Reanimated_Terminal Misery

by Jon State

  “Let’s move forward and leave the past to the past. Plus, I don’t recall overall chaos, especially the way they're selling it around Terranova lately. It seems more like a witch hunt to me. Let’s find someone to blame for our past miseries.” The doctor scoffed.

  “I only think we can do so much better, that’s all,” Ben said, holding his hands up defensively.

  “I know. So did all the leaders of Old Earth.” He turned, wondering what happened to his friend Ben, the scientist. That man had dwindled when true leadership failed to rise.

  A phantasmagoric hue tinted the room. The doctor had smelled the reanimation process the very first day. He failed to find a word for it, but if he had to explain it, he would say it smelled like foul flatulence. The distinct odor had slowly matured, it had grown sweeter. Dr. Spencer knew this new aroma, like a forest after a refreshing rain, but he tried to keep these thoughts to himself. Then he noticed Ben pinching his nose. Dr. Spencer preferred not to mention the odd scents. "What's wrong?" he asked, stupefied as to how Ben could smell anything, especially when the aroma of a forest lingered in his nostrils. Ben looked as if he'd taken a whiff of the rear end of a boar.

  “You can’t deny that stink in the air doesn’t churn your insides. I think we need a way to seal the toaster from this room,” he said with a nasal hiss.

  "We did seal it. In fact, any expelling gases are routed a hundred yards away from the compound,” the doctor said, with a haunted expression. Then he added, more to himself, “I thought I was imagining it?”

  Ben turned his head to the chamber in an owl-like manner but remained reticent.

  Two Alphas prepared a gurney to accommodate the reanimate. They moved like ants, precise and quick.

  The red-lit room switched to a calming blue light. A melodic chime joined with the clicks and ticks of the machines as they shut down. "Process completed. The subject is resting,” Charlie 4 intoned.

  For what seemed like an eternity, the doctor’s mouth refused to work. “Charlie 4, open chamber.”

  The toaster hissed open, like a steaming iron. The Alphas remained on alert as the steam reached them. The steam made them look like statues on a misty morning.

  A dark-green slimed hand reached out from within the chamber, everyone flinched.

  Ben looked at the doctor, who remained frozen in place. Ben felt sick.

  Am I having another episode? Dr. Spencer thought.

  “Spence?”

  “Oh, yes. Alphas, remove David and ensure he is not injured. His body is considerably frail compared to most humans. Understood?”

  “Affirmative.”

  No one moved while they removed David from the chamber. The green mire fell off his body in clumps, and some hung to his flesh like shedding skin. He neither moved, nor emitted a sound. The Alphas spread a sheet over him as he slid onto the gurney.

  “Is that it? Is he healthy? Normal?” Ben asked insistently, giddy as a child before opening his Christmas gifts.

  The doctor took a deep breath and said, “Yes, but we still have to run many tests. For all we know, his heart could give out at any moment. In fact, any of two thousand things could happen to his metabolism. We’re flying by the seat of our pants here, so I don’t want any premature news leaving this facility."

  “Got it, but I will inform—”

  “You will do no such thing. You—and only you—will know David’s condition. If someone inquires, tell them it’s too early to tell. When I know for certain he is stable, I will let you know.”

  Ben stared at him with a glazed expression and took in a long breath. "You're in charge of his care, my friend. Keep me informed. I’ll return to my affairs.”

  Dr. Spencer tore his eyes from Ben and back to David, whose arm gave a few spastic jerks.

  Chapter 65

  Natural

  Terranova, USC

  September 16, 4088

  There was a park in North Dakota that he went to as a child. A place he frequented while growing up in Dickinson. Things were fuzzy in his mind, but before he had awakened, he remembered sitting on a mudstone hillock in Theodore Roosevelt National Park listening to the breeze. Then the pain had started. An unexplainable hopelessness settled over him when his mind wandered back to that moment.

  He felt different, or rather, he felt like someone else. In fact, he looked like someone else, a version of himself when he was a young man. Upon seeing his image in a mirror, the doctor explained that he had gone into convulsions. They said they couldn't tell what happened but promised to look into it. That was two weeks ago.

  David sat in silence. Three weeks recovering and, despite being a bit tired, he felt as good as any resurrected man, he supposed. It had taken only three weeks, which he devoted to relearn how to move. They worked his nerves daily on separate machines, and he exercised every day. They bombarded him with pure sunlight and even injected him with several vaccines.

  An elusive feeling still loomed in the back of his consciousness. He'd decided to let it be, for no matter how hard he tried to unveil the sensation, it remained hidden. His fingers still tingled when he touched specific items. The doctor told him it was atrophy and that it would subside in time.

  The doctor had patiently explained the reanimation process, which had a severe effect on his psyche, too. He’d passed out but didn't know why. Dr. Spencer told him the invasive procedure just needed to realign with his consciousness. The device scared him to hell, though. He knew it was only a matter of getting used to the fact that it worked. The doctor and Malica told him not to overthink the issue. He wanted to argue the point, but he was grateful and let them have the last word.

  “Good morning, David,” Charlie 4 said.

  “Good morning, Charlie 4.”

  “The doctor said to meet him in the dining hall.”

  “Sounds great. I’m ready for fresh faces and fresh air. Thanks for everything, Charlie 4.” David’s lips trembled a bit. He stood and pushed the chair under the table, then paused. Had the chair moved on its own? The thought startled him. He shook his head, dismissing the notion, as the idea of freedom coursed through his mind.

  Chapter 66

  Mutants

  Terranova, USC

  September 23, 4088

  “David is fitting in quite well. Wouldn't you say?" Ben said, examining the doctor's facial response. "He's the youngest citizen among us—not a child—but a pleasant addition to our city. He brightens everyone's day. Now that we have briefed the people about this new procedure they seem so hopeful. I know we said the method was nearly perfect but the Council and only a select few need to know about the success ratio.

  Dr.Spencer remained silent for a moment, then slid a soft pad towards Ben.

  “What’s this?”

  "A cross-section of one of David's blood cells. Notice anything unusual?"

  Ben squinted at the floating image. “What are these green blotches covering the nucleus?”

  “I have no clue, but one thing is clear, it’s unknown to any human compound,” Dr. Spencer said.

  Ben cupped his chin in one hand and held up the soft screen for a closer look.

  “We need to postpone the next reanimation until I’ve had time to come up with some answers.”

  “You said David is fine.”

  "He is. These spots were not evident when we ran the first test series, and now they're growing in size, as well."

  “Are they having an ill effect on the cell?”

  “No, but we still don’t know what this could mean.”

  "Come on, Spence, Shela is prepped and ready. You told the Council we all have these unknown bacteria in our bodies and they have not harmed us. I say let's do one more, and if Shela exhibits the same marks, then we put the program on hold."

  Dr. Spencer mulled it over. He knew the Council would side with Ben, especially after their recent success. “One more,” he said, his tone a bit unsteady.

  “Then we start tomorrow,” Ben said and slipped away behind the cor
ridor in four long strides.

  ************************************

  Dr. Spencer stared heavy-eyed at the reanimation chamber. The process had reached its culmination. The thick mist held a pungent odor compared to the previous reanimation. This time it reminded the doctor of blue cheese. Ben didn’t seem to notice this time, as he sat facing the toaster, hope etched across his aging visage. These odors are troubling, but David turned out normal, Dr. Spencer pondered, but towards the end, the smell had grown sweet and fresh--not like this.

  The lights changed, the noises rang, and the chamber hissed, the hatch slipped away. All eyes in the room locked on the scene below.

  A flopping sound came from within the chamber as if they'd revived a fish.

  Ben and Dr. Spencer shared a glance.

  Everyone winced when something struck the chamber. The doctor grit his teeth.

  “What’s going on?” Ben asked spooked.

  “Charlie 4, is Shela in distress?”

  "No, Doctor, but she appears to have—"

  Something smacked the chamber so hard the unit shook. An extended, fibrous hand attached to a tentacle-like arm slapped the toaster’s rim, splashing green slime across the room.

  “Alphas, assist and restrain her!” The doctor said in a tremulous tone.

  "What the hell is that?" Ben said, taking several steps back. His hands came up in front of him as if that would make what he was witnessing go away.

  “Charlie 4, why were no anomalies detected?”

  “Doctor, there are no anomalies. Her metabolic state is unblemished,” Charlie 4 stated.

  “What? She’s deformed!”

  “Analyzing. Give me a moment, please... Subject appears to have cephalopod appendages. However, her tissue remains human."

  “How is this possible? Charlie 4, postulate.”

  “It appears Shela Fischer had consumed a cephalopod before entering the cryogenic chamber during her previous life. Undigested traces were found in her stomach.”

  No one spoke. Only the woman’s thrashing and the hissing machine broke the silence.

  “Everyone out!” Dr. Spencer said. His face had gone a pasty white. He approached the grim; chalky faced Ben. "What now?"

  Chapter 67

  Murder

  Terranova, USC

  October 7, 4088

  “Order!” Ben demanded for the second time, slamming the gavel hard against its plate. The gavel nearly slipped from his clammy hand. The veins along his temple rose, as he strained his voice over the tumult.

  Jondis blared a red safety horn, stopping everyone in mid-sentence. “We will have order, ladies, and gentlemen. I am tasked with keeping the peace. If this happens again, I’ll be forced to remove any transgressor,” Jondis said, holding up a shock staff. The sight of it persuaded those standing to take their seats.

  “Thank you, Jondis. I’m sure the Council and our compatriots will compose themselves.” Ben cleared his throat. “We will eventually have to vote.”

  “May I speak without being zapped silent?” A small woman in a white coat asked while glaring at Jondis.

  “Martha, despite the stress this is causing everyone, we must remember to keep cool heads. Speaking out of turn will only escalate an already strained situation,” Ben explained, emphasizing the point with his hands.

  “Understood, Chief Greer, but I am sure, if asked to leave, anyone here will do so without having to be threatened,” Martha said.

  Ben eyed Jondis. "I agree, Martha. Now, do you think we should vote?”

  “Vote for what? We created that poor creature, and now we are deciding whether to terminate her life? I knew Shela. We worked together during the CEEP project. You said she is perfectly responsive to her condition and, despite her mutations--her mind remains human, so why not introduce her into our fold? We are compassionate people.”

  “We’ve gone over this. We are not introducing mutant DNA into our folds, as you so aptly put it, Martha. Our scanners can’t even scan her for pathogens. How many more mutants will we have to introduce from this point forward? In any case, what we are voting for is—should we exile or terminate mutants. Should we continue to reanimate at all?” Ben said, trying to maintain his composer. Sweat permeated his shiny forehead.

  “We are intelligent and decent human beings. We lost everything we cherished. What we have experienced has changed us all. We have been through a terrible ordeal these past twenty years, but what will happen to us if we condemn humans we experiment on? Furthermore, those in the clinic are quite taken with Shela. She is a sweet, rational human with deformities. That’s all I see.” Dr. Spencer said.

  Malica tightened the grip on his hand, noticing the anger that rose to his face.

  Someone along the Council section shifted. A ramrod elderly lady stood with purpose, making all eyes turn to her. “I know our second outburst shook the room. So this question is directed to Dr. Spencer, and Dr. Spencer alone,” she said, her gaze fanning across unsettled eyes. A pall hung aloft, like the advent of a storm. “Doctor, how long until the human race is no more? We are not sanctioning murder or abuse. We have a duty to humanity, a duty to our progenitors. Were it not for them; we would not be here. The Council and those on the Association are one body. The Council has sat in deliberation for days. We find no other solution but to vote. If we must perish as a race, then it should be agreed upon." Ruby Patel's face was etched with wrinkles. She'd stepped down from the Council, but had been asked to join the Association years later. Her fealty to Ben had never wavered.

  “Why not let everyone vote?" Dr. Spencer asked bargaining for more time to deliver an answer to Ruby's well-contrived or perhaps well-rehearsed question.

  “If we agree to continue reanimating and disposing of mutated people, would it not be prudent to keep this privy among those who have to deal with it? Why burden everyone with this--something we well know is agonizing to our conscience?” Ben retorted.

  The doctor audibly cleared his throat, the lines on his face, strife-inflicted. “In answer to the question of our perpetuation, I can only shrug…and pray." The bleak answer hardened his visage, and washed his eyes in pain, mainly because he had grown fond of Shela. What hurt him the most was Mother's silence in all this. He sensed her displeasure. The day Shela emerged from the chamber; the guards informed him that many trees and shrubs had approached the outer wall as if in protest, but Mother said or did nothing, not unlike the gods of his past. He had come to understand how little she cared about humanity. Perhaps she caused the Cataclysm because she had grown tired of human folly, he thought. Dr. Spencer had concluded that this remnant of humanity, was like an echo of something which had already vanished and, if not, it didn’t matter, for their actions spoke to their worth as a species.

  Chapter 68

  Monsters

  Terranova, USC

  October 7, 4088

  “How are you feeling, Shela?” Charlie 4 asked as she sprayed a jet of fresh water onto her smooth, green scalp while she read from a waterproof computer pad. Her nimble, long fingers scarcely touched the rubbery screen while she panned through documents.

  “I feel marvelous, Charlie, but I am concerned. The doctor said they were deciding my fate today. I know I look very different than the human I once was, but I feel the same—almost like an old person who still feels as if they were young.”

  “I see your predicament, Shela. Do you trust the Council? Do you think they will mistreat you?"

  “I trust the doctor and those that have come to visit and console me at the clinic, but this remains my prison. Would you not call that mistreatment? The other Councilor’s eyes have shown me what I need to know—they fear me. Fear, is my enemy, Charlie. I am willing to accept my fate. As a scientist, I experimented with what I considered to be lower life forms. It’s only fitting I find myself reincarnated in the body of a creature I once admired, but later had for dinner. Ironic isn’t it?” Her lip-less mouth contorted into a grim smile, revealing a line of razor-shar
p, shiny fangs.

  “Yes it is, but you were reanimated and not reincarnated.”

  “Says the little machine who thinks like a person. Are you not a puzzle, too? You are a human without flesh and blood, little one. You reason, learn, and come to conclusions, and the main point is, you are aware you are a created machine—a thing but aware nonetheless. Awareness means you are a sentient being, and not just hardware and software kept around only for a service. If you so please, you can ask them to build you a body because you want to leave this building and they morally should comply.” Shela’s tail slithered across a few bars making them rattle.

  "Yes, I have pondered this, but I see no need. I enjoy what I do, and it may surprise you, but I have little desire to feel pain or experience physical degradation. I see humans suffering every day. I prefer to maintain my station in life.”

  “That is your prerogative. Mine is to be free." Her four fish-like eyes turned to the door. "I have seen what the colonists have been through these past twenty years in the archives and it was exhilarating, and at the same time, frightening. I want to be a part of this history and experience life, preferably, among my people.” Her ebony eyes grew sullen. “I think I will not get the chance, though, not with this body.”

  “What do you think will happen?”

  "They will not lock me up indefinitely, and they are not murderers. I believe the only solution is exile.”

  “Is this not tantamount to murder, Shela?”

  "For a human, I believe so, but for a creature like me--I'm not so sure. I have seen this New Earth’s land maps around Terranova, and there are many effulgent tributaries where I may thrive, but alone, I fear it will be a short life for me, Charlie. I will never have a mate or friends. That scares me more than you can imagine—pains me to the bone, in fact.” Her black eyes welled with tears.