“It was a simple
experiment…how did it end up like this?” Vladamir paced the damp sidewalk, dead
leaves clinging to the underside of his black boots. Rain splattered against
the taunt top of his ripped umbrella dripping down the back of his raincoat. A
blood curdling cry rang out in the night’s sky, sending ripples of fear down
Vladamir’s soaking back. Vladamir quickly glanced toward the squatting building
in the distance. Someone switched on a light on the third floor. Vladamir
nearly fell backward, gasping as he saw the outline of a woman standing in the
newly-lit window, staring down at his shaking form. “What have I done?” he
asked, wringing the umbrella handle tightly in his ghost-white hands.
“What on earth have you done? Sir! Excuse me.” The
high-pitched voice coming from over his left shoulder did not penetrate Vladamir’s
deep thoughts. The voice tried again, “Sir, sir, I must ask you, what on earth
you have done?” Vladamir’s focus was broken and he was forced to turn to the
toad-like man standing behind him.
“Of what matter is it to you of what I have done?” Vladamir
gazed downward, burning an icy hole into the man’s inquisitive looks. The toad
man shifted in his overly-oiled shoes, glancing at the piles of books
surrounding Vladamir: precariously stacked towers forty books high. Several
books lay flat on the table, their pages ripped from their binds and strewn
about as if a ravenous beast had gnashed into them, teeth ablaze for the blood
of their contents.
“Well sir, I am the librarian, and well…I don’t really
appreciate the way you seem to be treating these books.” Toad man’s squeak of a
voice was barely audible to the loud ideas tumbling around in Vladamir’s mind
like pennies in a tin can.
After an extremely long pause, Vladamir turned away from the
toady librarian, the conversation over, and immersed himself again in the
papers before him. Toad man could not decide whether to remain, but after a
moment’s hesitation, slunk away in embarrassment at the sight of Vladamir’s turned
back. Papers began flying off the table
as Vladamir made his way through stack after stack of notes. A slow rhythm of
curses tumbled from his lips as his hands sped along the table, looking for
something. The rhythm gained momentum as the remaining pages grew fewer and
fewer. The mumbling died away as Vladamir’s fingers began stroking one,
particularly aged page—running his fingers down the length of the column
searching the ancient writing, searching, searching. Then, “I’ve got it!” The
sudden exclamation from behind the towers of books surprised several studying
students, eager to be torn away from their studying of Chaucer and Saussure. Their
gaze drifted reluctantly back to their studying when nothing more came from
behind the leaning towers of books.
“Don’t you see what this means Suzanne?” Vladamir’s voice
was reaching near hysterics as he paced back and forth in front of Suzanne’s
hospital bed. Suzanne did not respond and Vladamir continued to pace around the
cold, metal frame. “I can fix this, I can fix this. All I have to do is…never
mind the details. What is important is that I can fix this.” Vladamir bit down
deeply on his lower lip to prevent the tears that had begun to collect in his
hazel eyes from falling. “I can fix you,”
he whispered quietly, staring at Suzanne.
“How is Suzanne doing today, Vladamir?” Dr. F—whose name was
too difficult to spell or pronounce for most patients—asked from the doorway.
“The same” Vladamir replied, moving to the window while Dr.
F examined his patient. “Her EEG looks good,” Dr. F’s tone was flat—neither
hopeful nor disappointed—like he was reporting the pledge of allegiance out of
obligation rather than of sincerity. Dr. F glanced hopefully toward Vladamir,
attempting to make conversation, but Vladamir continued to look out the window,
lost in contemplation. Finished with his observation, Dr. F began moving toward
the door, “By the way, how is your thesis coming along?”
Addressing the frosty window rather than Dr. F’s concerned
face, Vladamir responded “I found some new information last night. Now I just
have to finish the experiment.”
“I’m sure your experiment will impress the panel. You’ve
worked so hard on it for the last two years. “
At the mention of the last two years, Vladamir broke his
gaze from the frozen outer world and gazed back at Suzanne’s bed: the bed she had
been a trapped occupant of since that fateful evening two years ago. Dr. F,
recognizing Vladamir’s common look of regret and guilt, slipped quietly out of
Suzanne’s room to continue his rounds.
No one else was in the University’s lab when Vladamir
arrived. The lab had become his sanctuary in the last two years: first as a
distraction from reality and then as his only reality. His simple experiments became
more and more complex until no one, not even the professors, offered to help
him. His long legs covered the entire span of the lab in a few steps, bringing
him to the office door of Professor Clackuster. Knowing how trusting the
Professor was, Vladamir was surprised when the handle did not yield under his
grasp. Baffled, Vladamir stepped back and stared at the door in consideration.
Then, with one quick kick the door fell in on itself, revealing the
overly-organized interior of Clackuster’s office. Vladamir made his way to the
office’s back corner. Hunched behind a tall, black file cabinet was another
door, this one unsurprisingly unlocked. Moving quickly, Vladmir scanned the
small space until his eyes rested on a large mass. Taking out his notes,
Vladamir began evaluating the perfusion cords and the EEG, identical to the one
beside Suzanne’s bed. After checking and then rechecking all of his notes,
Vladamir began to sweat, starring at the in-vitro brain before him.
Visiting hours were over. Dr. F was most assuredly at home
eating dinner with his perfectly healthy and cognitive -functioning wife.
Vladamir, who in the past two years had become more ghost than human, had no
problem slipping by the nurses’ station. Suzanne’s room was quiet, except for
the slow rhythm of the rain that had just begun to fall from the darkened sky. Vladamir
knew he had to move quickly, but he hesitated, gently stroking the permanent
frown lines on Suzanne’s temple. Her black hair had lost most of its brilliant
sheen and her skin had turned from its sun-kissed tan to a sickly white. Gazing
down at her, Vladamir could not help but wish fairy tales were real and that
with one kiss from Prince Charming this beautiful Snow White would awaken from
her slumber. Leaning down, he softly kissed Suzanne’s lips. Tears fell from his
quivering eyelashes onto her tightly-closed eyelids, giving the false illusion
that she was crying out of pain as well. Straightening up, Vladamir brushed
away his grief. “It’s time.”
