Posts filed under ‘free stories’
THE SUPERIOR SPECIES: PART VI, REALIZATION
REALIZATION
From the time of their births, the babies struck Gold, Fielding, Sanders, and Mark as odd. The infants appeared tense, as if they had an inherent fear of Homo sapiens. The only time they relaxed was when they could see one another.
“Strange,” Gold noted, “it’s as if they know they are alien to us.”
The babies grew into muscular toddlers and were walking at six months. Gold and Fielding closely followed their development. Sanders and Mark occasionally inquired as to the progress of the children, but other projects quickly took them out of the picture. Their major concern was when Gold would go public with the astounding accomplishment. They were eager for the recognition their work would bring. Gold would answer their inquiries by saying, “Soon, very soon.”
Fielding spent hours observing the Neanderthal infants, monitoring how their bodies developed as they matured. They were far more agile than he expected, nothing like the lumbering brutes commonly associated with Neanderthals. As expected, their frames indicated that they would develop into adults of short stature compared to modern man. Their physique began to fill out, becoming more muscular than that of human babies. Gold, however, would uncover the true mysteries of the Neanderthals when he studied their psychological development.
The infants began talking at eighteen months, and not with the fumbling birth of knowledge of speech associated with human children. Gold discovered them talking one day as he entered the room where they slept. He was stunned, for he never heard them parrot sounds as children do to develop speech. The Neanderthals did possess the high nasal voices predicted by the bone structure of their skulls. Gold found the sound of their voices annoying.
Studying their psychological development, Gold thought, these infants are progressing far more rapidly than human toddlers of comparable age. Gold began recording his conversations with the Neanderthals. During one of his sessions with them they both seemed withdrawn. He asked, “What do you boys think about?”
The Neanderthal born first was called Adam, the other John. Adam answered, “Why, he asked, ” are we so different from you and the others we meet?”
* * *
It had been four years since the Neanderthals were cloned and Gold became more and more ill at ease about what the experiment had created. Fielding and Sanders wanted the results of the experiment to be published. Mark preferred to be left out of the picture.
One night Fielding and Sanders visited Gold in his study, site of the initial plans for the project. Fielding asked Gold, “Carl, don’t you think it’s time to publish our Neanderthal results?”
Sanders added, “The boys have shown none of the signs of premature aging that many of the animals clone in the past have exhibited.”
Gold said, “The boys are coming along fine. In fact, their intelligence level, given their age, is remarkable. But I still feel we should wait to publish. There is something strange about the boys. I would prefer to let them develop further before we go public.”
In the end, Fielding and Sanders persevered. A manuscript was prepared and sent to Science.
THE SUPERIOR SPECIES: PART V, THE BIRTH
THE BIRTH
Bill March had three women he had used as surrogate mothers in the past who refused to see the babies for whom they had made life possible. They were ready to perform the function again. All were young, in their mid to late twenties and all were single. They were all paid for their service and all three shared similar feelings about their pregnancy. They wanted to provide a family to couples who needed help.
The three women were each implanted with two of the Neanderthal embryos. They were all told that the fetuses belonged to a very wealthy couple, and that they would be paid well for their services and their confidentiality. When it came time to deliver the babies, the births would take place at the couple’s country estate. All preparations had been taken to equip a room at the estate with the criteria of a delivery room, all the latest equipment necessary to handle whatever emergency might occur.
Two of the women miscarried.
These miscarriages revived the doubts March originally felt about the project.
Pat Meyers carried the last two fetal Neanderthals to term. She knew she was pregnant with twins, but she grew no larger than she had when she carried a single child. This disturbed her. She also knew she carried two boys. Even with her doubts, it made her happy to know she was bringing joy and creating a family. She was making it all possible.
Two weeks before her due date, she was moved to a country estate in northern Connecticut. The house belonged to Gold and had been in his family for many years. Mark told the two nurses who would assist in the delivery, “The babies may seem somewhat peculiar. You will be paid to overlook anything out of the ordinary. After all, we must be sensitive to the parent’s feelings.”
Pat went into labor and had an extremely easy delivery. Although she had carried the babies to term, both were less than four pounds at birth.
Each nurse cared for one of the infants. The boys were covered with a fine down of black hair. One of the nurses whispered to the other, “Look at his head. It’s so misshapen after such an easy delivery.”
Once the babies were settled in the nursery, the nurses left the estate. As they walked to their cars one said to the other, “Those infants were indeed peculiar with their misshapen skulls and covered with hair like an ape. But the one thing I will never forget about them was their eyes. They weren’t the eyes of any baby I’ve ever seen. They had a weird look to them, like intelligence. I felt they were looking right through me.
The other nurse responded, “Did you also get the feeling that they feared our touch. I’ve never seen that in a newborn before.”
THE SUPERIOR SPECIES: PART IV, THE CLONING
THE CLONING
John Sanders received the frozen tissue samples from Gold. As he gazed at the sample packed in dry ice, he could not believe he was peering into a box containing a tissue sample of a ‘man’ dead thirty thousand years. Sanders’ ego did not get the better of him. He knew he had been out of the lab for too long to attempt the important work that lay ahead. He employed a promising PhD candidate, Michael Rose, to do the actual work. He would tell Rose as little as possible about the nature of the experiment. The meeting at Gold’s study had left him with the feeling that he was involved in a conspiracy rather than an experiment, the fewer people that knew about the true purpose of the experiment, the better.
Sanders’ first meeting with Rose went well. “Michael, I would like you to help me in a special project.”
“Certainly Dr. Sanders. I’m a little desperate for a new project now that the study I’m working on is going nowhere.”
Sanders said, “It’s a cloning experiment.”
“Fantastic,” said Rose. “What will we be cloning?”
Sanders hesitated, and then answered, “A non-human primate.”
“Has that ever been done before Dr. Sanders?”
“Not to my knowledge. We would be making history.”
Rose could not believe his luck. He was going from a dead-end research project to an historic experiment.
“When do we begin?”
“Immediately,” Sanders said. “I already have a tissue sample from which you can extract the DNA for the cloning. I also have a list of references I want you to read and extract from them the method used to fertilize the egg and develop it into an embryo.”
* * *
Two weeks later Rose had the DNA extracted and the materials he would need for the union of the egg and extracted DNA to begin their journey to a living entity.
Sanders called Mark, “Bill, we’re ready to implant the DNA into the eggs.”
“I’ll ship them out by express mail,” said Mark. “Good luck!”
The eggs arrived in a container of liquid nitrogen. The paperwork indicated that there were ten eggs contained in the container. When all was ready, with Sanders at his side, Rose began the cloning experiment.
The eggs were rapidly thawed. Once thawed, Rose removed their DNA and inserted the ‘primate DNA’ he had prepared. Each egg was given its own petri dish of life sustaining fluids and put into an incubator.
Both Sanders and Rose periodically checked on the eggs. Initially, all ten began to divide. But soon four of the small balls of cells died. The remaining six progressed to a point where they could be slowly cooled, then frozen and stored in liquid nitrogen until they could be implanted into a uterus.
Rose was excited as he entered Sanders’ office. “Dr. Sanders, the embryos are frozen. I’m looking forward to seeing the results of the experiment.”
Sanders said, “I’ll let you know how things progress.”
“Do we have the monkeys that will carry the embryos to term here?”
“No Michael, the implantation will be done at another institution.”
After Rose left, Sanders sat at his desk and thought, You’ll be told the embryos all died after implantation. For you, this experiment is over.
Strangely, Sanders found himself feeling envy for Rose. His dreams had recently been haunted by what this adventure might produce.
SUPERIOR SPECIES: PART III, NEW HAVEN CONNETICUT
New Haven, Connecticut
It was a wild night with a howling and frigid wind buffeting the windows of the senior faculty house on the Yale campus. Sheets of rain kept all the details of the world beyond the windows indefinite.
Four men, leaders in their fields, sat before a roaring fire, the flames reflecting off the dark wooden panels of the study walls. Each man held a brandy stiffer and appreciated the ambiance of the room and the moment. The men were in one of the faculty houses provided to senior members of Yale. The residence was that of Dr. Carl Gold, an evolutionary psychologist. Gold was in his mid sixties, and with his trim build and gray mane of hair, would not be out of place in the boardroom of a major company or arguing on the floor of the senate. He was a leader in his field with a worldwide reputation.
Gold had invited three men he knew by reputation as giants in their own fields. He also knew them all personally, in varying degrees, and was confident that what was discussed this stormy night would not go beyond the walls of his study.
Across from Gold sat Fred Fielding. Tall and gaunt, Fielding had a permanent tan from his many field trips as physical anthropologist. Next to Fielding was John Sanders, a world-renowned human geneticist. Sanders published his work in all the major journals, but most of his work was now tied up in the debate over the use of human stem cells. Sanders, with his short thick build, was the opposite of Fielding. With his thick black hair and swarthy complexion, he was often mistaken for a maintenance man. The broken nose he earned during his collegiate boxing career added to the image.
The last of the three invited guests was Dr. Bill Mark, a fertility specialist and adjunct professor in Yale’s medical school. Tall, slim and blond, with his athletic build, he appeared to be in his mid forties although he was well on the way to sixty. As each man introduced himself and discussed their specialties, Mark wondered if he had been summoned to this meeting by mistake. His discipline did not fit in with the others present. He was not a researcher. He was a physician.
Gold surveyed his colleagues and friends. “Gentlemen, the storm that rages beyond these walls will be dwarfed by the storm that may rage within these walls tonight. I’m sure you are all aware of the magnificent discovery made in the Swiss Alps. The body of a perfectly preserved Neanderthal, using carbon dating, is estimated to be thirty thousand years old. I have spent my life in the study of these creatures. From the time the first Neanderthal skull was found in 1848, this subset of man has remained a mystery. We are still trying to fathom the extent of their intelligence and how they fit into the human tree of development.
“There are many facts about these distant relatives of modern man that lead to fascinating conjecture. To begin with, their brains were ten percent larger than that of modern man, yet they are thought to be simple brutes. We now know that Neanderthals manufactured tools and produced art. The mask found on the banks of the Loire in France was an unexpected find. The fact that they produced art indicates they had an appreciation of life beyond their own existence. They apparently did lack one skill. They were not as adept at fashioning weapons as their fellow bipeds.
“Another intriguing discovery found in the Kebara Cave in Israel was a Neanderthal bone of extreme importance. The bone I refer to was a Neanderthal hyoid bone. This find dispels the theory that Neanderthals could do nothing but grunt. The presence of a hyoid bone indicates they were capable of speech. Taking into consideration other aspects of their skulls, it is thought that Neanderthals had a high, nasal voice.
“There are many questions to be answered, and now we have the means at our disposal to journey from conjecture to fact. I have obtained a sample of the newly discovered Neanderthal. The reason I have called you all together this evening is to formulate a plan, that my utilizing modern genetics and in vitro fertilization, will produce a Neanderthal. We shall be able to answer all the questions that have plagued modern man about the Neanderthal enigma.”
Fred Fielding was the first to speak. “As a physical anthropologist, I look forward to examining the body of the recently discovered Neanderthal. But your point is clear. To see how the physical characteristics, whose meaning we assume to deduce, come into play in a living specimen would mean phenomenal advances in our knowledge of man’s distant relative.”
John Sanders, the geneticist, now spoke up. “With a specimen from this newly discovered Neanderthal, modern genetics could solve, once and for all, the debate of where Neanderthals reside in man’s family tree. However, what you propose is to produce a living individual. To do that would require cloning, a method too dangerous to try on a human – to say nothing about it being illegal.”
Gold said, “My dear Dr. Sanders, you would not be cloning a member of the Homo sapiens species. You would be cloning an example of Homo neanderhtalensis.”
A smile crept across Sanders’ face. This argument would be viable, until the law caught up with the science. “In that case, I am willing to isolate the DNA. What we would need next is a human egg and female willing to carry the Neanderthal to term.”
All eyes were now on Dr. Mark, the fertilization specialist. He said, “I now see where I fit in. I see how we all fit into this project. I will not mince words. I feel uncomfortable about this proposition. The mechanisms of the plan would be simple. I have a supply of donor eggs. We can remove the egg’s DNA and using cloning methods described in the literature, insert Neanderthal DNA and initiate mitosis. I also have a group of women we use in my practice who are willing to carry babies as surrogate mothers, but refuse to see the baby after birth. They want no chance to form an attachment to the child.
“I think the experiment Dr. Gold proposes can be accomplished. My question is should it be done? By using the scientific name of the Neanderthal as a loophole, we feel we are free to create an individual who may possess human emotions, who may possess a soul. This is much different than cloning a sheep or a cat, no matter how much we choose to belittle the difference. I am not sure I can proceed with this endeavor.”
Gold said, “I picked you, Bill, because I knew you would not go easily with this plan. What we are planning to do is of profound importance, and also of profound scientific and moral complexity. Yet, for science to advance, sometimes risks must be taken. I appreciate your arguments. I know there are risks, but we have the capacity to venture into the unknown and bring light to a land of mystery. Through our expertise we can gain knowledge of the beginning of our humanity.”
The debate went on until dawn lit the study windows. Fielding and Sanders warmed to their initial confidence. Mark persisted in his initial skepticism. But in the end, as a new day on Earth began, a new chapter in mankind’s knowledge was agreed upon.
THE SUPERIOR SPECIES: PART II, THE DISCOVERY
THE DISCOVERY
John and Paul had hiked the Alps of Switzerland for most of their lives. Friends in England since their youth, they both chose to seek employment in Switzerland to be near the mountains they loved. Both enjoyed the solitude, hiking the mountains high above the point where novice hikers would stop. As they hiked that June day, they would have an experience they would never forget, an experience that would alter mankind’s perception of his place on this planet.
While on the lower levels of the Alps, they drank in the fragrance of the sentinel pine. And as the winter ice retreated, they had to climb higher and higher to enjoy the solitude they cherished. This June day, they hiked into an ice-shrouded valley that was new to them. Paul was the first to notice a dark mass protruding from the ice halfway up the valley wall. It stood out black against the pristine ice.
“Do you see that, John?” Paul pointed. “I’m going to check it out.”
As Paul approached, a slight wind ruffled Paul’s quarry.
“John, come up here! It’s hair.”
The two men approached. They could make out a shape in the ice beneath the hair. They peered into the ice, and both came to the same conclusion. Buried in the ice was the body of a man.
* * *
The two police officers responding to the Englishmen’s call were used to this sort of thing. Hikers were often lost in the Alps. When egos outdistanced skill and training, along with a lack of preparation, the results were often disastrous. And when the weather became unforgiving, they weren’t found until the first thaw. The two officers worked to reveal more of the body by chipping away some of the ice. The face was revealed along with other details. The more ice they cleared from the body, the more both men knew they were not uncovering an ordinary hiker.
“We had better place guards and call the university in Zurich.”
* * *
Dr. Hans Bueler looked down on the body. He could not hide his excitement. As he examined the corpse, he talked to the policemen protecting the site.
As his investigation proceeded, he said, “Gentlemen, I do not know if you appreciate the magnitude of this find. This is, by far, the greatest discovery in the study of our ancient ancestors to date. You will notice the prominent brow, wide nose and lack of chin. Also notice the muscular shoulders. I will require further study, but I am positive this is the body of a Neanderthal.
“I am sure you also have noticed the cause of death. I refer to the spear point protruding from this individual’s chest. Gentlemen, this is a crime scene, a murder. However, you will never apprehend the murderer, for this crime took place thousands and thousands of years ago.
THE SUPERIOR SPECIES: PART I 30,000 YEARS IN THE PAST
This is an unpublished story.
THE SUPERIOR SPECIES
30,000 YEARS IN THE PAST
The two men sat atop a snow-covered mountain looking down on a land that would one day become Switzerland. Their prominent brows and wide noses marked them as a distinct species, one of two inhabiting this land. The other was an aggressive tribe that they watched. That they feared. With their high nasal voices, the two communicated their feelings to each other, the love for the land that lay before them.
They did not see the band of ten savages obscured by the falling snow approach the hill on which they sat. They appreciated the beauty that surrounded them. The area was covered in a thick blanket of snow, and they were sure that there would be more to come. Recently, the period of snow and ice had been extreme. The lithe figures approached, preparing to attack. With spears held high, the savages crept up on the pair. As one of the muscular men talked to his companion, a spear pierced his breast. His companion rose and was himself impaled by a spear. The savages celebrated their kill in a most gruesome fashion.
PRDICTIONS IN SCIENCE FICTION
PREDICTIONS IN SCIENCE FICTION
It is a well-known fact that writers of science fiction have been known to predict the future. In the story which will follow is a series of posts, in which I predict the past.
Two famous writers of science fiction have shown foresight in predicting the future in their work, Issac Asimov, and Arthur C. Clarke.
Asimov, in his work, saw the move from incandescent bulbs to fluorescent bulbs and on to LED bulbs. Also, the introduction of robots in his work is well-known.
Arthur C. Clarke had a host of predictions of the future in his work. In the world of computers, he predicted the Yk2 scare in the 1990 novel The Ghost from the Grand Banks.
In Clarke’s 1972 novel Rendezvous with Rama, astronomers were involved in a defense system against asteroid collisions with Earth, detected an alien spaceship. The world is now concerned with a collision with an asteroid and the U.S. has already sent a spacecraft on a successful mission to nudge an asteroid and changed its path.
Clarke also predicted the various uses of satellites. He saw groups of satellites being used for data transmission, phone calls and TV transmissions.
This article is a preamble for my short story, The Superior Species. In this story, through cloning, neanderthals are produced with surprising results. I first submitted this story on July 21, 2006. Since then, the view of neanderthals as brutes has been changing.
It’s been found that neanderthals buried their dead, made jewelry, and manufactured tools. And may have been able to speak.
What really caught my attention was the cover of The New York Times Magazine section published on January 15, 2017. It depicts an obvious caveman holding the hand of a modern-day man. The caveman is wearing a T shirt with the saying, I’M WITH STUPID, with an arrow pointing to modern man.
I will be offering The Superior Species in a series of posts. Hope you follow and enjoy the story.
THE CRYSTALS OF LIFE, A SCIENCE FICTION SHORT STORY
This story was accepted for publication by Books To Go Now in July 2011.
THE CRYSTALS OF LIFE
Jacques Stern was tall and lean and with his Van Dyke beard, exuded an air of sophistication. As the head of the Martian probe, THE QUEST FOR LIFE, he shouted to all in the command center, “We have a successful liftoff.” A mighty cheer went up from the men and women in the room who had toiled for so many years on the project to bring Martian samples back to Earth. They finally would realize the fruits of their labor, a chance to study these historic samples for signs of life.
An earlier probe, SEEKING LIFE, had identified a strange deposit of crystals. Analysis done by the miniature lab aboard the probe yielded puzzling results. The crystals were composed of elements found on Earth, but in a distinctively bizarre construction. There was an unexpected find with their analysis: they could initiate some sort of metabolism when introduced to a nutrient broth. This stymied the scientists studying the data. Checks and tests were accomplished on Earth and no fault could be found in the probe or the programs doing the analysis. This was a mystery that required further investigation.
A new unmanned spacecraft was designed along the lines of the Apollo spacecraft sent to explore the moon. A mother ship would insert into orbit around Mars from which a probe would be released to gather data and samples from the surface of the planet. There was no problem in determining where to land. The previous less sophisticated probe found these crystals just below the surface wherever they explored the planet. Now, to find the source of the first crystals analyzed, the new probe would have to land close to where the last probe made its discovery.
The miniature lab on the probe was much more advanced to that of the initial probe, SEEKING LIFE, which tested the crystals. However, this probe also contained a small module that would take harvested crystals and transport them to the mother ship and bring them back to Earth.
Stern, with his vast experience with SEEKING LIFE, was made head of this latest mission. He retained many of the scientists involved with the last Mars mission. He also enlisted the remaining members of the team responsible for the Apollo missions. With this group of scientists in place, he planned to carry out the current mission. He hoped the current effort would be successful in returning samples to Earth because the data from the last probe made no sense. Once the samples were brought to Earth, the mystery could be unraveled.
As he sat in the officers’ club at Patrick Air Force Base, looking out on the brilliant blue Atlantic Ocean, he questioned his friend, Tom Watson, for the hundredth time. Watson was the exact opposite of Jacques. He was short and portly, and with his selection of wardrobe, was often confused for one of the maintenance personnel. He was a friend from graduate school and Jacques often went to him for an explanation of the results found by some of his projects. Tom, as he often said, ‘was a jack of all trades but a master of none’. He was a skilled scientist in many disciplines who was often approached to delve out the answer to puzzling data.
“I’ve spent years going over the data, Tom. I’ve consulted the top geologists and inorganic chemists I could find; not one can explain the findings of the first probe. “What mechanism of nature could possibly allow a pure crystalline structure to show signs of life?”
Watson was used to this line of questioning; he paused to consider the data, and then said, “We have a built-in limit to what we understand. We gauge all our discoveries by what we have experienced, not by our imagination. We are prisoners of the known.
“On Earth, the building blocks of life are carbon-based. Out in space, it could be sulfur or some other element which we on this planet could never imagine being the backbone of life. With this next probe we will be able to test the findings of SEEKING LIFE. If the findings of the first probe are confirmed, the availability of samples will broaden our knowledge of the characteristics of the crystals and perhaps what constitutes life on the red planet.
* * *
THE QUEST FOR LIFE made its lonely passage through space, through the vacuum and cold toward the growing blood-red dot. After traveling many months, the probe began its orbit in the ink-black sky of Mars.
Back on Earth, a mighty cheer echoed throughout the command center monitoring the probe’s progress. Next was the anticipation of a successful landing on the red planet to analyze and gather samples, and then return to the mother ship.
* * *
As the probe inserted into orbit around Mars, a cold and unfeeling intelligence monitored the probe’s progress. The intelligence was passive, subject to the whim of any life form it encountered. Millions of years had gone by since this calculating entity had been ferried to its present home and occupied the surface of Mars waiting for a new life form to visit. If no contact was made, it did not matter, the presence could wait millions more years until it could enact its cycle. The intelligence occupying the surface of Mars had been patiently anticipating the arrival of a new life form, with the outcome of this encounter up to the invaders.
* * *
Stern gave the command for the mother ship to release the probe.
An intense atmosphere filled the command center.
“The probe has been disengaged,” reported one of the engineers from her station.
After a few minutes, which seemed like an eternity, another station reported, “We have ignition of the lander.”
Minutes later came word that the probe had landed on Martian soil. Another cheer enveloped the command center. Backs were slapped and the champagne opened. Off in one corner stood Stern wondering if the result from the last probe could be duplicated, and if some of the more sophisticated tests incorporated in the current probe would unravel the secrets held within the mysterious crystals.
Stern, along with the rest of the staff, monitored the progress of the lander. Again, white crystals were found after breaking through the surface layer of red soil. A sample, uncontaminated by the surface soil, was scooped up and introduced into the chamber with nutrients which would duplicate the tests performed by the previous mission. The results were the same. A battery of further tests was unable to explain the metabolic activity possessed by the crystal samples. The mission staff experienced relief that the results could be duplicated, but apprehension that this mystery might not be unraveled.
A command sent to the probe had samples introduced into a chamber for transport back to Earth. Once the mother ship obtained the proper position, the probe fired its engine and slowly lifted into the black Martian sky starting the long journey back to Earth.
“We have the returning capsule locked and secured,” called out one of the engineers. The mother ship fired its engines and left Mar’s orbit, heading home.
The mission specialists monitored the progress of THE QUEST FOR LIFE as it glided toward Earth. Stern spent this time conducting meetings at universities and centers of excellence in geology and inorganic chemistry. He filled notebooks with reports speculating on the science behind the unusual activity shown by the Martian crystals; how minerals could show metabolic activity. The common consensus was that either microbes were harbored on or within the crystals or the crystals themselves caused some sort of breakdown of the nutrient broth that mimicked metabolism.
Stern sat once again with his good friend Watson, this time in Stern’s sprawling ranch near Cocoa Beach. “Tom, in a matter of months we’ll have the Mars probe back on Earth. The excitement level in Houston, where the crystals will be analyzed, is tremendous. NASA has assembled some of the world’s foremost geologists, biologists and physicists to conduct an extensive battery of tests. This is the first time man has had an opportunity to examine material from another planet in our solar system. We could gain knowledge of a new life form, or a chemical process not found on Earth.
“I’m disappointed that I will not be present when the probe is opened in Houston, but once it splashes down in the Pacific, my responsibility for the mission is finished.”
“These are historic times,” said Tom. “It’s a great era in which to live. Perhaps the answer to one of the major questions mankind has pondered will finally be answered. Are we alone in the universe or just a speck of inhabited rock adrift in a cosmos teeming with life?”
* * *
THE QUEST FOR LIFE sailed toward a distant speck in the black void of space. The spec grew, becoming a small disc and finally a planet with clouds in the atmosphere and dark expanses of ocean. As the probe entered the first hint of the Earth’s atmosphere, the crystals altered their configuration ever so slightly, sensing the prospect of renewed life.
Aboard the U.S.S. Hornet, latest in a new line of aircraft carriers and named for the historic vessel of World War II, preparations were under way to retrieve the probe. Stored below deck in the carrier’s massive hangar was the steel vault that would be used to carry the precious cargo from Mars to Houston for study.
Managers in Houston followed the probe’s path to splashdown and radioed the carrier that they should soon be able to make visual contact. Hundreds of sailors crammed the deck and scanned the sky. A cheer went up when the three parachutes were spotted which would bring the craft gently down in the Pacific and end its long voyage of discovery. As soon as the probe was sighted, two Navy helicopters launched from the deck, bearing frogmen to recover the spacecraft. The primary helicopter hovered over the probe, now surrounded by an inflatable collar, the prop wash dampening the ocean waves. Two frogmen jumped into the ocean and attached a cable that would lift the space vehicle for transport to the Hornet. Once it was transferred to the deck, a group of scientists examined the vehicle to ensure there was no damage. “We have a good vehicle,” they reported.
While the recovery was being accomplished, NASA, along with naval personnel brought the vault topside and rolled it near to where the helicopter would place the probe. A specifically designed forklift gently maneuvered the vehicle into the vault. The mission was accomplished. The vault was sealed and returned below decks for the journey to California and then on to Houston.
* * *
After the Johnson Space Center in Houston received word that the probe was safe and secure, years of anticipation had come to an end. Now it was time to get to work and find out what those crystals were. There was a celebration. Jacques Stern approached the podium to address the crowd, “Ladies and gentlemen, today we made history. We secured, for the first time, samples from another planet. You are all to be congratulated for the excellent work you have done to see this mission to its successful conclusion.
“Now it is up to the scientists at Johnson to analyze these mysterious crystals and uncover the secrets hidden within their structure.”
Stern finished his speech, and that night driving home, wondered at the mysteries that might be revealed.
The Hornet’s journey to California took nearly a week. This wait added to the eagerness among the scientists waiting to work with the crystals, for there wasn’t an aircraft able to take off from the carrier that could accommodate the vault.
Dr. Jeff Watts, a leader in crystallography, was head of the team selected to study the Martian samples. Jeff was in his mid-fifties but looked ten years younger. With his short-cropped salt and pepper hair and a runner’s build, he looked nothing like the world-renowned scientist he was.
Assisting Watts was Igor Stanovich, a highly respected Russian physicist. Stanovich was in his mid-sixties, muscular, and a short solid man. He projected a no-nonsense air yet hidden beneath his gruff exterior was a caring heart for those who were willing to break through his protective shell.
The third member of the team, and youngest, was Beverly Yochum, already a legend in her field of geology at the age of thirty-five. She accomplished an impressive number of discoveries and was an expert in the study of the most hostile environments the world offered. Blue-eyed and blonde, with a model’s figure, she often turned heads but kept busy in her work. Married at twenty-five, she lost her husband in a car crash five years later and looked to work to consume her pain.
The team gathered in San Diego and anxiously awaited the Hornet’s arrival. Once the ship docked, the team hurried aboard and stood in the Hornet’s hangar staring at the vault containing the samples from Mars, feeling the excitement of their quest for knowledge of another planet.
Dr. Watts said to his colleagues, “I have a great deal of anticipation for the project we are about to undertake.” His words were refined but his voice betrayed the excitement of a child in a toy store.
The vault was brought ashore and trucked to an awaiting Air Force C-17 cargo plane to continue its journey to Houston. The three scientists rode to Texas with their precious cargo. They sat in silence, observing the vault and wondering at the secrets that lie within.
Even before the Mars mission was launched, construction had begun on a special laboratory, isolated from any other structure, to study the Martian crystals. It would be equivalent to the labs used to study the most highly contagious pathogens known to man. Once completed, it was equipped with all the state-of-the-art instruments required for geological and biological research. The scientists and technicians working in the lab would go through a vigorous cleansing and gowning procedure, donning spacesuit-like gear to ensure that no contamination was released or introduced.
While the lab was being built, Watts and his team planned the experiments needed to solve the crystals’ mysterious qualities of appearing as a mineral yet having biological properties.
Upon reaching Houston, the vault was carefully unloaded and taken to the lab which would act as both a storage chamber and laboratory for the crystals and the probe. Now that the vault was safely in the lab, the scientists were full of anticipation ready to examine their precious samples.
The next morning, Watts began, “Now comes the moment we have anticipated for years, and that mankind has dreamed of ever since the red planet was discovered. We stand on the threshold to answering the age-old question, Is there life on Mars: are we alone?
Watts opened the vault and inside lay the probe. Using a special wrench, he opened the chamber containing the crystals. There was a whooshing sound as the sterile air from the lab entered the chamber. Watts pulled from the chamber a cup-like device containing crystals. The entire planet witnessed this historic moment via miniature cameras attached to the headgear of the scientists.
The three gathered around the crystals. Watts said, “They appear to be pure white, like grains of salt but coarser. A few have a reddish-brown discoloration which must be Martian soil.” The excitement in his voice was evident. After a few more moments of inspection, he carefully placed the cup on the floor of the vault and secured the door. He then turned to his colleagues and said, “Tomorrow we begin our work.”
As the scientists slept, cameras trained on the vault were constantly monitored by NASA personnel. The vault must be observed at all times to ensure the crystals had not been tampered with. This would also make it certain that all findings made would not be subject to doubt of any type.
It was two thirty in the morning when the technician monitoring the vault saw the first bulge in its side appear. By the time Watts and his team were alerted, all sides of the vault were peppered with disfigurations, as if someone was firing a shotgun at the walls from inside. Then, before the horrified eyes of all watching the monitor, the vault’s door burst open. From inside they could see a mass of white forms.
Watts shouted, “Quick, we have to get to the lab.”
After an abbreviated decontamination, the scientists donned their protective suits and entered the lab. Near the vault, they could see spheres the size of basketballs with octagonal surfaces lying on the floor. Within the vault there were several similar objects, which, although smaller, appeared to be growing.
Watts leaned forward and picked up one of the white masses. Immediately he let out a blood-curdling scream and watched in disbelief as his hands penetrated the giant crystal. Before his unbelieving eyes, his thick protective gloves dissolved, followed by the skin of his hands. He looked down on his muscles and tendons and the veins and arteries, coursing blood through his hands and fingers. Soon his hands were no more than bone and the growing globe dropped to the floor shattering and raining crystals on all three scientists. The crystals immediately melted through the suits, seeking the life-giving water within.
The technicians monitoring the vault were in shock as it appeared that all three suits were now empty, and the crystals continued to grow at an alarming rate.
It wasn’t long before the white masses breached the lab. The entire building was ordered evacuated. The military was alerted and established a perimeter a half mile away from the rapidly disintegrating building. Tanks and artillery pieces trained their guns on the growing mass of white. Suddenly, the air was filled with the roar of fighters dropping bombs and obliterating the crystals in fire and smoke.
No scientists were consulted on this plan of attack. If they had been, the officers in charge of the operation would have been told you cannot kill a crystal. The wiser approach would have been to bury them. Soon Martian crystals were swept up into the jet stream. Some were deposited in the ocean, and this provided the first clue about their survival. Ships in the warm southern Atlantic reported monstrous icebergs. But what they truly saw were giant mountains of crystals attached to the ocean floor and growing at a fantastic pace. More than one vessel accidentally sailed into the crystalline islands and disappeared.
Too late to save the planet, the growth requirement for the crystals was discovered to be water. When the probe was opened, water vapor entered and initiated the process.
Now with the abundance of water on Earth, a growth process that could not be halted was in progress. It was not long before huge white mountains were seen where the land was once flat. The oceans began to recede as a vast number of white crystalline islands began to appear. The Earth’s population not directly absorbed by the crystals died from lack of water, and Earth soon resembled its sister planet Mars, barren of life.
Once every molecule of water was consumed, the massive crystal mountains began to crumble leaving the planet covered in a thick layer of white. But the planet was not entirely dead. It was still geologically alive. Volcanoes erupted and earthquakes spread a thick layer of new rock and ash covering the crystals. The great cities of the Earth, all signs of the civilization that once existed, were buried.
* * *
Millennia later, a bright, fast moving light appeared in the dead planet’s sky. The light intensified and entered the orbit of the desolate planet. From the orbiting visitor, a smaller light emerged and headed for the planet’s surface.
THE END
THE DREAM CATCHER, A HORROR COMEDY
This story was accepted for publication by Bewildering Stories in December 2011. My dreams are still quite vivid.
THE DREAM CATCHER
Based on a true dream
Walt was a dreamer, but on occasion, there were consequences.
His wife, Joni, yelled, “Knock it off.” It was the dead of night, about 3 AM, and approaching winter. Thank God the windows were closed, or the neighbors might have gotten the wrong idea.
Joni often shouted, “Knock it off,” or “Leave me alone,” no matter what the level of the windows. However, their two cats were usually the problem, either trying to sleep beside her or getting into a scuffle. But in the wee hours of the morning, Walt was usually the guilty party.
Walt had a most active imagination, both day and night, and night was the problem. Day was good; as a writer, when his imagination was working at full steam ahead, that was beneficial. At night, full-steam-ahead was a drawback, especially for Joni. His dreams were beyond vivid; they were an alternate life. He remembered them in great detail. Some he could recall clearly and think about them when awake. There were nights when he would revisit a location from past dreams to experience new adventures.
On one particular night, the basis of this story, in his dream Walt attended a baseball game. Sitting along the first base line, he hoped to snag a foul ball. The problem was that none came anywhere near him, and the game was half over. Then it began; they started coming his way. The balls, arching over the spectators, had a dream-like quality. (Wonder why?) Try as he might, Walt could not catch one. They sailed by just out of reach or were caught by someone else before he had a chance. For some strange reason, every time he tried to catch a ball he would hit the head of a blond-headed man sitting in front of him. After this occurred a few times, he heard the cry, “Knock it off!”
Walt had constantly been rubbing Joni’s head.
He sheepishly said, “I’m sorry,” and went back to sleep.
The following morning, over breakfast, he related his dream. Joni more or less took it in stride for he’d been known to react to dreams with her on the receiving end. We won’t go into how many times he dreamt he fell over a wall and wound up on the floor with a crash. Walt was not a small person. While they were eating, he joked, “Tonight I’m taking my softball glove to bed.”
Joni rolled her eyes, told him in no uncertain terms what she thought of the idea, and went to work.
That afternoon Walt rummaged through the garage until he found his old glove. When night came, he waited until Joni was in the bathroom and gently placed the glove between their pillows.
As she prepared to climb into bed, she saw the glove, shook her head, and said, “You’re nuts.”
With lights out, Walt hoped to return to the game. Before long, he was once again seated near first base. Soon the foul balls began coming his way. One after another, his glove met them all. He was a catching machine. He couldn’t miss. That night Joni had a good night’s sleep. No mussing her hair.
Walt awoke refreshed with his glove on his hand. “Must have put it on during the night,” he said to himself. He got out of bed and immediately crashed to the floor, stumbling on the scattered baseballs.
Joni peered over the edge of the bed. “Not again,” she said. “This has got to stop.
“Remember the time you dreamed about trapping skunks? It took us a month to fumigate the house.”
That night, Joni had an idea. She waited until Walt began snoring, and then began quietly whispering over and over, “Electronics, money. Electronics, money.”
THE END
BALANCE, A HORROR SHORT STORY
Balance was accepted for publication by Necrology Shorts in January 2010
It is a story where good intentions go horribly wrong.
Balance
Nijo London pounded on the door of her small cell – her world now for over a year – until her fists bled. “Let me out!” she screamed although she knew her plea would go unanswered. She stepped back and studied the door covered with dark brown outlines of her fists from past attempts to summon help. She was not sure why she was being held captive, but there were times she was not sure she wanted to know.
Nijo was thirty-five of medium height and slender, with close-cropped black hair and startling blue eyes. She was slender now because of her imprisonment, but she once drifted up and down in her weight. After each of her two pregnancies, the pounds tended to remain more than being shed.
It had been a year since she last saw the sun. No one would speak to her, let alone answer her questions. But she heard occasional conversations through her door. There was hushed talk of brutal murders. One time she thought she heard the mention of cannibalism, but she couldn’t be sure.
Surely these conversations could not be connected to Nijo; she was a nurse and devoted her life to caring for the sick. But she had vague memories that she didn’t understand; flashes of perception that were more than disturbing. They were horrifying. There was also some connection with these horrors to ancient rituals of healing she had tried to incorporate into her practice. Nijo also recalled the most unsettling consequence of using these ancient rights: the complete loss of memory after she used the power.
* * *
Nijo had been content with her life. Her husband, Jim, was a hard-working engineer and provided a good life for her and their two daughters, Kim, age two, and Heather, age four. She was a nurse, and didn’t need to work, but she loved her profession and could not imagine life without nursing. When caring for the sick, she felt complete. To serve the patients most in need of her skills, she chose hospice nursing, and with that decision she would do a great deal of good but also seal her fate.
The patients she encountered had the most urgent care requirements. They required comfort along the road toward their death. And Nijo provided help along that road with care and compassion. But, deep inside she felt she was not doing enough to ease the suffering of the dying.
It was shortly after this feeling of inadequacy began that she met Robbie. Robbie, Roberta, was a hospice nurse working at the same agency. She was older than Nijo, blond, tall and had a striking presence of authority whenever she entered the room of a patient. Extremely competent in her discipline, she used all the skills at her command to ease the fears and pain of the dying. It was Robbie’s knowledge of a little recognized discipline that would determine Nijo’s future.
Robbie and Nijo became close friends. One day Nijo asked, “There are times I feel I could do more for my patients. Robbie, your patients seem to possess an inner peace different from those I work with. What do you do for them that I don’t?”
Robbie replied, “I’ve learned to use a healing method called Reiki. When you use this discipline, power comes through your hands as you work with the patient to help heal and provide a feeling of peace. For some patients it works, for some it doesn’t, but in our profession, you do what you must to ease pain and suffering.”
Nijo took some Reiki classes with Robbie and began to see the benefits of this mystical approach to helping the dying. However, the success rate was less than she had hoped for, that’s when she asked Robbie, “Is there anything more I can do? Is there another step beyond Reiki?”
Robbie hesitated, and then answered, “There is a force beyond Reiki, but it is dangerous. There are consequences to the practitioner if it is used. You might say, when you use this power, there are debts to be paid. I’ve never had the nerve to pursue it.”
Nijo responded, “If we can comfort the dying, no debt is too much. Will you tell me what this method is called?”
“It is called Mejocuthru. No one knows its origin. Even its most practiced masters seldom use this power. They fear it.”
Nijo asked Robbie, “Who are these masters? How can I meet them?”
Robbie paused, and then said, “I once asked the same questions and was led to a master. But what she told me stopped me from asking more.”
“What did this master tell you?”
“She said that with every use of Mejocuthru you must do the equivalent amount of harm to match the good you accomplished.”
Now it was Nijo’s turn to hesitate. She thought for a while, and then said, “If there is something out there that will help me with my patients, I would like to at least look into it. How can I meet this master?”
Robbie replied, “I shouldn’t have told you about Mejocuthru. It’s dangerous.”
“Look, Robbie, you know the type of patients we deal with. For the most part, their lives are full of pain and suffering, not to mention the emotional strain on their families. I would do anything to help these people. To be honest, I’m surprised you have not used this discipline.”
Robbie thought for a moment and considered how persuasive the master had been against her learning Mejocuthru. She thought the master would also be able to discourage Nijo, so reluctantly, she gave Nijo the master’s address.
* * *
It was weeks before Nijo had time to search out the Mejocuthru master. The workload was unusually heavy and her kids were sick so when she wasn’t caring for her patients she was nursing her children.
One sunny cold Saturday afternoon she asked Jim to watch the girls. “I’ve got some errands to run. Would you mind staying home with the kids?”
Jim looked up from the college football game he was watching and said, “No problem. On your way home, why don’t you pick up a pizza for dinner?” He returned to the game as his wife closed the front door.
She made her way to the address Robbie supplied. It was in the Chinese section of town. She consulted a city map and had no trouble locating the home of the Mejocuthru master. She pulled up in front of the building and was momentarily confused, “This can’t be the right address,” she said to herself. The building housed a Chinese restaurant. In the window of the grimy building was a row of cured ducks hung by their necks, suspended over oriental fruit and vegetables. Above were apartments, but the doorway leading upstairs displayed a different number.
Nijo went into the restaurant and was immediately approached by a waiter who asked in a heavy accent, “Can I seat you?” The room smelled of exotic sauces and spices. Clouds had darkened the afternoon sky, and the room appeared not to absorb what little light that filtered through the dirty front window. The few customers present were seated in the darkness muttering in Asian dialects.
Nijo said, “I was given this address by a friend. I’ve come to see the Mejocuthru master.”
The waiter’s expression changed from neutral to one of malice. “That is not possible,” he said. “Who sent you here?”
She gave him Robbie’s name. A brief look of recognition passed over his face.
“Sit here,” he growled, pointing to the area reserved for take-out customers and disappeared through a beaded curtain leading to the kitchen. Sometime later he reemerged, perspiring heavily. He had the same countenance of anger, but now he also bore a hint of uncertainty.
In a gruff voice, he said, “Follow me.”
The waiter led Nijo through the beaded curtain and into the kitchen where a host of Chinese cooks shouted to one another in their sing-song language. Here the exotic smell of the food was overpowering. Hurriedly, Nijo was shown to the rear of the room to a flight of stairs leading to the basement. The steps leading into the darkness were wooden and well-worn. In the faint light from an occasional bare bulb, Nijo found herself walking through a maze of tiny storerooms containing shelves of cans displaying Asian characters and jar upon jar of spices. One room was reserved for nothing but tea; another for huge bags of rice. He led Nijo to the darkest recesses of the cellar and a rust-stained metal door. He unlocked a heavy bolt and motioned Nijo inside. Immediately after she entered, the door was locked behind her. Her nostrils were attacked by the heavy smell of incense. Behind a single wavering candle flame appeared to be a pile of rags. Then the rags began to move, becoming a solitary figure surrounded by cushions. Even after her eyes had adjusted, Nijo could only make out a shadowy figure.
In perfect English, without the hint of an accent, the specter motioned to the pile of cushions and said, “Come here, child, and sit.”
The voice was that of a woman and was gentle but with an undertone of despair. Now seated, Nijo could begin to discern the woman’s features. Her face was a mass of wrinkles with deep-set slanted eyes, a flat nose and small mouth.
“My name is Maggie Wu,” said the woman. “I have been a prisoner in this room for many years. It is a painful, lonely existence, one I wish I could end, but I am powerless to do so.”
Nijo asked, “Why are you held prisoner? Are these people holding you hostage?”
The old woman answered, “I do not know why I am here. They say I did terrible things, but I don’t recall. I have had visitors, but they were either curious or vengeful. This has been my existence for more years than I can remember. “What brings you here, my child?”
Nijo answered, “A friend of mine and I have been practicing Reiki to help our patients. We are hospice nurses and have had some success in relieving some of their pain, but nothing consistent. I asked my friend, Robbie, if there was some stronger discipline we could use with more power and more certainty. Reluctantly, she told me about Mejocuthru and how to find you. She said there were risks but I would risk anything to help my patients.”
“Would you, my dear? I recall your friend. You must have been very persuasive, for not only did I deter her from using Mejocuthru but made her swear not to tell anyone of my existence.”
Nijo said, “I was rather relentless in my questioning. Do not be mad at Robbie. Please agree to teach me.”
The old woman reached out her gnarled hands to Nijo. “Give me your hands,” she ordered.
Nijo extended her hands and felt a strange tingle when they were held by the woman.
The woman said, “You have a deep desire to heal. I have never experienced this power in another. Perhaps you could control the power of Mejocuthru. I will tell you my history; then we will see.
“I was a healer taught by healers from the old country. They said I had many natural abilities and revealed to me powers and cures unknown in this country. I did much good for the Chinese community, but I felt I wasn’t doing enough, that there was a further step I could take.”
“I have the same feelings,” said Nijo, “that there is something beyond the Reiki I use.”
The old woman shook her head in disgust. “Reiki is for amateurs, a weak discipline practiced by weak people. Mejocuthru is where the real power lies. With Mejocuthru you can perform miracles. The old masters warned me of dangers, of doing well but of also doing evil. But I accepted the power. I raised the dead. It was only then I realized the power I possessed.
“The old masters said I would perform unspeakable acts if I used this knowledge. After I began to cure using Mejocuthru, the only problem I encountered was the loss of memory after healing. Soon after I raised a young woman from death I was imprisoned and have been here ever since. I long to be free. No one will explain why I am here, but I know I did some good and that is what is important. Those thoughts are what keep me alive.”
Nijo said, “I do not understand how such a great healing tool can do evil. I want to learn. I want to possess this power.”
The old woman smiled and said, “I will teach you. There is a chant you must learn. One that will release the powers of Mejocuthru into the people you touch to heal the disease that sickens them.
“Come, child. Lean forward and I will whisper the chant so that you may heal the sick.”
Nijo leaned close to the ancient healer. The old woman spoke the chant into Nijo’s ear. When the lesson was finished, the old woman told Nijo, “You are now a Mejocuthru healer. Go and help the sick; the power is yours.”
As soon as she said these words, the old woman’s images appeared to waiver; then slowly fade. Before Nijo’s disbelieving eyes, there appeared a boiling black cloud where the woman had been. Rather than dissipating, the cloud began to fall into itself. It became constantly smaller until all that remained was a solitary black dot hovering above the candle. Then it was gone.
Nijo shuddered and rose from the cushions. She had no idea what she had just witnessed, however, she felt a new sense of power that was pleasurable, that needed to be shared. She pounded on the door to be released. The door was opened by the waiter who had led her to the room. Nijo said, “I am finished here,” and walked past the man. After a minute or so, his eyes began to adjust to the darkened room. The chamber was empty. He searched the small room in disbelief and horror.
* * *
After arriving home, Nijo called Robbie. The excitement in Nijo’s voice was obvious; a flash of fear crossed Robbie’s mind. Nijo said, “I saw her, the Mejocuthru master. She told me her secrets and then…”
“And then what?” asked Robbie.
In all honesty, Nijo had no idea what she had witnessed. The woman had disappeared. Was this part of the associated curse? Nijo quickly steered the conversation away from the old woman. “I can feel the tingle of this new power in my body,” said Nijo. “I feel I must use it soon.”
The opportunity soon presented itself. Nijo was assigned a patient, Mary Littlecroft, age twenty-six, suffering from bone cancer. Chemotherapy did not provide a cure and her right leg was to be amputated. Mary was heartbroken when told the news. When Nijo came to visit, Mary cried, “I can’t bear the thought of losing my leg. I’ve always been athletic – a runner. I know I’ll survive without my leg, that many people with cancer have no hope at all. I know I’m being selfish, but if I lose my leg…”
Nijo tried to console Mary. After a few visits, Nijo noticed something. Every time she came near the young woman, she felt a tingle she knew was the force of Mejocuthru inside of her waiting to be released. Nijo finally decided to use her healing power on Mary.
After lowering the lights, Nijo approached Mary’s bed and quietly said, “I want to try something I learned. I have never used it before. There should be no pain. It might not work, but I’d like to try.”
Mary said, “I have nothing to lose but my leg. Try anything you want.”
Nijo placed her hands on Mary’s leg. Blue-white sparks danced from her fingertips. Mary groaned, but it was not one of pain but of pleasure. Mary said, “I feel something in my leg that is overcoming the dull pain I feel constantly.” As tears welled in her eyes, she continued, “My leg has not felt like this for a long time.” She pushed away the covers and stood; then walked. That was when the flow of tears became a flood. Mary cried, “I don’t know what you did, Nijo, but something wonderful has happened to my leg. What did you do?”
With an amazed voice, Nijo said, “I learned a new healing discipline. You are the first person I have tried it on.”
To that Mary said, “You have a gift, a healing gift. Thank you so much.”
Nijo was unsure what to say. She had no idea her experience with Mejocuthru would be so positive so quickly. Could this power reverse the cancer or just provide momentary comfort? Nijo said good-bye to her patient, and then walked to her car. She felt a strange emptiness and decided to take a walk along the darkened streets before she returned home. It was something she needed to do. She put her nursing bag in her car and then began walking. After a few steps she blacked out and did not come to again until she was sitting in her car. Not knowing what had happened, she felt uncomfortable about the blackout. Nothing like this had ever happened before. She went home, kissed her husband, and played with the girls after dinner. It was still early when she told Jim, “I’m drained. I think I’ll go to bed early.”
“No problem,” answered Jim. “I’ll put the girls to bed soon and then maybe read for awhile.”
The next morning Jim leafed through the local paper. The rag was a joke in the community. The stories they published were often confusing, and occasionally, made no sense at all. As he read the paper, Jim was known to often shout, “Doesn’t anyone proof-read this stuff? It’s a joke.”
As he sat at the breakfast table, a small article caught his attention. As Nijo entered the kitchen, he said, “Listen to this. Last night someone leapt out of some bushes and struck a young woman in the leg, breaking it. It was near where you saw a patient yesterday. You better be careful in that neighborhood.”
“That’s strange,” said Nijo. “It’s such a quiet community.” She began to cook breakfast and quickly forgot about the article.
Over the next few weeks, Nijo used her Mejocuthru powers on patients whose lives were so full, yet were racked by pain and the specter of death. Every time she practiced this ancient right she blacked-out. Blacking out was the side effect she associated with her healing.
Then the event occurred that would change her life forever. She had a patient, a young woman of thirty, pregnant with twins and found to have colon cancer. She needed chemotherapy, and without it, would surely die. But the therapy would destroy the twins. Nijo was assigned the case. Her patient, Julie, refused the chemo.
“I could not go on with my life if it would cost the lives of my babies,” she told Nijo.
Nijo could feel the stress Julie and her husband, Jonathan, were under. She kept her powers in check, hoping for some miracle, until she realized she was their only hope. The tingling had also begun, more intense than ever before.
Then one day she went to visit Julie and could tell the end was near, probably in a matter of hours. Nijo felt a compassion she could not overcome. She needed to do something to save this young family. She needed to use her powers. Sitting next to Julie, she put one hand on the woman’s head and one on her belly, while she recited the Mejocuthru chant. Feeling a power she had never experienced, she continued to chant with a voice that soon filled the house.
Jonathan became concerned and entered the bedroom. He found Julie sitting up in bed, resting against the pillows and smiling as she clutched her belly. He next gazed at Nijo. She had a vacant stare, walked past him and left the house.
Nijo had used the full force of her powers. She remained in a trance for months after the healing. Little did she realize that the consequence of using so much power would destroy her life and that of her family.
When Nijo returned home after the healing, neighbors reported hearing ungodly screams coming from the home and called the police. They arrived, but it was too late. Nijo sat amid the carnage that was once her family. Veteran officers were sickened by what they saw. After a short trial, Nijo was committed to an insane asylum. This was where she returned from her blackout.
* * *
There was a recent nursing graduate, Debbie, who was assigned to Nijo’s wing in the asylum. Being new, she had not yet developed the thick skin necessary to deal with some of the patients. She had been told to never talk to this particular patient, told she was too dangerous. One night she approached the cell with dinner, and instead of just leaving it, said, “Here’s dinner,” out of force of habit.
Nijo ran to the door. No one ever spoke to her. “Thank you,” Nijo replied.
Debbie said, “I was told not to talk to you. I’m sorry,” then turned to leave.
“I’m not insane,” answered Nijo, “just confused. I’ve been confused for a long time.”
“Why are you here?” asked Debbie.
“I’m not sure, but you are the first nurse that has talked to me. I have a special healing power and am no longer allowed to use it.”
“What sort of power?”
“There is a chant I know that can cure anything you wish to cure. It may cause you to blackout, but it would be a waste to have it die with me. Could I tell you about it?”
Debbie listened to Nijo’s story about the old Chinese woman and the chant she learned. She then asked, “Could you teach me how to use this power? I want to help the sick, that’s why I’m a nurse.”
Nijo leaned close to the small opening in the door of her cell and revealed to Debbie the chant. Debbie immediately felt a tingling over her entire body. She knew something had happened, and then said, “Thank you, Nijo. I know I can do well with what I feel.”
But Nijo never heard Debbie’s thanks. Her body separated into countless particles yet remained united in their intelligence. Her body became a dark boiling cloud which soon concentrated into an indigo point and disappeared. This was the dark, the evil consumed by the power of the owner to heal. This was the balance. Nijo felt herself drifting, leaving the Earth behind; searching for the next level as she being dissipated in space.
THE END
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