by Amelia Grace
‘You help them, you help them to forgive others and themselves. Yet you do not use the same playing field for yourself Ethan – how is that?’
‘I have no soul Georgia. I have no control over my eternal destiny, but they do, and I want them to know it.’
‘Only because you choose to see it that way Ethan. I look around and see the beauty, the goodness, the love that conquers all the things that repulse you. It’s your frame of mind. The way that you choose to think. But you should know that, you are a doctor.’
He remained silent. Like wisdom without words.
‘I have called you here because I need to tell you about my childhood, as you suggested, to free me of the chains that link me to my past. I want to see the beauty, the goodness and the love that you see. I want to feel it in here.’ He put his hand over his heart. His face was pained. My lost Ethan. I so so so want to pull you out of the maze and into the light that will fill your life, and make you feel complete.
‘I’m here, and I’m listening Ethan – no judgement. Nothing can shock me, or scare me,’ I encouraged. He sat looking at the water for sometime before he started. I waited. Good things come to those who wait.
‘I was manufactured, as I have told you. My earliest memory is of many men surrounding me, talking, questioning, talking, attaching electrodes to my head to measure brain activity, taking blood test after blood test, and listening to educational audios as I went to sleep each night – subliminal learning. I had no motherly influences. No mothering, no touching. I was tended to by male scientists, focused on my intellectual ability and my physical health. My emotional health was deprived. I didn’t know it at the time. How could I? It was the only world that I knew.
By day, my learning was accelerated with one on one teachers, scientists, instructors and computers. By night, my mind was filled with knowledge through the use of audiobooks and then the audio of sleep learning.
Then one day, a woman came in to my learning room. I was fascinated by her. She had long hair – it was far different to the short and balding heads of the scientists. Her face was attractive, full of......compassion, her voice soft, sweet. And she touched me on the head and face. It was the first time that I remembered being touched without a probe or some other scientific or medical tool. My world had been so sterile, cold. I felt so confused by the new emotions that I was feeling. I wanted her to touch me again and again. I craved her hand on me, like some depraved animal. She made me smile, and I liked it. Smiling was unfamiliar to me, as was the emotion of happiness. I wanted to be like her – kind, and helpful. I am what I am today because of her. Those qualities of compassion soaked into me like I was a thirsty sponge.
Then.......they took her away. They took the light of my life away. And my world collapsed in on me. The darkness invaded and covered me like a suffocating blanket. I now knew that there was more to life than what the scientists had me believe. They had sheltered me from the reality of life, from the real world, warts and all. I was empty. And the void was taking over.
I completed my Medical degree by the age of eighteen – they had chosen my life for me. And then, when I got the chance, I escaped from them. I hated them Georgia, and what they had done to me. I was purely a cloning experiment that in their eyes was a success. I was super intelligent, and showed no signs of the compromised immune function and higher rates of infection, tumor growth, and other disorders that had been previously seen in cloning of animals, or the early attempts at human cloning. Physically, intellectually I was a success. But emotionally I am a complete and utter mess. I don’t belong here, or anywhere. I am lost in the darkness. Lost without hope of anything. I need you to help me......please...’ his voice was cracking in emotion, tears welling up in his eyes.
I placed my hand onto his shoulder. My heart was breaking for him. He placed his hand over mine, and wept. To be honest, I didn’t know what I could do for him. He had led such a deprived and sad life, guided by men of science who should have known better. They were accountable. If they had neglected his emotional well-being he was not a success in my eyes. Emotional health is the most important of the human attributes, above physical health, above intelligence. One is nothing without emotional health, a sense of knowing who you are and your worth to society. Giving care to others and receiving it. Compassion.
‘Ethan, you have spent your entire life with scientific, medical methods. You know no other way. And now you choose to spend your time with others in a poor state of mind, health and wealth. I cannot see how you can see the world in a different light when you are so immersed in depressing situations of others around you.’ I said, trying to put what I saw in perspective.
‘But Georgia, I help people. That is what I do, like you,’ he responded. ‘I don’t want to walk around in a world where there is happiness. It reminds me of what I do not have, and what I never will have. I feel nothing in here.’ He once again put his hand over his heart, and twisted his face in pain.
‘Balance Ethan. You need to balance your working world with a world of opposites to this world where you are helping people continuously. You are presently helping people, yet denying yourself. You are allowed to be happy. When did you last go to the beach?’ I asked him.
There was silence, as he looked out over the flowing water. ‘Never,’ he replied, swallowing.
‘Never ever?’ I said, going for clarification of never. He shook his head.
‘I have seen the beach in books, on television, in the virtual world that I was raised on. I don’t need to go to the beach,’ he explained as an excuse for his lack of experiences.
‘Oh my goodness Ethan! Do you truly believe that a virtual beach is like experiencing a real beach? Your unintelligent intelligence beguiles me’ I questioned him in shock.
‘It is what I have felt – all of my life,’ he answered, ashamed of his admission, hanging his head.
‘You feel an emptiness Ethan. It does not have to stay this way. You keep shutting people out. Let some into your life. Let them give to you, instead of always giving to them. You must learn to like yourself, love yourself. You need to let yourself do that. You are worthy. Just by being alive you are worthy. Life is a gift. Open it up and feel the freedom, your wholeness. Give yourself permission to do that. You are the one who is in your way. I also feel that you need to belong. You feel very alone don’t you?’
He nodded, concentrating on his knotted hands.
‘You know, many people, conceived naturally feel that way. The feeling is not isolated to your manufactured beginnings.’
He turned his head and looked at me, his expression unreadable.
‘I know the statistics Georgia. You are not telling me anything new here. I want a soul. I want to feel whole. I want to feel complete, satisfied. I want eternal life,’ he spoke in hushed tones.
‘Ethan, you are talking about your spirituality. Seek and you will find,’ I answered him in a whisper, looking deeply into his eyes. He did not look away from me. Se was still searching, searching my eyes, searching my face. If he could reach in and search my heart I am sure he would have done that too.
I leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
‘Knock, and the door will be opened to you,’ I added softly before I stood, my hand lightly on his shoulder. And then I left him as the darkness of the evening crept in on the land. I turned back to see his silhouette on the park bench under the dead tree, but he was gone – vanished. The breeze blew my hair as a warmth hugged my body. I closed my eyes, then turned to walk home.
Would I see Ethan again? I felt the answer was no. My heart was telling me so. He had taken from me what he was looking for, and I prayed that the piece completed his jigsaw puzzle perfectly, with perfect love.”’
Georgia stared at the ground to her left. Her face was impassive. The time had come. The story had ended. No......no......not yet.
‘Did you ever see him again Georgia?’ I asked, my voice quiet. She turned her head to me slowly, and shook her head with minimal
movement.
‘No,’ she answered, and then brushed a tear away.
‘What now?’ I asked nervously. I sensed my time with Georgia was very limited.
She looked down at the closed book, and ran her fingers over the stamped leather word.
‘I really don’t know. Perhaps I must give it to you now? This book is a one of a kind. I had never come across a book like this ever.’ Georgia looked up at me, her eyes were very serious. She leaned forward and put her head on my shoulder. I didn’t know what to say to her. I only knew that my heart felt tight. I didn’t want to say goodbye to her. I sucked in a deep breath.
‘Breakfast time Georgia,’ I said, trying to sound positive. I stood and offered my hands to help her off the ground. She took them, and when she stood she drew me close.
‘The book belongs to you now. You are the Keeper of the Book.’ Her voice was a whisper, her eyes penetrating mine as she moved her face closer, slowly, looking at my lips.
As our lips touched slightly, a warmth entered my body, an addictive high of emotions. Our kiss was gentle, her soft lips caressing mine, and then I pulled away. I placed my hand softly at the side of her face as I pulled her lips back to mine, kissing her again, deeply, letting my heart connect to hers. She pulled away after a short while and looked into my eyes.
‘Say it!’ she said, ‘Say it Cohen.’ The intensity of her eyes were burning into mine.
‘I am the Keeper of the Book.’ I said it. Did it mean the end of Georgia and I? The handing over of the bloody book? The kiss to seal the deal? What had I done?
I stepped back from her and ran my hand through my hair, confused. I was neither here nor there. Was I in some sort of a relationship or not? She was calling all of the shots. I wish I could read her mind!
‘Tea for two and breakfast Georgia,’ I said to her, and took her hand in mine as we walked, in silence, the sky clouding over, threatening rain on our journey to our first meeting place. And perhaps the last meeting place. My heart started to ache.
Bloody book!
Chapter 13
The clanging of the doorbell heralded our arrival at Oooh Laaa La! Cafe. Immediately I inhaled the welcoming aroma of coffee, and delicious products from the bakery.
Georgia sat at the table for two by the quaint window facing a small courtyard, while I ordered tea for two, a gingerbread man, and an enormous cupcake decorated with pink flowers.
The bouquet of roses that I had given her lay across our table, Georgia stroking the soft pink petals absent mindedly.
‘Penny for your thoughts Miss Harrison,’ I said quietly to her as I sat in the opposite chair. She smiled shyly and closed her eyes. When she opened her eyes again her smile was gone.
‘I feel so lost Cohen, so empty now that the book has been read,’ she commented softly.
‘Separation anxiety?’ I suggested to her.
She looked out the window, her eyes sad.
‘Perhaps......but is it from the book, or you?’ she replied.
‘It doesn’t have to be both....does it?’ I questioned. I had no idea of the protocol that apparently came with the bloody book.
‘The rules are clear. He who hears the book then becomes the Book Keeper, who you shall see no more,’ Georgia whispered as if tempting misfortune.
I put my hand over hers and looked into her beautiful blue eyes.
‘Rules are meant to be broken,’ I suggested, panic spreading through my blood.
Our tea for two arrived with the edibles. Georgia looked at the cupcake and smiled.
‘More flowers for you Miss Harrison,’ I said smiling coyly at her as I poured the cups of tea.
‘Thank-you,’ she mouthed to me, her head slightly to the side, melting my heart, my heart that was breaking.
I broke off a bit of my gingerbread man and put it into her mouth.
‘You are the Gingerbread Taster.....Georgia,’ I said, my voice low, looking into her eyes.
She chewed slowly, rolling her eyes in delight, and then smiled, lighting up the room.
I took her hand in mine and kissed her knuckles, smiling against her warm skin.
Silence descended upon us then, as we sipped our tea and ate. A tear trickled down Georgia’s face. She wiped it away with a rose petal. I blinked away my own tears. It was time for me to go. But I could not endure the torture of goodbye yet.
‘Dinner, and a movie tonight Georgia....to celebrate.’ Then I stood, and bowed to her before I left her at the table, the clanging doorbell announcing my departure.
I shoved the bloody book under my arm and my hands into my pockets as I trekked back to my apartment. The dark clouds hung in the sky, ominous.
Upon entering my apartment, I placed the bloody book in the study room on the book shelf. It belonged there. It was with its own. Then I took out Tim Jennings to email Georgia.
FROM: The Keeper of the Book
SUBJECT: Evening twilight
DATE: May 19 2011 11:11
TO: Georgia Harrison
Dear Georgia,
I will come to pick you up when it is neither daytime nor night time. Dinner followed by a movie. Flick me your address please.
Cohen #ireallyhatesayinggoodbyetothegingerbreadmanmaker
Send....
FROM: The Ex-Book Keeper
SUBJECT: The Gingerbread Man’s Address
DATE: May 19 2011 11:13
TO: Tim Jennings
Dear Tim,
Twilight is such an amazing time of day. A connection to peacefulness.
From Ooooh Laaa La Cafe – follow the Gingerbread Men with hearts.
I will await eagerly for your knock on the door in the rhythm of the Gingerbread Man chant.
Georgia #ithinkthatiwanttobreaktherules
I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. I know that I want to break the rules! But, I knew that we would never be together. The desires of my heart would never be fulfilled – emotionally, or physically. The Mind Reading Implant would see to that.
Five hours stood in the way of seeing Georgia again today. The sport on television held no interest for me today. My mind felt agitated, hungry even, needing to be filled with knowledge. But of what?
A gentle cool breeze flowed through from the study room. I entered the room to close the window. I was sure that it would start raining soon.
Once I had closed the window I could feel it pulling me towards it.
The bloody book!
I turned around aggressively and looked at it shaking my head. I did not want to engage with the bloody book again. I had given the bloody book to the bookshelf. It was now the Book Keeper!
I ran my hand through my hair. Frustration dripped from my face like melting wax from a candle. BLOODY BOOK! I walked over to it and reefed it off the shelf, and walked out of the study room with heavy feet like an immature child expressing my huge dislike.
An echo bounced off the wall as I placed the bloody book onto the kitchen table with a thud. Inflicting a little pain onto the bloody book made me feel a little better. Maybe I should punch into it to feel a whole lot better? Mmm...tempting.
I took a deep breath. I was the Keeper of the Bloody Book now. I was the Keeper....
The raised surface of the insignia felt warm, hot even, while the rest of the leather cover was cool. Very odd. Underneath the three interconnecting circles were some words – latin I think. It said ‘Mutato nomine de te fibula narrator’. I had no idea what it meant. I will Google it later.
Inside the leather cover was white, inkless paper. So perfect in its hue that it hurt my eyes if I looked at it for too long. I squinted to keep up the eye contact. I turned the pages. They were all exactly the same, white, inkless, perfect. There were no indentations, as if someone had written in it like when I found it and gave it to Georgia.
I lifted the bloody book to my nose. An old musty odour spoke of it’s age, mixed with Georgia’s sweet rose perfume. I shuffled through the pages again – inkless.
Where did Georgia re
ad from? And why couldn’t I see it?
I raised my eyebrows. What do I do with the bloody book now? Do I start to write in it? Do I leave it on the shelf for a century or three? And, what is the purpose of the bloody book anyway?
Bloody book! Nothing but trouble from the moment it invaded my life without an invitation. I ran my hand through my hair, and left the bloody book alone on the table. Watching sports on television seemed like an awesome idea after all. At least it was a mindless pursuit that didn’t challenge my intelligence too dramatically! And it wasn’t something mysterious that science could not explain, until of course my evening with Georgia. Now there is something that is mysterious and cannot be fully explained either – Women!
I dressed in my black pants and a long sleeved white cotton shirt, rolled up to just below my elbows. Georgia hasn’t seen me dressed this way – a little bit fancy, a bit upmarket. It was the perfect way to dress to celebrate our short time together.
The dark grey clouds hung heavily in the sky as I walked to the Ooooh Laaa La! Cafe to find the first gingerbread man. And there he was, attached to a street light post, gingery in colour with a red heart with a C in the middle of the red heart. I smiled. Georgia knew how to make me feel happy, and, in love. But I could never tell her. There was no future for us.
I followed the seven gingerbread men to her residence. It was a modern establishment with high security. The last gingerbread man had a number on his heart ‘789’. I pushed the corresponding button on the intercom.
‘Cohen, you’re here,’ Georgia exclaimed excitedly. There must be security cameras as well. ‘Come through, seventh floor, number eighty-nine. See you soon,’ she said.
My heart started to do a dance. I put my hand over my heart and patted my chest. Calm down, calm down I told myself as I entered the building. The elevator rose to the seventh floor very smoothly, with speed. I exited and then strolled down the fresh smelling corridor until I came to door number eighty-nine, the gold numbers were highly polished. I breathed in deeply as I knocked on the door with our secret code from the gingerbread man story.