by Bob'n Around
Invisible matters of the mind turned real into the written word.
|“There’s a problem with the product.” Sully Moore refused to budge.
“It works, doesn’t it?” Lead scientist, Harry Evans, pointed to the animal cages. The evidence was in plain sight. The current test session revealed the metamorphosis of an old rat on an examination table learning new tricks.
The two researchers watched in awe. The thing had been brutalized beyond belief, surgically cut and spread open, it lay barely moving ready for death. Electrical probes attached inside and out recorded what happened next.
“Rats rarely live longer than two years. This one is on its last legs. I personally raised it from a pup.” Harry Evans flipped a switch. A pearl drop of moisture wept from the end of a needle plunged into the rat’s viscera.
“It works too well,” Sully Moore rocked on his heels, fasciation in his gaze.
“Physician, heal thyself,” Harry Evans prayed aloud.
Wounds healed before their eyes. The rat twitched. Recording probes popped out. A vibrant animal, glowing with health, blinked its black beady eyes, squeaked, and appeared to grow younger stil.
“Watch,” Harry Evans said. A cleaver in hand raised and lowered, cutting the rat in two. Both severed ends jumped, wiggled back together, even to the smallest evidence of lost blood and guts. “Voila. We have conquered death.”
“The problem remains,” Sully Moore lifted the traumatized creature up. He wore thick padded gloves woven with armor to prevent savagely intended bites reaching skin. The rat thrashed, long teeth hunting revenge against nimble fingers. “We can’t hide it any longer. Subjects never stop growing younger until they turn into orgismic glue at conception to die before they are born.”
“It is why I brought you in.” Harry Evans produced a shiny new syringe and needle. “While your section worked on our ‘Fountain of Youth’, I’ve been working on a stasis binder. I can stop the residual effect at any time.”
He triumphantly speared the rat’s midsection and emptied the plunger. The rat shuddered into immobility, curled up and slept. Harry Evans plucked the animal up by its tail to drop the thing back into a cage. “What do you think of that? Twice the money for twice the product. Results guaranteed.”
“You’ve started shipping haven’t you?” Sully Moore prodded. “To specialized old and diseased customers chronically ill, who are willing to take the risk. No questions asked, privately funding your work under the table. I’ve heard hints and rumors too horrible to be believed.”
The first uneasy glance was shared between the two researchers. “A few. Just enough to keep things going. “It is why I called you in. Adjustments need to be made, only you can provide,” Harry Evans said.
“No way, if what i’ve heard is true. What you are doing is not only unethical, it is pure torture to those you treat. Their bodies memorize what they’ve gone through. Hiccups occur. Flashbacks. Their moments of near death spontaneously lived all over again.” Sully Moore’s eyes strayed from the rat, cleaving itself into two aging separate parts only to reform back together to grow younger.
The gun appearing in Harry Evans’ hand barked. Pain flared into unbelievable agony in Sully Moore’s chest. The scalpel in his hand thrust and carved itself against the head researcher’s throat.
“Can’t have that.” Edward Marker, Project business partner stood over two hospital beds, regarding the patients. “Too much stress. Time to get back to work again, boys.”
Revolving cameras placed in each project room were replicated in this one. “Good thing I took necessary precautions. My aides, watching you, shot you up before you passed away. Now, you’ll be personally motivated to figure out how to remove that awkward glitch.”
Harry Evan’s gulped, feeling the scalpel sear through his throat, making it impossible to swallow. A moment later he was whole. Sully Moore felt his heart stop where the impact of a bullet had initially made way. The blackness of death gave way to reconstituted perfect youthful vigor. He massaged his chest with the realization, anytime he felt stress this might happen again.
“Mother nature’s perfect revenge is sweet, is it not? Better get busy, boys. Jesus Christ.” Edward Marker hated the public exposure he went through of his mistress poisoning him into rictus for two-timing her, and leaving him for dead before his aides got to him in the nick of time. It never got any easier resurrecting himself.
He wondered, not for the first time, at the bible’s reference of the dear Lord and Savior showing the holes in his hands from hanging on the cross to his disciples. So, was this what it felt like when he took upon himself the pains of the world, doing away with death.
Scientific evidence was hard to take. Becoming God like wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.