By Judd Baker of Morpheus Unbound
His voice had dominated the lecture hall, vibrant, enthused. "This brings upon the dawn of an entire new age in drug therapy - no more guessing, no more adjusting and readjusting of monthly dosages. What we see the seeds of here is complete and permanent results for mood alteration." He paused then, looking at the students. "And as such, it would have profound effects on the field of mental health as we know it today. But, if such a drug were to be fully developed, its applications would not stop there..." How little did I know what he had actually meant.
The rest of the lecture had detailed his current research, the directions he planned on taking. The subject matter enthralled me. One of my best friends had been diagnosed with a 'chemical imbalance,' but had committed suicide before the treatments had been calibrated correctly. The idea of a cure-all drug for mood disorders fascinated me. Were there universal constants in the human physiological makeup that could be tweaked just so? Tweaked just once, and then fixed for life? I couldn't let the idea die. I approached the man after his lecture, and asked to help him in his research. The expression on his face could best be described as patronizing.
"I appreciate your enthusiasm, young man, but what reason would I have to take you in on my project? I already have capable assistants." He began to pack his notes into his satchel, folding over the top.
I swallowed, ready for the question. "I'm graduating in a month with a psychology major and a chemistry minor. My current GPA is 3.98, and I participated in a select internship program at the Bradford clinic last year. Dr. Bennet, I'm probably the most qualified person you'll find for an assistant, and I won't even ask for more than your least-paid employee." I gambled that he'd like the initiative of mentioning pay.
"Indeed." He smiled tightly, lifting his satchel off the podium, carrying it at his side. "But I hardly believe you're applying for my sake, are you, Mr....?"
"Tate. Alexander Tate. And no I'm not. You're working in the field I want to go into. I have a few job offers, but none of them hit anywhere as close as you do. I won't have a better opportunity." I followed him as he began to leave the hall.
"I see. " He walked outside, then stopped, looking at me. "You've told me I should hire you because you're academically qualified, you've told me I should hire you to further your career. ÅYet I don't gather you're that extremely career oriented, are you? What's the real reason you want to work on my project?"
My eyes met his, saw them staring back at me with keen awareness. I looked away, at the ground. "My friend..." I began, not knowing if this was what he wanted to hear or not. "My friend committed suicide, because they didn't get him the correct dosage of medication. If the drug you're working on... If he'd had that, he'd still be around." I thought I sounded pathetic. I made a habit of trying not to think of Eric's death, and speaking of it had make my voice a little weaker than I had wanted it to. It had happened three years ago, and I still had to blink back tears.
Bennet nodded. "Good. I need people, Alex, not automatons. People who can feel, who know exactly why they're doing the work they are. Meet me at my lab on Monday, eight a.m." He handed me his card, and walked away. People, not automatons. Oh, the irony.
Weeks passed uneventfully. I was taught the basics of his research, introduced slowly to the complexities. College became a chore, and by the end of the month I was ready to move to full-te work. The lab was where the real learning was taking place.
A few months after I graduated, I had become Dr. Bennet's personal assistant. Many of his colleagues had other projects that took their time, and Bennet's other aides had all received other job offers, and taken them. Progress in the research was moving rapidly, chemical solutions were matching the expected results. Bennet and I were the only researchers on his project directly, and we were the only ones really needed. And then there was Heather.
Heather had been hired on as a secretary for the lab complex that we worked in, some four weeks after I had graduated college. She, like myself, had just graduated from college, though she had majored in computer science. We began to eat lunch together, then dinner on occasion. Our status as acquaintances grew steadily into a friendship, and then into a relationship. Looking back, I suppose that I should have noticed Bennet's jealous glances towards me when I would return from lunch, or when Heather and I would greet in the morning before work. Though I'm not sure I could have done anything differently if I had.
A year had passed since I had been hired. Heather and I had become lovers, and moved into the same apartment. She had been hired by another scientist in the lab complex as to work on a statistics program, and I had continued with my original research with Dr. Bennet. Bennet and I had grown steadily apart, even though we were never that close to begin with. I never really caught on to why that happened, and even though I kick myself for it now, I'm not sure if there was any way I could have stopped it. But I finally began to notice the deadly glares he would give me and Heather when we were together, and after lunch one day decided to ask him about them. He attempted to dismiss the issue.
"Pardon?" He had pushed his glasses up on his nose, turning away in that manner he had that said, 'this subject bores me.'
"I was just wondering why you give me and Heather the evil eye whenever we're in the room." I tried to sound casual, but the looks were really beginning to bother me.
He jotted some results down on a notepad, frowning. "You must be mistaken."
"I don't think so. C'mon Bennet, what's up? If something's bothering you..."
He turned to look at me then, and his eyes grew a shade darker as he regarded me. "You really wish to know?"
I nodded. "Yeah, I do."
He set the notepad down, then, turning away from me. Taking a step away from me, he clasped his hands behind his back. "Heather..." he began, his tone somewhat nostalgic, though definitely marked with bitterness, "is an almost exact image of my wife."
"Your wife?" At that point, I hadn't known he was ever married.
"Yes," he replied with distaste. "We divorced seven years ago."
I nodded. "Oh, I see...."
"No, Alex, I don't think you do. My wife and I divorced becaÅuse I had found her sleeping with my colleague." His voice dropped, turning almost into a low growl. "They both betrayed me, Alex." I swallowed, unsure of what to say. "They took my trust and betrayed me. I had loved her..." He trailed off for a moment, his fist white-knuckled around the edge of the counter. "But, they are gone now, out of my life. Heather brings back too many of those painful memories." His voice sounded more in control that time, which helped me relax as well.
"I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't know..." God, that sounded lame. And I bet me being his only research partner didn't help at all with the reflections he saw.
He mustered a slight grin, turning back to me. "No, how could you? Now, if your curiosity has been satisfied, can we return to work?" I nodded dumbly and complied.
The next week went by, the relations between Bennet and I more tense than they had been. I had tried to keep Heather out of the lab proper, and told her why. Bennet began to work late more, and I was content to monitor the results of the experiments, letting him divine the conclusions. We had tested lab rats with the preliminary chemical sutions, and each test came out positive. Lower mammals had constants in their genetic makeup that allowed the drug to work. All the research we had done told us that humans held the same type of constants. With minor modifications to allow for mankind's own unique genetic structure, the solutions that we used on the lab rats would most likely work on people as well. It was remarkable. The day after the culmination of our research had been achieved, I came to work ready to write up the final documentation.
I hadn't went immediately to my area of the lab complex, however. Heather had made a practice of leaving for work early, as she had been putting in extra hours of late in her department. So as I often did, I went to visit her before I began my own work of the day, hoping to catch her on a brief break. She wasn't at her desk though, and her colleagues hadn't seen her. I was worried, but only slightly. Either she was there, but merely hadn't been seen yet, or had needed to stop somewhere on her way to work. I toyed with the idea of waiting for her - I still had another fifteen minutes before I needed to get to my own work, but decided to start the day ahead of schedule anyway. I was beyond surprised when I found Dr. Bennet waiting for me in the lab, with Heather lying asleep on the operating table next to him.
"What's... What's going on?" I stammered.
Bennet turned to face me briefly, then returned to the test tube he was measuring chemicals into. "Oh, good. You're here. Prepare her for injection." He nodded briefly to Heather's body.
"What? No! What are you going to do?" I moved over to Heather, removing the nylon straps that held her to he table.
"We need a human test subject to verify the ultimate results on our data. Heather... " He paused, slightly enough that I almost didn't notice it. "Volunteered."
The red marks that I could make out on her cheek told me otherwise. "Look, Bennet, you'll excuse me if I don't quite believe that. Besides, we don't need to test it ourselves. If the APA or some other organizations wants to after they've read our report, let them. We don't..." My eyes drifted to the solutions he was using. "That's not our standard mix."
"No, of course not. It's unfathomably easy to merely turn off an emotion, or turn one on that's being blocked." A strange glint flickered in his eye as he held his freshly filled syringe to the light. "It's something else entirely to craft your own."
"Craft your own? Bennet...."
He continued, not even acknowledging that I spoke. "That's true mastery. To make someone hate their favorite food, to wantonly commit murder. To turn a mass murderer into a religious saint." He moved his gaze to linger on Heather's face. "To make someone else the host for a wife who would love you..."
I couldn't believe what he had just said. "You're going to what?"
He snapped out of his reverie. "I'mÀ using a special solution to change your Heather into the wife that once loved me. Would continue to love me. Now, prepare the subject for injection."
I still couldn't believe him. "You... you can't!"
He stared at me with his dark, penetrating eyes, his thin lips formed into a scowl. "You couldn't possibly comprehend the meaning of this. Leave, I'll do the work myself."
I shook my head. "No, doctor," I said the title as a mockery, "It's you who doesn't understand." I waved to the operation table, at Heather who lay there, unconscious and unaware. "You can't just turn people on and off like toys. You can't program their personalities like you would your calculator! You think the human mind is your plaything? You think you can reduce everyone to solution of chemicals, plug in the right one for the right situation?? Think about what you're doing! It's wrong, it's unethical..." I slammed my fist down on the counter. "It's not human!"
He turned away from me, putting on his rubber gloves with a snapping sound. "And yet, you would have done so to save your friend's life, wouldn't you have?" His voice was low, cutting. I could tell hwas angry. I didn't care. He pushed the wrong button.
"Damn you, Bennet! That's a hell of a far cry from this! I can't let you do this. I won't!" I ran to put myself between him and the table. The look he gave me almost made me back down.
"I won't let some..." He scanned me, his jaw clenched. "...naive college graduate ruining my life's work! If you had 'ethical' problems with the experiment, then you should never have signed up to be my assistant. If it's some matter of feeling that this girl belongs to you, I suggest you rid yourself of that notion now, for in a matter of minutes, she won't even remember who you are. Now, get out of my way." He was my height, but thinner. I could probably take him. Knock him out maybe. Call the police. Get Heather away from here. I turned to look at her still form again, lying quietly on the table behind me. Bennet's stark voice made me whip around again. "I won't ask again." His toyed with the syringe in his hand, the tip gleaming in the harsh fluorescent light.
I leapt at him then, bowling into him before I knew what choice I had made. But it had been the only choice. We fell to the ground, a tray of scalpels and knives banging next to us. My fist shot to out, connected with his jaw. The syringe he held clattered onto the floor, skidding away, and his knee slammed into my stomach. I fell back to the side, on top of the cold metal tools. I felt a prong sticking into my back, through my shirt. Then Bennet was on top of me, hammering a blow to my face. I flung my hands up, blocking, hitting back. My lip was cut, bleeding. So was my back, from whatever I had rolled on. I lashed out harder at him. slugging him again in the face. I followed through with my other hand, and then back again with the first. I didn't give up. I couldn't give up. I'd been duped by this monster for the last year, this monster that had wanted to take the most decent person I knew and warp her into his own private slave. I had rolled back on top of him now, pounding repeatedly into his face. He couldn't receive enough of my fury.
"Alex..." A voice came from behind me. "Alex... Stop." It was Heather. I crouched over Bennet's now unconscious form, panting heavily. His nose was broken, several large welts and bruises covered his face. I didn't care. I turned around slowly, regaining my breath.
"He... wanted.. to..." I looked up at her, sitting on the edge of the table. I couldn't express myself, the fear that had ran though me when he announced his plan, the complete anger at his audaciousness. I stood and moved over to her, wrapping my arms around her tightly. "I couldn't let him...." There didn't seem to be anything else to say.
She nodded slightly in my arms, and we remained there for some time, neither speaking, just holding one another. Finally, Heather lifted her head. "What are we going to do?" Her eyes focused past my shoulder. "About him?"
I withdrew from our embrace, turning to look back at Bennet. I had done more damage than I thought, his face completely covered in purple and red splotches. I wanted to do more. But what would the point be? I'd stopped him, hadn't I? And now what? What would happen when he came to? Work would never be the same, that was a given. If I even was allowed to work here. Or wanted to. But if I moved away, would he follow me? Or Heather? To what extent did this man's derangement go? Somehow, I was fairly certain I didn't want to know the answer. Not three feet from his limp, outstretched hand lay the syringe that he had began the trouble with.
The syringe. Filled with his own brand of the mood altering solution. He had said that he could go far beyond that, though, could reprogram personalities, memories... all dependant upon the solution you used. I had believed him. He had spent every evening here in the lab, no doubt, perfecting the intricacies of each of his synthetic chemicals, building the serum that would let him toy with Heather's mind like a cat does its prey. My jaw clenched involuntarily again, biting back the roiling anger. How could anne be so inhuman as to utterly disregard ethics like that? To ultimately wipe out someone's personality, their soul... And yet, I looked at the syringe again. I knew that I could do the same to him. Could find his notebook, mix up his chemicals myself, reprogram his mind just as he would have reprogrammed Heather's. It'd solve all the problems. I knew that as it stood, he'd most likely be removed from his lab, his grant taken away, his credibility stripped. And I knew he'd blame me for it. A dose of his own solution could change that, make so I'd never have to look over my back for him coming up on me. But then wouldn't I be just as bad as he was? Or could you only defeat evil by becoming evil yourself? I remembered the words I had shouted at him. It's not human. Maybe humans could only afford to have humanity when their life or livelihood wasn't at stake. I moved to his desk, began to search through his notes. I still wasn't sure what I was planning on doing, if anything at all.
Heather had watched me for a few minutes, then asked what I was doing. I didn't respond to her. How could I? Or maybe she wanted me to usurp this man's mind, who almost killed who she was. I couldn't tell. I mumbled at her, telling her to wait outside, that I'd be done shortly. She passed by me, her hand drifting across my back. "Thank you," she whispered quietly, before leaving the room.
Thank you? For what - saving her life, or destroying Bennet's? I pieced together the parts of the solution, wondering if it made a difference, finally deciding that it did. One affirmed life, the other death. One celebrated me as a savior, the other a conqueror. The chemical solution was ready, I filled a syringe with it. If I injected it into him now, he'd never remember the fight that happened this day, would let go of the pain that his wife had given him. He'd become a whole man again, but at my interfering hands. If I were to be a savior, I should leave the room, and leave him with his own mind, his own memories and personality, flawed as they were. To be a conqueror all I needed to do was give him the serum, irrevocably bending him to my will, for his own good and mine. The time for my decision had come.
I left the room quietly, slowly, and Heather met me there. She embraced me, neither of us saying a word. I held the ashes of his notebook in my hand, burned beyond retrieval. Could she tell, I thought? Did she know what I had decided upon? I didn't want to ask, just wanted to get as far away as I could, before he awoke, before I was faced with the consequences of my actions. We packed our belongings when we got home, moved to another city. I couldn't have faced Bennet after that, and didn't want Heather to have to either. He never called me, and I'm not sure if I found that as a concern or a relief. But I always wonder, late at night when the darkness surrounds me, if perhaps I made the wrong choice.
I'll never kn Ćow.