Authors: Melissa Horan
The GOD Box
The God Box
By
Melissa Horan
Text copyrigh
t © 2014 by Melissa Horan
All Rights Reserved
To Jill whose advice I cherish
and steps I follow
To Jonny who has always been my stalwart friend
To Stephanie who makes me happy with her laughter and courage
To my parents
Ann and Jeff who weep with me and rejoice with me, and who teach me to accomplish goals with patience
A bright metallic box
was all he saw when he woke. Perfection – or as near to it as anyone could ever be. Jonathan almost smiled at his work. But before he could even sit up on the silver laboratory table, a five second relapse into recent memories kept the frown in embittered confidence. Everywhere outside of this box… was bondage; was misery.
There they both were in the lab again, surprise, s
urprise, naked and new. Gabe lay still and silent; thinking, meditating about where they were, what they were doing. His counterpart, Jonathan, sat up, obviously ready to get this show on the road. Gabe preferred to take his time (in other words avoiding the show in every way) and lay there wondering if this was how newborn babies feel. If they could consciously understand – I’m opening my eyes, I’m moving my fingers, I’m breathing in and out… I’m stark naked. In Gabe’s mind there were very few reasons to ever be naked. This was one of them, because it wasn’t his choice. At least there was no blood. The thick water, however, left a filmy residue on his skin.
A
gentle warm breeze came from the vents above. It made no noise as it floated down and around them. Gabe realized he would have dried faster if he got off the table. But he didn’t want to. Not yet. He kept his eyes straight to the ceiling. There was no need to look to his left. All that lay in that direction was the door. No need to look to his right, it was obvious Jonathan would be there. Gabe had enough trust in this system by now.
It was t
ime to go judge another society and deem if it was livable and in worthy conditions to continue progressing.
Why?
Gabe thought.
Why do we do this?
His thoughts were interrupted by a few barely audible words from Jonathan.
“Table’s cold.”
That was the first grumbling out of Jonathan’s mouth
, and it wouldn’t be the last. Gabe could agree, yes, the table was cold. The table was a standard steel lab table, but was getting old and the imperfections of its build were giving in to gravity and it was becoming weak and shaky. Gabe’s ears perked up as Jonathan’s soft new skin was sticking and making soft suction noises as he was scooting along on the smooth metal surface of the table, where he sat with his feet over the edge, willing the table not to collapse, and staring at the ground between his knees. The floor looked like nature – which very few other parts of the room did. A multi colored red, yellow, and brown. The ground had been smoothed away, but unfinished. It sloped gently to the edges of the room where small slits worked as a gutter system, leading excess water back into cavities of the earth.
W
hen World War III suggested imminent annihilation, some things became superfluous. One of those things was the floor. Stainless steel walls surrounded them with a few mechanical compartments here and there. But the floor was left bare. Gabe decided that it probably exemplified to Jonathan the perversion of his perfection. The floor was his Achilles heel, if you will. Or, in the most dramatic expression yet, it was his mortality that kept him from being welcomed into Mount Olympus as a God.
As bombs destroyed Northern Africa, India, Mexico and the Southern part of the United States of America, a team of thirty men and women were wandering around, in, and above this small man-made cavern, assorting supplies, testing the function of the large machine they brought in,
putting together tables, or shivering in the cold waiting for everyone else to finish the work. Sometimes there just wasn’t enough work to go around. Or, perhaps it was because they had no idea what was really going on in the cave, but they were there because they were a part of the project. At any rate, they were hired, and obviously didn’t feel like waiting to die at home.
Other things became futile, too, but those were
things Gabe was hoping to forget; hoping the consequences of making them futile would not prove this whole project superfluous, as he was fearful they would.
Somehow
, the others seemed to think that Jonathan and he were the lucky ones… the ones who got to be “born again” by an ingenious process, discovered by Jonathan himself. Granted, the cloning process was flawless, but that wasn’t the issue. Even Gabe loved the idea to begin and could hardly be frightened for death when he knew he was coming back… regardless, in hindsight, maybe this was the eternal Hell he never believed existed.
Gabe
finally looked to Jonathan, seeing from his back, the rolls of fat.
Gross
. Turning quickly to Gabe, Jonathan shot the nastiest look. They glared at each other for a while. Of course Jonathan was terse with him. So he had destructive reflexes.
Sorry
.
Both of them were shivering. The
fabricated, or grown placentas which had been their womb, dissolved and emptied the fluid which was seeping underneath their feet through the drains while the plastic covering draped on either side of the table. One time only, Gabe watched it work… the placenta expanded like balloon, filling with the mixture of water and whatever else was needed to make life.
Gabe knew how much
Jonathan enjoyed waking up to that sight and smell. It was his life’s work. There were so many things now that he would do differently, too, Gabe was sure… having experienced the cloning himself. Such progress was his obsessive passion. However, all the zeal for life was now turned to anger as he looked around him and realized it was not likely he would ever again have the tools he needed to make his work better.
Gabe’s e
yes were focused back up on the bright ceiling. Still thinking; picturing, but not moving. He remembered that in the corner of the room was the resting place of clothing – tightly packed and insulated in drawers flush with the wall, except the small handle.
Insulated clothes?
Gabe was grateful for whatever idiot decided that was important. Food, medicine, and water supplies they might need were in the drawers next to the clothes, which food was really only for emergency and self-preservation if needed. All supplies except for the medication, which was for Jonathan, were for emergencies.
No sooner had Gabe
thought it, then Jonathan squeegeed off of the metal and put his feet onto the floor, rolling them around, discovering physical sensations again. After the scuffling of bare feet on rock, the very next moment there was a rattling and rolling from one of the drawers where all of the pills were kept. Jonathan was up and ready to work. It amazed Gabe that Jonathan’s addiction to medication carried over from cloning to cloning. Gabe didn’t agree with bringing medication, and was more of an organic guy himself. But, Jonathan tended to get what he wanted and for his medication he argued a good point, which Gabe can attest to – He would be hell to live with without it.
A large twin
machine was connected to the tables Gabe was lying on, all of which stood against the wall opposite the food and clothing. That was all there was to see under the bright laboratory lights bearing down on them from the ceiling. Did the light have to bring their situation to such clarity
?
The room was maybe ten feet on all sides and seven feet high. Behind and above him there was a silver egg-shaped container that was plugged into two tubes of the machine: one to Gabe’s side and one to Jonathan’s. And, Jonathan, who was going in order of priority, collected pills first, now the egg. He undid the tubing in a hurry as if in a heist from Gabe’s arm reach, looking at Gabe incredulously; as if to say: you think you could handle this? You thinking about stealing it? Think again.
Clipping
hurriedly into place the two syringes for their blood, and refilling the third larger one with a deceitful substance that looked like water from a special tap near the door, Jonathan snapped the case closed. That water substance was their key to the restart of what was bound to be another poorly formed society. Especially considering the circumstances they left under. When injected into a water source, the substance held potency for three days and killed anyone who drank from that water and then they practically disintegrated, thus leaving a minute living trace of the past.
W
ith another dirty look at Gabe, Jonathan then decided it was time to get dressed. What couldn’t be put in the egg but was nonetheless important to the re-birth process were two miniscule devices that were now implanted in their brains, receiving and storing memory in the machine itself. As was once explained to Gabe, the only thing that made them who they were was their experiences. With a lifetime of thought and memory, Jonathan managed to age the bodies with the growth of the brain, so that they might result in the exact person as before.
Gabe could hear Jonathan breathing
more heavily than he usually did, and knew that the pills had not yet kick in. He was feeling claustrophobic and that meant they’d be leaving soon.
When he realized that Jonathan was almost dressed he hopped up quickly because he wanted to be first. The ground hurt his feet and it was rather cold. Not only was he an old man, but an old man in a new
, yet aged body, which proved to have some strange effects mentally. As he rushed, he tipped toward the sleek metal wall to stable himself while dressing. The room was almost dry now because of the man-made air circulation. When they started this project, the circulation system was their first instillation, which Gabe remembered because he felt it was necessary to ask why that of all things was most important. Now he knew. The cave otherwise would be filled with hundreds of years of rot.
There were so many items to grab
and then to stuff in the many-pocketed khaki pants he wore: a watch, a device similar to a cell phone for emergencies. Gabe had also opposed the communication device, and yet, Jonathan’s argument won again: What if they were to get separated? With the new plan that one could not be cloned again without the other; it was necessary for them to be in contact. Chances are Jonathan would have vehemently opposed that new rule if he wouldn’t have looked like a traitor to say it. In reality it was just because Jonathan was as insecure as the rest of the world with hands and thumbs addicted to tiny little machines, begging for attention from the vast impersonal universe. Though, Gabe admitted secretly, that he was personally very satisfied to have a watch.
Gabe was pulling on his ankle-high socks when he realized Jonathan was now waiting for him. Well, maybe Gabe didn’t have to rush for this. Maybe Jonathan had finally come to the conclusion that Gabe was, however slightly, more charismatic than he and when they climbed the thirty feet in elevation into the main entry-way, whoever they were going to meet would need someone they felt they could trust.
Or, maybe the pill was working now.
Animalis
tic sounds came from out of Jonathan’s mouth as he anxiously ate a whole bag of beef jerky.
Or
, maybe not.
Warm
, dry clothes were one of the best feelings in the world. Gabe savored this moment peacefully and even sighed, which irritated Jonathan who was waiting, eating, and bouncing like a small child who needed to use the bathroom. He was waiting for Gabe to finish being choosy about his supplies and to be ready to leave. It wasn’t like Gabe enjoyed this anymore. He loathed it; a young anthropologist’s dream, and an old one’s nightmare. Even with the enjoyment that came with his research of each new culture – conditioning people in the longest freaking science experiment ever and having to make choices for them was something else.
Jonathan closed his eyes and
Gabe suspected that he was imagining large, bright, open spaces; science labs and the beach in Florida where he had travelled frequently with his (ex)wife. Gabe had been Jonathan’s therapist a time or twenty, informally.
After what Jonathan
felt was a reasonable amount of time, he opened his eyes again and tried to brush past Gabe who was nearer the entrance.
Gabe bustled
around haphazardly to be a roadblock, while putting extra beef jerky and a deck of cards in two different pockets. A whole stack of freeze-dried food was left untouched in the drawer. The look Gabe returned to Jonathan was divisive. Reaching arduously over to the corner again, Gabe grabbed a handful of bags of dried fruit and put it in a third pocket, and one more in his back pocket, almost falling twice. There needed be an order, though. Besides, Gabe was the one who set the door code to get out, while Jonathan set the one outside to get in; though Gabe never knew how much Jonathan knew (as this was basically, though not technically, his project), starting to the door first felt like a threat – a crossing of his jurisdiction.
Just a small keypad of numbers stood at chin-level and was covered by a
metal box so that one could slip a hand underneath and punch in numbers by muscle memory. The buttons were soft. Wanting to be certain, Gabe moved a little slower than either of them liked. But, he figured it was better to get it right the first time.
Finally ready,
and door closed behind them, they both trekked up poorly cut-out and designed steps which directed them first horizontally and second vertically. At times the path was narrow and rocky and other times very wide. Small incandescent lights, dimmed but twinkling from moisture residue, lined the pathway for their feet and larger construction lights beamed over head for the first ten minutes of their climb. Those ended and they knew it was time for the spike upward. This last part of the climb was about a fifty degree angle, but so tight an enclosure that you couldn’t fall if you tried.
Gabe shuffled unevenly
through a twenty-foot stretch just wide enough for his skinny, wrinkly body, with his bony hand skimming the wet stone wall to tell him when they would come out of it. Jonathan followed behind being a little pushy.
