The Conversion

by DK Andrews

lost, makes me feel the need to wipe away any tears that I want so badly to form, but often can’t.” She covers her eyes with her hand and takes a moment.

  Her words touch my heart, and my thoughts turn to Nicole. What shall I tell Nicole today at the session? Do I tell her about everything that I have seen? What if she asks me to save her? My bracelet is still deactivated, so technically, I can do it, if I’m careful enough. But what about Sophie and her parents? I shift my gaze to Sophie again. I can hardly see her beautiful face with all the medical equipment in the way.

  I ask Dr. Kismen: “How long has she been like that?”

  “It’s been over three months. She can’t go on for much longer. In this pilot program, she’s our youngest patient. Actually, that’s one of the reasons she’s been chosen. She’s got a full life ahead of her. I hope the life-transfer is a success.”

  “If she’s the youngest patient, why is she getting only 30 to 35 years? That’s not really fair, is it? Why is she not getting my life instead? I’ve got 50 to 55 years, don’t I?”

  “Well, in an ideal world, that’s how it would be—Sophie would receive your life. But as I said to you before, her parents could only afford the life of someone who’s older.”

  “Money decide everything,” I admit pitifully.

  “In this world, it does,” she agrees. “Since Sophie is not responsive, she has to stay at Novus full time, and that, unfortunately, comes with the high price tag as well. Her parents are staying here with her—they don’t leave her side even for a minute.”

  “I can imagine,” I reply. Silence hangs in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shatters on the ground. I just can’t keep my eyes off Sophie and her parents. Once a happy family, their lives have been divided into “before and after.”

  “Her room has a nice setup,” I say, trying to put a positive spin on things.

  “Yes, we have a few kids rooms in Novus. We wanted to add some happiness to them.”

  She flashes me a rigid smile and then says, “Alina, we need to get going.” She points to the exit door.

  One last time, I scan Sophie’s hospital room where so many emotions and pain concentrated. “We have one more stop before heading back to Ultima,” Dr. Kismen says, shutting the curtain and leading the way.

  All my thoughts are mashed together into one messy porridge. If Sophie is receiving Nicole’s life, maybe that’s why this Mentior glitch brought them together?

  “Come on,” Dr. Kismen says in a sharp whisper. “Hurry up!”

  “Goodbye, little Sophie,” I say, waving at the curtain. I follow behind Dr. Kismen, trying to use her body as a shield to avoid the prying eyes of employees passing by.

  By the elevator, Dr. Kismen puts her hand my shoulder, as if trying to comfort me somewhat. She doesn’t say anything, but her facial expression reveals that our next stop will likely shake me to the core.

  “After you,” she says, holding the elevator door open. I give her a soft smile.

  We reach the floor, and I can’t help but notice the same clean and dustless setup. Nurses smile as they pass. Dr. Kismen picks up speed, her footsteps clip-clopping down the bleached tile hallway, demonstrating that she has no time to chat with anyone. We finally enter the room; it has a very similar vibe to the one that we were just in a minute ago. White blinds cover one wall. I’m terrified to see what’s behind it.

  “They will be here shortly,” she says without looking at me as if talking to herself.

  I will be patient and will not ask who she’s referring to.

  Dr. Kismen stops, approaches a wall and pushes a button for the blinds to go up. Through the one-sided glass, I can see into another hospital room. This room resembles a fancy coffee shop somewhere in a world-class city. There are flowers, beautiful paintings, and leather chairs. On the wall is a plasma screen and the bed looks comfortable.

  “Any minute now,” Dr. Kismen sings.

  I squeeze my stomach to dull my jitters. My vision goes blurry from anticipation, and then I see the door opening. A woman in her late 40s or early 50s walks in slowly. I don’t recognize her. Right behind her is a person in a wheelchair. I squint to see better. I must be dreaming—I finally draw the parallel between the person in front of me and Mentior. I’m paralyzed—and I can’t look away. The wheelchair stops, and he stares, seemingly at me, despite not being able to see me through the mirror side of the glass. All of his energy and good looks have been sucked out of him by the deadly disease; his face is pale as a white sheet of paper. His body is polluted by the cancerous cells, every move he makes appears to leave him in tremendous agony. His muscles, his bones, his organs—all have difficulties hearing his brain’s command.

  He turns away, perhaps ashamed of his struggle. I touch the glass and tears run down my face. I want to scream and tell him that I don’t care if he fades and withers. My heart will still fill up with tenderness and passion at the mere sight of his face. A hospital gown doesn’t scare me.

  “Gabriel,” I say, trying to regain my balance.

  “Yes,” Dr. Kismen confirms. “It’s him.”

  I place my hands on the glass and put my head down.

  “Now you know everything,” Dr. Kismen says, putting her hand on my back. “Gabriel does exist, and he’s the receiver of your life. His parents are very wealthy; they were able to secure a long life span for their son. They actually went through a lot in the past ten years—”

  “—Deanna, please,” I cut in. “Can you just give me a minute? I need to process everything.”

  She walks away and sits in a chair by the desk.

  With great pain, I lift my head up and scan Gabriel’s hospital room through the glass, taking in every detail. Gabriel’s mother and one of the nurses gently put him into the bed, getting him ready for the session. He turns his head toward the glass again and seems to look right at me.

  “Are you sure he can’t see me?” I ask.

  She gets up and walks over to me.

  “No, he can’t,” she says confidently.

  “Why is he looking at me, then?”

  “That’s something I can’t tell you.”

  “He’s definitely looking at me,” I say. Our eyes meet, and suddenly I know. I can see it clearly: I can’t lose him. “What do you need these observer rooms for anyway?” I ask. “To spy on your patients?”

  “No, no—not to spy,” she answers.“Just to keep everything under control.”

  A doctor walks into Gabriel’s room and starts examining him, and plugging different cords into him.

  “Is the preparation going to start now?” I ask.

  “Not yet,” she says. “They have to run a bunch of tests on him first. But we need to start moving, now.”

  “What kind of tests?” I ask her as we start walking out of the room.

  “Health tests: blood work, urine tests, blood pressure.” She signals for me to hurry up.

  With my head down, I follow.

  “You know Gabriel doesn’t have much time left,” she says as we walk.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The current prognosis is that he will make it to The Conversion. But with cancer, you never know.”

  At this moment, I have an urge to punch Deanna in a face. Gabriel will make it. I know it!

  “He will make it to The Conversion!” I yell defensively. “I know he will!”

  Dr. Kismen starts to speak but then stops.

  “What?” I say defiantly. “You want to say something? Please go ahead!”

  “I was just going to say that if he does make it to The Conversion, you will die. That’s it—that’s all.”

  The truth hurts. I stand in the middle of the hallway—my face, rigid with tension. I hold my hands tightly in fists.

  “Can I help you find something?” a husky male voice says to me.

  “Oh! I—um…” I have to speak, but I can’t. This man in a white lab coat intimidates me. I can’t make eye contact with him. He looks like my c
hemistry teacher from school, and I hated that guy.

  “Ah, George, she’s with me,” Dr. Kismen says as she rushes back to me and grabs my arm.

  “Hello there, Deanna! How have you been? What are you doing here?”,

  “I’m fine, but in a bit of a hurry,” she says, trying to keep it short.

  “And who’s this young lady with you?” he asks.

  “She’s my intern,” she says with a fake, tired smile

  “That’s fantastic. Well, I will catch up with you later then.” He shows off his white teeth with a smile and walks down the hall, when out of the blue, he turns and says, “Deanna, aren’t you supposed to be at Ultima right now?”

  I feel dizzy.

  “I’m headed there right now, George,” she says rigidly, holding tightly to my arm. “We will catch up later, OK?”

  We walk swiftly toward the exit and out to Dr. Kismen’s car.

  “That guy was so annoying,” I complain while shifting around uncomfortably in the passenger seat.

  “Who, George?” Dr. Kismen asks.

  “Yeah! Does he really need to ask so many questions? I thought we were going to get busted.” I breathe out, and can still feel the adrenaline pumping through my body from our little adventure.

  “Oh, George is all right—he’s harmless. A great doctor and a great colleague.”

  “He’s too old for you,” I say wryly.

  She chuckles. “Thank you, yes, I’m aware of that. I’ve never looked at him that way. I don’t really look at men anymore, after Damien’s passing.” She takes a deep breath. “Alina, do you remember the day at Ultima when I was upset and rude to you? It was during one of the preparation