Shock Treatment

by Geoffrey Lyon

  She exited the vehicle without bothering to lock the doors, and headed to the front entrance of the building. Inside, it was very quiet. The light pink carpet was soft, and the walls were painted a light beige color. It seemed deserted at first, and then Miriam noticed a woman sitting behind a large computer monitor at the front desk.

  “Can I help you?” the woman asked, keeping her voice low in a sort of half-whisper.

  Miriam tried to speak, but she felt a lump in her throat. She was here to see Daniel. Or rather, to see his body. So she was here to see what was left of him. What was left after the life had left his body. Her eyes filled with tears and her face contorted in pain. She stood there in silence, unable to say a word.

  The woman nodded in empathy. She must see this sort of thing all the time, thought Miriam as the tears rolled down.

  “Daniel,” Miriam finally blurted out, exhaling hard so that she could speak,

  “Daniel Chen. They brought his body here?”

  “Yes, please take a seat. Someone will be out momentarily to escort you in.”

  Miriam walked to the row of empty chairs and collapsed into the nearest one. She felt exhausted. She was feeling pain and a low rumbling in her abdomen. How many hours had it been since she had eaten? She didn’t know. She must have missed a meal or two since morning. She had a light headache, but she didn’t realize it. Dehydrated. She stared at the depressing light pink carpet. Her emotions and the pink color seemed to mesh and meld, until one was the other. She began to feel an inexplicable loathing for the pink color. Even now, she sensed that this loathing would last. Pink was never her favorite anyway.

  “Miriam!”

  She looked up when she heard her name. It was Lisa, Daniel’s younger sister, who had called out to her. She had just entered the building, trailed by Daniel’s mother and father. Lisa ran up to Miriam and hugged her tightly. She was a small waif of a girl, slim and petite at five feet. She was twenty three years old, exceptionally bright, and in the final year of college for her doctorate in Physical Therapy.

  Mr. and Mrs. Chen walked up to Miriam and Lisa. Unable to offer any words, they just stood there, struggling to understand and make sense of their common loss. Miriam opened her mouth to say something, but was unable to say anything to offer condolences. They all stood there in silence, unable to articulate the shared pain they were all feeling.

  Moments later, a tall, thin man appeared and gave a slight bow. His skin was deathly pale, and he had on a pair of thin-rimmed glasses. He looked as if he might have belonged inside one of the many caskets inside the mortuary.

  “Right this way please,” he said with the slightest hint of a British accent.

  They followed his lead and walked into an old elevator which took them to the basement. There, in the dim blue light and cool temperature, surrounded by concrete walls and floors, they walked down a short hallway and into the storage room. It was a large room with rows of what looked like metal drawers lining one wall. Each had an identifying number on it. There were a number of examination tables throughout the room. All were bare.

  The tall man peered over his glasses dispassionately at the numbers on the drawers, mumbling silently to himself, until he found the one he was looking for. 172-M. He pulled on the handle vigorously and the metal drawer slid out smoothly.

  Mr. and Mrs. Chen walked forward stoically, their faces devoid of expression. They held each others’ hands, prepared to face the dreadful moment that was coming next. Standing beside Miriam, Lisa gasped. She stood frozen, unable to move. She bit her lip and looked away.

  Miriam trailed Mr. and Mrs. Chen, her arms folded, unable to process what was happening. It didn’t feel like she was really here. She felt like she was watching a movie, that this was happening to someone else. She felt disconnected and out of place and time. She took a deep breath, not knowing if she was ready for this.

  The tall man stood for a few moments next to the corpse, which was covered with a sheet. He regarded them all, as if deciding if they were ready. Finally, he gave a slight nod, leaned down, and slowly pulled the sheet down, revealing the face and shoulders of the body lying before them. Then he bowed his head slightly, and gently retreated behind them, out of sight.

  Mrs. Chen wept silently, while her husband stared without blinking at the sight of his deceased son. Daniel Chen. Once so full of life and vitality, in the prime of his life. Now lying cold and lifeless before them.

  Miriam stood quietly behind them. After a few moments, they turned and stepped away, giving her space to see Daniel. Lisa was sobbing softly. They spoke to her in low voices, comforting her. Miriam took a step closer to Daniel’s corpse. As she stared, she felt something strange happening. Her fear seemed to leave her. All the stress and tension slowly seemed to dissipate, and then completely vanish. Before her lay the man she had loved with everything she was. And now he was gone. All that was left was this shell of his body. She didn’t feel disconnected anymore. She felt like she was back in her body. She was here, fully present. Now, she could accept this situation. She could accept what had happened, even when it was so painful.

  She reached out and touched his cheek. It was ice-cold. She caressed him lovingly, like she had done so many times before when he had been alive. He had always been warm, loving, caring. She remembered his smile, and she could still hear his laughter. She remembered how ticklish he was. She smiled a little as her tears fell upon his face.

  They would have been married in two months. Two short months. But that wedding would never take place. Not now. Miriam leaned down and kissed him tenderly on his forehead.

  “Goodbye, my love,” she whispered softly.

  Then she turned around and walked out of the room without looking back.

  Miriam was not doing well. All alone in her apartment, she sat on the floor in the corner, hugging her knees as she wept. It was dark and cold, just like the morgue. Hours passed, but she couldn’t get herself to get up and move. She sat there in the dark, tears rolling down her cheeks, mourning her loss. She felt paralyzed. She wanted to get up, to close the blinds, turn on the lights and the heat. But she just sat there in the corner, frozen. The night cast long shadows in her apartment. No one was there to witness her grief.

  She had already called her parents and tearfully told them the news that there would be no wedding. Because there would be no groom. Her mother was just about ready to get on a plane and come to her, but Miriam assured them that she would be okay. Except that it was a lie.

  She was far from okay.

  Hours later, she was curled up on the bathroom floor, sobbing uncontrollably. The bright light of the bathroom was in stark contrast to the darkness in the apartment earlier. The emptiness that she felt without Daniel was a deepening black abyss in the pit of her stomach. It was terrifying and overwhelming. She couldn’t face it. So she succumbed to the grief, feeling helpless and hopeless. It felt like no matter how much she cried, there were still more tears to shed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was worried that she was getting dehydrated. Another part of her wished that she would pass out, maybe even die. Perhaps she would be reunited with Daniel. At least she wouldn’t have to endure this torturous pain.

  Morning came. Miriam opened her eyes, blinking at the bright sunshine streaming in through the tiny bathroom window. The light was still on from last night, but was hardly noticeable with the bright morning light flooding the tiny bathroom. Miriam realized that she had finally fallen asleep in the bathroom. Her mouth felt parched and her lips felt dry and cracked. Her muscles ached and her body hurt all over. Very slowly, she moved her arm. Taking her time, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. She looked around her, her mind still groggy from sleep. For the first time since that phone call from Daniel, she felt calm and still. She took a deep breath, realizing that she needed water. She tried to stand, but felt light-headed. Her pulse was also high. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She sat back down on the floor, giving herself some more time
. A few minutes later, she tried again. Holding on to the wall for support, she slowly made her way out of the bathroom and down the hall to the kitchen. It was an effort just to open the refrigerator. She grabbed a water bottle, opened it and chugged the chilled water down, savoring the cool and refreshing sensation. It felt good. Her heart slowed down to a normal rhythm, and within minutes, she began to feel more like herself again.

  She realized that she was famished, and quickly made herself a sandwich. Two slices of multigrain bread, lettuce, tomatoes and a slice of cheddar cheese. It was simple, but she didn’t care. All she needed was some sustenance. After eating, she finally felt like she had some energy again. She looked around at the apartment, and only memories of Daniel came flooding through. Tears threatened to start flowing again, but she held them back. “Too much,” she thought to herself. “No more.”

  She had to keep her mind busy, distracted. Now that she was feeling energized again, she flew into a flurry of action. First, it was time for a shower. She shed her clothes as she hurried to the bathroom. After a quick, cold shower, she wrapped a towel around herself and went to the bedroom to change. She didn’t spend any time picking out an outfit - a simple pair of slacks and a blouse would do. She grabbed her laptop and small purse on her way out of the apartment. As she was walking to her car, her phone started to ring. She pulled it out of her purse and glanced at it. The caller ID displayed the name of the caller: “Lisa Chen”. Miriam winced. This was going to be about Daniel, and she felt like she just didn’t have any more strength. She let it ring to voicemail.

  The coffee shop, as always, was humming with activity. Miriam sat in the corner in her usual spot, a cup of hot coffee by her side while she brooded over the screen of the open Macbook in front of her. She had launched the Chrome web browser and logged into her Gmail account. Pages of unread emails stared back at her from the laptop screen. Some of them were from Daniel. She had yet to begin her query. She had been avoiding getting started, but she couldn’t delay any longer. She sighed deeply, and reached for the keyboard. She typed Daniel’s name in the search bar, and Gmail instantly filtered the email messages, displaying only the ones that Daniel had sent. “1-50 of many”. Four unread messages. She trembled as she clicked on the oldest unread message. It had been sent on the day that he had died. Before he had boarded the flight.

  “I’m heading home Miriam. At the airport. Getting on the plane in a little bit.”

  Such a short message. Such a big emotion for her. It felt like she was communicating with him. She smiled in pain. Everything reminded her of what they had, and what she had lost. She clicked on the other three messages in rapid succession. Each was a short one-liner.

  “Really missed you. This trip has been a real eye-opener. Can’t wait to see you.”

  “Just dropping something in the mail before we take off, it should be a quick flight.”

  “Will call you when I land, I have something very important to tell you. Love you.”

  Miriam furrowed her brow when she read the last email. Daniel had said the same thing when he had called her. He had something very important to tell her. What was it? Her mind wandered back to their conversations before his trip. She remembered asking him what it was about. He had replied that it was a sort of spiritual retreat. But she couldn’t recall much more information than that. She began to scan through his older emails. One of them was an email he had forwarded to her. It looked like an email from a sort of newsletter on health and wellness. The article was about the benefits of eating a vegetarian diet. She scanned the text of the article in the forwarded email, not sure what she was looking for. It talked about eating mostly vegetables, avoiding meat and white sugar, and it also said not to eat peanuts, shellfish, eggs or mushrooms. Miriam had reached the end of the article, and was about to close the email when something in the signature line caught her eye. 2F. In bold and italics. There was no explanation for it, nothing to elaborate on it’s meaning. But it seemed somehow significant.

  She closed the email and kept scanning through the other emails from Daniel. She noted a few others which also contained the mysterious 2F notation. It was always tucked away in an inconspicuous location like the signature of the email. None of them had any explanation as to what it was. Finally, she found Daniels registration confirmation for the spiritual retreat. He had forwarded it to her weeks ago, when he had signed up for the retreat. At the time, she had just glanced at it for a second without paying much attention to it. But now, she stared at the invoice in the email. In large red letters across the top of the email, the header read “Welcome to the 2F conference. You are now registered.” It sounded like some sort of new-age, business-technology conference. That was the major trend these days. But when Daniel had spoken of it, he had mentioned that it was a type of spiritual retreat. The look and feel of the invoice was anything but spiritual. Miriam scrolled down and her eyes widened when she saw the amount charged. $4995.

  She had a very unsettling feeling about all of this. Her eyes drifted above the top of her laptop screen as she was lost in her thoughts. And that’s when she saw the man seated across the hallway. He was holding up a newspaper, but it was clear that he was not reading it. He seemed to be watching her. As soon as she saw him, he raised the newspaper to hide his face. Miriam frowned. Who reads newspapers these days, anyway? She hadn’t seen anyone reading a newspaper in years.

  He was tall, had broad shoulders and was very well built. He looked like he had just walked out of a gym. Brown hair, short cropped. And a square jaw. He looked solid, like a rock. The perfect stereotype for a bodyguard.

  She discreetly pulled her smartphone out of her purse. Holding it in front of her, using the laptop screen to hide it from view, she turned on the camera, and waited. A few seconds later, a noisy group of teenagers entered the coffee shop, causing the man to turn and look. That’s when she popped her phone above the laptop and snapped a quick picture. He didn’t even notice. Miriam put away her phone with a small sense of satisfaction.

  She closed her laptop abruptly, taking advantage of the distraction provided by the teenagers. Taking her coffee with her, she grabbed her purse and laptop and walked out the door, hoping that Coffeeshop Bodyguard would not follow her.

  Chapter 3

  The library was quiet and serene. Everything seemed to move in slow motion here. Hushed voices. People walking softly. Intense concentration. This was where Miriam felt at home. There was no hustle and bustle here, no meet and greet, no social connection. It was just you and the books. And there was one other thing that you wouldn’t get in the coffee shop — privacy.

  Miriam had looked over her shoulder every few seconds after she had left the coffee shop. It had been a nerve-wracking experience, and she had tried her best to take a circuitous route so as to add a layer of confusion in case she was being followed. But she hadn’t noticed anyone following her. And there was no sign of Coffeeshop Bodyguard. She made it to the library feeling nervous and anxious.

  She found a desk tucked away in a corner on the fifth floor. It was next to a window. On the other side were rows of shelves with books on Anthropology. She sat down at the desk and plugged her laptop power cord into the wall outlet. The laptop came out of hibernation, showing her the last email she had been looking at. It connected automatically to the library’s Wi-Fi network. But Miriam was not going to take any chances this time. She chose a private VPN that she trusted, and connected to it. From now on, she would ensure that her online activity was private and couldn’t be spied upon.

  The invoice that Daniel had forwarded her contained a link to the website for the 2F conference. She clicked on the link and the website opened in a new Chrome browser window. The website design was modern, with lots of animation and graphics. Colors were subdued, hues of red and maroon, with a black background and lots of shades of gray. It felt very artistic and had a lot of aesthetic appeal.

  On the website were many links to reading material. There was background information
on the 2F movement, along with the philosophy of 2F, and some information on its founder. They also had a link to signup for their email newsletter. Miriam entered her email address in the text box and clicked the button. She immediately received two emails in her Gmail account. The first was an acknowledgement of the email newsletter subscription, and the second was a welcome email from the 2F organization. It began with flowery prose welcoming her to “the movement that is awakening the planetary soul to the next evolutionary level of consciousness.” She quickly scanned the long paragraphs of the email, not really paying much attention to the content. She was looking for clues.

  It all sounded very new-age and esoteric. A part of her was wondering how Daniel could have fallen for such an obvious ruse. She felt her heart sink a bit.

  She had scrolled all the way to the end of the email. The last paragraph had a link to the 2F online forum, which was described as “a place where open minds can meet.” She clicked on the link and the browser was redirected to another 2F website. This one was the online forum, which contained several sub-forums under different headings, such as “New to 2F”, “Pama - the early teachings”, “Meet and Greet”, “Advanced 2F”, and so on. She clicked on the “Register” link and filled in the required information (username and email address) to join the forum. She used a pseudonym for the username. Simone Fell. It was a fake, made-up name that she sometimes used for online mailing lists. She even had a separate email address set up for this name. She logged out of her real Gmail account and into the Simone Fell Gmail account and then waited.