Release Candidate

by Aziz, M.

The woman walked off.

  ‘This doesn’t seem right, Tomás.’ she poured tea from the transparent jug into tiny white cups.

  ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘We should head back to the Tube. Your face is getting sweaty. It must be what you’re taking. I only came out because you pretty much pushed me.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ despite a slightly shaky hand a sip was manageable. Setting the cup down he blew a breath. ‘Jay Breeze.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just felt like saying that. I want to see... Haroon?’ he seemed to ask himself. ‘Yeah, Haroon today, though.’

  ‘No, I think not. He’ll understand.’ she reached inside her pocket.

  ‘Look. Don’t fuck with me!’ he banged a hand on the table. The cups bounced on their saucers.

  The café went silent.

  Tomás heaved and puffed his cheeks. His throat gargled. Red-eyed, he quickly opened the tea jug and ejected into it a small stream of frothy, colourless liquid. It blended into the dark brown. He felt Marilyn tap his back.

  ‘I’m fine.’ he waved. His other hand tried to shoo her napkin away from him.

  ‘Do you want an official statement?’ he shouted around the café. ‘I am fine!’ his voice was hoarse from stomach acid. The clink and clang resumed. Marilyn turned red. She hushed him. They finished the small amount of tea in their cups. Marilyn asked for a last assurance before they got up.

  ‘We can skip the house stuff today, but I have to see him.’ said Tomás. ‘We’ll pop in before he gets a bite. He always goes on time.’

  ‘But then that’s it!’

  ‘For certain.’ he nodded.

  ‘Shall we relax back at home for now, or what?’

  ‘No, no. Let’s find some greenery to enjoy a while in. I want to breathe air today, no matter what. That’s what I need. You lead the way.’

  Marilyn squeezed an arm around him. After a few aimless minutes they only had to look across the road to see a bushy entrance.

  A customer watched as Haroon tapped tick boxes and nail-scribbled on a tablet. Haroon placed a mobile phone box inside a custom-fit carrier bag. He handed it to the customer with a toothpaste commercial smile. Several minutes later Haroon nodded at a colleague and walked out of the shop. Right past Tomás.

  ‘Haroon!’ shouted Marilyn.

  He turned back. ‘Good to see you! Shouldn’t you be partying?’

  She gestured towards Tomás. Haroon followed then took a step back.

  ‘I’m here to buy a phone.’ Tomás smiled. ‘Your friend tells me you can advise me well.’

  Haroon made a face as if to verify his primal thought.

  Marilyn nodded.

  ‘Oh. Yeah.’ Haroon improvised. Looking back he saw his colleague adjusting the alignment of display units. ‘Yeah.’ Quickly moving forward he hesitantly, discretely shook Tomás’s hand. ‘Same place?’

  Tomás nodded.

  A short walk down and left in a broken formation led them to the library. Marilyn hovered around bookshelves in the vicinity of where the men chose to sit.

  ‘Wow. Look at you, man!’ whispered Haroon.

  ‘Good to see you too.’

  ‘What happened to the plan?’

  ‘I know. I’ve just been feeling a bit funky, so I thought I’d come now carefully then make your evening free.’

  ‘Funky?’

  ‘Forget about it. You?’

  ‘Better. Better now. So what’s the urgency, bro? Not that you need a reason.’

  ‘Nothing in particular than to show you the improved me.’ he laughed. ‘I figure you can help spread the word to those who won’t rat on me. Now I’m in front of you and can suss me. You know the deal with this.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah I know. We do know some funny people even if they don’t show it. Monifa’s okay, though. You remember Monifa, right?’

  ‘Yeah. And she is.’ he nodded. ‘I’m not going to be able to meet you too often for the moment, as you know. But we can use what you sell. You know, maybe change my name on your mobile, address me a different way when we talk. Quite a few people know... Well, kind of know that I’m a goner. I’m sure my mum, before she got a handle on it, spread word up the branches, and you know how they come out of the woodwork, the rotten eggs. I’m probably being over the top but I feel I have to.’

  Haroon continued to run his eyes over Tomás. ‘Man. In some small way I still see your old you.’

  ‘Ah well, there you go. Master puppeteer has his unique signature.’

  They both laughed. Marilyn’s slow walk around saw her pass along the same shelves.

  ‘I guess the six-feet nightmares are over then, bro?’

  ‘They’ve still got an eye on me, got me downing some rubbish. But otherwise yeah, I gave the old reaper the slip.’

  Haroon drew a long breath. ‘So here I am sitting in front of the future, woah! That means I can put off my appointment with the afterlife, right?’

  ‘If the suits allow. I’m just a lab rat for now.’

  ‘Better that than falling apart, begging for tablets you can get some place else.’

  ‘True. Anyway, your belly must want elsewhere.’

  ‘Cool. But you really not interested in an upgrade? We’ve just got true-colour holography in.’

  Marilyn award-winningly slunk outside.

  Tomás laughed. ‘I love upgrades.’ he lowered his voice further. ‘You know no warden can touch me now!’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘You know, war... Er.’ he closed his eyes. ‘Warden?’ he mouthed to himself.

  ‘Oh.’ Haroon scratched his cheek. ‘Don’t worry, bro. Must be rusty.’

  ‘Pick something not too pricey, not too crap and I’ll come by. You know your stuff.’

  ‘Don’t push yourself now.’ he whispered. ‘Rest is the key. I’ll head out in a few.’

  ‘Rest.’ he pondered it as if it were a question. ‘Yes, rest.’

  Tomás punch-patted Haroon’s back and nodded.

  Outside, Tomás found Marilyn slowly walking up the street. She turned her head back every so often. Suddenly he rolled and closed his eyes. His knees softened causing him to slap against a wall. Marilyn ran down. Getting to him seemed to take an eternity.

  ‘Upgrades.’ he mumbled in her grip.

  Marilyn controlled what resembled fear. She lifted him up. A handful of passer-bys looked and moved on.

  ‘Can you move your feet?’ she asked.

  ‘You know I learnt that long ago.’

  She eased him like a sleeping bag against the wall. Standing on the curb, she ping-ponged her head both ways and periodically back at Tomás. The eventual lit orange on a black cab drew her to the road. She waved a hand. The cab stopped and they entered.

  ‘D’ya need the window open, mate?’ said the driver’s amplified eyes via the mirror.

  Marilyn carefully placed Tomás beside her.

  ‘Leave it.’ mumbled Tomás.

  The back of the driver’s shaven, pink head and his mirror view eyes acted in concert upon Marilyn’s instruction to the hospital. The cab began moving. Marilyn ran a hand across Tomás’s shoulder. She examined her palm for dust.

  ‘It must be just that junk. As you said.’ Tomás whispered. His head fully reclined on the leather. ‘I just need an antacid, don’t make a big thing.’

  ‘I need peace of mind about this.’

  ‘It’s not rocket science how things happen in the morning and tail off by night. Then, I’m conked out.’

  ‘But still.’

  They looked at the driver’s eyes. The pupils focussed on the road.

  ‘I’ll take a yelling from them.’ she continued. ‘I want them to tell me not to make a big thing! What does it matter if they see you in a week or now?’

  ‘There’s Dr Chandran?’

  ‘Agh, she still refers to antique textbooks from the late Nineties!’

  Through Tomás’s window the surroundings became familiar. The driver’s route was neither short
or long but nevertheless exercised all the digits of his meter. Three jolting speed bumps signalled roughly three minutes to their destination. Tomás’s face momentarily shone grey. Marilyn held his hand as colour slowly rushed back. The driver’s eyes revealed relief.

  ‘Main entrance, love?’ asked the driver.

  ‘Please.’

  The back of the driver’s neck creased. The cab stopped at the steps leading to the revolving glass door. Marilyn pulled a note out of her pocket before the driver could speak.

  ‘Here, keep all that.’

  ‘Oh. Ta very much. You’ll be alright now, mate.’

  Marilyn slowly helped Tomás out. He shrugged her off and walked up. His gritted teeth warned her a few paces back. Via a lift they ascended to the floor where they first met the Professor.

  Following a set of heavy doors a middle-aged, brunette nurse sat engrossed by her computer. Marilyn coughed. Tomás walked behind her.

  ‘Hi. Professor Barber?’ asked Marilyn.

  ‘Do you have a card or letter?’

  ‘I need to see him now. We’re meant next week.’

  ‘Right, okay. Well, the Professor’s name isn’t on the board here. But if you’d like to see someone from his team there’s many people before you. A&E is down the side of the main entrance otherwise.’

  ‘Dr Klimek?’

  ‘No, Dr Liang.’

  Marilyn huffed. ‘No. I mean, I guess.’

  ‘Dr Goldberg, perhaps? Look, do you want me to help you or not?’

  ‘Yes, yes. Dr Goldberg!’ she jumped.

  ‘Okay. Well his room is occupied at the moment. And there’s about nine people ahead of you.’

  ‘I’m not worried about that.’

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Er, it’s him. Just there.’ she turned around to see him sitting. ‘Gabino. Tomás Gabino. No H.’

  ‘He has set foot in here before?’

  ‘Yes.’ she nodded as if her head would fall off.

  ‘Odd.’ she tapped. ‘No one by that name whatsoever. Are you sure about this?’

  ‘One hundred percent!’

  The nurse tapped again, each key press was harder. She shook her head.

  ‘When the doctor comes out I’ll have a word. No promises.’

  ‘Thank you, thank you!’

  ‘Don’t worry, that’s alright. Please be seated for now.’

  Marilyn beside him felt like a shield. He periodically looked at the clock’s sweeping minute hand. The treatment doors pulsed with his every heartbeat. Suddenly a door opened. An elderly woman stepped out. A female doctor behind waved her goodbye. As soon as it closed another opened as if in a play. Dr Goldberg stepped out. He looked at his tablet. Marilyn pulled Tomás towards him.

  ‘Tomás.’ said Dr Goldberg. ‘You’re not due today!’ he shook their hands.

  Shoes squeaked across the floor.

  ‘Dr Goldberg!’ the nurse panted. ‘This, this gentleman needs to see you urgently. Shall I put him down?’

  He peered over Tomás’s shoulder. ‘I’ll take him in now.’

  ‘But what about Mr ...?’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ he interrupted. ‘This gentleman is priority. I can squeeze him in. His notes are withheld from the system at the moment.’

  Mr ... let out an audible groan from a corner.

  ‘Please, this way.’ said Dr Goldberg. Marilyn and Tomás complied. ‘So, I’m sure you’re not here for a friendly talk? Couldn’t you get through to Professor Barber?’ he shut the door.

  ‘We didn’t have his number on us.’ Marilyn replied, beating Tomás to it. ‘He’s been having a few issues.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s just the prescription now.’ said Tomás. ‘I’ve said and done a few odd things. So it seems.’

  ‘Go on.’ Dr Goldberg leaned back.

  ‘He said something about J. B’s.’ said Marilyn. ‘He said something about his neck. I don’t feel clued in.’

  ‘I think I said something about a warden. But maybe it just came out? You know, like when you say a word wrong by mistake. It happens. She just seems to be blowing it up.’

  ‘A warden?’ Dr Goldberg picked up a stylus. ‘That would be interesting. But you’re also aware of the source of donation for that to influence you... As for the medicine, as you are aware, all medicines have potential for extra consequences. I feel bad you seem to be experiencing something but there is nothing else I can give. It’s just a short course which you have to just see through.’

  ‘As we thought.’ replied Tomás.

  ‘Let’s play safe, though.’ he put the stylus down. ‘We’ll take some blood, image your head and we’ll see what shows. I’m sure there’ll be no follow-up. In the study it was seen that, what they call residual behaviour, is a rare temporary happening. What I mean is the limbs were independently doing certain actions which took a small amount of time to shake off. Body memory was what they wrote. Have you ever seen a comatose patient?’

  They shook their heads.

  ‘Certain actions a comatose patient will do unconsciously despite their brain being asleep and possibly damaged to some level.’

  ‘So, you’re saying my unconscious mind is... You said I was all cleared up, no chance of any crap like this!’ Tomás motioned to stand.

  ‘Tomás. Relax. I’m telling you that everything is going fine. We have reports. What I am simply saying is that your unconscious mind, maybe, has yet to clear up any small rubbish left. Inconsequential rubbish, when put together. Odd thoughts that are lined up to soon be forgotten. But as I said, we’ll run some tests. You have nothing to fear under Barber.’

  Tomás sighed.

  ‘Well. Thank you.’ said Marilyn. ‘Seems we overran your clinic.’

  ‘I would have done the same.’ he reached for his slab of blood request forms. Boxes were ticked and he scribbled his name.

  ‘Don’t you want to check my chest or something?’ asked Tomás.

  ‘Why? Do you have any pain or breathing problems?’

  ‘Well, no.’

  Dr Goldberg ripped off the form. He then filled out a yellow A4 form with illegible description.

  ‘You don’t need transport, do you?’

  ‘No. I’m handling being careful.’

  ‘Mrs Gabino... I’ll call you Marilyn, I know you well enough now.’ he smiled. ‘Keep an eye on him. Husbands don’t listen, be an iron lady for a few days. But not always like my ex! How are you managing day to day?’

  ‘Well, apart from drama at a café, I’m fine. We were going to look at some places today but it went wrong.’

  ‘Well, there is definitely no need to get up and go like that. Just don’t take many months. I’m saying this casually, but Barber, well, you don’t want to see him red-faced.’

  ‘Thank you.’ she nodded.

  ‘It was nice seeing you again but I do have others to see. Please don’t let this ruin things for you. I did actually see something come up on the brain before transferral but it was like making a fuss over a cut. Barber and Klimek have a better understanding of the steering wheel than me.’ he shook their hands. ‘If you do have any problems again it’s better you try to reach Barber first.’ he showed them the door.

  Outside, Mr ... stood up ahead of his name call.

  ‘I am sorry, sir. You may come in now.’ said Dr Goldberg.

  ‘Bloods, downstairs.’ said Tomás. ‘Always trainee fuckers... I hate ‘em!’

  Marilyn glanced at the yellow A4. ‘This is just in that room down there.’

  Tomás followed her vision. On trying to enter the door he found it locked. Shortly afterwards it opened inward. A large black male nurse in blue uniform looked at them. He examined the yellow sheet and waggled a finger.

  ‘Have you been here before?’ the nurse’s high voice was ill-matched to his stature.

  ‘Baba... Babatunde? No. Shit! You guys look all alike to me.’ Tomás laughed.

  ‘Excuse me?’ his arms folded.

&nb
sp; Tomás looked at Marilyn vacantly. She shook her head. The nurse picked up a hand scanner.

  ‘This is a basic reader. We just place it on your forehead here for a minute. Painless. I don’t get to look at what it records as instant reading is disabled on junior staff versions, so you’ll have to wait for your doc to contact you. If you’d like to get comfortable now, sir?’

  Marilyn guided Tomás to the commode-looking chair.

  ‘If you don’t mind me asking,’ the nurse flicked the switch, ‘Babatunde?’ It lit up with a garbled display against Tomás’s head.

  ‘You said that name... Is it a name?’ asked Marilyn.

  ‘Beats me.’ he sighed. ‘I just feel like saying random things, I guess.’

  ‘This is why he’s here.’ she said.

  ‘Well, this device will reveal all. It could be nothing. Just sit still now.’

  Less than a minute passed before the scanner clicked off.

  ‘Ace.’ he added. ‘I’m going to shove this on your doc’s personal disk space now. Thank you.’

  As Tomás and Marilyn walked into the empty lift they remembered to keep their distance by the lift’s silver walls. They eyed their misty, malformed reflections staring back from beside each other. Tomás lost the gaze-out and looked at the floor.

  ‘How are you for the train?’ asked Marilyn.

  ‘Get me a chocolate bar after the needle and you’re on.’

  Marilyn used the hand rail to guide a step forward. Tomás looked up. The doors opened.

  ‘I don’t see anyone I know.’ said Marilyn. ‘Hold my hand for a little?’

  Tomás smiled.

  At home Estela saw Tomás and Marilyn through the dust-speckled living room window. She opened the door as Marilyn took out her keys.

  ‘Few minute more I was going phone!’ she scratched her neck.

  ‘Easy, Mum.’ he raised his hands. ‘We didn’t even see a cardboard box out there.’

  ‘God say stay with mother, no?’

  Tomás laughed. They went into the living room. He heard Gus pattering about behind the kitchen door.

  ‘So, is over?’

  ‘No, Mum. God wants me to relieve you by trying harder next week.’ he looked at Marilyn. She nodded.

  Estela smiled. ‘I go put kettle!’ she left the room.

  They settled on the sofa. Tomás puffed his cheeks and exhaled. Marilyn rubbed an eye while reaching for the remote control.