The Dream of Genes

Chapter 7: Vincent

I rubbed my eyes open, for a second displacing my green contacts which I accidentally fell asleep wearing, as I heard the sound of a phone going off. Its sound reverberated off the concrete walls. Like drumsticks hitting a snare drum in quick recession or someone impatiently knocking on a door, it called for me. I rose to a sitting position in the bed and concluded that the phone must be Eugene's since my wrist phone was always on my personage.

Little did I realize, my phone was currently not on my wrist.

I looked around the bedroom. Dresser with books stacked haphazardly on top, objects banished to the corners, nothing hanging on the walls. This wasn't my bedroom. It was Eugene's. What am I doing here? I look to my right and find Eugene's empty imprint on the blanket. Where is he?

My brain cannot seem to work as I try to remember what happened last night. It didn't help that I was groggy and had a slight headache—must have slept poorly. We were playing a game with clear liquids. Water perhaps? It was water and vodka. We played vodka roulette and Never Have I Ever. My brain was trying to tell me something, it told me to think farther into the past.

The vodka bottle.

The assistance.

The incinerator.

My green-contacted eyes widened as I attempted to walk, wobbling in my franticness and having to rely on the bed for support with my outstretched arms. I had saved my friend from the incinerator once, but that would surely not be the last time. I half expected him to be cremated and turned to ash. I could envision it in my brain, yet hoped it would not be true.

But as the heels of my shoes clicked upon the corner of the metal ramp, I saw him in his wheelchair, holding a glass of clear liquid. My heart beat hard in my chest even though I had only woken up a few minutes ago. I stood there watching him as he watched me, never once taking a sip from the glass. Slowly, I walked over to him, almost tripping and falling off the short-saturated ramp.

"Is that vodka? Are you drinking at," I raised my hand to check my worst phone, but I found that the device was not where it normally was. Giving up, I looked toward Eugene for the answer.

He checked his phone which was an actual phone instead of my inexpensive wristphone. "7:09 AM?" Eugene shook his head and sighed, passing the drink towards me. " And no, it is not. It's actually water, and it's for you." He held his arm straight. "Thought you might want something to help with the hangover but if not..." The glass slightly loose in between his pointer finger and thumb, rocked back and forth like a pendulum in his lax grasp. There was no sink before him as he was about to dump the liquid on the floor, or worse, drop the whole thing.

Is that what I was experiencing, a hangover?

I quickly took it from his grasp and he seemed to smile sincerely as if he lied and waited to see my reaction like what occurred the previous night. Like last night, I cautiously tasted a little of the liquid with the tip of my tongue. It was indeed water.

"You might want to answer that," Eugene said, veering his head to the side where my wristphone lay on the empty counter. It was easy to find it because nothing else was on the stainless steel counters, everything else had to be stripped away during the past few days. "It was ringing last night when you were too drunk to see clearly," Eugene smirked. "You were slurring your words and falling all over the place. It was a real hassle dragging you to the bed last night."

"Thanks?" I said, wandering to the wristphone with my glass. By that time, the phone had stopped and started ringing again. Finally put it out of its misery and answered the call, after placing it on my wrist.

I brought the wristphone to my face, as I struggled to put it on. "Hello?" I turned my back to Eugene to give myself some privacy yet I could hear him wheel off somewhere behind me.

"Jerome, is that you?" Since I was not acquainted with many women, I recognized Irene Cassini solely through the sound of her voice.

"Yes?" I said. I'm not sure if I meant it as a question or not. Irene recently found out about me being a degenerate, and the fact that Eugene and I more or less share the same name can be confusing when you aren't sure what they call the other person. But I was not thinking correctly because why would she call Eugene? She doesn't even have his phone number, only I do.

Irene didn't notice my hesitance as she continued, her voice tremulous and tight. "Finally," she breathed. "Jerome, the launch has been postponed because of your absence and the new Mission Director is furious. Where were you?" With my groggy mind, I could barely pay attention, but I managed to note her anxious, yet fiery tone.

Instead of answering, I looked over at Eugene. He was just sitting there seemingly bored out of his mind. Only then did I truly wonder what he did when I was not present? I took a sip of the cool water, and it helped shock my headache and grogginess out of my body.

"Jerome, are you still there?"

"Yes," I said, turning around and fumbling with my wristphone as I walked to the counter to place the glass down. The glass almost tipped down onto the floor, I just managed to catch it and place it closer to the middle of the table. "Yes, sorry, I got distracted."

"From the launch?" she questioned.

"No, not...that." I turned away from the table took a deep breath and let it escape like a smoker breathing out cigarette smoke. "Something important came up."

"Something more important than Titan?"

I looked over at Eugene. He had gotten a cigarette from somewhere and placed it in his mouth. He held it up with two fingers as he lit it. I watched as he breathed in the toxic fumes then removed the yellow-tipped cigarette, watching it fall upon his armrest with his hand. He breathed out slowly yet fully as if he were trying to blow away all of his breath. I watched as his abdomen contracted as seemingly nothing visible escaped his O-shaped mouth. Only when he drew in another breath did I answer.

"Yes."

"Well, has it been taken care of?" I could hear the impatience in her voice. Something I have not heard before. It wasn't bratty, no, it was sort of commanding, a voice that belonged to a leader.

"I'm not sure how long it will take to fix—I mean—resolve this."

I heard Irene sigh on the other side of the phone connection. "The launch can only be delayed two days, you know that, right?"

I knew that, but I didn't realize that she knew. I nodded. "Yes, but I don't think I can resolve this in that amount of time." I didn't know what I was saying, the words rushed out of my mouth like a waterfall. "I'll see what I can do."

I heard her sigh again. "I hope you know what you are doing. I trust you, Jerome." The familiar silence encased us, and I was about to end the call when Irene spoke, "Say, Jerome. Maybe I can help you figure out this problem. If you want, you can go to my house, and we can brainstorm ideas together."

"Oh," I said, my surprise apparent. "Umm, I guess I can do that, but I will have to bring Eu—Jerome."