Mind and Flesh Page 6

  It tries to direct it toward its vagina, but my penis is flabby.

  I have no reason to be excited and erect, I am in pain and in panic.

  The rabbit’s shoulders and posture lowers as bit, as if its disappointment made it lose focus.

  It brings its two arms up in the direction of its face.

  My right arm is free.

  I quickly glance around and see the knife I had dropped.

  I grab it as fast as I can.

  The rabbit is pulling its mask up.

  I cut its throat.

  The rabbit quickly brings its hands to cover its throat as blood gushes on me.

  I can see the face.

  My wife.

  She looks panicked, her eyes fixed on me with a look of bewilderment.

  She can’t correctly apply pressure with her hands covered in the costume.

  Blood keeps dripping and getting absorbed in the fake fur.

  After a few more moments, she loses strength and falls flat on me.

  I don’t know whether to feel sorry or worried.

  I feel myself drifting away.

  I slowly open my eyes again. The only thing I can feel is tiredness. And also… Strangely, I feel very light! But I must focus on this environment. I see human shapes in my field of view, and I concentrate on their voices.

  “No, this is not working. Either he speaks or we have to dive in.”

  “Are you crazy? I have no idea if this thing works.” Are there people chatting?

  “Didn’t you report that he said so?”

  “Yes errr… he did say that he managed it, but on the previous model. I really have no idea what the specs of this machine are.” This voice sounds very familiar.

  “We will have to take the risk if there is no other way to retrieve the information.” I don’t know that voice.

  “Please, I don’t want to do this… ”

  “Neither do I. I have a suggestion.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The wife. She is expendable. We can have her try, and if it works alright we can then try ourselves.” Wife? Are they talking about my wife?

  “Do you realize what she’s been through? Can’t you leave her alone?” What has my wife been through?

  “I do not recommend that any of you contests my… suggestions.”

  “Or what?” That voice seems to be afraid. There is a pause.

  “Sir?” Another voice, that was silent until now.

  “Yes?”

  “He is back.”

  The shapes move closer to me. I can make up the silhouettes of my colleague, an unknown man, and someone wearing a white coat. The unknown man starts talking to me:

  “Can you hear me?”

  I don’t really feel like answering. Everything seems so distant and unimportant.

  “If you can hear me, show me a sign, blink or anything.”

  The person with the white coat intervenes.

  “It’s useless. Even if he was able to talk, the morphine keeps him sedated.”

  The unknown man gets his face so close to mine that I can’t see anything else.

  “You fucked up. You could have had a brilliant future. The budget you needed and more. A real patriot. But no. You thought it would be better to decide all by yourself and to hide what you were doing from us. Let me tell you something, you are a cog in the system. You are not unique. You are just useful. But your usefulness has expired. When a cog is faulty, we replace it with a better one. All we need to know is how to access your code, the result of your previous experiments, and the full abilities of the machine you have created. So someone else can take over and lead this project to where we want it. But since you don’t deem reasonable to cooperate, we have trapped you like a rabbit. We are using your machine against you. We are trying to get your brain to reveal its secrets while you are unconscious. We stimulate your brain to try to elicit the memory of where you put the data, and we are receiving some approximate pictures. Let me tell you, even if we can’t see clearly, it’s not pretty. You are quite fucked up. I guess that we have some responsibility of how badly fucked up you are now. But it comes from your own decision. You let it slip that you have adapted your machine to work on human brains, no? Well, if you don’t give me answers now, we will rape your mind until we can squeeze the information out of it. So, still nothing to say?”

  This guy is dangerous. I try to gain back my senses to take in full what he just said. I am in danger. My mind is in danger. He is still right on my face, trying to pass my expression under his scrutiny. I need to move or give him a sign to gain time and assess the situation. I try to move an arm.

  I can’t move. My body feels completely separated from myself. I can’t even feel the sense of touch. I am connected to my machine, which means that there is a neuro-helmet on my head, scanning all my neuronal electric signals. But fuck I can’t feel it even if it is right on top of my head. Is it because of the morphine? Or is something wrong? There must be a reason they gave me morphine, it’s not in their best interest to have me high.

  SO WHY CAN’T I FEEL A THING

  Is that a side-effect from my machine? I don’t think so. I can’t move my head and look at my body. Fuck… And I feel so weak.

  I can’t wave at that fucker to gain some time… I need to think, quickly.

  The guy moves back and I don’t have to suffer his full face in my field of view anymore.

  “No answer. That was to be expected, I guess. We will try one last time to visualize what’s in your mind with the reconstituted picture on your machine, but if it fails, we will start being more invasive.”

  He turns toward my colleague.

  “Keep monitoring the display.”

  “Alright.”

  Fucking asshole, I was right to never trust him.

  “Now, tell me. Where do you hide all your data?”

  Shit, if I picture it in my mind, they will find it. I need to focus on something else. I picture a hand giving him the middle finger.

  “Do you see anything?”

  “He’s resisting.”

  Oh, I know. I will show them fucking each other. It requires a lot of focus and tires me so much, but it’s so worth it. Yes, I can picture it just fine.

  “Ah! Don’t do that please, just give him his answer and we can get this over with.”

  “What is he doing?”

  “Still trying to confuse us.”

  “SHOW US THE GODDAMN PLACE WHERE YOU HIDE YOUR DATA!”

  Shit I almost thought about it. I concentrate on a brick wall to motivate myself to shut off other places my mind would want to automatically wander about.

  And now I can again picture them fucking each other. I will add a twist, the angry guy beheading my colleague. Yeah, lots of blood. Then he fucks the head.

  “Shit! We won’t get anything out of him this way.”

  “At least we know his mind is still working, and can try other methods. Actually, perhaps there was enough stimulation for him to unintentionally think about it. Doctor, can you force him to sleep?”

  “Yes, a quick injection. Do you want that now?”

  “Yes go on.”

  No… I need to protect the information. I need to think about something else and hope my mind will pick up on it. I see the man in the white coat getting closer to me. Quickly, I need to think about something unrelated…

  I am walking in a park.

  My sister is by my side.

  It is sunny. She is smiling.

  She breaks the ice, asking me if the wedding date has been decided.

  I answer that it has.

  She tells that I made the right decision to marry her. That she is a great woman.

  I reply that I know it already. That I am totally in love with her, and I know I’m not making a mistake by marrying her.

  She then surprises me by saying something unexpected. That I should get married quickly before she steals my future wife away from me. She tells me that it’s a gorgeous lady, and s
he would love to have her for herself.

  She then winks at me and races off to the bandstand.

  I can see that she is blushing.

  I knew my sister likes girls, but I didn’t know she fancied my future wife so much.

  She is waiting for me, still smiling.

  She queries if this is the place my future wife asked me to become her boyfriend.

  I nod.

  She says that she is glad the girl made the first step, it takes strength, determination and a strong will.

  I ask why, but I am pretty happy that things happened this way. I have never been very good to ask girls out. But my future wife, she has been leading the way all along.

  She answers that usually girls fear rejection way too much.

  I don’t care. Dating is something of the past now. I am about to get married.

  I look at my sister. She is a pretty good looking girl as well.

  I shrug off the thoughts.

  She asks if my busy work will allow me to have family time.

  I wonder. I reply that works comes first, and that my future wife knows it. But I will try to make time for her.

  She giggles and says that scientists should be married with science instead. Except that science does not give amazing sex.

  I reply that science is more like a BDSM relationship, with the great mighty science dominating its slave.

  She laughs and grabs my arm, repeating that I am a poor thing.

  I feel relaxed by her side.

  I close my eyes.

  I open my arms.

  I must have dozed off, the whole classroom is empty.

  Only the professor is sitting at her desk, looking at me with an angry face.

  I look at my desk.

  There is an exam copy. It is half empty.

  I grab a pen and try to fill the empty space.

  The professor clears her throat then tells me that if I had anything overtime, my grade is a fail.

  I am frustrated.

  I grab my copy and slowly walk toward her.

  I want to hand it over.

  The professor tells me that I am too late and she will fail my grade.

  I try to defend my case.

  The professor grabs my copy and crosses out my name.

  She says that an unrecognizable name is a fail.

  I tell her that she can’t do that.

  She tears my copy to pieces and says that it’s a fail.

  This is too frustrating. I feel like I’m stuck.

  I won’t give up.

  I grab a pile of other student’s copies on her desk and go to a student desk.

  I will put my name on each one of them.

  The professor smirks and tells that she will fail the whole class.

  I tell her that she can’t do that.

  She answers that she has the power to.

  She picks up a chair, slams it to the wall.

  It breaks. Only a metal leg remains in her hand.

  She says that she misses when corporal punishment was allowed.

  I don’t know what I should do. This situation makes no sense.

  She asks me where the documents are. Where did I hide the data.

  I need not to think about this. I need to focus on something else.

  She hits my head with the metal bar, cracking my skull open.

  I fall on the ground.

  She reaches for me and enters her pointy fingers in my exposed brain, nails first.

  I scream.

  I am working at my computer, from home.

  I hear the sound of a page being turned and look around.

  My wife is reading a book on the couch.

  I focus back on my work.

  I hear my wife turning another page. With force.

  She is probably preoccupied.

  I keep working until she has put her thoughts in order.

  As I thought, she then addresses me in a serious tone, saying she wants to talk.

  I spin on my chair to face her, crossing my arms.

  She looks conflicted for a moment, but after a few seconds the angry side of her face seems to win.

  She says that she wants me to stop killing bunnies.

  Here she goes again.

  I reply that she cares a lot about animals, for someone allergic to animal hair.

  She seems really pissed. I can understand why, I shouldn’t have used that angle to attack her.

  She justifies herself by pointing out that being allergic does not prevent her from caring about them, and understanding that they are sentient being with feelings.

  She pushes on with her usual arguments she learned in her meetings with other animal right activists.

  I am sure that she just went to such a meeting today, and they pushed her to talk to me.

  She says that humans are abusing animals daily. They get them as pets, cannot take good care of them and abandon them. Torture them for drugs and beauty products. Enslave them to eat their meat.

  She asks me why I do have to work on rabbits.

  I have already told her.

  I can’t work directly on humans. I could work on mice or rats, but they are a bit too small for the tools I use.

  Rabbits are a bit more expensive and need more care, but their brains have a size that is easier for me to perform on.

  I tell her that in research, we need to work on animals before we work on humans. That science requires animal sacrifices to progress.

  She answers that if humans want to benefit from the research, they should assume their responsibility and do the research on themselves directly instead of sacrificing others.

  I feel pity for her. I want to reassure her. I whisper that I have modified my machine to be compatible to humans.

  Her face lightens up. Then darkens up, and she says that it won’t make up for the hundreds of rabbits whose brains I have butchered.

  I don’t know what to say, so I spin around to get back to work.

  I see a white room.

  I am lying in bed, strapped on with many bonds.

  A man with the mask of the president is bending over my face.

  He asks me where the documents are. He has the voice of that unknown angry guy I met earlier.

  He disappears from my view and another man bends over me. He has the mask of a baby.

  Asking the same question, in the same voice.

  He moves away and a man with the head of an eagle bends over. Bites my nose until it bleeds then leaves my view.

  It hurts. And I am freaked out.

  I want them to fucking leave me alone.

  A man with a mask covered in living eyes bends over me.

  They are all looking at me. Sometimes, an eye or the over blinks, which unsettles me even more.

  I don’t see any mouth, but the person behind the mask asks me where the documents are. Same voice again.

  I hate that voice. I fucking hate that voice.

  Someone comes from the side. A man dressed in black, wearing a black mask.

  He punches me in the face multiple times.

  I stomach the pain, unable to move.

  The man brings his hands closer to his mask, then swiftly grabs it to remove it.

  I see a round head, closely shaved with no apparent hair. But that is the face that is most unsettling.

  No eyes, no nose. Just a huge smiling mouth, with gigantic incisors in the middle.

  The man keeps smiling for a while, and then moves away.

  Another man with his skull open and brain apparent bends over me.

  He smiles, and blood from his mouth drips on my face.

  I close my eyes to protect them.

  When I open them again, a person in a bunny costume is bending over me.

  The person removes the head of the costume, revealing the face of my wife.

  She is not smiling. She says that I am in purgatory for killing animals.

  She gets on the bed, and sits on my belly.

  She grabs a drill from a beds
ide table and points it to my face.

  She says that it’s now time to look directly in my brain.

  She starts the drill and penetrate my skull.

  I try to free myself from my restraints like a wild animal, and then I start to feel…

  …THE PAIN it HURTS it HURTS it HURTS!

  Blood spurts everywhere as I lose consciousness.

  I am at home, sitting on the couch, reading a recent scientific review on my tablet.

  Night is falling, I get up to switch the lights on.

  I look at the cage where our bunny was.

  The day when we had burglars, its cage was opened to be searched, as everything else.

  The bunny probably escaped through the front door which was opened.

  Neither I nor my wife ever bothered to go look for it.

  I make myself comfortable on the couch and resume reading.

  My wife is being late.

  She should be home by now.

  After a while, I finally hear her keys on the lock and the front doors opening.

  I wonder if I should tell her welcome home.

  We have been distant lately.

  There is something wrong, I don’t hear the sound her heels usually make on the floor.

  I hear muffled, heavy steps. More than one person.

  My instincts awaken, adrenaline is shot in my system.

  I quickly go to the kitchen to grab a knife.

  As I am just wearing socks, I didn’t make a sound.

  I crouch and look from the side of the doorframe.

  Coming from the entrance, a few black masked men.

  Carrying rifles.

  I start to fear for my life and panic.

  I hurry to the next window, open it as fast as possible and throw myself outside.

  A few meters away, at the entrance, my wife is standing.

  Around her, a group of black masked men are in position.

  They all spot me.

  My wife calls me. The black masked men yell at me to stop.

  I run to the neighbor’s fence and climb over it.

  I hear them running after me.

  I run to the backyard and climb over the next fence.

  I run to cross the road as fast as possible and…

  A car going by hits me in the back.

  I am projected on the ground.

  I just have the time to feel its wheels running over me before I pass out from the shock and the surprise.

  I open my eyes. I am lying in a bed. I see the doctor in the white coat on the side. Looking at the screen from my machine are three people. My colleague, the dangerous guy, and… my wife.