Black Matter

by G D Parker

  Copyright © 2018 Gareth Parker

  The right of Gareth Parker to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or transmitted into any retrieval system, in any form, or by and means (electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design copyright © Gareth Parker

  ISBN: 9781731038012

  Imprint: Independently published

  BLACK MATTER

  PARKER

  1

  The medical centre made Tommy feel anxious, fearful, yet excited. These emotions flowed through his veins at the idea of a new generation medical implant designed to increase the wellbeing of mankind. The reception area of the medical centre was pure white with shiny white floor tiles and white leather sofas, and a sweet perfume filled the air. He walked precariously towards a large white reception desk, becoming increasingly nervous, but he was then greeted by a calming, beautiful woman with long dark hair, piercing green eyes and a smile that almost left him speechless – he almost forgot for a moment why he was there.

  ‘H, hi, I’m here for my IPEA procedure,’ he said with a stutter, mesmerised by her beauty.

  ‘No problem, sir. Please confirm your name and date of birth?’ Her voice was soft and clear with precise pronunciation.

  ‘Tommy McGregor, tenth of November nineteen eighty-eight’.

  ‘Thank you, Mr McGregor. Please take a seat.’ Using her hand, she gestured him towards the waiting area.

  ‘Thank you, err...’ He looked at her name tag on her prominent chest. ‘Katrina,’ he said, feeling almost proud of himself, expressed by a slight smile from the corner of his mouth.

  Tommy turned and sat himself on a white leather sofa that squeaked as he sat, then glanced around the area. The place was huge, and the ceiling must have been at least twenty feet high, which echoed voices and shone bright interchanging coloured LED lighting, which filled the large open space. There was a TV screen hung on the wall, which played an advert he recognised for the IPEA.

  I.P.E.A

  Intra-body Profiling Examination Application

  The IPEA was developed by a professor called Tammy Bezuidenhout from Germany. She created a microscopic implant that attaches itself to the central nervous system. A neurological smart injection directly into the brain collects data from every single cell in the body and transfers this information back to the implant. It then communicates this data to an Android or Apple OS via Bluetooth technology. This information is analysed by the application and provides the user with anything they need to know about their body – A breakthrough in medical science.

  Authorised by –

  Medicines and Healthcare Products Regulatory Agency

  After a short wait, Tommy heard his name being called;

  ‘Tommy McGregor, please?’

  He looked round and saw a tall man, about twenty-five years old, who he assumed was a doctor, standing holding a clipboard - he looked very formal.

  ‘Yeah, that’s me,’ he announced, holding up his hand like a twelve-year-old in school. He then stood to greet the man.

  ‘Nice to meet you. Please Mr McGregor, follow me,’ said the man, ushering Tommy towards a large and endless corridor.

  Footsteps echoed from the doctor’s shoes hitting the white floor tiles. There were a series of doors which led to the unknown. Tommy’s anxiety came back, causing questions to run through his mind - What if something goes wrong? What if it damages my brain? What if I have an allergic reaction?

  After a minute of walking, the doctor stopped at a door. The sign displayed ‘X19’, which didn’t mean anything to Tommy, but he proceeded to follow the doctor into the room.

  The room was large; the back wall had black glass from floor to ceiling and the wall to the left was full of computer equipment, like something you’d see at the bridge of the Enterprise. In the centre of the room was a large white chair, like the type you would find in a dentist’s surgery, with a large device above it integrated into the ceiling, which looked very precarious.

  ‘Please, Mr McGregor, take a seat and make yourself comfortable. You’re going to be here a while.’

  Tommy simply nodded and sat down in the chair. He looked up at the contraption that was embedded into the ceiling, wondering what on earth it was. It looked like a network of cameras or something, and God knows what else. Still feeling anxious, he turned to speak to the doctor.

  ‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing with his finger trembling.

  ‘I’m not a doctor, Mr McGregor. I’m a medical technologist. My job is to ensure this procedure goes smoothly and to abolish any problems that might occur. You have been made aware of the risks, haven’t you, sir?’

  ‘Well, yeah sort of, but I’m not worried about them!’ his voice wobbled again – he was clearly nervous.

  ‘It’s important that you understand the risks and side effects of the ECoG binding compound.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ sweat beaded on his forehead.

  ‘Look, Mr McGregor, if your body rejects this binding compound, it can affect your central nervous system, which can cause blindness, loss of hearing and smell, and can obstruct your ability to walk or manoeuvre properly, all of which are irreversible. However, studies have shown the odds of rejection are one in sixty-seven million so there’s more chance of winning the lottery than your body rejecting the compound, but it’s still very important you are aware of the risks before signing the wavier.’

  He then handed him a leaflet containing all the information. Tommy skimmed through quickly and then returned it.

  ‘Yeah, it’s all good. I’m happy to proceed,’ he said with a non-convincing smile.

  ‘Ok, well empty your pockets, remove any electrical items you may have, and the surgeon will be in shortly to answer any further questions.’

  ‘Great, how long will this take?’ Tommy asked, thinking, he could have asked me to empty my pockets before I sat down.

  ‘It takes 48 hours all in all. You will be asleep in an induced coma for nearly all of it, as we need the brain and all other organs functioning at the lowest possible level. It’s a bit like restarting a computer after an upgrade of software.’

  He looked at Tommy with frustration, ‘IF, Mr McGregor, you had read all the information, you would know’. Tommy returned an ignorant smile.

  There was about a ten-minute wait before the surgeon walked in. He was tall, grey and very skinny, and he was wearing a long white coat – his shoes were shiny to military standard.

  ‘Mr McGregor, welcome to our facility. My name is Dr Bowen. I’ll be by your side along with my technician, Mr Ellis.’ His voice was deep, and he was very well-spoken.

  ‘Dr Bowen, one question; will this hurt?’ Tommy asked, with a gaze like a rabbit in headlights. ‘I’m not a- wimp or anything, I’m just wondering,’ Tommy then shrugged his shoulders to hide his concerns.

  Dr Bowen smiled, ‘We get asked that a lot, Mr McGregor. I’d be lying if I said there’d be no discomfort, but you shouldn’t experience any considerable amount of pain. The most you’d experience is a headache and a slight soreness around the new implant - all being well.’

  Dr Bowen handed Tommy a clipboard. It contained a twelve-page docu
ment explaining all the ins and outs of the procedure, which Tommy needed to confirm that he accepted the risks and side effects. Dr Bowen was then required to examine Tommy and to complete a review of Tommy’s medical records, to ensure he was of sound mind before proceeding with the procedure. After forty-five minutes, Dr Bowen was ready to begin.

  ‘Ok Tommy, I would like you to take this robe, go behind the screen over there and return with nothing on but the robe.’

  The robe was a classic standard green medical robe with the print “IPEA tm X19” displayed on the back in bold black letters. It smelled medical with a strong smell of Dettol.

  Tommy went behind the screen, stripped down to his birthday suit and couldn’t help noticing that his little man had shrivelled to the size of a peanut. Must be the fear, he thought to himself, whilst placing the robe over his head and tying it off at the back.

  He then walked back to the chair. The floor felt cold beneath his bare feet. All this bloody money and they can’t even provide slippers.

  ‘Please, Mr McGregor, sit and relax. Our technical nurse will be along shortly to put an IV drip in your arm, hook you up to this little machine here,’ the surgeon tapped it with his long bony fingers, ‘so we can keep an eye on what’s going on inside you.’

  Tommy didn’t say anything, he just sat right back in the chair, shook off his arms and took a nice deep breath. Dr Bowen then reclined the chair back so that Tommy was now completely horizontal. Tommy closed his eyes, trying to relax. Mixed emotions flowed through him; nerves, excitement, apprehension – he’d never been under before.

  The door opened and in walked the technical nurse, dressed in a long white coat, flat shoes, with her blonde hair tied back and, like the receptionist, she had a massive smile on her face with a beautiful set of teeth. It was like they only recruited a certain type of woman - hot!

  ‘Mr McGregor, my name is Billie. I need you to lift up your robe, so I can put in this catheter. Is that ok?’ She was holding up a thin plastic tube in a gloved hand.

  Tommy nodded and closed his eyes. Lifting up his robe, he felt an uncomfortable burning sensation for a few moments and a strong urge to pee.

  ‘All done, sir! Now, I need to place this on your finger and these pads on your head.’

  Tommy felt extremely anxious at this stage, wondering what was to come?

  Billie gently put a line into Tommy’s arm. It was just a scratch, but Tommy hated needles and felt a little -queasy for a moment. He was quickly distracted by her smile; she smelled so good, and her skin was fresh and clear. He couldn’t help but fancy her, even though he had a girlfriend, Taylor, at home, who had no idea where he was.

  Dr Bowen then caught Tommy’s attention as he started to explain the procedure.

  ‘So, Tommy, we need to put you into a deep state of unconsciousness by using a barbiturate drug, which will put you into a temporary barb coma. This is to protect your brain whilst we administer the ECoG compound.’ He smiled at Tommy, ‘Relax, we’ve done this a thousand times.’

  Tommy gave a nervous grin, and Dr Bowen proceeded to administer anaesthesia whilst telling Tommy to count to ten.

  ‘One, two, three...’ Tommy’s eyes felt heavy and they slowly closed. He tried to fight it, tried to keep his eyes open, they were too heavy, then moments later he was in total anaesthesia.

  As he slowly regained a form of consciousness from the induced coma, he experienced a moment of panic. He could only hear, but was unable to move. His instant thought was that he would be trapped in his sub-conscious mind for eternity. He could hear voices around him talking - but the words were all muffled. He could feel the temperature of the room and the sweat that had accumulated in the small of his back as he lay in the medical bed. He felt uncomfortable, as there was a need to scratch an irritating itch, that tormented him for what felt like hours with no ability to relieve the torment. He felt compelled to shout out for someone, to remind them he was there, so they could reassure him that everything was ok. But, no muscle would even twitch, apart from his heart, that pounded like a prisoner on the door to their cell. His breathing was slow and controlled, and he could hear the air whistling through the tubes that were working as a conduit from his lungs to the outside world.

  Why? he thought to himself, why did I do this? I knew the risks involved, and I still went through with it. What a waste. Taylor is going to go insane! If this is my life, I hope it ends sooner rather than later.

  The negativity of his thoughts snowballed. This increased his heart rate, which he could simultaneously hear with the beeping and pulsing on a machine that was nearby. He could cry with no tears or any sign of physical emotion. On the inside he was screaming with fear.

  There was a lot of muffled talking, then a sudden sharp pain that provided a sense of coldness, which quickly spread up his left arm and around his shoulder. There was a slight twitch in his fingers and his toes, and he could then move his jaw, which ached like he’d just done ten rounds with David Haye. He was able to open his eyes. His vision began to come back with a blur, as though there was glue spread across his eyeballs. He was able to rub them, which created images of a well-dressed doctor looking over him.

  ‘He’s coming round; keep the oxygen going. There we go, Mr McGregor. How are you feeling?’

  Dr Bowen’s voice was almost robotic; clear with perfect pronunciation.

  ‘Like shit, excuse my French,’ said Tommy. His voice was husky, his mouth was bone dry, and he gasped for water.

  ‘Well, that’s expected, Mr McGregor. You’ve been in a coma for two days.’

  He stood up straight and folded his arms with a comforting smile on his face.

  ‘The procedure went exceptionally well, although your blood pressure dropped significantly, so we’ll need to keep you in for a few days just to make sure.’

  ‘Well, it didn’t go exceptionally well then! I’ve got to go home! What day is it?’ Tommy became agitated.

  Dr Bowen was taken aback with the attitude he was receiving from Tommy.

  ‘It’s Monday the eighth of January two thousand and eighteen, Mr McGregor. We would like to keep you in under observation - you’ve had an IPEA implantation along with a neurological smart injection. This can have an impact on your central nervous system. It’s extremely important we monitor you for a few days.’

  His voice was stern. Dr Bowen made it clear that Tommy was going nowhere.

  ‘I understand that! The four-hour interrogation made sure I was aware of everything to be expected prior to the procedure, but I’ve got to go. My girlfriend has no idea where I am, and you don’t know what she’s like!’ Tommy sat up with a long grunt - there was aggression in his movements.

  His girlfriend, Taylor, was not of complete sound mind, which caused Tommy anxiety and made him on edge. He knew she would instantly think Tommy was with another girl, rather than in a medical centre having an intrusive procedure carried out. He had lied to her though; he told her he was on a training course with work. He didn’t want her to know about this procedure, knowing full well she’d be against it – like any caring partner.

  Tommy was a well-built man, standing at five foot eleven inches tall. He was handsome with big brown eyes and short dark hair.

  He burst through the front door to his apartment at 0030 hours on the Wednesday morning. He was relieved to finally be back home in his apartment, which he shared with his “beloved” Taylor.

  ‘Taylor, you in?’ he asked, as he briskly searched the apartment, but no one was home. He then pulled out his mobile and gave her a call.

  Surprisingly, after one ring, she answered – it was as though she had been waiting for his call.

  ‘Where the fuck have you been?’ said Taylor. She was angry and needed answers.

  ‘Told you, babe, I had to go away on a training course for work. I just got home now. I’m knackered. Where are you?’ His voice wobbled, he was never a good liar.

  ‘Bull!’ she shouted. ‘You’ve been with that girl from the gy
m, Emily! Do not fucking lie to me, Tommy McGregor!’

  He could almost feel her screaming breath through the phone as she yelled at him.

  ‘Ok, chill…’ He was confused by her allegations. Emily? ‘I’ve told you, I’ve been on a training course with work. I told you weeks ago. We even said goodbye to each other on Wednesday morning last week as I left.’

  He was very confused how she came to the conclusion he was with another woman - he did know of an Emily, but certainly wasn't with her.

  ‘Yeah, I know, it was all bullshit. It’s a bit of a coincidence that when you’re away, she’s away too.’ Taylor paused. ‘I checked!’ There was a little shame in her tone.

  ‘What do you mean, you checked?’ Tommy was completely bedazzled. Yeah, he was lying, but not about that.

  ‘Her Facebook... said she was looking forward to a secret escape with a lover, with a shit load of winking emojis, on the same day you went away?’

  ‘Ahh, right... ok, so Mystic Meg worked it all out from that, bravo!’ He hung up before Taylor had a chance to say anything else.

  Taylor was a very insecure twenty-two-year-old. She was petit, brunette and cute, but God she had the worst fiery attitude. There was a huge chip permanently on her shoulder, as though she thought the world owed her something. That aside, Taylor was extremely intelligent and worked for a top computer firm as an assistant, but her employers could see huge potential.

  Tommy and Taylor had been together for two years and had moved in together after six months. Being thirty himself, Tommy always thought Taylor was a little too young for him, along with her irrational behaviour and the constant jumping to conclusions – she actually drove him mad.

  It had crossed his mind many times about leaving her, but when she was happy and things were great, they had a lot of fun together. Whenever they were going through a dodgy moment and Tommy was thinking about leaving her, he held on to those moments with the hope that one day, when she actually grew up, things would change – Tommy didn’t give up on things easily.