Shadows: an exercise in duality

dark doppelgangers form out of this short fiction prompt

I’ve been writing about shadow AI this week for work, so it’s no wonder this prompt about shadows called to me.

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🧪 The Experiment

✍️ What I Wrote

I only have 30 minutes, so let’s go on this journey together.

Freewriting for 5 minutes to surface ideas:

First, I say “surface” — and use em dashes. But I do not use AI to write my Substack content or any of my creative writing. I am a human, and this is my connection point. And maybe that’s the light and the shadow. Is the shadow the scourge of artificial intelligence, something that leaches onto a person, or leaches from them? It appears human but is not human? Or maybe it’s more like Plato’s allegory of the cave. Or are we the shadows slowly giving up our autonomy to the “elite” world of robots? I didn’t think I was a sci-fi writer, but damn, I’m surprising myself with these lines.

Ok, well this was all great, but I lost the thread of “represents their true nature.” Who is this character? What is their true nature? Who can see the shadow companion? Do we have innate “true natures”? Can a shadow change?

Is this a person who seems good on the surface but is actually evil? Everything they do is good. All of their behaviors are good. And they want desperately to be good. They will never act on evil. But they can’t control their thoughts. Those are evil, and there’s nothing they can do to change that. I think I want to explore this, which is good because time is up.

25 minutes to go, let’s see how far I can take this…

I wish it was as easy as Peter Pan made it out to be. Just rub a little soap on, and you can reattach your shadow. But mine can’t be wrestled back to the source.

I realized my shadow was evil when I was just 3 years old. It loomed over me, a night terror I could not wake from. When anyone new entered the home, it would darken the walls with images of murder— choking, stomping, stabbing— all manner of horrifying things.

My parents pretended not to notice, but by the time I turned 5, it wasn’t an option anymore. When they thought I was out of earshot, the pediatrician said they should have me euthanized. There was no doubt who I was or would become.

But their shadows were sweet things, who hugged and caressed and swooned. They could not bare the thought of harming a child.

And so I grew, knowing I didn’t want to be like my shadow, making sure I survived. I practiced what I saw in the shadows of my parents. I forced kindness, charity, patience.

Or at least I tried. Most were unwilling to socialize with me once they saw my true nature.

And truly, it was my nature. For every cat I rescued from a tree, there was a fantasy of tossing it and breaking its neck. For every dollar I left for the poor and needy, I hummed with satisfaction at the notion of them being so desolate, they’d grovel at my feet. I wanted to hurt people. I wanted to badly.

But I could not let my nature win if I wanted to survive. Goodness or the grave became my mantra.

So imagine my surprise when I awoke one morning to find the sun streaking through, the kind of harsh light that creates the darkest shadows, and yet, my shadow refused to appear.

At first, I wondered if I had died and crossed into some kind of purgatory or hell. After all, I was not pure of thought.

But no, it was still my same old world. And now I had a choice to make.

Morph into the mask or give into my true nature? Without my shadow to give me up, I could be who I wanted to be.

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Honestly, I’m liking this piece. It needs development, of course, but the kernel of something is there.

Will he embrace goodness or devolve into his true nature? What do you think will happen next?