"Well," explained Jon, "that depends on the person. A lot of people are just freaked out and don't even want to be around me, let along date me. Some people just want to date one form, which means my other self has to hang around and do nothing. It usually works out best if I date another couple, or someone who's into ménage à trois."
"Couldn't you go on two completely separate dates?" Karyn suggested.
"I wish I knew the answer to that," Jon temporized, then he explained the answer. "Although I've practiced over and over, I can only remain split for a limited amount of time. After that, I get woozy or even pass out, and then I unwillingly reunite. And the further apart my two forms get, the less time they can stay apart. So, like, if I stay within ten or twenty feet of myself, I can remain split for three or four hours. But if I split and then one of me goes two or three miles away, I snap back almost immediately and it's not pleasant."
"Not pleasant?" Why? What does it feel like? I can't imagine," Karyn wondered.
"Well, for starters, when I snap back involuntarily, I never know where I'm going to be. I might be where one of my selves was standing, or where the other one was, or somewhere in between. Fortunately, I never seem to materialize in the middle of a wall or a busy street, but anything else goes.
"And secondly, when I merge unwillingly, I don't have any control over my combined form. I could end up divided top-and-bottom, left-and-right, or front-and-back, none of which are too bad. But I just hate being right-and-right, front-and-front, back-and-back, or just a crazy combination of body parts. It takes me a long time to get straightened out from those. That's why, when I split, I never leave."
"Oh, shoot! I promised to talk with my History teacher this afternoon, but the bus leaves in seven minutes and I gotta use the washroom. I wish I could split in half like you do," Karyn fumed.
"I wish you could, too," Jon stated while holding the stone.
