What is the purpose of Life . . . . ?
It is deeply entrenched within the nature of Humanity to seek out that which makes us feel good, makes us whole, and gives our very existence meaning. However, before those highly aspiring goals can be achieved, we yearn for something much more basic and immediate. . . We yearn to be safe through shelter . . . to be filled with food and water . . . and . . . for many . . . to know why we must suffer.
Many times, I have struggled with my inner demons wondering why I have to continue living this way.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Half a century passes . . . a continent away . . . another young man begins his journey.
Present Day: May 19th Tuesday
Location: Saint Louis, Missouri USA
47 years following the official conclusion of World War III
I dream of a memory that has plagued me since that mistake in judgment I made years ago. It all started from when traveling together with my family to Hawaii. Beautiful trails, warm beaches, and excitement was in the air as my sister and I explored the island. Our parents, trusting in our personal judgement and safety, were off enjoying some personal time together.
However, that trust haunts me even today, as it was misplaced.
As my sister and I had been exploring a trail to a beautiful local waterfall, we came upon a split in the path. A wooden sign pointed further along the left path, showing a longer distance to reach the falls. The other far more indistinguishable path appeared to lead a more direct passage to the beckoning waters. It didn’t take much for my sister to convince me to follow her along that less traveled path, as it promised early rewards from a strenuous hike. Following along through increasingly denser vegetation, we came upon an alcove of sorts.
With a stone cliff overhanging a hidden jewel of greenery and crashing waters, we were stopped short by a single line of aged red tape blocking further access. *Hah! * I laughed at the simple absurdity of it being there. This was supposed to be an adventure to free oneself from the boring chains of life and responsibility. I had crossed many such flimsy barriers, be they physical or abstract in my personal life, with no notable repercussion to this day. This was done in order to enjoy the exciting fruits of the beyond, while giving the middle finger to overbearing officialdom.
A simple crossing of warning tape to explore a secluded cave with my younger sister seemed, and should have been, an innocent and yet exciting act. The cave itself was not deep and without any dangerous pits to fall into. The scenery had been beautiful with green lighting filtering through the hanging plant-life and the nearby waterfall. However, it was not the memories of exploring the cave that plagued me, but that which came after.
Some warning lines, when crossed, have little to no consequences. But others, in those rare cases where not even the creator of the line knows that which they protect, can become forbiddings of far greater magnitude.
.
.
Jerking awake I stare out into the dark sightless room and after taking a deep breath, a ragged sigh escapes my lips as a tiny shudder works its way down my back. In a desperate bid for finding comfort and reorienting myself, I swing my left hand out to the side and with a sigh of relief I feel the familiar shapes littered across my night stand. Fumbling around and searching by feel in the near perfect darkness, pushing away my phone, glasses, and keys while additionally knocking off my water bottle onto the floor with a muffled crash, I touch the rough edges of my salt lamp. A minor struggle takes place, as I debate between turning on the lamp versus staying immersed in darkness.
As my hand then leans upon the familiar shape of the remote to my stereo, a thought sparks in my mind. I choose to stay in the darkness. A smile unseen gently curled my lips as I found the correct tactile shape of the play button and pressed it. Sitting upright on my bed, the chill room air welcomes me as the heavy blankets fell away from my body. A soft ‘whirr’ is heard, but no light shines as I had long since covered up the LED display to block out the light of the audio player.
Except for the rare times that I have that nightmare, I love sleeping and waking in utter darkness, as it seems to hold no barriers to the power of imagination and a good night sleep.
Head bowed and waiting for the music to start, I hear the pumping of my blood in the deathly quiet before the storm. From the darkness that continues to surround me and from the brief stillness in the air, a series of tones breaks the silence. Starting off gently, it slowly grows in volume till becoming loud enough that the vibrations tickle the hairs on my arms. Ever progressing, it forms into an acoustic melody that tugs at my heart. I open myself up to the unique sensations that fill my body and the room, allowing it to wash away the fear and trepidation that had been plaguing my dreams. I was seeking for those feelings to be replaced with comfort and determination, . . . and it answered with abundance.
Chills and warmth, alternating and merging in a conflux rush through to fill me, starting from my shoulders and upper back, down my arms, up my neck, and down through the rest of my body. It wasn’t limited to following that pathway or pattern, but that was the norm unless I focused specifically on where I wanted the feelings to spread. I believe that my familiarity of it made it that much easier for me to reach for and experience those stirrings of energy within so intimately.
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Those feelings seem connected integrally to my state of mind and desire for solace, for renewed determination. It can differ in many ways depending on the situation and the emotions that I feel, but it always stems from the singular familiar sensation of an electrical, chilling, warming, tingling pleasure.
Sometimes however, the intensity of those feelings escalates to such a level that my nose starts to sting and I wonder if it is going to bleed. The stinging sensation appears much less frequently as time goes by, as if my body is becoming more accustomed to the waves of energy with each exposure. But even now, this energy is an enigma, I have yet to determine if it held any value beyond that which I felt within me. Was it something capable of more than just bringing peace to a troubled soul and guilty conscience?
The dream that has plagued me off and on for years now was based on a real-life occurrence that I am to blame for. I take full responsibility, for that is the job of being a big brother; To watch out for and protect your younger sister . . .. And I failed.
In the dream, I always find myself walking along sterilized hallways made up of steel and polished concrete, in the lowest level of an underground high-tech medical facility. One might think that this floor had been re-purposed from an initial storage unit, to a medical floor due to the influx of patients, but they would be wrong.
I had learned, from overhearing a private conversation between staff on this bottom unit, a terrifying truth about this place. From its conception, this floor, in fact this entire building, had been created for the singular purpose of containing those patients that were so virulent, so contagious with no hope of recovery, that the doctors needed the ability, in the potential case of contamination, to crush them under several thousand tons of rock and concrete even after cremation. This would be done in order to assure the prevention of their contagions spreading. I suspected that several hidden parts of the floor and support beams included strategically placed incendiary devices, should a breakout occur.
These patients were simply medical anomalies, which were being kept alive for the sole purpose of research and little to no hope of a cure. In rare cases, family would be allowed visitation rights, but those were very few and far between.
I recall in great clarity, the last time I went to see my sister before refusing to ever again return. Each patient had their own extremely secluded station that looked somewhat like a white, plastic, inflated igloo. Some of these igloos were far more removed from the others with additional precautions in place. As for my sister, four layers of thick plastic and glass separated us from her hospital bed. Each time they changed her sheets, the old sheets had to be incinerated in a sealed unit. Her nurses wore full body hazmat suits, and even then, provided care on the other side of a plastic barrier with thick gloved hands integrated with it.
In my dream, as I near her containment field, I peer through the somewhat opaque siding and see the terrible visage that is her life now. Peeling, mottled skin as white as snow, and a dark black network of veins come to view. Bandages and wrappings covered portions of her 12-year-old body, but from the edges of some of those coverings I could see what looked like white hamburger meat seeping out. I didn’t know if that was a poultice or her actual skin, but either way I felt my gorge rising and acid licking at my throat.
The only part that looked somewhat normal was her face which appeared to be simply sleeping. Her previously long gentle blonde hair that would reach beyond her shoulders, had been completely shaven, giving her the appearance of an ascetic monk. However, two convoluted metallic collars that lay in place around her neck, removed any notion of this being a simple meditation.
Tubes of colored liquid running from various machines disappeared into the many sockets of the over-sized lower necklace, while darker de-oxygenated blood was exchanged with fresh red blood from the upper collar. We had been previously informed by doctors that the heavy doses of antibiotics and other experimental liquids, were the only things preventing her full body infection, from progressing to her head and thus her brain. She was in a medically induced coma, and had been so since she was transported from Hawaii till now.
The best determination that they could make regarding her disease, was that it had some similarities to the slow acting and rare Mycobacterium Leprae or the disease better known as Leprosy. In this day in age, this disease had long been thought to be extinct, with ancient traces being restricted to specific island colonies. However, now, there was nothing slow or even extinct about this disease. It seemed like an advanced organism with a mind of its own, living off of the decaying flesh that is my sister, flaring up occasionally as it sought to fully convert her to its decrepit state.
The guilt tore at my heart as I watched what was once a beautiful and somewhat mischievous younger sibling, that had been full of life to be reduced to this pile of quivering flesh just barely hanging on to the last vestiges of her humanity. *Gahck!* I dry heaved and felt the stinging of tears pull at my eyes and dribble out my nose. I can almost hear her voice in my head so innocently asking me “Andrew, what happened? Where am I?”
No answer I could think of, was acceptable.
. . .
But here I was, in my bedroom listening to music to calm my rapidly beating heart. That experience in Hawaii 2 years ago, had altered the course of my studies and future passions, as I sought to correct the wrong which had happened. My original college major had been in architecture and structural engineering. I loved the massive and expansive structures of history and present time. To me, they exuded a majesty and offered a sense of safety and security in their form, while instilling beauty in the eyes of the beholder.
I sought to be known and remembered for recreating some of the structural marvels from history that had been destroyed by the tides of war. In addition, through computer software, I designed a few early-stage plans for unique structures never before seen. I even had a hobby of designing model sized buildings with scraps from the local hobby store and wood shop. Beside my desk lay a detailed model of what I planned for my dream home. Now however, I use it as a reminder of that which I could pursue only once I had cured my sister. Repairing the life shattering mistake that had occurred.
Originally, I had been lost as to how to go about dealing with and resolving the guilt. Computer technology, chemistry, and biological advancement had already reached incredible heights at the turn of this new Era. At the conclusion of WWIII a new global company had stolen the spotlight. Its CEO, a mysterious and reclusive man by the name of Naathan Gnosis, believed to originally be from India, had ushered in a new era of miracles. Millennial Enterprises was his company, and through their expansive research, they had conquered nearly all previously known diseases. Instead of lengthy stays with questionable outcomes, hospitals had become places of short-term treatment and full recovery. Since then, rarely was there ever a death not attributed to extreme physical trauma, penetrating brain injury, or old age.
Admittedly, this accomplishment of Millennial Enterprises did put out of business some rather large pharmaceutical firms and medical companies, which railed against its adoption into the USA. Their profit lines and jobs were threatened with extinction by this overwhelmingly effective new company. However, the additional promises and capability of clearing out the remaining dead spots of radiated dust from our shores, and rebuilding many life-saving utilities won over the public and relevant powers. This then led to a huge restructuring of health and medical coverage in development and progress.
With all this progress already made, and with so many other researchers on the job, how could I make a difference and hope to assist in curing my sister; someone whom even this advanced technology could not cure. When asked, the doctors and researchers begrudgingly stated that her disease was oddly resistant to modern day treatment methods, and even if I or my parents had the money, they were unable to stabilize her condition to the necessary degree to have a chance at a successful full body reconstruction, while preserving her brain.