Olivetti: Illumination

by Tamilore Odimayo

  “Tell me that when you lose your only son!” He said as he walked out of the room in absolute disgust.

  Beatrice gazed at her little daughter, Sara as she tucked her into bed.

  “Goodnight mommy,” Sara said. “Night sweetie,” Beatrice replied as she stood up and headed for the door.

  “When is daddy coming home?” Sara said before her mother could leave. Beatrice sighed then ruminated on a response.

  “I don’t know Sara – daddy’s going through a hard time because of….” Beatrice said then stopped.

  “Because of Tom’s death?” Sara asked, innocently. “Yes Sara. He just needs some time to heal – go to bed, you have school tomorrow,” Beatrice said, shutting the door behind her before Sara could ask any more questions. She walked downstairs to the kitchen with the sole intent to fix herself a cup of tea. No one was supposed to be indoors. The guards had finished their daily rounds inside and were all busy protecting the compound.

  She opened the top cabinet where the tea bags were then paused. She sighed. She was in pain. Her anxiety levels were overloaded. Thoughts of Walter and Catherine together, flowed through her mind and irritated her greatly. She slammed the cabinet shut then walked to the wine cellar in the basement. She didn’t bother to turn on the light. The strong scent of wet wood was eminent.

  She ran down the stairs into the dark basement, grabbed a random bottle of wine then raced back upstairs. She took one glance at the bottle – 1999 chardonnay. Not bad for a random selection. She popped the wine bottle open, grabbed a wine glass and poured herself a full cup.

  She gulped the first cup in less than ten seconds, then the second cup, then the third cup. She was losing control of her impulse and she couldn’t help it. The thought of losing Walter to Catherine scared her more. She dropped both the bottle and wine glass on the floor accidentally. She started to cry – the shame was too much. Gossips had been floating around her friend circle that Walter was openly sleeping with Catherine. Her mother made fun of her. Her sisters, who once used to be jealous of her, weren’t anymore.

  “Madam! Are you okay?” Bernard the butler said, in his British accent. Beatrice was startled.

  “I’m – I’m fine!” She said, trying to wipe her tears and clean the mess at the same time. She knelt down, trying to clean up the mess, in her morbid state of euphoria.

  “I’ll handle it madam!” Bernard said, trying to take over from where she left off.

  “It’s my mess, I said I’ll handle it!” Beatrice yelled.

  “It’s okay madam,” Bernard said. He grabbed her by the arm then lifted her up to a standing position. He knew the pain she was in. He knew the pain the entire family was in. Nothing had been the same since Tom’s death.

  Beatrice wiped her tears, still shaken by her thoughts.

  She was very vulnerable at that point. “Oh Bernard! You’re the one consistent…” She said then stopped.

  “No madam! All you need is a goodnight sleep and you’ll feel better,” Bernard said, trying to stop her before she said anything she would regret later on.

  “A real gentleman,” Beatrice said as she hugged him. All she needed was someone to embrace her and tell her everything would be okay. Bernard was in an awkward state. Both were holding hands. He didn’t know how to shove her off gently.

  Just then, he heard footsteps.

  Walter Olivetti cleared his throat. “So this is what you two have been up to in my own house?”

  Doctors and Nurses came in and out of the room like confused insects on a pile of sugar cookies. They had never seen results like that before. Patient X’s response to stimuli was above anything they had ever seen.

  Patient X sat up on his bed. He could feel each and every organ working in his body, unlike before. He could feel his blood flow through his veins like electric currents in a wire. His nose could suddenly smell every single detail within what felt like a mile radius. His awareness of the distance baffled him.

  His eyes gave him scrupulous images of the room he was in; the white walls, the doctors walking in and out, the beeping machines going haywire, the flat screen television on the other side of the room and everything in the other rooms.

  He could hear people speak, but their lips weren’t moving. He was confused. He remained seated like he was told while they ran their tests. He was anxious to get up and see the world – the little energy particles of possibilities –the tiny dust that no one else in the room seemed to be paying attention to. He could see through the walls. It felt like his brain was consciously separating the particles of the brick walls to make it more visible.

  Just then, a silver haired man in a grey suit walked in. Everyone in the room scampered like cockroaches. The voices suddenly became silent. Then the door closed behind them. He was alone in the room with an unknown man who looked dignified enough to be a sophisticated and well respected leader. The aura and energy surrounding the man was incredible – he exhumed so much power.

  Patient X watched the silver haired man in admiration. The silver haired man wasn’t like the other doctors and nurses. He could see the difference in their molecular structures. His energy particles had distinct character. The silver haired man remained standing, waiting for Patient X to finish his mini assessment. He then cleared his throat.

  “My name is Frederick! People call me Freddy,” the man said. Patient X nodded.

  “You can comprehend language, right?” Freddy asked.

  “Yes,” patient X replied. It was the first time Patient X heard his own voice.

  “Good!” Freddy said with a proud smile on his face.

  “So you don’t recognize me?” Freddy asked. Patient X shook his head.

  “No. should I?” Patient X responded. Freddy smiled.

  “Do you know who you are?” Freddy asked.

  “No I don’t,” he replied.

  “Do you know why you are here?” Freddy asked.

  “No I don’t,” he responded flatly again.

  “Do you know how you got here?”

  “No I don’t,” Patient X said very patiently and gracefully.

  Freddy nodded as if thinking.

  “What’s your name?” Freddy asked authoritatively.

  “I don’t know,” Patient X replied.

  “Yes you do! What’s the first name that comes to your mind?” Freddy asked authoritatively again. Patient X paused then went into a quick deep trance as if sifting through a pile of files in his head, but all was blank. All the files had nothing on it. Nothing came up.

  “I still don’t know,” Patient X replied.

  “Okay then, what will you like me to call you?” Freddy asked.

  “A name isn’t necessary – however Freddy, I’m curious as to why we both have similar molecular structures. We are both different from the people who just walked out of this room. It’s like we are related or something…” Patient X said flatly. Freddy laughed.

  “Yes! we are related! That I can’t deny. Right now, it is important you know your name – it is important you remember,” Freddy said, trying to get back to his main task.

  “Your voice is similar to the voice I heard earlier, what did you mean when you said ‘let’s keep it that way’ right before I woke up,” Patient X asked, going off track again.

  “It’s good that your memories are starting from a clean slate – and it’s also good you can hear five rooms away,” Freddy said, still smiling. He was replying right away as if he knew what the question was or would be. There was a long silence. Patient X wondered what he meant by ‘hearing five rooms away’.

  “Your name is Tom – Thomas Olivetti. You nearly died in a plane crash. Actually, you did die for a couple of minutes, but you were revived by people who work with me,” Freddy replied.

  Tom remained silent. He tried to put the pieces together in his head, but it was all fogged up with the same annoying screeching sound he had heard before.

  “My name is Tom,” Tom said as he got up from the bed slowly. He f
elt his legs on the floor for the first time since he woke up. He stood six feet and two inches tall. His hair had grown incredibly long during his coma.

  “My name is Tom,” Tom said again, walking around the room, fascinated by the mechanics of his legs.

  “Why do I feel that being me right now is strange?” Tom asked.

  “That’s because you have technically been reborn – before your plane crash, you were a basic human: you ate, you slept, you moved and you destroyed. You roamed around the earth without a pint of knowledge of how the universe works. During your ‘accident’, one of the plane parts hit your head leaving you in an amnesiac state – you seem to have lost all your significant memories. However, you can still access that memory if you try…” Freddy said then waited for it all to sink in.

  “Pause! So what do you mean by ‘I was a basic human’? What am I now?” Tom asked.

  “You are beyond anything human– even beyond our kind,”

  “What do you mean by ‘our kind’?” Tom asked abruptly.

  “You are a member of the species – homo supreme,”

  4

  Present day

  Walter gazed at his wife distastefully. He didn’t know what to think after walking in on his wife embracing his Butler.

  “This is just ridiculous. I don’t even know what to say,” Walter said, pacing around the room like someone who was about to stab something.

  “Oh please it was just a hug, get over it!” Beatrice replied maliciously.

  “Just a hug? Is there even any reasonable explanation for hugging your Butler? I mean, if it was the maids, I’d understand. Damn it! What next? You’re going to start ‘hugging’ your gardeners?” Walter said in disgust.

  “Don’t make this about me, Walt! You are barely home anymore. You don’t pick up my calls. When you do come home, you lock yourself in your study and drink yourself to sleep,”

  “And that gives you an excuse to open your legs to the butler?” Walter asked plainly. Beatrice slapped him on the face.

  “How dare you!?” she replied, panting furiously. Walter stood there half furious and half defeated. He knew he was wrong for saying that to his wife, at the same time he was upset she would stoop so low to confide with the Butler.

  “You think I don’t know where you spend your nights?” she added. “You can’t even do me the courtesy of hiding your tracks. Everyone knows Walt! Everyone! I can’t even go to events I usually go because I’m the talk of the town,” she added again.

  Walter stepped back with his hand on his cheek. The cold realization of his behavior began to set in.

  “You think I don’t know it’s Catherine? – Gosh Walt! Our son dies and you turn into a monster?” Beatrice said, almost in tears. Walter sat down on the bed like a zombie. He stared at the floor blankly.

  “He was my son too! I don’t care if he was adopted! I don’t care if he was your biological child and I don’t care about being lied to all those years! He was my son and I loved him as much as our other children!” Beatrice yelled. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. Walter didn’t respond.

  “Reply me Walt! I’m frustrated! I’m tired of this!” Beatrice yelled out loud. Walter stood up and walked up to his wife. He could barely gaze into her eyes. The guilt was overwhelming. He had become a reckless narcissist even though everyone else was hurting as much as he was.

  “Does she make you feel better?” Beatrice asked quietly. Walter still didn’t respond. His eyes were still fixed on hers.

  “So she does make you feel better,” Beatrice said with a voice of defeat.

  “I’m sorry. Being with her reminds me of Tom a lot – it eases the pain,” Walter replied honestly. Beatrice scoffed. She turned away from him. There was deep sincerity in Walter’s statement. He wasn’t bluffing. It didn’t feel like Walter was going through a grieving phase. She always knew the day would come when Walter would go back to his true love. She buried her head in her palms. Anger, frustration and pain flowed through her mind. The pain she was feeling was unimaginable and she knew it will only get worse. She wiped her tears then faced him.

  She sighed. “I want a divorce,” She said flatly while walking away, leaving Walter in the room alone and dumbfounded.

  Tom was standing in his room, swamped with thoughts from his conversation with Freddy. His mind felt restricted. He didn’t know who he was before he woke up. He tried to break through his past memories, but couldn’t. The information Freddy gave him wasn’t helping either. He didn’t know who he was or what he was, all he knew was that for some reason, he felt he was better than before. His eyes felt like it had never seen before, he could hear everything going on miles away, his sense of smell was heightened, the blood flowing through his veins made his flesh feel invincible.

  Just then, an Arab man walked into Tom’s room. He looked like he was in his mid-thirties and had a classy look of sophistication. He was wearing a white overcoat with a casual outfit beneath. He had a notepad, a pen and a stethoscope. His shoes were polished brown and so was his belt. His simplicity enhanced his character.

  He gazed at Tom with awe as if observing a renowned scientific discovery. Tom gazed at him in return, observing the countenance of the man and profiling him based on the energy surrounding him.

  “Tom Olivetti,” the Arab man said as if reciting a poem.

  “So when am I going to be let out of this room?” Tom said like a little kid anticipating recess at school.

  “My name is Dr. Sahib Patel,” the man said in a strong British accent, totally ignoring Tom’s question. His accent threw Tom off.

  “Shocked?” Doctor Patel asked in humor.

  “How’d you know?” Tom replied.

  “I don’t need to use my gifts to figure that out,” Doctor Patel said, smiling.

  “Your gifts? You are like me?”

  “Yes Tom! You know that!” Doctor Patel replied authoritatively. Tom observed the man and realized that they were somewhat similar. The man smiled a smile of confirmation.

  “Like I said, my name is Doctor Patel and I’ll be your teacher,” Doctor Patel said, walking towards the door. He gestured to Tom to follow.

  “Teach me what?” Tom asked, walking side by side with Doctor Patel as they went past the doorway. They walked outside the door and stepped into the long hallway. Everything suddenly became louder. The sounds became clearer, but it was all confusing. He could hear the sound of computer keyboards, the sound of scientists talking, he could hear the sound of chemicals, and he could even hear the sound of the cars driving on the street even though he knew he was more than ten miles away from the nearest street.

  “It’ll pass! You need to learn to focus on what you want to hear,” Doctor Patel said as he observed Tom’s distress.

  “How come it wasn’t this loud in the room I was in before?” Tom asked.

  “The room you were in before was designed to be sound proof for our ears. I was surprised to find out that you could hear the conversation Freddy and I were having,” Doctor Patel replied.

  Tom tried to respond, but the noise became louder and increased as he walked further away from the room he was initially in. He grunted in pain. He placed his hands over his ears then curled into a fetal position, almost catatonic.

  “Relax Tom! Focus on what you want to hear – imagine spotting a pretty girl from a crowd of people. Focus!” Doctor Patel said. He knew exactly how to respond to Tom. Tom grunted in pain again as he tried to channel all his energy on Doctor Patel’s voice.

  Suddenly, it felt like the volume of the other noises were turned down and the volume of Doctor Patel’s voice increased. Tom released his hands from his ears reluctantly. Everything was semi normal and the sounds his brain was receiving became serene. He panted furiously like a dog that had just finished chasing a stick.

  “Relax, Tom! I will teach you how to control these new abilities you’re having,” Doctor Patel said. Two huge men wearing white scrubs suddenly appeared at the other end of the hallway. Tom
gazed at the men then gazed at Doctor Patel. He could tell they perceived him as a threat. He adjusted himself, stood upright then cleared his throat.

  “I’m okay! Call off your men!” Tom replied. Doctor Patel nodded and the men walked away. Tom scoffed.

  “Why are they here anyway?” Tom added.

  Doctor Patel sighed. “The slightest misuse of your gifts and we might all be dead,”

  Tom chuckled, “If that’s true, I don’t think two men can stop me.” Doctor Patel smiled. He walked ahead.

  “I never thought of it that way Tom. That’s a good point, but they’re trained to take you down before you even think of using your abilities,” Doctor Patel said in a more serious and sincere tone. It almost felt like a threat.

  Four black Chevrolet SUVs were parked side by side in a car junk yard. Piles of cars were stacked on every corner of the yard, making it impossible for any FBI agent to listen or observe their conversations.

  Five cars drove back to back, into the yard. They trailed a pile of dust behind them. The cars stopped. Visibility increased as the yellow dust settled to the ground. A minute later, a Mexican man came out from the first car in front of the convoy of cars. He was wearing white trousers, a sweater and snake skinned shoes. The man removed his shades then walked right towards the center of the yard. Just then, Don Olivetti’s men came out – all dressed in black suits.

  “The boss wants to speak to Don Olivetti, alone,” the Mexican man yelled across the yard. Seconds later, Don Olivetti walked out of the car, dressed in a sharp blue suit, white shirt and shiny black shoes. At the other end of the yard, Don Sanchez walked out of the car in the middle, dressed in a white suit and a white hat. He had his shades on to shield his eyes from the dust.

  The first Mexican man walked back towards the car and both Don Olivetti and Don Sanchez walked to the center. The whole yard was tense. Everyone was alert for any signs of enemies and any signs of threat.