The sky was the colour of television, tuned to a dead channel, and Tomash was stumbling around the cold streets violently snogging himself. He was really going at it. He pawed at his own arms, grabbed at his own jacket and belt, flicked his own tongue out and twisted it about, left to right, in an attempt to wrap it around itself.

'Oh, Tomash, you know how I love these cold cyber-afternoons,' exclaimed Thoth, pulling his lips from themselves.

'Oh, how could I not know, Thoth, my lover? You're me, after all.'

'How could you not,' said Thoth wistfully, the subtext of his phrase understood almost immediately by Tomash because, again, they were the same person, literally the exact same person, same traits and tendencies and you should see them talking about computer nerd stuff together, it's uncanny.

'Ah, but my darling,' exclaimed Tomash or alternately Thoth, suddenly standing straight. 'Why, it's just about PPC-time!'

'Yes! Of course!' realised either Thoth or Tomash. 'Quick! We must hurry back and log into our two separate accounts to continue pretending and claiming that we are two, distinct, different people, despite it being incredibly clear that this is one person, sheeple! This is a single individual! Check the facts! Think a little!'

And so, Thoth and Tomash skipped merrily back to their cyber-computer - though not without, here and there, giving themselves light pecks on their own cheeks, or reaching over and gently massaging their own shoulders -
and everybody was none the wiser as to their dark secret.