Timothy's Break, Or the Modern Thanatos

If you have read any of my other posts, you might be surpised to learn that I am in fact an aspiring author. So, I bring you something I hope you will enjoy.

Mind the errors. I did this shotgun style. This is subject to further editing, but I just couldn't wait to get it out there:

Hear me, O Death, whose empire unconfin'd

extends to mortal tribes of ev'ry kind.

On thee, the portion of our time depends,

whose absence lengthens life, whose presence ends.

The nightmares still haunt me, nearly three hundred years after I took it too far. Three hundred years. Yes, I wrote that correctly. You might be surprised to learn that I, above and beyond all of the geniuses of science, found a way to live forever. Well, not necessarily forever. The universe will eventually run down and become a lifeless and cold husk of its former self, strewn with black dwarfs and black holes. At that time, I will still exist, but will likely be floating through the endless void of space, unaware of anything, in perfect stasis. Thermodynamics be damned. But I digress. I needn’t worry about that eventual fate for oh, probably several trillion years or more. In other words, I have time. Whether I like it or not.

As I’m sitting now, I’m looking across the tarnished landscape that my height affords me. Mount Rainier is the third highest mountain in the United States. Well, in the land formerly known as the United States. The elevation and wind patterns here keep me from feeling the effects of the fallout.

I anticipate your questions, esteemed reader. Wait a minute, Why would I try and avoid the fallout if I’m effectively immortal? Despite my immutable form, I am still subject to experiencing the maladies of the average human. Radiation can still make me sick. Incapacitated life is not a life to live, unfortunately. On the bright side, I am much hardier to temperature and pressure changes. You wouldn’t believe how much experimentation it took to figure that out.

Right, far too much information without some proper context. My name is Timothy Mcbride. Born and raised in a little area known as Texas. Science, both fact and fiction captivated me as a child. I remember watching Star Trek with my uncle, my childhood inundated with fantasies of space travel and aliens. I did exceptionally well in school, and eventually pursued a degree in biochemistry at UT Austin. Above and beyond all other disciplines, I found my calling in the subtle and seamless orchestra of chemical interactions in our organs, our cells, and our DNA. Somewhere deep within the fundamental pieces of our universe, life emerged as a result of these small bits and pieces. Furthermore, these interactions made us what we are. Our minds, our bodies. Our longevity. Do you see it now? The key to continuing upon the mortal coil of human existence was in the chemistry. That seamless orchestra.

I studied with the fervor of a madman. My peers and my professors were in awe at my understanding of metabolic pathways, protein formation, the processes of telomere shortening and lengthening. By my fourth year of undergraduate education, I had participated in the publishing of no less than fifteen papers on these subjects. I was a shining star and a promising graduate career was inevitable.

Alas, fate, the universe or whatever enigmatic powers that be had other plans. And it began the second year into my PhD program. Her name was Camilla. What an odd name when I think of it. You don’t hear it very often. She was unique, a woman that despite my aloof nature and busy schedule had somehow decided to pursue me. I would later learn that this was unusual behavior; I never quite caught on the the subtleties of other people. She would catch up with me while I walked between classrooms. She would friend me on social media and send me messages asking how my day was. She was persistent, but not in a bad way like some might think. It surprises me in hindsight that I didn’t perceive her a stalker. She was endearingly beautiful, and that likely helped to assuage any fears of being the subject of an unhealthy obsession. Despite my dedication to the discipline, I am not an alien or some sort of emotionless monster. I found quickly that I wanted her for my own, something that I could classify in my life as “normal”. One day, while Camilla walked with me to my office, I stopped in my tracks, and looked ahead. I was about to do something I never had the audacity to do before.

“Timmy, are you alright?” she asked.

I gulped, feeling nervous while simultaneously annoyed. I hated it, but I tolerated that infernal nickname only from her. I had never actually asked a woman out before. Against my better nature, I failed to research the issue in time. However, I knew if I kept staring forward any longer, She would likely become distressed. Maybe confused.

I slowly turned and looked into her wide, blue eyes. Her face was round, and well shaped. That sounds ridiculous as I write it. But that’s the only way I know how to express it. Her face was something that ineffably attracted me.

Her lips turned up into a great toothy smile. “What’s up with you today?” she asked.

I opened my mouth, then closed it. I forced my lips to form words through my paralyzing anxiety.

“Camilla… I uh… like you a lot…”

She smiled even brighter and took a step closer. “Oh really?”

Her positive response steeled me. At the time, the relative uncertainty of the situation had me nearly shaking. A thousand doubts and few encouragements coursed through my mind in an instant. I decided to be bold and took a step closer to her.

“I assume, judging on your behavior the past two months… you feel the same.”

Her countenance glowed with affection. “What possibly gave you that idea?”

“I’m not sure really. Sorry I brought it up-”

“Yes.” Camilla said, “I return your feelings.”

Right. Sarcasm. Thank God, I thought. I hadn’t made a fool of myself by committing some obscure social faux pas.

I felt an odd shift in my mind as the anxiety of rejection turned into the less excruciating but equally terrifying anxiety of getting close to somebody. I slowly placed a hand on her shoulder. Her smaller frame gave slightly to my touch, and I could see her breathe ever so slightly faster.

“Then maybe you’d like to go out-”

She leaned in fast and pressed her lips to mine with a fervor I had never expected anyone to feel toward me. My mind melted in lockstep with my body into hers, feeling a euphoria I had never experienced in my life. For the slightest amount of time, I forgot about my life’s work. I forgot about my clandestine goals. I stopped completely and felt the cool winter air upon my face, warmed by her immediate presence. This woman meant everything to me.

We carried on, going to movies, and dinners. We shared each other’s lamentations as well as our triumphs in life. We finally became intimate, and I grew more attached to her than I could possibly imagine. Just as I felt better than I ever have in my life, things took a completely unexpected course.

I had worked long and hard on a research path that I was certain would open up a world of results and applications. I was almost certainly on the precipice of a breakthrough! The machinery of life, like everything else was subject to entropy, and the ultimate goal was to prevent that specter of Death from affecting those crucial intricacies. It’s far more complicated than that, mind, but suffice it to say this serves as a proficient explanation. But it was wrong somehow. The numbers didn’t add up, though they most certainly should have. All experiments performed on the mice test subjects gave a null result or thoroughly ended them. How? Why? I had no idea.

My fascination with the project slowly evolved into a morbid obsession. I approached it from every angle and ran every possible computer simulation. I worked long hours into the early morning on most nights, forgetting about sleep and making calls home to Camilla. The chalk boards were nearly white with calculations and chemical pathways. Some of the research led me into the foundations of quantum interactions between molecules and their net effect. My mind reeled, and one night, due to exhaustion I passed out. I awoke in what felt like an instant, bleary eyed and with a pounding headache.

Through my blurry vision I saw someone standing over me. It was a man. I couldn’t make out his features, but I could tell he was wearing all black. He was a living shadow in stark contrast to the bright fluorescent lighting of my office.

“Timothy, I’m quite impressed with your work.”

I rubbed my eyes frantically, pulling myself from the floor. My vision cleared and focused upon the face of my guest. His eyes were sunken, his cheekbones visible through thin pale skin that made him look nearly skeletal. His jet black hair was parted fashionably, complemented by an immaculate three piece suit that - as my blurry vision earlier suggested - was all black.

He watched me patiently as I composed myself. “Who… are you?”

The man chuckled slightly, and turned to look at my blackboard. “Oh, just an admirer of your your research. Engineered negligible senescence is your specialty, correct? The field is… tangentially related to my industry.”

“And what is it that you do?”

He continued inspecting the blackboard, ignoring my question. “My favorite uh, ‘term of art’ in your published works is how you refer to entropy. It really is the Specter of Death, isn’t it?”

I stretched my neck slightly, working out a crick that worked its way in during my time on the floor. “Out of order comes disorder. All of aging is reducible to that, but it’s nothing more than a metaphor.” I said.

The man laughed heavily, in an almost undignified manner. “Of course it is Timothy! Artistic, nonetheless. What if I told you I had a very personal interest in your work, and that I am a man that has the capability to generously finance your endeavors?”

That last part caught my attention. Money had been the largest roadblock to realizing some of my more ambitious experiments. Despite all the prestige I had garnered for myself, getting my research paid for was the thorn in my side. There was so much red tape, grant proposals, and rubbing shoulders with troglodytes who only had an interest in anything that would inflate their egos. If their name wasn’t on a building or a plaque, they cared little for it.

I had thought the prospect of life extension would be more appealing. However, my research until that point was nothing more than long term goals, things that would take time to see real results. The ironic thing is, those who hold the power to get things done often have a foresight that ends at the tip of their nose.

I studied the man closely for a moment, considering. “You have my attention, clearly. What do you stand to gain from it? Well, besides the obvious?”

The dark suited man looked hard at me. “Death has for all of human history, been a part of life. The cycle continues generation after generation. It is the works of humanity that have finally come close to seeing that the cycle is broken! Your ideas are severely overlooked and I believe that is in no small part to your… asocial proclivities.”

I would have felt indignant if I what he said wasn’t true. “Well, those who have the money lack the vision. It is difficult to explain to them.”

The man smiled. “That is where I differ, young man. I want to be a part of something revolutionary, even if I’m merely the man behind the curtain! I have searched long and hard for someone like you Timothy.”

His demeanor was strangely disarming. Despite my inquisitive and often skeptical nature, I found myself falling for it.

“What do I have to do?”

The man walked toward me and offered his hand. “I hear in Texas, custom dictates that two folks seal a deal with a handshake. I’ll take care of the funds, you won’t go hungry and you’ll have every scientific device needed at your disposal.”

This was a deal of a lifetime. I took his hand in mine. His grip was cold, and strong. That should have been my first warning.

He released my hand and walked towards my office door. As he opened it, I heard him say, “See you on the other side, Timmy.”

“What did you-”

My eyes turned away for an instant, and he was gone. I thought for a moment that I had dreamed the whole thing up. I thought I must have been hallucinating. It is very much a rare thing to see

Over the next several months, I saw that my mysterious benefactor was indeed more than some exhaustion inspired figment of my imagination. My bank account was replenished weekly with twice my normal salary. How he got my information was beyond me, but in my astonishment, I failed to question such minutiae. It seemed every month, he somehow anticipated my needs. A new Raman Spectroscopy device, test tubes and other fine accoutrements necessary for a functioning lab.

Despite having the best equipment a scientist could ask for, I found that my researched twisted and turned and inevitably found its way back to a dead end. It was as if I was climbing a mountain, and just as I pulled myself over the edge to flat ground, another mountain was placed before me. It almost seemed like things were going in circles. My mind reeled at the the effort, and desperation transformed into anger. One night, after a particularly arduous direction led nowhere, I swept across desk in an uncharacteristic rage, breaking glass and shattering samples.

Then there was a knock at the door, then Camilla’s sweet face showed from outside. My anger was quenched in an instant.

“Timmy, is this a bad time? I was worried for you.”

“I’m fine my love,” I lied, “just slipped. What are you doing at the lab so late?”

She looked unconvinced. “Just wanted to see if you were hungry, maybe we could go out?”

As my heartbeat settled, I realized that I actually hadn’t eaten in a day or two.

I looked around my lab and then smiled at Camilla. “Of course, dear. I’m sorry, I have neglected you for far too long. We can get dinner, but I have an idea. Why don’t I take a week off so we take a small trip someplace?”

I scarcely believed that my benefactor would be upset if I took some time off. In hindsight, I think that’s exactly what he wanted.

Camilla and I took a flight to Cozumel. She wanted to go there for a long time, and her eyes lit up when I told her. Warm beaches, water as far as the eye could see. Even a workaholic like myself felt solace in the bright Mexican sun.

A couple days into our trip, I took Camilla to a bazaar in a nearby village, not far from the city. She had pleaded with me to go there and as per the usual, I’d never imagine telling my love no. In the village, Trinkets of every type lined the main thoroughfare. Sombreros, little guitars and other tourist related wares were peddled by the locals. It was definitely different; the cornucopia of colors and sounds stood in stark contrast to my customary artificial lighting and chalk dust. I felt relaxed for the first time in what must have been years. As we walked to the village square, a small booth caught my eye. There was an old Mestizo woman sitting in front of a table. Marionettes of human skeletons rested on either side, crafted in appearance of the iconic art seen during the yearly Dias de las Muertos festivals. Among other items rested a thick weathered book.

Naturally I picked it up and immediately noticed that is felt heavy in my hands, far beyond that which it should have been. It was bound in a dark leather, and the cover had nothing upon it except what looked like a structural formula for some organic compound. I did a double take. That was definitely the formula for…

“Adenosine Triphosphate” My mouth said. The molecule of energy used in cells.

I opened the book, and was met with gibberish. Someone had scribbled various things that on the surface looked like metabolic pathways, but it was nothing I had ever seen before. I flipped through the pages and was met with things vaguely resembling religious iconography, pentagrams, and symbols that looked like nordic runes. My interest nearly faded and as I moved to set the book on the table, my eyes caught something.

Equations for the very fundamental quantum interactions I was researching.

I froze. Somewhere in the back of my mind I felt a sickening affinity for this book. It was something I wanted. Something I needed.

“What did you find?” Camilla asked.

I snapped the book shut. I felt paranoid. I knew that she should not know what this is.

“Ah, it looks like an old university textbook for organic chemistry. Pretty cool! Can’t read the Spanish but I think I’ll buy it for my collection.”

Camilla smiled warmly. “A thousand miles from home and you still find a science book!”

I returned her smile. “You know me love, it’s always in the background.”

Satisfied, her attention caught something on an adjacent table and I turned to the old lady. I rifled through the files of my mind and returned with some seldom used Spanish.

“Uh… Cuanto Cuesta?”

She looked up at me with scarred, milky eyes. “Take it. He will compensate me.”

Startled, I stepped back, nearly knocking over a table behind me.

“Ex..Excuse me?” I asked.

The frail woman struggled to stand with her cane, turned her back to me and walked into the shack directly behind her. Unnerved, but grateful to have my book, I caught up with Camilla and wrapped my arm around her..

As we came home and life again returned us to its banal routines, I spared every waking moment I could reading through the text. I couldn’t get enough of it. Though my scientific mind saw nothing but nonsense, I felt the wisdom that this book exuded. Every page was a cavalcade of realization. I saw where I had gone wrong the entire time! The physical science was merely a tiny facet of the problem at large. Beyond my quant little equations was a world of profound understanding that my closed mind never tried to grasp.

Camilla had become increasingly worried. I ate little, and slept even less. I spent far too much time at the lab. I went days without saying anything to her beyond “Good morning” as I poured through the enigmatic words. I became thinner than I was usually accustomed to, and my skin turned lighter as my sun deprived body changed.

In a gleaming moment it all made sense.

I heard a shrill female voice and blinding lights engulfed my vision. “TIMOTHY!”

Startled, I looked up from my book. I was on the floor in the corner of the lab. Camilla was standing at the entrance of the lab, looking around in disgust and in sheer terror.

“My love-”

“What the hell is happening to you?” She pointed to one of the walls. There was a mess of symbols that I recognized as something… alchemical? It made no sense in that moment. My attention was squarely on her. “What is all of this?”

She was nearly to tears. I had to do something. I knew she wouldn’t understand. I had to do something. I pulled myself up from the floor and came toward her. I was telling her about how what we call supernatural and natural are but two sides of the same coin, something about how energy could never be created or destroyed. All transforms, and all transformations required sacrifice. She looked increasingly terrified as I approached her. She would never understand what I needed to do. In order transcend that dreaded Specter of Death, there had to be sacrifice.

I don’t remember much after that. When I sleep - if what I do can be called “sleep” - I see flashes of memory. My hands around her tiny throat. Blood painted on the walls. On my hands. On my face.

It must have been hours later when I finally clearly beheld the horror I had committed. There she was, her round beautiful face, neck contorted in an unnatural position. Her naked body had a waxy pallor, her midsection eviscerated. Symbols upon symbols drawn in caked blood surrounded her lifeless body.

I think I cried, or maybe I was simply too numb from the experience to have any outward show of emotion. I didn’t want to live without her. For all the time I spent striving towards preserving human life, I no longer wanted any part of it. I ran to the roof of the building where my lab was housed. Five stories high, I wagered that it would be enough. This was the atonement for my crimes. I stepped onto the ledge and looked down. The vertigo and involuntary survival response filled my veins with a cold adrenaline. Ignoring it, I closed my eyes and let myself fall.

If you are still with me at this point. I have a question for you. Ever been under anesthesia? It deadens the mind so much that even unconscious awareness is dulled to the point that our ability to keep track of time is shut down. With a snap of a finger, you fall asleep and awaken with hours passed, asking if the surgeons have started yet. It makes me think that if I were to truly die, the trillions of years until the universe ran through its motions would pass within an instantaneous moment, were I fated to awaken once again. In some fashion, my ultimate fate could be something like that, when whatever eldritch machinations that steer the cosmos to its inevitable ends makes conditions such that I can finally resume consciousness. Honestly, I think eternal oblivion would be the better option.

My first memories after falling was cold. Bitter, deep cold that I have never felt before. I heard the sound of metal screeched in my ears and light came to my vision as I was pulled forward. Someone was standing over me.

“Congratulations, Timmy. You’ve made it.”

I tried to sit up but a thin hand kept me down.

“Not so fast, you’ve been through one hell of an ordeal.”

My eyes resolved and I saw the man. My benefactor. He smiled at me wider than I thought possible. That neatly parted hair. That perfect black suit.

“Wha… Camilla…”

The man laughed. “A very unfortunate loss on your part. But to meet your goal, it was necessary.”

For a split second I thought it was a dream. My loss bubbled up from me and I felt tears stream down my face. I sobbed wretchedly. He ignored it.

“I didn’t lie to you when I said I was interested in your work, but not in the way you thought. It would have kept me from mine and I can’t have that.”

“Who…”

“Ah yes, I never told you my name. Through your flowery language that I so loved, you know me as Entropy.”

I was far too delirious to understand what he meant. He continued on.

“You see, Your fervent goals would have kept me from mine. I couldn’t have that, Timmy,” He tsked a few times, “Not at all.”

I shifted my weight on the cold steel. “Bastard…”

A mock frown played about his face. “Oh come now, after all I did for you? You’re free! My presence shall no longer be a thorn in your side.”

“Go… to hell…”

The Specter of Death laughed. “Oh if only I could. Then again, looking at you right now, I think that place is probably closer than you think!”

My breathing became less labored, and I coughed several times, bringing oxygen and warmth to my extremities.

“I’m running out of time, and I have another great adventure to attend, so let me tell you about yours. You will live. You will not die. All in accordance to your grand plan. And all it took was for you to sacrifice everything.”

“Why are you doing… this?” I said.

“Because I hold open the door for others. And you tried to kick my foot out of the way. Your hubris really pissed me off, Timmy.”

I tried to say something, but I couldn’t. He leaned over me, applying more pressure to my chest. His face leaned in,  inches from mine.

“Good Luck. And you might want to get out of this morgue before somebody sees you. But give it time and they probably won’t matter anymore. I looked ahead and whew! Things look bad. I have a lot of work ahead of me.”

The pressure on my chest vanished and I was alone.

I never saw Death again. And never will.