CHAPTER 17

MEETING WITH DARKNESS

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After a refreshing bath, and a couple hours of exercises designed to increase mobility, I felt almost human. It was still difficult to walk without the assistance of a cane, but the doctor reassured me my strength would return quickly. I was surprised at the rate of my recovery. After all, I’d been in a coma for over two decades.

Dr. Solomon explained as we walked through the last set of exercises. “Three times a day, seven days a week, each patient receives a thorough work-over to keep their body from degenerating muscle mass. Every muscle is systematically massaged. Each joint and tendon is flexed and stretched.”

“That’s a lot of massages.” I attempted a smile. “This little vacation is going to cost me a bundle.”

He chuckled. “In addition to the physical workouts, the computer is programmed to periodically stimulate the brain. Every hour on the hour, for ten minutes, a program tells your muscles to tighten and relax, causing a mild cardiovascular workout.”

I was puzzled. “All this is done even though there’s little chance the patients will ever wake up?”

“Yes, because the main purpose is to increase brain activity. The fact that it facilitates a quick recovery turns out to be a nice side effect.”

Side effect? More like a miracle, I thought.

When we finished, I was given some clothes and was allowed to change in the locker room. Dressing was difficult, but at last, I tucked my medical gown into the laundry shoot, then made slow progress over to the bathroom area. Rounding the corner, the reflection of a man in one of the mirrors caught my eye. I turned to see where the reflection was coming from-- but quickly discovered, that I was alone in the room. Slowly I turned back toward the mirror. The face before me was more like my father’s than my own, with wrinkles embedded in its curves, a receding hairline, and a thickness that did not appeal to me. At all.

I stood examining every detail of my features. They had changed dramatically, but strangely, what stood out to me most were my eyes. They seemed-- wrong somehow. They were a greenish hazel, as they had always been, but there was a flash of blue in my memory. The feeling washed over me like a whisper, then was gone. I quickly dismissed it as imagination.

The door in the other room made a soft thud and I heard someone approaching. I stepped away from the mirror, composing myself for the visitor. It was Dr. Solomon. “Found the mirrors I see,” he said with mock humor.

“So it would seem.” I made no attempt to hide my disgust.

“I won’t pretend to know how you feel, but I realize it must be tough,” he said gently. “What do you say we go get something to eat? I can bring you up to speed on some things.”

“Sure.” I made an attempt to sound positive. “That sounds appealing.”

He gave me a friendly smile and gripped me in a half hug. “Well, let’s go do it then.”

He helped me through the locker room and out into the hall. During our walk down the long white corridor, only one person passed us.

“Where is everyone?”

“I noticed your reaction when we entered the hall earlier, so I had the way cleared, and the cafeteria as well. Eventually you will feel more comfortable, but for now we’ll take it one step at a time.”

“Thank you.” It did make me feel better. I didn’t like the idea of parading around like some stone age freak show. In my weakened state, I felt like a frail old man. This was not a condition I was used to. I was a man of power and influence, not someone to be pitied.

The doors to the cafeteria opened before us and the sweet smells of breakfast filled my nostrils. My mouth watered. I hadn't noticed before, but I was extremely hungry.

Dr. Solomon headed off to the beverage table. I dug into the breakfast buffet: eggs, toast, sausage, bacon, hash browns, fruit, even pancakes. My tray was heavy under the weight of the farmer’s breakfast. So I stood waiting for assistance to carry it to a table.

When the doctor returned, he looked at the tray, looked at me, and raised one eyebrow. “You’ve gone a long time without eating, Thomas. You need to start out slowly.” He held out a chocolate shake in a glass. “Here, try this.”

I gave it an unwelcoming stare.

“Here.” He held it closer. “Give it a try.”

Slowly I took it from him and had a sip. “Hmm. Not bad.”

“It’s organic and full of living vitamins. It will assist in your recovery.” He patted me on the shoulder.

We headed toward a large window overlooking the parking lot, I blinked in the morning light. White and gray buildings littered the asphalt grounds. In the distance, a fence that looked like it surrounded the entire compound stretched out of sight. “Are all these buildings involved in this project?” I said, taking a seat across from him.

“Most, but not all.”

“It must be very important.”

“Some think so.”

“So, what’s the big deal about a few coma patients?” I took a sip from my shake.

His eyes turned down. “It wasn’t always a big deal.”

“Oh?” I stared out at the parking lot.

“Originally it was a small offshoot of a project my colleague and I were working on for the government. But then this colleague, who was also a good friend of mine, was severely injured in a car accident, which put him in a coma. It was my hope that by using the technology we’d designed together, I could communicate with him through the computer to find a way to bring him out.”

“Communicate with him through the computer?”

That got my attention.

“Yes. But when I proposed the project to the government, they wanted nothing to do with it. I tried to explain that Robert was an integral part of the existing project, and that it would be very useful for them to get him back, but they were less than optimistic about any chance of success. They assumed that by the time I figured out how to reach him, if it was even possible, that he would be a vegetable. So they refused funding.”

“But you managed to get the project going anyway.”

“Yes. That’s where you and the others came in. You are all from wealthy homes. Your families are funding this project.” He stopped and looked around cautiously. “But things have changed recently. The government brought up a legal complaint a few weeks ago, about my using technology developed for the government in a personal venture.” He leaned in close. “But at that time, I had started talking with Robert, or, who I thought was Robert.”

I squinted at him. “You actually talked with a coma patient through the computer?”

“Yes. By using part of the technology we were developing for the government, we created a system that could talk directly to the human brain, and vice versa.”

I looked at him sideways.

He continued. “We were unsure of how to start the dialog because the comatose mind is unresponsive, so we left the computer to input stimuli until a response was registered. I used VRIN, the virtual world we designed for the government, to create a base environment my friend could relate to. But it has changed so much that it isn’t even the same creature anymore. Anyway, now that we’ve had some success, the government wants in again. They threatened to shut us down if I didn't cooperate, so I was forced to let them take control.”

I stared at him. “Amazing. I can see why the government wanted back in.”

“Yes, well we weren’t happy about it. But if I didn't comply, they were going to take me to court, and if they won, they were going to shut me out completely. I wasn't about to let that happen, so I agreed to cooperate. The families were given the option of withdrawing or allowing the government to take over, the latter reducing their financial commitment. So everyone agreed to continue on. But now, guards are posted at the gate, security has tripled, and military experts examine every log we create. We can’t even leave the grounds without an escort. It’s like a prison in here.”

“And there’s nothing you can do about it?”

“No. The military gave everyone the option of staying or leaving. We're stuck here now.”

“We? What about me? Are they going to try to keep me here?”

The seriousness in his face vanished and was replaced by a jovial expression. “Of course they will. There are many things that will amaze you about the lab.” I felt a slow pressure on my foot. “There is so much to show you. It’s all quite fascinating.”

There was a noise near the door. I pivoted to see a guard looking in our direction. I gave him a wave and a smile, and turned back to the doctor. “Yeah, it seems really cool,” I said, trying to act oblivious to the tension in the room.

“It is that indeed,” he returned, continuing to sound happy. I heard the doors open and close, and the doctor’s face dropped again. “Things are much worse than I’ve had a chance to explain. It looks like my time with you is running out.”

“I’m beginning to get a little nervous, Doc.”

“I’m sorry it had to be like this. I wanted to explain everything so you would understand my position. My only intention was to help my friend. If it helped you and the others in the process, that was good too, but things are getting out of control. Strange men in suits have been showing up. Weird demands are being placed on us. It appears the project is being undermined, like they're afraid of what we might find in there.”

“In where? In the computer?”

“No, in the minds of the patients. It’s not about the computer anymore. Something is going on. We don't understand the implications.” He paused.

“Implications...?”

“Of Vrin. It’s gone far beyond the original project specifications. There are elements in the texts which are completely baffling.” His face went smooth and his smile reappeared. “So are you almost finished?”

“Yes, thank you,” I said, matching his mood.

“Then let’s give you a tour of the lab.”

As I got up, I ventured another glance at the doors. A different man was standing at the entrance. He was dressed in a dark blue suit. His face was stern. “Who’s that?” I asked innocently.

“That’s Mr. Philips. He is,” the doctor hesitated, “ah-- responsible for security in the building.”

We walked over and deposited our trays. The man watched quietly as we passed. “Hello,” I said, trying to convey a relaxed friendly bearing over my nervous interior.

We continued on into the hall and down toward the lab. “There is much more to tell,” the doctor said.

I caught his double meaning.

Perhaps I should have stayed in the coma I thought. Instead of finding out about my family, here I was, stuck in some weird cloak and dagger game. I wanted to whisper more questions, but thought it prudent to wait for the doctor to resume the conversation. The doors to the lab opened and the warm light of the monitors touched my face. A few people in white lab coats were busy working, and I received a couple of curious glances, but nothing more.

“Come over here to my office,” said Dr. Solomon. We stepped in and he closed the glass door. With his back to the door, he put his finger to his lips. I remained silent as he reached into his desk drawer. I heard a beep and after a few seconds, he looked up. “It’s okay. We can talk for a little, but they'll be suspicious if we take too long. Have a seat, and keep your expressions neutral.”

“Okay,” I said, faking a smile, and looking out the glass wall of the office.

“I’m about to say something distressing. Remain calm please,” he said with a straight empty face. “Your life is in danger, but I am going to help you. It is important that you trust me. Do you trust me?”

“Do I have a choice?” I found it difficult to remain expressionless.

“No.” He leaned forward and slid a small pill in my direction. “Place this capsule in your mouth without drawing suspicion, but do not chew.”

I looked out the large glass. No one was looking, so I turned slightly and inserted the capsule into the rear of my mouth.

“It is the antidote to a poison which will be administered to you. Even though the pill will work, you will feel a paralysis, and will be unable to move for a time. This is important to the illusion that you're dead.”

The illusion that I’m dead? I did not like the sound of that one bit! He was going to poison me? My God! Had the world gone mad while I was sleeping?

“Okay.” He smiled. “Let’s go put on a show. You all right?”

“I’m scared stiff,” I said, barely keeping my composure.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way. And listen. There is one thing I want you to do when you get out of here. A package will be provided for you. In it will be a green packet. Mail it to the address on the envelope.”

“If this works,” I said sarcastically.

He stood and opened the door. “It has to.”

We stepped out onto the floor, and he guided me back to my bed. “Sit down, Thomas. There you go.” He smiled as I did as he requested. “Now, we are going to do a few tests to make sure you are in full capacity, then I’ll give you that tour I’ve been promising.”

“Cool,” I said, trying desperately to sound excited.

He directed me to lie back down. The bed was soft beneath me. It was hard when I first came to, but now it was soft and squishy. The doctor prepped a few things, then performed a series of tests, all the while glancing at the door. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a green light next to the door came on. The doctor looked at me nervously. “That’s almost it, now let me see your arm.” He produced a needle and flicked it with his finger. “This will only hurt for a second.”

I flinched as the needle sank into my arm, and within seconds the room began to spin. My joints ached and my jaw began to tighten involuntarily. I felt the pill crush between my back teeth. Bitterness filled my mouth. It was a good thing the pill was between my teeth, there wouldn’t have been a second chance.

I must have lost consciousness, because instantly two figures were standing over me. I squinted and tried to focus on them. One was the man I'd seen in the cafeteria, and the other-- was my mother! Tears welled up in my eyes. She looked concerned, but I could say nothing to console her. I felt her hand take mine. Slowly I tracked her with my eyes. She had aged so much. I tried to speak but my voice was caught in my throat. “Mmmm,” was all I could get out.

“Thomas?” she said, her chest heaving with emotion. “Are you okay?”

I heard the doctor’s voice. “This is the most coherent he’s been, and I’m afraid his condition is deteriorating. We’re not sure what brought him out, but his mind has been through too much,” he said gently. “I’m sorry Mrs. Tardin-- but we do not believe he will make it.”

With great effort, I reached out and touched her hand. Her skin felt like rubber in my grasp. She began to cry as her body pressed down against mine. “No!” she said, taking me into her arms. “He has to make it. You’ve come so far, Thomas!” she sobbed. “You can do it!”

Again I tried to speak. “Maaaaam.”

“That’s it, Thomas! I’m here with you! You can do this!” But her words were useless. Off in the distance, I heard the heart monitor go flat line. My mother shook me tightly in her grasp. “No! NO! He can’t die! He was here! He was alive! He can’t DIE!”

The pain, and the frantic screams of my mother, were left far behind, as I drifted away into darkness.