Assimilation

by James Stryker

  I wish I could find subcontractors this sharp.

  “Any anxiety attacks?”

  “No, just quiet, like an angel. But, honey, she has a lot she wants to say and can’t. What would upset her about not being able to talk to me? She doesn’t know me from Adam.”

  It was as if the nurses read his mind. He wasn’t stupid; he saw the patterns.

  Every time I touch her, those machines erupt.

  “Did she look unhappy?” he’d ask.

  “She looked tired, but pay no mind to it, Mr. Keller. If you were stuck in a bed, unable to move so much as your finger, wouldn’t you look angry too?”

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  Robert would feel better for a while. He’d decide to wait and see. And trust that CryoLife was right, and his gut feeling was wrong.

  But after Natalie’s breakdown from Simon’s card, his worry reached an intensity that drove him directly to Dr. Brigman. The rapid improvements she’d been making had stopped and she no longer seemed present in her body. When he dropped a glass in the room and she didn’t turn her head to the noise, his patience crumbled. He had to talk to Brigman. Privately. In his office.

  “I don’t think she’s sleeping. Did you change her medication?”

  “We stopped the sedation. She needs to acclimate to normal sleep, as we discussed.”

  “Maybe it’s too soon. She’s lethargic. She looks like she’s dying.”

  “Mr. Keller, it’s extremely difficult to re-develop a healthy sleep cycle after being on sleep aids. Give it time.”

  “Can’t you test something, scan something?” Robert asked.

  “I assure you, her care is our highest priority. If anything in the slightest was wrong, alarms all throughout this wing of the building would go off.” The doctor tipped his head slightly, his mouth curved in a gentle smile. “Your wife is attached to more machines than a space shuttle.”

  Robert felt his left eyelid twitch, but he kept his voice level. “Do you think this is funny? I’m telling you, something—”

  “Certainly not.” Brigman pushed back his leather chair and stepped in front of the desk. “Your concerns are important to us, and I appreciate you telling me how you feel.”

  “This isn’t about how I feel. It’s not about me. It’s—”

  “I know, I know.” The soothing, easy tone in the man’s voice made the interruption less irritating. “It’s about your wife. I didn’t mean anything else, or to have upset you.”

  “I’m fine. I just don’t want my wife to suffer unnecessarily. She’s been through enough, and we’re only talking about sleep. If she needs help sleeping in order to continue making progress, maybe you should consider tapering off the medication instead of cutting it all at once.”

  Robert shuffled his feet, somewhat regretting the boldness. However, the question of which medical school Robert had graduated from remained unasked. Brigman’s cold frown reverted to the warm, grandfatherly smile.

  “We don’t want her to suffer either, Mr. Keller, but you have to trust we’re going about her rehabilitation in the right way. Believe me, I understand where you’re coming from, and what you’re thinking.” He put a hand on Robert’s arm. “Here I am, fancy degrees but a perfect stranger to you and Mrs. Keller. You’re more in tune with her than any expert, aren’t you?”

  Robert allowed himself to be nudged toward the door. “I married her when she was only eighteen and haven’t spent a single day apart from her in almost ten years. Until, of course, the accident.” He cleared his throat. “No one knows her like I do.”

  “Absolutely. So let’s do this – you allow us two more days. If she isn’t on schedule by then, we’ll reintroduce the sleeping aids, as you requested.” The man turned the handle and held the door. “Surely you’ll give forty years of medical experience forty-eight hours of leeway.”

  Maybe I’m being irrational. He’s right, Natalie’s not dying. But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something—

  Robert’s eyes had been wandering the office. Certificates hung in gilded glory on the far wall, but the rest were lined by bookshelves, their tiers stocked with thick tomes and various plastic brain models. His thoughts broke off as the doctor removed the room’s only photograph from a shelf.

  “Here’s especially why you can trust me, Mr. Keller.”

  Brigman held out the small framed picture of a boy with light brown hair and a wide smile. He wore an oversized doctor’s coat, complete with stethoscope, and his arms were in the air as if about to hug the photographer.

  Robert returned the boy’s captured smile. “Your grandson? He looks about the same age as our Simon.”

  “No, he’s my son.” Dr. Brigman chuckled. “It’s a common misconception. I only like to think of him as a little boy.” He sighed and replaced the picture on its shelf. “You’ve spent ten years loving your wife. I’ve spent over thirty loving that boy. And he was a patient here.”

  “Was he?”

  “Yes. So I know what you’re going through. It’s awful to see a loved one suffering. And it’s not easy to have some old expert ask you to bear with us. But I promise you, every patient who comes through CryoLife’s doors is family to me. And I’ll continue to give Mrs. Keller the same care I gave to my son.”

  As with the friendly nurses, Brigman had said exactly what Robert needed to hear. He thought of the idiot demonstrators parading outside on the sidewalk.

  See, what this man has done is a gift direct from God. These people understand values and ethics. And priorities. Family above everything else.

  “Thank you.” Robert extended his hand, and the doctor gave it three jovial pumps. “And I hope nothing I’ve said will be taken out of context. I just want to ensure my wife is taken care of and no mistakes are—”

  Brigman dropped Robert’s hand as if the magnetic poles of their palms had reversed. The frosty expression of his face resembled his earlier reaction to Robert’s questioning. “CryoLife doesn’t make mistakes.”

  The lingering intensity of the doctor’s eyes made Robert step back, crossing the threshold into the hallway. But his motion served to break Brigman’s gaze, and instantly the empathetic exterior returned.

  “Two days, Mr. Keller.” He gave his relaxed smile, the satin swagger of his voice erasing the minor slipup. “Your worries are admirable, but unnecessary. You can trust me. Everything will be better than all right. It’ll be perfect. I’d give you nothing less. Like family, remember?”

  Robert nodded.

  “And please, don’t hesitate to stop by again if there’s anything I can assist you with. The pleasure is entirely mine.”

  Before he could answer with another head gesture, Brigman gently shut his office door and the deadbolt slammed into place.

  The doctor’s parting behavior caused Robert to have a restless night – he spent that evening tossing and turning. He closed his eyes, and there was Natalie: trapped in the hospital room, wasting away. Dying. Brigman stood at her IV, his hands folded at the small of his back.

  “Aren’t you going to do anything?” Robert shouted in his dream. “She’s dying! Do something!”

  But the doctor remained motionless with the plastic smile on his face. “There’s nothing to do. Everything’s perfect. Perfect.”

  The color drained from Natalie’s face, her eyes drifting closed. Robert wanted to reach out to Brigman – grab him by his collar and push him forward, force him to save her. But he felt fixed to the spot.

  And then into the dream ran the boy with light brown hair, the ends of the large white coat trailing the vinyl tiles. He was some combination of the doctor’s son and Simon, as he climbed into the bed with Natalie and began shaking her.

  “Mom, wake up. Wake up, Mom.” The Simon-hybrid turned to Robert, his face red with crying. “She’s cold, Dad. She won’t wake up, and she’s cold.”

  Robert continued to be a helpless spectator. He couldn’t make Brigman act. He couldn’t comfort the boy. He couldn’t move to sav
e Natalie himself. And she grew cold. Again. Lifeless. Again. And there could be no bringing her back.

  The nightmare was so real he launched halfway out of bed, sweat running down his face.

  “Dad, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  Simon, prone to night terrors since the car accident, had taken to sleeping in bed with his father. The boy hadn’t only been in the vehicle and walked away unharmed, but he’d also witnessed the beginning of the preservation procedure. Simon had described how the doctor had sunk the scalpel into his mother’s throat. Her blood had gushed over the doctor’s hands, spurting onto his surgical mask. He’d only been six years old.

  “Yes, it’s okay.” Robert tried to calm his breaths as he lay down to stare into the darkness. “Go to sleep.”

  A thin arm curled around his chest.

  “I have them too. I know what it’s like.”

  Despite the unfortunate reality of that statement, Robert felt more peaceful after it was said aloud that he wasn’t alone. He pulled Simon close and spent the night lying awake, petting his son’s hair.

  Upon arriving at the Cryobiotic Treatment Center the next day, his disheveled appearance prompted the nurses to question him instead.

  “Mr. Keller, are you okay? Can we get you anything?”

  “I didn’t sleep well.”

  “You poor man. Let me straighten your tie. You can’t let her see you like that.”

  Robert allowed the knot at his neck to be straightened and pieces of hair to be patted into place. Natalie didn’t care how he looked, but it was nice they thought she did. She’d be upset no matter how straight his tie was.

  “The dear was awake most of the night. She’s sleeping now.”

  “That’s okay.”

  In a way he preferred to be at her bedside when she slept. He didn’t feel the hostility or panic from her, and he could pretend that everything was normal. Her languidness had him missing even the negative interaction though.

  I’d rather you be angry or anxious or whatever you are than be dead. Please don’t be dead.

  But he didn’t think he could take another day of her lying defeated and nearing the edge of death. Thank God she was asleep. It’d help her feel better.

  I can’t give him two days. He watched Natalie’s sleeping face and thought of the dream. If there’s no improvement today, she needs the sleeping aids. I won’t take no for an answer.

  Robert sank into the chair by her bed with a sigh. He pulled a magazine from his bag, opened the cover, and promptly fell asleep.

  *

  He woke when he felt eyes on him.

  “I’m sorry, Nat. I didn’t sleep well.” Robert sat up from where he’d slouched in the chair. “How are you feeling? I’m glad you got some rest.”

  Her lips were closed, and she just stared at him.

  God, I can’t do this. I can’t.

  But then her head rose and, lowering her chin, Natalie moved her eyes toward him.

  “Me?”

  The corners of her mouth curled into a frown. But as she nodded there was something about the way her eyes looked at him – the skin around them not tight in displeasure.

  “You’re worried about me?”

  Another nod. His chest thumped.

  “You don’t need to worry about me.”

  Natalie shook her head.

  Robert wasn’t sure what to do. She’d never tried to communicate concern toward him. Now there was kindness in her eyes. There was the first real sign that his Natalie was in there.

  He raised a hand to her cheek, ready for her to pull away and the machines to howl. Her jaw tightened, but she leaned into his hand. He forgot the tenseness and melted.

  *

  For the rest of the visit the machines had remained quiet. Robert hadn’t been given annoyed looks, and Natalie was engaged in everything he had to say. There were times when he caught a twist of her lips, or the rigidity of her cheek, but he chose not to think about these things.

  So in returning the next day, Robert was intent on keeping positive to continue the promising direction things were headed. He opened the door to her room feeling upbeat.

  “Good morning, Robert,” Natalie said.

  It was clichéd, but after the accident he’d saved her phone messages. He’d kept their voicemail the same and grouped every video of her, including those where she was filming. He would listen to his wife’s light, silvery voice. Despite the reassurance by CryoLife that they’d be reunited he knew there was a chance he’d never hear her again.

  He’d been told that her original body had been so mangled he couldn’t be allowed to view it. So there’d been no goodbye to that either. It’d been a shock to see the new body – his flawless Natalie, even if it was a shell. But then her eyes had opened and he’d watched her progress. If the accident had happened two decades earlier, she’d have been moldering in a grave. But now she was sitting up. And she was talking to him.

  “Good morning, Nat.” He blinked away the tears.

  “Come. In.” She spoke in two separate sentences. “And. Close. The door.”

  He rushed in. He’d light himself on fire if she asked.

  “I’m not. Stupid. I have to concentrate. To get. The words out. I’m not thinking slowly.”

  “I wouldn’t care if you were. You’re alive.” Robert took her hands in his. “You must have so much to say. Talk to me. Tell me how you are, and if there’s anything I can do for you.”

  She hesitated and glanced toward Simon’s card on the side table. It made him smile. This was Natalie. Her first thoughts were for her children.

  “I have things to ask,” she said and he could tell that she was doing her best to speak evenly.

  “Ask anything of me.”

  Natalie stared at the thin blanket covering her lower body. When she looked back at him, the words came in rapid succession.

  “Robert, tell me what happened to me.”

  The accident was a topic he avoided, so he hadn’t mentioned it since she’d woken. Dr. Brigman had read the statement before they opened her eyes, but that was it. There’d been no telling how much she knew. Perhaps she’d been knocked unconscious and knew nothing.

  To wake completely paralyzed, and not know what happened. No wonder you’ve been so upset. I’m so sorry, Nat. I should’ve told you.

  “You were in a car accident. A car crossed the—” Robert stopped as she shook her head.

  “Tell me what they did to me.”

  “You were dead, and they brought you back.”

  “How’d they do it?”

  “They removed your brain and kept it preserved until they rebuilt your body.”

  “But how exactly did they do it?”

  For Natalie this was an odd question. She’d always been queasy about medical things. Besides the needles, she fell apart at the sight of blood.

  On the other hand, Robert had no such hang-ups, and he’d been curious about the procedure. He hadn’t found much on the exact methods and tools CryoLife used, but an image search yielded plenty of gory photographs taken from smart phones. Simon wasn’t exaggerating when he described what he’d witnessed as the doctor cut off his mother’s head.

  Robert had also seen the storage facility once the extraction procedure was over. Row after row of metal canisters, their exteriors frosted and individual temperature gauges reading exactly -162 degrees Fahrenheit. Each container bore a silver plate engraved with a number. He’d been told Natalie was CRYO-03877.

  This is you, Robert had thought. Not your skin, your smile, your beautiful hair … you’re really just a brain. Everyone is.

  The CryoLife staff had assured him this was true, even though he struggled to believe it while walking through the storage facility that day. The essence of Natalie was a 3-pound organ, indistinguishable from the others save for the number they’d assigned her. And she’d wait with these other brains until Robert could afford to free her. For up to five long years CryoLife would hold them in this limbo. If
he was unable to finance the reanimation by then …

  He’d imagined a cryonicist popping the top of canister CRYO-03877 and dumping its contents into a furnace as if it were a piece of trash. Whether his wife was more than just the brain or not, everything would then be over.

  Don’t worry. I’ll bring you back. I promise, Natalie.

  And he had. He’d triumphed as usual, since here she was – not a brain in a metal container. His Natalie was alive—

  “Robert.” Natalie’s voice brought him back to her hospital room, and he realized he’d forgotten what she’d even asked him. “Tell me how they brought me back.”

  “Nat, I’m not a doctor. I’m not sure.”

  “Do you have the pamphlet? And the document I signed? Can you get them for me?”

  “I’ve read them, hon. Don’t worry about it,” Robert said.

  “Do you know what medication they’re giving me?”

  “No, why would I?”

  “Can you find out what it does, and what the side effects are?”

  “Are you not feeling well? Is there a problem?”

  I knew it. I knew there was something wrong that—

  “I want to know what they’re giving me. I have the right to know.”

  As with what he knew of the CryoLife procedure and preservation, Natalie didn’t need her mind cluttered with irrelevant information.

  “I’m sure we’ll discuss everything with Dr. Brigman. Remember he said we’d talk when you could be part of the conversation?”

  She agreed with a small nod.

  “I’ll take care of everything, Nat. You have more important things to concentrate on. Like getting better.”

  After a delay, she nodded again, devoid of emotion. Her resignation to end the topic relieved him, and his heart lit once more.

  “What else do you want to know? Ask me what I can answer.”

  He waited for Natalie to ask about Simon or Michael. Or him. What about their friends, his family, or their jobs? To ask what changes had taken place in the world. But she relaxed into her pillows.

  “There’s nothing else.” They studied each other before she continued. “What magazine did you bring?”