The Experiment of Dreams (26 page)

T
here was light.

So bright that he couldn’t keep his eyes open, so he closed them and time passed.

When his eyes opened again, the world was a blurry mess—unrecognizable. He strained to focus on something—anything, to make sense of where he was, who he was. There was a person standing above him, and then the same bright light flashed in his eyes, going back and forth, like a … flashlight?

Muffled voices spoke.

He closed his eyes.

When they reopened, he was able to focus on the textured ceiling high above. A face appeared above him.

“Ben, are you awake? Can you hear me?”

Ben’s raw throat felt as if he’d swallowed large pinecones. He nodded. The flashlight appeared again, and Dr. Wulfric leaded in close, studying the dilation of his pupils.

“Can you speak? Don’t push yourself.”

Ben swallowed and cleared his throat. “Yes.” His voice was choppy and hoarse, like the words themselves were cut by glass. “I can speak.”

“Good, Ben. That’s good.” The doctor smiled. “Oh, that’s so good, Ben.”

Dr. Wulfric left and came back, holding a Dixie cup filled with ice chips. He fed Ben a small spoonful of the crushed ice, letting it melt on his tongue before feeding him more. The cold water blanketing his raw throat issued swells of soothing relief.

“Makes you appreciate the little things.” Dr. Wulfric patted Ben’s knee and fed him some more. The Doctor’s eyes were wet. “You need to rest now, but you’re fine, Ben. You’re going to be just fine.”

Ben did as the doctor ordered and went back to sleep. The next time he awoke, he was calm and felt a pleasant lightheadedness, as if he were drifting on a raft, floating on a tranquil sea, the rough waves long behind him. He was warm and comfortable beneath a sheet and comforter with two soft pillows under his head.

“Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes, Doctor. I am.” He sat up in bed.

“I want to keep you connected to the IV for a while; you’re still dehydrated. You must be starving. Michael went across the street to get you some soup. Do you have much of an appetite?”

He was starving, but felt like he might throw up at any given moment. “I am, I think. I’m nauseous too.”

“We’ll start slow; just a few sips of broth. Here, a sip of water might help also.” Dr. Wulfric poured a cup and handed it to him.

They were staying in a hotel room, a not-so-great-looking hotel room, with two double beds facing a TV, a small circular table under a picture window, and a bathroom around the corner. The blue carpet and white walls were drab and outdated, and the television was a product of the 80s. The wall on the far side of the room was stacked high with cardboard boxes, several of which were open. Files were spread over the small table in chaotic array. An open briefcase sat on the empty bed beside him, full of medical supplies—bandages and gauze, a stethoscope, an ophthalmoscope, and various containers with pills and needles. The sheets and blankets on the other bed were carelessly thrown over the mattress, and the pillows were tossed to the side.

“Where are we?”

“Monticello.”

Ben nodded. He had passed through Monticello many times when he lived upstate.

“Ben … we need to talk.” Dr. Wulfric looked away, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I don’t even know where to begin …”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“No, Ben, I do. I do. There’s plenty I need to explain. Jesus … this is my fault—everything is my fault.”

“No, Doctor. It isn’t,” Ben pushed a pillow farther behind his back, “and I forgive you.”

Dr. Wulfric looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“This wasn’t your fault. I know you always had the best of intentions. I know you saved me—not once, but twice. I know you pulled me out of my apartment in Drapery Falls while it burned to the ground. I know you laced the needle Iain stuck in my arm with drugs to lower my heart rate, to make it appear to Iain that my heart had stopped working completely. I know that you and Michael are responsible for saving me again.”

“My god, Benjamin, how …”

“My name is Ethan, correct? Ethan Moore.”

Dr. Wulfric’s mouth was agape. “How do you know all of this?”

Three loud knocks came from the door, followed by three faster, rhythmic taps and one last hard one. Dr. Wulfric got up to open the door. Daylight streamed into the curtained room, and two figures entered, closing and locking the door behind them. Michael carried a paper bag from the diner with chicken soup for Ben, and sandwiches for himself and the doctors. He saw Ben sitting upright, awake and alert, and smiled.

“He’s awake!” said the man with Michael. “Ben, you’re awake!”

“Hello, Stuart.”

Dr. Wright rushed to the side of the bed. He felt his breast pocket for a penlight, and then looked to the bag of medical supplies when he realized he wasn’t wearing a lab coat. Dr. Wulfric put a hand over his wrist.

“He’s fine, Stuart.”

Dr. Wright sat on the edge of Ben’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, Stuart. I’m all right.”

“Ben … we have so much to talk about.”

“He knows,” Dr. Wulfric said, shaking his head. “I don’t know how, but he knows everything.”

“What—”

“Dr. Wright, you don’t have to explain yourself. None of you do.”

“What do you mean, Ben?”

“I believe he would like to be called Ethan,” Dr. Wulfric added. “It’s time we gave Ben back his rightful identity.”

Ben shook his head. “Call me Ben. Whatever life I had before, it feels like a dream. I can remember things—my past—but it doesn’t feel like I lived any of it. I might have been named Ethan Moore once, but I’ve become Benjamin Walker.”

“How do you remember?” Dr. Stuart Wright felt a great wave of shame. He was guilty of writing the software that changed Ethan Moore’s memories and identity to that of Benjamin Walker. The program, along with an altered version of the Nano serum, allowed Dr. Wright and Dr. Wulfric to view and alter Ethan’s mind and memories while connected to Lucy.

Essentially, the software caused Lucy to work in reverse. Instead of recording Ethan’s mind and sending the information back to Lucy, the doctors had Lucy supply the information, and send it to the Nano, where it was then broadcast to the neurons in his brain. Immediately after, the doctors destroyed all of their work, vowing to never re-create that specific program or serum again. Playing God was not something they wanted to be a part of, but it was the only way they could save Ben’s life.

“Please, Ben,” Dr. Wulfric went on. “Tell us how you remember?”

“Because of him.” Ben pointed to Michael, still standing by the door. Everyone turned to face him. Michael nearly dropped the bag of food.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Let me start at the beginning.” Michael pulled up a chair, and they sat in silence, listening to Ben explain in detail the events as they unfolded. He told them about Emily and his journey from his apartment, between a train and busses, and his trek through the woods. He told them about his
fall
—which Dr. Wulfric believed to be a mild seizure. He told them about the faceless man and the cabin, and the conversation he had with, essentially, himself.

“That’s when things started becoming clear to me. Whatever part of my memory that had been blocked suddenly began breaking free. I could remember being Ethan Moore, back when I was young. I remembered being recruited for the Lucy project shortly after my grandmother died, and I remembered you both—Dr. Wulfric and you, Stuart, working for Mr. Kalispell at the lab outside Drapery Falls.”

“That’s amazing, Ben. It shouldn’t be possible for you to remember any of this.” Dr. Wright looked stunned.

“I think I had to remember. It was either I remember or I die.” Ben continued the story. “Strange things started happening when I entered the cabin. I began seeing things through someone else’s eyes, like when I had the dreams of Drapery Falls. I didn’t know who’s eyes I was seeing things through at first, but then I realized it was Michael, or rather,
I
was Michael in the dream.

“I saw you guys working on me, fixing me, after I was dragged from the burning apartment. I saw you put me under Lucy, back when it was still a prototype, and write the software that allowed you to make adjustments to my memory. I could feel … I could feel what Michael was feeling, his emotions and sensations. I felt his tension when he disobeyed Mr. Kalispell. I felt him worry that I might still be in danger, and that you were all in danger—serious danger. I know that you made a deal with Mr. Kalispell that you would wipe my memory in exchange for my life. It was the only option he entertained. I know the terrible stress, guilt, and disappointment the three of you felt, and I know you put your own lives on the line to save me.”

They were quiet. Then Dr. Wulfric said, “That’s just remarkable.”

Ben continued, “It was the software, the program that told the Nano particles how to behave, that blocked and changed my memory. This software allowed the new serum to do what it did. The dark areas of my brain—the areas I couldn’t access or operate—was where the serum survived, keeping itself alive without my mind being actively aware.

“When I began hallucinating, when my mind created the image of Emily, I truly believed she intended to kill me. I think my body’s response to rid itself of the Nano was to eliminate those dark spots of my brain, the corrupted neurons. The thing my once-rational mind did not comprehend—although it should have—is that eliminating the dark parts of my brain would also wipe out everything else. Mutually assured destruction.

“Ethan explained that the visualization of him that I was seeing came from the blank parts of my mind that were actively becoming aware, to stop my impending death. Slowly, I began remembering my past, and allowing my own immune system to begin eradicating the Nano, as it should have done to begin with. I woke up around that time, but I don’t remember much. My past was still coming to me, bubbling up into my thoughts little by little.

“I woke up with a migraine—a very bad migraine. I vomited when I tried to move, and I saw a pistol lying next to my head. I heard a gunshot so I picked up the gun. I tried to yell, but I couldn’t. I crawled to the doorway, and through the almost blinding lights of the aura migraine, I saw Iain aiming a gun at Michael’s face. I knew from my dreams, or hallucinations, that it was Iain who killed Ethan Moore—at least Iain thought so at the time—and he had no regret doing it. I also knew that Michael saved me back then, and that if I didn’t help now, Iain would kill us both. We would all be dead—all of us. So, I did what I had to do. I aimed the gun as best as I could and pulled the trigger.”

Ben finished speaking, and everyone was silent. He thought about explaining the cabin, the way it appeared to him when he entered, the knick-knacks and roaring fire in the hearth, and the heavy smell of food cooking—but that memory wasn’t for them. It was special to Ben, real or not. He may never be certain
why
he went to the cabin to begin with, why Emily had taken him there. But now, it was clear in hindsight that he knew all along where his feet were taking him. It was his own subconscious that took him there, the part of his mind that was forever consumed with the painting of the cabin.

Perhaps he had to be in the cabin to properly say goodbye to Emily, to his old life and his old ways. Or perhaps Emily—or the Nano— knew it was the one place he was guaranteed to follow her to, so she could get him alone, where no one could save him. The cabin was the one spot he held in his heart more than any other.

Dr. Wulfric broke the silence. “That’s fucking amazing!” he said. Ben laughed, and then they all started laughing. Dr. Wulfric continued, “When we got you here, to this room, your blood was still coursing with the serum. As the hours progressed, the numbers steadily declined until the Nano was gone altogether. Your own immune system did the work; it flushed the drugs out of your system. I knew it would, it just needed a little time. The Nano, when it mutated and progressed, could be partially responsible for its own demise. I believe the mutated Nano fixed some of those blank spots in your memory, although in doing so, it let your immune system flush it out from your body.”

“How …” Michael interrupted, his words stammered. “How did you see those things? You said you saw things through my eyes, like you were in my body?”

Dr. Wulfric answered, “Because you were sleeping here next to Ben in this room after we fixed your leg, and you told us that you were briefly unconscious in the cabin after Iain punched you. He must have read your thoughts, just like he did with Iain back in Rome.”

Michael looked Ben in the eyes, and then turned his gaze to the floor, rubbing the side of his jaw. Ben would never mention all the things he saw through Michael's eyes: the war, the countless bodies that fell before him. He felt Michael’s stress, regret, and the feeling of loss he held in his heart. The years of torment had not been easy to deal with. Ben felt nothing but sympathy for Michael.

“The only thing I don’t understand,” Ben said, “is why you brought me back to the project?”

No one wanted to answer. Dr. Wulfric looked to Dr. Wright and Michael, and they both stood up. Dr. Wright said, “I think this is a conversation you and Peter should have alone.”

“No, Stuart.” Dr. Wulfric waved them back to their seats. “We’re all in this together. You and Michael should stay.” He sighed, and continued, “We tried to do the experiment without you. We tested several other participants, but no one could adapt to Lucy to the extent your mind did. We tested over a dozen subjects—fourteen to be exact—and none of them could achieve the level of lucid dreaming that you are able to achieve.

“We knew about your personal life, about Emily and how tormented you’d become over the years. We were generally afraid for your health. We didn’t want … well, anything to happen to you. We wanted you to have a happy, long life. You deserved it after your ordeal in Drapery Falls. We knew you were unhappy, that you were drinking too much, becoming financially unstable, and incredibly depressed after losing Emily. So depressed that we were concerned you would either hurt yourself or lose your job and be tossed on the streets. Worst of all, we didn’t think you would care if something bad
did
happen to you. You were giving up on everything. That’s why we supplied the jobs with Dr. Wright over the years, so we could keep tabs on you and give you some money while doing so.”