I don't understand...
I'm in the perfect mood to write right now. My brain is hyped up on coffee and imagination, I have thousands of ideas running through my mind, and I DON'T WANT TO WRITE FOR CLASS. It's even for creative writing! The problem is that I want to write other stuff. Dangit. Oh well, I guess I'll buckle down and do it. *sigh*
Aaaand, here it is. It's a "Monkey's Paw" type story, where the protagonist gets something he really wants, and then discovers that he really doesn't want it.
Nate adjusted his labcoat and goggles, suppressed a yawn, and walked to the next rat cage.
“Doc, you planning on going home at some point, or are you just gonna spend the night?”
“Just a few more hours. I'm going to run tests on the results of the latest formula so far. You can leave if you like. I can handle this on my own.”
The student shook his head.
“Doc, you need to get a life outside the lab. This ain't healthy. The rats will be there in the morning.”
“Thank you for your concern, Sam. Good evening.”
Sam stared for a moment at his mentor. He understood his motivation, but sometimes a man just has to let things go.
At the sound of the door closing, Nate glanced in its direction. He knew Sam meant well, but he had to do this.
Both of Nate's parents had died from cancer before his 25th birthday. Their deaths had prompted his entry into the research side of medicine. There were plenty of doctors who wanted to deal with sick people; Nate wanted to deal with diseases.
He had already been instrumental in developing new medicines that had proven themselves in clinical trials, and he wasn't even 40 yet. His ultimate goal, however, was nothing short of a total cure. His colleagues, especially the older ones, tried to hide their smiles and congratulating him on being so ambitious. Nate had shrugged off their friendly arms and went to the lab to begin his research. Shortly thereafter, they had begun seeing the results of his extra time.
While the machines were running the samples he'd collected from the rats, Nat put on a pot of coffee. Allowing himself a moment of fancy, he imagined all that could be accomplished without the time constraints applied by the need for sleep, food, or eventual death.
The key to the cure, he told himself, was putting in enough lab time. Others in his field worked hard, but there was a shortage of time. A lot could be done in a doctor's lifetime--the past fifty years were plenty evidence of that--but if a single person could work for a hundred years on a single problem, with the assistance of others, younger and older, the results would be enormous. He imagined what would have been discovered if Newton had lived twice as long. Or the advances in medicine if Joseph Lister had.
The sound of the door swishing across the floor as it opened caught his attention. His eyes snapped to the frame, which was currently filled with a tall businessman.
“Good evening, Dr. Sawyer. Working hard?” The man's voice should have been pleasant.
“Who are you and how did you get into the lab?”
“Now, Doctor, I've come to offer you a gift. Is that how you should treat someone who wants to help you?” Something was wrong about his eyes, too. The pupils didn't seem quite right.
“There is nothing you have that I want, I am sure. Please leave.”
The business man laughed, throwing his head back and revealing teeth that seemed a trifle too sharp. Nate glared at him over the top of his glasses and pulled out his cell phone to call the police.
“Come now, that's not necessary. Just hear me out?”
“You have five minutes, mister, and then I'm going to call the police.”
“What if I told you I know how to give you anything you desire, beyond even money and fame? What if I told you I knew all the secrets the universe held, including everything you have yet to discover?” He watched the doctor closely, wearing a smirk.
“I'd tell you that you should probably look into some good counseling and that you should leave my laboratory. I would also tell you that I am not interested in your mood-altering substances, thanks.” The coffee pot finished gurgling, giving Nate an excuse to brush past his unwelcome visitor.
As Nate poured his own mood altering substance into a plain white mug, the businessman continued talking.
“I'm not talking about drugs here, my friend. You don't have to take a pill or get a shot. All you have to do is listen to me and then decide.”
The youngish doctor resumed his seat, coffee in hand, and looked at the man.
“What's your name? You seem to know mine, somehow, so it seems only fair that I learn yours.”
“You can call me Wile,” he answered.
“Is your name Wile?” The doctor didn't like dealing with someone who wouldn't even reveal his name.
He shrugged. “It works.”
“I'll give you until I finish my coffee to convince me.” Nate knew it would take at least that long for the test results to come back.
Wile pulled a file from a briefcase Nate hadn't noticed before. Opening it, his yellow eyes scanned the page a moment.
“Dr. Nathaniel Sawyer, age thirty-six,” his finger drew an invisible zigzag down the page as he hit key points. “Height, weight, love life...Here we go. Desire: To live forever. That's a tall order, doc.”
“I never said I wanted to live forever,” Nate protested, trying to hide his embarrassment. It was true, though, he'd never said anything about it aloud.
“Doesn't matter. You do want to live forever, right?” Wile had managed to intrude upon Nate's personal space before the doctor noticed. When he looked up to deny the statement, he noticed. He also noticed the way that Wile smelled like the outdoors, and it struck him how uncommon that was for a businessman, especially in the city.
“It's impossible,” he persisted.
That grin flashed again. “Anything's possible.”
“I am a scientist, ‘Wile.’ Furthermore, I am a busy medical scientist who has work to do. I do not have time to waste on this. Unless you can give me proof that your hocus pocus will really extend my life indefinitely, I’m afraid I must dismiss it as foolishness.”
Nate gave the other man a glare that had sent many lab techs and med students happily packing from the lab. Unfortunately Wile just found it amusing.
“Proof, eh? Well, I won’t be giving you invulnerability, so we can’t have you try to hurt yourself as proof. But I can give you a glimpse into the future. Show you what can be accomplished with a life not bound by time.”
The doctor was tempted. He wasn’t sure if it was the late hour, the past couple of months with no visible progress, or his own recent depression upon realizing how difficult his dream would be to achieve.
“Fine. I’ll accept that as proof, and if I’m satisfied your method will make me live forever, then I’ll take it,” he felt silly saying the words, but he couldn’t not say them. Not with the slightest possibility that this person-not a human, Nate began to see-was telling the truth.
“How about this,” Wile offered, looking far too smug, “I’ll show you what living forever looks like, and you tell me whether or not you want it.”
Nate nodded, ready to go ahead and get this over with. Of course he would want it, if it was possible. There was nothing he wanted more.
“Ready?” Wile placed his hands on Nate’s shoulders and, at the doctor’s nod, squeezed slightly and closed his eyes.
Feeling slightly dizzy, Nate looked around. He was still in the coffee room. The clock read a single minute past where it had been last time he looked at it.
Raising his eyebrow at the businessman, he smirked, hiding his disappointment.
“This doesn’t look like a glimpse of my extended life to me, Mr. Wile. I’m afraid you leave much to be desired in the way of gifts.”
“Just wait,” Wile shook his head, “I’m not going to show you the end results right away. I want you to get the full feel of what your life will be like if you accept my gift.”
Just as Nate was about to ask about the reason the room didn’t look any different, Sam walked into the coffee room. There was something different about him, though. He looked exhausted and his hair was styled differently than usual.
“Yes yes, Dr. Sawyer, I understand. I’ll change the solution right away. Please be patient just a little longer.”
The younger man’s mouth gaped in a yawn as he poured his coffee. He mumbled to himself as he did so, and his words surprised Nate.
“Damn impossible doctor. Thinks he’s got all the answers. Doesn’t accept that others need to sleep and eat and have lives. Rebecca nearly broke up with me because of all the work I put in for that maniac…”
Nate looked at Wile, eyes wide. Wile winked in return.
“We’re just getting glimpses. It’s a little like…well, I suppose you could liken it to watching television. You see the actors, but they don’t see you. Well, they won’t see you unless I decide they can. But I won’t do that to you.”
Not quite eased by that remark, but convinced that Sam couldn’t see him, Nate kept watching. The pair walked into the lab, which showed progress where the break room hadn’t. New equipment, larger machines, and more rat cages proved that some time had passed.
At one of the computer screens stood Nate, looking almost exactly the same. His hair was a little longer, which the original Nate realized was also the difference with Sam, and his face was a little harder. Usually Nate tried to wear smiles and kind expressions in the lab, as it made the techs and students less likely to screw up due to nervousness. This Nate, however, didn’t care about the students or techs. All he cared about were the results.
“Ok, so I get a little meaner. That can happen with age, I hear. And if I haven’t gotten any good results lately, I could see myself losing some of my cheer. This doesn’t prove your point, you know.”
Wile just smiled, gripped Nate’s shoulders again, and closed his eyes.
Surmising that the dizzy sensation came with the trip, Nate took a couple of large breaths to settle his stomach.
This time they were still in the lab, and it looked very similar to how it did before they closed their eyes. The differences, however, were in the people.
This late at night, and the digital clock on the computer affirmed that the hour was the same as before, the lab should be nearly empty. There shouldn’t be six doctors and a dozen techs and students running around.
“You’ve got more important things, do you? That’s fine. I’m sure you can find a job more suited to your schedule. This lab doesn’t need someone working in it who isn’t willing to make the consequences.”
Other Nate’s voice held a permeating chill. Original Nate gasped slightly when he saw that the person being fired was none other than Sam. Sam looked older than before, even though Nate looked the same. His face began to take lines from stress and long hours. The black hair by his ears started to fade to gray.
“Alright Nate. If that’s what you want. I wish I could say I’ve enjoyed working with you. Have a nice life.” Sam’s voice betrayed some of the hurt his face managed to hide.
“Why would I do that? Sam’s a student. If he stays with me this long, I know I wouldn’t be so cold to him. He looks up to me!” Original Nate couldn’t accept this. It was wrong.
“What should you care for Sam? He’ll never understand you. If you live forever, who does understand you? Obviously, he rejected your longevity, and you rejected his rejection. This other bit is just for show.” Wile’s voice was as cheerful as ever, and Nate wanted to punch him.
“I’m sure I’m just getting used to it there. Like you said, Sam must have rejected me for my long life. He must be jealous.” Nate tried to reason with himself, but he wasn’t terribly convincing.
“Let’s see how you do a little later, hmm?”
Pressure on his shoulders, darkness, and nausea.
This time they weren’t even in the lab. The office was large, luxurious, but strangely impersonal. No smiling pictures of the wife and kids sitting on the desk, no little toys to draw attention from work. Just burgundy and walnut furniture, impersonal decorations that likely came with the room, and a man sitting at the large desk.
His expression was so inhuman that Nate didn’t recognize him at first. Upon second glance, however, he realized he was looking at himself again.
“A Dr. Hangbok to see you, sir,” the young woman stood timidly in the doorway. She obviously disliked being in this man’s presence.
“Send him in. Tell security to be here in three minutes.”
“Yes sir.” The door closed.
When it opened again, a man in his sixties stood there. His hair still held some black and his eyes were a dark coal that Nate recognized. They were blazing now.
“Nate, this isn’t right. You knew those recent samples weren’t ready for clinical trials yet. Why did you let them go through?” Sam’s voice sounded rougher, but it was still as distinct as ever.
“Sam,” Other Nate feigned smiling, “Sometimes you have to take risks. The results, you must admit, were greater than any before.”
“And so were the horrors! What about the Hippocratic Oath? What about the desire to actually help people?” Sam’s voice cracked, hinting that more than anger drove him here.
“I don’t know what you could possibly be insinuating. I haven’t hurt anyone.” This time Other Nate didn’t make any attempts at smiling.
“You haven’t-? What do you mean? There were literally hundreds in that last trial-” he cut himself off, gesturing wildly, forgetting how to make himself understood. Or perhaps he realized that Nate no longer possessed what it took to understand.
Two guards with pistols at their hips hurried into the office. Sam didn’t even attempt to resist. Other Nate simply turned back to his work.
Pressure, darkness, but no dizziness because Nate had somehow gotten used to this.
They stood in the same office. This time the Other Nate stood at the window instead of sitting at his desk.
Nate saw a familiar expression on his face, but he couldn’t place it.
To the west, at a green cemetery, a small crowd gathered to see off the dearly departed. Nate knew somehow that he was witnessing Sam’s funeral. Other Nate didn’t look in that direction.
His eyes traced the movements of the people below, watching to see where they went, what they did, how they did it. He neither smiled nor frowned, simply holding his mouth closed while he concentrated.
This time, along with the pressure and darkness, Nate felt like he was falling.
When he opened his eyes, he was back in the coffee room. A white coffee cup sat on the table. A touch told Nate it was still warm.
He sat down in a daze, looking a little lost.
A few feet away, Wile looked through Nate’s file again. Grinning at something he saw there, he pulled out two manila folders and placed them in front of Nate.
“If you decide that you want to live forever, you should open this folder,” he told Nate, placing it on one side of the doctor. “If you decide that you don’t, you should open this folder,” he continued, placing it on the other side. “Whichever you open first will be representative of your choice. The other won’t have anything in it when you open it afterwards.”
Wile looked at his watch and yawned, showing teeth that were even more pointed than before.
“Well, Nate, it’s been fun. I look forward to seeing what you decide.”
As they shook hands, Nate noted absently that Wile’s fingernails were unusually long for a businessman.
Nate shuddered when he realized, finally, why the expression on his face had been so familiar that last time. It was exactly the same expression he used when watching the rats in their cages.
He grabbed one of the folders and opened it.
Coyote threw his head back once more and laughed, shucking the suit jacket and revealing brown fur. Humans weren’t as silly as they seemed, sometimes.
Alright, this is what I'm submitting to my prof. I REALLY need to give it at least a once-over, but oh well. I'll tell him I'm letting it sit for a while before I look at it again.