Future Chronicles Special Edition

by Samuel Peralta

  Alex sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. But still, a whole week? Can’t we move it closer?”

  “I have to get the procedure ready, it’s not just like I can flip a switch and kill you this instant.”

  Alex might have laughed if he wasn’t so terrified. “What about Friday then?”

  Dr. Granger flipped through his scheduler. “Ooo, sorry Alex, got a golf tournament on Friday. And, before you ask…” he flipped another page, “Monday’s already booked up.”

  Alex groaned. “You shouldn’t have told me then. You should have just said, ‘see you next week, Alex,’ and I would have gone home happy.”

  “Now Alex, we both know you aren’t happy.” Dr. Granger penciled in the appointment without looking up at his patient.

  No, thought Alex, but I think you are. You get some sick satisfaction from terrorizing me. Bully with a medical license. Pick on the scared kid, see if you can make him wet his pants.

  “Did you need something else?” asked Dr. Granger.

  “No,” grumbled Alex, “I’m going.”

  Dr. Granger smiled and typed something into his tablet. “Don’t go too far, Alex. I’m restricting your travel pass for the week, just in case you’re tempted to run away. And don’t make me call the paramedics to drag you out of your apartment. Your mother was so embarrassed last time, and she seems like such a nice lady.”

  Alex left the office, humiliated. He checked the bottom of his sneakers as he approached the building’s stairs. The soles were clean but he frowned. The treads were a little worn down. That wouldn’t do. He looked around as if a drone would automatically know to deliver a new set of sneakers, size 12, to Alex Barnes, top of the stairs, psychiatric care building. Ah well, he thought, I’ll have to risk it. I’ll put on a fresh pair as soon as I get back. Promise. He glanced up, forgetting he was too smart to ask a ‘mythic being’ for help. He gripped the hand rail with both hands and eased himself carefully down the stairs, letting out tiny breaths between each one.

  He got to the bottom and stared out at the street. The cars zipped by at incredible speed, perfectly steered without human interference. Alex knew the statistics. The chance of an accident had been one in a million ever since human drivers were outlawed and the chance of dying in one of those rare accidents was another one in a million, now that individually tailored organs could be speed printed and cognitive backups were made every night during sleep cycles. But Alex just knew he was that one out of a trillion.

  Maybe I should go back up and take the teleporter, he thought, but he knew he was out of credits. Just as well, the chances of a teleporter malfunction were slightly higher than a traffic accident. He pushed open the door and stepped out onto the wide sidewalk. He immediately scuttled sideways, pressing himself against the building’s wall, trying to get as far from traffic as possible. He ignored the strangers who stared at him.

  A week, he thought, as he gingerly tested the cement in front of him with one foot. It had been rainy last week, and he knew a sinkhole could open at any second. Then, whoosh, he’d be gone, like a spider down a drain. Still, it’d probably be better than knowing it was coming for a week.

  He made his way slowly back to his apartment. If the therapy wasn’t state mandated, he wouldn’t put up with Dr. Granger. But Alex had lost his job, and he needed to keep the heat on so he didn’t freeze in his sleep and he needed groceries so he didn’t starve. The government wasn’t going to give him his stipend if he didn’t keep going to therapy. All so he could die in a lab instead of starving to death. Alex let out a hysterical laugh.

  There was a kid sitting on the front step of his apartment building, his cheek puffed out from the jaw-breaker he was sucking on.

  “You okay, mister?” he asked Alex.

  “Spit that out,” snapped Alex, “You wanna choke on it and die?”

  The kid wrinkled his brow. “Nobody dies anymore, mister, everybody knows that.”

  Alex wanted to tell him that someone had died, about nine years earlier, or the kid wouldn’t be there, but he just shook his head at the kid’s apparent carelessness and went inside. He only relaxed after he’d shut the apartment door behind him.

  It was stifling in the Safe-T-Foam covered room. Alex stripped down to his underwear. He wished he could open the window, but that meant he might fall out, even if it was a small window. He couldn’t take chances. He looked longingly at the fan in the corner, but the metal blades winked in the light, and he had visions of them zipping through his limbs like a circular saw. What if he tripped and went in head first? Instant decapitation, he was certain. In fact, what was the deadly thing still doing in the apartment anyway? It was a relic from before the accident. He always thought of it like that, the accident, like a one word headline in a post-apocalyptic newspaper. All this fallout from it. He’d expected the accident to kill him, and in a week, it finally would. Just not the way he expected.

  It’s never how you expect. That’s how it happens. Got to take my mind off this, he told himself, Research says stress leads to more organ replacements than anything else. Of course, reading the research is part of the problem. He flopped down on the couch and turned on the television. He’d watch a movie; that would calm him down.

  The White Rose— nah, not in the mood for subtitles. Documentary on Jonestown. No, it’s the kind of thing Dr. Granger would approve of. Romeo and Juliet— he paused for a moment, always a sucker for Shakespeare. But this rewrite was just silly. He tried one more time and found a Dickens festival. Ah, good. Dickens always has happy endings. This will work. He got up to go to the kitchen. He printed some seedless popcorn (so he wouldn’t choke) and poured a glass of lukewarm tap water. He placed the bowl on the coffee table and took a drink before sitting back down. On the screen, Sydney Carton was changing places with Charles, and Alex realized what he was watching and switched off the television in disgust.

  He tapped his fingers nervously on the coffee table. A book then! That’s what I need. Where was that one I was reading? He wandered into his bedroom to find it. He finally fell asleep hours later, a copy of The Wall lying open under his fingers.

  * * *

  It was a long week. When Alex finally reported back to the hospital he’d lost almost twenty pounds because he was increasingly convinced that Dr. Granger had only been bluffing about not springing the death on him and had arranged for his food printer to be poisoned. He was, of course, unshaven, because even a safety razor was out of the question at this point.

  “You look awful, Alex. Have you been sleeping properly?” asked Dr. Granger.

  “Just fine, Dr. Granger, for someone awaiting execution.”

  “This isn’t a— never mind. We’ve exhausted this discussion. Next time, I’ll give you a sleeping pill.”

  “Next time?” shrieked Alex.

  Dr. Granger ignored him and instead turned to a large orderly nearby. “Would you prep Mr. Barnes for his procedure?” The orderly nodded.

  “No,” said Alex, “wait, aren’t we going to go over safety precautions first?”

  “I’ve already checked them Alex, I assure you, the medical team is standing by to revive you,” Dr. Granger pointed up to a large window in the wall. A group of five people waved and smiled. One took a picture. Alex thought they looked awfully young for doctors. But then, everyone looked young now, so how would he know? “And we pulled your cortical backup from last night’s sleep cycle already. We’re ready when you are.”

  The orderly stepped forward and took Alex by the arm, as if he were a small child’s stuffed animal. “But I’m not ready—” said Alex, looking over his shoulder as they passed Dr. Granger. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me what to expect?”

  “Did you watch the documentaries I assigned?”

  “Well, yes, of course, but—”

  “The stages are simple, disembodiment as your brain registers it no longer has control over bodily functions, a bright light as your brain experiences an electrical surge, strong emotion or the appearanc
e of a close relative or friend as your brain accesses your memories for similar experiences, and then— well, then it’s done. Simple really.”

  The orderly pressed Alex gently but firmly down onto the gurney and began strapping him to it.

  “I— I ate after midnight!” said Alex.

  “You didn’t have any medical order not to, Alex. You only need to fast if you are trying to avoid death during sedation. It might get messy, but death is messy. Speaking of which—” he turned to the orderly, “Could you help Mr. Martin get his adult diaper on? I don’t think we’ll get that far this time, but always better safe than sorry.”

  Alex started to hyperventilate as the orderly yanked off his jeans. “I— uh— I think I left the oven on.”

  Dr. Granger smiled and tapped on his tablet. “No, your smart house shows all appliances are off, see?” he said holding up the tablet for Alex to see. “Enough stalling now, we’re ready. We are attempting to have this be as authentic an experience as possible, so to simulate ‘life flashing before your eyes,’ I took the liberty of cueing up your favorite piece of music and if you will look at the large screen straight ahead, you will see a compendium of childhood photos provided by your mother. She is here as well, with your father.”

  Alex glanced up at the window and saw his mother smile encouragingly at him. His father gave him a thumbs up. Alex turned deep red. The orderly was inserting the I.V. now and Alex shuddered as a drop of dark blood backwashed into the tube.

  “Is there anything you’d like to say for posterity before we begin? Think of it as your last words. You have 30 seconds.”

  “What? I— that’s it? That’s all I get? No last cigarette or anything? This is so humiliating. Dr. Granger, you’ll pay for—”

  The pump for the machines started and Alex fell silent for a moment, trying to figure out what the strange whoosh was. He started screaming as he realized it was really happening. He stopped thirty seconds later as the drug kicked in.

  There was a bright light around him, and Alex could hear Dr. Granger calling his name, but it faded. He had time to be disappointed that Dr. Granger had been right before he saw the silhouette of a man in front of him. His psychiatrist had predicted this as well, but Alex couldn’t control his excitement.

  Are you God? He thought. And to his surprise, the shadow answered.

  “Yes,” it said. Alex tried to blink so the shadow would come into focus, but having no eyelids proved to be a problem.

  “Just concentrate,” said the silhouette.

  Alex focused on trying to move toward the figure and the brightness faded. He was standing in the middle of a stairway. Below him was a closed door, and above, another. Around him were other staircases, thousands of them. Not all of them were straight up and down. They went sideways or spiraled, some even appeared to be above him tilted upside down, as if he were in an Escher sketch, except that all of the stairs led to somewhere, at least one door connected to each— some had several. They stretched farther than Alex could see, even with his mind’s eyes. The figure had solidified too, it was up ahead, sitting on the landing of a very polished staircase of black and white marble. His legs draped over the edge. Alex panicked for a brief moment, thinking the figure would fall, but then he remembered they were both already dead. The thought wasn’t particularly comfortable, but it mostly just sat in the background, chafing him.

  He climbed the stairs toward the figure. “My shrink said you didn’t exist, but I knew you did,” said Alex, hoping to win points for his faith. “I have to admit, I was frightened to meet you. I thought— maybe you wouldn’t want to meet me. Maybe you wouldn’t like me.”

  He looked up at the man sitting casually on the nearby staircase. His face finally came into focus and Alex stopped, horrified. The man was smiling with Alex’s face. “How could I not like you, Alex?” he said, “I am you.”

  Alex screamed, even without lungs. His mind screamed and the staircase room shook with the force of it. He ran back down the stairs away from the Alex-God-thing.

  “I wouldn’t go through—” called the Alex-God-thing from behind him. From around him. From inside him. Alex didn’t stop but yanked open the glass door at the bottom of the stair, not even looking at what was behind it. He ran through.

  And found himself gasping on the gurney, Dr. Granger smiling smugly above him. “There Alex, was that so bad?” he asked loudly.

  Alex shrieked.

  “Oh dear,” said Dr. Granger. He looked up toward Alex’s parents in the observation room. “These things do take time, you know,” he shouted over the ragged screams that kept spilling out of Alex’s throat. Alex wound down, exhausted, until he was just whimpering pathetically. Dr. Granger patted him on the shoulder. “It may have taken a shove, but you are now facing your fear head on. It’s good that you aren’t suppressing your feelings. You should stay with it. I’ll see you next Tuesday for another session.”

  “Another session?” asked Alex, his voice a hoarse whisper, “I can’t. I saw Him. It.”

  Dr. Granger folded his arms across his chest as one of the orderlies helped Alex sit up. “Saw who?” asked the doctor with a frown.

  “God. Or at least— that’s what he said. I said. I guess.”

  There was a titter from one of the nurses. Dr. Granger adjusted his glasses. “Alex, we’ve gone over this. It was just your brain manifesting a story to make sense of what was happening to it. Just like a dream. It means I didn’t let you stay out for long enough. It ought to be a very peaceful experience. I apologize, next session we’ll go for longer.”

  Go for longer, thought Alex, but I was the one that opened the door. Had nothing to do with you, smart ass. But aloud he just said, “I don’t want another session. I’m never dying again.”

  “Let’s not have a tantrum, Alex.”

  “It’s not a tantrum. I’m being a good member of society. Death is totally avoidable. I don’t need more immersion therapy, I just need to opt out of death altogether. Put it out of my mind.”

  “If you could put it out of your mind, we wouldn’t be here, Alex. Denial will only make your phobia worse. I’m convinced this is the best way— especially now that you seem to be suffering from hallucinations. I don’t want this ‘God’ experience to develop into a full-blown delusion. I’ll see you on Tuesday, it’s for the best.”

  Alex was afraid to sleep. He was afraid the Alex-God-thing would chase him in his dreams. That awful, familiar voice would erupt from his chest in the living world like some kind of Deific Possession. Was that even possible? Was it even God? Did the thing that looked like him lie? And Dr. Granger seemed to think it was all a construction of his own mind. Alex didn’t like the idea of his own mind lying to him about something so— so esoteric. It’s not like Alex thought about God on a daily basis. Nobody did. Not since Death became curable. It had solved so many problems. But apparently Alex’s mind thought it was important enough to lie about. Maybe.

  He had someone come and remove all the mirrors in the apartment along with the fan. He didn’t want to risk seeing the Alex-God-thing in the mirror instead of himself. He slept only when he collapsed, and even then, had to have a session of theta wave manipulation each time. He dragged himself to the appointment with Dr. Granger. His exhaustion made him too tired to take all the usual precautions, and he realized with a shock as they strapped him to the gurney, that he’d forgotten to check the kitchen floor after he’d washed the dishes. He could have fallen and broken his neck, all because he was worried about some non-existent deity haunting him. He was tired of being terrified. He was angry. He didn’t protest at all as Dr. Granger prepared the session.

  “Going to leave you for longer this time Alex. Don’t worry, I’ve been assured it’s perfectly safe, and we have your backups of course. I trust this time will go much more smoothly. I’m proud of you for not whining this time,” said Dr. Granger.

  Alex managed a sour smile, but thought, Not doing this for you, you smug know-it-all. Got to prove that Al
ex-God-thing was just a blip. Just a dying neuron raging at its fate.

  He settled into the gurney. The whoosh of the pump started and Alex closed his eyes. The bright light faded quickly this time, and Alex found himself on the same set of stairs as before.

  “I told you not to go through that one, numbnuts.” The Alex-God-thing was there again. Talking to him again. “You never go back through the door you entered by.”

  Just ignore it, Alex thought, maybe it’ll just go away.

  “Doesn’t work that way. Otherwise I could just ignore you and you’d go away. Can’t unmake ourselves.”

  “I thought you said you were God,” said Alex, conceding.

  “I am. Or— at least I’m what you would classify as God.”

  “Then why can’t you unmake me?”

  “Because you’re me. I can’t un-create myself.”

  “Huh?”

  The Alex-God-thing stood up and walked down a few stairs until he was level with Alex. “Don’t you get it? You died, numbnuts. Twice. Because you went back through the door you came in.”

  “I died twice because I have a sadistic psychiatrist,” grumbled Alex.

  “No, no, no. You’ve got it all wrong. That schmuck doesn’t control anything. At least— not in yourverse. Maybe he has a himverse and they overlap— I still haven’t decided what I think about that. Think of him as the poisoned cat in the box, if it makes you happy. Which, I know, it does.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Alex, no longer terrified as much as utterly lost.

  “This place,” the Alex-God-thing spread out his arms and turned around on his stair, indicating the massive room of staircases stretching out on all sides of them, “this is yourverse. You came here because you lost relativity.”

  “I— lost relativity?”

  “Yes, when you died, you lost it. You don’t have a body, so space is meaningless to you.”

  “But— why are we standing on separate staircases then?”