Spare parts are an essential requirement for any end product that wants to survive beyond its allocated time.
"I enjoy listening to the rhythm, life is dependable in here. The aspirators' wheeze, the cheerful gurgle of drip feeds and the pacemakers' pulsing throbs. John Seven over there lost his left kidney. Richard Five next to him is missing his liver. Janet Two in that next row has half the skin off her face gone. Yes, the recipients were very grateful."
The caretaker brushed back his straggly long hair and grinned at his visitor.
"Every life function down here is remotely monitored of course. It’s all under automatic control, I only have to look and listen as a backup."
Slurp ... blip ... slosh ... harhh ...
"Look at them. Rows of healthy vegetables, all arranged alphabetically. Well preserved and held together, last year's brittle sutures, clips and staples or this years' plastic skin, bone and gristle Old bald Boris One over there is the guy who gave me his hair. It was an experiment they'd never tried before apparently, but I volunteered right away. It was a perfect match and I didn't feel a thing when they scalped me.
Slurp ... blip ... slosh ... harhh ...
"It healed up in couple of days too, amazing technique they used. But you can see
though, it doesn't quite fit me perfectly. Sometimes it feels a bit loose. Scalps are tricky things to connect up properly, all those blood vessels. Look at mine though, it's still very neat and not dried up at all around the edges. His is an even better job, but mine didn't cost me anything so I can't complain, neither can he of course. Funny thing about him, they said he was some kind of magician, as well as a famous doctor. I believe he owned this place. Apart from his work here, he used to perform all kinds of weird tricks at private parties, but never on stage for some reason. I even heard that he dabbled in the occult, and made a lot of money as a very exclusive, and expensive, medium. Well some people will do anything, and pay any amount of money, to know their future."
The visitor nodded slowly, but remained silent. The caretaker rattled on.
"Transplant operations can cost a fortune. Some of these patients waiting here are clients, living on interest, awaiting a cure, another matching part, and then a breakthrough operation. I was really fortunate. Mine cost me nothing. It's not perfect, but the hair is long and silky and a lot better than what I had before. Look at his face, at that resigned expression. But you can tell he misses it, it really suited him."
Slurp ... blip ... slosh ... harhh ...
"It's good talking to you about my job. I do enjoy talking, not that I'm lonely in here, but apart from the machinery noises, which I'm used too now, it is nice to have someone to talk back to me occasionally. I can tell you can't though. Throat problem perhaps? Waiting to see about some treatment? Come to think of it though, I didn't notice you come in. When did you get in here, have you been waiting long?”
The visitor ignored the question and didn’t react at all.
”What's the matter? Sorry, I forgot you can't talk. Just nod your head then, the
usual yes and no movements I mean, when I ask the questions."
Slurp ... blip ... slosh ... harhh ...
"Are you a new client?
No? But you can't be a donor, not walking about. You aren't one of those are you, woken up?
I thought not,
Look here, did you break in and get by all the security screens?
No? Then you must have been in here all the time?
Yes? How could that be possible? No, sorry, that won't do at all for a yes or no answer. I meant to ask, have you been here all the time?
You have, but where? No that won't do either, but there's no place to hide. Not in this main area, that's for sure. From another room perhaps, that special one with the robot surgeon, where they work late, and never let me in, to see what's going on.?
No? Then where on earth ...?
No? You're shaking your head again. What? Not from earth, you can't mean that?
Yes you do? What the hell do you mean? Now why are you smiling like that? What are you? No, you can't answer that. Are you human?
Oh! Oh no, you're not human ... then what are you?"
The visitor decided it had heard enough. It began to change, rearing up and hissing horribly, revealing large sharp teeth, and thin wide lips twisted in a hideous grin. It's eyes reddened, as it roared and opened its claws and struck.
Slurp ... blip ... slosh ... harhh ... slurp …splat …
* * * * *
The drug finally wore off and the magician sat up unsteadily. He blinked a few times then, looking around, he saw the visitor. He felt and patted his scalp cautiouslly, waving phantom hair away from his eyes. "I wasn’t trying to fool you. It was only a surgical experiment for an old client. There are some things I have to try out for myself."
He smiled, nervously. "But I didn’t expect you yet. It's not time up yet, it can’t be. By my reckoning, I still have another three days to go, right?"
The visitor nodded slowly, then bowed and began to vanish, grinning teeth last.
The magician regarded the body of the caretaker for a few moments. The wound wasn’t too severe and the scalp transplant seemed undamaged. Then he shrugged and began to examine him expertly for signs of life. Finally satisfied, with an effort, he lifted the body up on to the operating trolley where he had been reclining before. He unlocked its wheels and then made his way with it back to into his laboratory. After carefully looking around, he closed and locked the door. Then panting slightly, he raised up and slid the caretaker’s body from the trolley on to the nearest of the three operating tables.
For a while he gazed at his reflection in a mirror, then turned to regard his more substantial image on the third operating table. He examined it closely, then satisfied at last, he switched on the robot surgeon and began to study his programming notes.
Shortly afterwards, with the remote control unit clutched tightly in his free hand he climbed up on to the centre table. He relaxed and then pressed the startup button. The three sets of triple beam lasers, each accurately focussed to locate the correct respective points in space, began the initial scanning phase.
"Here goes," he mused, as he activated the anaesthethic modes. "I‘ve no other choice, it's going to have to be my brain transplanted into this idiot, and his into my clone."
©2007-8 Tony Thorne MBE |
