The Book Keeper

by Amelia Grace

  ‘Georgia..’ I said, my voice pained.

  I released her and slid down the wall to the floor, my hands over my face, hiding my agonised face from her. My heart was tormented, by my mind. My heart wanted the pure passion, to be temporarily lost in a world of ecstasy. But my mind was restraining me, whipping me to submission.

  I ran my hands through my hair, scratching my nails along my scalp. Physical pain would haul me from despair. I stood, walked to the fireplace and grabbed my shirt. I walked towards the front door, stopping momentarily to button my shirt. I felt her hand on my shoulder.

  ‘I’m sorry Cohen,’ Georgia whispered. I stopped midway through the last button of my shirt and stared at the closed door for a second. I took a deep breath, put my hand on the door knob and turned it, opening the door to my escape, and back into my comfort zone. I’m sorry Georgia, but you are not my wife.....

  Dark storm clouds continued to unleash their fury in the nightshade hours. I walked home in the pouring rain. Then nobody could see the tears that rolled down my face. My heart hurt, my head hurt, my body ached for her, my body ached for her.

  Live my life with no regrets.

  And I would regret my moment of weakness, my moment of indiscretion with her when I meet the love of my life. The woman whom I will love deeply, cherish and adore with my whole heart. The woman whom I will want to wrap my wings of love around, and protect her with my life.

  I will know her when she walks into my life. I will know......I have to believe that!

  I started to run in the pouring rain. The physical pain will override the emotional pain.

  As I unlocked the door to my apartment, the drops of blood on my shirt caught my eye. My scalp, my frustration. My life. About to change tomorrow – for worse.

  Under the hot water of the shower I felt nothing where my heart should have been.

  No happiness, no fear, no hate, no love.

  Nothing.

  I was like an empty vessel. It was like my body was undergoing metamorphosis in preparation for the Mind Reading Implant tomorrow. I closed my eyes and slid down the tiled wall, and sat on the shower floor, the warm water cascading over me like a waterfall, washing away the human-ness from me. My heart was now void, my mind empty. I was ready.

  Chapter 15

  Complete darkness surrounded me as I awoke from a nothing sleep with my nothing heart and nothing head. I closed my eyes. There was no going back. I had committed to being the guinea-pig. I could lose 100% of my sight in my right eye if the design components and organic combinations were incorrect. But if the engineering of this design was flawed, it had to be me who should pay the price of blindness, not someone else.

  The weight of my backpack surprised me as I loaded it onto my shoulders and left the bedroom, and headed toward the front door. The taxi would be arriving at any moment.

  I ran my hand along the wooden dining table as I walked to the front door. My fingers grazed the bloody book.

  ‘You must write your full name and birth date in the book – it will all become clear.’

  Her words bounced around in my nothing head, echoing in the vacant space. I stopped momentarily and considered the deed that I must do. Was I bound to it as the keeper of the bloody book? Rules were meant to be broken right?

  The Bloody Book! I breathed in deeply, and then moved forward on my journey to the front door, and stopped.

  A prominent bang sounded as my backpack hit the wooden floor. Infuriated, I turned and marched back to the dining table. With a blue pen, I was damned if it was to be black, I wrote my full name and birth date on the third pure white page of the bloody book.

  Cohen Seth Darcy

  7.8.87

  I closed the leather cover and lay the pen across the book and returned to the front door, hoisted the heavy back pack over my shoulder again and left to the waiting taxi in the street.

  Next stop, the hospital.

  Time was moving forward as though I was being sucked into a vortex. There was no escape. No waking up from the nightmare.

  The rain continued as we travelled along to busy roadway. And it beat down upon my back like a thousand whips.

  Admission into the hospital, pre-op and the journey into the operating theatre remain a blur. Perhaps I had subconsciously shut off my mind to cope with what I was about to do. Betrayal of my employer was a necessity, a must do. Betrayal of the human race was unforgiveable, an enormous burden that would weigh upon my shoulders and heart forever. Would I survive the ramifications of what I was about to do? The emotional burden that could possibly lead to self destruction? My life was now a ticking time bomb, and the timer had been started. Perhaps it was my destiny, and the timer had been ticking since the moment of my conception......

  Then blackness overcame me……..

  *~*~*~*~*

  Pained seared through my right eye like acid burning my skin. The headache above my eye was causing nausea. I didn’t open my good eye yet. I didn’t want to. It would mean that I would have to face reality. The cold hard truth that I was now humanity’s number one enemy. Couldn’t I just stay in the dream state where anything that happened was not real, and hence I was protected in my cocooned surrounding.

  The steady beat of the heart monitor began to annoy me. I wanted to rip the bloody machine off its mountings and smash it onto the floor. Peace...I wanted peace. But what peace? Peace from silence of sound, or peace in my soul?

  The beeping of the heart monitor started to pick up pace. The anger that I felt was being reflected by my increased heartbeat. Within seconds I heard the sound of running footsteps approaching, and murmured voices over me. Then the sound of a female voice trying to persuade me to open my eyes. Bugger! I liked being in a state of suspended animation.

  No expectations. No accountability. No pressure.

  ‘Mr Darcy, Mr Darcy,’ the angelic and calm voice sang, while I felt the touch of a warm hand on my shoulder.

  With great effort I opened my left eye. My right eye had heavy bandaging forcing it to remain closed.

  ‘Ah,’ I groaned as the pain seared through me again.

  ‘How is your pain Mr Darcy on a scale of 1-10?’ the angelic nurse inquired.

  ’10!’ I spat at her through gritted teeth.

  ‘Good to know Mr Darcy. We can help you with that,’ she said, her voice calm. She placed a cylindrical device in my hand and guided my thumb to the top of it where there was a button.

  ‘When your pain is too much, push this button. You will feel much more comfortable Mr Darcy,’ she explained. I felt her push my thumb down on the button, and almost immediately my body relaxed, the pain numbed. The world was instantly a better place.

  ‘Thank-you,’ I whispered to her. She nodded, smiling at me, her clear sparkling blue eyes warm, caring.

  The patient controlled analgesia was my best friend for two days. And then after that, I took oral pain relief.

  Day four saw the removal of my eye bandaging. It was neither pleasant, nor inspiring.

  I was instructed to keep my eye closed as the bandage was removed, and to wait for the good doctor to tell me when and how to open my eye to meet the world.

  The release of the pressure of the bandage on my eye caused an instant violent spinning sensation and nausea. I struggled to keep the contents of my stomach down. I breathed steadily through my tight lips to subdue the urge to vomit. After a short while the spinning ceased, and I was aware of the gritty feeling covering my eye, and then the cool sensation of the skin being cleaned around my eye.

  ‘Turn the lights off please,’ instructed the doctor.

  ‘Cohen……breathe out, and then slowly open your eyes. Blink slowly when you feel the urge.’

  I nodded my head slightly acknowledging his instruction. It was do or die time. Eyesight or blindness? Temporary or permanent?

  I breathed out through my pursed lips with optimum control until little air remained in my lungs. And then I focused on the muscles around my eyes, and opened my eyes
with absolute control of the speed of opening.

  My compromised eye lagged behind the healthy eye as I opened them. But open it was, accompanied by the air attacking it like acid, tears welling and running down my face. I blinked slowly, in pain, then tried to categorize exactly what I could see.

  It wasn’t clear what I saw, if I could see at all. Darkness surrounded me, even with my good eye. But that was the plan, to introduce light to the implanted vision slowly, and to let my eye adjust to working with a type of filter over the lens.

  The doctor had not spoken. His silence was both irritating and frustrating. I needed to know what he was thinking. It was a pity that the mind reading lens was not operational at this moment. It would have been the perfect test for it.

  As each hour passed by, the light luminosity increased, until it was glowing at full wattage. I sat, bewildered. My vision was perfect. Not a defect in the field of view.

  The good doctor performed the VEP test determining whether the optic nerve was working properly, the erg test for the retina response to lights of different brightness and colour, and the EOG test for eye movement as well as my visual acuity. All good.

  ‘Cohen. The outcome of the procedure appears to have been a success at this very early stage. But I still refrain from declaring it successful officially until after six months. During this time, your vision may fluctuate. You may have glare, see halos during the stabilization period. I want to see you every four weeks for observation and fine tuning if needed. Do you have any questions?’ Dr Williams asked, his eyes scanning my implanted eye the entire time, his finger and thumb on either side of his square chin.

  ‘No questions, thank-you Dr Thomas,’ I answered, wondering how much the good doctor knew about my implant, and would he be killed if he knew too much information?

  I held out my hand to shake his. He took it and I nodded to him in thanks.

  The soft pillow cocooned my head as I looked out the window at the bright blue sky. How long would it be? How long would it be until I discovered my new mind reading ability? Would it be activated by an electrical impulse, a chemical drop to my eye, or will it fuse with my own blood vessels and nerves using the own body’s combination of electrical and chemical processes in the nervous system? Only time would tell. And only I would know if it happened.

  I ran my hand through my hair. I was free to leave the hospital institution. It felt surreal. I had walked in completely human in every way. And now I leave with a piece of technology fusing itself into the intricate electrical system of my body to work as one with my own neurons. What would I be classified as now? A cyborg, a neuro-techno freak, a tech-med-borg? What would it take away from me, and what would it give to me? At least I would be the only one to know if it worked. And then at least, I could work with it, or shut in down in denial.

  Play the game. Play it better.

  I grabbed my backpack and hurled it over my shoulder. Then promptly left the hospital. The rays of the sun attacked me like a spotlight in a search and rescue operation. Except I wasn’t missing, or lost. Shielding my eyes with my sunglasses, I lowered my head and stepped up the pace to the waiting taxi, and promptly arrived at my apartment in no less than twenty minutes.

  The aromatic smell of a roast dinner cooking in the oven greeted me, reminding me of the infuriating fact that I was under surveillance. My heart took a nose dive at the disappointment of reality. This was my life.

  I ate dinner alone, accompanied by the bloody book on the table. Another reminder of the reality that I had walked out on a perfectly beautiful woman. I rested my head in my hands. My life was such a mess. I pinched the top of my nose between my eyes between my thumb and index finger as I squeezed my eyes shut. Pain seared through my right eye. Reality check again.

  The good doctor said that I would feel like this – downtrodden and beaten. Bed and sleep was the best place for me right now. A place where I would be oblivious to everything that I hated about my life right now. A place where I felt no pain, no joy, just the peacefulness of sleep and a state of being unconscious to reality and the emotions presently suffocating me.

  Within two minutes, I was surrounded by the cloak of darkness with sleep descending upon me like a thick fog, until I was conscious no more.

  Bliss.

  Chapter 16

  Sleep was meant to be bliss, total consciousness of life voided. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to mess up your brain.

  But the world was spinning, alternating between black and white images and colour. Peoples expressions, natural disasters, the sun peeping through the dark ominous storm clouds unleashing violent bolts of lightning, and the precious birth of babies surrounded by angelic wings of love. Then there was vision of me dispersed throughout the dream sequence. I was standing alone, the wind blowing my unkempt dark brown hair as I stood atop a mountain looking down at the world, confused and frustrated by the mess, and distressed by the screams for help by humanity.

  But I couldn’t help them. I looked down at my chest and found a huge gaping hole where my heart should be. It was gone. I was alive, yet not. I closed my eyes, praying for heavenly intervention for the earth and its inhabitants. Then I fell to my knees and sobbed, my hands covering my face. At once, a bolt of lightning descended from the cloudless sky, and struck me. The impact was sudden, violent and loud inside my brain, like a gun being discharged.

  I opened my eyes in horror, and then a sharp pain in my chest seized me. So much for a blissful sleep logging out of reality. It turned out to be more savage during the state of subconsciousness. I ran my hand over my face, wiping off the perspiration that layered my skin like a mask.

  I sat up in bed and immediately placed my hand over my chest, making sure that it was complete. I lowered my head, closed my eyes and felt the steady beating of my heart. I smiled to myself, amused by my sheer stupidity. I am still me, and the mind reading implant can’t change that. I won’t let it. I squeezed my eyes shut as a sharp pained shot through my right eyeball, and then receded.

  Breathing deeply, I headed for the shower to wash away the nightmare, and the fear that struck at my very soul.

  The day washed over me in a blur as I struggled to focus my vision, the headaches coming and going. It went on like this for twenty-eight days. And then I went to see the good doctor for my eye service.

  The sterile consultancy room was dimmed as I entered. He appeared before me as if by magic, briefly startling me. He held out his hand greeting me, I took it in mine and nodded briefly to him.

  ‘Mr Darcy. How is our magnum opus?’ he questioned, studying my eye in close detail as if it was the only important part of my being.

  ‘As Dr Thomas described it would be, but I believe the fluctuations between perfect vision are becoming less prominent,’ I answered honestly, eyeing the good doctor, reading his body language, wondering if I could trust him.

  ‘Good Mr Darcy. Sit in this chair while I exam the progress of healing, and it’s cohesion to your own molecular structure,’ he instructed, manically focused on my right eye, as if it were a being of its own.

  His obsessive focus fascinated me. His attention to detail, and fussing over of notes and illustrations annotated with medical abbreviations was peculiar to say the least – much like that of a person with obsessive compulsive disorder. He did not speak as he examined me, but moved with quick precise movements proceeding through test after test, his facial expression unreadable, almost robotic like.

  Then he sat back on his chair and folded his arms across his chest, and stared at me.

  ‘It is unbelievable Mr Darcy, but it is ready. The implant has become one with you in remarkable time. It could never have been predicted to fuse so quickly.’

  Nervousness washed over me instantly as he said those words. I needed more time to assimilate the fact that I had a mind reading device working as one with my mind.

  I wasn’t ready.

  The good doctor stood and walked away from his chair, unlocked a drawer and removed a pair
of glasses. He returned to me, his face serious.

  ‘These,’ he started and then ran his fingers over the black frame of the slim design spectacles, ‘glasses, will engage your mind reading technology. Without the glasses you are a person without ability.’ He handed them to me and indicated for me to put them on.

  ‘But you must wait for an electrical reaction in your brain signaling your oneness with the device. It will come to you as a brilliant flash of light, and the sound much like a gun blast. There is no knowing when this will occur, or even if it will occur,’ he added.

  ‘Will this reaction occur during consciousness or subconsciousness?’ I asked.

  ‘It is not known Mr Darcy. This whole implant technology is a first. It is only predicted that this may happen based on knowledge in biomedicalnanotechnology, and the electrical circuit of the human body. Have you already experienced something such as this?’ he asked, looking at me sideways.

  ‘No,’ I lied. ‘But I will be in contact with you once it occurs,’ I added.

  ‘Ensure that you inform me of the occurrence as soon as it happens. It is a vital piece of information in the study Mr Darcy,’ he added, his voice aggressive.

  Play the game. Play it better.

  ‘Any questions before you leave Mr Darcy?’ he asked, his voice cooler now. He did not wait for me to respond to his question. ‘I will see you in four weeks, unless you experience the fusion, and then I will see you immediately, no matter what time or day. Is that understood Mr Darcy?’ He looked into my eyes with a threat. I narrowed my eyes at him, understanding him perfectly, and nodded. I was not a person to him. I was an experiment.

  The coldness of the door handle reflected the coldness of the heart of the good doctor. He was no longer good. He had changed his demeanor. Was this his true self, or had something occurred to cause this change in his personality? What ever had caused his change in personality, I did not intend to find out.