The Deaths of Dr. Zhen

by Brian Osburn

he deeply loved were snuffed out in an instant. As sure as he was of his own existence, Zhen was also sure that if there were ever three people who deserved an eternity in heaven, it was Betty, William and Toni. But over time, Zhen had convinced himself that had God truly existed, He never would have allowed such a horrific event to have occurred. So Zhen denied God's existence. He entertained no visions of his family waiting for him in a 'heaven-like' place.

  Zhen paused for a long time before responding to Friedberg's query. “I can't explain that to you. Suffice it to say, I'm strongly motivated from within. But before you make your final decision, let me offer you an enticement to help me with this project.”

  The trauma doctor's response was instantaneous. “I'm ready to say 'no' to you now, Professor, regardless of anything you could offer me.”

  Zhen smiled a little and bobbed his head. “I can offer you the use of the medical facility at the university and two million dollars to conduct research for one year to discover the secrets of bringing someone back from the dead after an hour.”

  Friedberg was shocked! “What funding agency has endorsed that?!”

  “I'm funding this project myself, Dr. Friedberg. But so that you'll know where the money came from, I will tell you that I made a fifteen thousand dollar investment over twenty years ago.” Zhen shrugged and smiled. “Who knew Microsoft would become so successful?”

  “How did you get the university to allow you to use the medical center?”

  “The very same way I'm getting you to help me, Doctor; with a little donation.”

  “So you're offering me the use of the university's medical center and two million dollars for one year of research?”

  “That's the deal.”

  “And if I am unsuccessful in discovering the methods you seek?”

  “Then we'll reevaluate after a year. But I'm hopeful that you'll figure everything out well within that time frame. Will you accept?”

  “I'll have to take a sabbatical from my work,” Friedberg said, before pausing a moment. “I would want a quarter of the money to support my family for a year,” he said, then paused again. “And I would need a small staff and complete autonomy within the medical facility to conduct experiments without any attention being drawn to me or my work. If it got out that I was trying to do something as unethical as this, I would be ruined.”

  Zhen tilted his head and smiled. “You'll have to report to an Institutional Review Board, who by the way, doesn't agree that these experiments are unethical. But other than that I can guarantee secrecy for you and your work and I agree to everything else. Will you think about it?”

  Friedberg bit his lips hard and slowly nodded his head. “Alright, Professor. I will think about it.”

  A weird thrill surged through Dr. Zhen as he rose from his seat and stuck out his hand to his former student, which was politely accepted and given a firm, brief shake in return. Zhen quickly dawned his hat and coat and paused to say, “Please call me at your earliest convenience with your answer,” before leaving into the wind and rain outside.

  Friedberg left the establishment a short time later to return to his home. A powerful bolt of lightning struck somewhere well off in the distance. Booming thunder followed. The eeriness of the night and the conversation with Dr. Zhen had spooked Friedberg to the bone.

  In a short time, he decided to accept the offer, but in his heart, he had the most serious of concerns. Nonetheless, he called Zhen the next week and agreed to his proposal.

  Within six months, and after many attempts, Dr. Friedberg managed to resuscitate a trained rat after it had been dead for an hour. It took another month of tests on the rat to determine that had suffered no apparent organ damage of any kind. It was a milestone in biological science, yet Friedberg did not celebrate the success. He knew that Zhen's reaction to the experiment would be, and it came to pass.

  Zhen ordered Friedberg to begin conducting experiments on chimps right away. Friedberg argued that it was too soon, but Zhen, of course, won the argument.

  Friedberg's work was secret to practically everyone, but his experiments were still subject to the scrutiny by the Institutional Review Board. Zhen warned Friedberg not to skew his results or to try and unduly influence the board when he presented his findings to them. Friedberg did as he was told and presented his preliminary findings without bias. Nonetheless, he was still shocked when he was given authoritative direction from the board to proceed with experiments on primates.

  It took two months and the lives of several chimpanzees before Friedberg was able to bring one of them back from the dead. Friedberg tested the chimp for a week and found no damage to any organ. So he tried again on another chimp. This time, Zhen was in attendance for the experiment.

  Even though he wore a surgical mask, one could still see the amazement in Zhen's expression when Friedberg successfully resuscitated the chimp after an hour of its being dead. Subsequent tests on this chimp proved that it too survived the ordeal no worse for wear.

  Zhen was ecstatic, but Friedberg was not. A rat and a chimp are complex life-forms, to be sure, but they are not human. To Zhen, it was all a wash. Zhen believed that all that had to be done was to ramp up the chemical regimen using a simple body-mass ratio calculation (which Friedberg had used to determine between the rat and the chimp), and then duplicate the procedures for inducing death and then life. In Zhen's mind, it was so easy and straightforward that he wanted to proceed immediately. Friedberg advised him one last time against this unwise decision, but Zhen again stayed true to his course. This decision, of course, was made without the consent or knowledge of the review board.

  Within a week, two nurses placed Zhen within a special container located in one of the medical center's operating rooms. They were gowned from head to toe. He could only see their eyes. This was a precaution taken by Dr. Friedberg; the three of them were gowned in such a way so as to not be identified should something bad happen during the experiment. No video cameras were allowed, and Friedberg had personally ensured that none had been secretly hidden within the room. Friedberg made sure that this was Zhen's moment, and Zhen's moment alone.

  The container Zhen had been placed inside was similar in size and shape to an Egyptian sarcophagus. He was kept warm using heated towels placed from chest to toe. These towels were replaced with new ones frequently. Dr. Friedberg administered a tranquilizer to Zhen. He asked, “How are you feeling today, Professor?” while leaning over the coffin-like container.

  “I'm well,” he replied. Zhen could see the frown in Friedberg's eyes above the mask.

  “This is your last chance to change your mind.”

  “I'm not doing that,” Zhen flatly replied.

  “Okay, Professor. Let me tell you again what to expect. I've given you a tranquilizer that will prepare you for the anesthesia. Once you're fully under, we're going to lower your body temperature using this vessel you're inside. Next, we will slowly introduce the chemicals into your bloodstream using the IVs we've placed in your veins. The chemicals will act as an insulator and anti-oxidant in your blood. As we do this, we will slowly begin to decrease the amount of oxygen you breathe. We will also introduce helium into this mixture. Finally, once your body is perfectly prepped, we will stop your heart and you will die.”

  Friedberg pause for effect, but Zhen remained calm and focused.

  “An hour later, we'll begin to warm you and reintroduce oxygen into your system, but only in small amounts. We'll do this while slowly cleaning your blood of the chemical agents. At the critical point, we will restart your heart and begin ventilating your lungs again. God-willing, you will recover consciousness. Do you have any questions?”

  “No, but I do want to thank you for doing this for me, Ben.” Zhen could sense the frown fade from behind the mask.

  “Alright then, we'll proceed,” Friedberg said with authority and commitment.

  That was the last memory of Dr. Zhen...

  ...until he awoke. Zhen fought to regain consciousness in th
e same manner as someone who had just had surgery would; while in a fog. Friedberg was there standing above him, still fully gowned. Zhen coughed a few times and then settled down with steady respiration and eyes seeking focus.

  Friedberg smiled. “I think you're going to be alright, but you need to rest for a long time. I'm looking forward to hearing what you have to say about your time away from us,” he said to Zhen knowing that the professor was still officially unconscious from the experience and could not yet see or hear him. Friedberg turned and walked away.

  Zhen fought his way back, slowly. He could barely sense the ventilation tube that was stuck down his throat. A few more minutes passed and then Zhen blinked on.

  And then with equal suddenness, he began to thrash about on the gurney. His IV tower crashed to the ground and as it fell, it pulled the needles out of his arm. He pulled hard on the tube down his throat, and out it came, but it hurt for it to do so. When it popped out, Zhen screamed. “Nooooooo!”

  Friedberg had not yet left the room. He quickly rushed to Zhen's side and tried to hold him down, but it took him and the two nurses together to stop his apparent convulsions. “Professor!” cried Friedberg. “Professor! What's wrong?”

  “Oh no,” Zhen said as he blankly stared at the ceiling with eyes glazed over with tears. “I was right!”

  “What