by Chad Beauchemin
August 23, 2011 will mark the five-year anniversary of my son’s death, but that date too will mark the day I bring him back to life.
People have said I’m crazy, and I would have to agree that it may look that way, but I’m not—not at all. Obsession towards a goal that is perceived to be impossible will always appear insane to the masses that just accept their reality. They’re bound by what seems rational and they will use this to argue their point. The astronomer and mathematician Simon Newcomb once wrote a mathematical proof, which stated that flight for crafts that are heavier than air is impossible. Little did he know that the day after he published his proof, the Wright Brothers would fly gloriously over his grounded, logical mind. Everything is improbable, and what seems impossible is only limited to how willing one is to believe this and how much effort one expends.
I stared out the window from my office and I could see half the city. All of the other buildings, cars and people were so far below me. It allowed me to take in so much. Every single person down there lived life absentmindedly because they were unaware of something so simple. It’s like a tragic comedy to me—life, that is. It’s so fragile, so easily taken away. Why do we exist in this depressing situation? We’re all tossed into such a vivid world of pleasure and pain. We learn to love and to hate, and we put things into perspective. If you ask me, this is how I’ve come to understand things. Life is good; death is bad. Everything else is superfluous. Death is a morbid, sobering slap. It shows us that no matter how intoxicated we become from our consciousness, we will inevitably lose this momentary ecstasy.
As I sat at my desk dwelling upon these morose predicaments, my wife Eveline knocked on the open doorway of my office.
“You okay?” she asked with a concerned smile. She was always there for me as I was there for her. She knew what was on my mind.
I looked into her eyes, smiled back and said, “I will be in twenty-four hours.”
Her smile, like sunshine, beamed as she walked over to me and sat on the edge of my desk. Even in her stark white lab coat, she was stunning. She was so happy as this day approached. Every day now she smiled like she was experiencing life for the first time. She looked overwhelmed. Her eyes, glossed as if at any moment tears could start falling from them, were large and expressive yet they hid her unadulterated genius. Her brilliance in genetics and biotechnology was perhaps only eclipsed by her loving kindness. I was lucky to have Eveline by my side. Her beautiful face was now a few feet from my own and I could see that she wanted to comfort me.
She stared at me and said, “You know, when you first told me that you were going to bring him back, a part of me thought you were in denial, as if you detached yourself from the reality of his death. But as you talked more about it I began to believe.” She paused and looked down for a moment possibly to tame potential tears, and looked back up. “I had faith in you and your ability to do this because I witnessed something in you. There was a passion in you that I’ve never seen in anyone else. And all I could think was, I need to do this. I need to support you in this and help you any way possible because, in the end, what else do I have to lose?”
I got up, went around my desk, and hugged her. I held her tight to comfort her. To reassure her through unspoken words that her confidence in me was, at times, all the fuel I needed to keep going. “I love you so much, and I promise you by tomorrow, Poe will be alive.” As I said this I pulled away slightly, held her face between my hands and kissed her softly.
Eveline sniffled a little, but composed herself and smiled. She was trying so hard not to cry. I felt she had made a quiet pact with herself a while ago. She had decided one day after our son died that she had shed enough tears for a lifetime. Even through her emotional struggle, her smile remained uplifting and bright. “You know you have a press conference in five minutes. We should really head down there if you want to make it on time.”
“I know. I’m not looking forward to it.”
She grinned and fixed my tie. “I thought I was the one who hated talking in front of people. You’ll do fine. You always do.”
I smiled at her encouragement and kissed her again, “It’s too bad you don’t want to talk. You know a hell of a lot about the science behind it. You always were so good at simplifying its complexity. You could explain to everyone how the chemical composition works in a way they could understand.” I smirked, “Maybe then their opinions would get drowned out by technical jargon. To be honest it’s not that I’m nervous. It’s just I don’t feel like arguing with fanatics and protesters.”
“Come on now, you have to respect their beliefs.”
I looked through the door as if what was beyond the threshold was something distasteful. I sighed and said, “Only if they respect mine.”
* * *
Upon entering the auditorium I could feel the tension mounting. It looked like there were hundreds of people in the room. Reporters, protesters, wealthy businessmen, polititians and religious leaders—every one of them was ready to pounce. Even though they were all invited to my company to hear about our radical leap in biology, they were also welcome to speak their minds as long as they weren’t disrespectful. I had already answered and addressed most of their inquiries and opinions. I knew that this final press conference before the event tomorrow was a last attempt by some to express their thoughts about what I was planning to do. I was ready for them. For five years I had been ready and no one, no one, was going to stop me, regardless of their ideology. It was going to happen and, on some level, they must have known as well. I smiled at the thought of their attempts to persuade me otherwise, which probably made me appear arrogant, and perhaps I was, but I didn’t care. I only had one thing on my mind.
Luckily, when I entered, the lights were already dimmed and Dr. James Adder, the vice president of my company was on the stage at the podium talking to the crowd. The photographers and cameramen were focused solely on him. They didn’t even notice me, which was nice. If they had noticed, they would have flocked around me. James saw me as I walked to the stage. He was improvising since I was running late. I could hear him talking about our company’s history. His words were irrelevant to tonight’s topic, but he spoke with such clarity and charisma that his spontaneous ramblings sounded like a well-rehearsed speech. I listened more intently to what he was saying:
“As some of you may know, we started out as a private company that invested in the research and production of anti-venom. As we grew we have broadened our reach by delving into genetic research and biotechnology. Who would have thought that our once small anti-venom company would end up leading the scientific community, eventually finding the cure for the most despicable poison that has plagued humankind since life began? I’m of course speaking of death.” I could see that James was beginning to get theatrical, which would only flare up the fanatics. He continued with increasing ignorant bravado. “Generations before us tried to prevent mortality’s potent venom to no avail. Where they failed, we are going to succeed. We have created the Fountain of Youth, the mythological ambrosia, the elixir of life. With the development of the Poriel Serum the inanimate become animate once again. Nature presented us with the unsolvable perplexity that is death, and we have solved it.”
I had to stop him. He was getting carried away. I walked out onto the stage, smiled at the audience, and gave James a subtle glare to show him that I did not approve. His boisterous rant was embarrassing. He was making us look like gods, which, needless to say, was not the image I wanted to project to our religious guests. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy James’ enthusiasm, but he sometimes goes too far. Too many people here might have taken his poetic analogies seriously. After becoming aware of my displeasure, he smoothly segued into announcing my arrival. I walked over to the podium as he said, “It is with great pleasure that I welcome to the stage my friend and president of Cobra Corporation, Dr. Adan Gardner.” James moved aside as I took my place at the podium. I looked at the crowd and most of them seemed surprisingly supportive, but I also noticed a few glares. I spoke pleasantly into the microphone:
“Hello everyone. All mystifying metaphors aside, why don’t we get to the facts? If you’ve been following our progress, you should know that after developing the Poriel Serum we began testing it on small animals that had died of natural causes. Our first test subjects were mice. After their death we froze their bodies and a couple of months later we unfroze them and injected the dead mice with the serum. After many trials and errors we slowly made headway and eventually we were able to consistently reanimate our test mice.
“As time progressed we worked our way up to larger and more complex animals. Our last test subjects were chimpanzees and we met the same success that we did with all the previous subjects. The animals are alive and even seem to remember everything learned in life before death, or what we call ‘pre-death.’ This was verified from the chimpanzees that had learned sign language. Upon testing them after death—or what we refer to as ‘post-death’—they still passed all the sign language exams. These findings along with the results from the MRI, EEG and CAT scans are promising because they prove that the animals’ brains are still fully functional. These results make us hopeful about the possibility of human reanimation. Tomorrow, as all of you know, will be the day we try to reanimate the first human test subject, my eleven year old son, Poriel Gardner. Poriel’s death was the inspiration for this project and the serum’s name.”
Having given them the facts, I paused. “Are there any questions at this point?”
A sea of hands went up. With so many inquiries I figured I would start with the questioners who looked the hungriest for answers. I could relate to those people. A man in the second row seemed to show a sincere fervor to know the truth, I pointed to him. Looking very pleased and honestly intrigued he stood up and said, “Jeff Bailey, New York Times. You claim the serum brings the dead back to life. In what condition do the dead have to be in in order for the serum to be successful? Also, after taking it, are the life-forms immortal?”
It was a two-part question, but it wasn’t too challenging. There was no judgment in his voice. Maybe this conference was going to go smoothly. I responded cordially, “To answer your first question, the organism, whatever it may be, can’t be too decayed. What is too decayed? Well obviously it can’t be deteriorating. After the heart stops, muscle cells can live for several hours and skin and bone cells can stay alive for days. The sooner the serum is injected, the higher its success rate since there are fewer cells to be restored. Obviously, it is preferable to freeze the organism after death, which is precisely what I did with my son.” I paused for a moment realizing how morbid that sounded. But I knew I had to freeze him. I knew I had to preserve his body if I was going to bring him back to life. “Also, the body can’t be too damaged, have gaping wounds, or destroyed organs. The organism can survive if death is caused by a cerebrovascular accident, myocardial infarction or asphyxiation. A person who drowned is eligible as long as the fluid is pumped out the lungs.”
I stopped here. Not for dramatic effect but because I literally couldn’t speak. I shuddered at the memory of finding my son’s lifeless body floating in the ocean. It has been a very long time since I’ve even allowed myself to think of that day. Since Poe’s death I had always looked forward rather than backward because that memory in the past was too painful for me to focus on and accept. I should have never trusted the lifeguards to do their jobs. With so many people in the water how are they supposed to pay attention to everyone? I was only gone for five minutes to get some lemonade for Poe and me, and in those five minutes he died. Why?
The day he died, I was sent to the edge of a void. I felt myself about to fall into despair, a mourning so deep that I didn’t know if I could continue to live with that reality. But as I stood near the brink of this, I asked myself a few questions. What if we did not have to accept death? What if I could bring my son back to life? And finally, the one that truly fueled my passion: Is it possible that what is conceivable is also achievable? Just because everyone believes that once you die you don’t return does not mean that this is the truth. In that moment between two paths, I could choose a crushing misery or an uplifting ideal. For me it was obvious. The ideal was all that mattered and with it I was empowered. I shed no tears. I felt no pain. My hope ignited me and I was impervious to death’s morose touch. I wanted to bring life back to Poe and I was going to succeed.
The future was bright and it was the only thing I could think about. There were times that I wondered if this crusade against death wasn’t as idealistic as I had made it out to be in my head. Maybe I just felt responsible. I should have been watching more carefully. Maybe I was just being selfish. But then I wondered if any of that really mattered. Regardless of my motives, I would have my son back and that felt good to me.
I paused. I hadn’t said anything in a while. I swallowed hard and moved to the next part of his question.
“Um, to answer your second question, I’m going to have to say I don’t know at this point if it makes the organism immortal. You see, it needs to be injected at specific intervals. A large organism needs a greater quantity of the serum, and more frequently, than a small organism. A chimpanzee needs about sixty milliliters to live for eighteen hours. We’re figuring about the same for a human, which was derived from the serum to body mass ratio figured from past animal subjects. After fifteen hours the serum starts to wear off and subjects become feverish. Another two to three hours, the organs begin to shut down and the organism dies. If the serum is continually injected then it appears that the organism can keep on living. The mice subjects have lived one year so far post-death provided the injections are continually administered. But it is unknown whether the serum will continue to work after an extended period of time, let alone eternally.
“Next question?” I asked and pointed to a person to my left who was a number of rows back. I chose him because he seemed the most adamant about having his question answered, but I failed to realize that he looked displeased.
“I’m sorry for your loss Dr. Gardner,” he said as if it were an aside. His statement lacked sincerity because he was too focused on what he wanted to say. He continued briskly, “But don’t you think what you’re doing is an abomination against nature?”
I stared at him for a while before I spoke. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t afraid of this question nor was I afraid of him. I continued to stare into him until he broke eye contact. At this point I broadened my gaze and addressed my statement to the audience as a whole.
“Recently, I’ve heard a lot of people praise me while others condemn me for what I am attempting to do. People tell me, ‘Death is natural. Didn’t you ever think that what you’re doing is against what was intended for us?’ Individuals die every day, and people assume that, because death is natural, they should accept it. But I have the intelligence, fortitude, and resources to stop death. If I can do this, isn’t that natural as well? I’m not using some dark sorcery or magic to achieve this. I am using science. I, like everyone else, am confined to what is physically possible. What is natural is simply what is possible. Therefore, how is what I’m doing unnatural if what I’m doing is still within the parameters of natural laws?”
I stared down at my questioner intensely and he seemed to be at a loss for words. Still staring at him I said, “Did you ever consider that maybe Nature presented this problem of life and death as a challenge as if to say, ‘Let’s see if you can solve it.’”
At this point a fanatic from the crowd in my peripheral vision yelled out, “Don’t listen to this lunatic’s twisted logic!” I shook my head and looked back to James. I had gone into this not wanting to argue because my mind was resolved in what I was about to do. I wasn’t going to stand there and listen to insults.
I sighed smiling and said, “Listen. You all know how I feel and what I am going to do. You can criticize me if you want but I’m already set in my decision.” I turned to James, and said, “You can take over.” Looking back to my audience I said one last thing, “If anyone else has some scientific questions you can ask Dr. Adder here or any one of my colleagues. Thank you all for coming.” I calmly walked off the stage. I wasn’t angry, but I was fed up. I’d been dealing with unreasonable people for years now and I felt that the best thing to do was just walk away.
* * *
It was tough going to sleep with so much on my mind, so much anticipation. When I finally fell asleep my dreams were violent and strange with a mishmash of color and light. But eventually my dream crystallized into something more solid and real, and I could see that I was standing somewhere outside. It was strange. The sky was vividly clear and the ground was translucent. I could see something glorious, bright and pure above me, and something pitiful, dim and despairing below me. Somewhere in the middle of all of this was a beautiful garden. The lush vegetation sparkled with dew and the flowers were so vibrant that it appeared as if the petals couldn’t contain their saturated color. The color spilled out, giving off a glow that radiated throughout, even in the face of the sky’s shining light.
In the center of the garden was a majestic tree that had to have been millennia old. The tree must have been wider than the largest sequoias on Earth. It had the appearance of an oak tree but it was significantly grander. The tips of the branches reached so high that they seemed to gracefully brush up against the fantastic, boundless cosmos, but the roots were entrenched so low that they seemed capable of gouging out the bowels of Earth’s darkest caverns. But the most magnificent quality of the tree was not that it was between something beautiful and something horrid—it was its leaves. Each individual leaf was in an ever-changing flux of color. As they morphed from one color to the next, they did so in synchronized alteration. Like a living animated rainbow, the tree’s leaves had stripes of different colors that moved in waves from stem to tip.
At the base of its trunk sat a boy who, upon my spotting him, stood up. I did not recognize him at first, but as I walked towards him his features became somewhat familiar to me. As I approached him he smiled and, as he did, his skin glowed a golden hue that reminded me of the light of a sunset. It was now harder for me to distinguish his features. I moved closer to him until we were face to face. I did not know how to react. As I stood there the glow from his face faded and my body reacted before my mind could catch up. I crouched down and embraced him. I could feel his warmth and his heart.
“Hi Dad,” was all he said. My son. He was real. He was with me. I was overjoyed and I laughed. I laughed a good, healthy laugh not from anything in particular, but because I was so happy. I hadn’t felt happiness like this for far too long. I hadn’t laughed like this either. I didn’t allow it. I didn’t deserve it.
“I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much,” I said still holding him close.
“I’ve missed you, too. Please don’t blame yourself, Dad.”
“How can I not? You’re dead. I should have never left your side at the beach. If I had been watching, I would have never taken my eyes off of you. I would have seen you were in trouble and I would have saved you.”
Poe pulled away at this statement, looked at me with his caring eyes and said, “I know you would have saved me dad because I know you love me, and I love you. It’s not your fault that I died. It was meant to happen. The things we face in life, and in death, are all for a reason.”
The original joy of my face had slightly faded as I pondered this statement that is so often thought of as cliché, but I was still happy to be in his presence. What he had said made sense to me for some reason. I felt it was easier to accept this as a truth in the state I was in. My face went solemn for a moment and I said, “I miss you and love you so much. I want you always to be around.”
“But Dad, I am always around. Just because I’m not there physically doesn’t mean I’m not there at all.”
“How so?”
“I’m always there with you in your memory. Or whenever you laugh with Mom or whenever you help a friend or feel the sun’s warm rays hit you on a cool day. Or whenever you love a moment in life and you truly appreciate what it means to be alive, I’m there, and with you in spirit. Just realize that you’re never without me.” He grinned and his smile was just as brilliant as Eveline’s. I couldn’t help but smile back. I hugged him again and then he said, “This is what life is all about Dad. Life is about living and learning and being happy and making others happy.”
As we let go of each other I said with a slight bitterness, “That’s why death is so horrible.”
Poe stared at me intently and then said, “Death has to happen. There is a reason for it, like everything else. Sometimes it’s just hard to realize.”
I looked at him curiously and the image of him began to fade as a loud repetitive noise pierced my subconscious. Bzt Bzt Bzt went my alarm clock and I lay there pondering the dream I had as the sound continued. It was very strange and very emotional. Reality eventually set in and I knew what I was going to do. Today was the day I was going to bring my son back to life.
* * *
I stood in front of my son’s corpse. He was unfrozen and his appearance was slightly purple. He wasn’t at all reminiscent of the person I saw in my dream. His lips were cracked and dry and his skin was the texture of leather. His eyes were shut and his face wore a neutral expression. He lacked any form of expression since all the muscles were obviously relaxed after he died, but oddly enough he seemed peaceful, as if the last thoughts were tranquil. His dark black hair, which resembled my own, was awry and stiff and for that matter his whole body seemed rigid and inflexible. He reminded me, for some reason, of a young Egyptian pharaoh who was about to be put through some ritual to help his soul pass into death. Of course in this case, it seemed I was doing the opposite.
Eveline stood anxiously beside me. We had been waiting for this day for five years now. A camera crew accompanied us to document the event. James and fifteen other colleagues, were also there to help with the preparation. In a matter of minutes the Poriel Serum would be prepped, ready for injection, and my son’s eyes would open again like they once did. I turned away from his body nervously and closed my eyes. Am I doing the right thing? Then as if she had read my mind, Eveline softly touched my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, it’s going to work. Have faith in yourself. I know I do.” Then she smiled and some of my tension went away.
She didn’t understand. The dream I had. I needed to tell her. I needed to get this burden off my chest.
“Honey, can I talk to you privately?” I asked her. She nodded apprehensively in response. I grabbed her hand and headed towards the exit, but James stopped me before I left.
“Hey, you know we’ll be ready to go in a couple of minutes, right?” I nodded and he continued, “Okay, well don’t be gone for too long.”
We left the room and immediately Eveline asked, “What’s wrong?”
I turned to her and considered for a moment how to bring the dream up without sounding foolish. I decided I would just be blunt. “Last night I dreamt of Poe.” Her eyes widened upon hearing his name. “The dream was very strange. It seemed very real. More real in some ways than life. I mean in terms of my feelings. Poe was alive and I felt it.”
At this she smiled, laughed a little, and said, “Maybe it’s a sign of things to come.”
I smiled back to her, but only briefly because for some reason I felt anxious. “The dream felt very, I don’t know, I guess spiritual. And Poe told me that death was natural and it had its purpose. In the dream I felt that he had made sense.” I looked down for a minute because on some level I felt ashamed to admit this. I felt it went against what I was so driven to accomplish these past five years. I continued, “I know people have told me this before, but it seemed to make more sense while dreaming. Poe said it was something that I was just going to have to accept. But then I woke up and I thought to myself, ‘No, death doesn’t make sense, and if I can bring him back then I should do it. I’ve spent all this time trying to make this happen and now I’m so close. I guess I just, I feel like even though I’m about to bring him back, for some reason I—I have mixed feelings on whether this is right.”
Eveline looked at me with concerned eyes, but then smiled confidently, “Adan, it’s just a dream. It’s just your subconscious struggling with the stress of the controversy. It’s your self-doubt. You have to believe in what you have accomplished, what you’ve achieved thus far. All the test subjects have been brought back to life.” She reached out and touched my face as she took a step closer. She lifted my head so that my gaze met hers. Eyes that could cry at any moment, but did not, showed me her faith in this project and reminded me of my purpose. “Adan, you can’t give up on your goal now. Not after we’re so close to bringing him back. I’m here for you and we’re going to do this together.”
She was right. My wife had been alongside me ever since I worked towards this goal. She was a brilliant scientist too, easily the best in my company. Eveline had worked so hard with me to help make this once considered impossibility a true possibility. A part of me still felt uneasy, but my confidence now outweighed my anxiousness. I hugged her tightly and kissed her, and she smiled that dazzling smile of hers.
We walked back into the laboratory and James gave me the syringe containing the Poriel Serum saying, “Ready when you are Captain.” I looked to Eveline, and we both walked over to our son’s body. He lay lacking any life, absent of what some would call a spirit, but within my hand I held the product that reanimated the inanimate. I know it may sound overly poetic, but it was like a sublime power that I held within my hands. I thought about this for a moment and realized how I sounded just like James in my own head. I smiled at him and he winked back.
I looked to my wife and she understood. We decided a long time ago that when we gave our son the serum we were going to administer it together. Standing next to me, she positioned her hand around the syringe and my hand. At this point we looked at each other and shared a quiet moment in each other’s eyes. All was silent. No one even seemed to breathe. Then we looked down at Poe, stuck the needle into his chest, and administered him the serum.
It only takes a couple of seconds to take effect but each second felt like an eternity. It didn’t seem to be working quickly enough. The serum is supposed to work rapidly by restoring life to everything it comes in contact with. Injecting it directly into the heart is purposeful because after doing so the heart begins pumping, and with each pump the serum spreads throughout the rest of the body, restoring life. The heart usually begins working almost instantly but Poe’s was not.
Ten seconds passed. Each second that passed was a second his heart was not beating. I felt sick. I felt as if I couldn’t inhale enough. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the room for my lungs to take in and I began breathing more deeply. I looked to my wife and she still seemed hopeful. She cast a smile. What if this fails? No, I couldn’t think that way.
Twenty seconds passed. My wife showed signs of the mental fatigue. She wasn’t smiling now. She was only staring at his body. She grabbed my hand and her hand was clammy. I looked down and saw that her knuckles protruded beneath her skin. She held my hand so tightly. Her whole body was tense. Her jaw was clenched and she did not blink. I couldn’t believe how she could bear the stillness. I wanted something to happen. Anything. The only sound was a muffled ringing in my ears and the quick pounding beat of my own heart. It was as if my racing heart was trying to encourage a pace in my son’s, just by accelerating itself.
Thirty seconds. Nothing. I felt my legs shaking.
Beep went the cardiograph and my wife leaned forward while gasping. I froze in shock. Had we only imagined the noise out of our desperation? After thirty-two seconds did that really happen?
Beep … Beep …
This was it. It worked. It finally happened. My son, after five years without a heartbeat, now had one because of me. A once lifeless heart was beating life back into his body. He would soon be here with me again.
I smiled and looking to James for the first time since we injected the serum, I saw his mood reflected mine. Grinning from ear to ear, he said the first words since we started, “This is looking good Adan. This is looking really good. His vitals are stabilizing.”
I looked back down to my son and slowly his color shifted from purple to pink with life. His cheeks were rosy and he was breathing now. I can’t really describe what it felt like to watch his chest rise and drop. Even knowing the science behind it didn’t subtract from the magic of it all. If miracles were real, then I was witnessing one. My wife laughed out of excitement, and I was silent and astonished with my mouth slightly open.
Then Poe’s eyes opened.
I knew immediately that something was wrong. They seemed to be functioning, but something in them was missing. I felt immediately numb, as if I was watching everything but not really experiencing it. Everyone was celebrating around me enthusiastically, though, which only highlighted my lack of a reaction. Even my wife, who kissed me the moment Poe opened his eyes, failed to see what was troubling me. If she but looked into his eyes a moment longer, or perhaps if she had seen them the night before in a dream, she would have realized that something was amiss.
Poe awoke, and my colleagues were running over to ask him questions. James, ever the adamant one, asked the first question. “Do you remember who you are?”
Poe answered without a smile, “Yes, I remember, I’m Poriel Gardner.”
Pointing to my wife and me, he asked, “Do you recognize this man and this woman?”
Poe answered again with the same monotone drone. “Yes, he is my father and she is my mother.”
It was at this point that I felt my wife beginning to understand the horror of this whole situation. I could see that all joy escaped her face. Poe answered each question James asked, but every answer lacked something human. He wasn’t happy. He wasn’t sad. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t loving. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t hateful. He was none of these, and though he sat in front of me alive and talking he was no more alive than a computer spitting out data. When I asked him, “How do you feel?” he answered like an automaton:
“I feel nothing.”
Although he was fully functional as a human being, there was something wrong psychologically. My team of colleagues believed that it might have been caused by some slight brain tissue damage, only apparent in highly cognitive organisms, which is why this trait was not apparent in the animal specimens. If this were the case, then it seemed that the serum had its limits. In all of its miraculous abilities to bring life back to the dead, it failed to restore some small part of the cerebrum that held some unique quality. In truth, my team didn’t truly know—they were only hypothesizing. Although conscious in the manner that the subject could recall memories and describe objects it observed, there was nothing behind it. No emotion whatsoever.
Some people considered the experiment a success, because, technically speaking, Poe was alive. But those were people who weren’t there to see for themselves. I experienced it, though, and I knew that it was not my son. The son in my dream was more real.
As the next day approached the serum began to wear off. Poe’s body shut down. I stayed with it the whole time because I felt it was the right thing to do. I asked Poe’s body if its life mattered and it questioned with apathy, “What life?” I looked away from it after this statement. I was emotionless as I stared at the floor, not because my son didn’t value life, but because it wasn’t my son who lay on the table in front of me. After a while I grew slightly bitter because of how ignorant I was to think I could bring him back. I brought life back to a body, but it was a life without the capacity for happiness or love of life, which to me was hardly a life at all. He eventually died, but it was not like a normal death. It was more like a toy whose batteries lost their charge.
* * *
I stood by the freshly dug grave as the coffin was lowered into the earth. Dr. Adder as well as the other scientists from Cobra Corporation suggested that I continue the project since we were so close, but it was different for me now. They didn’t understand why, after all this time I invested, I would want to stop. They didn’t realize how eerily disturbing it was for my wife and me to see our son as if he were some flesh-suited robot. We decided that we would not make the same choice again. This project of bringing the dead back to life could continue onward with some other company but we didn’t want to see something like that ever again.
At my son’s funeral I did not know how to feel. My wife stood a few feet away from me and her face was solemn. For so many years she thought I would come through, but now it appeared we were accepting his death, and I could tell she wasn’t sure how to feel either. I didn’t know how to comfort her.
I looked at the coffin and then I closed my eyes. Quietly to myself, I thought about Poe and allowed myself to look back into the past. I remembered his death and I felt the pain of that memory stab at my heart and I did not resist it. And then I allowed myself to look further back and I remembered all of the good times I had with Poe and Eveline together as a family. And with that a rush of something overwhelming hit me. I opened my eyes and tears blurred my view. I was crying for the first time since my son died, and in that instant I wasn’t trying to protect myself from the despair of death, or fix a problem Nature presented, or attempt to hold back my guilt. I was just a man lamenting—a man who was accepting that some things inevitably end. My sorrow was pure and unfiltered. And as warm tears streamed down my face, I walked over to my wife. I looked down at the ground and then mustered enough courage to look into her eyes. I saw that she was shocked to see me this way.
“I’m sorry,” was all I said. It was all I was able to say through my sobbing. With that, her eyes began to instantly water and she began to cry too. We hugged in an attempt to comfort each other. And while we embraced, for a moment, only for a moment, I felt I knew what Poriel meant.
