The Mechanics of Us

Chapter 14

From the moment when I started driving us back to the apartment complex, to talking with Betes mother and father, and now is all a blur. I do not remember doing any of it; it was as if I was hovering over my body and manipulating it with strings. I was the puppet master but also the puppet, and somehow I managed to manipulate the lines just enough to get into my apartment. Now, I am standing in the middle of my small quaint room with my hands held out in front of me, the copper soon dried up and in flakes.

I need answers. I need to know if this is all real and not some nightmare I was stuck in. I race into the cramped bathroom and flick the lights on. The eerie glow from the light bulbs cast long shadows against the sink and tiles. The mirror that rests above the sink is dusty and slightly cracked in one of the corners. I didn't notice that before and dismissed the details. They are not important anyway.

I use my teeth to pull the cuff of my sleeves over my hand and start to wipe the mirror clean. When there is no more dust and no streaks of oils, I gawk at myself and at the scar, which prominently displays itself on my head. The skin is still slightly raised, and although it has scabbed over, there still are areas where the skin is still thin. I raise my hand and gingerly stroke the seam between the two folds of skin that are held together by threads of blue sutures. My nail snags one of the blue ribbons and yanks on my skin, causing the wound to gape open. A sharp inhale and a cry fills the bathroom, the pain is blinding, and I clutch the sides of the sink to balance myself—drip, drip, drip. My ears perk up—drip, drip, drip. I don't recall turning the sink on, and I am sure there is nothing leaking. I lift my head and see the beads of copper collecting in a well at the bottom of the sink. Trembling, I force myself to face the reality of the situation and watch in the mirror as a copper liquid oozes along the side of my head. Cautiously, I wipe the stream of copper away from my face with the back of my hand and hold the mysterious liquid up to analyze it. I squint to get a more precise and clear observation of it and notice minuscule metallic particles swimming in the congealed fluid.

"What the..." I mouth, and with my finger, I stir the liquid around. It didn't react to my skin, it didn't adhere to its cells, but instead, it splits so there are now two puddles of the visceral mass that rests on the back of my hand. I need answers; this is something that needs to be solved.

I grab a hand towel that is resting on the side of the sink and place it in my mouth. I bite down on the clothes, tilt my head forward, inhale sharply, and with every ounce of strength and going against every instinct I have; I press firmly on the sutures to express more of the copper liquid. The stitches pop and secretes the residual puss and supposed blood into the basin of the sink. The pain is excruciating, and my vision begins to blacken. However, I keep persisting until I am satisfied with the rate of flow, and with a cupped hand, I gather a small well in the palm of my hand.

Now holding a copious amount of this foreign substance, I now need a place to put it all. I stumble into the kitchen and grab a glass from the cupboard and scrape the liquid into it. I place the glass on the counter and position a lamp above it. The cloudy copper liquid swirls around the glass, gathering in clumps rising in blooms and then settling to the bottom of the lens when it breaks the surface.

I am unsure if my blood is a result of the Rein methods since this color is not one from nature. The Rein medicine used always interacts with human flesh. The polarities were the same, so they attract one another, which is why they are used so vastly. The medicines react quicker to the body and produce faster results. Is this why my body is healing so slowly? Or why have the headaches been occurring? Nevertheless, answers will be found; I need some supplies.

I scavenge around the apartment opening random drawers and cupboards in the kitchen and checking the single closet, unearthing anything to help me figure out what is pumping through my veins. Eventually, I find a couple of batteries, a spare light bulb, a weak magnet, and some dish soap.

I take the battery first and place it near the magnet. The particles in the battery will electrically charge the electrons and protons in the magnet and thus create a polarized attraction towards either end. I hold the magnet next to the battery, and after a few minutes, I separate them to test if it worked. I walk over to the fridge and hold the battery out an inch in front of the metal door. I feel a slight tug and then release the magnet to allow it to stick to the fridge door. Perfect. I pluck the magnet off the fridge and put it next to the glass, and sure enough, a copper gel clumps around it with small spikes protruding out around and around the area where the magnet and liquid meet. I move the magnet around and watch as the copper collects and distributes itself within the glass.

"So it's not biologically organic but metallic," I whisper to myself and set the magnet aside.

I reach over and take the dish soap and graciously pour the liquid along the side of the glass. Nothing happens. The two liquids separate to form a line of separation in which they do not cross. This rules out the mysterious solution to be non-polar in its orientation.

I pull out the note from the mother and flip it over, and the page is blank. Then I frantically fumble through the drawers and find a pen. I begin to scribble down my observations.

"Copper liquid, polar, doesn't mix with human cells. Metallic in nature." I take the note and scan the room for a place to hide it. I don't want others to find this; this can not be found out by anyone. To figure out that I could be one of them. Although It is unlikely, I am uncertain and do not want to risk this information getting out. I spot the picture frame on the nightstand and determine that I can use that until I get an actual safe to keep this in. I swipe the picture frame up and take them back out and then place the note with my findings in it, then put them back into place and set it back down.

My thumbs fidget together, my mind buzzing loudly. I try to come up with some rationale for what is happening. I try to convince myself that perhaps I am not one of them, but just using some of their medicines. Only some, not all. If it's only a small percentage, then I am not entirely one of them. But that wouldn't explain why so much of that foreign fluid is in my body or the headaches, the glitches in memory, the heightened senses. A tangible and logical explanation exists, but I do not want to admit it to myself. I can only handle so much, and if I address this now, I will surely go mad. So I won't. There is no rush anyways. The damage has already been done. I can do more research on myself in the future, for now, though, I am not even going to bother. For now, I am going to get ready for tomorrow, clean up the house, clean up myself, and act like nothing is going on. Everything is fine.