Текст книги "Heartless"

Автор книги: Patrick T. Phelps

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

He held the world in contempt. Each person playing their part in a production of a critical mass of fools. Each striving to be counted as part of something that they erroneously perceived to be much greater than themselves. Each of them, nothing more than a variation of a single. Many faces of one. Mindless creatures guised behind pretentious intelligence and assumed superiority. Varying in their degrees, but all striving to satisfy the exact same set of needs.

They were followers, all of them. Each trying to fool themselves into believing in their uniqueness, in their ownership of being special. But actually, they were all the same. Bags of meat, of bones, of repeated thoughts.  Shared, stolen, and borrowed thoughts. The same that have been thought for centuries, only altered by evolutionary processes. They were nothing but organisms dependent on each other, yet convinced of their own extraordinary ability to be their own expression. Some chose the comfort of conforming and others the importance of being contrary.

He didn’t hate them; they didn’t deserve such a powerful emotion. Nor did he pity them, for they were too far beneath him, and he, too far above to consider them worthy of pity.

No. They were obstructions, many of them.  Others, potential tools.

Falsely intelligent, deviously blind preventers, and rendered such by their own DNA. They didn’t need to be eliminated, only structured. Revealed. Yet he knew that revelation would only be for a very select few. The others would never become aware.

Why did they claim to be something that they could not possibly understand? Fools, all of them. And now they would see. If only through the vehicle of terror, they would see. He knew they would never be able to understand, but at least they would be given the chance to see.

He managed his way through their disorganized and ignorant attempts to domesticate him. Following the prescribed methods used for generations. Manners. Respect. Controlling emotions. Politeness. All of it learned as a bird learns to crane its neck higher than its nest-mates to grab the worm.

Simple and delicate and utterly unaware of the passing moments leading them closer to their own eradication. Finding perceived meaning in his agreement to their requests. Their leaders, nothing more than panderers to idiots. Saying what was to be considered correct and damning those of opposition.

He learned of their created answers to questions well beyond their comprehension levels. Saw them structure and organize these answers. Give them rules, rituals, rewards, all while he understood their reasoned need to stomp out other answers. Crushing threats under the pretense of immortality. One after another, the creators came, each with demonstrated evidence to disproof another’s answers and offering a new one.

A parade of comical misery and guilt.

But each answer was folly and each nothing more than a trick of convenience. Born of opportunity and given life through the considered tragic conditions, caused by their own hands. By their own words. By their own dismantling of logic, reason, and tolerance.

Fools, every one of them. Grasping in the air for substance and believing, then testifying that the ether they held was solid. Reachable. Containable. But never malleable. Until another, wiser in the same train of thought, offered more irrefutable evidence.

For every organic spark, they assigned a common name. Each of those given the respect of efficient labeling, elevating himself or herself to a vaulted position. Discoverers of the obvious. The obtuse truth.  Patting themselves on their own backs for seeing the blinding light in front of them. Rewarding themselves and those that they felt they needed to be in favor with.

Patience was not a gift, but a choice. For him, the choice was made consciously. Deliberately.

“Feed their imagined ego, and advance towards the only possible conclusion,” he would remind himself. “Trained discipline and calculated steps. One after another.”

It started with books. He learned about their feeble attempts to create an understanding that others could then point to as reference. He knew his captors, his unwitting suppliers, had lacked making the choice of patience. He knew that they were searching through him for their way to become a point of reference.

Doctor Straus and his team began offering him books to read in order to distract him and to give themselves a break from the constant barrage of his questions. He would ask questions about nearly any topic and would only stop a line of questioning when he realized that he could gain no additional information from his captors.

The books started with history books, as they deemed to be the safest for him to read.

“History of Ancient civilizations?” he asked when, at six, Doctor Straus handed him his first book. “But Doctor Straus, I don’t know how to read yet.”

“I’ll ask Doctor Curtis to provide you some reading lessons. A few lesson should be all it takes before you’ll be reading completely on your own.”

He took to reading very quickly. Within days, as Doctor Straus had suggested, he was able to manage his way through his first book. His questions tempered, more books were brought to him.

More history. Classic works of fiction. Outdated and replaced science. Mathematics.

The more books he was offered, the fewer questions he asked to the doctors. They were relieved and more than happy to offer him as many books as he wanted.

As other creators advanced in their imagined brilliance, books gave way. Though hundreds were used, invention rendered them debilitating in their pace and in their accessibility.

“Alex,” he was told, “I’ve saved several articles for you to read. Read them then I will test your ability to recall them.”

“From the Internet, doctor Straus?”

“Yes, Alex. These are from the Internet.”

He enjoyed the last decade of his life much more than he did the first. His years at Hilburn, were filled with aggressive treatments and invasive tests and sensing the growing impatience of the doctors. They made their expectations of him quite clear.

“Alexander, we have all made significant sacrifices and have put our careers at risk by caring for you. We feel that our requests of you to be a willing participant in our experiments are more than fair. The doctors who abandoned you with us have completely forgotten about you and, honestly, would rather never be reminded of you every again.

“But Alexander, we have cared for you, protected you from the public, kept you warm, fed you, and even granted you the opportunity to gain an education. We have never given up on you and will continue treating you as long as you promise to assist us and to never try to harm any of us. Do we have an understanding?”

“We do, and I appreciate all that you have sacrificed caring for me.”

He didn’t care if they fully believed him. Their hubris would allow them to believe in their irresistible influence over him.  Once he added compliant actions to his promises, they would be controlled.

When Straus told him that “a move to a more secluded, quieter, and much more pleasant environment” was necessary, he agreed to be sedated during the transfer. To sedate him, the doctors couldn’t just inject a sedative into his arm but needed him to drink a cocktail of drugs. Once consumed, his cells would transfer the sedative throughout his body, and the effects would be felt. They knew, from multiple experiments, that to sedate him could take as long as three hours. The only fast way to make him unconscious was by shocking him, and that method was too painful and too dangerous.

“If you still do not trust me, Doctor Straus, and feel you need to take this precautionary measure, I will offer no resistance. I am, however, disappointed in myself.”

“Why is that?” Straus had asked.

“Though I have tried to demonstrate my trustworthiness and my appreciation for all that you have done for me, if you still lack confidence in my promises, I must have not done enough. Yet.”

Doctor Straus had decided, more out of necessity and convenience than out of concern, that he needed to move his patient out of the once friendly and secure confines of Hilburn and up to the Adirondack Lodge that Straus had inherited from his father. The state of New York was continually slashing its funding to institutions like Hilburn and, twelve years after his patient had arrived, Straus received notice that Hilburn was scheduled to be closed within one year.

Having nowhere to continue to treat, examine, test, and hide his patient, Straus hired a contractor, who promised confidentiality in exchange for payment in cash, to make several modifications to Straus’s lodge in Piseco, Lake New York.

“I need an addition put on,” he told the contractor. “I plan to start renting out rooms to fellow doctors who need a quiet place to relax. However, I also need a suite of rooms designed to ensure maximum security.”

“Plan on keeping criminals in your lodge, Doctor?” the contractor from Connecticut asked.

“I believe our agreement includes confidentiality but does not require full disclosure. Am I correct?”

“Tell me what you want, and it will be done.”

His patient was nearly thirteen-years old before the modifications were completed at the lodge. The timing was perfect, as the state of New York informed Straus that many of the buildings that comprised the Hilburn campus were already being leased to start-up companies. The main building was to remain open until all the patients were placed in community group homes, smaller state-run facilities, or psychiatric hospitals. What happened, however, was that some of the patients that once called Hilburn home were simply released into the public and left, for the most part, to fend for themselves.

Most of the Hilburn staff were offered transfers or early retirement packages. Straus and his core team were all given the choice of transfer or to accept a rather healthy severance package. Curtis and Straus took the severance while Lucietta accepted a transfer to a state hospital in Manhattan.

Straus’s favorite nurse, Michelle Pettingal had resigned her position when Alex was only three years old. Though she never admitted it, Straus learned that she had married Doctor Stanley Mix and had moved somewhere in Upstate New York. Straus tried to keep track of Michelle as his desire to “have” her remained. But that desire eventually faded, and Michelle became nothing more than a pleasant memory.

On her last day of work, Straus made sure that Michelle would honor her commitment of keeping the story of Alexander Black quiet.

“I won’t say anything, Doctor. Honestly, no one would believe my story, and I would rather just forget everything about this place.”

The outlook of being forgotten struck Straus deeply. After all he had done for her, how could she simply “forget” him? He had suspected that Stanley Mix and she were keeping in contact but never thought their contacts would turn romantic.

“I hope you keep your promise, Nurse Pettingal,” he said to her as she handed in her staff badge and completed her exit interview. “But I do hope that you retain some pleasant memories of our time here together.”

His time in the lodge, though confined to two rooms for the first several months, was when he began designing, testing, and refining his plan. While he continued acting as the willing associate to Straus and those who remained a part of his team, he continually looked for opportunities to expand specific knowledge. He knew that, despite his intelligence, he would be lost in the world. He lacked the skills needed to blend in, to properly engage others, even to find sustenance. He knew that his plan needed time, and time demands patience.

The first time he was allowed to leave the walls of the lodge was at night. The night sky was brilliantly clear. He sat on the damp grass behind the lodge and stared up at the stars for well over an hour, saying nothing and remaining perfectly still. He had read about stars, about constellations and the folk tales surrounding them. He had studied the moon and the planets, and had read several books filled with theories and speculations about the universe. As he sat, staring up at the night sky, he grew more convinced that life could not be learned from a book. That no matter how talented a writer may be, describing the simple light of a star with words was as futile as him trying to escape and live in the world he had only read about. That night, he decided how his plan would conclude. He also decided that the first steps of his plan were still many years away.

Over the years, he often asked to be allowed to walk to the shore of Piseco Lake. Each request was denied.

“There are too many risks involved, Alexander. While we have grown to trust you, we don’t trust what others may do if they see you. I hate to have to remind you of this, but your appearance, Alexander, you don’t look like the others.”

He knew what he looked like, and he knew that his appearance would certainly disturb the public. He had been told, countless times, that the public would never understand him. They would, out of fear, restrain him and subject him to tests, much more severe and invasive that what he had grown accustomed to.

As the years rolled past, he continued to expand his understanding of the world outside of the lodge. Occasionally, he earned the reward of going outside, feeling the sun warming his face, watching a storm cloud releasing its anger, or seeing the stars, reminding him of their mysteries.

As Straus had planned, the lodge became a popular place for big city doctors to spend their vacations. During the summer and fall months, it was common for Straus to have at least one guest staying in the guest rooms, one floor above his rooms. Each guest was told the same thing about him.

“I have a patient who lives here year round. He is an especially challenging and interesting patient; highly agoraphobic, paranoid, and extremely private. He pays me to ensure that he is left alone. I ask that you understand and respect his wishes and that you do not enter the first floor hallway. I assure you, he is as harmless as a butterfly, but his emotional stability would, I fear, crumble if anyone he hasn’t learned to trust makes contact with him.”

The few times that all of the lodge’s rooms were filled with guests, he was sedated and either kept in his bedroom or relocated to a rented cottage in the nearby hamlet of Oxbow Lake. The days in the cottage were usually spent unconscious and always included an armed guard who liked to promise him that he would not hesitate in the use of his gun.

“I don’t know what your story is, and I don’t care. If Straus wants to pay me to babysit you for a few days, so be it. But I promise you that if you try anything, your head will explode.”

He was strapped to the cottage’s bed and secured with enough rope and wire to make any attempted escape impossible. And all the while he would lay in the bed, his babysitter would sit a few yards away, pointing his high powered rifle towards his head and telling him what a freak he was.

As unpleasant as those days were, he used them as opportunities to study and to learn. The more exposure he had to the world and to those who lived in the world, the closer he became to fulfilling his plan.

For him, the passage of the years did not bring him closer to his own end but rather to his own beginning. The more agreeable he was, the more rewards and privileges he was given.

Several weeks before his plan was launched, Straus awarded him with a privilege that seemed too perfect in its timing.

“Alex, I know how much you want to go outside. To go feel the lake as you have wished for. As long as you agree to my terms, I will allow you to walk with me to the lake. But I assure you, if you do anything that I even remotely think is an attempt to leave, I’ll shock you.”

“Why would I try to leave, doctor? Where would I go?”

They had learned of the impact that electricity, of being shocked, had on him. They were amazed at how quickly and how powerfully the slightest jolt would drop him to his knees.

“I need you to attach this to your ankle. Make it tight.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s a training device for dogs. I’m sorry, but if you want more to earn more privileges, you have to agree to my terms.”

“Which ankle?”

Straus waited a few hours until Jacob Curtis joined him at the lodge. He wanted to be sure he had a backup in case his patient was able to subdue him.

“Jacob, I need you to make sure that no one is around. I want to take Alex outside, but I don’t want anyone seeing him. All I need is for some local to start talking about the ‘gray guy walking around Straus’s lodge.’”

Jacob Curtis was gone for no more than a minute before returning.

“Can’t see anyone. Rain is keeping people inside, I suppose.”

Once Straus confirmed that Alex had tightly placed the shock collar on his ankle, he reminded Alex of his expectations.

“Now Alex, this is a privilege. I hope you understand the risks I am taking.”

“I do, Doctor Straus.”

“It’s raining out which will make the shock from that collar a bit more severe, so I really hope you don’t do anything to warrant its use. Just stay with Doctor Curtis and me, don’t speak to anyone who may show up, and, for God’s sake, don’t try to run or swim away.”

“I can’t swim, Doctor Straus, and I have nowhere to run to and nothing to run from,” he answered.

The gray sky matched his complexion. The light rain that was falling felt wonderful against his sensitive skin. Together with the two doctors, he walked down the narrow path that led to Piseco Lake’s shore. Once at the water, he bent over and splashed water onto his face and arms. He loved how the cool water sent shivers racing throughout his body and wondered how it would feel if his whole body was submerged. He knew that he could easily jump into the water and remain submerged for hours, but he also knew how quickly Doctor Straus would press the button and send a shock throughout his body.

“Alex?” Jacob  Curtis called from a few yards away. “I don’t like how quiet you are.”

“I am just enjoying this immensely, Doctor. Nothing to be concerned about.”

He had felt shocks before. Doctor Lucietta was the first to use them as treatment many years ago and was also the one who first discovered how they debilitated him. Shocks were not only painful for him, but they disrupted his thoughts and ability to function for days.

They allowed him to stay at the water’s edge for nearly twenty minutes before suggesting they “head back and get in out of the rain.”

“Very well, Doctors. And thank you for this privilege,” he complied.

Neither he or the doctors saw the young man approaching them, but there he was, smack dab in the middle of the road separating the lodge from the lake. He seemed like the nervous type, the type that Straus would enjoy having as a patient. And had Straus been alone during this encounter, he might have offered his business card and a suggestion that the stranger contact him for an appointment.

But now was not the time to advance a career. Straus and Curtis stood as if they were catatonic as the young man stood staring at the gray man walking up from the path. As the stranger moved closer, Straus thought that he looked familiar but couldn’t place the face.

“Good day,” the young man offered, his eyes now less intense. “Not the best day for a hike, is it?”

“Just a short walk to the lake. No hiking today.” Curtis said.

“Well, stay dry,” the young man said.

“You too,” Curtis said. “We should be getting inside now. Take care.”

The young man stared at Alexander, and the doctors noticed that he was staring back at the young man. There was no look of terror on the young man’s face, only intrigue.

“You must excuse us,” Straus said. “Our patient hasn’t been feeling well. We need to get him back into his bed. Good day.”

“Hope you feel better,” the young man said as he continued his trek down the road.

When he was far enough away, Straus whispered with an intensity unfitting for a whisper, “Inside. Now!”

But his patient just stood, not moving. He was looking at the stranger getting smaller with distance.

“Alex, inside now, or by God, I’ll press this button.”

“I doubt that, doctor Straus. Doing so would create a scene that may attract the attention of that strange young man as well as the attention of anyone who may be glancing out of their windows. I am not planning on doing anything foolish. I just realized that the man I just saw was the first person I’ve heard speak besides your team.”

“Well,” Straus said, collecting himself and shifting his gaze to see if any neighbors were looking out of their windows, “I appreciate your behavior, Alex. I truly do. And I also appreciate how you must be feeling. However, I know that you are fully aware of what people would think and do to you if they ever found out about you. With that in mind, Alex, why don’t we return to the safety of your rooms? I promise that the next time you earn the privilege of coming outside, we will do a much better job at making sure you will have your privacy. Sound fair enough?”

“Fair enough, Doctor,” he said as he shot a final glance towards the stranger who was now almost out of sight. “I must admit that that man’s reaction to me was not as drastic as I would have thought. Not like you suggested reactions would be.”

“You have no idea how he may be reacting. Imagine if he ran into you alone? Trust me, Alexander, that reaction is far from what you should expect. Now let’s get back inside where it’s safe.”

It was time for his plan to begin.