Photo by Tomasz Frankowski on Unsplash
Creelix Bounty makes his way to his patient’s domicile in a far corner of the settlement. He’s sweating inside his imitation leather jacket. Pausing to survey his surroundings, the pensive black eyes behind his mirrored aviator sunglasses register something vaguely ethereal about this place. The houses are expansive and brightly-coloured, with large windows enrobed in lacy window coverings so unwanted eyes can’t peek in. Most of the houses have sprawling greenhouses attached to them at the back. All of it turns his stomach and makes him feel a little like a mangy rat in a meadow of butterflies. Creelix rubs the salt-and-pepper, three-day-old stubble on his face and approaches the walkway to a fuschia-coloured house surrounded by profusely flowering bougainvillea bushes.
Creelix Bounty is a doctor, but the only medical resources he carries in his satchel are emergency revival syringes, and self-testing devices and supplies. He really is no more than a delivery man and his wages reflect that harsh truth. His long lineage of doctors, derisively referred to as “pill pushers”, has ended up with him. He still remembers when he was a young boy, before the great pandemic of 2019, and how important his father and grandfather were in their communities. They were men of authority and importance making six-figure salaries. Creelix had wanted to follow in their footsteps from the moment he could remember. But everything changed after the pandemic and the synchronous societal revolution that sought to equalize males and females of various colours and gender preferences. A white man was no longer the most powerful. Working remotely became the norm as did remote medical therapy, through self-assessment terminals and self-administered treatments. Only those medicals that were involved in research, infectious disease control and certain specialty surgeons were still revered for their medical practices and offerings, the others were mere technicians. What riles Creelix more than anything, though, are those blasted thought-benders. Usually some sort of female-esque beings, the thought-benders have become the regional leaders and advisors. Society depends on them to provide healing mental and emotional therapies, resolve societal conflict and provide clean and clear organization. Creelix can’t understand how these charlatans gained so much power. Sure, they’re highly intelligent, he’ll give them that, and he’s heard that they’re uniquely attuned to emotions and internal imbalances but there has to be something else. Some other reason they gained so much power and influence.
Creelix pushes the doorbell button and hears a melodic chime from inside the house. Many times, the doorbells to his patients’ houses don’t work and he ends up having to knock. Not this time, but no one comes to the door. They are expecting him, he had confirmed the appointment. Creelix is getting anxious and annoyed. These patients have no regard for him or his time. Maybe this time he’ll do it on purpose. It was wildly exhilarating to hold the power of death over someone; to take them to their final thought and breath. It was so easy last time, even though it was an accident. Luckily, no one found out. People still die after all. At that moment, he decides that he will let fate decide this patient’s destiny. If the person is a thought-bender, about a 10% possibility, he would take their life, and if not, they would be spared. He presses the doorbell button again and hears the melodic chime but immediately after, a warm, feminine voice sings out, “I’m coming.”
He hears approaching footsteps and then the door swings open. A tallish, soft-looking woman with warm chestnut brown hair nestled on her shoulders, beams a smile at him. Her hazel eyes glow with warmth too. In fact, all of her seems to emit warmth even though she’s dressed in a long loose sheath of icy blue. Creelix cringes. “A thought-bender, no doubt.” He thinks, and then he sneers in delight. “Dr. Creelix Bounty.” He introduces himself.
“Waverly Welcome. Nice to meet you Dr. Creelix.” Bounty notices that she called him by the more familiar first name, not his surname. The disrespect makes him bristle and steels his resolve to act.
“I have some major updates for your self-assessment terminal beyond the usual system updates.” Says Creelix.
“Come in, please.” Says Waverly, and steps aside so he can enter.
Creelix enters and the door slides silently closed behind him. He’s caught off guard by the extreme vastness of the room. It’s sparsely furnished and strewn randomly with holographic images, a floor-length wall mirror glistens at the back, reflecting crisp sunlight.
“My self-assessment terminal is just here.” She motions to a comfortable looking set of emerald green wing chairs next to the telltale chartreuse-curtained self-assessment terminal booth. The scent of gardenia floats around Waverly as she takes a seat in one of the chairs and motions for him to have a seat next to her.
“Please tell me about the new detection options.”
“There are a few new advances. Most significantly, cancer can now be detected even earlier, at the pre-cancerous stage. Should this be detected in your self-assessment monitoring, the medical centre will immediately be notified and you will be provided with the proper course of targeted therapy to eradicate the cancer.”
“That’s wonderful!” exclaims Waverly.
“I’ll get to work then.” Says Creelix, as he steps behind the chartreuse curtain. He settles into the self-assessment chair and develops his next steps. He’ll disconnect the video camera on the security system so there won’t be any way of identifying him as her killer. This will be followed by an “unfortunate accident” with the emergency revival syringe. One injection revives, two may be needed and are survivable, but three are lethal.
“I’d rethink that, Creelix.” Waverly’s warm voice is strong and clear in his head. She’s invaded his mind! He hesitates but continues the dismantling of the video system. He tries to keep clear of thinking, so she won’t discern his unfolding plan.
Her voice continues “We suspected that you killed one of your recent patients. You’ve been closely monitored ever since.”
The video system has been disabled. He can carry out the rest of his plan. She’s just trying to trick him, she doesn’t know anything, just what she’s picked up from his thoughts while he’s been here. Creelix steps out of the self-assessment terminal expecting Waverly to be seated on that emerald green armchair, with a smug, self-satisfied smile on her face, but both chairs are empty. There’s a hint of her heady rich gardenia scent lingering in the air, but the rest is silence.
Sunlight streams in through a crack in the lacy curtains. Creelix wanders around the spacious room, looking for a doorway to the rest of the house but he only sees holograms of Waverly at different stages of her life and people who must be family and friends. Everyone looks sickeningly happy. Creelix swipes at the holograms out of contempt but manages only to momentarily disrupt the images. The smiling faces keep smiling at him. He has to find Waverly before she can ….
She invades his mind before he can finish his thought “Creelix, there’s no room in this world for hate and fear and envy.”
“This world is built on hate, fear and envy. Your patronizing, better-than-thou attitude was molded from hate and fear and envy.”
Her sad, mellifluous voice fills his mind, “No, Creelix. All these negative traits belong to humanity’s past, not the present.”
“Humanity’s past? My father, grandfather and great-grandfather were part of that past. It was a glorious past when my kind were revered. I still remember my father after the pandemic; he’d lost everything. Remote medicine removed him from his patients, and he lost the connection with them. He lost the desire to help and serve them, and he didn’t collect the lucrative compensation he once did. He was a broken man, and the development of self-assessment technology along with the proliferation of you thought-benders were responsible for his ultimate self-destruction and demise.”
“It doesn’t have to be too late for you, Creelix.” She sounds hopeful now as she continues “You can work with us in spreading love, unity, and peace.”
“Drivel! You’re just a bunch of new-age hippies. I have no use for you. You and all of these happy friends and family that surround you,” he gestures wildly at all of the holograms. “You make me sick!”
“Creelix, those holograms are not of my friends and family. Those are the lost ones, paused temporarily or permanently, it depends on them. You can choose your destiny, Creelix, or you can become destiny’s choice. Join us and live in the real world, or, decline and become one of the lost ones.”
“No! I’ll never join you!” He yells at the top of his lungs in the empty room.
“That’s too bad. I was hoping you would have joined us.” Says Waverly. “But now you don’t exist anymore. Your battle for survival and power has been lost to your pervasive hate.”
Creelix begins to laugh. It’s a loud guffaw that sounds more like a drowning man grappling for air. “I exist! I’m here, just as much as you are.” But of course, he doesn’t know where she is, and even if she is actually still there.
He walks over to the full-length mirror and sees his image.
“I wouldn’t be able to see myself if I didn’t exist. And there I am!” he points emphatically at the image of himself, “Just come out so we can get this done.”
Waverly’s resonant voice again chimes in “Look again, Creelix.”
He doesn’t want to, but he must look. This time he sees nothing, only the wall opposite the mirror.
Terror grips him.
*****************
Moments later, Waverly walks in through the full-length mirror carrying a basket of fresh-picked garden tomatoes in one hand and a bouquet of freshly cut gardenias in her other hand. She lays these down on a side table and walks over to her newest hologram. She looks at it with a wistful smile on her lips and the promise of a tear in her eye.
“Creelix Bounty, you’re yet another example of how our assimilation efforts with you humans have gone astray.It makes me wonder if humans are salvageable as a race. But you do look so much better with a smile on your face.I hope, in time, you’ll learn to wear it more regularly.” Waverly’s eyes glow icy blue for a second before turning back to hazel.
Toronto, ON-born Melanie Flores divides her time working as an editor/proofreader/writer and audiobook narrator and writing poetry and short stories. Her work has appeared online, in print journals, and in various international and national anthologies and her poetry has won several awards. Melanie is currently working on her first mystery novel and a book of poetry.