Rejected Sci Fi for January 2014

FRANKENSTEIN REVISITED

Jack Bragen

I brought my date to the lab--she was an adulating, twenty-seven-year-old postgraduate.  I thought it would impress her if I showed off the scientific work I was doing and pointed out that I supervised five subordinate scientists.  I wasn't supposed to be showing this stuff to anyone--I was violating corporation policy in which I was supposed to be guarding trade secrets. 

Anna looked around interestedly when I showed her a room where some of the specimens were kept. 

"These are frogs that have been repaired while deceased and brought back to the pseudo living state that I was talking about."  I pointed to a tank that had in it hyperactive frogs that showed odd signs of decay. 

"Nice."  Anna put her hand on my back.

My cellphone produced an emergency beep.  I answered it:  "Yes, this is Williams, it had better be important." 

Mr. Jarold, who had been put on the night shift, was on the line.  "We have an emergency in zone three.  I need you here right away."

Highly inconvenient.  But I couldn't ignore the emergency call. 

I looked at Anna and couldn't help admiring her prettiness. "Can you wait here?  This will only take a few minutes." 

I would be leaving someone unwatched in the middle of a lab which was conducting secret experiments that could be worth literally billions of dollars.  However, I couldn't bring her on the emergency and have her see dead human subjects. 

"I had hoped we could go to my place," she reached to touch me again. 

With much regret, I replied, "I have to go.  There are some magazines next to that chair.  Don't touch anything." 

I got to the control room, and Jarold appeared immensely stressed.  A tech manual written by Dr. Bates was next to the control panel with some of its pages torn out.  When the tech manual comes out, you know something is very wrong.  The coffee pot was shattered; pieces of glass were on the floor along with spilled coffee.  Jarold had also apparently wet his pants.  He pointed to the monitor.  

In the tank there was a human subject in fairly good condition--it had been acquired shortly after death.  It had broken free of the restraints and was now pounding on the entrance door to the tank.  The thing was fully submerged in rehab solvent but did not seem to mind being unable to breathe.  The reconstituted subjects did not have the physical requirement to breathe. 

"It looks like success," I said.  "What's the problem?  Shouldn't we contact Bates?" 

"Can't you see?  Look at his arm!"  Jarold sounded horrified but not excessively so. 

I looked and realized that the one of the subject's arms was missing.  And then I spotted the arm floating at the top of the tank.  The dismembered limb was convulsing on its own as it floated. 

"Not to worry," I reassured.  "This could be normal.  We need to contact Bates."  I took out my phone. 

"Shouldn't we let him out?"  Jarold asked. 

I replied, "I don't know.  How will it behave?  Will it be mad that we brought it back?"  I paused.  "He seems pretty ticked off." 

Bates picked up my call.  "I'm off for the weekend so I hope you have something monumental to report." 

I said, "Your human test subject is animated, it is trying to get out of the resurrection tank, and one of its arms has detached." 

"Is this some kind of joke?"  A loud breath was audible on my cellphone.  I realized he must have been asleep before picking up the line.  "You're not kidding, are you?" 

"This is for-real," I said. 

"I'll be there in twenty minutes.  Change nothing."  He hung up. 

Now I was in a position in which I had to do something with my date who was presumably reading magazines while waiting for me in the other end of the building.  If my boss found out she was present, it would be the end of my job, and I might very well get sued.  I wasn't willing to risk that. 

"Jarold," I said.  It was clear from my tone that I was going to ask for something.  He cocked his head expectantly, with a grin. 

"Say no more.  I will tell Bates that you had to leave on a family emergency.  You can return the favor later on." 

When I got back to my area, I was surprised to see that my date wasn't there obediently reading a magazine.  In fact, she was nowhere to be found.  I called her cellphone.  I heard a very faint ringtone coming from the restroom across the hallway.  I went and pounded on the door.  I continued to hear the ringtone and nothing else.  I checked the doorknob and discovered it was unlocked.  I went into the restroom, and immediately saw that my prospective girlfriend was spread-eagled on the toilet, was inanimate, was pale and was cold to the touch.  I checked her pulse but already knew that she was dead.  I would have some explaining to do. 

I looked at my watch.  In ten more minutes Dr. Bates would be on the premises.  I remembered the stockpile of deceased people in a huge freezer a couple of doors down.  And a cadaver cart was nearby in the hallway.  Was it a bad idea?  Yes, it was.  Did I do it?  Yes.  I knew it was wrong and that I would certainly be caught for it, but the impulse of guilt had taken hold.  I carted my date to the freezer room, to be a future subject for the resurrection experiment.   

I was a scientist, yet my background check wasn't pristine.  I had been accused and had foolishly made a plea deal ten years beforehand.  I hadn't done the crime of which I had been accused, but I had been foolish enough to use a Public Defender.  Jonathan Bates' background wasn't perfect either.  Thus, to an extent, we understood each other. Also, I had developed a mistrust of police.  I feared that if I brought the police into this, I would be blamed for my date's death. 

I put my date into the body freezer, a machine that was designed to freeze bodies without causing cell damage.  The machine hummed and hissed.  Within about a minute, my date was frozen hard as rock.  I immediately put her into one of the storage bays.  Bates would be here by now.  I had to go back. 

When I got back to the control room, I saw Bates sitting, mesmerized by the monitor. He appeared pleased and excited.  He glanced at me over his shoulder.  "Were you ill?" 

"Actually, I was," I replied.  "Is the subject still animated?"

"He is, and I'm about ready to pop open a bottle of champagne."

Bates looked again at the monitor that showed the inside of the conversion tank.  He had thrown a switch to drain the tank, and the fluid level was lowering. The reanimated dead person was gyrating, apparently suffering from massive agitation, while gripping his severed arm with his other hand.  The arm was convulsing while the subject held it. 

Bates looked at me up and down.  "You must've really been sick.  Do you need to see a doctor?" 

I glanced in back of Bates at Jarold--he silently gave me the "high sign" that he wasn't going to rat on me.  I looked at the monitor.  Dead and reanimated or not, this thing was suffering.  "Can this guy be given a shot or something?" I asked. 

Bates snapped at me:  "If you're squeamish all of a sudden, maybe you shouldn't be working here." 

At that point, I was enraged, but held my tongue.  I decided I didn't owe anything to Bates.  I gave Jarold a surreptitious look. 

Nonhuman mammals had not been used before using a human subject--this was due to increasing restrictions on animal experimentation.  Legally speaking, there was a lot less red tape if a scientist used human cadavers.  Having a human subject come to pseudo life was a significant breakthrough.  Up until this moment, only frogs had been reinvigorated. 

Now, I hated myself for participating in this abomination.  Yet, I remembered that I was getting quite a good salary.  I had a twinge in my gut when I remembered that I had just disposed of my date in a very improper manner.  People would be asking questions. 

I said, "You're going to sew the arm back onto the subject, right?" 

Bates was annoyed.  "You're bothering me with trivialities.  Don't you see the success I have here?" 

"Congratulations," I replied.  "It really is a great accomplishment." 

Bates was not buying my pseudo congratulations.  "If you're not on board with what we are achieving, I can easily find someone to take your spot." 

"Sorry," I backpedaled.  "I really am not feeling well tonight." 

"It seems that way," said Bates.  "Go home and get some sleep." 

The following Monday, I returned to work to discover that the subject who had been given pseudo life had been reunited with his arm, and he was being kept in a locked room.  Bates was nowhere to be found.  Jarold was watching the monitor screen intently.  The monitor showed a man with horribly purplish skin, dressed in only a pair of briefs, who sat on a bed, and was motionless, staring straight ahead. 

Jarold turned toward me.  "Hi.  Guess what I don't have to do that you're going to do." 

A knot instantly formed in my stomach.  Did Jarold know my secret?  I feigned a joking tone of voice.  "What have you got on me?" I said. 

"I discovered your girlfriend in the freezer." 

"Damn you," I blurted. 

"I'm going to need privileges and money or I go to the police with your information."  Jarold smiled sarcastically at me. 

I stood within striking distance and for a moment contemplated hitting my subordinate.  Instead of this I swallowed my outrage.  "Fine, you bastard.  What do I need to do?"

Jarold picked up a jug of sudsy ammonia, the type sold in supermarkets.  "Our subject needs to drink this," he said.  "And you're bringing it into his room." 

How hard could that be?  Was the subject going to kill me for giving it what it presumably needed?  I grabbed the handle on the plastic bottle of ammonia, I grabbed the set of keys from a drawer, and I headed straight for the room that had the test subject.  I opened the door without hesitating and I walked in.

The first thing I noticed was the smell.  But I won't go into that right now--suffice it to say the odor was foul.  I made eye contact with the test subject.  It was as if I were dealing with a mountain lion--a wild creature that could attack and kill me if I gave it a reason, or just for amusement.  I handed the bottle of ammonia to the ghastly looking thing.  It grabbed the bottle instantly, uncapped it, and guzzled it down.  Suds were on the subject's lips, and this apparently didn’t matter to him, or it. 

"Let me know if you need anything else.  Do you see the intercom on that wall?"  I pointed to the intercom unit. 

"Just tell me--when can I get out of here?" replied the subject.  Its voice was thick with despair. 

Lying to this poor creature didn't work for me.  I replied, "I don't know.  You will be given some more tests." 

The reanimated man replied, "I need to see a doctor.  Something is wrong with me.  Where am I and why am I here?" 

He looked at his shoulder where his arm had been reconnected, and with a finger, tugged at the stitches which were made of heavy, stainless steel wire. 

I started toward the door.  The test subject made a move as though he would try to block me. 

"No worries," I said.  "You're being taken care of." 

The subject backed off a bit, and I got out the doorway as quick as I could and latched the heavy steel door. 

The reanimation process changed water based life into ammonia based life.  The laboratory had invented pills to provide energy to the subjects that could be taken along with the ammonia.  Normal food was out of the question.       It was anticipated that reanimated men and women would have far greater physical strength than a living person, at least within the first few years.  An approximate guess of their lifespan was a maximum of eight years--the subjects' tissues were reinforced by the change, but could not regenerate. 

I went back to the observation room and made eye contact with Jarold.  "You'll regret it--I'll see to that," I said. 

"I'm real scared…"  Jarold was mocking.  "What was her cause of death?"  

I said nothing and mustered my meanest look.  Jarold thought I was bluffing.  He was mistaken. 

Jarold continued:  "Your girlfriend--what killed her?"  He paused for a good twenty seconds--I did not respond.  He grinned with that sadistic grin once again.  "You mean you don't know?" 

My rage took hold.  There was a shelf nearby that had on it flasks of undiluted chemicals.  I grabbed the nearest of them, uncapped it, and splashed Jarold's face with the contents. 

Unlike in the practices of numerous businesses and labs, there were no surveillance cameras in many areas of the Bates Corporation building. It was a precaution of Bates to lessen the likelihood of criminal prosecution or civil liability.  The less evidence that existed, the better off Bates believed he would be.  This worked in my favor. 

Jarold wailed horribly, and his face was essentially burned off.  He was having trouble breathing, and then was spread-eagled and motionless on his desk chair.  The smell of human flesh incinerated with acid made me nauseous. 

I was well past the point of no return.  I located a cart and put Jarold on it, careful not to get acid on myself.  I then wheeled Jarold into the body freezer, flipped a lever, and Jarold was frozen.

Not knowing what else I should do, I left a note for Bates that simply said that I was resigning.  I went home and got drunk.  After a few more months, I realized that the police weren't going to come for me.  Apparently, Bates must have had as much to hide as I did. 

It was a Saturday morning when I was woken by a loud knock on my door.  My gut sank.  I looked through the peephole, and saw a woman in a t-shirt and a baseball cap.  I was relieved it wasn't a cop, and thought it was probably a new neighbor.  I opened the door. 

I recognized Anna, my date of a few months earlier--although she now had a horrible, pale, purplish complexion. 

"Are you still interested in dating?" she asked.  She pulled a gun from her back pocket and readied it to shoot…