Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
About the Author
The Eyes of Little Birds
Ross H. Henderson
PUBLISHED BY:
Black Capsule Publishing
Copyright © 2016
http://rosshhenderson.com
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real names, places, or events are purely coincidental, and should not be construed as being real.
No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner, except as allowable under “fair use,” without the express written permission of the author.
Chapter 1
“This doesn't sound much like a hospital,” said Tom Vincent as he walked in, led by his wife Maggie. “It doesn't look much like one, either,” Maggie agreed. She described the lobby for him, with its large glass panels and revolving doors, separated from the receptionist's desk by a sea of quartz granite. Even in 2037, the 76-story BioMek Horizons Building still dominated the New Seattle skyline and would be grossly out of place in the Vincents' hometown of Nome, Alaska. “Maybe I'll get a chance to see it if this procedure works,” Tom said. “I think you will see it soon, sweetie,” Maggie assured him. She helped her husband find his seat and sit. Together they had the caution in their movements of an elderly couple, despite being in their mid-thirties and in good physical condition.
Tom was tall and lean, with good muscular definition, but moved unsteadily in unfamiliar places. Maggie Vincent, for her part, was a good match for Tom: above average in height, with big blue eyes and shoulder-length dark brown hair. She was definitely up to the task of helping her man get through this crisis, whether the task at hand was to be a temporary setback, or challenges in adjusting to a new life.
For the time being, Tom was blind and was content to have his wife describe the sights of the place where technology and biology were combined. The upper floors were office space and conference halls, the middle floors were where scientists and engineers developed technology, and the lower floors held the hospital and rehab center. It made sense this way. If a repair or adjustment needed to be made for a patient, it could be done in-house. Prosthetics and implants were only a part of the BioMek Horizons portfolio, but it came to be what they were known best for. The company's primary income came from creating armor and weaponry, but making it possible for the crippled to walk was great press for the company.
Today, everyone wanted to see what kind of PR would be won by helping a blind man to see.
While he waited to be escorted downstairs, Tom reflected on how he came to be in an office building in New Seattle waiting for this miracle of science.
Six months ago he was working on an oil rig in the Chukchi Sea, northwest of Alaska, and looking forward to the end of his three-month assignment, to fishing, hunting, and relaxing. The job wasn't as demanding as many on the rig. As an instrument technician for Earthcore Oil, Tom made sure various equipment used for measuring was in proper working order. Despite the relative ease of the job, Tom was in good shape from his hobbies, and from paying his dues working the more physically demanding positions on various oil rigs. He was lean and strong with a full head of hair, a mix of blond, brown, and gray. His face was tan and weather-beaten but his easy smile made him appear younger, except when he grew his beard, which was almost all white.
One rainy night, a fire broke out in the engine room. Karl, one of the youngest workers on the rig, was trapped inside and Tom went in to save him. It was a challenge getting to him, and an even bigger challenge to lift Karl; his spiky blond hair and boyish looks belied his size and strength. While Tom was trying to get Karl on his feet, there was a secondary explosion caused by leaking gas being sucked into the engines. Tom was blinded as fire and toxic gas combined in an explosion that went straight into his eyes. He and Karl were helped out of the room by some of the other workers, but Tom was also very sick from the fumes. As he passed out, he could hear Karl screaming in pain and horror from the extent of his burns, but Tom could not see anything.
The settlement from the oil company was generous and ensured Tom and Maggie could live in relative comfort without his having to work. The medical bills were minimal since there wasn't anything that could be done at the time to try to save Tom's eyes. The next few months were difficult, but things got easier as Tom adjusted to his blindness and his new life. He learned to read braille, and how to get around using a cane. The couple had planned a move to Portland, so Tom might be able to venture outside home independently. In Nome he would have to be driven everywhere. But before the plans could be realized, a phone call changed everything.
Chapter 2
“Mr. Vincent? I’m calling from BioMek Horizons on behalf of Dr. Wyatt Davies, who believes you would be an ideal candidate for a radical new procedure to regain your eyesight,” began the voice. This was a lot to take in at first but Tom caught up quickly. “I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but why me?”
“The newsworthiness of a hero blinded while saving a co-worker, combined with the amount of detail provided about your injuries, has allowed Dr. Davies to study you and your injuries extensively.”
“And?”
“And… it is a high-profile story – one that Earthcore Oil would like to see conclude with an equally high-profile happy ending, American-style, while taking full credit for taking care of their people.”
“Right.”
“So, are you interested in getting your sight back?”
“I am.”
“Wonderful! I’m sending you and Mrs. Vincent plane tickets for Seattle. You’ll arrive two weeks from today. Dr. Davies is looking forward to meeting you.”
“We’re looking forward to it as well. Thank you.”
After two long weeks of anticipation and preparation, they were finally sitting in Dr. Davies’ office. The doctor began, “How much have you heard about the procedure we’re about to do?” “Not much,” Tom replied, “but the way I understand it, you’re going to restore my sight by replacing my eyes with man-made ones.”
“That’s right. But these aren’t just man-made eyes. Instead, they are two armies of nanobots coming together and using your DNA to form your eyes. They will look and work like your old eyes. If something comes into contact with your eyes, the army will move away and come back when it is safe. If part of the army is lost, it will rebuild using your DNA, your tissue, and its own material. They will never lose eyesight with age, and will defend against glaucoma and any other potential hazards to your eyesight created by your own body. Put simply, you will never need an eye doctor again.”
“That sounds great, Doctor. When do we begin?”
“I’ll have to run a few tests and get you ready for the procedure. We’ll start in about an hour and, if all goes as planned, we should have you on your way before lunch.”
Dr. Davies and his assistant, Dr. Reyes, took a tissue sampl
e from the inside of Tom’s cheek and a blood sample. Thirty minutes later they came in and announced it was time for the procedure. Tom thought it was strange that they never referred to it as “surgery,” but in a strange way it made sense: they weren’t cutting into his body, and they wouldn’t need to stitch him up afterward. Still, it seemed like calling it a procedure undersold the medical miracle he was taking part in.
As Tom reclined in the automated chair, he heard Dr. Davies and Dr. Reyes on the intercom, “Tom, this is Dr. Davies. We are here and will be doing the procedure by remote with automated assistance. You don’t have much to do at this point. You’ve been given a local anesthetic and may feel a little pressure on your eyes.” The computer-assisted arm zeroed in holding the thinnest of hypodermic needles, injecting a silvery fluid, and filling in the missing parts of Tom’s eyes. He barely felt a thing.
“That’s it,” said Dr. Reyes, who was still in the other room. “Really?” Tom was surprised. “Well, most of the real work was done about an hour ago when we programmed the nanobots with your DNA so they could reproduce and rebuild with the same instructions as the rest of your body,” explained Dr. Reyes.
“So, what now? How long will it take to know if the opera-, uh, procedure was successful?”
“Soon. If all is well you will start seeing light as each bit of the surface of your eyes is restored.”
Almost as soon as he heard the words, Tom could see a small point of light, smaller than a pinhole, but gradually getting wider and brighter. It reminded him of the one time he could recall awakening after having been knocked unconscious. He had hit his head on a diving board while trying to learn how to properly do a gainer, a back-flipping dive into the pool started facing forward toward the water. He didn’t jump out far enough and hit his head on the board. As he came to, he realized he was out of the water but his vision took a minute to come back. It did so in the same gradual way. In both situations Tom felt himself coming back to reality, seemingly by focusing on the spot and watching it grow. It was as if he were willing himself back.
Thirty minutes later, Tom was regaining the last of his vision in Dr. Davies’ office. It took some mental adjustment to match the present with the past six months. “Hello, my love,” Maggie greeted him as he got used to his new surroundings. “It’s unbelievable,” Tom said, “My vision is back, as clear as it was on the rig. Clearer… I probably haven’t seen this clearly since I was a kid… and baby, you’ve never been more beautiful.”
“You’re looking good too, sweetie. Your eyes look just like they did the day you went to sea. They’re really your eyes!”
At about that time a man in scrubs came in. He looked like he had just come out of surgery, right down to the coverings for his shoes and his cap, which was black with a flame job screen-printed on it, like one might see on a sports car in the 1950s and beyond. Poor fashion choices aside, Tom could rest assured he was in a sterile environment.
“Dr. Davies?”
“No, I’m Dr. Reyes. Dr. Davies will be with us presently. How are we feeling?”
“My eyesight has never been better, Dr. Reyes…Dr. Reyes? Doctor!”
Dr. Reyes had dropped his clipboard, was struggling to maintain consciousness, and mumbling incoherently.
“Call a doctor in here, I think he’s having a stroke!” Tom gently lowered the doctor onto the couch he had been resting on minutes before. Dr. Davies arrived with a team of orderlies, who picked Dr. Reyes up on a stretcher with more speed and less care than Tom had shown. Davies assured the couple, “He’ll be all right. The doctor has a form of epilepsy, and just needs medication and rest.” Tom knew what he saw and that Davies was lying. One of the new sights Tom was treated to was Reyes being carted out with his face frozen in a silent scream; one of his eyes was a solid, deep red from hemorrhaging. He stood in front of Maggie so she wouldn’t have to see what he saw.
Dr. Davies quickly composed himself and smoothed out his lab coat. With his occasionally blank stare and straight, black hair parted on one side, he looked every bit the scientist, if not the mad scientist. Dr. Davies almost completely disregarded Dr. Reyes’ death, and continued the post-op interview as if nothing had happened. The Vincents went along with the charade, eager to leave the BioMek Horizons building as quickly as possible, eager to enjoy Tom’s newfound eyesight, and eager to forget about poor Dr. Reyes.
Chapter 3
For several months, Tom took advantage of having the free time and money to do what he wanted, which was mostly hunting and fishing, but soon grew restless and asked for a position back at Earthcore Oil. They let him return as a safety consultant. Most of his adult life had been spent on oil rigs and tankers. He missed the work, but mostly he missed the sea.
Much had changed in the last year. The job was about the same since the laws of physics and general rules for safely drilling for oil never change, but the people were different. Most of the team Tom knew was gone, replaced by younger, greener workers who were willing to work in these increasingly desperate times. The leadership was different too. Tom didn’t recognize many of the new names, and they too worked under a different set of rules. The new regime seemed to value politics over results, and had a crew of cameras and yes-men following wherever they went. This was certainly unusual, but the embedded press corps were respectful, kept their distance, and didn’t interfere with day-to-day operations.
Craig Galloway was a reporter with the New Seattle Post-Intelligencer who would try to have a word with Tom from time to time, having remembered him from the fire a little over a year ago, as impressed with his bravery as he was fascinated with his new eyes. He was a little younger than Tom, but still old enough to remember how things used to be done. Despite being in his early thirties, he was almost completely bald, and on the chubby side. To those who didn’t know him he was all business, rarely smiled, and seemed older than he really was. With Tom he had an easy smile and laughed often with him, making him seem much younger and carefree. The two shared a mutual respect and genuine friendship.
Tom was happy to talk to Craig about whatever he wanted to talk about. Since Craig soon had enough information to tell Tom’s story in enough depth to fill a thick book, most subsequent conversations covered hunting, fishing, and college football. Craig also looked out for Tom, keeping the rest of the reporters away, and helping him navigate his way through the occasional interview so he would look good and wouldn’t be taken out of context. For all intents and purposes, he was Tom’s handler when it came to the media.
As the three-month assignment drew to a close, Tom and Craig planned to fly to Kotzebue a few weeks after returning home. It would be mid-September, right in the middle of caribou season. Craig was excited about this new challenge, but first he had to submit the manuscript for his book to his publisher. This was something he insisted on doing in person, as the Internet had become very corrupt: no one respected intellectual property anymore. Many of Earthcore’s and BioMek Horizons’ competitors, as well as competing media outlets, would jump at the chance to steal the book or destroy it outright.
Tom confirmed the plan with Craig near the helipad on the rig, “Just a few weeks. You’re sure it won’t take longer?”
“Yes, I’ve already bought my ticket. I’ll arrive on the 12th, which is a Sunday, so we’ll have a good four days to hunt before my flight takes off late on Friday the 17th. It actually shouldn’t take more than a few days to get the manuscript to Briauuuuuuh… Buuuuuuuuh…”
“Craig, are you OK?” As the words were still coming out, Tom could plainly see that Craig was definitely not OK. He was convulsing as his nose bled. Tom pleaded in vain, “Craig, speak to me!”
It was over for Craig before Tom could even call for medical help. Despite being in the middle of the helipad on a day when many people were arriving and leaving the rig, it seemed like forever before help arrived. But it wouldn’t have mattered and Tom knew it. He had only seen one other death like this one, but this time he saw two solid crimson ey
es staring back at him and there was no doubt about the victim’s chances.
Chapter 4
Tom couldn’t go back to Earthcore after Craig’s death. He didn’t feel he belonged on the rig anymore. Too much had changed in such a short time. The company offered to make him a vice president in charge of operations, but his heart just wasn’t in it. Besides, there were already too many of those in the company, and he wondered what he would do that seven other VPs weren’t doing already.
Tom reconnected with Maggie and they spent weeks together, traveling around Canada in between trips to New Seattle for physical, mental, and psychological evaluations. The change of scenery was good, but it always came back to the BioMek Building.
On the first visit back to BioMeck Horizons, Tom talked with Dr. Davies about the incident with Craig and mentioned he believed his treatment had something to do with it. He asked if it were possible, but the doctor dismissed his theory by asking, “Why would BioMek want to do something like this?” Tom answered, “I never said anyone wanted to do it, I was only asking if it is possible, even by accident.”
“Your eyes will be the last word in medical technology for the next hundred years. The answer to your question is an emphatic ‘no,’ Mr. Vincent. I have a meeting in five minutes. Dr. Curtis will be with you presently. Good day.” Davies exited without waiting for a response.
Dr. Robert Curtis was Tom’s psychologist while in BioMek’s care. He had a gentle demeanor, and was much easier to talk to than the cold and defensive Dr. Davies. He was able to ease Tom’s inevitable feelings of guilt and loss related to Craig’s passing. After hearing about the incident at length over the course of a few days, Dr. Curtis suggested taking the hunting trip that he never got to go on with Craig. “It will get you doing something you enjoy and you’ll be on your own with some time to think, but in an unpredictable environment where you won’t have all day to dwell on the past. Most importantly, I believe it will give you the closure you’re looking for. You never got to say goodbye, so maybe this will be the next best thing.”
The Eyes of Little Birds: The First Nick Wolfe Sci Fi Adventure (Nick Wolfe Adventure Series Book 1) Page 1
