Saving Our Universe

I go to bed like every night, in the Santo Domingo neighborhood where I live. I settle in for a restful sleep to replenish the energy lost during the day. I surrender to the lethargy of my senses, and the hours pass…

A mischievous ray of light sneaks through my window and falls obliquely on my eyelid. I toss and turn peacefully between the sheets, still without opening my eyes, and suddenly, everything feels strange. This isn't the texture of my sheets or the scent of my room. Even the bed feels different.

When I open my eyes, I can't believe what appears before my eyes. I'm not in the room I'm used to, my room, with its zinc roof and clothes hooks on the walls. Instead, my senses register a charming, feminine bedroom, with pink and sky blue details, sports team pennants, and posters of popular singers. Could someone explain this to me? The window to the right of the bed is made of glass; through it, I see one of those suburban landscapes so common in North America. This is getting stranger and stranger. Apparently, I've woken up in North America; the U.S.A., to be more specific, judging by the flag hanging on the opposite wall. The posters I see are of Michael J. Fox in his younger years, Rick Astley when he was the sensation of the moment, and Madonna, in her heyday. In addition, everything around me is very retro, 80s, to be exact.

I also happen to have a Cabbage Doll and a Sony CD player on my nightstand.

It's a good thing I'm, modestly and aside, an individual with such a broad pop culture background and sufficient knowledge of film and geography; otherwise, the impression would have been even more overwhelming.

I jump up and look at my reflection in a full-length mirror across from the bed. That's when everything finally loses its meaning: The mirror reflects the image of a teenager with thick brown hair, a few curves... I scream in horror, and my voice actually sounds like a girl's.

There's a knock at my door. "Gretchen, honey, are you okay?" asks a woman's voice on the other end. 

I conclude it must be this young woman's mother.

"Yes, Mom, don't worry, it's just a pimple," I hear myself say (or should I say myself?), quite surprised. "I'll be right down for breakfast."

"Take your time," she reassures me. "Remember the school flooded..."

Is my name Gretchen? The school flooded? Wait a minute... that scene is familiar...

"Oh no! It can't be! Definitely not."

 For now, I have an idea to confirm my suspicions.

I look for this girl's backpack—well, mine, since for now I'm her. I find it on a small dresser that serves as my desk. It has one of those elf keychains with colorful hair hanging from it that I remember from my childhood. I take out a random notebook and look at the back cover: Gretchen Ross.

Damn! I'm still in my nightgown; I should go out and clean up.

I don't think I'll raise any suspicions about my true identity. I've seen this movie three or four times. It's not one of my favorites, but I know each of its characters pretty well. "My" mother and "my" father are divorced; we came from another state, and "my" mother has placed a restraining order on "my" stepfather for abuse. Although, on second thought, I couldn't escape this identity even by proclaiming that I'm actually a middle-aged guy from the Dominican Republic, since all I would achieve would be to be locked up in a mental hospital.

I close my eyes to take off my nightgown and wrap myself in the towel, still closed. I resist the temptation to look at myself as best I can, since this is her body, not mine, and besides, it wouldn't be the first time I've seen or touched a naked woman. Of course, I have to admit that being in a girl's body feels pleasant; it's a sensation very hard to describe.

I head to the bathroom and greet "my" mother from the hallway. She responds vaguely with a wave, busy as she is, frying bacon. We live in a very small rented house; I never imagined how complicated this character's life really was.

Once in the bathroom, I clean up as best I can, return to my bedroom, put on something light, and go out to have breakfast. My advantage is that I already know exactly what's happening around me and what's going to happen next; what I would give to have that knowledge in my own universe.

I know I have to meet with Donnie even though there's no school; it's urgent.

I have toast, jam, eggs with bacon, and hot chocolate for breakfast. I think anyone would be prepared to withstand even a zombie apocalypse with a breakfast like this. I have a small conversation with my mom about yesterday's events. We're short on money; my mom waitresses at a nearby bar, something they don't show in this movie.

"So what are you planning on doing today?" my mom asks casually.

"I have to go to Donnie's house; we have a lot of homework to do," I announce.

"With that guy?" she asks. "It's kind of weird, don't you think?"

Even if I explained it to her a thousand times, my mother wouldn't understand my urgency at this moment, much less my mission. As a manipulated dead woman, I must guide Donnie to fulfill his destiny, unable to resist the impulses that compel me to act. And the strangest thing is that I have a dual awareness of my mission in this order of things: the one granted to me by the higher power that guides our actions (God or whatever you want to call it) and the one I already have as an inhabitant of another universe and a connoisseur of this tape.

I grab my backpack and say goodbye, before my mother can even open her mouth to protest again.

********

Donnie's house is only a couple of blocks from ours, so I get there in about 20 minutes. On the way, I had to dodge those idiots Seth and Ricky, who started bothering me.

Whenever I watched this movie, I had a hard time tolerating Seth's character. Ricky just seemed like a bootlicking idiot to me, but I have a real crush on this guy... this was the perfect opportunity to spit on him and everything he stood for. I suffer from muscle weakness and have never been a good self-defense guy, so even if I wanted to, I could never land a single blow on that guy, but I would give him an even more devastating beating: It would break his morale.

“Seth: Have you ever stopped to think about why no one wants to associate with you outside of your gang of cylinder monkeys?”

As simple-minded as this guy is, something must have clicked in his monkey brain, because both he and Ricky went blank for a few seconds, as if reflecting, if those two can do that, and then continued insulting me even more furiously, but without moving from where they were. 

I arrive at Donnie's house. His mother greets me kindly and invites me in. 

"Donnie's waiting for you in his room," she says. 

I'm a little surprised that she doesn't suspect anything about what we might end up doing, but the woman is a bit clueless. 

"How are you, Donnie?" I greet as I enter. 

“We have a lot to work on today.”

"Well, let's get started soon," he urges. 

He orders me to close the door without locking it, 

"To reassure my mother," she comments. 

The woman isn't so naive after all.

I'm clear that we connected after school, due to the flood, which has been going on for three days now without a solution. Both as a manipulated dead person and as an intruder in this universe, I fully understand that this incident was his doing, but he doesn't know I know. I also have an additional advantage: as a manipulated dead person, I am aware of the reality of this universe and my mission, and can even devise plans of my own to ensure its fulfillment.

At this point, I have no words to describe the surreal nature of this situation. I am a single, forty-something, from "reality" and the 21st century, arriving not so much in a suburb of 1988 America, but in the cinematic universe of this film, under the identity of a girl who has begun a relationship with the man who is supposed to lead to her sacrifice for humanity.

I try to normalize the situation. We're just two friends studying for their classes, I repeat to myself.

We've been reviewing content for about 10 or 15 minutes when something suddenly occurs to me.

"Donnie, the day of the flood, you told me you considered yourself a superhero." This thought crossed my mind. "I don't know if you knew that superheroes are always willing to sacrifice themselves for humanity if necessary."

"Come on! You're almost sounding like Dr. Thurman," she tells me with her typical fake smile.

Of course, he doesn't know that I also know her therapist.

"Does the perspective of the police officer who refuses to risk his life for the citizens seem selfish to you, but not that of the citizen who takes it for granted as if it were the most normal thing in the world?" he adds. "Just because the state pays the police officer for your protection doesn't mean they're obligated to lose their life for yours."

I can't deny it, he has a good point. How can you convince someone to sacrifice themselves for everyone, including you? That's a very selfish desire, a collective selfishness against that guy. You can approve of it lightly as long as you're someone else, but what if you put yourself in his shoes? Even so, I'm forced to tip the scales against him, because even the survival of this girl and mine depends on his sacrifice.

I'm very worried about us becoming friends; this is a rather difficult situation for me. Therefore, I try to keep his interest captive in the books and in the conversation. I'll convince him little by little each day; after all, there are still about 25 days until the collapse.

"And have you seen..." I begin to ask impulsively, but I manage to stop myself in time. "I ran into Seth and Ricky on the way, but I managed to put them in their place."

I take a deep breath, thinking about the mess I was saved from. Donnie can't even suspect that I know about Frank, or that I'm aware that he flooded the school. He hasn't told me anything about it yet.

"Do you know what I want to do now?" he asks, leaning closer.

Oh no! Now how do I get out of this?

"Donnie, stop!" I order, pushing him away slightly with my hand, his face a foot from mine. "Don't you think we're moving too fast for the short time we've known each other?"

He adopts an expression I can't decipher.

"Yeah... um... sorry," he stammers. "I think that's enough studying for today."

He walks me to the door, and I step back, relieved. Damn! I was one step away from kissing a high school boy under the identity of his girlfriend.

********

The leak was fixed a couple of days ago.

"Donnie!" I call.

We're at recess, and the other kids' noise makes it hard for him to hear me. I run over to him.

He was just leaving the office. The day before, he had told Teacher Kitty Farmer, a fan of lecturer Jim Cunningham's methods, to shove her lifeline up her butt.

Like everyone else in this universe, Teacher Farmer is a manipulator, and as such, her mission is to help convince Donnie, completely ignoring the purpose of what she's doing.

I must confess that I, too, find this exercise an oversimplification of human emotions; but in this way, we manage to get this boy to overcome his fear of death and instead see the sacrifice he must make as an act of love.

"Do you know what that bitch did?" he tells me indignantly when I finally catch up with him at the end of the hall. "She complained to the principal, and they've summoned me with my parents tomorrow."

"Maybe he exaggerated a bit," I admit, "but you still have to be honest with yourself and admit that maybe it was disrespectful on your part."

He stares at me, seeming very thoughtful, typical of him.

"Suppose I asked the math teacher, 'How do you find the cube root of any number, moron?' And he doesn't know," he asks. "Yes, it's true, I was disrespectful, but he still couldn't answer something that's supposed to be within his jurisdiction. That's the same in this case. I may be disrespectful, but that doesn't stop Farmer and Cunningham from being two lobotomized microcephalics."

We continue walking to a bench in the courtyard. Several kids stare at us. But luckily, the most idiotic and aggressive bullies, led by Seth, aren't around.

"Remember I told you about Grandma Death?" he asks casually.

"That strange old woman next door to you?" I ask, feigning innocence. "Did she tell you anything?"

"Yes, it turns out she's a celebrity. She taught at this very school and is the author of a book on time travel that Professor Monittoff lent me," he tells me. "The day before yesterday, when Dad almost ran her over, she whispered in my ear that every creature in the world dies alone."

"Well, she told you a great truth," I agree. "That's why you shouldn't fear death, nor any sacrifice you have to make for others."

He looks at me, somewhat puzzled.

"You've been acting strange these days, urging me to be more altruistic and sacrifice," he comments. "Are you afraid of something? Is there something I should know?"

"I don't think so," I deny with all the confidence I can muster. "After all, we're here today, and tomorrow, who knows? You and anyone else could become a martyr at any moment."

As soon as I manage to get out of this predicament, our conversation eventually veers onto other topics. He tells me about Mrs. Pomeroy, our literature teacher, and how much he identifies with her. It's also then that he dares to tell me about Frank for the first time. Of course, he would never confide in me that he was the one who flooded the school under the influence of the guy in the costume. I, on the other hand, would never confess to him that I knew everything.

A few days later, he earns another suspension, this time for boycotting Jim Cunningham's lecture in the auditorium. Mrs. Farmer had worked hard to convince the guy to give one of his talks at our school.

I'm not particularly proud of what I did next, but I'd do anything to ensure he fulfilled his purpose, even if I wasn't forced to. I hate myself for this, but the survival of the entire universe depends on making a martyr of this boy. It was for that very reason that, greeting Cunningham effusively, I took the opportunity to steal his wallet and casually toss it right in the middle of Donnie's route.

That's how the fire at Cunningham's house happened, and it was also how we all learned about the compromising material he kept there. There were several more bizarre incidents during his arrest, but without a doubt the most bizarre was the scene where Kitty Farmer cried as he passed by.

This act led Donnie to a strange transformation, as if unmasking a predator was exactly what he needed to convince himself. He must always serve others, he repeated from then on.

********

Donnie organized that party to celebrate his sister Elizabeth's admission to Harvard, taking advantage of their parents' absence.

Eventually, Kitty Farmer made a fuss and went to Donnie's mother to ask her to replace her, taking the girls to the gymnastics championship in Los Angeles. She was naive enough to believe that her presence at Cunningham's trial would add points to his case.

Just as I expected from the script for this film, "my" mother disappeared, arriving at Donnie's house, more motivated by speeding up the outcome of all this than by the invitation to his party. This girl's mother is actually the least of my priorities right now.

"Couldn't she have gone to a friend's?" Donnie suggests, still standing in the doorway.

Inside, Technotronic's "Pump Up the Jam" is playing, a huge hit these days, barely two months old. I catch a glimpse of Elizabeth dancing to the music with a boy.

"I don't think so. I've been everywhere I could have gone and called everyone she knows," I explain.

He cordially invites me in. Maybe we'll come up with something else if we think about it.

We head toward her room; several boys and their girlfriends are staring at us. A tall boy in a biker jacket makes a somewhat snide comment to Donnie; another, wearing an Adidas shirt, whistles as we pass by.

We enter her room, which I had barely noticed when I accompanied her to study: pennants, posters of current artists, a dart board. Are all the pieces created by '80s teenagers the same?

Once again, I try to avoid any intimacy, as I know very well the scene that follows. Donnie tells me that he's finally resolved his existential conflict and that now, more than ever, he understands that his destiny is tied to that of others and therefore he must perish for them.

He shows me a page he's marked from Roberta Sparrow's book, where she talks about the primary universe and alternate universes.

"This universe we're in is the alternate or tangent universe, and it's only six hours away from collapsing," he tells me, ignoring my knowledge of all this. "Remember the airplane turbine I told you about?"

"The one Frank saved you from?"

"Exactly," he confirms. "I have to return that turbine to the primary universe so it can continue its course and crash into my room. Otherwise, both universes will collapse, and everything will end."

Despite the confidence he tries to convey in his voice, it sounds somewhat broken. Obeying a blind impulse, I hug him with all the strength and sincerity I can muster at that moment, having never felt so powerless in my life. That boy was going to sacrifice himself for humanity, even for guys like Seth, who bullied him and weren't worth his effort; and the worst part is that, unlike Christ, he would never return to his heavenly throne in three days, nor will he have half the world as a follower. No one, not even myself, will remember the meaning of his sacrifice, and in the primary universe, he will only be a fool who died crushed by an airplane turbine.

I continue to hug him and let him cry on my shoulder as much as he can; after all, that was the only thing I could do for him.

He pulls away slightly, his eyes still red and watery, and looks at his watch.

"It's getting late. I must go to Grandma Death."

He wipes away his tears as best he can. "I'll go with you," I suggest.

"I don't think so, it's dangerous," he explains.

I've never been so determined in my life.

"I'm not asking you, I'm announcing it."

He shrugs.

“Whatever! You'll survive anyway…”

Yes, I'll survive, and anyway, not even being run over will deter me from joining him. It's the least I can do.

"Donnie, give me something to remember you by..." I ask him as we both leave the house.

"I can't. Passing matter between both universes is just what opens the rifts..." he explains.

We head toward the hill at the foot of which Roberta Sparrow lives. When we arrive, we find Seth and Ricky about to vandalize the property.

"Hey, you two morons. What are you trying to do?" Donnie chides them.

"But it's the moron!" Seth announces with his maniacal expression that I find so hard to bear.

Suddenly, I feel a very strong impact from the side, and everything goes dark around me.

********

I wake up sweating. I think I've had a nightmare; it was so vivid. 

My room, which I missed so much, is back to its old self. I feel the same sheets again. I touch my bed and the dresser next to it. I've never felt so relieved in my life.

I check my alarm clock; it's 3:45 a.m. The details of my dream come flooding back.

What if it wasn't a dream? That question suddenly strikes me. What if we truly owe Donald Darko the survival of our universe? If there were even the remotest chance that this were the case, the least Donnie deserves is for his story and his sacrifice to be known. That's why I must write down everything I remember. I sit in front of my laptop and begin to write:

I go to bed like every night, in the Santo Domingo neighborhood where I live. I prepare for a restful sleep to replenish the energy lost during the day. I abandon myself to the lethargy of my senses, and the hours pass...