Release Candidate

by Aziz, M.

  ‘Let’s not place much emphasis on where he was found yet.’

  ‘Alright, clear mind. If data can be read and written, it can also be edited; corrected.’

  ‘That’s the principle.’ he spotted a white coat walking into the ward. ‘Anyway, the clock isn’t about to freeze. You work out your stuff and I’ll get him wheeled.’

  ‘Good, go!’

  Dr Klimek put the phone down. He faced the doctor and shook hands.

  ‘The green geezers are coming to steal him for you.’ said the Scottish voice. ‘Is this guy, like, all there in the head? His breath doesn’t reek of alcohol, which deserves an award. He was lucky that a kind soul helped him out.’

  ‘You’re warm. You want to give me the low-down?’

  ‘Well, he’s not headed for the coroner, that’s for sure. But someone definitely wanted him there! Still in the land of nod, though. You’re free to stick in your alien probes or whatever but I don’t see him hogging a bed for long. Just need to wait for his internal alarm clock to go off.’

  Dr Klimek heard squeaking. Behind him two male nurses wheeled a bed and drip stand towards them. One held a brimful blue carrier bag with a trouser leg spilling out. The eyelids of the grey face in the bed made minute movements. An exploded firework of dry purple lines fused with the black stubble on the right of his scalp.

  As the nurses left, Dr Klimek moved closer. He gently squeezed an exposed olive shoulder, quickly retreating upon a rolling sound from behind. A muscular man in blue overalls stood leaning on the handles of a maroon-backed wheelchair.

  ‘Too many happy-liquid lovers have been gifted vans in the last hour.’ continued the other doctor. ‘You can grab some coffee if you don’t like it?’

  Hours later, in equal travel time to Dr Klimek’s to the sister hospital, they arrived in front of the revolving glass door.

  The overall unfolded the wheelchair. In seconds Tomás was back on it with the carrier bag draped around a handle. Without a goodbye Dr Klimek speedily pushed Tomás through the metal A&E ramp beside the glass door, towards the staff lifts. Upon pressing call the doors promptly opened. As another button push closed the doors he let out a deep breath.

  Upon reaching the floor Tomás’s head gently bobbed in response to rocketing down the corridor. Dr Klimek knocked on the far end door. It buzzed and clicked. Prof Barber opened it slightly, then fully. He looked down at Tomás. Then at the grey patches on Dr Klimek’s underarms. Prof Barber stepped out to unlock Tomás’s room. Fumbling, his key almost dropped. He helped Dr Klimek lift Tomás into the freshly laid duvet.

  ‘We had better run a unit pronto.’ said Dr Klimek.

  Prof Barber nodded.

  Dr Klimek left and returned minutes later with a device similar to a memory reader in all but thickness. He pressed it against Tomás’s forehead and flicked a switch. The display lit with thick white text on a black background. Words, trails of dots and percentages whizzed by. Prof Barber shook his head as he paced the room.

  ‘Foundation data structure isn’t damaged.’ said Dr Klimek. ‘Nothing in there looks worth breaking sweat over. But it could be better.’

  Prof Barber exaggeratedly breathed out. ‘Next door, in the cupboard facing the foot of the lounger, you’ll find something. I’m not a gambling man and I’m not about to start now.’

  Dr Klimek nodded and hurried opposite. He knelt before said cupboard and waved a hand about in its depth, eventually pulling out a red elastic-banded set of what resembled four large white matchboxes. A white sticker plastered across the opening of the top one had writing in bold red: “MHRA: Disqualified. Dispose.”

  He peeled off the sticker, curled it into a crumpled ball and flicked it into the bin. It attached itself on the rim.

  Inside the box was a dark-brown unlabelled ampoule hugged within the cardboard as if a jewel. From a cupboard behind him at head level he pulled out a syringe, green-capped needle, metal nail file and a swab. He tilted the box to reveal a valid date engraved on the ampoule’s base. Gathering all the materials into a hand he walked back into Tomás’s room.

  ‘You can do it, right?’ asked Prof Barber.

  ‘Alan, you do know we still have some tablets here? No need for an axe to pick what might be a small weed.’

  ‘If he wakes up looking clueless at the Gabinos, the next time you see me will be as a still on the news with video of my family crying! The Gabinos will close their ears to my promises now.’ he lowered his voice. ‘It’s not worth him breathing if this doesn’t have a happy ending. The priority isn’t him any more!’

  Dr Klimek cocked his head back like a chicken. ‘Alan, you’re not filling me with a warm glow here.’

  ‘That vial won’t harm anyone, alright? Those investigator clowns went easy on rubbish that really ended up creating lawsuits. They’ll come back crawling and begging in time. And it’s not as if we’re goody two-shoes already!’

  ‘To me it looks like you’re inviting a fall on the finishing lap.’

  ‘Just pick up the needle!’

  Dr Klimek shrugged. Tearing all the packaging, he filed the ampoule cap and assembled the injection. Prof Barber turned Tomás to his side. Dr Klimek rubbed the swab behind Tomás’s hip bone.

  The needle pierced fast and deep making the buttock wobble. The syringe was gradually freed of its thick yellow solution. They put Tomás onto his back.

  ‘See. Nothing!’ said Prof Barber.

  ‘Right. I guess I should put the Gabinos out of their trauma now?’

  ‘I’ll get Goldberg on it. You know where to keep your eyes.’

  Dr Klimek nodded. Prof Barber briskly made his way to Dr Goldberg’s office. He knocked hard.

  ‘Not locked.’ Dr Goldberg shuffled papers on his desk as the door opened. ‘I have seen you with a better face.’

  ‘Netted him. Dial.’

  ‘Please tell me nothing strange has happened?’

  ‘Just get on the line.’

  Dr Goldberg lifted his handset and held down a button. After a ring and a half the line came alive.

  ‘Hello. Dr Goldberg here.’ he looked up at Prof Barber who was biting a thumbnail. Breath on the line sounded feminine. ‘This feels like a re-run. But you can leave your house now. We do not seem to be in trouble.’

  Prof Barber made a circle of a thumb and forefinger.

  ‘Look,’ Marilyn exhaled, ‘can you just blurt it out?’

  ‘Say again?’ he locked eyes.

  Prof Barber put a finger to his lips.

  ‘Well,’ Dr Goldberg continued, ‘not a lot of time has passed.’

  ‘But it’s not normal that he just up and left, correct? I mean he wasn’t anywhere I know.’

  He rubbed his free palm across his forehead. ‘I think it’s best you come here first, Marilyn.’

  ‘Don’t give me any crap now! Is Tomás, you know?’

  He shook his head. Prof Barber leant against the wall.

  ‘Don’t think like that. I’ll see you soon.’ he gently replaced the handset. After a short pause he banged the desk. ‘Why do I never get to fucking deliver anything clear and positive?’

  ‘You value having a place to call home, don’t you?’

  ‘We should not keep them in the dark if all is not good. They’re not test animals. They shouldn’t have their tears kept in. Okay, so we’re not exactly shouting about what we’re doing but we didn’t do this just to fill our pockets, did we? If we cannot bring a smile to people’s faces it is better we work on something else. I do not want to go to the grave with this.’

  ‘Since when did you grow a heart? This is just some sort of teething, nothing more.’

  ‘You better hope so because I am not afraid to get the spotlight shining on this.’

  ‘I think it’s best you contribute to the solution if you value where you’re sitting.’

  ‘What happened to the charmer I admired?’

  ‘Look, I’ve got other things than to stop and chat. I want you and Klimek to be nowhere o
ther than with him. If or when he opens his eyes, mention football or something. If he doesn’t act like he usually does, bolt the door to the Gabinos or kick them out. Conjure some story.’

  Dr Goldberg’s face slowly turned red.

  Tomás’s eyelids flickered open as if butterfly wings. Matter in the misty white before him danced like carousel horses on a final spin. A face entered the rotation.

  ‘Are you still with us?’ whispered Dr Goldberg.

  Tomás rolled his eyes left. Dr Klimek held a depressed, smaller volume syringe with an orange-capped needle. The room stabilised.

  ‘You were a little too comfortable there.’ continued Dr Goldberg. ‘I need to pester you for a bit.’

  Tomás remained still. The air briefly felt cooler. Dr Klimek slipped outside.

  ‘Let us start with your last name.’

  No reply.

  ‘What kept you from staying in bed at home?’

  Tomás blinked.

  Dr Goldberg moved forward. The springs wheezed as he sat on the bed’s edge.

  ‘I am an easygoing person, you know that. But if you keep your mouth closed what can I do for you?’

  Tomás’s nostrils dilated.

  ‘It takes a lot more than what happened to you to turn into a mute, my friend.’

  The door opened. Dr Klimek stood beside Dr Goldberg.

  ‘Alan only told me that what he made me administer earlier wouldn’t do harm.’

  ‘He is starting to make this a one man dream. Now we are just his muscles.’

  ‘You or I couldn’t make a better call. Sure, he’s not all smiles at the moment but then neither are we.’

  ‘Anyway, looking at Tomás at the moment I see no problem letting the family in. I think you are just a bit shaken, right Tomás?’

  Tomás profiled into the pillow. He closed his eyes.

  ‘Movement is better than nothing.’ continued Dr Goldberg.

  ‘A few days here and he should lose his inpatient status once and for all.’

  ‘Do not uncross your fingers, though.’

  ‘Ow, my head.’ whispered Tomás. His mouth moved for a second after.

  The doctors looked at him wide-eyed.

  ‘God, this don’t seem like a fun place.’ he opened his eyes.

  ‘Please tell me you can remember what happened to you.’ said Dr Klimek.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ his hands pressed the mattress.

  ‘Stay down, Tomás.’ Dr Goldberg patted Tomás’s stomach. ‘We will fetch you something to ease your body soon. So, I’m sure you did not sneak out for a late supermarket trip?’

  ‘I just couldn’t stay in.’

  ‘Could you be a bit less vague, Mr Gabino?’ asked Dr Klimek.

  Tomás’s chest rose and fell.

  ‘What’s the point? It’s over. I’m out of danger. I just want to be in my own bed. I’m not comfortable in this damn place.’

  ‘Tomás, do not avoid the question.’ said Dr Goldberg.

  ‘Please. I have a headache.’

  The doctors shrugged and nodded at each other. They exited. Dr Klimek locked the door.

  ‘Well, he is not talking about missing jail food.’ continued Dr Goldberg.

  ‘I wish he was. Looks like rather good acting to me.’

  ‘As long as he is not raving there is no need for panic.’

  ‘Alan won’t be pleased if we’ve nothing to report. I think we should coax him a little.’

  ‘Let us keep being easy on him to keep his jaws loose. When Marilyn arrives he will be obliged to break his silence and that will be whom to direct our attention on.’

  ‘I didn’t think of that.’

  ‘Do not mess with him until she comes. He is not a liability while he is like this.’

  ‘How are you for a trip down the canteen? I didn’t get a chance this morning.’

  ‘You go recharge. Besides, we can’t leave this area unmanned.’

  Dr Klimek nodded and walked down the corridor.

  Dr Goldberg scanned his card to the treatment room. Inside he switched on the machine, pulled out the keyboard and sat. His fingers drummed on the palm rest as a loading bar filled up. At the login screen he typed into two text fields.

  After a brief black screen he was presented with a brown and orange three-column layout. He clicked a grey hard drive with red question mark icon on the left. A dialogue box appeared with circular option buttons for “Verify storage” and “View memory scans”. He selected the latter then clicked a small icon labelled with the current date.

  The display switched to a scrolling mass of numbers and special characters. At the bottom of the screen he clicked a yellow pencil with magnifying glass icon. The display froze. Holding the mouse he began wiggling it, clicking and typing.

  With an elbow on the palm rest and his chin resting on its thumb his mouse movements gradually accelerated throughout the course of an hour. Every so often he shook his head.

  Buzz. Dr Klimek held up a hand as he entered.

  ‘I hope you found something in that mass.’ said Dr Klimek.

  ‘Well, no games to play on here. You know what? There really is nothing stored to break sweat over. But there are holes.’

  ‘Say again?’ he walked forward.

  ‘How, do not ask me, but there lacks data where I expect it. Which suggests the error correction of the transfer should have been conservative. It cut down what are now so-called strange strands.’

  ‘Then he should be starting to become unaware of things, right? I figure he perhaps suddenly woke up not feeling sure and safe at home.’

  ‘That is valid. It is also possible the donor brain is trying to pull things out of the waste basket. If you see?’

  Dr Klimek looked at the screen.

  ‘It is best to stick with what we see for now, though.’ continued Dr Goldberg. ‘This is just a hypothesis, but what we captured does not accurately mirror the latest scan result. It is just notable.’

  ‘If you’re not wrong, how come we’re seeing things on screen that only appear to be Tomás’s?’

  ‘Maybe the machine cannot pick it up. Buried but there under Tomás, so soaked in that it is unreadable. I would not be surprised if Barber is playing dumb about this and you dosed Tomás with his long-abandoned Alzheimer’s thing. A big axe for an insect if I remember correctly. You had yet to set foot in here then.’

  A knock came.

  Dr Klimek scratched his chest. Dr Goldberg pressed the monitor’s power button. Dr Klimek walked to the door and opened it. Marilyn, Alberto and Estela stood in mournful poses.

  ‘You better not turn us away again.’ said Marilyn.

  Dr Klimek looked back. Dr Goldberg nodded.

  They stepped out of the room and stood before Tomás’s. Dr Goldberg hesitated putting a hand in his pocket. He pulled out the key and slowly penetrated the lock.

  ‘My Tomás, he no in pain, yes?’

  Dr Klimek touched her shoulder. Dr Goldberg felt a vein in his wrist throb as he turned the key.

  Tomás turned to look ahead. His eyebrows quivered like caterpillars. A wide smile dawned on his face. He slowly raised his arms.

  Marilyn ran forward. She hugged his head. He felt her baby-soft cheek against his. She abruptly pulled away.

  ‘What’s all this?’ she said. A tear drop was caught in a duct.

  ‘Long story.’

  Estela walked forward. ‘You are Tomás, yes?’

  ‘Tomás who?’

  ‘Go on, show your bastard colour, then!’ shouted Alberto.

  ‘I am... Gabino, Tomás. The last name is golden!’

  The doctors shook their heads. They exchanged smirks.

  ‘Now is not the time!’ shouted Marilyn. ‘I want to know in detail what got you here.’

  ‘A big white van with lights and sound.’

  She slapped his shoulder. He laughed. She almost did.

  ‘Tomás, my boy. If something is not right, do not keep your mouth shut. These people will not harm you.
You know that.’

  ‘I just felt like working up a sweat, that’s all. A couple of shitfaces came up to me looking for white powder vouchers or something.’

  ‘What, so you took some change out just as chinking background music?’ asked Marilyn. ‘You weren’t even patched up here!’

  Tomás looked away. Marilyn held his chin to pull his head back.

  ‘Don’t be difficult!’ she scrunched her eyes. ‘Tell us. It’s to do with what’s been happening recently to you, isn’t it?’

  ‘Son. Your mother couldn’t keep it from me.’

  ‘Did you come across anything that ended up surprising you?’ asked Dr Goldberg. ‘Hand on heart, what you say will not leave these walls.’

  ‘Look. It’s no big crime to take stuff from my own mother’s purse and check out the sky, even in those kinds of hours! I should’ve checked my fuckin’ horoscope before I left, alright? If I didn’t know whose body this was I wouldn’t have come in here with my recent bullshit before! Better coming to my senses now than never. I just want to be back in my bed!’ he heeled the mattress.

  ‘Alright, Mr Gabino. Don’t get wound up.’ said Dr Klimek. ‘But we know you’re not optimal and I’m not talking about what I see.’

  ‘That so? Then why are you wasting your breath here?’

  ‘Could we have a few minutes of privacy, please?’ asked Marilyn. Her eyes locked onto Tomás’s.

  The doctors hesitated before complying with mirrored movements.

  Tomás put his hands on his head.

  ‘Look you. Skin purple here, there.’ Estela’s voice broke.

  He stared back at Marilyn. The wateriness of her eyeballs resembled spinning circular saw blades.

  ‘Just chill now. Yeah, I don’t look pretty at the moment but it ain’t happening again. For sure.’

  ‘Don’t try and make this sound like a small thing!’ said Marilyn.

  ‘But it is nothing more than that!’

  ‘My boy, even if this is no major thing you have to spit it out. It is best to rule everything out.’

  ‘Dad, don’t make a fuss about it. The only reason I’m lying here is because of someone else.’

  ‘That’s what worries me.’ said Marilyn.

  ‘You love skewing what I say, don’t you? Ow.’ his teeth gritted.

  ‘Tomás!’ shouted Estela.