The Virus

by Steven Spellman

  The doctor sighed so deeply that she envisioned him sighing his very spirit from his body. He was more tired than ever. “Okay, Miss Hanson. Whatever you want. We’ll have eligible contestants shipped directly to your door in neatly wrapped packages in no time.” He threw his hand in the air as if dismissing her from his mind as he turned and stormed out. She could hear him scoffing.

  Delilah was just about to shoot back that if he wanted to be sarcastic, he could have this damn baby himself, but she didn’t get the opportunity because he was already exiting the room.

  “I choose how this happens!” she yelled as he disappeared.

  The doctor murmured to himself as he shuffled heavily down the hallway, “Yeah, I wish I could say the same.”

  Chapter 21

  Before his last visit, it had been a full week since Delilah had laid eyes on the doctor, but by the time Geoffrey saw Dr. Crangler again, nearly two weeks had passed, and those two weeks had seemed like an eternity. It was already difficult being deprived of all human interaction except the doctor’s and his orderlies, but with every passing day the loneliness grew exponentially. Geoffrey began to feel as if the white walls were closing in on him, as if this was what a hell of eternal nothingness must feel like. It was during this time that the doctor made his unannounced appearance, but, thanks to Geoffrey’s new abilities, it was not completely a surprise. Before the locking mechanism unlatched, Geoffrey already knew who was at the door…as well as what he was thinking. Still, when the doctor entered the room, neither man spoke for almost five minutes. Eventually, Dr. Crangler opened his mouth, but it was Geoffrey who first broke the tense silence.

  “Yes, Dr. Crangler, I can still hear what you’re thinking, and yes, I do know that you’re as worn out as you look, and believe me, you do look extremely worn out.”

  Upon hearing this, the doctor slumped his shoulders even more than they were already. He didn’t want to deal with this, but what could he do? Slowly, tiredly, he tottered nearer to Geoffrey. Geoffrey, meanwhile, gestured for the doctor to have a seat across from him in a simple folding chair that was recently added to the room.

  “Yes, I see your room has one or two new…furnishings,” he was going to add that I didn’t approve of, but decided against it. Normally, he was the head guy in charge, the top authority, and took great pains to make sure no one forgot it. These days, though, he was just no longer himself, and he didn’t know when, or if, his old self would ever return.

  “Well, you would’ve seen, you do have like a thousand monitors right there in that nice main office of yours, except your mind has been pretty…well…busy lately. Anyway, it’s not much.” Geoffrey said,. “Nothing like all the colorful stuff Delilah has in her room, per se. But hey, beggars can’t be choosers, right?” Geoffrey’s tone held no hint of sarcasm or anger. In fact, he sounded as if he was simply making a few unemotional observations.

  Dr. Crangler was anything but unemotional. His eyes and mouth were wide open with amazement and even a touch of ill-restrained fear, so much so, that even Geoffrey was startled. He had never seen the doctor, never even imagined that he could look, so unprofessionally human.

  “You…how…what?” the doctor sputtered.

  “Why don’t you have a seat, Dr. Crangler?” Geoffrey gestured toward the folding chair a second time. The doctor was about to decline the offer yet again, but Geoffrey interrupted. “You might as well sit down, Doctor. I already know what you’re thinking, obviously, so there’s no need for you to keep up the facade any longer.” The doctor’s eyes were as large as fifty cent pieces and the tightly stretched lines around his mouth said that he was more apprehensive than ever. “That’s right,” Geoffrey continued, unabated, “I can now hear you, and everyone else, even in your big office at the end of this maze of hallways…and yes, even behind that thick, steel door of yours.” Geoffrey paused to let the statement sink in. “Oh, and by the way, the movie was X-Men.” The doctor’s eyes narrowed and he canted his head back a little as his angst was replaced by confusion. “The movie you thought you may’ve seen, the one where you got the idea that the steel door to your office could block telepathy, it was X-Men, the sequel I think, but don’t quote me on that, though. Magneto got his hands on a steel helmet to block Professor Xavier’s telepathy. It’s been years since I’ve seen that movie, and actually, the only reason I remember it at all is because you were trying not to think about it. You know exactly what I’m talking about, Dr. Crangler.” Geoffrey said, “And what’s more, I’m probably the only person in this whole facility that knows what you’re going through. Try to think of it like that, instead of intruding into your thoughts, I mean really know what you’re going through, because I can tell how it feels to you.”

  Geoffrey gestured again at the seat, and this time, the doctor obliged. Although reluctantly, he recognized the validity of Geoffrey’s argument. He was just too exhausted to ‘keep up the facade’ as Geoffrey had so eloquently put it. He sat down heavily on the narrow seat of the foldout chair, raised his reddened, weary eyes to Geoffrey’s and let out a deep sigh that said more than any combination of words would’ve ever done. Another lengthy silence ensued, and this time, it was the doctor who finally broke the quiet.

  “Well, for what it’s worth, you shouldn’t feel too bad about your situation, Geoffrey. I’m not in a room like this all day, but, except for my brief outings, mostly to the complex’s kitchens, of which you probably already know about, I’d suppose, I’m in this facility for the vast majority of my day…” the doctor mused for a moment, “of my life, actually.” He paused, “Which brings me to the fact that, like you, I, too, am being monitored every hour of the day.” Dr. Crangler motioned toward the hidden camera. “Which means that, unfortunately, I can’t be seen idle talking with you like this for too much longer. The powers that be already think that I’m not fit for the job anymore, and it certainly wouldn’t look good for me to be confiding or taking advice from a patient, even if that patient can read minds, and probably especially since that patient can read minds.”

  “Which brings me to something I’ve been wanting to test out. Something I think may help both our situations. Actually, the more I think about it—and believe me I’ve had nothing but plenty of time to think around here—I think it could be a big help. It may even be the answer, or at least part of it, that could bring everything together. But I should probably warn you, it’s going to take some faith on your part, and it at first it’s going to be a little…different to experience.” Dr. Crangler hadn’t a clue what to make of Geoffrey’s vaguely expressed idea, but at this last admission, he thought he may understand; and he wasn’t quite sure he wanted anything to do with it. Even if Geoffrey wasn’t able to read Doctor Crangler’s mind, he would’ve still been able to read the newly surfaced trepidation on his face. “Listen, Dr. Crangler, I won’t shit you. What you think I’m talking about is what I’m talking about, and it won’t be fun at first. In fact, if you’re anything like me, it’s going to be damn scary at first, but I really think it could help things move along here. In fact, I really can’t see any other way.”

  He looked at the doctor for a moment, hoping that his sincerity was evident, before he continued, “Look, you know I can hear your thoughts, and by that alone, I know something of what you’re up against, what happens if you fail. I know what has to happen with Delilah and I think I can help. Besides, what could it hurt to give it a try? It would seem as if we’re all on the losing end of a full scale intergalactic war anyway, right?” Geoffrey gave the doctor another silent moment to think it over. “I’ve experienced it and it didn’t hurt me, at least as far as I know. It was definitely a new experience, but it didn’t hurt me, and if I’m correct, it won’t hurt you either. And if I’m right, it may even change you like it changed me.” At this the doctor’s ill-restrained look of concern gradually changed to fascination. Before this period in his professional life, he would’ve never given a moment’s consideration to what he knew Geoffrey was propo
sing, but now, with all that had been weighing him down, it was, at least, an option.

  After seeming to consider Geoffrey’s as yet unspoken proposition, the doctor abruptly stood, scolded his patient for nearly luring him into his auspices, signed to the camera for the room’s door to be electronically opened, and disappeared into the hallway outside. The lock latched back into place noisily behind him. Geoffrey showed no surprise. He turned away from the camera so that the assistants wouldn’t see the lack of surprise on his face. He sat like this, turned away from the camera, until the sound of the heavy door’s lock again filled the room some time later and Dr. Crangler returned. “If you can still read my mind, then you already know what all that was about.”

  “Yes, I can still read your mind, Doctor, and yes, I do know what all that was about.” He could and did, and because of it, he knew even before Dr. Crangler bolted from the folding chair so unceremoniously, that he had just put on an elaborate but necessary show for the spectators watching. If Dr. Crangler’s superiors saw him breaking down and taking advice from one of his patients, it certainly wouldn’t bode well for him. After he left the room, Dr. Crangler had his assistants temporarily disable the camera, under the pretense that he intended to interrogate Geoffrey in private for his insolence. In another odd turn of events, the doctor’s recently highly unusual behavior helped aid his plan more than he could’ve ever anticipated. When his superiors got word some time later that he had ordered the monitoring of one of his star patients temporarily halted, which was completely unheard of, considering recorded footage of the two patients could yield an invaluable edge in this war against The Virus, they naturally assumed he had taken their ultimatum very seriously and was doing whatever it took to get results. No one, from the assistants to the superiors, suspected that something very different was taking place between Geoffrey and Dr. Crangler.

  “Okay, are you ready, Dr. Crangler?” asked Geoffrey, poised as if ready to strike the doctor with a bolt of lightning (which, as the doctor was about to find out, was not far from the truth).

  “Y-yes.” The Dr. Crangler stammered. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

  This was his facility. He had performed procedures not only on humans but also alien life forms that would’ve aroused the professional envy of just about any other doctor on the face of the planet. As such, his pride would not allow him to show Geoffrey the whimpering, frightened child that was just behind the cool facade that he was struggling desperately to maintain. Geoffrey knew all this, but he also knew that what he was about to do was similar to the childbirth that the doctor was trying to elicit from Delilah. There was no way to truly be prepared for such a monumental event. Besides, Geoffrey knew that if he didn’t test this experiment now, the doctor may lose heart later and he would be stuck alone in his damned room for another two weeks before he caught sight of any living human being besides the assistants who took care of him.

  “Should we hold hands, I mean, should there be physical contact involved?” Dr. Crangler asked, still trying not to sound like a frightened adolescent.

  Geoffrey smiled faintly. “You know, Doctor,” he answered, “one of the benefits of being around somebody who can read your mind is that you don’t have to fake it like you’re not scared. And no, I don’t think physical contact has much to do with it. Mr. Reynolds certainly didn’t hold my hands. But, whatever, let’s get started. Just one piece of advice, though, like I said, it’s going to be very interesting at first, so just remind yourself of that and try not to panic.” Dr. Crangler nodded his head and waited. Geoffrey closed his eyes tight and almost immediately, something like television or radio static filled the doctor’s head. Just as Geoffrey had warned, it was, indeed, interesting. The experience of having foreign sound projected into his head, not his ears, but into his very brain, was enough to cause the usually reposed doctor to clasp his head frantically with his hands, just as Geoffrey had back at his first experience. The static sound was not loud, but rather unnervingly clear, since it was not being filtered through physical eardrums. The sound was as clear in the doctor’s head as his own thoughts, which made it all the more surreal. It was as if his brain had been hijacked and made to play a tape of unknown origins.

  After a few seconds, Geoffrey opened his eyes, and grabbed Dr. Crangler’s hands, simultaneously stopping him from assaulting his cranium and halting him from jumping out of his seat in panic. The static sound stopped immediately, and the doctor quickly calmed and refocused his eyes. “I told you it would be new,” said Geoffrey, “But take a moment and feel. Are you hurting anywhere?” The doctor took a moment, and found that he wasn’t hurting. He thought that he was hurting a moment earlier, having an outside influence penetrate the wiring of his brain must have caused it to send mixed signals to his body, but now, he felt fine: A little shaken, but otherwise, okay.

  “All right, we’re going to try it again, Dr. Crangler. Hey, you got it good I think. Mr. Reynolds damn sure didn’t give me time to get used to it.”

  “Why does it sound like static in my head?” the doctor interrupted.

  “I don’t know, really. I’m involved I guess, but I’m not what you call an expert on this thing. It was the same way with me at first, though. I learned from my father that the body’s senses work off electrical impulses or something like that. I’m sure you’d know more about that than I would, and so do radios and televisions. I think it’s like that, the signal trying to become clear or something.” Geoffrey shrugged his shoulders. The doctor nodded during the explanation. Afterward, he watched Geoffrey thoughtfully. He was impressed; Geoffrey’s theorem sounded plausible.

  “So, you ready to try again, Doctor?”

  “No.” the doctor answered truthfully, then bowed his head so he could concentrate on staying calm.

  Geoffrey didn’t close his eyes this time, but the static sound returned to Dr. Crangler’s head nonetheless. Now that the doctor was better prepared and much calmer, he noticed that the sound was not quite static, at least, not erratic white noise. It had an organization to it, a vague underlying pattern that was becoming clearer with every passing moment. Gradually, that pattern became like a voice. Then that voice, something like words.

  Then a phrase, a repeating phrase—“Cnn ya err e ow…cnn ya err e ow…can ya ear me ow…can you ear me ow…can you hear me now?” The doctor smiled, despite himself.

  “Good,” the soundless voice answered into his head “Very good. I see that you can understand me. I was skeptical about whether this would work or not.”

  “Well, it does work.” The doctor answered aloud. “But, let’s talk the old fashioned way for a moment. I think I’m going to need a little while longer to get used to this.”

  “Fully understandable. I wish I had had time to acclimate to the situation more thoroughly myself.”

  Dr. Crangler gave his patient a wry look. The strangely accurate explanation of what the static from earlier may’ve been, the sudden proficiency of vocabulary, could this transformation actually be making Geoffrey…smarter? “I don’t know, Doctor.” Geoffrey answered the unspoken inquiry. “I certainly have been thinking more, I don’t know…clearly, than I usually do lately, but I figured it may just be the stimulus sterile environment. You know, you can learn a little about yourself when this is all you have to look at all day.” Geoffrey motioned around him.

  “When did this new ability come? As if it weren’t phenomenal enough that you can read thoughts, you can project them now as well?” the doctor asked. He still looked haggard and worn. Geoffrey’s telepathy was amazing, but even it wasn’t able to give the doctor another desperately-needed shave and shower. At least the curious glisten of discovery was returning to his weathered eyes.

  “Well, it didn’t really come to me, per se. I kind of worked on it. It’s not like I have much else to do here, you know. And so I focused on hearing what was in my head a little better, and after about a week…I’m assuming it was a week, I don’t know how long it was, re
ally…or so, it actually worked. You heard how the words I projected to you became gradually easier to understand? It was like that. Like when you hear a faint, foreign sound in your house, if you sit still and be really quiet, you can hear it better. Well, I guess that’s what I’ve been doing, sitting still—for a really long time—and listening really hard.”

  Dr. Crangler recalled the image on his monitors of Geoffrey squinting and massaging his temples in concentration. Before he could halt it, the thought crossed his mind of what else Geoffrey may be able to do with a little more time to practice, and it sent an involuntary cringe through his body. There were new abilities that stood to be unlocked, myriads of dormant areas of the brain that no longer had to remain unusable. It would usher in a new horizon for the human race, but there was no way to estimate the price that would need to be paid for such a game-changing breakthrough.

  “I agree completely.” Geoffrey answered, even though the doctor had posed no audible question. “With everyone reading everyone else’s minds, all of us speaking the same mental language, what would separate us from the aliens? We’d have a global community…just like they, we’d be able to share all known information instantly…just like they, and then eventually, we wouldn’t see any reason not to try to conquer other areas of the universe…just like they.”

  “Perhaps,” the doctor conceded, “but we wouldn’t be simply different bodies, hosting a single super brain…like they.”

  “As you say, perhaps. Only perhaps. If every human on the planet was of the same accord, wouldn’t that make us of a single mind, a single great consciousness? Back to the Tower of Babel, and all that sort of thing? And, as I recall, that didn’t end all that well.” Geoffrey watched the doctor as the same old apprehension from before returned. “But we don’t have to think about that now. We have a more pressing issue on our hands: This other patient of yours, Delilah. I know she’s already told you that the only way she’ll cooperate is if she chooses the guy. Well, perhaps, with this special new skill set of mine,” he didn’t sound as if he was certain he was prepared to assume this kind of responsibility. “maybe, just maybe, I can help persuade her.”