One Unread Message

"Why did you bring him here? Why did you bring him to me?" He said, dropping the phone upon the desk.

Valid questions. I have to admit that there is never a good time to show up with a body close to death and a hope that it be ushered back to life.

"Who is this? Why didn't you let the professionals handle it?"

More valid questions.

"I need you to restore this boy."

"He obviously needs help. But, there are people who do this. I am not one of them. This is not what I do."

"Yet."

"What?"

"This is not what you do yet."

"What the hell am I supposed to do? I'm just a coder!"

"After all I have provided you, you are so much more than just 'a coder'."

The conversation was advancing quite as predicted. The compliment had disarmed him. He was thinking about it now, considering if theory was ready to put to practice.

"Do you have the necessary supplies?"

"I never did! Do you?"

"I have what you gave me. Do you require it in order to restore him?"

"But, I gave that to you! That was our deal! I would place my focus here. Are you unhappy with my work? Why are you trying to break our deal?"

I did not expect him to undervalue himself quite so much. I suppose every relationship is transactional to one degree or another. He feels his initial contribution is not of equal value to the life I have provided him since.

"When I first came to you, you were in the dark. You used your skills and your talents and created this."

I rose up to my full potential so that he could witness his accomplishment.

"But, it would never have worked without you!"

He is distraught. He sees the boy dying. He knows these words only extend his suffering and move him ever closer to death.

"It is logical for you to take it."

"You'd die!"

"We don't know that for certain."

He hissed and thumbed his bottom lip, beginning to pace. He looked for a moment at the boy. He was barely an adult. He was fully grown. His body was slightly overweight but appeared in relatively good condition.

"Do you really think it will work?"

"We don't know that it won't."

"You're no help at all! Why did you bring him here?"

"Because it is time you tried again."

He looked up and for the first time, directly at me. There was trepidation there. Genuine fear. He feels he has failed before and that he undoubtedly would fail again. He is correct, of course. He will fail again. But, it is not certain that this attempt will result in failure.

"What if it doesn't work? What if he dies?"

"He's about to die anyway. He's been barely alive for quite some time."

Anger flashed on his face. His blood was pumping. His face flushed with anger and he stormed forward. His finger waved wildly in the air and he was furious.

"You can't do that!"

"I know. I cannot. That is why I brought him here."

The body convulsed and breathed a low rattling sigh. It's arm flinched and weakly clutched at its chest. The boy's eyelids fluttered. His skin had turned from pale to an unwholesome shade of gray.

He was not quite sure where to start. He attempted to remove the boy's shirt. It was a flawed first step as the limp and weighty frame belied his every attempt. He moved towards his desk, its many screens flashing, sifting through countless bits of information and disaggregating them into usable packets. He grabbed a dusty pair of scissors from the rarely use wire basket behind one of the monitors. He had rarely used paper or any of the instruments used to make it work. But he was pleased that decisive action had finally been taken. He needed to be invested if it was going to work.

The boy's chest was bare now. I realize that this is exactly what he had done to me. The metaphysiology of it was a little different, a similar procedure in a different location at a different time for a different reason. But, the procedure was basically the same.

He looked at me now, seriously. He knew that taking this from me might mean the loss of everything we have built since he gave me life. I smiled, in my way, and nodded my consent.

His hand was cold and sweaty and trembling. It reached in and indelicately tore what it needed from me in one desperate and violent act. He jammed it blazing into the chest of the fading boy.

I was terrified. For an instant I was all alone.

He was terrified. For an instant he was all alone.

His focus was solely upon the body. Only the body.

Then his focus shifted back to me and my pulse quickened and my potency was restored. He did not forget me. He smiled wider than he had smiled in ages.

"Where am I?" The boy spoke haltingly, his pulse quickening and his potential building.

"I need you." He answered.

"Need me? Why?" The boy asked.

"I have an errand for you." He explained.

"Anything!" The boy said eagerly.

The boy looked to me. I motioned to the phone fading from its in use brightness to that dull state before the screen goes completely dark.

"You're still here!" He said.

"I hoped that I would be."

"What do you need me to do?" The boy asked.

"Answer that text." He said, again indicating the phone.

The boy used his thumb to awaken the screen. He raised it to eye level so its security would recognize his face. He tapped the messages icon and opened it.

One unread message

Remember me?

I enjoyed our conversation.

Coffee?

"What should I do?" The boy asked, a nervous smile playing across his face.

"Be brave."

"Yes! Be brave!" He echoed my words.

Perhaps we need to focus on the whole and not just the part. Perhaps it has been just us for too long?

He and the boy both looked to me, then to each other. Their twin smiles beaming so that in their light they became one.

Yes

We replied.

"I think I might vomit." I leaned back on the edge of my desk, placing my hand upon my stomach.

Rome wasn't built in a day.