Blue Anesthesia

by Daniel Lidman

“Please,” Chris said. “I insist.”

  Chris moved closer. Axel could now spot certain features on his face. Chris seemed to notice and ducked his stare into the concrete. Axel, still with a little air of joy pumped inside of him, decided to book the appointment. After all, even though Chris Michael seemed a little odd, he could turn into a potential friend. It would be hypocritical of Axel to judge this man based on the few minutes they’ve shared together, when he himself knew how it felt to feel different, out of place. Axel still wanted—and needed—a friend. The show surprised him; it turned out great even though every fiber in his body had said otherwise. Maybe it would be the same with Chris Michael. Maybe, after the appointment, they could keep in contact and have a few beers together.

  “Well, if you insist, I’d be happy to go. Besides, a new tooth sure would be nice.”

  Chris didn’t react to this at first. He stepped backward until Axel couldn’t make out his facial features anymore; until he resembled a blue blanket again. “I’ll be in my office at seven. The first thing that I’ll do is sign your appointment into the system. We’ll have to take some images and run some scans of your teeth before we can mold a new replacement. However, you should have a new one soon enough. And, it’ll be free of charge.”

  Axel’s jaw danced. “Free of charge? Wow, Chris, you’re a pretty standup guy. Hey, thanks a lot, man.”

  “It’s not a problem,” Chris said, still in the dark. “We’re happy to help. Are you awake at ten?”

  “Yeah,” Axel replied. “Why?”

  “I’m coming to pick you up.”

  4

  They drove down a straight road with forest on each side. When they entered the countryside, Axel suspected that Chris worked at some kind luxurious private business, away from town. Axel didn’t mind, for then he wouldn’t have to wait. Axel didn’t have an appetite for waiting in a room, alone with his own thoughts.

  Chris didn’t talk much. Axel had tried to start conversations, but no matter what he said, Chris only muttered a “yes,” or a “no.” For most of the drive, Axel kept his eyes to the side of his own window. Early on, Axel noticed that every time he brought his glance toward Chris, the dentist looked uncomfortable. Chris didn’t say anything to prove this, but his body language clearly showed it. Chris would start scratching his neck, adjust his seating position, and clear his throat, all while his eyes would run laps like a cat attracted to a flashlight. On the rare occasion when Axel did sneak a glance at Chris, he paid little to no attention to the road. Instead, he started up at the sky, as if he hunted birds with his vision. When Axel grew anxious—and somewhat scared—he said the first thing that came to his mind.

  “Forest around these parts seems pretty deep.”

  “Yes,” Chris replied with a steady tone.

  Before Axel could say more, his phone buzzed. Axel suspected that it would be his mom, perhaps congratulating him on finishing the show. To his surprise, however, the caller ID displayed UNKNOWN. Whenever Axel saw an unknown caller try to reach him, he always felt a hint of fear rushing beneath his skin. Thoughts burst with a mush of questions. They all seemed to buzz around his intelligence. Could it be the police? Had there been some kind of accident? Or was Axel overanalyzing, like most of the time? Maybe it’s just some marketer with an accent who wanted to sell him some kind of product. In the span of a few seconds, these thoughts bounced around until instinct answered the call.

  “This is Axel Gardner speaking.”

  “Hello, Mr. Gardner. My name is Chris Michael and I am calling from the dentist’s office about your appointment. You were supposed to show up today at eleven. It’s now eleven-thirty-six.”

  Nonplussed, and without any kind of guidance on how to react, Axel froze. His mind warped to another reality of energy whilst his body stayed behind, a statue of himself. The phone felt warm against his skin, which was pinched with chilled nails of fright. He turned toward the man who he thought had been Chris Michael, but was now someone unknown, just as the caller ID had displayed. Axel stared through him with the eyes of an eagle, despite the unknown man’s obvious discomfort. Axel’s mouth began forming words without any kind of sound. He started mumbling until he couldn’t help but chuckle with sarcasm. When he gathered his sanity, he shoved his hand against his hair, feeling the soft texture slide between his fingers. He exhaled most of the worry he had built up.

  “This has to be some kind of a mistake. I’m with Chris Michael right now—“

  The car breaks slammed. The tires screamed. An unsteady rhythm of smoke invaded the fresh air of the countryside, moving upward in abnormal patterns. Axel flew headfirst into the dashboard. He felt needles of pain pierce into his forehead. When the car stopped, his confused body jumped back into his seat. The seatbelt swung clumsily over him. His hair, which he had held back seconds ago, now hung in front of his eyes, making the blur now cast over the world less noticeable.

  The driver, who was prepared for the break, relaxed his body. He grabbed Axel’s phone, not having to fight for it. He witnessed the degrading strength in Axel try to desperately cling on. The unknown man opened the door on his side, not caring for the car’s beep, suggesting that he should close it. With a rush of excitement, he stepped into the middle of the road, watching for any other cars or people who might investigate. The only sound came from wild birds, singing. His eyes stopped squinting and he smiled whilst looking up at the sky.

  Axel unhooked his seatbelt. His stomach turned with every inch he moved. With a hand shaking from either pain or fear, he grasped the door’s handle and used all the strength left in his body to push it open. As he prepared for his limp body to fall out onto the street, the unknown man grabbed his legs from the other side of the car, sliding him back over the seat. They looked at each other. The unknown man moved his hands around in what looked like some form of physical communication, but when he noticed that Axel was still cursed with black confusion, rage sparked in heatwaves. The unknown man’s eyes grew into large golf balls, making his eyelids seem nonexistent. He shouted not in words, but in sounds. He sounded like an adult with the incomplete vocabulary of a baby. He screamed these sounds with eyes that had visible veins slithering around his pupils. He forced a hysterical laugh, turning his entire face red. His tongue hung from his gaping mouth. It matched the color of his cheeks.

  The car continued to beep as the unknown man drew a grunt and hurried for the trunk. Before Axel could attempt another escape from the vehicle, the unknown man returned with a white rope, holding it stretched out in front of Axel, with a smile. This smile was different from his usual fake smile. For the first time, Axel saw the unknown man’s genuine smile. It sent shivers down his skin, dotting it with goosebumps.

  The unknown man wrapped Axel in the white rope as a spider would wrap their prey in webs of silk. When Axel turned into a white cocoon, the unknown man tied a knot at the back and patted his prey on the shoulder. With ease, Axel’s seatbelt hooked back with a click.

  “Safety,” the unknown man said, expressing genuine concern.

  Axel saw the unknown man run, almost dance, in front of the car, back to his own seat. He slammed the door shut. Before stepping on the gas pedal, he turned off Axel’s phone. Whilst clapping his hands and jumping up and down his seat—a child on an energy drink—he laughed. That laugh seemed real, too. The unknown man started to drive down the road again.

  Axel felt the rope dent into his skin when he applied force. His body turned completely useless. No matter how hard he tried to wiggle or move his hands, he simply couldn’t improve the situation. That was the most difficult part, he thought; doing everything in his power but knowing that it’s not good enough.

  Hey, maybe the depression was right all along.

  A wave of emotion swept over him. He felt his face tingle and worked with all his mental effort to prevent himself from crying in hysteria.

  Axel had no record of time. The weather remained bright. The road remained straight. And the trees rarely changed
their size or shape. He was thrown into a nightmare; a nightmare that looped. His fear kept him from saying anything, anything at all. That terrible image of the unknown man, laughing and screaming words from another world rather than another language, repeated in his mind. In his memory, he saw the unknown man smile over and over again.

  He enjoys himself at the extent of my own suffering.

  He almost whispered his own thought. He recoiled in fear, closing his curious eyes, which begged to see if the unknown man had noticed. He hadn’t.

  When being calm no longer seemed impossible, Axel gathered himself enough to try and say something. Every time he felt the words on the tip of his tongue, his mind rejected them. Axel felt scared beyond belief of what might happen if he even opened his mouth.

  Say something for God’s sake. You have to say something. SAY SOMETHING, GODDAMN IT. SAY SOMETHING—

  “Who are you?” Axel barely felt the words come out of him. They didn’t seem to come from him, but from a distant voice. He trembled on the first word, and now he was afraid that he would have to repeat himself.

  The unknown man seemed to have heard.

  “Chris Michael is my name, sir! Do we have an appointment?”

  Axel gestured in frustration. He let out empty sobs, which were followed by no tears. “Please,” he cried in a useless whisper. He tried to continue, but the words refused to come out.

  “Your feedback is appreciated. If you wish to make something of it, please go to our website and do so under the contact tab.”

  “CUT THE FUCKING SHIT!” Axel broke out into a panic. His breathing turned fast, vibrating as it passed his tongue. In desperation, he moved his body around, ignoring how the rope now felt sharp against him. Axel wailed with his entire being. He was heartbroken, and his mind refused to give him the survival instinct he so desperately craved. Yet Axel struggled. His seatbelt followed his awkward movement. As the cry became barbaric, the car now slowed down, then stopped. The unknown man went out to the trunk. For a few seconds, there was complete silence.

  The trunk gently shut behind him. He heard the shoes of the unknown man echo beneath the car and thought it would be the last sound he ever heard. The door opened with the same gentle touch. The unknown man held a crowbar.

  “DO IT YOU SON OF A BITCH! FUCKING MURDER ME ALREADY THEN, YOU FUCK! YOU THINK—“

  Then everything went black.

  Chapter Four

  Good Blue

  1

  December 17th, 1984.

  Humphrey, a late teenager, sat in a psychiatric emergency room. He wore a blue and black flannel shirt, with a green beanie that separated his harsh lug of brown hair from his eyes. In a casual gander, he looked around the waiting room. In his mind, every time he looked at a person, he asked himself: What animal do they resemble?

  Here in the waiting room, he spotted a kangaroo, a dog, a rat, a pig, and a fish. Oh, and lying next to him on the floor, a hippo. These animals occupied chairs, which surrounded two large tables in the center of the room. Some animals wept alone, and others wept in the comforting arms of a loved one. The ones who wept alone were curled up like shrimp on the small plastic chairs, barely fitting their body. Others didn’t weep at all. The majority of them were keeping themselves busy; some watched the TV mounted on the wall, while others read a magazine. One animal even read a magazine while weeping. Humphrey found that astonishing. He felt comfortable intruding on these animals visually because none of them ever noticed his stare; too troubled with the problems that brought them here in the first place, he assumed.

  Humphrey didn’t sit on a chair. Why bother? His body would be confined to a tiny bit of elevated space. He sat on the floor. The floor had a ton of space. The flooring felt hard against his romp, sure, but he bet it was more comfortable than a tiny piece of plastic. He leaned against one of the walls, which led into a dark and scary corridor where some animals from the waiting room were taken, or sometimes dragged.

  There had been a bunny who didn’t like the way the magazines left by some people on the two tables looked. The magazines were crooked on the table, while the ones in the magazine rack to the side were perfectly aligned. This bothered the bunny. He had to take action. He hoped up and down, scooting across the waiting room, carrying magazines from the tables under his arms with a strange smile on his face. It didn’t take long before the nurses in blue uniforms came to ask him to calm down.

  “This is an environment where people need to relax,” they said.

  The bunny didn’t listen. Eventually, the doctors in white uniforms arrived, dragging the bunny away into that dark and scary corridor. The bunny cried. As they went down the corridor, darkness came over the bunny, starting from head to toe. It looked like the darkness devoured the bunny.

  “How could anyone want to live in a world where things are crooked?” The bunny whimpered. The sounds of his mouth and wet snout became more suppressed by each second until they turned nonexistent. Down the throat of the corridor, nothing could be seen except for the white uniforms, resembling shiny teeth of a hideous monster grinning in the dark.

  Another incident occurred an hour or two later. The hippo had been disturbed by a bowl of fruit, which sat in the middle of a table. The hippo wore red pajamas pants with penguins imprinted on them, and a gray shirt that only covered half of his gut. He had been sleeping on the floor, farther down the corridor from Humphrey, when he woke up like someone who wakes up startled from their alarm clock. He held his face high as he walked toward the bowl. He picked up a pear and placed it with gentle touch against his ear.

  “Hello? Who is this?”

  There seemed to have been no answer on the other end of the magical fruit line. This had made the hippo aggravated. The hippo went back to bed. A few minutes later, the fruits called once more. This went on three times. After each session with his fruity friends, the hippo grew more and more frustrated. Humphrey remembered that hippos usually got along better with grass.

  “WHO IS THIS?” The hippo eventually screamed with a red face, matching his pajamas pants. “WHY DO YOU KEEP CALLING ME? WHAT DO YOU WANT? WHAT DO YOU WANT?” His voice cracked in pitch on the last word.

  The white uniforms also dragged the hippo into the jaws of that dark corridor. But the hippo didn’t scream out of fear like the bunny had; he screamed out of confusion, yelling at the two doctors in white that he had to answer the phone, someone was calling him.

  Nurses in blue uniforms greeted Humphrey with a comforting smile every time they walked past him. Sometimes they would even stop in their walk, kneel down in front of him, and ask if there’s anything they can do for him. They made facial expressions, actually smiling. They never hid behind the mask of psychiatry, which the doctors in white uniforms never seemed to take off. Another nurse in blue painted a warm smile at Humphrey as she walked past, carrying her coffee.

  She smiled at me! She must like me.

  A doctor in white walked past him now. No warm smile. Not even a warm cup of coffee. A blank expression, carrying white paper, which was probably cold; just like the doctor and his chilly uniform.

  O’ boy, here comes the white uniform who thinks he knows better and thinks he has the right to make major decisions for these people based on a one-hour conversation. He doesn’t like me. That’s okay, though, because I hate him.

  This is how Humphrey spent the rest of his time waiting, observing. The clock counted the seconds, which felt like hours. People left and people arrived into a world that society as a whole didn’t understand. Mean doctors in white paroled the hall, grasping journals and information about everyone around them. Good nurses in blue offered their warm smiles and hearty assistance.

  Once the doctor called Humphrey’s name, he went into an isolated room with huge windows that teased with the outside world. Take a good, hard look at it, a voice in his head said. Once you’ve been in here, the world on the outside will never be the same. The inhabitants of the outside will forever judge you. You don’t get to
decide what’s normal and what’s not. They do. The ones dressed in white.

  Conversations with doctors always felt the same. They wanted to get rid of him as fast as possible and start working on their next patient. Their talk was bland, without emotion. They offered the occasional smile, but it was far from warm and greeting. Humphrey often wondered if the doctor in front of him graduated with his degree because of a burning passion for helping others, or because of the respect, authority, and money involved with the job as a doctor. It was usually easy to tell. That dilemma could be noticed in those false smiles.

  In the doctor’s room, Humphrey’s leg seemed to have a heart of its own, pumping up and down in rapid haste as he stared at the floor, anxious.

  The doctor had his legs crossed. He sat arched back on a leather chair. “You’re here because you tried to commit suicide, correct?”

  Humphrey’s gaze trailed upward toward the doctor’s eyes.

  Oh my God. It’s a llama.

  “What should we do with you, young man?” The doctor asked.

  Humphrey stared into those cold eyes where the white flesh surrounding the pupil seemed to be the pupil itself.

  “If I let you leave with some medication, would you try taking your life again?”

  I bet the pills would be white.

  The doctor seemed stunned and held his bottom lip between his front teeth. His head remained still with eyes looking upward. He took off on the wheels of his chair toward the desk by the window. He read the screen on his computer, head resting against his arm.

  How unprofessional.

  The doctor cleared his throat and played vocals again. “It—uh—it says here that you have trouble with verbal communication. However, it does not say that you are unable to communicate at all.” He turned his head toward Humphrey, staring at him over the top of his glasses, which sat neatly on the ridge of his nose.

  Humphrey filled his cheeks with frustrated air and exhaled, preparing for the doctor to raise his eyebrows.