Do You Remember Me?

Chapter four. Not one of us.

In the subdued hospital room lighting, Dr. Brown slowly opened his eyes, discovering a woman seated in a chair beside his bed, her expression absorbed in her thoughts. She shifted, sensing that someone was observing her, and their gazes locked—her defiant, his inquisitive.

"Alana, what have you done?" His words barely rose above a whisper, a question hanging in the air, more guessed than heard.

"What I had to do," Dr. Alana Grey replied as she rose from her seat, shedding her coat. She felt wearing the white coat came with a certain commitment and that day, she hadn't felt that committed.

"It's madness to think it will work out. He is not one of us...you know it..." His voice continued to whisper, his eyes closing in apparent pain.

As her hands moved to check his pulse, then carefully adjusted his pillows, he knew she was buying time with her actions.

"John," she finally responded, using his first name for the first time since their years of working together, "what really makes one, one of us?"

"God makes us all," he stated, his voice now grave and steadier, resonating in the room at a more audible level. "We are all children of God, and nothing changes that. God made the man, and God made the woman."

"And I made...this," she added in a hushed tone, just to see his angry glare. Alana had known her boss for the last five years. Before being her boss, he had been her boyfriend's boss. He was the smartest man she had ever encountered, but lately, everyone around her seemed to be the best of the best. The field of biological research and neurological networking had flourished significantly on the Boise University campus, with full financial backing from tech companies across the Northwest. Her eyes stopped on his chest where a thick golden chain was supporting a cross. Religion had very little to do with their work. He was a believer, she used to be. Past changed everything in different way for both of them. 

"How many people have to die so we stop?"

His question, delivered in a raised tone, prompted her to cautiously turn towards the door to check that no one else might overhear their conversation. Although there wasn't a soul in sight, her tension persisted. In this hospital, there were ears everywhere.

"Why did you choose his name... Dominion?"

"In memory of Dominion, of course. You, of all people, should appreciate it." Her smile held a tinge of sadness, and the man recognized her silent pain. Her pain was also his pain. He was better at hiding it, or at least the man thought so.

"Blake Dominion is not my son, regardless of how hard you try, Alan. I adopted him when he was even younger than Millie is now. I raised him... I just can't go through it all over again... I'm playing my part as much as I can... but you, of all people, should understand that an artificial knee is still artificial..."

Her disagreement was evident as she left his side to walk slowly to the window. It was another rainy day in fall. Boise's streets appeared empty, but the autumn colors outside seemed to pause her train of thought. She hadn't remembered experiencing any seasons for the past three years.

"An artificial knee is still artificial, true, but it achieves its goal. Gives one functionality, gives one choices. Have you thought of that?"

The elderly man exerted himself to sit up in the bed, his frailty evident with every struggle. A slight tremor in his hand betrayed an underlying neurological degeneration. A few months ago, he had been diagnosed with Parkinson's disease, a fact he'd concealed from his colleagues and his wife. Alana observed his trembling hand and recognized the symptoms without needing any confirmation. Her thoughts briefly turned to his wife, who had broken her hip in her rush to visit her ailing husband. News of this would soon reach him.

"You could use the most updated brain stimulator I have made and likely, all your symptoms would be resolved. Your balance, your tremor, your autonomic instability..." she mentioned lightly avoiding direct eye contact. It was a piece of technology she was very proud to have invented.

"I won't be your next toy!" the man replied sharply. "I won't become your next experiment," the man reinstated, slightly calmer, concealing his hand under the covers. "I'm getting old but until the day I day, I want to be me in my own head! You should really think hard what is that you are ...doing. You're not god!"

"That would be funny," Millie chimed in after hearing the last sentence. "Aunt Ala is a woman, so she's a goddess! My goddess!"

"More than you can imagine," he said, his words unheard by all.

With boundless enthusiasm, Millie sprinted to embrace Alana. Her once numerous braids had been replaced by bouncy curls, now filled with boundless energy of their own. With her back to Alana, she cast a compassionate glance at Dr. Brown who seemed to observe the girl's action with a different level of criticism than before.

"Did you hear the great news?" She asked him, glancing at her aunt, seeking approval. But Alana's expression gave no hints.

"Great news?" Dr. Brown's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, I'm still alive, thanks to the two of you. I can feel the pain, so I exist."

Millie glanced at her aunt again, a perplexed expression on her face. She shook her head as if brushing away a bothersome thought, then broke into an even broader smile.

"Blake is coming home with us. He's one of us now!"