Well, it's been a busier week than I expected! Not in a bad way though.
Whatever it takes They woke him with a head full of memories from other men. No women; he checked several times, making himself sit there in silence and replay memories that were simultaneously brand new and had been with him for most of his life. Lives. He had lives now, too many of them to keep track of, and he’d lived every one or at least it felt like he had. And they all belonged to men; he sat there and gone through the memories, checking. All of them belonged to men. Which made sense, he was sure he could remember Doctor Robert leaning back in his Aeron-knock-off chair and it creaking under his weight. He’d rubbed his stomach, bulging under the white shirt and unbuttoned white coat, and sighed like he’d finished eating, and said, “We maximise for compatibility, Jerome, and after that… well, you said on the form that you wanted as many as possible. So we’ll maximise the maximum. Are you — are you sure you want the maximum?” He could remember nodding, but the strange thing was that he could remember nodding at least eighteen times. Eighteen other men, all compatible with him in some way they’d not explained, had all undergone this procedure and had all wanted to maximise the maximum. And -- and he was sure, he’d checked the memories again and again — none of them, not him, not any of the others, had actually known what they were asking for. “Mr. Dalton, would you sit up a little please?” He lifted himself up slightly and a young woman with brown hair shoved a pillow behind his back, forcing him slightly further forward. It was a firm pillow. He looked at her and memories swam in his head, and he said, “Thank-you Amy,” and she looked at him like she’d seen a ghost. “How do you know my name?” she said, but the memories dragged him down into darkness at the point, and the next thing he knew they were waking him again with a head full of other people’s memories and Amy was gone. “Jerome!” Doctor Robert came into the room and shook his hand heartily. That caused a moment of panic as he couldn’t remember how many hands he had. His brain tried to count and gave up at 65, and only when it gave up did it decide there were only two. They were all his and simultaneously belonged to their original owners as well. It was confusing. “How are you feeling?” “Puzzled,” he answered. “Why did I ask for this again?” “You insisted on it,” said Doctor Robert. He looked around the sterile white hospital room and found a plastic orange chair. “May I sit down?” “Do you need to ask?” Doctor Robert eased himself on to the chair that looked too small for a man of his considerable girth. “You’ve been quite hostile to that in the past,” he said. “You will probably remember soon enough.” Jerome shook his head and wished he hadn’t; memories swirled like flecks in a snow globe. “Not so far,” he said. “Why did I want this? I feel… full.” “You insisted,” said Doctor Robert again. “You said that you wouldn’t have a new procedure carried out on the men under your command if you didn’t test it yourself first. We tried comparing it to dropping the atomic bomb but you didn’t like that much.” That memory surfaced fast, like a submarine-launched missile reaching the water-air barrier. “You said the procedure was necessary,” he said. “And I said—“ “Do whatever it takes,” finished Doctor Robert.
2 comments:
Well, it's been a busier week than I expected! Not in a bad way though.
Whatever it takes
They woke him with a head full of memories from other men. No women; he checked several times, making himself sit there in silence and replay memories that were simultaneously brand new and had been with him for most of his life. Lives. He had lives now, too many of them to keep track of, and he’d lived every one or at least it felt like he had. And they all belonged to men; he sat there and gone through the memories, checking. All of them belonged to men. Which made sense, he was sure he could remember Doctor Robert leaning back in his Aeron-knock-off chair and it creaking under his weight. He’d rubbed his stomach, bulging under the white shirt and unbuttoned white coat, and sighed like he’d finished eating, and said,
“We maximise for compatibility, Jerome, and after that… well, you said on the form that you wanted as many as possible. So we’ll maximise the maximum. Are you — are you sure you want the maximum?”
He could remember nodding, but the strange thing was that he could remember nodding at least eighteen times. Eighteen other men, all compatible with him in some way they’d not explained, had all undergone this procedure and had all wanted to maximise the maximum. And -- and he was sure, he’d checked the memories again and again — none of them, not him, not any of the others, had actually known what they were asking for.
“Mr. Dalton, would you sit up a little please?” He lifted himself up slightly and a young woman with brown hair shoved a pillow behind his back, forcing him slightly further forward. It was a firm pillow. He looked at her and memories swam in his head, and he said, “Thank-you Amy,” and she looked at him like she’d seen a ghost.
“How do you know my name?” she said, but the memories dragged him down into darkness at the point, and the next thing he knew they were waking him again with a head full of other people’s memories and Amy was gone.
“Jerome!” Doctor Robert came into the room and shook his hand heartily. That caused a moment of panic as he couldn’t remember how many hands he had. His brain tried to count and gave up at 65, and only when it gave up did it decide there were only two. They were all his and simultaneously belonged to their original owners as well. It was confusing. “How are you feeling?”
“Puzzled,” he answered. “Why did I ask for this again?”
“You insisted on it,” said Doctor Robert. He looked around the sterile white hospital room and found a plastic orange chair. “May I sit down?”
“Do you need to ask?”
Doctor Robert eased himself on to the chair that looked too small for a man of his considerable girth. “You’ve been quite hostile to that in the past,” he said. “You will probably remember soon enough.”
Jerome shook his head and wished he hadn’t; memories swirled like flecks in a snow globe. “Not so far,” he said. “Why did I want this? I feel… full.”
“You insisted,” said Doctor Robert again. “You said that you wouldn’t have a new procedure carried out on the men under your command if you didn’t test it yourself first. We tried comparing it to dropping the atomic bomb but you didn’t like that much.”
That memory surfaced fast, like a submarine-launched missile reaching the water-air barrier. “You said the procedure was necessary,” he said. “And I said—“
“Do whatever it takes,” finished Doctor Robert.
Greg - I'll take that as a sign that the visit went well then.
Um... more of this. Please? I am fascinated. I'd actually forgotten what the prompt was until you brought it back around at the end there.
Post a Comment