Authors: Girish Karthikeyan
Now names. For me: Dominic Bergstrom and Claire chooses Sloane Newlo.
Claire peeks at my choices. “Are you ready for this? There is no going back.”
A quick confirmation. “If you’re fine, I’m fine. How we look doesn’t matter.”
“Hit the grey one to start. I suggest the white one too. That’s up to you. If the pain becomes too much, it’ll self-activate.”
“No prob,” I say as I hit one switch.
Sun 7/15/18 7:21 a.m.
I
sit in a chair situated near my bed, look out over the city sparkling in the early sunlight with a smile on for I don’t know how long, and truly happy, even content for the first time in a long time. The' sun peeks through from the opposite window.
The pad in my hands contains the hard evidence one way or another — from Irena’s computer to my hands, a journey of 6 months. The randomized table from her study Memory Reconstruction waits here in its full detail. The table, decoded with the names of each subject, shows me: Conor Abby, patient number 58-264-9673, group reconstruction, success rate 95.74 percent, current tracking none after 8/30/17. That marks the end of everything. I guided Claire through my experiences, trusting her almost completely, despite some bothersome, residual doubt.
This time, this place is just perfection, life as it should be, my work just a few flights down. The hospital finds a place to host our skills, of medicine and environmental engineer. Everything we need exists right here in this building. Restaurants await in this apartment, down stairs, and further down below ground (the utilization of an old military bunker as prime building area). Everything we could possibly need — all just on a different vertical plane from coffee places to stores to gyms. If we want to go somewhere else for something, that’s easy too. The best thing about this place lies in that bed over there.
There amidst the fluffy beige sheets on white — the point of my affections — ignore the mess of hair strewn about her head and face to see what’s inside. That, what draws me in everyday of my entire life. Claire would hate to hear these words uttered in her presence. My thoughts stay my own with Claire sleeping in that bed, looking peaceful here, more than ever at the Institute. It brings untold joy to me just watching over her.
Claire starts to awaken in the early light of 6 a.m. I go to her in bed for a kiss. We get the bed ready for the next day, the job finished in right order. I grasp her hand and walk her to the bathroom. The security of her warm hands is immeasurable. The ring I felt a need to give rests in safe keeping upon this soft but strong hand.
This book wouldn't have been possible without my family’s' support (Sathiya Karthikeyan, Vadivel Karthikeyan, and Lakshmi Karthikeyan), the nurses helping with my care, and all experiences life gave me. My friends at CritiqueCircle greatly helped my words become more approachable. Also the subset of beta readers: Riskit Adesaogan, Lakshmi Karthikeyan, Sathiya Karthikeyan, and Cori Nelson (for plowing through two drafts.) Finally the people at Createspace and Kindle Direct Publishing for getting my words into paper and pixels.
I'm an immigrant from India and a United States citizen for over 10 years. Having no formal qualification besides high school, I started on a journey to become a writer in 2012. My intelligence, lifetime medical treatment experience, memory, and determination make me the writer I am today. Future works to come.
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