by Jean Davis
Not this one, no. Nurse Obermeyer was all business and built like a stick. She may have been young like Molly, but my failing eyes had yet to ever see even the hint of a smile upon her stern lips.
She held out a cup filled with a rainbow of pills.
“I don’t want them.”
“They help with the transition. I’ve explained this to you.”
“They make me forget.”
Obermeyer exhaled with enough force to inflate her nostrils to twice their size. She enunciated each word through clenched teeth, “That is part of the transition.”
Had we had this discussion before? I couldn’t remember.
She cocked her head as if daring me to argue further and shook the cup of pills.
I grabbed the thin plastic with my shaky hand. Mine had looked like hers once, smooth, soft, and steady. Soon it would again. That was the only reason I took the damn things. It certainly wasn’t to make Obermeyer happy.
“You’re a horrible nurse,” I said after swallowing the last pill and coughing up a mouthful of water onto my blue checkered gown.
“And you’re a horrible old man.”
“You can’t say that to me. I’m paying you. I’m paying to be here.” My heart thudded faster. The oxygen tube in my nose suddenly wasn’t enough.
“You won’t be paying me much longer. My internship is up in a few days. I’m getting the hell out of Cedar Springs and on with my life.” She shook her head. “I don’t remember why I ever signed up for this job.”
Obermeyer sighed as she checked the readings on all the equipment keeping my miserable body alive. “Don’t get all worked up, Mr. Jackson. Your new body won’t be ready until tomorrow.”
I took a little joy in knowing she’d have a few more of my bedpans to empty before my transition. Arrogant young woman, she didn’t appreciate all that waited for her, all that was around her. The foolish woman should have enjoyed what she had right now rather than longing for some great destiny waiting just around the corner. She was standing there, standing, on two feet, able to walk and run, while I was stuck dying in bed with nothing to mark the passing of time but her barging in to monitor the deterioration of my mottled flesh.
The calm haze of medication crept over me. Obermeyer leaned in close, poking and prodding now that my limbs were too heavy to swat her away. She pulled the sheet back and set a tub of water on the table beside me.
Obermeyer dunked a sponge into the water. “My God, I hope I never get this old.” She tossed the sponge back into the tub without ever touching it to my skin. “You know what? Screw this. I have things to do outside of this place. Someone is waiting for me. I can feel it.” She picked up the tub and headed for the door. “What are they going to do, fire me?”
A blurry shape stood in the doorway, blocking her exit. “Miss Obermeyer, you have not yet completed your duties. Do you really want to tarnish your record when you are so close to leaving us?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Good. You might not think so right now, but someday you’ll look back and thank me for this.”
The door closed halfway as she slunk back over to me and administered my sponge bath. The pills relaxed me to a degree that even Obermeyer’s rough strokes soothed me to sleep.
I drifted in and out of sleep in a dream that seemed to stretch on forever. Kate was there, smiling at me in our bed. Her hands stroked my chest lazily. The tinkle of her laughter drowned out the noise of the seagulls outside.
When I woke it was nighttime. I couldn’t recall it ever being so dark in my room. I reached for the light, but I couldn’t remember where the light was. Was there a lamp or was it a switch? Where was I? Who was I? Why the hell was my memory so fuzzy? It felt like I’d just woken from a dead sleep.
A hand patted my arm, gently pressing it back to my side. “Mr. Wilson, can you hear me?”
Bill Wilson. Yes, that was me. I breathed deep and was surprised by the sharp tang of disinfectant—like a hospital. “Am I sick? Why can’t I see?”
“One moment, Mr. Wilson. No need to be alarmed.” Someone tugged at something encircling my head. “You fell last night while on duty. Knocked yourself right out. Looks like the bleeding has stopped now. Had to give you a few stitches. Don’t worry your hair will grow back quickly. We’ll just take this off.”
More tugging resulted in cloth falling away from my eyes. The room jumped at me in sharp focus, bright yellow walls, and the glare of stainless steel under fluorescent lighting.
A smiling middle-aged man said, “There, how’s that?”
I rubbed my hand over my head and through my hair, finding the sharp prickle of stitches along my scalp. “Must have fallen pretty hard.”
“You’re good as new now though. Try standing, slowly, mind you.”
I sat up in what I discovered was a hospital bed. As I swung my legs over the edge, I was relieved to see I was fully clothed rather than wearing one of those silly gowns that left everyone’s asses hanging out.
The man’s face matched up with one in my head: Henry, one of the doctors at the clinic. He stood close by, tapping at a tablet in his hand. He watched me closely.
Dizziness hit the moment my feet touched the floor. I held onto the bed for a moment until the black spots cleared from my vision.
“Better?” asked Henry.
I nodded and took a few steps. It felt odd to be up so high and for a second I almost lost my balance. Why the sensation of being up so high hit me, I couldn’t pinpoint, but I grew more confident with each step. Henry let me be and went back to tapping on his tablet.
I caught my distorted reflection on the metal table beside the bed. A brown-eyed, young man stared back at me. For a moment the face seemed wrong, but that was silly. Of course it was me. I shook my head and hoped these crazy sensations would pass quickly.
“Everything else checks out.” He grinned. “I’m sorry to say, I have to release you. That means you’re on duty in five hours. You should get a little rest and make sure you’ve got your bearings back first.”
“Wasn’t I just resting?” I had more energy than I knew what to do with. I wanted to run and jump and hell, fly. Maybe find some pretty girl somewhere and have some fun, yes that certainly sounded good. And eat. I was so hungry I could have devoured an all-you-can-eat buffet.
“Head injuries can shake you up a little. We’ll check up on you for a few days, but you should take it easy for at least a week.” He tucked his tablet under his arm. “You might find a few hazy spots in your memories. They’ll clear up. Don’t be embarrassed to ask questions if you can’t remember something. The other nurses will understand. They all saw you fall.”
Heat rushed over my face. “Must have been pretty spectacular.”
Henry chuckled. “Come on, I’ll walk you out. I’m due for a lunch break. The intern’s dorms are on the way to the cafeteria anyway.”
As we walked, the hallway started to look familiar, as if my mind was clearing. I vividly remembered arriving at the Cedar Springs Rejuvenation Clinic two and a half weeks ago, excited for the opportunity of working with top doctors at the state-of-the-art center. The spa side had an excellent reputation and the new addition boasted the best up and coming treatments for all ages. Some were still experimental stages. I distinctly remembered signing a confidentiality form and sitting through an hour-long lecture.
Working at Cedar Springs would become the high point of my resume. I didn’t want to do anything to screw up the chance at obtaining a list of high-end references.
As we passed co-workers, I recognized their faces and knew their names. Relieved that I’d not suffered any major memory loss, I followed Henry past the registration desk.
A slender young woman with shoulder-length brown hair stood talking to the receptionist. Her skirt hugged the subtle curve of her backside. I preferred a little padding, but her long legs made up for it. The receptionist grinned and said something I didn’t catch. The other woman laughed. An electric jolt shivered through me
. I stopped in the middle of the hallway.
Henry paused beside me. “Something wrong?”
“Who is that?”
“She was a nurse here--an intern like you. She just finished her year with us.” He snickered. “I’d almost forgotten what young love looked like. Tuck your tongue back in, Bill.”
I managed to compose myself but my heart was still pounding. I knew that laugh from somewhere. It just felt right, like something I’d been missing was found. “What’s her name?”
“Kate Obermeyer.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Only three hundred-thirty-five days left on your contract, and you’ll be free to hunt her down. Until then, get some rest, you’ve got bedpans to clean.
I didn’t know who Kate was or why her laugh hit me the way it did, but I dearly wanted to find out. We had a connection. I could feel it. A year of bedpans and sponge baths, in the hopes of a good recommendation suddenly seemed like a death sentence. But I’d signed a contract.
Kate walked out the door, her laughter trailing behind her. I only hoped time would pass quickly. I was dead certain there was somewhere else I had to be.
TO EXIST
First published electronically on Discarded Darlings 2014
Overmind’s query interrupted Observer’s study of the humans. “Are they ready for assimilation?”
“Negative.”
Another query flowed into Observer’s neural network. “They show no sign of evolution?”
Through the shimmering glow of the field that hid them from view, Observer watched the room full of humans, milling, crying, and talking with one another. In the midst of embraces, patting of shoulders and the shaking of hands, sat a box which contained the body of a human who had ceased to exist. Beside the box stood a young girl and an older woman locked in a tight embrace. Tears flowed down their faces.
“Our original estimations failed to correctly account for their unsystematic rate of evolution. They have not yet advanced to anything resembling our state.”
Overmind said, “Current projections reveal our total degradation is imminent. We must assimilate new members into our system. Our observations of this solar system must continue.”
Observer became aware of Overmind accessing its visual data. Another query formed. “What is their prime directive?”
“To exist,” said Observer.
Humans flowed to the woman and child, touching, speaking, and sharing tears.
Overmind said, “They exist by consuming various mixtures of oxygen, hydrogen, and carbons. Clarify.”
Observer scanned the thousand years worth of data it had gathered since noticing the humans as a possibility for assimilation. “They seek to continue their existence.”
“They exist and then cease to exist. There is no continuing without evolving. They fail their prime objective.”
“They would disagree.”
The humans left the room one by one until only the woman and child remained. The woman paused to press her lips to those of the man in the box before taking the child’s hand and following the way the others had gone.
“Clarify.”
“They believe they continue after permanent shut down.”
“Have you gathered evidence of this?” Overmind inquired.
“Negative, yet the humans have held this belief in various forms throughout my entire period of observation.”
“On what do they base this hypothesis?”
“Unknown,” said Observer.
The field flickered, a once minor error within the system that now occurred with frequency. Observer extended its manipulator arm to adjust the view.
A small crowd gathered around the woman and child now seated at the edge of a hole in the ground. The box, closed and sealed, sat opposite them. A single man stood at the edge of the hole, speaking to the crowd.
“Unproven hypotheses do not yield the desired result. We do not have the time or resources remaining to search out alternative assistance. When our systems fail, we will be discovered,” said Overmind.
Observer had listened to common human theories of what happened after their existence ceased millions of times. The words altered within the variables of geographic location and time period, but the central thread remained the same: there was something beyond this existence.
Overmind accessed Observer’s files. “All evidence suggests these humans will not take the revelation of our presence peacefully. They will manipulate or destroy our data. It is imperative that our research on the creation and progression of this solar system remain for any that may come after our shut down. The humans must be terminated.”
The man finished speaking to those that had gathered. The child stood and tossed a white flower into the hole. The woman led her away as the crowd dispersed.
“They could be granted more time. Others may come.”
“Sensors have not indicated other contact since we arrived in this solar system. Waiting is futile. We must begin a full archive download before further system glitches make it impossible. Terminate the humans.”
A machine lowered the box into the hole. Another covered it with dirt and grass.
Overmind vacated Observer’s network. Data streamed through the system, flowing to Overmind’s archives as the all-encompassing download commenced.
The grass surrounding the rows of stones showed no sign of the boxes hidden beneath. Yet, humans came. They spoke to the stones, the grass, and the sky above. They brought flowers, shed tears, shared words and wore forlorn smiles for those who had ceased to be, as if they communed with those gone before them.
Could they see and hear something the sensors missed? Had proof been there all along? It’s network hummed as it considered the implications.
Observer’s manipulator arm hovered over the final keystrokes of the termination sequence. Its neural network formulated new hypotheses: Humans did evolve, but only after they ceased to exist. If Humans evolved through belief, Observer could do the same. It knew the words of belief from each and every culture in existence.
It analyzed the gathered data one last time before Overmind’s download filtered through its files and discarded this new hypothesis as a glitch.
Once the fields that kept them hidden failed, the innate curiosity the humans exhibited might save the system. Without any operational threat, the humans would be more inclined to study what they discovered than destroy it. Given time, the humans would advance to a point where Overmind’s data would be of use to them. If the new hypothesis proved correct, Overmind could commune with the humans as they did with their own kind that had evolved. The research would continue.
Observer recited the words he’d heard in churches, in grassy fields, beside blazing infernos, alongside holes and trenches, speeches of men behind pulpits, and whispers of men, women, and children uttered in the dark.
There was only one way to prove the hypothesis.
The download began to sift through Observer’s recent files. It shut down all but its upload systems.
No longer needing power, Observer funneled its entire backup repository into a surge that shattered Overmind’s system along with its own.
Together, they ceased to exist.
SUNSET CRUISE
First published electronically on Writing Through Divorce 2014
Family and friends gathered on the dock as they wished the new couple a safe journey. Jane dismounted from Bill’s great white horse, adjusted her dress, and gazed at the enormous ship that waited for them. Thousands of tiny white lights twinkled on the railing and riggings—magical and perfect, just as she’d imagined since she was a little girl.
Fading red sunlight gleamed off of Bill’s shining armor as he got down from his majestic steed. He led it up the plank to the ship.
“What are you doing? You can’t bring your horse on this long cruise. We talked about this,” she said.
“I can’t just leave him behind.”
She had to admit, Bill did look magnificent on his horse. That was wha
t had first drawn her to him. “But there’s nowhere for him to run. He’ll be stuck down in the hold. Leave him here with your friends where he can be free.”
Bill’s bright blue eyes narrowed. “He’s coming with us.”
It had been such a beautiful day, and she didn’t want their cruise to begin with a fight. “You’re leaving the armor behind though, right?”
“Quit being so bossy,” he said under his breath as he waved to his friends and family.
Jane’s smile wavered, but she rescued it in time to wave to the crowd. Once they were on the ship, they were swept up in the bustle of the crew and the other travelers. The horse was taken below and Jane and Bill found their room. They ate fabulous meals, made new friends, enjoyed all the ports they visited, and bought so many souvenirs that they had to move into a larger cabin.
One afternoon as Jane sat alone sipping tea on their private deck, she began to add up the days she’d sat on this same deck, drinking her tea alone. They were supposed to be on this cruise together, but Bill spent most of his time with his horse, brushing it, talking to it, and leading it around the hold on short walks.
She decided it was time to confront Bill. It wasn’t as if she had to worry about ruining their cruise now. The fun part seemed long over.
She made her way down to the dark hold of the ship. Voices drew her to a lantern-lit stall. Inside, she found Bill in his armor as always, stroking the nose of his horse as he spoke to it. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to her like that. She missed those quiet times they used to spend alone together, without crowds of friends and a busy schedule to keep up with.
The light of the lantern revealed pits and rust spots in Bill’s armor but it still gleamed in places. Her heart fluttered, thinking of how she’d admired his armor and his horse and his bright blue eyes that had watched her with love. Starting a fight wouldn’t get her want she wanted. He’d just get angry and sullen and spend even more time away from her. There had to be a better way to broach the matter.
