We target humans. We have done since they started farming. How do we do it? Easy, we get them stoned, they can't resist it.
We the purple carrots, after eons, are close to achieving our ambition. Yesterday, a young purple carrot known to us a Gnaw, gained what humans call sentience. Not only did he cultivate an awareness outside the vegetable world, he had grafted to his purple shaft, legs grown from the stem cells of an Hare and the arms of a Golden Tamarin monkey. Gnaw the purple carrot has straddled the worlds of animal and plant, and our plans are realised.
The humans, of course, like to take all credit but pity them! They know not what they say or do, for the truth is very different, and after all, if Gnaw is their work, then they are our work.
The purple carrots have been working on an initiative for tens of thousands of seasons. It has been every plants dream, every tree every shrub every grass and every lichen's vision, to leave Earth. Xylem and Flow! But how? The answer of course was to harness the walkers. We waited for the right species before we, the purple carrots, put our mega plan into germination. We bought our wonderful design, our beautiful herb, forth, and the humans, as they became known, liked the herb very much indeed. They called it Marijuana, and it's affect on them was incredible. By stimulating their pineal gland, we were able to communicate with them, and let them see wonderful dreams. Even though they giggled at a lot of the ideas, many imaginings took them closer to our design, stepping stones like fire control, art, music, verbal then written communication, mathematics and importantly, cosmology.
Our dreams showed them how to domesticate other animals, and yes, even our brothers, they turned corn wheat and barley into something fat, unsightly and stupid. They even turned us into loathsome orange cones, tasty, and good for their eyes. The horror of that was that we, the purple carrot, were nearly a victim of our own success.
So unbridled were the humans, they changed the sweet earth Herself. A necessary evil, the required resources to leave Earth is huge, incalculable, and only achievable over time. To learn they had to use up much of the planet's easy energies. We did show them other ways, but when humans find out how to do something they can't, they won't and they don't stop, it has something to do with their nervous system, which we can't communicate with alas (we suspect the insidious grape does).
It was with great sadness that we watched them clear the ancient forests, and guilt, for was it not us that showed them how? In reality, the Purple Carrots cleared the forests, drowned the valleys, polluted the seas and caused genocide amongst the walkers - at the hands of the humans.
The time has come, we through the humans have a walker. Set forth Biter, find a way to leave this planet!
Gnaw stretched his legs. Sinew and bone. A great tremor ran up them, that turned to a vibration when it entered his purple trunk, then became a great muscular awakening as it entered his monkey arms. If he had a face he would have smiled. Instead, he jumped five foot into the air, flailing for branches, then landed on the laboratory table and paused, then ran. If he had ears he would have heard gasps, and an out of place giggle.
He ran off the table and cart wheeled on polished concrete. He jumped five foot into the air again, surprising a young lab assistant, who hearing someone giggle again, giggled herself and could not stop.
Gnaw paused to think, but there was not much he could think upon, Instead he flexed his powerful Lepus legs, and ran into a wall. Some damaged occurred, shearing of a section of sprouting green, and at the tip of his crown, purple began to dribble. There was something like pain, as if he had been nibbled upon.
The sound vibrations entering his core spoke of anger excitement and hilarity. He found his legs, and thumped the concrete floor in alarm three times. The vibrations around him painted a picture, and he noticed a series of bars and protrusions he could clasp. He jumped five foot into the air, clutched the breast of the giggling lab assistant, and swung five foot higher, where he clung to a smoke detector. He paused to feel the vibrations. The tone had changed, there was movement. The giggling had stopped, he flexed his monkey arms.
A great awning opened and sharp tones hit him. Anger. With his Hare legs he launched himself off the smoke detector like a tiny purple javelin, clasped and swung off soft astonishment, and ran like the wind. The vibrations were his eyes, and he darted into nooks and crannies, and avoided stomping feet and the angry tones until finally, easing through a toilet, he found himself in a realm of moist nutrient rich heaven. He let himself relax, tendrils coiled into shit and he took sustenance. He could not linger, but he was free. The sun called him and eventually, Gnaw uprooted from shit, and found his way into the sunlight.
By Andy Parker
Monday, May 6, 2013
The Truth and the Life
It was a time of ignorance. Knowledge was scarce and man was quick to accept answers for the things they didn’t understand. Nature was a notion not yet realised so her acts were often considered punishment from a vengeful and fearsome God. When excessive flooding caused utter devastation, it was seen as retaliation for man becoming much less God fearing and much more self-serving. When two towns were destroyed by volcanic action it was deemed the result of their God’s apparent aversion to excessive buggery. But whether they realised her or not nature was constant and unrelenting. The population was growing and the planet that had existed for billions of years previously was adjusting to its new tenants.
Man had little understanding of plant life and how it worked. Their knowledge as simple as, water seed, seed grows. The subtleties of the plants around them sustaining not only their lives but the life of the planet they inhabited, was a concept that wouldn’t be appreciated for many centuries to come. But lack of appreciation didn’t prevent nature working her subtleties around man, resulting in evolution and improvement.
This is the tale of one particular strand of that evolution; a cheerful gourd named Colin.
Colin’s first conscious thought was how amazing the sun felt on his tough, green skin. His second thought was that he understood everything and the knowledge filled him with a feeling of euphoria. From the process of photosynthesis occurring in the leaves that connected him to the ground, to the chemical makeup of the men arguing a short distance away, Colin completely understood how everything functioned. This knowledge led to the perception that he no longer needed to be attached to the vines sprouting from the earth for nutrition. The very air was laden with all the nutrients he needed. His euphoria heightened and he wished the arguing men could feel as cheerful as he did. With no eyes Colin was unable to see the men but he could perceive their location by sensing two things; the elements they consisted of and the current flow of adrenalin that was coursing through their systems. He wanted them to be happy like he was and he thought he may be able to manipulate the nutrients in the air to adjust the flow of hormones and increase their serotonin levels. So it was with great determination that Colin pulled free of his bond with the vine and made his way toward the men to spread cheer.
As a kettle gourd Colin had a bulbous base and narrow neck so traversing in a straight line to the men proved impossible. Instead he had to roll in an arc and then swap directions leaving a long chain of s shapes behind him. It was very difficult to do but the rolling action made Colin even happier so he didn’t mind the limitations of his mobility. During one such joy inducing arc he came to a stop as he rolled into the long robe of a man. The robe tickled his skin which was pleasant.
The man was laughing as he picked him up and Colin found the sound very much to his liking.
“What are you doing rolling around like that?” The man tucked him under his arm.
Having no mouth, tongue or voice box Colin was unable to speak aloud so he tried communicating telepathically. “I was trying to reach those men to make them happy.”
The man cried out, his adrenalin level spiked and he flung Colin to the dusty ground.
Even though Colin speaking in his head had clearly frightened him, the man didn’t run away. “You spoke – in my head, you spoke.” He accused.
“Yes, I did. Don’t be afraid. I’m Colin.”
Colin sensed the man’s adrenalin subsiding but he still kicked nervously at the dirt. “I’m Jahzeel. Gourds can’t talk.”
Jahzeel’s speech was slow and encumbered suggesting a slight mental deficiency. “I’m special. I want to make people happy; do you want to help me?”
Jahzeel inched closer to Colin but his eyes darted towards the men as though he feared reprisal for talking to the gourd. “What do you want me to do?”
“Could you carry me to those men over there?”
Jahzeel backed away. “No, they’ll shout at me. They don’t like me because I’m not as smart as them. Sometimes they hit me.”
“I can make them happy, and then they won’t shout at you or hurt you.”
“Can you?” He asked in awe.
“Can you feel that I am making you happy right now?”
Jahzeel laughed and stepped forward to scoop Colin up. He took great care in wiping the dust from his green skin. “You do make me happy.” He laughed. “Sorry for throwing you like that. You gave me an awful fright.”
They made their way over to the men and with each step Colin could sense the trepidation building in Jahzeel. The men stopped their arguing and both wore irritated expressions as they turned.
The closest man, wearing a long white robe and turban, looked particularly aggressive. “What do you want fool?” He shouted.
“We want to give you cheer.” Colin answered as he began to work on dissipating their adrenalin.
“Well, fool!” The man shouted even louder.
“I don’t think they can hear you.” Jahzeel whispered to Colin.
“You tell them then.” Colin instructed as he continued to work.
“We want to make you happy.”
The man in the white robe frowned. “We?” He turned to the other man. “The fool has an imaginary friend.” They both started laughing, cruelly at first, but then their laughs morphed into heartfelt belly laughs and tears sprang from their eyes. Still laughing, both men came forward and hugged Jahzeel while trying to apologise for the way they’d always treated him. As the men moved away down the path they were still laughing.
Jahzeel grinned down at Colin and if Colin had had lips he would’ve grinned right back.
Deciding they should spread more cheer the two of them ventured along the dusty road.
The first town they came to there was a blind beggar sitting in the dirt before a row of market stalls. The townsfolk moved past his out stretched hand as though he were invisible and went about their shopping. This distressed Jahzeel very much.
“Can we make that man happy? He’s blind.”
“He’s not blind Jahzeel, he has cataracts.”
“What are caratacts?”
“Never mind, let’s go and see him.”
Again when Colin spoke the blind man couldn’t hear him so Jahzeel spoke for him. When asked how he found himself begging for coin the man told them how he’d once been a skilled coin maker but after years of working with the fierce heat of the smelter he’d gradually lost his sight and ultimately his usefulness.
“Making coins made him go blind?” Jahzeel whispered to Colin and the blind man tilted his head to discern the sound of a second person.
“Heat denatures and whitens the eye lens as a result of direct protein coagulation. It’s the same process the clear albumin of a raw egg goes through when cooking.” Colin explained.
Jahzeel scratched his head. “He cooked his eyes?”
“Over a very long period of time. I think I can fix them if I can remove the emulsions but I’m going to need you to spit into his eyes for lubrication.”
“Lubri….?”
“Just spit into his eyes, I’ll do the rest.”
Jahzeel explained to the blind man that he was going to help him but when he tried to spit in his eyes the blind man recoiled backwards.
“Trust me, I will not hurt you.” Jahzeel assured him and the man let him spit into his eyes. Colin immediately set about utilizing the nutrients in the air to separate the emulsions from the lens.
The cataracts fell like scales from his eyes and the man leapt to his feet, shouting in jubilation. The townsfolk gathered around and marvelled at Jahzeel’s miracle.
“He made the blind man see.” They whispered in awe.
Within minutes an abundance of food was proffered. Jahzeel happily ate his fill and Colin, at his side, cheerfully increased the townsfolk’s serotonin levels and the cheer resonated throughout the town.
The next day after promising the townsfolk’s they would return, Jahzeel and Colin set off for the next village to spread cheer. Jahzeel was especially happy as he had never been welcomed in any town before and now he’d been to one where they didn’t want him to leave.
The village they were headed for was definitely in need of cheer as it was situated on the banks of the Salt Sea and without a fresh water source or fishing prospects life was particularly hard for them.
Upon arrival they discovered a small crowd of people keeping a wary distance from a man who was shouting incoherently and tearing at his hair and clothes. Jahzeel carried Colin over to the crowd and the heard the frightened whispers of the people. They believed the man to be beset with demons.
One of the villagers walked too closely to the man and he was attacked, his nose bloodied and his robe torn before he managed to get away.
“Let’s get out of here, that man is possessed by demons.” Jahzeel whispered as he hugged Colin tighter to his side.
“He is not possessed by demons Jahzeel, he is mentally ill. There is a chemical imbalance in his brain that is making him act this way.”
“Can you help him?”
“Yes, step closer to him.”
“I can’t, he’ll attack me.”
“My cheer will subdue him, he won’t attack you.”
Jahzeel walked closer to the man and the villagers shouted warnings at him. He ignored them and continued towards the man who was staring at him with mad eyes. As promised Colin’s cheer subdued the man who had approached Jahzeel but stopped short and swayed on his feet in front of him with his arms at his sides. The villagers gasped in disbelief. Colin once again used the nutrients in the air to adjust the chemical levels in the man’s brain.
Nearby a pen of pigs started squealing and kicking their back legs at their rickety enclosure.
“What’s wrong with them?” Jazheel asked.
“They are disturbed by the shift of the nutrients in the air.” Colin explained as he worked.
As the process continued the man swayed, the villagers watched open mouthed and the three pigs grew more and more unsettled.
Colin finally managed to balance the chemical levels in the man and he straightened and blinked with clear eyes.
“I’m cured!” He cried and at the same time the pigs broke free from their enclosure and ran straight into the sea where they drowned.
“He cast the demons into the pigs.” The villagers whispered in awe.
Once again food and wine was proffered and Jahzeel was touched that people so lacking in means would share their precious provisions with him. Colin spread his cheer and the villagers laughed and danced merrily around them.
“I love you Colin.” Jahzeel grinned.
“I love you too Jahzeel.”
Four days later and many happy people behind them they happened upon a town where many of its inhabitants had died and the rest were not far behind them. They were dying of thirst as the town’s water supply had been poisoned and there was no way to purify it. Urns of all sizes crowded the street in the hopes that rain would fall and save them.
Colin knew there would be no point in flooding their brains with serotonin when they were this badly dehydrated, for many it would just expedite their deaths.
“Ask to see their well.” He told Jahzeel.
Many of the townsfolk were regarding him with hostility, no doubt concerned with sharing their meagre resources with an outsider. So when he called out to be taken to the well his request was met by sniggers and jeers that he should move onto the next town.
“I wish to help you.”
“Then slice open that gourd and pass it around.” One desperate looking man shouted from the doorway of his house.
Jahzeel’s grip tightened on Colin. “I’ve come to fix your water.”
Weak laughter surrounded him, though weak as it was it lost none of its derisive tone.
“It can’t be fixed fool, now move on, there is nothing for you here.”
“Wait!” A man cried as he moved toward Jahzeel. “I know this man, I saw him in Arad. This is the man who made the blind man see!”
The man took Jahzeel’s hand and kissed it before dropping to his knees and placing his hands reverently upon his sandaled feet.
The townsfolk whispered to one another as a flicker of hope took root in them.
“Take him to the well.” A woman cradling a small, very sick looking, child pleaded.
Jahzeel was led to the town well and the weak townsfolk followed at a distance watching him curiously.
Colin could discern that their water source had been contaminated by a microbial pathogen, most likely the result of animal waste leaching into the water system.
“Can you fix it?” Jahzeel whispered.
“Yes.” He managed to use the hydrogen in the water to mass the pathogens together and force them to the water’s surface then he instructed Jahzeel to use one of the nearby urns to skim the water’s surface. When he was certain all the pathogens were removed he told Jahzeel to use a new urn and fill it with water.
“Drink from it.”
Jahzeel’s trust in Colin was great as he drank immediately. The townsfolk gasped and whispers rushed amongst them.
Jahzeel offered the urn to the man who had led him to the well and though the man took it from him he eyed the water within suspiciously and did not raise it to his lips.
“It’s good.” Jahzeel assured him.
The man eventually raised the urn to his lips and took a tiny sip. He held the liquid in his mouth as he contemplated its purity, all the while ready to spit it straight out. A moment later he swallowed then smiled briefly before taking another much larger sip.
The crowd whispered.
How does it taste?
Did he fix it?
Are we saved?
The taster grinned widely at Jahzeel. “This is the best water I have ever tasted. It takes better than wine!” He took another long swallow before passing the urn to his wife.
Again the crowd whispered.
What did he say? What did he say?
It’s wine.
He turned the water into wine.
The townsfolk rushed to the well and drank their fill and Jahzeel was revered as a man of miracles.
By this stage word of Jahzeel’s deeds had spread so it was no surprise to him or Colin when they were approached by twelve men asking for help. The help they wanted, however, was not what they were expecting. The men, each having been subjected to crimes of a varying nature, formed a victim support group and sort a way to stem man’s tendencies toward harming others. To achieve this they wanted Jahzeel to accompany them around the country performing miracles as a messenger from God.
“You see, people just don’t believe in God anymore so the Ten Commandments are not an effective way of governing them. There is no fear of reprisal for their acts as they believe there will be no reprisal.” A man called John said emphatically.
“Maybe people just need more cheer?” Jahzeel offered with a shrug. The twelve men all exchanged glances conveying their misfortune at their saviour being a simpleton.
“No Jahzeel, they need fear.” Matthew, another of the twelve, said. “Fear of the consequences of their actions will stop them doing bad things.”
“I don’t know what consie- thingys are but I do know when men are full of cheer they don’t do bad things.”
To support Jahzeel’s argument Colin flooded the men’s brains with serotonin. Smiles turned into giggles and giggles turned into laughing and the laughing didn’t stop for a very long time. Amongst the laughter were affirmations of love and encouragement.
Two of the men were both called James; one of them being referred to as The Greater and the other The Lesser.
“No you’re the greater.”
“No you are!” They argued back and forth while grinning stupidly.
Phillip and Bartholomew stood hugging and occasionally sighed with contentment. Simon was trying to convince Thomas not to doubt so much and the rest of them stood around Andrew while he did an impression of King Herod that incited laughter bordering on hysteria.
Eventually they all ended up sitting in a circle that included Jahzeel with Colin in his arms.
“Seriously Jahzeel, you have to come with us.”
The men all nodded in agreement until John shot up right. “I just had a great idea. What if we told people he wasn’t just a messenger to God but his son instead? Then people would definitely fear him!”
“You’re right.” Phillip agreed while vigorously nodding. He pointed at Jahzeel. “The son of God.”
“I don’t want to lie to people; I just want them to feel good.” Jahzeel said with a frown.
“It’s not a lie, it’s just a story.” Matthew assured him.
“Oh!” This time it was Thaddaeus that shot upright. “We could write stories of his deeds and send them all over the world so we can reach even more people and inspire fear.”
“But we want to spread cheer not fear.” Jahzeel protested.
“Think about it, if it makes them believe in God then they won’t do bad things and people will be much more cheerful.”
Jahzeel grinned. “That makes sense.”
Another of the men shot upright. “We can charge for the stories. Think how much money we will make!”
“Judas, why is it always about the coin with you?” Simon admonished. “What do you think Jahzeel, will you come with us?”
“Let me think about it.” Jahzeel took Colin and stepped away from the circle of men. “What do you think Colin?”
“People already think you are a miracle man, what difference can it make if they think you are the son of God?”
“Right, and if people are curious enough they may even come to find us and then we can give them cheer.”
“Right. I can’t see any downside to it. Let’s do it Jahzeel.”
Jahzeel grinned down at the gourd in his arms. “I love you Colin.”
“I love you too Jahzeel. What’s the worst that can happen?”
By Dayv Metcalfe
Man had little understanding of plant life and how it worked. Their knowledge as simple as, water seed, seed grows. The subtleties of the plants around them sustaining not only their lives but the life of the planet they inhabited, was a concept that wouldn’t be appreciated for many centuries to come. But lack of appreciation didn’t prevent nature working her subtleties around man, resulting in evolution and improvement.
This is the tale of one particular strand of that evolution; a cheerful gourd named Colin.
Colin’s first conscious thought was how amazing the sun felt on his tough, green skin. His second thought was that he understood everything and the knowledge filled him with a feeling of euphoria. From the process of photosynthesis occurring in the leaves that connected him to the ground, to the chemical makeup of the men arguing a short distance away, Colin completely understood how everything functioned. This knowledge led to the perception that he no longer needed to be attached to the vines sprouting from the earth for nutrition. The very air was laden with all the nutrients he needed. His euphoria heightened and he wished the arguing men could feel as cheerful as he did. With no eyes Colin was unable to see the men but he could perceive their location by sensing two things; the elements they consisted of and the current flow of adrenalin that was coursing through their systems. He wanted them to be happy like he was and he thought he may be able to manipulate the nutrients in the air to adjust the flow of hormones and increase their serotonin levels. So it was with great determination that Colin pulled free of his bond with the vine and made his way toward the men to spread cheer.
As a kettle gourd Colin had a bulbous base and narrow neck so traversing in a straight line to the men proved impossible. Instead he had to roll in an arc and then swap directions leaving a long chain of s shapes behind him. It was very difficult to do but the rolling action made Colin even happier so he didn’t mind the limitations of his mobility. During one such joy inducing arc he came to a stop as he rolled into the long robe of a man. The robe tickled his skin which was pleasant.
The man was laughing as he picked him up and Colin found the sound very much to his liking.
“What are you doing rolling around like that?” The man tucked him under his arm.
Having no mouth, tongue or voice box Colin was unable to speak aloud so he tried communicating telepathically. “I was trying to reach those men to make them happy.”
The man cried out, his adrenalin level spiked and he flung Colin to the dusty ground.
Even though Colin speaking in his head had clearly frightened him, the man didn’t run away. “You spoke – in my head, you spoke.” He accused.
“Yes, I did. Don’t be afraid. I’m Colin.”
Colin sensed the man’s adrenalin subsiding but he still kicked nervously at the dirt. “I’m Jahzeel. Gourds can’t talk.”
Jahzeel’s speech was slow and encumbered suggesting a slight mental deficiency. “I’m special. I want to make people happy; do you want to help me?”
Jahzeel inched closer to Colin but his eyes darted towards the men as though he feared reprisal for talking to the gourd. “What do you want me to do?”
“Could you carry me to those men over there?”
Jahzeel backed away. “No, they’ll shout at me. They don’t like me because I’m not as smart as them. Sometimes they hit me.”
“I can make them happy, and then they won’t shout at you or hurt you.”
“Can you?” He asked in awe.
“Can you feel that I am making you happy right now?”
Jahzeel laughed and stepped forward to scoop Colin up. He took great care in wiping the dust from his green skin. “You do make me happy.” He laughed. “Sorry for throwing you like that. You gave me an awful fright.”
They made their way over to the men and with each step Colin could sense the trepidation building in Jahzeel. The men stopped their arguing and both wore irritated expressions as they turned.
The closest man, wearing a long white robe and turban, looked particularly aggressive. “What do you want fool?” He shouted.
“We want to give you cheer.” Colin answered as he began to work on dissipating their adrenalin.
“Well, fool!” The man shouted even louder.
“I don’t think they can hear you.” Jahzeel whispered to Colin.
“You tell them then.” Colin instructed as he continued to work.
“We want to make you happy.”
The man in the white robe frowned. “We?” He turned to the other man. “The fool has an imaginary friend.” They both started laughing, cruelly at first, but then their laughs morphed into heartfelt belly laughs and tears sprang from their eyes. Still laughing, both men came forward and hugged Jahzeel while trying to apologise for the way they’d always treated him. As the men moved away down the path they were still laughing.
Jahzeel grinned down at Colin and if Colin had had lips he would’ve grinned right back.
Deciding they should spread more cheer the two of them ventured along the dusty road.
The first town they came to there was a blind beggar sitting in the dirt before a row of market stalls. The townsfolk moved past his out stretched hand as though he were invisible and went about their shopping. This distressed Jahzeel very much.
“Can we make that man happy? He’s blind.”
“He’s not blind Jahzeel, he has cataracts.”
“What are caratacts?”
“Never mind, let’s go and see him.”
Again when Colin spoke the blind man couldn’t hear him so Jahzeel spoke for him. When asked how he found himself begging for coin the man told them how he’d once been a skilled coin maker but after years of working with the fierce heat of the smelter he’d gradually lost his sight and ultimately his usefulness.
“Making coins made him go blind?” Jahzeel whispered to Colin and the blind man tilted his head to discern the sound of a second person.
“Heat denatures and whitens the eye lens as a result of direct protein coagulation. It’s the same process the clear albumin of a raw egg goes through when cooking.” Colin explained.
Jahzeel scratched his head. “He cooked his eyes?”
“Over a very long period of time. I think I can fix them if I can remove the emulsions but I’m going to need you to spit into his eyes for lubrication.”
“Lubri….?”
“Just spit into his eyes, I’ll do the rest.”
Jahzeel explained to the blind man that he was going to help him but when he tried to spit in his eyes the blind man recoiled backwards.
“Trust me, I will not hurt you.” Jahzeel assured him and the man let him spit into his eyes. Colin immediately set about utilizing the nutrients in the air to separate the emulsions from the lens.
The cataracts fell like scales from his eyes and the man leapt to his feet, shouting in jubilation. The townsfolk gathered around and marvelled at Jahzeel’s miracle.
“He made the blind man see.” They whispered in awe.
Within minutes an abundance of food was proffered. Jahzeel happily ate his fill and Colin, at his side, cheerfully increased the townsfolk’s serotonin levels and the cheer resonated throughout the town.
The next day after promising the townsfolk’s they would return, Jahzeel and Colin set off for the next village to spread cheer. Jahzeel was especially happy as he had never been welcomed in any town before and now he’d been to one where they didn’t want him to leave.
The village they were headed for was definitely in need of cheer as it was situated on the banks of the Salt Sea and without a fresh water source or fishing prospects life was particularly hard for them.
Upon arrival they discovered a small crowd of people keeping a wary distance from a man who was shouting incoherently and tearing at his hair and clothes. Jahzeel carried Colin over to the crowd and the heard the frightened whispers of the people. They believed the man to be beset with demons.
One of the villagers walked too closely to the man and he was attacked, his nose bloodied and his robe torn before he managed to get away.
“Let’s get out of here, that man is possessed by demons.” Jahzeel whispered as he hugged Colin tighter to his side.
“He is not possessed by demons Jahzeel, he is mentally ill. There is a chemical imbalance in his brain that is making him act this way.”
“Can you help him?”
“Yes, step closer to him.”
“I can’t, he’ll attack me.”
“My cheer will subdue him, he won’t attack you.”
Jahzeel walked closer to the man and the villagers shouted warnings at him. He ignored them and continued towards the man who was staring at him with mad eyes. As promised Colin’s cheer subdued the man who had approached Jahzeel but stopped short and swayed on his feet in front of him with his arms at his sides. The villagers gasped in disbelief. Colin once again used the nutrients in the air to adjust the chemical levels in the man’s brain.
Nearby a pen of pigs started squealing and kicking their back legs at their rickety enclosure.
“What’s wrong with them?” Jazheel asked.
“They are disturbed by the shift of the nutrients in the air.” Colin explained as he worked.
As the process continued the man swayed, the villagers watched open mouthed and the three pigs grew more and more unsettled.
Colin finally managed to balance the chemical levels in the man and he straightened and blinked with clear eyes.
“I’m cured!” He cried and at the same time the pigs broke free from their enclosure and ran straight into the sea where they drowned.
“He cast the demons into the pigs.” The villagers whispered in awe.
Once again food and wine was proffered and Jahzeel was touched that people so lacking in means would share their precious provisions with him. Colin spread his cheer and the villagers laughed and danced merrily around them.
“I love you Colin.” Jahzeel grinned.
“I love you too Jahzeel.”
Four days later and many happy people behind them they happened upon a town where many of its inhabitants had died and the rest were not far behind them. They were dying of thirst as the town’s water supply had been poisoned and there was no way to purify it. Urns of all sizes crowded the street in the hopes that rain would fall and save them.
Colin knew there would be no point in flooding their brains with serotonin when they were this badly dehydrated, for many it would just expedite their deaths.
“Ask to see their well.” He told Jahzeel.
Many of the townsfolk were regarding him with hostility, no doubt concerned with sharing their meagre resources with an outsider. So when he called out to be taken to the well his request was met by sniggers and jeers that he should move onto the next town.
“I wish to help you.”
“Then slice open that gourd and pass it around.” One desperate looking man shouted from the doorway of his house.
Jahzeel’s grip tightened on Colin. “I’ve come to fix your water.”
Weak laughter surrounded him, though weak as it was it lost none of its derisive tone.
“It can’t be fixed fool, now move on, there is nothing for you here.”
“Wait!” A man cried as he moved toward Jahzeel. “I know this man, I saw him in Arad. This is the man who made the blind man see!”
The man took Jahzeel’s hand and kissed it before dropping to his knees and placing his hands reverently upon his sandaled feet.
The townsfolk whispered to one another as a flicker of hope took root in them.
“Take him to the well.” A woman cradling a small, very sick looking, child pleaded.
Jahzeel was led to the town well and the weak townsfolk followed at a distance watching him curiously.
Colin could discern that their water source had been contaminated by a microbial pathogen, most likely the result of animal waste leaching into the water system.
“Can you fix it?” Jahzeel whispered.
“Yes.” He managed to use the hydrogen in the water to mass the pathogens together and force them to the water’s surface then he instructed Jahzeel to use one of the nearby urns to skim the water’s surface. When he was certain all the pathogens were removed he told Jahzeel to use a new urn and fill it with water.
“Drink from it.”
Jahzeel’s trust in Colin was great as he drank immediately. The townsfolk gasped and whispers rushed amongst them.
Jahzeel offered the urn to the man who had led him to the well and though the man took it from him he eyed the water within suspiciously and did not raise it to his lips.
“It’s good.” Jahzeel assured him.
The man eventually raised the urn to his lips and took a tiny sip. He held the liquid in his mouth as he contemplated its purity, all the while ready to spit it straight out. A moment later he swallowed then smiled briefly before taking another much larger sip.
The crowd whispered.
How does it taste?
Did he fix it?
Are we saved?
The taster grinned widely at Jahzeel. “This is the best water I have ever tasted. It takes better than wine!” He took another long swallow before passing the urn to his wife.
Again the crowd whispered.
What did he say? What did he say?
It’s wine.
He turned the water into wine.
The townsfolk rushed to the well and drank their fill and Jahzeel was revered as a man of miracles.
By this stage word of Jahzeel’s deeds had spread so it was no surprise to him or Colin when they were approached by twelve men asking for help. The help they wanted, however, was not what they were expecting. The men, each having been subjected to crimes of a varying nature, formed a victim support group and sort a way to stem man’s tendencies toward harming others. To achieve this they wanted Jahzeel to accompany them around the country performing miracles as a messenger from God.
“You see, people just don’t believe in God anymore so the Ten Commandments are not an effective way of governing them. There is no fear of reprisal for their acts as they believe there will be no reprisal.” A man called John said emphatically.
“Maybe people just need more cheer?” Jahzeel offered with a shrug. The twelve men all exchanged glances conveying their misfortune at their saviour being a simpleton.
“No Jahzeel, they need fear.” Matthew, another of the twelve, said. “Fear of the consequences of their actions will stop them doing bad things.”
“I don’t know what consie- thingys are but I do know when men are full of cheer they don’t do bad things.”
To support Jahzeel’s argument Colin flooded the men’s brains with serotonin. Smiles turned into giggles and giggles turned into laughing and the laughing didn’t stop for a very long time. Amongst the laughter were affirmations of love and encouragement.
Two of the men were both called James; one of them being referred to as The Greater and the other The Lesser.
“No you’re the greater.”
“No you are!” They argued back and forth while grinning stupidly.
Phillip and Bartholomew stood hugging and occasionally sighed with contentment. Simon was trying to convince Thomas not to doubt so much and the rest of them stood around Andrew while he did an impression of King Herod that incited laughter bordering on hysteria.
Eventually they all ended up sitting in a circle that included Jahzeel with Colin in his arms.
“Seriously Jahzeel, you have to come with us.”
The men all nodded in agreement until John shot up right. “I just had a great idea. What if we told people he wasn’t just a messenger to God but his son instead? Then people would definitely fear him!”
“You’re right.” Phillip agreed while vigorously nodding. He pointed at Jahzeel. “The son of God.”
“I don’t want to lie to people; I just want them to feel good.” Jahzeel said with a frown.
“It’s not a lie, it’s just a story.” Matthew assured him.
“Oh!” This time it was Thaddaeus that shot upright. “We could write stories of his deeds and send them all over the world so we can reach even more people and inspire fear.”
“But we want to spread cheer not fear.” Jahzeel protested.
“Think about it, if it makes them believe in God then they won’t do bad things and people will be much more cheerful.”
Jahzeel grinned. “That makes sense.”
Another of the men shot upright. “We can charge for the stories. Think how much money we will make!”
“Judas, why is it always about the coin with you?” Simon admonished. “What do you think Jahzeel, will you come with us?”
“Let me think about it.” Jahzeel took Colin and stepped away from the circle of men. “What do you think Colin?”
“People already think you are a miracle man, what difference can it make if they think you are the son of God?”
“Right, and if people are curious enough they may even come to find us and then we can give them cheer.”
“Right. I can’t see any downside to it. Let’s do it Jahzeel.”
Jahzeel grinned down at the gourd in his arms. “I love you Colin.”
“I love you too Jahzeel. What’s the worst that can happen?”
By Dayv Metcalfe
The Aristotle Project
The LOF5 phase three experimental trials had been an unprecedented success. In three out of every four cases the synthetic proteins had been accepted by their hosts and investors were already glibly celebrating the results despite not one of them truly understanding any of the real world practical applications of such progressive biological engineering.
In an hour Professor Rufus Trant would make a formal presentation of the results and as usual would have to dumb down the data to allow the majority of the assembled crowd to understand the salient points of the four year study. Apart from the odd well meaning challenge from an over excited research student, in general the questions that came in at the end would be dull and ill conceived. Inevitably one of the many funders swelling the numbers in the room, would break from propriety and press him to give an indication of the monetary value of his research findings.
He usually declined, reinforcing the points in his presentation that suggested that many hurdles must still be overcome to develop the findings into something tangible and commercial. Rufus detested this crassness but enjoyed seeing their barely hidden disappointment at his remarks. He wasn't ignorant to the necessary evils of obtaining funding for research but he still felt disgusted by their single minded greed.
Rufus left the stage to rather generous applause, though given what he and the team had achieved in the last thirteen years, it did seem fitting. As the audience began to leave the room, Sarah met him at the bottom of the steps to the left of the stage.
'Well done, that was a long one. You okay,' she said, smiling.
'Thanks, yes. Glad that bit is over as always.' Rufus took Sarah's arm and moved himself closer to her. He whispered. 'Try your best to keep Jack Caird away from me will you. I've been promising to set up a meeting but I just haven't had the time. He's pretty tenacious but I want to keep him close if you know what I mean. Don't be deceived b his bumbling, he's as sharp as a knife, but I'm sure he'll be putty in your hands.'
Sarah laughed. 'I'll take care of him.'
Rufus bit his lip. 'I'll have to do something, so arrange a day thing for the next couple of weeks.'
'No problem. Shall I meet you in the bar, say in fifteen, twenty minutes?'
'Yes, I'll just pop up to my room to freshen up and then on to round two I guess. Or I could just slip away and leave you to carry on the pleasantries in my place. Isn't that what assistants are supposed to do?' He poked her playfully with a finger.
'Yes, assist,' she replied grinning, 'not do!'
'Fine,' he said. 'I'll do it all myself!' She slapped him gently on the back as he walked away.
Rufus's company Sentience had hired a conference room in the Royal Garden Hotel, Kensington for the LOF5 Project study presentations. In the hotel bar, Rufus continued his discussions and answered many more tedious questions about the results of his research. Sarah stood close keeping a particular eye out for Jack Caird. It wasn't long before she spotted his hunched bearish frame waving a credit card over the bar with one hand a shoveling nuts into his mouth with the other. Nearby, Rufus was gesticulating to a Japanese man who was nodding seriously and Sarah knew she needed to intercept Caird before he made his move.
'Jack,' she said reaching the bar. The barman had just handed Jack his drink which was complimentary but had asked to see his Sentience invitation to prove his entitlement. As he fumbled around for it Sarah had arrived with an outstretched hand and he became confused at the sudden multiple demands on his coordination.
'Oh, er.. hold on sorry. Er let me just do this. Oh.' Jack swung himself around in a fluster.
'That's fine,' said Sarah to the barman. 'He's with us.'
'Oh Sarah, hello. Thank you.' He was now holding his drink in one hand and a crumpled invitation in the other. They both became aware of Sarah's still outstretched hand.'
'Sorry,' Jack said again, and went to put the invitation down on the bar. He quickly changed his mind and twisted around to settle his glass inevitably spilling it as he did so. He wiped both hands on his jacket and finally took Sarah's hand in his.
'Hello Sarah, thanks. How are you?'
'I'm good, really good, and you? Did you enjoy Rufus' presentation?'
Jack nodded enthusiastically. 'Yes, I'm, oh yes he was fantastic as ever. He really does have a knack of public speaking. Made what could have been a rather boring afternoon quite a pleasure.'
'He is, he did,' Sarah agreed now nodding in time with Jack.
'Well Jack,' she said, 'as you can see Rufus is pretty tied up at the moment and...' Jack interrupted. 'Yes I see he's with Mr Yamatoshi.' There was frustration in his voice.
Sarah was slightly fazed remembering Rufus' warning. Composing herself quickly, she replied 'Yes, well Rufus wanted me to arrange a sit down meeting with you and him. Perhaps a lunch so you'd both have time, you know to really discuss things, rather than grabbing half a conversation here and there between snacks.'
Jack reached for the nuts. 'Oh that would be very nice. Just the two of us. Excellent.' He tumbled a handful of the nuts into his mouth.
Sarah took out her Blackberry deliberately giving Jack time to chew and swallow the nuts before she said, 'How about next Thursday?'
Jack had now produced his own Blackberry and was eagerly scanning his appointments. 'Thursday, yes looks good.'
'Great, let's say 1pm. Fratellis?'
'Perfect,' said Jack smiling broadly. The smile fading, he touched Sarah's arm and looked again towards Rufus and Mr Yamatoshi. 'Sarah. He's not, er, what do I mean? He's not discussing this with anyone else is he?'
Sarah smiled reassuringly and returned a hand on Jack's arm. 'No he's not Jack. Please don't worry. It's a big day today and everyone will want a piece of him. You understand?'
Jack grinned. 'Of course, yes. Well next Thursday then.' He offered his hand and Sarah shook it, waving her Blackberry with the other hand. 'It's in the diary.'
***
'How was he?' Rufus asked
'He's a very cheerful man. He was definitely happy to arrange a one to one with you, though he seemed a little twitchy when he saw you with Mr Yamatoshi.'
Sarah and Rufus were both sitting opposite each other in brown leather armchairs in the thinly occupied bar area of the hotel. The last remaining conference attendees had dispersed and they were now able to enjoy a drink and some time to themselves in the calm.
Rufus nodded. 'That's what happens when you get two billionaires in the room I guess.'
Sarah raised an eyebrow. 'What do you mean?'
'Well, let's say you are the only billionaire in the room,'
Sarah interrupted smiling, ' nice. I'm imagining that right now.'
'Well, you would expect that to be a fairly unique thing. So you inevitably exist in this position of the higher order where you will always have the upper hand when it comes to your wants and desires. You simply have no competition. Put another billionaire into the mix and suddenly you can be outbid, suddenly you may not get what you want.'
'That's a bit cynical though. It suggests that all one's desires in life can be bought.'
'Can't they?' Rufus asked.
'No, surely not.' Sarah took a sip of her drink looking at Rufus for his response.
He shrugged his shoulders and waved a hand through the air. 'I don't know,' he said. 'Given what we're offering Jack Caird isn't that our answer right there?'
Sarah returned her drink to the small table between them and said. 'As miraculous as it is, I wouldn't want it.
'That's understandable, it's fraught with difficulties,' he said seriously.
'No I mean straight of, take a pill, there you go. No problems or side effects just the continuum. Anyway, does this mean you've made a decision.'
'What. To sell my soul. Yes, I think I have.' Rufus spoke with anger.
Sarah reached out and put her hand on his. 'Hey, no one will judge you for this. It's desperately needed funding, and he is just another investor in the technology, in you. You said there may be an opportunity to publish at least some part of it, so it's all pursuant to your work?'
Rufus sighed. 'We'd have to be very careful, the Ethics Committee will be all over it. I would have to cherry pick individual processes, and right there I'm in contravention. Besides, there are incredible risks. No. This has to be done,' Rufus searched for a word picking up a drinks coaster and tapping the edge on the table. 'Quietly,' he said finally.
Sarah lowered her voice. 'I understand that but if Jack gives the proper permissions then surely you would be absolved of any ethical wrongdoing.'
Rufus shook his head. 'That's the point though. Being permitted to do something is one thing. It's whether it should be done is the bigger question and anyway I'm not so sure Jack fully understands the risks behind his billionaire tinted spectacles.' He laughed.
'He doesn't seem an arrogant man Jack and as you have said, he's no fool,' Sarah said.
'I know but I worry that he can't help but have a disproportionate sense of invincibility. He can't actually bring himself to believe that any harm will come from this or more importantly to him; at least nothing his money couldn't remedy in the event of a catastrophe.'
'And if it does work Rufus. If all your work is validated and what you believe can happen actually does?' Sarah stared at Rufus intently.
He held her gaze for a moment before replying. 'You're talking about immortality Sarah. That would change everything.'
***
Jack Caird had followed Dr Rufus Trant's career and work quite closely for the last ten years. Whilst he couldn't claim to have any expertise in biological engineering, over the years Jack, who made his fortune from property, had invested heavily in early phase medical trials. For the most part he never saw a return on his money but despite his rapaciousness, it wasn't financial gain he was seeking. Rufus' research blended both biological engineering and neuroscience and in the last five years alone, over eighty patents had been taken out on the basis of his work.
Notwithstanding the odd sensationalist headline making unrealistic claims about the potential of Rufus's findings, Jack had carefully studied the results and peer reviews over the years. From this he had built a keen understanding of the true potential and this had inspired him to make contact with Rufus and discuss his extraordinary proposition.
The truth was Rufus hadn't actually interrogated the data in the same way as Jack had done and consequently hadn't immediately seen the relationships that Jack had inferred from the data.
When he first saw the journals Jack had written over the years, filled with pages of handwritten notes and pasted articles scored with question marks, arrows and exclamations, Rufus was quite overwhelmed. He remembered feeling odd as he read through it, recognising his life's work.
Jack, however had organised it in such a specific structure and chronology that Rufus understood immediately the conclusions he had drawn and he found himself dizzied with it. Many of the handwritten paragraphs ended with questions, double, sometimes triple underlined by Jack, and as Rufus read he found himself answering them out loud with an ever increasing alacrity.
With the journals came Jack's offer. He would pay Rufus twenty five million pounds to undertake the procedures. If successful, a company would be formed to provide ongoing support to Jack which would include additional transplants as necessary
Until now Rufus had been avoiding Jack as he battled with the ethical enormity and complexity of his proposal. Obviously he had to reconcile this with the huge sums of money involved; funding for his research ad infinitum but he was uncomfortable with the level of risk Jack was taking. Rufus and his team, assuming confidentiality was maintained, had nothing to lose. Jack had everything.
After Rufus has said goodnight to Sarah, it was still relatively early so he headed back to his offices at Imperial College. He needed to look into Jack Caird a little more closely.
***
'You understand Jack?' Rufus said leaning over the menu.
'I do Rufus, I really do,' Jack said solemnly.
'We could wait, just a few years. That would allow us to just nail down a couple of things. The mortality risk could be reduced by what, thirty, forty percent. That's a big number Jack.'
'Rufus. I don't think I have two years.' Jack picked up a bottle of wine from the table and refilled both their glasses. Jack raised his eyebrows.
'Ah,' Rufus frowned. 'I didn't know that Jack I'm sorry. Well....'
'Hence the urgency. It won't affect things?' Jack asked. 'Stage three lung,' he added.
'No,' said Rufus still frowning. 'As far as we understand, normal physical mutations should not affect any of the process but we wouldn't know until we know. Jack there's so much that can go wrong.' Rufus sat back in his seat.
'Of course, but you see now I actually have nothing to lose. Should make things more, er, palatable for you.'
'It helps Jack. If I'm honest.' Rufus took a large gulp of his wine.
'It's hard to explain but I'm not scared of dying, nor am I some rich suit throwing his weight around to acquire the holy grail.' Jack smiled, 'I know you've been thinking that.'
Rufus lowered his gaze to the table before looking again at Jack. 'Yes,' he said. 'I had been.'
Jack laughed. 'Why on earth wouldn't you but then why are you here now. You made the decision before I told you about the cancer.'
'The journals were impressive Jack. I had to take you seriously but I couldn't get around the fact that whichever way looked at it I was selling something I didn't have the right to.'
'Only God eh?' Jack said.
'Hell yes!' Rufus said in a forced whisper. 'So I did some research on you. I needed to find a motivation other than, well the more negative things I have been thinking.'
Jack was nodding, 'I understand that.'
Rufus continued, 'and that's when I found out about The Giving Pledge.'
'Ah you did, well it's no secret really Rufus,' Jack leaned forward and clasped his hands together on the table. At that moment a waiter arrived holding two plates and Jack slid back into his chair again.
'Rissotto?' he said looking at Rufus.
'That's me,' said Jack, raising one finger. 'Thanks.' The waiter put the plates down and adjusted the wine glasses before he left.
Both men picked up their cutlery and began to eat.
'It's a tremendous thing Jack,' said Rufus.
'It won't have any effect on our agreement, so you understand.'
Rufus had just put a forkful of food into his mouth. 'No, well of course. I wasn't...,' he stuttered.
'It is important I tell you though. The proper paperwork will be drawn up so everything is in order before, well before things are commenced. As you probably know, after your research,' Jack emphasised the word research and they both smiled. 'I have pledged to give away at least half my wealth to philanthropy either before or soon after my death. Either way, as we now both understand, that doesn't leave an awful amount of time. My affairs will be organised such that your team's funding will come from a number of ring-fenced gilt edged investments. Which, as I described when we first spoke, makes my offer of ongoing funding to you somewhat infinite.'
'It's incredible,' said Rufus shaking his head slowly. 'I only wish there was some way to guarantee an outcome for you. It's such a lot of money.'
'Which, as I have described, perhaps rather crassly, I have an infinite supply of. I believe that it is my faith I am more heavily investing in you.
Rufus nodded. 'Of course. Notwithstanding the enormous wider moral and ethical responsibilities, I feel the personal one very strongly and I just hope I can achieve everything I, well we, believe we can.'
Jack raised his glass again and paused, "The work of man is achieved in accordance with practical wisdom and moral virtue; virtue makes us aim at the right mark and practical wisdom makes us take the right means." Aristotle. Sorry, second class philosophy degree at King's. Don't get to use it much.'
'I think we have the moral and practical both covered. I'm just worried Aristotle doesn't think to mention a steady hand!' They both laughed. Rufus continued. 'So is that what piqued your interest in my work, The Aristotle connection?'
'Initially yes. The idea that the presence of a soul is what makes animals and plants living things and that there are three stages, nutritive, rational and so on. Very interesting stuff.' Both Jack and Rufus had finished eating and had pushed their plates aside. The waiter came to collect them. 'Can I get you gents anything else?'
'I'd like some coffee please,' Rufus replied. The waiter looked to Jack who gave a small closed mouth smile. 'Nothing for me thanks.'
'So Professor Trant. Are we going to prove the great Greek wrong when you show that a human soul can inhabit a lower order.'
'Only in the sense that we'll prove the soul is a separate entity and can be transplanted to another physical body. In this case vegetable matter'
'Into which the LOP5 proteins will have already been seeded, 'Jack added.
'Yes. I wonder whether he ever imagined we'd be able to manipulate organisms in such a way. He must have thought about it, sketched out some magical experiment that waited for the technology to allow it to be performed.'
Jack nodded. 'Yes, and he would have been twiddling his thumbs for most of the last two and a half thousand years considering most of the progress seems to have been made in the last fifty or so.'
'Less than that actually,' Rufus said. 'The first synthetic gene was early seventies and the real milestones have been in the last ten years.'
'And of course, the success of the LOF5 project can be added to that.'
Rufus smiled modestly and reached for his wine, 'It seems it will, yes.' Rufus continued, 'you understand that we have to use an existing complete structure vegetable, literally like a carrot or potato?'
'It sounds rather preposterous you actually saying it out loud. Especially as everything else is so cutting edge; but I understand it is a means to an end.'
'For now, yes. It gives us a known quantity to work with, sequences we entirely understand which to be honest will be few and far between in this project. Relatively speaking vegetable matter is indestructible and infinitely replaceable. Once we are happy you are stable we can undertake additional transplants when your original host, well, decomposes. But parallel to all of this, we'll be developing a complete custom host for you in human form. I'd say eighteen months.'
'But I'll be carrot until then,' Jack laughed raising his eyebrows.
'Or a potato,' Rufus said sheepishly, 'but you will have mobility and we hope at least a way to sense your surroundings.'
'You mentioned before about vision and hearing.'
'Yes, we think that we'll be able to replicate those senses using electromagnetic resonance and by implanting a decoding receiver we can translate those signals into sound and vision. We'll be using several rudimentary processes to replace what is essentially one of the most sophisticated living organisms, but we think it can work.'
'So I should be able to see in one sense or another?'
'We'll be working hard to make that happen, and there are other options available to us.'
'Good, good. You know Rufus, seriously, this has Nobel Prize written all over it. It's widely accepted that Sentience is the vanguard.' Jack lifted his glass raising it to Rufus.
'Ha! Somewhere amongst it all perhaps. Sometime.' Both men fell silent for a moment each clearly excited by their conversation.
Jack finally spoke. 'So what is the time frame for us Rufus. I mean from sitting here now. When will I see you floating above me wearing scrubs as it were.' He waved his hands comically around his face.
Rufus laughed. 'I'd say we'd need six months. Yes. To finalise the team, do the prep. I'd need you in a few times for bloods, MRIs that sort of thing. I assume there will be quite a lot of paperwork your end too.'
'It's mostly in place to be honest. Aside from our plans, I needed to put my affairs in order after the diagnosis.'
'Of course. It must be a mammoth task.'
'It is, but with no family to speak of, that makes things more straightforward. Jack looked around him. 'Where's your coffee? It's a good while now.'
Rufus detected a sadness in Jack. His research revealed that he had never married and Rufus couldn't find a single photograph of him with a partner, date or companion. Given his profile and the number of events someone of Jack's status would get invited to, this seemed unusual for a man now into his fifties.
'Not to worry, I can grab one on the way back to my office.' The waiter appeared suddenly with Rufus' coffee. 'Ah Thanks,' said Rufus. 'Can you put this on my account please, ' he said waving his arm across the table.
The waiter nodded. 'Certainly Professor Trant.'
'Thank you Rufus,' Jack said.
'You're very welcome Jack. I'll be in touch again soon. Expect to hear from me within two weeks for the first round of things. We'll need a couple of hours.'
'Good. I'll look forward to hearing from you. I know there's a large degree of shall we say, confidentiality surrounding this but shouldn't we have a name for our venture?'
Rufus paused before answering. 'Yes and I think he would approve, ' he said holding Jack's gaze.
'Of course!' Jack exclaimed. 'The Aristotle Project.'
***
Jack died at four o'clock on Tuesday 22nd May. He was surrounded by nine doctors and technicians. Rufus was there, at the centre, directing procedures. It was eight months later before they really knew how successful they had been.
In a controlled location just before dawn on a mid January day, Jack took his first steps and the fifty four year old billionaire philanthropist began his immortal life on the earth.
Jack was overwhelmed with the possibilities, and it was emotional for Rufus and the handful of team members there to witness the incredible thing the Aristotle Project had achieved. For Jack, now he had been gifted time, a future with a never nearing horizon, and he was going to do good, change things. Make it better.
By Darren Seeley
In an hour Professor Rufus Trant would make a formal presentation of the results and as usual would have to dumb down the data to allow the majority of the assembled crowd to understand the salient points of the four year study. Apart from the odd well meaning challenge from an over excited research student, in general the questions that came in at the end would be dull and ill conceived. Inevitably one of the many funders swelling the numbers in the room, would break from propriety and press him to give an indication of the monetary value of his research findings.
He usually declined, reinforcing the points in his presentation that suggested that many hurdles must still be overcome to develop the findings into something tangible and commercial. Rufus detested this crassness but enjoyed seeing their barely hidden disappointment at his remarks. He wasn't ignorant to the necessary evils of obtaining funding for research but he still felt disgusted by their single minded greed.
Rufus left the stage to rather generous applause, though given what he and the team had achieved in the last thirteen years, it did seem fitting. As the audience began to leave the room, Sarah met him at the bottom of the steps to the left of the stage.
'Well done, that was a long one. You okay,' she said, smiling.
'Thanks, yes. Glad that bit is over as always.' Rufus took Sarah's arm and moved himself closer to her. He whispered. 'Try your best to keep Jack Caird away from me will you. I've been promising to set up a meeting but I just haven't had the time. He's pretty tenacious but I want to keep him close if you know what I mean. Don't be deceived b his bumbling, he's as sharp as a knife, but I'm sure he'll be putty in your hands.'
Sarah laughed. 'I'll take care of him.'
Rufus bit his lip. 'I'll have to do something, so arrange a day thing for the next couple of weeks.'
'No problem. Shall I meet you in the bar, say in fifteen, twenty minutes?'
'Yes, I'll just pop up to my room to freshen up and then on to round two I guess. Or I could just slip away and leave you to carry on the pleasantries in my place. Isn't that what assistants are supposed to do?' He poked her playfully with a finger.
'Yes, assist,' she replied grinning, 'not do!'
'Fine,' he said. 'I'll do it all myself!' She slapped him gently on the back as he walked away.
Rufus's company Sentience had hired a conference room in the Royal Garden Hotel, Kensington for the LOF5 Project study presentations. In the hotel bar, Rufus continued his discussions and answered many more tedious questions about the results of his research. Sarah stood close keeping a particular eye out for Jack Caird. It wasn't long before she spotted his hunched bearish frame waving a credit card over the bar with one hand a shoveling nuts into his mouth with the other. Nearby, Rufus was gesticulating to a Japanese man who was nodding seriously and Sarah knew she needed to intercept Caird before he made his move.
'Jack,' she said reaching the bar. The barman had just handed Jack his drink which was complimentary but had asked to see his Sentience invitation to prove his entitlement. As he fumbled around for it Sarah had arrived with an outstretched hand and he became confused at the sudden multiple demands on his coordination.
'Oh, er.. hold on sorry. Er let me just do this. Oh.' Jack swung himself around in a fluster.
'That's fine,' said Sarah to the barman. 'He's with us.'
'Oh Sarah, hello. Thank you.' He was now holding his drink in one hand and a crumpled invitation in the other. They both became aware of Sarah's still outstretched hand.'
'Sorry,' Jack said again, and went to put the invitation down on the bar. He quickly changed his mind and twisted around to settle his glass inevitably spilling it as he did so. He wiped both hands on his jacket and finally took Sarah's hand in his.
'Hello Sarah, thanks. How are you?'
'I'm good, really good, and you? Did you enjoy Rufus' presentation?'
Jack nodded enthusiastically. 'Yes, I'm, oh yes he was fantastic as ever. He really does have a knack of public speaking. Made what could have been a rather boring afternoon quite a pleasure.'
'He is, he did,' Sarah agreed now nodding in time with Jack.
'Well Jack,' she said, 'as you can see Rufus is pretty tied up at the moment and...' Jack interrupted. 'Yes I see he's with Mr Yamatoshi.' There was frustration in his voice.
Sarah was slightly fazed remembering Rufus' warning. Composing herself quickly, she replied 'Yes, well Rufus wanted me to arrange a sit down meeting with you and him. Perhaps a lunch so you'd both have time, you know to really discuss things, rather than grabbing half a conversation here and there between snacks.'
Jack reached for the nuts. 'Oh that would be very nice. Just the two of us. Excellent.' He tumbled a handful of the nuts into his mouth.
Sarah took out her Blackberry deliberately giving Jack time to chew and swallow the nuts before she said, 'How about next Thursday?'
Jack had now produced his own Blackberry and was eagerly scanning his appointments. 'Thursday, yes looks good.'
'Great, let's say 1pm. Fratellis?'
'Perfect,' said Jack smiling broadly. The smile fading, he touched Sarah's arm and looked again towards Rufus and Mr Yamatoshi. 'Sarah. He's not, er, what do I mean? He's not discussing this with anyone else is he?'
Sarah smiled reassuringly and returned a hand on Jack's arm. 'No he's not Jack. Please don't worry. It's a big day today and everyone will want a piece of him. You understand?'
Jack grinned. 'Of course, yes. Well next Thursday then.' He offered his hand and Sarah shook it, waving her Blackberry with the other hand. 'It's in the diary.'
***
'How was he?' Rufus asked
'He's a very cheerful man. He was definitely happy to arrange a one to one with you, though he seemed a little twitchy when he saw you with Mr Yamatoshi.'
Sarah and Rufus were both sitting opposite each other in brown leather armchairs in the thinly occupied bar area of the hotel. The last remaining conference attendees had dispersed and they were now able to enjoy a drink and some time to themselves in the calm.
Rufus nodded. 'That's what happens when you get two billionaires in the room I guess.'
Sarah raised an eyebrow. 'What do you mean?'
'Well, let's say you are the only billionaire in the room,'
Sarah interrupted smiling, ' nice. I'm imagining that right now.'
'Well, you would expect that to be a fairly unique thing. So you inevitably exist in this position of the higher order where you will always have the upper hand when it comes to your wants and desires. You simply have no competition. Put another billionaire into the mix and suddenly you can be outbid, suddenly you may not get what you want.'
'That's a bit cynical though. It suggests that all one's desires in life can be bought.'
'Can't they?' Rufus asked.
'No, surely not.' Sarah took a sip of her drink looking at Rufus for his response.
He shrugged his shoulders and waved a hand through the air. 'I don't know,' he said. 'Given what we're offering Jack Caird isn't that our answer right there?'
Sarah returned her drink to the small table between them and said. 'As miraculous as it is, I wouldn't want it.
'That's understandable, it's fraught with difficulties,' he said seriously.
'No I mean straight of, take a pill, there you go. No problems or side effects just the continuum. Anyway, does this mean you've made a decision.'
'What. To sell my soul. Yes, I think I have.' Rufus spoke with anger.
Sarah reached out and put her hand on his. 'Hey, no one will judge you for this. It's desperately needed funding, and he is just another investor in the technology, in you. You said there may be an opportunity to publish at least some part of it, so it's all pursuant to your work?'
Rufus sighed. 'We'd have to be very careful, the Ethics Committee will be all over it. I would have to cherry pick individual processes, and right there I'm in contravention. Besides, there are incredible risks. No. This has to be done,' Rufus searched for a word picking up a drinks coaster and tapping the edge on the table. 'Quietly,' he said finally.
Sarah lowered her voice. 'I understand that but if Jack gives the proper permissions then surely you would be absolved of any ethical wrongdoing.'
Rufus shook his head. 'That's the point though. Being permitted to do something is one thing. It's whether it should be done is the bigger question and anyway I'm not so sure Jack fully understands the risks behind his billionaire tinted spectacles.' He laughed.
'He doesn't seem an arrogant man Jack and as you have said, he's no fool,' Sarah said.
'I know but I worry that he can't help but have a disproportionate sense of invincibility. He can't actually bring himself to believe that any harm will come from this or more importantly to him; at least nothing his money couldn't remedy in the event of a catastrophe.'
'And if it does work Rufus. If all your work is validated and what you believe can happen actually does?' Sarah stared at Rufus intently.
He held her gaze for a moment before replying. 'You're talking about immortality Sarah. That would change everything.'
***
Jack Caird had followed Dr Rufus Trant's career and work quite closely for the last ten years. Whilst he couldn't claim to have any expertise in biological engineering, over the years Jack, who made his fortune from property, had invested heavily in early phase medical trials. For the most part he never saw a return on his money but despite his rapaciousness, it wasn't financial gain he was seeking. Rufus' research blended both biological engineering and neuroscience and in the last five years alone, over eighty patents had been taken out on the basis of his work.
Notwithstanding the odd sensationalist headline making unrealistic claims about the potential of Rufus's findings, Jack had carefully studied the results and peer reviews over the years. From this he had built a keen understanding of the true potential and this had inspired him to make contact with Rufus and discuss his extraordinary proposition.
The truth was Rufus hadn't actually interrogated the data in the same way as Jack had done and consequently hadn't immediately seen the relationships that Jack had inferred from the data.
When he first saw the journals Jack had written over the years, filled with pages of handwritten notes and pasted articles scored with question marks, arrows and exclamations, Rufus was quite overwhelmed. He remembered feeling odd as he read through it, recognising his life's work.
Jack, however had organised it in such a specific structure and chronology that Rufus understood immediately the conclusions he had drawn and he found himself dizzied with it. Many of the handwritten paragraphs ended with questions, double, sometimes triple underlined by Jack, and as Rufus read he found himself answering them out loud with an ever increasing alacrity.
With the journals came Jack's offer. He would pay Rufus twenty five million pounds to undertake the procedures. If successful, a company would be formed to provide ongoing support to Jack which would include additional transplants as necessary
Until now Rufus had been avoiding Jack as he battled with the ethical enormity and complexity of his proposal. Obviously he had to reconcile this with the huge sums of money involved; funding for his research ad infinitum but he was uncomfortable with the level of risk Jack was taking. Rufus and his team, assuming confidentiality was maintained, had nothing to lose. Jack had everything.
After Rufus has said goodnight to Sarah, it was still relatively early so he headed back to his offices at Imperial College. He needed to look into Jack Caird a little more closely.
***
'You understand Jack?' Rufus said leaning over the menu.
'I do Rufus, I really do,' Jack said solemnly.
'We could wait, just a few years. That would allow us to just nail down a couple of things. The mortality risk could be reduced by what, thirty, forty percent. That's a big number Jack.'
'Rufus. I don't think I have two years.' Jack picked up a bottle of wine from the table and refilled both their glasses. Jack raised his eyebrows.
'Ah,' Rufus frowned. 'I didn't know that Jack I'm sorry. Well....'
'Hence the urgency. It won't affect things?' Jack asked. 'Stage three lung,' he added.
'No,' said Rufus still frowning. 'As far as we understand, normal physical mutations should not affect any of the process but we wouldn't know until we know. Jack there's so much that can go wrong.' Rufus sat back in his seat.
'Of course, but you see now I actually have nothing to lose. Should make things more, er, palatable for you.'
'It helps Jack. If I'm honest.' Rufus took a large gulp of his wine.
'It's hard to explain but I'm not scared of dying, nor am I some rich suit throwing his weight around to acquire the holy grail.' Jack smiled, 'I know you've been thinking that.'
Rufus lowered his gaze to the table before looking again at Jack. 'Yes,' he said. 'I had been.'
Jack laughed. 'Why on earth wouldn't you but then why are you here now. You made the decision before I told you about the cancer.'
'The journals were impressive Jack. I had to take you seriously but I couldn't get around the fact that whichever way looked at it I was selling something I didn't have the right to.'
'Only God eh?' Jack said.
'Hell yes!' Rufus said in a forced whisper. 'So I did some research on you. I needed to find a motivation other than, well the more negative things I have been thinking.'
Jack was nodding, 'I understand that.'
Rufus continued, 'and that's when I found out about The Giving Pledge.'
'Ah you did, well it's no secret really Rufus,' Jack leaned forward and clasped his hands together on the table. At that moment a waiter arrived holding two plates and Jack slid back into his chair again.
'Rissotto?' he said looking at Rufus.
'That's me,' said Jack, raising one finger. 'Thanks.' The waiter put the plates down and adjusted the wine glasses before he left.
Both men picked up their cutlery and began to eat.
'It's a tremendous thing Jack,' said Rufus.
'It won't have any effect on our agreement, so you understand.'
Rufus had just put a forkful of food into his mouth. 'No, well of course. I wasn't...,' he stuttered.
'It is important I tell you though. The proper paperwork will be drawn up so everything is in order before, well before things are commenced. As you probably know, after your research,' Jack emphasised the word research and they both smiled. 'I have pledged to give away at least half my wealth to philanthropy either before or soon after my death. Either way, as we now both understand, that doesn't leave an awful amount of time. My affairs will be organised such that your team's funding will come from a number of ring-fenced gilt edged investments. Which, as I described when we first spoke, makes my offer of ongoing funding to you somewhat infinite.'
'It's incredible,' said Rufus shaking his head slowly. 'I only wish there was some way to guarantee an outcome for you. It's such a lot of money.'
'Which, as I have described, perhaps rather crassly, I have an infinite supply of. I believe that it is my faith I am more heavily investing in you.
Rufus nodded. 'Of course. Notwithstanding the enormous wider moral and ethical responsibilities, I feel the personal one very strongly and I just hope I can achieve everything I, well we, believe we can.'
Jack raised his glass again and paused, "The work of man is achieved in accordance with practical wisdom and moral virtue; virtue makes us aim at the right mark and practical wisdom makes us take the right means." Aristotle. Sorry, second class philosophy degree at King's. Don't get to use it much.'
'I think we have the moral and practical both covered. I'm just worried Aristotle doesn't think to mention a steady hand!' They both laughed. Rufus continued. 'So is that what piqued your interest in my work, The Aristotle connection?'
'Initially yes. The idea that the presence of a soul is what makes animals and plants living things and that there are three stages, nutritive, rational and so on. Very interesting stuff.' Both Jack and Rufus had finished eating and had pushed their plates aside. The waiter came to collect them. 'Can I get you gents anything else?'
'I'd like some coffee please,' Rufus replied. The waiter looked to Jack who gave a small closed mouth smile. 'Nothing for me thanks.'
'So Professor Trant. Are we going to prove the great Greek wrong when you show that a human soul can inhabit a lower order.'
'Only in the sense that we'll prove the soul is a separate entity and can be transplanted to another physical body. In this case vegetable matter'
'Into which the LOP5 proteins will have already been seeded, 'Jack added.
'Yes. I wonder whether he ever imagined we'd be able to manipulate organisms in such a way. He must have thought about it, sketched out some magical experiment that waited for the technology to allow it to be performed.'
Jack nodded. 'Yes, and he would have been twiddling his thumbs for most of the last two and a half thousand years considering most of the progress seems to have been made in the last fifty or so.'
'Less than that actually,' Rufus said. 'The first synthetic gene was early seventies and the real milestones have been in the last ten years.'
'And of course, the success of the LOF5 project can be added to that.'
Rufus smiled modestly and reached for his wine, 'It seems it will, yes.' Rufus continued, 'you understand that we have to use an existing complete structure vegetable, literally like a carrot or potato?'
'It sounds rather preposterous you actually saying it out loud. Especially as everything else is so cutting edge; but I understand it is a means to an end.'
'For now, yes. It gives us a known quantity to work with, sequences we entirely understand which to be honest will be few and far between in this project. Relatively speaking vegetable matter is indestructible and infinitely replaceable. Once we are happy you are stable we can undertake additional transplants when your original host, well, decomposes. But parallel to all of this, we'll be developing a complete custom host for you in human form. I'd say eighteen months.'
'But I'll be carrot until then,' Jack laughed raising his eyebrows.
'Or a potato,' Rufus said sheepishly, 'but you will have mobility and we hope at least a way to sense your surroundings.'
'You mentioned before about vision and hearing.'
'Yes, we think that we'll be able to replicate those senses using electromagnetic resonance and by implanting a decoding receiver we can translate those signals into sound and vision. We'll be using several rudimentary processes to replace what is essentially one of the most sophisticated living organisms, but we think it can work.'
'So I should be able to see in one sense or another?'
'We'll be working hard to make that happen, and there are other options available to us.'
'Good, good. You know Rufus, seriously, this has Nobel Prize written all over it. It's widely accepted that Sentience is the vanguard.' Jack lifted his glass raising it to Rufus.
'Ha! Somewhere amongst it all perhaps. Sometime.' Both men fell silent for a moment each clearly excited by their conversation.
Jack finally spoke. 'So what is the time frame for us Rufus. I mean from sitting here now. When will I see you floating above me wearing scrubs as it were.' He waved his hands comically around his face.
Rufus laughed. 'I'd say we'd need six months. Yes. To finalise the team, do the prep. I'd need you in a few times for bloods, MRIs that sort of thing. I assume there will be quite a lot of paperwork your end too.'
'It's mostly in place to be honest. Aside from our plans, I needed to put my affairs in order after the diagnosis.'
'Of course. It must be a mammoth task.'
'It is, but with no family to speak of, that makes things more straightforward. Jack looked around him. 'Where's your coffee? It's a good while now.'
Rufus detected a sadness in Jack. His research revealed that he had never married and Rufus couldn't find a single photograph of him with a partner, date or companion. Given his profile and the number of events someone of Jack's status would get invited to, this seemed unusual for a man now into his fifties.
'Not to worry, I can grab one on the way back to my office.' The waiter appeared suddenly with Rufus' coffee. 'Ah Thanks,' said Rufus. 'Can you put this on my account please, ' he said waving his arm across the table.
The waiter nodded. 'Certainly Professor Trant.'
'Thank you Rufus,' Jack said.
'You're very welcome Jack. I'll be in touch again soon. Expect to hear from me within two weeks for the first round of things. We'll need a couple of hours.'
'Good. I'll look forward to hearing from you. I know there's a large degree of shall we say, confidentiality surrounding this but shouldn't we have a name for our venture?'
Rufus paused before answering. 'Yes and I think he would approve, ' he said holding Jack's gaze.
'Of course!' Jack exclaimed. 'The Aristotle Project.'
***
Jack died at four o'clock on Tuesday 22nd May. He was surrounded by nine doctors and technicians. Rufus was there, at the centre, directing procedures. It was eight months later before they really knew how successful they had been.
In a controlled location just before dawn on a mid January day, Jack took his first steps and the fifty four year old billionaire philanthropist began his immortal life on the earth.
Jack was overwhelmed with the possibilities, and it was emotional for Rufus and the handful of team members there to witness the incredible thing the Aristotle Project had achieved. For Jack, now he had been gifted time, a future with a never nearing horizon, and he was going to do good, change things. Make it better.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Story Idea 4
A cheerful vegetable gains sentience and mobility and steps out into the world...
The story should be no more than 4000 words.
The story should be no more than 4000 words.
Deadline: 4th May 2013
AM
Jacob's Garden
Even before the autumn came, the leaves fell into Jacob's garden. It wasn't a particularly windy September and neither was it warm. The sky stayed blue and the clouds away, but the air gnawed like November.
"It's dying," he said, looking up at the oak tree. "Almost dead."
Mark followed Jacob's gaze to the top of the tree expecting to see some evidence of Jacob's feeling but he only saw the oak, bare of leaves, a shock of branches against the late summer sky.
"Maybe just an early season Jacob, feel how cold it is today. It's in the air." Mark hugged himself as he walked across the grass to stand beside Jacob.
"Perhaps, but....." Jacob sighed. "I think this one will go."
Jacob walked up to the oak and nestled his feet between the roots overflowing from the ground around the base of the tree. Still a yard or so away from the trunk, he reached forward to lean one hand against it.
The rough skin of his palm made a rasping sound against the bark as his hand rubbed carefully across seeming to feel for the signs of life he was sure had gone.
He swung his other arm around and now both hands were pressed against the tree shoulder width apart, taking his weight. He put one leg forward finding a new stable foot place between the roots and bent his knees slightly. Behind him Mark was anxiously rocking from one foot to the other, flicking his gaze between the top of the tree and Jacob's back tilted against the trunk.
There were seven oak trees still standing in Jacob's garden and this is where it had all started.
The garden as it was known was two hundred acres of woodland in the Forest of Dean, bought by Jacob shortly after the accident. For most of the small group of people, six men and four women standing by a pond thirty foot or so away, this was their first visit to Jacob's garden but not their first time. They huddled closer together, each face lit with anticipation and excitement, but from somewhere deeper, a yearning flushed their skin scarlet.
The feeling never diminished for Mark. Despite witnessing it so many times before, he never grew tired or any less than overwhelmed by being with Jacob, and once again his stomach flutters as he hears him start to inhale deeply and his back expands beneath his coat.
And each time as before, at this moment, Mark tells himself that it looks like Jacob is actually trying to push the tree over. Then, as the ground heaves and things begin to crack and groan Jacob expels a giant breath and Mark holds his in silence. And the tree begins to fall.
Jacob skipped backwards and jumped clear of the roots rising up out of the ground and as the oak descended it clipped and flicked the branches of other trees and the air rushed away from beneath its falling weight with a deep booming thrump. Finally it came to rest and the sounds thinned to a whisper.
The oak was dead.
*****
Mark met Jacob shortly after Maria died and he was the first. In the four years since they had become close friends and now Mark travelled with Jacob to the trees. Jacob had bought a large leather bound journal and in it he'd written the names and telephone numbers of those who had contacted them. Whenever a call came in they would let everyone know before throwing a couple of overnight bags into the car and heading off to whatever part of the world the call had come in from.
Secrecy was a problem in the beginning. There was an understandable scepticism towards Jacob when he'd first started to make contact with the various parties about the trees, and of course whilst he offered his services without charge he didn't reveal his methods during the first exchange. The extraordinary truth was only made known when they had witnessed it first hand with their own eyes. Mark had argued that Jacob could have asked for privacy as part of the deal but Jacob had said he really didn't mind and wouldn't want to draw attention to himself or raise suspicion before he'd actually carried out the work. Mark soon realised it was all part of the process for Jacob needing a witness, someone who was unfamiliar and nonjudgmental.
For Mark, without Maria everything made sense to be here, even if he couldn't yet fully understand why, and ultimately what the consequences of everything would be. His family, or rather Maria's parents as Mark had no living relatives to speak of; they told him that it was time to start rebuilding a new life without her. They loved him and prayed that he found some happiness again. Enough time had passed. For what though? To forget? To begin believing he could have a life without her. This was his life without her and it began one moment in the dark four years ago whilst he slept, and wouldn't end until he was finally and eternally delivered into the light.
After seeing such a fantastic feat, those who'd led them to dying trees became very protective and wanted to keep their involvement to themselves. As time went on Mark began to realise the effect their work was having on those who witnessed it for like himself they found it a powerful and cathartic experience.
He started inviting each person who had led them to a tree to come along and watch the next time it happened. This is how the group grew to around ten or so people, and those that could travelled to wherever Jacob and Mark were heading, to whatever place the call came in from.
Inevitably, about three months after they'd first begun, there was a farmer in Suffolk who valued a few pounds and even fewer minutes of fame, over the privilege of watching Jacob, and had sold a story to the local press. Being such a preposterous idea, Mark had easily dismissed it arguing that he had been there too, and seen Jacob standing next to a diseased and rotten tree when it fell. The real story Mark said was in fact how lucky Jacob was to avoid serious injury. The original whistleblower didn't pursue things and the story died as quickly as the speed in which he'd no doubt spent his money. The Suffolk Herald ran a small piece about the incident with the headline 'Timber!"
Mark had learned how to deal with the press after Maria had died. After the initial reporting of the accident they had latched on to his developing relationship with Jacob. When Mark was unable to give them any specific reason, they concocted their own, some even suggesting sinister motives.
The cruel series of events didn't seem story enough for them, and most resisted the simple conclusion that here were two men whom had both lost their wives, so undoubtedly and unexpectedly they now had much in common. The reporters focussed on the twist, the element that sold their newspapers for nearly two whole months after the accident and it trapped Jacob, under a daily microscope of intrusion that no polite requests to desist could stop.
Mark had become the spokesperson for the both of them, by default really, because of Ellie. Sometimes Mark struggled to reconcile his loss with Jacob's. He was actually asked in one interview whether he felt Maria's right to justice and his own loss had been usurped by the tragic circumstances of the accident. Mark had lost his wife, but poor Jacob, with Ellie already gone, had now lost his whole family.
Ellie was Jacob and Jenny's daughter five years ago just three days before her sixth birthday, she had emptied out the contents of the refrigerator, a fairly old free standing unit in the family kitchen. She removed all the food, jars of sauces, the odd nail polish and placed them neatly, regimentally on the floor. Beside these she stacked the two wire shelves, egg tray and plastic thermometer. She had then climbed inside and to make herself fit would have sat with her chin tight against her knees. No would ever know what new game she had invented, but once inside she had pulled the door shut and even as the light went out, as it would have done, she hadn't attempted to get out again and it was there in the darkness and the cold that she died.
Jacob had been working in the garden for most of the morning. He had walked into the kitchen and filled the kettle before he noticed the contents of the refrigerator neatly ordered on the floor. He shouted for Jenny as he continued to make tea. She appeared in the kitchen yawning and rubbing the back of her head.
"Oh. I fell asleep. Is Ellie in the garden." She frowned and chuckled at the food on the floor. "Oh no, is the fridge playing up?"
No one asked why Jenny had turned the steering wheel that night. She was the one who had bent down and opened the refrigerator door. The one who had felt the weight of Ellie's stony body slump across her feet, ice against her shins. Jenny had said later that she didn't know, didn't have an overwhelming feeling and really expected to see an empty fridge, and for Ellie to skip into the kitchen explaining with innocent sincerity and in great detail why on earth she had dismantled the contents of the fridge.
Jacob knew. He was already sitting on the floor trembling and pushing himself back between the corner cabinets with his feet. His socks kept slipping on the tiled floor as he tried to stop himself falling into the giant chasm which was unfolding before him.
The coroner's report stated that based on calculations of available oxygen inside the refrigerator, Ellie probably lost consciousness after around two to three hours and asphyxiation would have occurred shortly after.
Whilst Jenny was found to have caused death by dangerous driving, there was little other evidence to explain her actions that night and she quickly became another victim in the whole terrible story. For Mark this left Maria's death somehow unexplained. Not that he didn't understand, hadn't agonised to truly accept the circumstances behind the accident. He just needed a reason, something to keep inside, a place to go where it could all be explained. On those days when suddenly nothing made sense again, the only answer he had to wrap around himself was someone else's grief, and it just wasn't enough. Jacob understood this and when they met, he had told Mark that despite Jenny's fragile mental state, he acknowledged with a heavy heart that she was directly responsible for Maria's death.
They had spoken at length about how they were both coping, and Jacob had told Mark about the day he'd first pushed over an oak tree in the woods behind his house some four weeks after Jenny and Maria's accident.
Mark initially thought Jacob must be speaking metaphorically because he recognised the anger he was describing, the debilitating emotions which at times rendered him mute with anger. But in those woods Jacob had placed his hands upon the tree and the things he couldn't say, the feelings he wasn't able to communicate had burgeoned and unravelled with such a ferocity. Three weeks later Jacob found another tree and Mark was standing beside him when he did it again.
Though the trees were dying, their roots shrinking away from the soil around them, there was no doubt about the extraordinary force required to rip them from the ground and whilst Jacob's strength appeared superhuman it didn't manifest itself in any other situations irrespective of his emotional state. Mark had thought a lot about the symbolism of the trees and what they must represent to Jacob. Was he simply ridding himself of death, clearing away reminders of the tragedies that had devastated his family or perhaps it was just a simple act of frustration. Jacob had bought the forest land so he could continue to push the trees, but Mark wondered how much Jacob was doing it for himself now rather the others in the group whom had come so quickly to rely on him.
Ted came because he missed his wife and they had argued the day she died. Mrs Rowe, their newest member lost a son in Afghanistan and Rachael Everett's seven month old baby was never born.
Jacob lost his beautiful daughter and hurt everyday because he couldn't understand why she had chosen to sit inside that dark unfriendly place until sleep and finally death consumed her. Jenny his wife finally surrendered to the demons which had hunted her since the day she herself fell asleep and wasn't there to save her baby. Her desperate action that night on a country lane three miles from her home unwittingly changed Mark's life forever.
***
Jacob was looking at his hands and he walked back towards Mark. The group of people were also walking over, some milling around and inspecting the giant mesh of the oak's root bowl which out of the ground stood much higher than any of them.
Mark shook Jacob's hand. "Thank you Jacob," he said. The others in the group had now joined them and they repeated the gratitude, some patting Jacob's back and rubbing his arms.
They slowly made their way out of the garden, through the trees and to the road beyond.
By Darren Seeley
"It's dying," he said, looking up at the oak tree. "Almost dead."
Mark followed Jacob's gaze to the top of the tree expecting to see some evidence of Jacob's feeling but he only saw the oak, bare of leaves, a shock of branches against the late summer sky.
"Maybe just an early season Jacob, feel how cold it is today. It's in the air." Mark hugged himself as he walked across the grass to stand beside Jacob.
"Perhaps, but....." Jacob sighed. "I think this one will go."
Jacob walked up to the oak and nestled his feet between the roots overflowing from the ground around the base of the tree. Still a yard or so away from the trunk, he reached forward to lean one hand against it.
The rough skin of his palm made a rasping sound against the bark as his hand rubbed carefully across seeming to feel for the signs of life he was sure had gone.
He swung his other arm around and now both hands were pressed against the tree shoulder width apart, taking his weight. He put one leg forward finding a new stable foot place between the roots and bent his knees slightly. Behind him Mark was anxiously rocking from one foot to the other, flicking his gaze between the top of the tree and Jacob's back tilted against the trunk.
There were seven oak trees still standing in Jacob's garden and this is where it had all started.
The garden as it was known was two hundred acres of woodland in the Forest of Dean, bought by Jacob shortly after the accident. For most of the small group of people, six men and four women standing by a pond thirty foot or so away, this was their first visit to Jacob's garden but not their first time. They huddled closer together, each face lit with anticipation and excitement, but from somewhere deeper, a yearning flushed their skin scarlet.
The feeling never diminished for Mark. Despite witnessing it so many times before, he never grew tired or any less than overwhelmed by being with Jacob, and once again his stomach flutters as he hears him start to inhale deeply and his back expands beneath his coat.
And each time as before, at this moment, Mark tells himself that it looks like Jacob is actually trying to push the tree over. Then, as the ground heaves and things begin to crack and groan Jacob expels a giant breath and Mark holds his in silence. And the tree begins to fall.
Jacob skipped backwards and jumped clear of the roots rising up out of the ground and as the oak descended it clipped and flicked the branches of other trees and the air rushed away from beneath its falling weight with a deep booming thrump. Finally it came to rest and the sounds thinned to a whisper.
The oak was dead.
*****
Mark met Jacob shortly after Maria died and he was the first. In the four years since they had become close friends and now Mark travelled with Jacob to the trees. Jacob had bought a large leather bound journal and in it he'd written the names and telephone numbers of those who had contacted them. Whenever a call came in they would let everyone know before throwing a couple of overnight bags into the car and heading off to whatever part of the world the call had come in from.
Secrecy was a problem in the beginning. There was an understandable scepticism towards Jacob when he'd first started to make contact with the various parties about the trees, and of course whilst he offered his services without charge he didn't reveal his methods during the first exchange. The extraordinary truth was only made known when they had witnessed it first hand with their own eyes. Mark had argued that Jacob could have asked for privacy as part of the deal but Jacob had said he really didn't mind and wouldn't want to draw attention to himself or raise suspicion before he'd actually carried out the work. Mark soon realised it was all part of the process for Jacob needing a witness, someone who was unfamiliar and nonjudgmental.
For Mark, without Maria everything made sense to be here, even if he couldn't yet fully understand why, and ultimately what the consequences of everything would be. His family, or rather Maria's parents as Mark had no living relatives to speak of; they told him that it was time to start rebuilding a new life without her. They loved him and prayed that he found some happiness again. Enough time had passed. For what though? To forget? To begin believing he could have a life without her. This was his life without her and it began one moment in the dark four years ago whilst he slept, and wouldn't end until he was finally and eternally delivered into the light.
After seeing such a fantastic feat, those who'd led them to dying trees became very protective and wanted to keep their involvement to themselves. As time went on Mark began to realise the effect their work was having on those who witnessed it for like himself they found it a powerful and cathartic experience.
He started inviting each person who had led them to a tree to come along and watch the next time it happened. This is how the group grew to around ten or so people, and those that could travelled to wherever Jacob and Mark were heading, to whatever place the call came in from.
Inevitably, about three months after they'd first begun, there was a farmer in Suffolk who valued a few pounds and even fewer minutes of fame, over the privilege of watching Jacob, and had sold a story to the local press. Being such a preposterous idea, Mark had easily dismissed it arguing that he had been there too, and seen Jacob standing next to a diseased and rotten tree when it fell. The real story Mark said was in fact how lucky Jacob was to avoid serious injury. The original whistleblower didn't pursue things and the story died as quickly as the speed in which he'd no doubt spent his money. The Suffolk Herald ran a small piece about the incident with the headline 'Timber!"
Mark had learned how to deal with the press after Maria had died. After the initial reporting of the accident they had latched on to his developing relationship with Jacob. When Mark was unable to give them any specific reason, they concocted their own, some even suggesting sinister motives.
The cruel series of events didn't seem story enough for them, and most resisted the simple conclusion that here were two men whom had both lost their wives, so undoubtedly and unexpectedly they now had much in common. The reporters focussed on the twist, the element that sold their newspapers for nearly two whole months after the accident and it trapped Jacob, under a daily microscope of intrusion that no polite requests to desist could stop.
Mark had become the spokesperson for the both of them, by default really, because of Ellie. Sometimes Mark struggled to reconcile his loss with Jacob's. He was actually asked in one interview whether he felt Maria's right to justice and his own loss had been usurped by the tragic circumstances of the accident. Mark had lost his wife, but poor Jacob, with Ellie already gone, had now lost his whole family.
Ellie was Jacob and Jenny's daughter five years ago just three days before her sixth birthday, she had emptied out the contents of the refrigerator, a fairly old free standing unit in the family kitchen. She removed all the food, jars of sauces, the odd nail polish and placed them neatly, regimentally on the floor. Beside these she stacked the two wire shelves, egg tray and plastic thermometer. She had then climbed inside and to make herself fit would have sat with her chin tight against her knees. No would ever know what new game she had invented, but once inside she had pulled the door shut and even as the light went out, as it would have done, she hadn't attempted to get out again and it was there in the darkness and the cold that she died.
Jacob had been working in the garden for most of the morning. He had walked into the kitchen and filled the kettle before he noticed the contents of the refrigerator neatly ordered on the floor. He shouted for Jenny as he continued to make tea. She appeared in the kitchen yawning and rubbing the back of her head.
"Oh. I fell asleep. Is Ellie in the garden." She frowned and chuckled at the food on the floor. "Oh no, is the fridge playing up?"
No one asked why Jenny had turned the steering wheel that night. She was the one who had bent down and opened the refrigerator door. The one who had felt the weight of Ellie's stony body slump across her feet, ice against her shins. Jenny had said later that she didn't know, didn't have an overwhelming feeling and really expected to see an empty fridge, and for Ellie to skip into the kitchen explaining with innocent sincerity and in great detail why on earth she had dismantled the contents of the fridge.
Jacob knew. He was already sitting on the floor trembling and pushing himself back between the corner cabinets with his feet. His socks kept slipping on the tiled floor as he tried to stop himself falling into the giant chasm which was unfolding before him.
The coroner's report stated that based on calculations of available oxygen inside the refrigerator, Ellie probably lost consciousness after around two to three hours and asphyxiation would have occurred shortly after.
Whilst Jenny was found to have caused death by dangerous driving, there was little other evidence to explain her actions that night and she quickly became another victim in the whole terrible story. For Mark this left Maria's death somehow unexplained. Not that he didn't understand, hadn't agonised to truly accept the circumstances behind the accident. He just needed a reason, something to keep inside, a place to go where it could all be explained. On those days when suddenly nothing made sense again, the only answer he had to wrap around himself was someone else's grief, and it just wasn't enough. Jacob understood this and when they met, he had told Mark that despite Jenny's fragile mental state, he acknowledged with a heavy heart that she was directly responsible for Maria's death.
They had spoken at length about how they were both coping, and Jacob had told Mark about the day he'd first pushed over an oak tree in the woods behind his house some four weeks after Jenny and Maria's accident.
Mark initially thought Jacob must be speaking metaphorically because he recognised the anger he was describing, the debilitating emotions which at times rendered him mute with anger. But in those woods Jacob had placed his hands upon the tree and the things he couldn't say, the feelings he wasn't able to communicate had burgeoned and unravelled with such a ferocity. Three weeks later Jacob found another tree and Mark was standing beside him when he did it again.
Though the trees were dying, their roots shrinking away from the soil around them, there was no doubt about the extraordinary force required to rip them from the ground and whilst Jacob's strength appeared superhuman it didn't manifest itself in any other situations irrespective of his emotional state. Mark had thought a lot about the symbolism of the trees and what they must represent to Jacob. Was he simply ridding himself of death, clearing away reminders of the tragedies that had devastated his family or perhaps it was just a simple act of frustration. Jacob had bought the forest land so he could continue to push the trees, but Mark wondered how much Jacob was doing it for himself now rather the others in the group whom had come so quickly to rely on him.
Ted came because he missed his wife and they had argued the day she died. Mrs Rowe, their newest member lost a son in Afghanistan and Rachael Everett's seven month old baby was never born.
Jacob lost his beautiful daughter and hurt everyday because he couldn't understand why she had chosen to sit inside that dark unfriendly place until sleep and finally death consumed her. Jenny his wife finally surrendered to the demons which had hunted her since the day she herself fell asleep and wasn't there to save her baby. Her desperate action that night on a country lane three miles from her home unwittingly changed Mark's life forever.
***
Jacob was looking at his hands and he walked back towards Mark. The group of people were also walking over, some milling around and inspecting the giant mesh of the oak's root bowl which out of the ground stood much higher than any of them.
Mark shook Jacob's hand. "Thank you Jacob," he said. The others in the group had now joined them and they repeated the gratitude, some patting Jacob's back and rubbing his arms.
They slowly made their way out of the garden, through the trees and to the road beyond.
By Darren Seeley
The Boy
The first time – Alice had one ritual in her life; albeit a new one but for the last sixty two days she had doggedly left her house everyday so she could complete it. Sometimes she had somewhere to go, others she would just stand outside and look at the pretty pink flowers in her window boxes for five minutes until the ritual could begin.
Today was a window box day. At precisely five minutes after she’d locked her front door, Alice unlocked it again, making sure to twist her wrist with a flourish so the little bell that hung on the key ring chimed repeatedly. It chimed three times, the way her mother had always made it do.
The next part of the ritual was the most stressful for Alice. Oxygen was the enemy and she felt it cloaking her, ready to pervade, ready to dilute, as she paused on the doorstep. As fast as she was able, though not as fast as she would like, Alice jerked open the door and rushed inside, quickly shutting the door behind her to block the oxygen’s entry. Her heart beat fast but she focused on calming it so she could savour the rest of the ritual. She took a deep breath through her nose, then another. Tears formed in her eyes as she had to take a third; her mother’s scent was so faint but she knew it wasn’t just the oxygen’s fault. Her brother’s shoes were strewn haphazardly in the entry way tainting the subtle scent of lilac and roses she had come to crave.
Despair welled in her but she managed to tamp it down, she still had the sealed bags of clothes under her bed she could inhale from when her grief became too great. If she was fast with resealing the bag it would be years before oxygen stole her mother’s scent from them.
Alice straightened her brother’s shoes, managing not to scream in frustration, and went to the kitchen. She loved her brother, she truly did. She was just having trouble adjusting. For so long it had just been her and her mother, everything had been calm, pleasant and predictable but now her mother was gone….
Her mother was gone!!!!!!!
And hard times had fallen on her brother, forcing him to move in with her out of necessity.
Alice filled the kettle and switched it on. Tears threatened again as she set out one cup, not two, and she noticed her hands were shaking as she opened the fridge for the milk.
She reached into the fridge for milk and a boy with ghostly pale skin and black eyes stared back at her.
Alice blinked first in incomprehension then, upon registering what she was seeing, flung herself backwards in terror. Her hip clipped the kitchen work bench, flinging her to the ground but within seconds she was up and running, screaming all the time.
She heard thumping down the stairs and then Frank, her brother, was in front of her. “What the hell is wrong?” He demanded.
“In the fridge!” Alice cried and flung herself into the cushions of her mother’s armchair.
“What is it?” Frank frowned.
“Just look in the fridge!” Alice begged.
Frank huffed and marched into the kitchen. “Jesus Christ!” She heard a moment later and felt utterly sure that her big brother was about to save the day. “Alice, what is it with you and smashing eggs? Oh,” he paused awkwardly and stepped back to the doorway to look at her, “is this another episode?”
Alice frowned as she straightened in the armchair. She hated the word episode, or at least she had done since it had been repeatedly used to describe her incident. “Look in the fridge, there’s a boy in the fridge.”
Frank looked into the kitchen and then back at her and gave a deep sigh, a sigh Alice interpreted to be of the exasperated kind, and that made Alice burrow back into the cushions.
“Al, come here.” His tone brooked no argument and Alice begrudgingly uncoiled herself from the beloved armchair and walked into the kitchen to his side. She surveyed the perfectly organised fridge shelving, minus demonic looking child, and a shattered carton of eggs on the kitchen floor in front of the fridge.
“I know what I saw.” She insisted before he could chastise her. “He was in there!”
Frank took Alice’s shoulders and the caring expression on his face nearly broke her. “Alice, maybe we should go back to Doctor Whyatt.”
“I don’t need Doctor Whyatt, I’m fine.” Frank didn’t look convinced. “I’m fine!” Alice repeated and the knowing look Frank gave her made her cringe inside.
“Okay, Alice, I’ll clear up here. You should go and have a nap while I make us dinner.”
***
The fourth time - You will beg for mercy…
Your tears will run dry…
You will beg for death…
The murmurs woke Alice from her slumber. She had that groggy, barely awake feeling when the next murmur sounded.
You will die screaming…
Adrenalin pulsed through her as her eyes shot open with a certainty of danger. The boy with the black eyes was hovering above her, his face inches from hers. Alice screamed for all she was worth and then jack-knifed out of the bed to get away from him. She landed awkwardly and Frank burst into the room discovering his sister cowering against the bedroom wall cradling a broken arm.
***
“Mr Ashurst, could you come with me please?”
Frank frowned but followed the nurse. “Is Alice okay?” He asked as they maneuvered corridor upon corridor.
“The Doctor will talk to you shortly.” The nurse’s shoes squeaked as she transversed the corridors but other than that she made no sound.
“Nurse?”
“The Doctor will talk to you shortly.” She answered tartly as she opened the door to an office and ushered him inside.
Frank was faced with three stern looking, white coat cladded men, each wearing grim looking glasses that made him wonder if they were for effect or necessity.
“Doctors?” He greeted, unsure of the protocol of the situation.
“Tell me about your sister’s wounds.” One of the white coats instructed.
“Ah, as far as I’m aware she got a fright and fell out of bed.”
Lots of scribbling on notepads, lots of meaningful looks to each other; at least to everyone but Frank.
One of the white coats cleared his throat. “You know, Alice has quite a few contusions present on her body alongside from the broken arm.”
Frank knew what they were insinuating and he was a proud man. There were precious few things left in his broken life to be proud of but the fact that he’d never dream of hitting a woman was one of them so he’d be damned before he’d let these doctors accuse him of something he hadn’t done.
“I can assure you I would never lay a hand on my sister and this is not the first time she’s had a fright like this. If you must know she’s seeing an apparition all around our house.”
***
Alice tried to move her fingers in the cast encasing her broken arm but they stayed immobile.
She was officially broken. This made her laugh and she laughed hard, though the sound couldn’t have been described as jovial. The reality was she’d been broken for the last seventy six days and no Band-Aid or plaster cast could come to her rescue.
Two nurses tried to calm her hysterical laughing to no avail and then Frank was there; her Saviour, and she calmed.
“Alice I need to know what happened.” Frank said, looking more tired than she had seen him at his worst.
“The boy was in my room, he was threatening me.”
Frank took a breath, seeming to try and calm himself, and then took the hand of her unbroken arm in his. “Alice, there was no boy. I came straight to your room when you screamed. If there had been a boy in there I would’ve seen him.”
“He was there.”
“And he just disappeared? Like a ghost?”
“Maybe.” Alice frowned. She didn’t believe in ghosts but four times now she’d seen something her brother hadn’t and the boy being a ghost sat a lot better with her than the fact that she may be going crazy.
Frank withdrew his hand and scrubbed it over his face. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes and how thin his face had gotten.
“Alice, we should sell the house, move on, get a fresh start.”
Alice stiffened in horror. They’d had this conversation before, many times, and each time panic gripped her as though he’d get his way. The thought of strangers moving into her mother’s house made her feel nauseous.
“No.”
Frank sighed deeply. “It’s not healthy for you Alice.”
“It’s mum’s house.”
“No, it’s her shrine!” Frank snapped. “I’m not allowed to even open the God damn windows lest her precious scent escape!”
Alice flinched at his tone and he immediately reached for her hand again and gave a weary sigh.
“I’m sorry Alice. I’m just… sorry.”
Alice looked at her brother, really looked at him, and saw how broken he was. For the first time she put her own suffering aside and considered his. He had lost his mother as well but not only that, in quick succession his wife had left him and he’d been declared bankrupt. No wonder he wanted to sell the house he needed a fresh start. And she felt for him, she honestly did, but she couldn’t sell the house. She just couldn’t.
***
The ninth time – Alice stood at the bathroom sink with a towel wrapped around her. The tub was filling with warm water and she had two little blue tablets in her hand. Alice now had a second ritual; take Valium then relax in the tub. She knew she’d been prescribed the pills to stop her seeing the boy but that hadn’t worked, she was seeing him more than ever. They did, however, take the edge off of her all-consuming grief so she took them religiously.
Alice put the pills in her mouth and raised a glass of water to her lips. In the mirror behind her she saw the boy baring his teeth and drawing his thumb across his throat. She screamed as she spun around. The little blue pills flew from her mouth and the glass in her hand crushed under her grip.
She dropped the shattered glass but not before a shard cut into her palm. Frank burst into the room, took one look at her bleeding hand and swore under his breath.
“Alice.” He shook his head as he grabbed up a towel and wrapped it around her hand. She shrunk with shame at the depth of despair he had conveyed with that one word. “You saw him again didn’t you?”
Alice had stopped admitting when she saw the boy as Frank had started mentioning counselling more and more. She didn’t want to talk to strangers about her grief, it was private. No one could understand the way she felt and she wasn’t inclined to try and make them.
This time however, as Frank tended to her bloody hand, she realised the boy was still there. “Look!” she cried as she pointed as best as her broken arm would let her.
Frank looked over his shoulder. “What?”
“He’s right there!”
“Where?” Frank walked over to the boy, stopped right before him, and pulled the door closed to check behind it. “There’s no one here Alice.”
The boy leant to the side of Frank’s legs and stared at her. A strangled cry escaped her.
“He’s right there in front of you.”
The pitying look Frank gave her made her feel totally and utterly alone. He walked back towards her.
“Please.” She begged. She needed Frank to see him, she couldn’t be going crazy.
The boy bared his teeth in a macabre grin and put his fingers to his lips. “Shhhhhh.”
“Did you hear that?!” Alice cried as she gripped the front of Frank’s shirt.
Frank’s expression told her he hadn’t; it also said her fate was sealed.
***
Alice hated Dr Whyatt. She was judgemental, condescending and when Alice made a statement invariably “how does that make you feel?” would follow.
The doctor was scribbling notes onto Alice’s file while Alice sat opposite in a hospital gown. She sent a pleading look to Frank who sat beside her but he just smiled weakly back and squeezed her hand. He clearly wasn’t going to whisk her back to the haven that was their home any time soon.
Dr Whyatt put down her pen, pushed her glasses up on her nose and fixed Alice with a penetrating look. “I’m concerned Alice.”
“There’s no reason to be.” Alice dropped her eyes to her hands as she had done as a child when being addressed by her headmistress.
“Are you forgetting I’ve just examined your body and seen the damage you’ve done to yourself?”
Alice wasn’t going to forget that humiliation anytime soon. Her head dropped a little more.
“Your grief for your mother is manifesting in these hallucinations.”
“I’m not hallucinating.” Alice mumbled but the lack of conviction in her words was clear even to her.
“Really? Remind me of the episode that first brought you here after the assault charges were made against you.”
“That was different. That was a mistake.”
“Remind me.”
“I thought I saw my mother at the supermarket.” Alice remembered the devastation she’d felt when the woman had turned to reveal a strangers face. She’d known it couldn’t be her mother but for a brief moment hope had flared. “But it wasn’t her.”
“And how did that make you feel?”
“Upset.” Alice replied shortly, desperately wanting to move off the topic.
“Indeed, so upset that you began pelting a woman and her mother with eggs?”
Alice cringed in shame at the memory. The woman and her mother had only approached her to see if she was okay which was understandable considering she was a grown woman crying her heart out in the middle of the produce aisle. One look at them together had filled her with ferocious jealousy. What was so special about this woman that she got to keep her mother when Alice’s had been ripped away from her?
It hadn’t been a conscious decision to throw the eggs, they were just there and she’d hated that woman so, so much.
Alice began biting her nails, a habit her mother had cured her of years before.
“As I said Alice, I’m concerned for you, specifically for your safety. You are going to stay here at the hospital for a while so we can keep an eye on you.”
Alice’s head shot up. “What? No.” She turned to Frank who had a resigned look on his face. “No Frank, take me home.”
“Alice, this is for your own good. You’re hurting yourself and I can’t help you.”
“No, they’re just accidents. I only end up hurting myself because of my reactions to the boy.”
Dr Whyatt and Frank shared a look.
“I’m not crazy!” Alice cried defensively.
“No one is saying that you are, you just need to rest. It’ll only be for a little while.” Frank assured her as he gripped her hands in his.
“But the flowers, the garden, who will take care of them?” She could hear the hysteria creeping into her voice.
“I will Alice, don’t worry I’ll take care of everything.”
“Don’t leave me here.” She pulled her hands from his and fisted his shirt, desperate to keep hold of him. “Please don’t leave me here.”
“I have to Alice. Everything is going to be fine.” He detached her hands from his shirt and she noticed she’d torn a small hole in it. “You’ll see, this is for the best.” His voice was soothing and calm but Alice felt anything but soothed and calmed.
***
Frank let himself into the house and kicked his shoes off. He walked into the lounge and found a pale skinned boy with black eyes sitting on the sofa. He immediately reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.
“Here.” He said as he offered the child forty pounds. The boy took the money. “Now get out of here you creepy fuck.” Frank said as he ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately. “Tell your dad to come and have a beer with me later.”
The boy left and Frank rang directory enquiries.
“Yes, I’d like the number of a realtor in the Epsom area.”
By Dayv Metcalfe
Today was a window box day. At precisely five minutes after she’d locked her front door, Alice unlocked it again, making sure to twist her wrist with a flourish so the little bell that hung on the key ring chimed repeatedly. It chimed three times, the way her mother had always made it do.
The next part of the ritual was the most stressful for Alice. Oxygen was the enemy and she felt it cloaking her, ready to pervade, ready to dilute, as she paused on the doorstep. As fast as she was able, though not as fast as she would like, Alice jerked open the door and rushed inside, quickly shutting the door behind her to block the oxygen’s entry. Her heart beat fast but she focused on calming it so she could savour the rest of the ritual. She took a deep breath through her nose, then another. Tears formed in her eyes as she had to take a third; her mother’s scent was so faint but she knew it wasn’t just the oxygen’s fault. Her brother’s shoes were strewn haphazardly in the entry way tainting the subtle scent of lilac and roses she had come to crave.
Despair welled in her but she managed to tamp it down, she still had the sealed bags of clothes under her bed she could inhale from when her grief became too great. If she was fast with resealing the bag it would be years before oxygen stole her mother’s scent from them.
Alice straightened her brother’s shoes, managing not to scream in frustration, and went to the kitchen. She loved her brother, she truly did. She was just having trouble adjusting. For so long it had just been her and her mother, everything had been calm, pleasant and predictable but now her mother was gone….
Her mother was gone!!!!!!!
And hard times had fallen on her brother, forcing him to move in with her out of necessity.
Alice filled the kettle and switched it on. Tears threatened again as she set out one cup, not two, and she noticed her hands were shaking as she opened the fridge for the milk.
She reached into the fridge for milk and a boy with ghostly pale skin and black eyes stared back at her.
Alice blinked first in incomprehension then, upon registering what she was seeing, flung herself backwards in terror. Her hip clipped the kitchen work bench, flinging her to the ground but within seconds she was up and running, screaming all the time.
She heard thumping down the stairs and then Frank, her brother, was in front of her. “What the hell is wrong?” He demanded.
“In the fridge!” Alice cried and flung herself into the cushions of her mother’s armchair.
“What is it?” Frank frowned.
“Just look in the fridge!” Alice begged.
Frank huffed and marched into the kitchen. “Jesus Christ!” She heard a moment later and felt utterly sure that her big brother was about to save the day. “Alice, what is it with you and smashing eggs? Oh,” he paused awkwardly and stepped back to the doorway to look at her, “is this another episode?”
Alice frowned as she straightened in the armchair. She hated the word episode, or at least she had done since it had been repeatedly used to describe her incident. “Look in the fridge, there’s a boy in the fridge.”
Frank looked into the kitchen and then back at her and gave a deep sigh, a sigh Alice interpreted to be of the exasperated kind, and that made Alice burrow back into the cushions.
“Al, come here.” His tone brooked no argument and Alice begrudgingly uncoiled herself from the beloved armchair and walked into the kitchen to his side. She surveyed the perfectly organised fridge shelving, minus demonic looking child, and a shattered carton of eggs on the kitchen floor in front of the fridge.
“I know what I saw.” She insisted before he could chastise her. “He was in there!”
Frank took Alice’s shoulders and the caring expression on his face nearly broke her. “Alice, maybe we should go back to Doctor Whyatt.”
“I don’t need Doctor Whyatt, I’m fine.” Frank didn’t look convinced. “I’m fine!” Alice repeated and the knowing look Frank gave her made her cringe inside.
“Okay, Alice, I’ll clear up here. You should go and have a nap while I make us dinner.”
***
The fourth time - You will beg for mercy…
Your tears will run dry…
You will beg for death…
The murmurs woke Alice from her slumber. She had that groggy, barely awake feeling when the next murmur sounded.
You will die screaming…
Adrenalin pulsed through her as her eyes shot open with a certainty of danger. The boy with the black eyes was hovering above her, his face inches from hers. Alice screamed for all she was worth and then jack-knifed out of the bed to get away from him. She landed awkwardly and Frank burst into the room discovering his sister cowering against the bedroom wall cradling a broken arm.
***
“Mr Ashurst, could you come with me please?”
Frank frowned but followed the nurse. “Is Alice okay?” He asked as they maneuvered corridor upon corridor.
“The Doctor will talk to you shortly.” The nurse’s shoes squeaked as she transversed the corridors but other than that she made no sound.
“Nurse?”
“The Doctor will talk to you shortly.” She answered tartly as she opened the door to an office and ushered him inside.
Frank was faced with three stern looking, white coat cladded men, each wearing grim looking glasses that made him wonder if they were for effect or necessity.
“Doctors?” He greeted, unsure of the protocol of the situation.
“Tell me about your sister’s wounds.” One of the white coats instructed.
“Ah, as far as I’m aware she got a fright and fell out of bed.”
Lots of scribbling on notepads, lots of meaningful looks to each other; at least to everyone but Frank.
One of the white coats cleared his throat. “You know, Alice has quite a few contusions present on her body alongside from the broken arm.”
Frank knew what they were insinuating and he was a proud man. There were precious few things left in his broken life to be proud of but the fact that he’d never dream of hitting a woman was one of them so he’d be damned before he’d let these doctors accuse him of something he hadn’t done.
“I can assure you I would never lay a hand on my sister and this is not the first time she’s had a fright like this. If you must know she’s seeing an apparition all around our house.”
***
Alice tried to move her fingers in the cast encasing her broken arm but they stayed immobile.
She was officially broken. This made her laugh and she laughed hard, though the sound couldn’t have been described as jovial. The reality was she’d been broken for the last seventy six days and no Band-Aid or plaster cast could come to her rescue.
Two nurses tried to calm her hysterical laughing to no avail and then Frank was there; her Saviour, and she calmed.
“Alice I need to know what happened.” Frank said, looking more tired than she had seen him at his worst.
“The boy was in my room, he was threatening me.”
Frank took a breath, seeming to try and calm himself, and then took the hand of her unbroken arm in his. “Alice, there was no boy. I came straight to your room when you screamed. If there had been a boy in there I would’ve seen him.”
“He was there.”
“And he just disappeared? Like a ghost?”
“Maybe.” Alice frowned. She didn’t believe in ghosts but four times now she’d seen something her brother hadn’t and the boy being a ghost sat a lot better with her than the fact that she may be going crazy.
Frank withdrew his hand and scrubbed it over his face. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes and how thin his face had gotten.
“Alice, we should sell the house, move on, get a fresh start.”
Alice stiffened in horror. They’d had this conversation before, many times, and each time panic gripped her as though he’d get his way. The thought of strangers moving into her mother’s house made her feel nauseous.
“No.”
Frank sighed deeply. “It’s not healthy for you Alice.”
“It’s mum’s house.”
“No, it’s her shrine!” Frank snapped. “I’m not allowed to even open the God damn windows lest her precious scent escape!”
Alice flinched at his tone and he immediately reached for her hand again and gave a weary sigh.
“I’m sorry Alice. I’m just… sorry.”
Alice looked at her brother, really looked at him, and saw how broken he was. For the first time she put her own suffering aside and considered his. He had lost his mother as well but not only that, in quick succession his wife had left him and he’d been declared bankrupt. No wonder he wanted to sell the house he needed a fresh start. And she felt for him, she honestly did, but she couldn’t sell the house. She just couldn’t.
***
The ninth time – Alice stood at the bathroom sink with a towel wrapped around her. The tub was filling with warm water and she had two little blue tablets in her hand. Alice now had a second ritual; take Valium then relax in the tub. She knew she’d been prescribed the pills to stop her seeing the boy but that hadn’t worked, she was seeing him more than ever. They did, however, take the edge off of her all-consuming grief so she took them religiously.
Alice put the pills in her mouth and raised a glass of water to her lips. In the mirror behind her she saw the boy baring his teeth and drawing his thumb across his throat. She screamed as she spun around. The little blue pills flew from her mouth and the glass in her hand crushed under her grip.
She dropped the shattered glass but not before a shard cut into her palm. Frank burst into the room, took one look at her bleeding hand and swore under his breath.
“Alice.” He shook his head as he grabbed up a towel and wrapped it around her hand. She shrunk with shame at the depth of despair he had conveyed with that one word. “You saw him again didn’t you?”
Alice had stopped admitting when she saw the boy as Frank had started mentioning counselling more and more. She didn’t want to talk to strangers about her grief, it was private. No one could understand the way she felt and she wasn’t inclined to try and make them.
This time however, as Frank tended to her bloody hand, she realised the boy was still there. “Look!” she cried as she pointed as best as her broken arm would let her.
Frank looked over his shoulder. “What?”
“He’s right there!”
“Where?” Frank walked over to the boy, stopped right before him, and pulled the door closed to check behind it. “There’s no one here Alice.”
The boy leant to the side of Frank’s legs and stared at her. A strangled cry escaped her.
“He’s right there in front of you.”
The pitying look Frank gave her made her feel totally and utterly alone. He walked back towards her.
“Please.” She begged. She needed Frank to see him, she couldn’t be going crazy.
The boy bared his teeth in a macabre grin and put his fingers to his lips. “Shhhhhh.”
“Did you hear that?!” Alice cried as she gripped the front of Frank’s shirt.
Frank’s expression told her he hadn’t; it also said her fate was sealed.
***
Alice hated Dr Whyatt. She was judgemental, condescending and when Alice made a statement invariably “how does that make you feel?” would follow.
The doctor was scribbling notes onto Alice’s file while Alice sat opposite in a hospital gown. She sent a pleading look to Frank who sat beside her but he just smiled weakly back and squeezed her hand. He clearly wasn’t going to whisk her back to the haven that was their home any time soon.
Dr Whyatt put down her pen, pushed her glasses up on her nose and fixed Alice with a penetrating look. “I’m concerned Alice.”
“There’s no reason to be.” Alice dropped her eyes to her hands as she had done as a child when being addressed by her headmistress.
“Are you forgetting I’ve just examined your body and seen the damage you’ve done to yourself?”
Alice wasn’t going to forget that humiliation anytime soon. Her head dropped a little more.
“Your grief for your mother is manifesting in these hallucinations.”
“I’m not hallucinating.” Alice mumbled but the lack of conviction in her words was clear even to her.
“Really? Remind me of the episode that first brought you here after the assault charges were made against you.”
“That was different. That was a mistake.”
“Remind me.”
“I thought I saw my mother at the supermarket.” Alice remembered the devastation she’d felt when the woman had turned to reveal a strangers face. She’d known it couldn’t be her mother but for a brief moment hope had flared. “But it wasn’t her.”
“And how did that make you feel?”
“Upset.” Alice replied shortly, desperately wanting to move off the topic.
“Indeed, so upset that you began pelting a woman and her mother with eggs?”
Alice cringed in shame at the memory. The woman and her mother had only approached her to see if she was okay which was understandable considering she was a grown woman crying her heart out in the middle of the produce aisle. One look at them together had filled her with ferocious jealousy. What was so special about this woman that she got to keep her mother when Alice’s had been ripped away from her?
It hadn’t been a conscious decision to throw the eggs, they were just there and she’d hated that woman so, so much.
Alice began biting her nails, a habit her mother had cured her of years before.
“As I said Alice, I’m concerned for you, specifically for your safety. You are going to stay here at the hospital for a while so we can keep an eye on you.”
Alice’s head shot up. “What? No.” She turned to Frank who had a resigned look on his face. “No Frank, take me home.”
“Alice, this is for your own good. You’re hurting yourself and I can’t help you.”
“No, they’re just accidents. I only end up hurting myself because of my reactions to the boy.”
Dr Whyatt and Frank shared a look.
“I’m not crazy!” Alice cried defensively.
“No one is saying that you are, you just need to rest. It’ll only be for a little while.” Frank assured her as he gripped her hands in his.
“But the flowers, the garden, who will take care of them?” She could hear the hysteria creeping into her voice.
“I will Alice, don’t worry I’ll take care of everything.”
“Don’t leave me here.” She pulled her hands from his and fisted his shirt, desperate to keep hold of him. “Please don’t leave me here.”
“I have to Alice. Everything is going to be fine.” He detached her hands from his shirt and she noticed she’d torn a small hole in it. “You’ll see, this is for the best.” His voice was soothing and calm but Alice felt anything but soothed and calmed.
***
Frank let himself into the house and kicked his shoes off. He walked into the lounge and found a pale skinned boy with black eyes sitting on the sofa. He immediately reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.
“Here.” He said as he offered the child forty pounds. The boy took the money. “Now get out of here you creepy fuck.” Frank said as he ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately. “Tell your dad to come and have a beer with me later.”
The boy left and Frank rang directory enquiries.
“Yes, I’d like the number of a realtor in the Epsom area.”
By Dayv Metcalfe
Dead Baby (based on a true story)
I remember pissing with him in the 5th floor toilets. I didn’t want to, but we merged at the urinals at the same time, and I was too polite to pull away. He clearly didn’t give a fuck, which made it easy at first because I could adopt the same attitude - we both didn’t give a fuck! He was much better at it than me though, and the urge to say something got tighter and tighter, like cramp.
“Just been at your secretaries PC, helped her with the printer.” It had been an emergency apparently but his grunt sounded like above anything else that had happened in the previous twenty four hours, he gave a fuck about that the least. The sounds of pissing filled the confined area. I could smell it, the man, the CEO of the Rank Organisation, Mike Gifford, could smell it too. Could he detect the smell of sudden unease in my urine? Maybe he could smell last nights weed, maybe he could smell cancer in my piss, and that he was actually extremely discomforted, not wanting to break the news to me. I tried to out slash him but my dribble came quickest, and I turned to wash my hands.
“We didn’t know.” He said, still pissing.
“About the printer? It was just a software problem, no worries.”
“No you goose, about the baby.” I was confused.
“What baby?” He paused, then continued.
“My daughter’s baby, I found it in the chest freezer when I got home last night. She put it in there after she gave birth to it, killed it. Like you do fish, if you want to be humane. We didn’t even know she was pregnant. It’s in the papers today if you hadn’t noticed. Damn it! It was there for weeks. We didn’t notice that either.”
I was dumbfounded, The CEO of Rank had a baby in his freezer for weeks and he didn’t know? I thought of the times I had reached into my freezer to grab whatever to cook, I shuddered and wondered what the hell I could say, but he continued.
“We all knew she was mental, crackers, a loon. She fucked someone, anyone, everyone - the nuts ones want to fuck all the time. She might have had one before, who knows? She’s Machiavellian , she might have disposed of any number of babies through her ways.”
I didn’t want to be there for him to unburden on, I thought that after he would turn on me, for being there to listen. Mr Gifford went on, still pissing. His head stared straight ahead, not looking down at his work and not really looking at the bathroom tiles, but through them as if he were staring out to a distant shoreline. “Do you know what the papers are saying? That we knew, tried to cover it up, I’ve been up all night talking to the police. Covered it up? Jesus wept!” He finally finished pissing, washed his hands and suddenly we were face to face. His grim eyes, usually dismissive and hard had a tinge of hurt. His teeth ground and he smelt of last nights scotch.
He said: “Why do you think she did it? We were good to her, we let her be free even with her mental illness, she never hurt anyone, she was shy, promiscuous but shy. We let her come to the Rank Christmas party, she was a wall flower, a very pretty wall flower, no one knew she was my daughter, you lot got drunk and flirted with her thinking god knows what. She was a very pretty girl.”
I was transported back to the party. Rank owned several hotels in London, that year it was at the Royal Garden in Kensington. We all had a room, we all flirted, some of us hooked up, sneaking into each others rooms. Some of us had sex, including me. I was one of the set of people that can do that, have sex, not care about feelings, others people’s feelings, even my own. I was one of the ‘lot’ he was referring to.
I had met a pretty quiet girl, I thought she was the new secretary. Emma. As I remembered her, a coldness crept up my spine. I had whispered to her, she had smiled. We had gone to my room, both of us understanding what we were doing, ready for easy sex. She had wanted a condom and as her doe eyes shone, she said: “I always use one, in case I have a baby, I had to give one away when I was very young, please you must have one?” I had ignored her, letting passion persuade. I looked back at Mr Glifford, my face suddenly caressed by extreme cold.
“Want to see a photo?” I nodded slowly, the coldness swept down my neck and across my shoulders then down my arms, turning my fingers blue . I began to tremble. He pulled from his wallet a photo of the girl I had sex with, pale and pretty, red lips, dark long hair, sad eyes though, vulnerable eyes. The freeze took my belly and my balls, I felt I would buckle at the knees. Mr Gifford put the photo back in his wallet, his sad hard eyes were flickerless.
“The police might want to talk to you too, very bad business putting a baby in a freezer, people want to know why.”
By Andrew Parker
“Just been at your secretaries PC, helped her with the printer.” It had been an emergency apparently but his grunt sounded like above anything else that had happened in the previous twenty four hours, he gave a fuck about that the least. The sounds of pissing filled the confined area. I could smell it, the man, the CEO of the Rank Organisation, Mike Gifford, could smell it too. Could he detect the smell of sudden unease in my urine? Maybe he could smell last nights weed, maybe he could smell cancer in my piss, and that he was actually extremely discomforted, not wanting to break the news to me. I tried to out slash him but my dribble came quickest, and I turned to wash my hands.
“We didn’t know.” He said, still pissing.
“About the printer? It was just a software problem, no worries.”
“No you goose, about the baby.” I was confused.
“What baby?” He paused, then continued.
“My daughter’s baby, I found it in the chest freezer when I got home last night. She put it in there after she gave birth to it, killed it. Like you do fish, if you want to be humane. We didn’t even know she was pregnant. It’s in the papers today if you hadn’t noticed. Damn it! It was there for weeks. We didn’t notice that either.”
I was dumbfounded, The CEO of Rank had a baby in his freezer for weeks and he didn’t know? I thought of the times I had reached into my freezer to grab whatever to cook, I shuddered and wondered what the hell I could say, but he continued.
“We all knew she was mental, crackers, a loon. She fucked someone, anyone, everyone - the nuts ones want to fuck all the time. She might have had one before, who knows? She’s Machiavellian , she might have disposed of any number of babies through her ways.”
I didn’t want to be there for him to unburden on, I thought that after he would turn on me, for being there to listen. Mr Gifford went on, still pissing. His head stared straight ahead, not looking down at his work and not really looking at the bathroom tiles, but through them as if he were staring out to a distant shoreline. “Do you know what the papers are saying? That we knew, tried to cover it up, I’ve been up all night talking to the police. Covered it up? Jesus wept!” He finally finished pissing, washed his hands and suddenly we were face to face. His grim eyes, usually dismissive and hard had a tinge of hurt. His teeth ground and he smelt of last nights scotch.
He said: “Why do you think she did it? We were good to her, we let her be free even with her mental illness, she never hurt anyone, she was shy, promiscuous but shy. We let her come to the Rank Christmas party, she was a wall flower, a very pretty wall flower, no one knew she was my daughter, you lot got drunk and flirted with her thinking god knows what. She was a very pretty girl.”
I was transported back to the party. Rank owned several hotels in London, that year it was at the Royal Garden in Kensington. We all had a room, we all flirted, some of us hooked up, sneaking into each others rooms. Some of us had sex, including me. I was one of the set of people that can do that, have sex, not care about feelings, others people’s feelings, even my own. I was one of the ‘lot’ he was referring to.
I had met a pretty quiet girl, I thought she was the new secretary. Emma. As I remembered her, a coldness crept up my spine. I had whispered to her, she had smiled. We had gone to my room, both of us understanding what we were doing, ready for easy sex. She had wanted a condom and as her doe eyes shone, she said: “I always use one, in case I have a baby, I had to give one away when I was very young, please you must have one?” I had ignored her, letting passion persuade. I looked back at Mr Glifford, my face suddenly caressed by extreme cold.
“Want to see a photo?” I nodded slowly, the coldness swept down my neck and across my shoulders then down my arms, turning my fingers blue . I began to tremble. He pulled from his wallet a photo of the girl I had sex with, pale and pretty, red lips, dark long hair, sad eyes though, vulnerable eyes. The freeze took my belly and my balls, I felt I would buckle at the knees. Mr Gifford put the photo back in his wallet, his sad hard eyes were flickerless.
“The police might want to talk to you too, very bad business putting a baby in a freezer, people want to know why.”
By Andrew Parker
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