The Right Side is the Right Side
III: Do something about it.
Step I is easy enough. Hell no, I’m not happy. I can’t remember the last time I
was.
Step II is no more difficult to answer. I’ve been using The Adventures of the Damned Human Race as a coping mechanism for years, with our arguments resolved in the stroke of a pen. As much as I love to screw up Chris’s life for dramatic effect, as much fun as it is to watch this character scurry through life with some looming shadow always threatening to crush his dreams under a big stamp that says, NO YOU MAY NOT, AND FOR NO GOOD REASON, as much as all that seems to entertain my more sadistic readers, in many ways I envy my own creation. In the twisted,
Chris Rawson The Last Boat out of America
nihilistic world I’ve created, there’s a bright center: Chris and Liz always resolve their problems. Monica and I never do.
Step III is usually the hardest part, because once I realize I need to do something, I have to go down yet another kaleidoscopic path. But here, there’s only two options, which the Clash once summarised so well: should I stay, or should I go?
I still don’t know the answer to that question as my key turns tumblers in the front door’s lock. Nor do I know the answer as the door swings open on my living room. I have no idea which path to take as I wander through the house, heading for the
bedroom, suspecting nothing.
In the center of the bed, perched on the black comforter Monica uses to keep her warm all year, is a white envelope with my name written on it. I know what’s in that envelope without reaching for it, without opening it, without reading Monica’s illegible cursive. I know what’s in that envelope because the closet door is open, and the closet is empty.
And that’s the very moment when I know whether I want to leave my wife or not.
Chris Rawson The Last Boat out of America
Chris dropped the manuscript.
My wife, Liz. My dog, Cara. And me. All characters in a webcomic? A comic that’s just coincidentally got the same name as an online column I used to write? The description of my house was perfect in every detail. The bike accident, too; everything he wrote is exactly how it happened.
His life doesn’t just read like something I’d have written. It’s like some alternate universe version of my own life, one that answers the question, “What if I hadn’t moved to New Zealand?”… and this wouldn’t be the first time I’d written a story like that.
Except I didn’t write this story. But he thinks I did.
Monica’s personality, the Decision Matrix: almost identical to my nine- month relationship with my ex, Megan, ten years ago. If anything, Monica’s portrayal was far more favourable than I might have granted her if I had written this story.
Strange how little time the narrator spent talking about his wife compared to how much he discussed his father. And his father was almost nothing like mine. I certainly couldn’t see Dad cheering on the Iraq invasion, considering he’s spent about a decade and a half living in Saudi Arabia and Kuwait. And he’s definitely not a drunken killing machine; he was a prison guard during his stint in the Marines, and as far as I know, he’s a teetotaller.
The biggest and most vital question remains unanswered: Who wrote this story? Clearly, whoever wrote the letter thought I wrote it, but though the tone, style, and certain elements of plot and characterisation match, I did not write it. On the other hand, he wrote The Adventures of the Damned Human Race,
starring me, depicting my life. But above that we’ve got The Last Boat out of America, starring him, depicting his life, and supposedly written by me.10 So
far, everything he’s described in the comic has actually happened. How much of The Last Boat out of America is true?
A Google search for “The Adventures of the Damned Human Race” turns up only Chris’s old columns, a series of fictional, occasionally semi-
autobiographical pieces. No webcomic. He considers searching for the main character, but after scanning through what he’s read so far, Chris realises that
Infinite Regress Chris Rawson
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whoever wrote The Last Boat out of America went out of his way to be
“postmodern” and made the main character a nameless, nobody “Narrator”.
The only identity he has is “I”. Maybe that’s why he’s so pissed off.
Chris looks up from the manuscript and reviews his surroundings. His vision of my house was almost perfect, but evidently not of his invention. He glances at a poster on the far wall. He doesn’t know who Chris the Ninja Pirate is, for instance.11 He didn’t recognise his surroundings. There’s strike one
against the theory that he’s the author of my existence.
Chris reads the narrator’s opening letter again. Their tone and content imply that he, Chris Rawson, wrote the narrative. The narrative’s parallels between his real life and the narrator’s fictional life imply the same thing.
He creates a chart, trying to reason things through.
Possibilities (in rough order of likelihood)
Psychological
1. I’ve gone nuts and I’m imagining all this. Seems too detailed for a hallucination though.
2. I did write it, and I just don’t remember. Have to be one hell of a long dissociative fugue for me to come up with this. Pretty sure Liz would’ve noticed. Might explain why I never wake up feeling rested?
Vendetta
Someone who knows me really well wrote this, and they’re just screwing with me. Problem: the only person who knows me well enough to write
something like this is my wife, who’s not exactly a writer.
Star Trek
1. I wrote this, but I haven’t written it yet. Time travel, Mr Spock. 2. An “alternate universe” version of me wrote this.
Infinite Regress Chris Rawson
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11 You probably donʼt, either. Chris the Ninja Pirate is a character from an obscure British webtoon called “Weebl and Bob”. I do indeed have a poster featuring this character hanging in my living room (something youʼd expect The Supposed Author of My Existence to know).
Yeah, right. Moving on.
Narrator
1. I really am just a fictional character in this guy’s world, and this whole scenario is just his way of injecting some drama into his story. Problem A: I’m pretty sure if someone did make a story out of my life, it’d be so
confusing no one would read it. Problem B: I think, therefore I am. I know I exist; he’s the one who’s questioning everything.12
I’ve spent most of this time thinking of the narrator like he’s a real person.
What if he’s not? I don’t have any evidence he exists other than this
manuscript. The letters could just be fictional adjuncts to the narrative. That still doesn’t tell me who did write this. I guess there’s only one way to find out.
He retrieves the manuscript and reads on.
Infinite Regress Chris Rawson
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12 Anyone in “Chris Rawsonʼs” position would likely be just as dismissive of the possibility of his existence as a fictional character in someone elseʼs narrative. We take the fact of our own consciousness for granted as something so obvious that itʼs barely worth questioning. This tendency is further compounded in Chrisʼs case: possessed of a disdain for authority that almost approaches a pathological animosity (brought about via traumatic experiences in the US Navy), Chris immediately discounts the possibility of any sort of “puppetmaster” dictating his fate/destiny (two concepts that, as a scientifically-minded atheist, he doesnʼt believe in anyway). Hence, Chris is far more accepting of psychological and/or fantastical explanations for his current dilemma than any explanation which makes him someone elseʼs pawn.