Soul Suites

by Hulden Morse

  Chapter 58

  “You know what’s coming, don’t you?” the doctor said, glaring at the man who threatened his entire experiment.

  “Why are you doing this?” Charles squeaked out, fighting to keep his voice steady amidst the shaking of his body.

  “You know what we’re doing, Mr. Pearson. We’ve had this conversation before.”

  “But-but why? Why are you doing this? Who would even pay for something so cruel?”

  “Oh, Pearson. The question is, who wouldn’t want to be a part of this?” Dr. Raymond smiled at the confusion spreading across Charles’s face.

  “You’re killing people. You’re torturing them!” he yelled, momentarily glancing over at the parking lot security and seeing that they were still focused on his predicament.

  “An unfortunate sacrifice that will ultimately lead us into the future.”

  “Future? What fuckin’ future?”

  “My goodness, Mr. Pearson. You’re so closed minded. I like you, I do, but you’d make a terrible researcher.”

  Charles could feel his muscles tightening as his body begged him to run, begged him to flee with every ounce of energy it could muster. But his brain told the body to stay still and bide its time, waiting for just the right moment to escape. The building in the background burned. He could see dark figures sprinting past windows as they fought to control the growing flames. The alarm continued to ring loudly across the grounds.

  “You see,” the doctor said, “we are perfecting the art of killing someone. Killing them and then bringing them back to life unharmed. All these different trials, these different methods, are designed to determine how best to end someone’s life while still being able to revive them.”

  “But, why?”

  The gun remained steady in Dr. Raymond’s hand, pointed directly at Charles. He was calm. “What would you pay to see Heaven? Huh?”

  “What?”

  “Come now. What would you pay to see Heaven, with the guarantee that we could bring you back to Earth?”

  “Why would someone pay for that?”

  “What would you pay to see someone that you lost? If you had the opportunity to go to the afterlife and interact with a deceased parent, a husband, a wife, a child! What would that be worth to you?”

  “No. That’s not possible.”

  “It is! We are proving that it can be done. We are gathering data in order to prove the validity of such an idea. A young boy could see his dead dog. A little girl could meet her grandfather for the first time. You could see what awaits you after death! We are doing this. Now.”

  “How can you fund the killing of innocent people? You can’t murder humans in the name of science!”

  “Corporations will do anything for money. Killing homeless people that have no life to begin with in exchange for showing a paying public the afterlife? That’s an easy decision for any investor.”

  Charles put his hands to his head as if he were attempting to hold in the exploding emotions.

  “You can’t do this. You can’t do it! It’s not possible!”

  “My good sir. Almost everything on this planet is now being run by corporations. Pretty soon outer space will be owned by the businesses that are smart enough to claim it. You can bet your ass we’ll find a way to privatize the afterlife.”

  Charles felt numb. His head was pounding with the thought of so many people backing that project. He had devoted his life to helping others, and yet he was no match for the disgustingly wealthy tycoons who would not hesitate to beat another person if it put a dollar in their pockets.

  He fell to his knees.

  “You and I are both trying to change the world,” Dr. Raymond said. “Both trying to make it a better place.”

  “But I help people. You kill them!” Charles sobbed.

  Dr. Raymond walked toward the kneeling man, the gun still pointed at his head. His finger twitched on the trigger, waiting impatiently for the signal.

  “Don’t do this! Please, don’t do this!” The tears collected in his eyes, obscuring his view before trailing down a despairing face and dripping toward the ground. For better or worse, Charles could hardly see the blurry form of the doctor standing a couple feet in front of him.

  “I want to live!” he screamed at the doctor. “I have a family!”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Pearson. For a sizable fee, they can see you again.”

  The gunshot echoed off the building. Charles’s body instantly fell limp. The doctor watched as he slumped to the ground, crumpling into an awkward position over his legs before gravity rolled his torso onto its side, settling in the dirt where all motion ceased.

  Dr. Raymond turned toward his burning research center and hurried inside to help minimize the damage. He did not want to change locations. He had spent so much time perfecting that facility and had impressed many investors with its sophistication. He was not going to let one incident destroy what could be the greatest technological advance in human history. Yes, it would be an accomplishment forever linked with his name, immortalizing the work of Dr. Raymond Shepherd.

  Chapter 59

  A call to the authorities would have been suicidal. There were protocols in place for any conceivable emergency, procedures that were followed effectively after the explosion in Trial Room Three. Dr. Raymond was pleased with the response, noticing employees tending to the wounded, and other staff members darting about with fire extinguishers, dosing hot areas in retardant even though the fire seemed to be entirely under control. A strange odor reached his nose, one that was indicative of gasoline, and the doctor wandered toward the epicenter of the explosion, stepping through what should have been a door but was now a gaping hole in the wall, lined with jagged, crumbling edges and blackened plaster.

  Those that perished in the fire had already been removed from the area. They were disposed of in the incinerator, and a falsified report concerning their death would soon be composed in order to draw suspicion away from the facility. Nothing of this magnitude had ever affected the Soul Suites project, though Dr. Raymond was confident in the experiment’s sophistication and the sheer power of money, something that had always allowed operations to continue despite occasional disturbances. He nonchalantly kicked a scorched table that had fallen on its side, and then left the room to confront the crowd of employees gathering in the hallway.

  “Give me facts,” the doctor said to the crowd.

  “Two dead,” Eddie said, being the first person to step forward with information. “Members of the custodial crew. Five wounded. Mostly minor burns, a couple broken bones. Not sure of any internal bleeding. We are assessing for that now.”

  “And what have we learned of the incident?”

  “Um,” the man started, looking around the area for assistance.

  “Nothing definitive,” Meredith said, aiding her fellow Trial Technician. “Smells like gasoline, and we discovered that some of the extra canisters for the generator were missing. Dominic, from the custodial crew, had just left the room when the first explosion occurred. He said—”

  “I got it, Meredith,” a short, potholed man interrupted as he stepped away from the crowd to face the doctor.

  “Alright,” Dr. Raymond said, his eyes narrow. “Tell me what happened, Dominic.”

  Many onlookers in the hallway bowed their heads to the ground, while some shifted their weight from foot to foot. The tension in the area was grotesque, so thick and fat that the employees could chew on it, swallow it, and then choke on it as a mass of anxiety filled their throats.

  “Well,” Dominic began, “we walked into the room.”

  “Trial Room Three?”

  “Yeah. And we were going to prep it for the roommate trial that you ordered. Um, when we went in, I started working and then left the room to get something. That’s when the explosion happened.”

  “Do you remember
seeing anything in the room? Anything strange or out of place?”

  “Not really. Well, maybe one tiny thing.”

  “Tell me,” Dr. Raymond said, ire in his voice.

  “The surgical table was made weird. It had a sheet and pillow on it, but the sheet fell all the way to the floor. It was not tucked in at all.”

  “So you think—”

  “We think a makeshift bomb was stowed under the table,” Meredith said. “The blast seems to have come from the center of the room, where the table would have been.”

  A cracking sound interrupted the conversation and everyone watched as a large piece of plaster broke from the damaged wall, falling to the ground and sending ashen dust billowing across the ground. Employees jumped at the sound, some of them scurrying away in fright, while the doctor remained just outside the surgical room, watching the debris cover his slacks.

  “What of the second explosion?”

  “That one was worse,” Meredith explained. “I mean, it was bigger. We aren’t sure yet, but we think the fire from the first one may have heated some tanks. It seems to have come from the same room.”

  “I’ve got one more question,” he said to the shaken crowd. “Dominic? Am I correct in saying that you were part of the crew assigned to room 42? The one with Mr. Pearson in it?”

  “Yeah,” the man said hesitantly.

  “Alright. That’s all I need to hear. Please follow me, Dominic. Everyone else, clean up this shit and then go home. I’m sorry for the long day. But we stick to our regular schedule. See you all back here tomorrow morning.”

  One of the guards opened his mouth to speak, hesitating slightly, before waving his hand at the doctor to grab his attention and saying, “Doc? What happened with Pearson?”

  “Don’t worry, Hulden,” Dr. Raymond said. “He’s not coming back. There’s no way to revive someone with a bullet in their brain.”

  “I guess he’s with his roommate now.”

  “Right you are. Now, please excuse me. Dominic and I must talk privately.”

  Not a word was uttered as the group split into different directions, continuing their duties in silence. Everyone understood what would soon occur. It had happened before. And the merciless actions of their boss served as a reminder that stepping out of line was never the correct path. No. Doing the right thing meant partaking in the experiment rather than following one’s moral compass, and any alteration of that course was seen as moronic by coworkers. If any of the employees were to seriously consider their relationship to Soul Suites, they would find a strong resemblance between themselves and the subjects. Those men and women wearing lab coats and carrying guns and kidnapping the homeless and assisting with surgeries were just as much hostages as the individuals abducted into the experiment. Freedom was no longer a part of their lives. Even with the ability to go home to their spouses, take vacations, and watch their children grow up, the facility staff would never escape the grasp of Soul Suites. They would either be celebrated for their involvement in such a monumental discovery, or removed from society for their injustices, forever stamped as criminals by those who could not comprehend the significance of their research. While the reward was enough to draw committed employees into the facility, it was generally understood that in order to maintain sanity, members of the staff ignored the trapped sensation that came with the job. Being a hostage was much easier when imagining that they held the gun.

  For that reason, the men and women focused on the duties bestowed upon them while Dr. Raymond escorted a part of their team into an available trial room. The door was shut, the cleanup continued, but low whispers began to percolate through the cloud of dust and ash, like the sound of insects seeping through the fog.

  “Tell me something,” Dr. Raymond said intensely. “Was this your intention all along?”

  “Huh?” Dominic uttered, his eyes darting around the trial room like it was a dungeon.

  “I seem to recall you had some strong opinions concerning the roommate trials. You were pretty adamant about getting them banned.”

  “Whoa. Doc, a lot of us were. We all voted to ban it. That was not just me.”

  “Is that why you’re trying to fuck me over?” Dr. Raymond said, stepping closer to the short man.

  “What? No! I’m not trying to do anything like that.”

  Dominic glanced at the door, wondering if he could make it into the hallway before his boss had a chance to subdue him. He could not see a weapon on the doctor, though he had a frightening suspicion that a gun was concealed just beneath that white coat. And even if he was able to escape to the hallway, the armed guards would not hesitate to bring him down if instructed to do so by Dr. Raymond. He was dead in that room, doomed to die on the job, unless he convinced his boss that he was not responsible for the escape attempts.

  “I know you gave the chisel to Pearson! And I know you setup the explosion!”

  “Shit! It’s not true!”

  “Now, I just want to know why.”

  “Oh my god. I didn’t do it!”

  “Is it because of the roommate trial I ordered? Is that why? Tell me!” Dr. Raymond’s curled mustache was slightly skewed as he shouted at his employee. His arms flew through the air with great passion as angry words erupted from his mouth.

  Dominic stared at the man, terrified, desperate to plead his case, but unsure how to defend himself when the judge and executioner had made up his mind.

  “Please. I didn’t do it. I would never jeopardize this facility. These people are my friends. I don’t want them to go to jail or get hurt. And I don’t want to go to jail. Why would I expose the experiment when I’m a willing participant in it?”

  “I don’t know,” Dr. Raymond said with more composure than before. “I don’t know. Why did you vote against the roommate trial? Why did you slip that chisel into Pearson’s bed while you were cleaning his room? Why did you set off the explosion just after leaving the room, killing your coworkers?”

  “I didn’t do those things! It wasn’t me!”

  “Bullshit! There is proof that you voted against the roommate trial. And—”

  “I’m not saying I didn’t vote to ban that trial. I’m referring to—”

  “What is with you and that trial?” the doctor said curiously. “What is so bad about it? Why were you trying to get everyone to ban it?”

  “It’s cruel!” Dominic yelled. He was starting to lose control as the pressure grew unbearable. He was frustrated with the accusations and desperate to clear his name, yet nothing he did seemed to have any effect on his boss.

  “Really? That’s where you draw the line?”

  “And I don’t get the point!”

  “What’s not to get?” Dr. Raymond said. “It’s part of our experimentation with Hell. If you are a murderer, do you go to Hell?”

  “That’s what I don’t get. Soul Suites is designed to show people the afterlife, not Hell. It’s meant to give good people a chance to see deceased relatives, people they miss dearly or people they have never been able to meet. That’s a beautiful thing! I believe in that! Which is why I don’t get the whole murderer thing. We aren’t marketing this to murderers.”

  “Dominic,” the doctor said quietly, as if he were about to tell him a secret. “I’m a murderer. Did you forget that?”

  “But this isn’t for you! This is bigger than all of us. This is an incredible discovery! We’ve proven that the afterlife exists. Holy shit! That’s nuts! And then you told us, you said that we would get to a point where the machines could do everything for us, so that it would all be controlled. No more human error. No more people killing other people and then resuscitating them. That’s why I don’t get the roommate trial. It’s cruel and useless!”

  “You truly believe in this project, don’t you?”

  “Yes! I do. This is a wonderful thing. Do I have empathy for the homeless p
eople? Sure! But do I love that they are sacrificing themselves for society, for Soul Suites? Absolutely! For a mother and father to see their dead child again, I would kill a hundred homeless people that are doing nothing with their lives. I really, really want to be a part of this. I did not cause that explosion. Nor did I give Pearson the chisel. I want this to work.”

  Dr. Raymond walked over to a cabinet against the wall and opened the door, pulling out a box of supplies and setting it on a small table. Dominic watched him work, eyeing the man’s actions and wondering what was going to come next. Had he broken through to the cold doctor, pleading his case well enough that the words were taken as truth? Or was that researcher, as he pulled a small vial and syringe out of the box, merely buying himself some time to mull over the situation?

  “Doc. I love this job. I know I’m not as important as you or the Trial Techs, but I really feel like I’m a part of something. Something important. Please, just trust me.”

  The syringe was filled with a clear liquid from the vial, which Dr. Raymond returned to the box. He then capped the needle and sauntered over to Dominic, refraining from making eye contact until he was within a foot of his employee.

  “Would you like to know something?” the mustached man said as he held the full syringe at his side and looked at the short, trembling man. “The roommate trial exists because I’m planning on going to the afterlife.”

  “Well. I guess that’s fair. But it doesn’t seem worth the added cruelty.”

  “And I’m not coming back,” Dr. Raymond added.

  “What? Why not?”

  “In fact, once we have learned to control the specifics of the afterlife, such as, whether you see dead relatives and which ones you see, I will be taking my own life.”

  “Wait. What?” Dominic yelled, attempting to wrap his head around that sentence. “We can do that? Actually control what someone sees and experiences?”

  “Almost.”

  “And-and you’re going to kill yourself? And not come back? Jesus Christ. That’s why you created the suicide trial!”