Legacy

Righteous rage

Astor

Thieves blasted thieves the Ministery of Scientific Concerns is. I swear they have never done any research because they steal all their findings from the real scientists, as he had been. These fakers had nothing they could be proud of, making their smug arrogance ever more insulting. My hospital visit was very stressful after that. I conquered page after page in that stack, and still, there were more. It was so like this ministry to throw a bunch of legal works on a sick man. The nurse did her best to help me, but she was no lawyer; still, it was kind of her to give me the peace and lighting needed to get the stack. The reading was depressing; they had claimed all my work even threatening nasty legal consequences if I did not roll over for their demands. With all the debt racked up for the project we did together, there was no way I could afford a lawyer for this mess. The frustration got to me. I was but a mere man being strangled by a corrupt system that had no regard for a person's right to dignity. The unholy rage came back, and with no other purpose to distract me from it, I let it fester. I bitterly had to admit defeat and sign the papers. My hands were shaking in anger as I did the deed. The nurse, miss Shine, helped me get the signed document sent to the ministry. All I could do was watch her leave while I was remaining bedridden. It was the anger that got me out of that bed. Curse be whatever ailment I was suffering from, I had no time for such a thing. Not many things could get a man going, such as personal injustice. In mere days after I signed the papers, I demanded to be let out, and while hesitant, my demand was met. Miss Shine gave me the medicine I had to take to keep the fungus infection down.

"I urge you to reconsider your choice here. We are not certain we have identified the infection correctly, and you will be very vulnerable at home," she pleaded with me.

Her concerns were meant to be professional, but over my stay here, I knew how much of a kind soul she was. It was hard, but I had to stand my ground: "I am sorry miss Shine, but I have urgent matters to attend to, and quite frankly, I do not feel sick at all anymore. Of course, I will come back if something concerning were to happen, but I must leave"

The walk home was challenging; I could barely move correctly as my body had rusted from a lack of use. My garments were worn, and the combined image I gave off was that of a drunken homeless man. But pressed on, I did. No, I did not look like much, but my determination had never been stronger. Predictably my home was robbed of any of my research. Not that one could report this theft since it was the government itself who was stealing. I was fuming. This injustice could not go unpunished, but how was a lesser man like me to do anything. It was maddening.

My fever had gotten worse in the weeks that followed. My complexion was that of a hospital sheet. And all the sensations were too sharp. I could hear the people on the street, the cockroaches in the basement, and worst of all, my heartbeat. It was like a military drum, never stopping its march. My righteous crusade had been crushed before it even started because just staying in my apartment was overwhelming. Dreams and reality bleed together. I found myself as Argos again entirely drained by all the information my brain was trying to take in. My solution was to blindfold myself and put on the recorder so the loud music could drown out some of the noise. It helped somewhat, but the feeling of touch kept putting me on edge. I was hyper-aware of every fold and layer of dust on my armchair. The awareness of just how alive my surroundings were even in just this chair left me itchy. As a man of science, I, of course, am aware of smaller lifeforms than what the naked eye can perceive. Still, one thing is knowing about them and looking at them under a microscope from time to time. Another is to be painfully aware of them all the time. That night I dreamt of a most vivid dream yet. It was not the sights, feelings, or sounds that made it special. Instead, I felt observed, and dare I say judged. No verbal comments of displeasure were uttered, but that was indeed what it was. I needed to defend myself from this non-verbal judgment, but speech appeared impossible. All I could muster was the emotion of mild anger. First I got no reply, but then it spoke to me. Or well spoke might be the wrong phrase more like communicated. It showed me visions. Suddenly I was in a foreign environment floating softly. At first, I could not make head or tails of what I experienced until the world flipped on me, and then I realized that I was in a laboratory, a huge one filled with people. They seemed to be doing some tests. I observed them curiously, and then it slowly hit me. Those notes were my notes; this was where my findings had ended up. I turned my full focus on my surroundings, committing them to memory. Besides looking at physical space, I also took note of the people present — anything from mannerisms to birthmarks carefully observed. My intense focus seemed to be acknowledged by it. Together we made field observations of everything we could pick up on. It was exhilarating. I had a lead now. These thieves were not going to get away with this, and I now had enough information to get back at them. A plan was formulated in my head; I merely had to put it into action. For once, the world felt right.