In The Beginning

"Like gas and oil on a mad man's face..."

"Who are you?" It's one of the most basic questions humans ask. You might even say it's the most basic, more than "who am I?" in the greater scheme of things, as an amnesiac rarely asks about themselves before asking about others. The search for an identity in relation to the identities of those around them. "Who are you?" as a question is fundamentally flawed. It's not the "who" that is important. It's the "what."

Now, "what are you?" is an interesting inquiry. If you were to turn to the individual beside you right now, it's not an inquiry that you would normally make. They're just a fellow human, after all. Right? They eat and drink and breathe, piss and shit, just like everyone else. Watch closely. That breathing isn't like everyone's. It lacks a certain natural rhythm to it, almost as if that person is thinking about inhaling and exhaling, lest they forget to. Keep watching. See the absence of nuanced motions, a life full of ticks and twitches that humans naturally accrue as the years pass by? Ignore the conversation they make. It's the interaction that is important. When they move, it's precise, no effort wasted, like a mechanical wind up toy. They listen intently and respond as expected, but the inflection is cold and empty, devoid of empathy. And yet, their audience thrives on the conversation. Enraptured by the words. Immediately put at ease by the tone. It's almost hypnotic.


No, ignore the words. They aren't important. What's being said isn't what is being spoken. Instead, keep looking around. See the unkempt gent in the corner, disheveled but still somehow presentable? It's alright, he won't look in your direction. Note his facial features, an almost lupine or vulpine quality to his bone structure, that feral glint in his eyes that keeps them from meeting yours. No absence of nuanced motions there. In fact, he seems to be a barely contained frenetic ball as he twitches in his seat. His fingers tap staccato against his leg, though in anticipation or irritation is impossible to say.


Don't stop now. You're starting to understand. What about the couple by the window? He looks completely in love, entirely smitten. She doesn't stand out like someone who would inspire such slavish devotion, but who's to say what is enchanting for someone else? Or could be enchanting for you, if you were to give her but a moment of your time. Hunger comes in many, many forms, and food isn't always enough to satisfy.


There's a logic to it now, isn't there? Of why the "what" can be even more important than the "who" of a thing? That fellow human may not be exactly that. But then, perhaps the term "fellow human" isn't entirely accurate either, is it? Oh? You have no idea why you caught my attention in the first place, do you?


"What are you?" Ah, now you're learning to ask the correct questions...