Legacy

Colors and mayhem

Astor

In my new obsession with action, I went to work. My kitchen transformed into a makeshift laboratory a truly modest place compared to what he had been using. Still, it would do for now. The empty bottles of my shameful low were repurposed for a more sensible venture. The jar itself I kept hidden in the cupboard together with other containers to help it blend in. I felt confident that it was a matter of time before someone would come looking for it. I invested what funds I had to get the needed equipment. A microscope was of the essence to get a better view of the fungus. My excitement clouded my judgment, and in my fit of mania to solve this puzzle, I took less precaution than what one might consider wise. Without hesitation, I opened the jam jar and scooped up a small sample for my Petrie dish. I was careful using a spoon, and wearing gloves, but still too hasty I forgot to consider airborne contamination.

I labored hard, trying to get a better understanding of the white fur fungus I was examining. While I was noting down my findings, I found myself becoming dizzy. At first, I thought it was merely a lack of nutrition. Eating a tuna sandwich debunked that idea. Lightheaded, I lazed around in the armchair. I never did figure out a viable hypothesis for my ailment; reality disappeared too quickly on me for that. But my dreams, my dreams were strange. I was light. Floating around the kitchen, but it also hurts to visualize it. It was like I was Argos and saw the world through many eyes. The dust was a white winter landscape. But there was so much more and the colors were so vivid. Truly majestic. Yet, when I arose from my sleep, it faded. In my confused maniac, I wanted to draw some of these faded visions. Sadly my body was not ready for action, and I ended up tumbling to the floor instead. I found more rest there. And the dreams continued with all the stunning colors and sensations. It slips my mind how many times I fumbled about like that. A routine of brief awkward wakefulness followed by dreams. Surely my body was withering, but that was a faint problem. After all, the concerns of the awake are nothing to the sleeping. Honestly, I am confident that if not due to outside interference, I would never have awoken from my slumber. And I know I would have been more content that way, dare I even say happy. The dreams felt real more real than any waken reality could ever compare to, and the colors of the waking world will always be bleak to me now — a mockery of the truth of pure colors found in the dreaming.

"Is he dead?" the question was practically bellowed out.

No concern was spared for the suffering on the floor whose sense was being assaulted by the noise pollution. I weakly tried to respond but found my throat too dry. I repeatedly tried to plead to the person, who in turn, seemed utterly deaf to the fact I was awake and helplessly trying to make noise. Giving up on that angle, I gave some movement a try, but again my fleshy body failed me. I frailed, uselessly barely managing to move a finger. After another fruitless struggle, I gave up. There was no use getting this imbecile to catch on to the fact I was sadly still among the living. It was a humiliation just to lay there while the person made a clown of themselves. Finally, they stopped shouting. It was a blissful moment before they then decided to shake my fragile body in a display of the most one-sided wrestling match in the history of humankind. Of course, that was not a useful idea either, considering the now undeniable fact that I was too weak to speak and move. How I wish I could return to my dreams, but the constant commotion made rest difficult. Instead, I tried to distance myself from the stupidity going on by pondering who this person could even be. The family had never shared much love for me, which suited me fine. It was unlikely it could be a friend since I had few of those, again by choice, since I value quality over quantity. Besides, I am a busy person, so keeping up with a lot of close relationships was not going to be possible. A thief seemed absurd because why would they waste their time like this when they could loot the house instead. A debtor, perhaps? No reasonable explanation came to mind. Luckily the person seemed to have given up on their silly behavior. My next waking moment found me in a white room. The bed was unpleasant and was currently competing with my floor as the worst sleeping spot ever. Otherwise, the arrangement suited me fine. It was with little surprise I saw a nurse enter the room.

"You have been sleeping for two days now. The person who brought you here thought you were dead at first," she calmly explained.

I gave a pathetic nod in response.

"Also, you have a visitor who would like to see you. Do you feel ready to have a visitor?" she asked.

No, was the answer. In my mind, I dreaded the idea of having to do any unnecessary human contact in my bed-ridden state. On the other hand, I could not deny it piqued my interest to find out who the visitor was. Ultimately the decision was taken out of my hands. A person busted into the room, leaving the nurse to dodge around the person nimbly. It was such a rude display I was momentarily stunned. I was saved from having to comment on the behavior as the nurse did it for me.

"You do know this is a hospital. And that you do not just visit patients' rooms as you please. I told you to wait outside, and if you cannot follow the rules of the hospital, then you will have to leave," she lectured.

The newcomer replied coly: "I am here on the order of the Ministry of Scientific Concerns, and I will not let my work be delayed due to a stuck-up nurse."

The nurse gave the man a sour look before leaving. As she closed the door, I found myself stuck in a room with a predator. He lazily sat down on the bed frame, taking out a stack of messily folded papers from his inner pocket.

"Your illegally gotten scientific research has been confiscated together with your notes. If you do not want any trouble, then I suggest you read these papers and sign them" carelessly the man threw the papers down on the bed. "Oh, and the deadline for that is in about seven days. It is expected you send your answer with the mail to the ministry."

Seeming to be done with the job, he then left. Leaving me to stare at the paper stack in numb horror.