Doppelgänger



It was impossible to describe what had just occurred but she found herself in the middle of an art gallery with her portrait hanging to one side of her. It was a portrait that he had painted when she had been fifty years younger than she was now. Puzzled, bemused, even shocked. What had happened? What was she doing here? And then the reflection in the glass panel. She looked younger - about the same age as in the picture in fact. Then she was in her prime, not the aged, wizened creature that she had become. She remembered lying in her bed, attended by nurses, still a celebrity of sorts and then nothing until now.

He had passed away years before, stricken by a disease caused by the endless cigarettes that he smoked. She however had gone from strength to strength, partly fuelled by her reputation, a reputation that had started with their affair. His surrealistic art had mainly been focused on landscapes and despite great public acclaim, he had only ever created two portraits - his own and then later, the one that was on the wall beside her.

"Let me paint you" he said " and you will be immortalised. You will live for ever."

He hadn't meant it literally.

Or had he?

She felt energised - something that she had not experienced for many years, and bizarrely she felt no anxiety about her situation, just curiosity. It seemed to her that she had been reborn or perhaps just copied from a particular moment in her life. Surely though, rebirth was literal so she must be a copy - a doppelgänger. But surely, a doppelgänger was an omen of misfortune.

She mingled with the crowds who were gawking at the paintings by the great man. She smiled as she listened to the stories that they were telling. "She was his lover/muse/illegitimate daughter". You could fill in the gap yourself.

But if her life were to continue, she needed access to funds. After all, there was little point in starting from the bottom again and having to work her way up the ladder. She made her way outside and found herself on familiar territory. The gallery hadn’t been here in her lifetime but she recognised the other buildings around her even though the shops at street level had significantly changed. This had once been a genteel residential area but now it seemed to have been taken over by bright unfamiliar commerce. No matter. Her bank was just just two blocks away, or at least it had been once and if the key in her pocket still worked, the safety deposit box that resided there should have more than enough funds to allow her to start all over again.

Two years passed quickly during which she established control of her home, evicting the tenants that were leasing it as business premises. It turned out that she had invested wisely in the stock market and she was now a very rich woman. She had slowly reinstated herself into society claiming that she had been living abroad until recently. It turned out that as long as she had money, her background was of no relevance. How times had changed.

Modern technology was more of a challenge, initially just figuring out what it was supposed to do. She quickly learned that relating it to her previous experiences did not work. Some examples were straightforward enough, for example mobile phones were just an enhanced version of the system that she was used to and cars were simply a faster more comfortable version of her automobile. The internet was more of a challenge though and even without any understanding of how it worked, she was struggling to see how it could be used to her advantage. This was her in survival mode, how something could be used to her advantage. It had served her well in her previous existence and she was determined that it would serve her well now.

Eventually, she grasped its subtleties and nuances and it became part of her daily life. She used online banking, stock purchases and currency transfer systems to her considerable advantage and her wealth grew. She used social media to manipulate her image with the public and her opinions and views were followed and absorbed by millions of followers although she turned down numerous requests for interviews and live appearances. The mystery only increased her popularity. If she expressed a preference for a particular technology, you could be sure that the share price for that company would rise immediately afterwards.

She had pondered long and hard about what had happened but was unable to come up with any kind of rational answer and so had dismissed it completely from her mind. Her life was full and rich and fascinating. She didn’t want it to end. And so began the search. It had happened to her once, it could happen again. She started to support up and coming artists, commissioning her portrait time and time again. She had brief affairs with many of them but nothing matched up to her original lover, either in the quality of the work nor in their quality as a partener. One by one, they were tried and rejected.

It was during a trip to Venice that she heard talk of a painter that was developing a new, exciting technique that intrigued her. He was elusive and she was unable to arrange a meeting with him but eventually, she heard of an exhibition that had been arranged which was to include several of his pieces including some landscapes and a self portrait. She arrived early and took a glass of Prosecco from a table by the entrance. There was no catalogue so she strolled from room to room admiring but discounting piece after piece. She was recognised and stopped and held in conversation on numerous occasions.

She had expected to be disappointed again and so was not discouraged when she approached the final room. She stopped in front of the main canvas that screamed for her attention. From behind her, she heard a familiar voice.

"Let me paint you" he said "and you will be immortalised. You will live for ever."