Chapter 5, Part I

Vandigera shut her eyes, trying to block out the sound of the gruesome machinery that depleted the chemical makeup of an innocent political prisoner. And to think that the man would not even be here if the dictator had not risen to power…

Wishful thinking; everything evolved around the dictator now. He was in perfect health; thirty years of age, great physical condition. He had the support of the Mesomifult congress and the media networks. Possibly the control of both as well, since nothing seemed to escape his grasp.

Why had she accepted the job opportunity; the chance to be a "great" contributer to medical science? This was not where she wanted to be, or what she expected it would be. She wished she could just go back to life as it had been before Querilon took it over. But she was not brave enough to turn in a resignation form.

I am a coward, Vandigera thought to herself, a first- rate coward. I have lost my morality, my purity, my life, all because I cling to my career in desperation. But what would people think if I gave up my job here? How would I pay for lodging, for food, for entertainment? I want to get married; who would marry a woman without a job?

An electronic beep sounded from the machine, notifying her that the cycle was complete. Who cared? She didn't at least. It was the doctor's wretched experiment, his treasure. Never had she seen him so impassioned about someone or something, whether experiment or cause in science. Now, it was both, and he was absolutely infatuated.

Still, she could not resist the innate curiosity that characterized her since childhood. Slowly, she opened the heavy iron door and unclasped the container locks, looking for a moment at the formerly respectable man, the victim of unloving fate. He was not even dead; a heaving chest showed that the injured lungs still struggled for oxygen.

A clang behind her made her jump, dropping the lid as she did so. Turning around, she faced the doctor, smiling widely. He did not seem to have any troubles, at least.

"Is the cycle completed, Vandigera? Has our patient taken his first step into becoming the greatest scientific achievement of the century?" He strode forward and lifted the lid, noting the body with professional satisfaction.

"You monster; he still breathes! You were villain enough to-"

"Not place him in a medical coma? Absolutely, my dear Vandigera – you could not have stated the truth more plainly. Experiments tend to succeed more often when the patient is kept alive and active, as-"

"Do not call me that again, doctor; I tire of your false terms of endearment. They grate on my nerves-"

"Just as you grate on mine at this very moment, dear one, so you have no reason to complain at all. The experiment is turning out beautifully, would you not say, poppet?" He never grew angry, face frozen in a permanent smile. It was almost eerie how wide the smile was, and its never-failing place on his mouth.

A plethora of other medical staff entered the room, distracting the doctor's attention from Vandigera to the patient, who now lay still in the machine. Pain and chemical combustion had forced him into a coma.

Slowly, the staff lifted the body out of the container onto a moveable table covered with an excessive layer of paper. Again, the doctor smiled at Vandigera before taking charge of the medical crew, leading the procession out of the room to the general surgery area.

She followed, less out of actual interest than ingrained habit from countless numbers of previous operations. Donning a thin mask and cloak, she took her place among the staff and watched the doctor, who quickly sterilized his gloves and medical tools, laying each instrument on a small table.

The doctor was excited, his words many and his actions rapid; too rapid, in fact. Twice he pricked himself on an unsterilized needle in his flurry of activity, cursing but continuing on without stopping to check the syringes – a careless man.

Vandigera shuddered as the doctor gleefully made his incisions; wasteful cuts that were too long for practicality. But unlike the other figures of medicine, the doctor did not have to worry about a legal battle from the patient; he could easily be replaced by one of the hundreds more lying in the ward. The doctor talked rapidly as he continued the operation.

"See how I cut this brain cord here, to remove the ability to navigate about by movement of the limbs. This will be replaced by an electronic manipulator that will send the brain pulses dictating movement based off emotion. And this here-"

The operation did not even make logical sense. Movement based off of emotion? Electronic pulses stimulating the brain to position the body in different ways? What a total idiot he was; an idiot who did not care that he was an idiot in the least. This experiment would die immediately after the operation, and the doctor would have to admit that the entire ordeal was foolish and nonsensical, just as Vandigera had predicted less than two hours ago.

She felt sick and queasy inside, like liquid sloshing in an over-sized glass container. Was it the surgery itself that sickened her?

Vandigera could not stay another minute in the wretched room – it felt as if she was being suffocated. Turning around, she walked from the room, ignoring the stares of her coworkers. Let them stare if they wanted.

*****

The door glided open as the doctor wheeled the experiment in, whistling a non-melodic tune while he again surveyed the results of his work. Vandigera quickly moved back into the shadows of the room. She wanted nothing to do with the wretched doctor.

Unfortunately the doctor saw her before she could conceal herself in the darkness, calling her out with a wide smile. "My dear, there is nothing to be afraid of, nothing to run from. The experiment is simply undergoing more chemical re-arrangement before the final two surgeries – naught to be disturbed of at all! In less than four hours, we will have the greatest medical achievement ever on our hands! But alas, I will need your help for one more step, dear. I need you to calibrate the machine."

She stayed silent, eyeing the doctor with disgust and annoyance. Could he not see that she wanted nothing to do with the "great" medical advancement? Of course he could – not that he cared in the least for what she or any of the other nurses wanted. Nettled but obedient, Vandigera powered on the machine and began the calibration process using the electronic keypad.

It was soon finished; too soon, in her opinion. Now she stood in the corner, watching the doctor lift the experiment from the table to place it in the container. What was he planning to accomplish by yet another chemical re-makeover? Why did he insist on this specific methodology of working? Or was he carelessly mutilating the body, following no process at all?

"You haven't been, have you?"

The doctor looked up with a smile. "Haven't what, my dear?" She stiffened. That word seemed to grow more and more aggravating every time it was used.

"Following any logical pattern of work; this experiment served as a playground for your fancies!"

"On the contrary, my dear one, you are quite mistaken. I have a method to my seeming madness, one too vast and complex for one such as you to fully comprehend-"

"Try me!" Vandigera strode forward, eyes flashing with anger. "On second thought, do not try – I do not want to stand here for half an hour listening to a jabbered, muddled pretense of a medical procedure!"

The doctor laughed as he secured the latches on the container. "My dear poppet, you really must try to control that dreadful temper of yours. Besides, you have no cause to be angry – you are not the one being experimented on, now, are you?" He smiled broadly, the expression unnaturally distorting the corners of his mouth.

"Yet you have no care for those you do injure and abuse-"

"Nor do you, dear one. You simply observe my actions, even now as I send a patient to almost certain death. How could you possibly criticize me when you are doing the exact same thing?"

Vandigera stopped, mouth open in shock. Was it true? Did she truly show her support for his actions through her own lack of protest? It couldn't be!

"What you do is wrong, doctor! You devastate human beings-"

"Enough!" The doctor straightened his shriveled frame and looked the nurse straight in the eye. "You say you are against my practices, my constant experimentation on political prisoners. Show me then!"

A challenge, to stand up for what she knew to be right – to give up her career for her morals. Could she muster the courage? Or would she back down again, cowering at his feet in fear of losing her high-paying job?

He spoke again, enjoying Vandigera's confusion and bewilderment. "I know darling – it is hard. It is quite easy to say that what we do is wrong; in fact, it is impossible to pretend otherwise, but actually doing what you know to be right is a very different matter. Perhaps you begin to see that you might not be that different from me? Perhaps?"

Sweat formed on her face as she fumbled for words, fully at a loss of what to say or do. It was easy to say what she knew to be right – but it did not make any difference without corresponding action. Irritation grated up her spine as the doctor's smile widened, belittling her.

Suddenly she ran forward and shoved the doctor against the machine, causing him to lose his balance and topple into the open container. "You are a dirty, despicable rat! You ask me to make my decision, and I do so! Take that as my farewell, then, you-"

A beeping noise stopped her midsentence, turning her attention to the inactive machine. The beeping noise was not supposed to be on – that only sounded when the machine was…

"GET OUT!" Vandigera screamed, running to the container to open the door. But it was locked, a safety feature during chemical re-positioning cycles. Desperately, she logged onto the console, searching hopelessly for a cancel option, though she knew such a feature likely did not exist.

Screaming shook the machine, sending shivers down her spine. Dizzied, Vandigera took a step toward the container, steadying herself on the wall. What had she done in her fit of passion? She never foresaw such an event from a mere passionate shove. The room blurred and swayed as she sunk to the floor in a dead faint.

*****

She did not want to open her eyes or move. She wanted to lay on that floor motionless for the rest of eternity until she turned to dust. Most of all, she dreaded opening the container and looking inside at what she knew would be an awful, gut-wrenching sight.

A clicking noise started, bothering her ears. At first she ignored it, not caring for anything besides her wretched self. But she began to notice that it sounded – human. Someone was in the room, making the noise.

Opening her eyes, Vandigera scanned the familiar room, but saw no one. She knew it could only be coming from the container – which was exactly where what she wanted to stay away from. But she could not, despite all of her most fervent wishes. She had to get the grotesque task over with, as soon as she possibly could.

A trembling hand grasped the handle, her fingers numb and cold. Slowly, she raised her arm, looking with dread at the container. And then she screamed, shaking uncontrollably as her eyes focused on the doctor.

It was no corpse that met her eyes. There was a thing sitting quietly in the container – and it was smiling at her. A pale, evil looking creature it was too, with large ghost-white eyes that never blinked. In fact, it did not seem to move at all. But it was so obviously alive to her that it could have been bolting about the room.

Vandigera screamed again as a brief sign of recognition lit its face. It knew her. It knew she was the one who brought it to such a state. What form of revenge would such a creature take? She trembled violently as it clicked again, mouth motionless but still making noise.

It vanished swiftly, leaving the nurse clutching the machine for support. There were greater passions, greater longings wrapped up in the heart of the monster – longings that did have the time to take revenge on a former enemy. The two never met again, Vandigera dying several months later from a stroke.

No one ever saw the monster again, though scores of staff and patients met their death that day as it fled. Some say it ran to the forest, murdering anyone who entered. Others insisted the monster haunted the streets at night, the source of every unexplained death.  None seemed to fully answer the question.

And so, for a time, Dr. Vehimar faded from existence.