Resurgence

THE PROCEDURE

From Conrad Hayley’s Diary-

October 27, 2015

I entered the metallic room as I came into this world—stark naked. Soon I was lying inside the orange-colored, eight-by-four foot painted rectangle on the floor. The sound of a heavy metallic door being bolted from outside startled me. There was no going back now. The room was pitch black and I shut my eyes.There was no point in staring in the dark. After a minute or so, I felt cycles of hot and cold air on my skin, which was as relaxing asa good massage. Just when I was about to doze off, I heard music—Rock ‘n’ Roll from the sixties. Now I knew why the boys wanted to know what music I liked.

I felt it on my skin first. It was as if I was being kissed by a thousand lips simultaneously; feather touches all over my body. It surely was unlike any sensation I had felt in my life, and the toughest part was to stay still. Years from now, when I undergo this therapy again, I will think of this sensation. I could get used to this feeling of pure bliss, I thought.

The next minute my pleasure turned into pain. I felt it in my muscles—a million sharp contractions followed by sudden expansions. My whole body twitched; even my tongue. It was hard not to choke on my own saliva. I was ready to run out of the room at this point, but my body did not obey my will, and I couldn’t move an inch.

I hated those nerdy boys. I swore that I would kill them if I made it out alive. Taking each breath was a struggle, but my seventy-three-year-old body kept fighting. Slowly, the pain faded away. I felt cold and wished for a blanket—the chilling air seemed to touch my soul. All my muscles went numb, and I could feel something crawling on my bones. I thought I was going to die. To breathe became incredibly hard, but somehow air managed to find my lungs. I swear that every breath seemed to be my last. Christ must have experienced a similar pain on the cross, I thought. It gave me strength, but a little bit of guilt as well.

After the longest eighteen minutes of my life, I opened my eyes to see the room lit with dim, blue light. For a moment I thought I was dead and afterlife was blue, but I realized the light was coming from a small bulb on the wall to my right. Soon I heard the unbolting of the metallic door, and daylight filled the room through a small crack. The boys had told me that I would be able to walk out of the room, but I hardly had any strength to crawl out of that torture chamber.

As I crawled out of the metallic room on my knees, the boys were ecstatic. The experiment was a success, and I changed my mind about killing those nerds.

CHAPTER ONE

SIX MONTHS AGO

June 5, 2015

Gordon Price could not remember the last time his desk looked so empty—only two things sat on it today. An old pen stand that his wife had gifted him when they were in college, and a turtle-shaped paperweight that he had bought during his last trip to Hawaii. He wondered if the wood had changed color, or if it was a different season than summer when he last saw the desk this bare.

Earlier that morning, the rattling sound of the lawn mower had made his hangover almost unbearable, and he had shut all the windows in his office to keep out the noise. Now, as he was about to open the window behind his desk, he smiled at his own reflection in the window glass: A clean-shaven, middle-aged man with jet-black hair nicely combed to the side. He was wearing a rusty-green shirt with beige slacks, and looked smart enough for his investment banker profession. Outside his office, beyond the parking lot, the traffic looked mellow for a Friday afternoon, and he had no business to take care of, except one.

Knock on the door.

Come in.

Mister Price, said his secretary. I’m here to remind you that you have a meeting in half an hour with Stuart and Nick. You also need to get some wine before you go home, and I picked up a card as you requested.

She placed the card on the desk.

Thank you Meredith.

Can I help you with anything else?

No, I think that’s all I need. Thank you, see you in three weeks.

Have a great vacation.

You, too.

Gordon Price drove his three-year-old, dark-blue, four-door sedan at a brisk pace of seventy on the highway. The car’s A/C had stopped working a week ago and he had procrastinated getting it fixed. Within minutes of leaving his office, he felt lightheaded and dehydrated. The thought of having a beer calmed his nerves a little, but he resisted the idea of grabbing a cold one as he wishfully glanced at the six pack of pale Ale and a bottle of Chardonnay sitting in the passenger seat. I don’t need any air conditioning, it’s still spring, he said to amuse himself as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

Soon, to distract himself from the heat, he turned on the radio:

"Public spending has gone down drastically. People are holding on to what they have because they aren’t confident about the government’s grand recovery plan. The true perpetrators of the crime are roaming free. The big banks have been bailed out, and it’s the real people with real jobs who are suffering the most. All because a bunch of Wall Street crooks speculated with the hard-earned money of American people. We need to take back our power from the government. It’s become too corrupt and too powerful. We need to act and act now."

Thank you, Dan, for your views, now let’s hear what Shaun has to say

I sympathize with all the people who are finding it hard to make ends meet in this meltdown, but let me say that we are all in this together, and the hard times shall soon pass. I have full faith in our justice system and the government, and I know for a fact that there are ongoing federal investigations looking into the alleged role of banks and bankers in the meltdown. These things take time, you can’t expect it to be over this week and execute the guilty next week. The one thing about liberal viewpoint that irks me the most is that they blame everything on the government, and portray the government as a shady agency that is out to rip off the American people. The government has done everything in its power to protect the American people and will keep doing so.

Gordon turned the radio off as he neared his destination. An image of his brilliant eighteen-year-old nephew, Stuart Lincoln, flashed in his mind, and he felt a sense of pride in his chest. Nearly three years ago, Gordon’s sister, Linda, had been devastated by the untimely death of her husband, Stuart’s father. While she struggled to cope with life in rehab programs after plunging into the darkness of drug abuse, Gordon took care of her only son.

Adversity brings out the best in only the best of men, and it did so in Stuart’s case. Gordon soon found out that his nephew was gifted. The boy excelled in academics and spent most of his time following latest scientific advances. During his free time, Stuart learned to cook from Gordon’s wife, Bella, and within a few months was making gourmet dinners for the family. A month before his seventeenth birthday, Stuart achieved financial independence by inventing and patenting a bolt that he named Lincoln’s bolt. It was easy to manufacture, forty percent lighter than similar bolts, and went on to replace most bolts used in commercial aircrafts. For every Lincoln’s bolt that was manufactured by any company, Stuart received two cents. It made him fifteen million dollars before he turned eighteen.

Although Stuart was a brilliant kid, he probably would not have made a penny from the bolt design if it was not for his best friend, Nick Peterson. Nick had an innate knowledge of working of machinery and had helped Stuart figure out a way to make the complex design simple enough to manufacture.

Over the years, Stuart and Nick had become an integral part of Gordon’s family. Almost every Sunday night they had dinner together and watched football and drank and shared stories after. Gordon’s wife, Bella, loved to host because she got a break from cooking as Stuart always made an elaborate dinner. Usually by the end of the night, Gordon, after consuming generous amount of alcohol, told stories about his father’s bravery in the Vietnam war. The kids loved it, but Bella hated it and often told Gordon in private that he was corrupting the kid’s souls with war. In his defense, Gordon would smile and say, Honey, I’m just setting their souls free with the truth. It’s a cruel world out there.

Gordon reached his destination, got out of the car, and walked across the park to a bench where the boys were waiting for him. Last year Stuart had moved out of Gordon’s house into his own place. Ever since then this park had often served as their meeting spot. Nick waved and Stuart smiled as he got closer to them. On seeing Stuart, Gordon felt a sense of fatherly joy. Stuart stood a little under six feet and, at most times, his face resembled that of a serious-looking poker player. A square jaw along with a well-defined nose completed his stubborn look.

Hey, Uncle Gordon. How’ve you been? Stuart said as he threw his arms wide open and hugged him.

Good, I’m good, Gordon said as he moved from hugging Stuart to Nick. What you two been up to?

Nothing much, said Nick.Just been trying to figure out how to go about with our little experiment.

Yes, the experiment, said Gordon as he thought about what the boys had shown him last week; the mere thought of it gave him chicken skin. I’ve been racking my brain about it too, did some research, and have an idea about what you should do, but first tell me what you two have in mind.

We’re going to do more testing, said Nick. Experiment on about a dozen mice and watch for any side effects. That’ll take about four monthsAfter that, we’ll put together a research paper and get it published. Once the word gets out, getting funding for human trials should be easy.

Why do you need to keep studying it more? asked Gordon. The mouse you showed me last week looked just fine to me.

Come on, Uncle Gordon, you know better than that, said Stuart. We can’t afford to move on to human trial before making sure it’s safe enough. Just so we don’t accidentally kill somebody.

I know, I was just razzing you two, said Gordon with a smile. It’s a very noble idea, boys, publishing a paper and telling the world about your invention. Hell, you might even get the Nobel Prize for it. But listen to me carefully, you have found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Beware of pirates, you won’t see them coming.

I like the idea of being a Nobel laureate, but not of being hunted down by pirates, said Nick. What do you mean?

Who is going to fund you? asked Gordon. Probably a pharmaceutical company or a major corporation. The hundreds of regulations on human testing is going to take you about ten to fifteen years before you guys can get all the clearances and put the machine out in the market. By that time, you’ll owe the pharmaceutical company about a billion dollars, and they’ll have you by the balls, and you’ll end up working for the same company in the Research and Development department. You’ll be lucky to see any money from this invention if you aren’t street smart about it.

What do you suggest instead? asked Nick.

What’s the budget for a human trial? asked Gordon.

Three million at the most, answered Stuart.

When will the machine be ready? asked Gordon

You are the engineer Nick, said Stuart. What do think? Three months?

Yeah, said Nick as he nodded in agreement. We can build it in three months.

I suggest you use your own money, Stuart, said Gordon. You have enough in the bank from the bolt copyright. That way, you have the freedom to work for yourself, and you don’t have to answer to nobody.

I’ll have to think about it, said Stuart.

Either way you decide to go, said Gordon, I have someone in mind who might be willing to volunteer for the trial.

Who? asked Nick.

Conrad Hayley. He served in the war with my father and now runs a grocery store in the suburbs. I know him—he’s a tough nut and he’ll be ready in a heartbeat.

Before we jump to human trial, said Nick. We need to make sure that if experiment goes wrong it doesn’t kill someone.

If you publish the paper, said Gordon. Everybody will be worrying about the same thing, and before you know, the government will ban human trials —it’s done it with cloning.

Even if we do it secretly, using our own money, said Stuart. The problem still remains. What if your buddy, Conrad Hayley, dies due to the experiment?

We’ll all end up in prison, said Nick.

It has to be a secret then, said Gordon. If Conrad dies, nobody should find out.

Why would he volunteer knowing that he could die? asked Stuart.

He’s a brave man, said Gordon. Once he knows what he’ll be gambling for, he’ll happily take the risk. Hell, I’d take the risk if it wasn’t for my family.

Freedom, it’s freedom that’s at stake, said Nick. I would volunteer in a heartbeat if I was old enough. What do you say, Stuart? I never liked the idea of knocking on the government’s door for money anyway. I’ll rather do it independently. Having said that, it’s your money, so your decision.

I am still thinking about it, said Stuart.

Let me tell you something I read last week, said Gordon. A recent survey found that every time Americans think about freedom, half the people think of George Washington. You two are going to make the people free all over. You have the chance to give them a new kind of life that’s free from all disease and sickness. In the process, we’ll set up a company and sell people life, and people will pay any price we want. Your names will be etched on the pages of history. Every time people think about freedom they will think about you two.

I don’t care about history, said Stuart. I do care about time and certainly don’t want to wait for years before we can get wheels on this thing. So, I say let’s get the ball rolling and we’ll do it our way.

It’s settled then, said Gordon cheerfully. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and take Bella out for our anniversary dinner, and I don’t want to be a minute late or she’ll bite my head off. I’ll see you both on Sunday.

Gordon turned and walked away.

CHAPTER TWO

9 MONTHS LATER

March 9, 2016

About twenty reporters half-filled the small press conference room. A stocky bald man, wearing a light-blue shirt with PBS printed in large red font on the back, was setting up a video recorder to the left of the stage. PBS was the only television news network covering the event and the rest of the reporters represented newspapers.

Stuart, standing in the corner of the raised stage, mentally went over the list of things that could go wrong. He felt the urge to use the men's room even though he had done so about half a dozen times in the last hour. Gordon sat in the last row of chairs and observed everything like a hawk. He had arranged this press conference by leaking the story through a journalist friend with the hope that at least fifty reporters would show up but, as the clock neared two, he realized it was going to be a low-key affair. He discreetly took a sip of rum from his hip flask and put it away in his trouser pocket before anyone could see it.

Even though Nick was dressed casually in a plain-white shirt, blue denims, and faded-green loafers, his dark-brown eyes and thick black hair slicked back gave him an aura of intensity. With an effortless smile and casually engaging in small talk, he made sure that all the reporters were in the right seat; the important one’s in the first row.

At the stroke of two, Nick addressed the reporters, Good afternoon, folks! This is not the president’s press conference. He’s not standing backstage waiting to pop out and dazzle you all.

A light wave of laughter went across the room.

Ladies and gentlemen, said Nick. There are moments in history that are of significant importance to our human race, moments that get etched in minds of generations to come, moments that are fondly talked across the world. Today, you are about to witness such a moment. We, humans as a species, are about to move into a new realm. Life as we know it, is about to change, and you all will be the first witnesses to this transformation. I welcome you all, and thank you for being with us.

A few reporters exchanged smiles while some took notes in shorthand. Alex Harding, the senior correspondent from The Chronicle, shot the first question at Nick, We are all here ‘cause we hear that you boys had a major scientific breakthrough. I heard someone say that Einstein would be proud of you two. So, please tell us, how are you going to change the world?

A ripple of laughter went across the room.

Very well, let's get started then. We have a short research documentary we want to show y’all, said Nick. Within a couple of minutes, he and Stuart converted the conference room into a dark room and a projector played a movie on the stage’s white background wall.

In the first scene, Nick and Stuart introduced themselves to the audience as they stood in front of Hayley’s departmental store in what appeared to be a regular American suburban town.

In the next scene, Nick and Stuart were inside the store.

Everybody meet Conrad Hayley, said Nick as the camera focused on an old, bald man with thick glasses and a big smile on his face. Mister Hayley is seventy-three, a Vietnam War veteran, and has been living in Newport for the last forty years. He has volunteered to be a part of this scientific experiment. Today’s date is October 27, 2015, and we are going to change Mister Hayley's life. Conrad Hayley, are you ready? said Nick in a theatrical tone.

The camera zoomed on Hayley's face as he said, Was born ready, boys.

The movie jumped to the next scene. Hayley, standing with only a towel wrapped around his waist, seemed in deep thought while he stared away from the camera. He resembled a loony let loose from an asylum.

It's time Mr. Hayley, said Stuart. Lose the towel. Enter the experiment room, and please don't die on us for about twenty minutes, and you'll be fine.

Hayley closed his eyes as if to say a prayer, then shrugged as if he couldn’t bring himself to pray at that moment; he threw the towel on the ground and entered the cubic metallic room.

Nick closed the door behind him.

The Screen read - TWENTY MINUTES LATER

Nick unbolted the door and cracked it open a little; cold air came busting out of the opening. The boys stood still in front of the metallic door, fearing the worst.

I can hear the alarm loud and clear, said Stuart in almost a whisper, as if thinking out loud.

Did you tell him to come out of the room on hearing the alarm? asked Nick.

"I explained everything to the old man thrice," replied Stuart.

"Maybe he can’t hear as good