“It’s not like I want to die or anything…” I said, almost believing it as I forced a smile that stopped short of my eyes. The strange man, who had appeared suddenly at the open door to my hospital room before politely inviting himself inside, said nothing. He only sighed, a long knowing breath,

"No, you don't… but you will, won't you?" he said softly, as a matter of fact. He held no joy in his knowledge of this fact, only pity. It was my turn to sigh, knowing the truth in those words... “Will you join me?” he asked.

…

“But, why me?” I asked dejected, IV jutting from my arm, a knot growing unbearably large in my throat. “Why you?” the man who had introduced himself to me as Thomas Kane Wilbur, or T.K. as he said he preferred, sucked his teeth, “To what–or to whom–do you pose that question, Mr. Alder?” he sounded genuinely curious,

“Why did the cancer spread to your lungs? Why did it metastasize in the first place? Why does your body betray you? Such a young man, how predictably cruel the world can be.”

“But that's too easy, isn't it, Mr. Alder? An evil against which you are unequivocally the victim. Oh, the shame.”

The man took a long, singular step towards the hospital bed, toward me. His wide gait just beyond normal. A bald man of about forty, he was dressed plainly in a grey sweater and dark blue slacks. From where I sat, nothing about the man’s physique or demeanor posed a threat. Still, my heart raced. A hospital lanyard hung around a well-tanned neck that contrasted starkly with the dark circles framing emerald green eyes. There was no picture, no ID, simply a word written in black marker, “guest”. It had slipped my mind in all the confusion, but I'd remember later– I hadn't approved any guests.

“–Or perhaps you're wondering why you're all alone here, Mr. Alder? I certainly admit to a passing curiosity." He said, eyeing me.

"Where's your family? Your friends? A lover? Have they all abandoned you, or you––them?”

The lump in my throat turned red hot, and I opened my mouth to speak, only to meet the provocation with a hacking cough that shuttered through my body. My breath caught in my throat as all the emotions his prodding had conjured, unable to find a foothold in my ailing body, faded in frustration.

A paper cup appeared as I fought to regain my breath, chin coated in spittle; he offered me a cup of water, a small mercy…I took it.

“I mean, why are you here?" I composed myself enough to ask him that much between a breath and another sip of the cool water. “Oh? That’s all?” He said, eyes darting to the mess of medical equipment whirring softly beside me.

“I thought it obvious–as I’ve already made my preliminary offer–I am here for you, Brandon. I am here to offer you a chance at life, at a new life.”

“–But what does that mean?” I hadn’t meant to speak; the words came before I could stifle my curiosity, or was it fear? “Who are you? Who are you with? What do you want with me?” Why, why, why me? The questions came like rain. All the while, T.K., the odd man who had appeared suddenly in my midst, simply waited with inscrutable gaze. As my ramblings grew more tumultuous, I ran out of steam, the dam broke, and I wept.

***

A soggy paper plate with old, microwaved pizza sat cooling on the coffee table. I couldn't bring myself to eat; seemed a burden…

“If you find yourself with the strength to grasp the only outstretched hand, my door will remain open. Until the time you are able to take it, or if you never are, I wish you naught but peace…

T.K.”

I flipped the plain business card over; the man had left without another word sometime after I had managed to stop crying. He must’ve known I’d had enough, though he did stay till the end. Silently watching as I bawled my eyes out like a slighted child. After that, I had finished my treatment in silence and nodded once to the nurse who–bless her heart–attempted to strike up a friendly conversation with me. She knew I was alone, that's all it was. The train had been mercifully sparse on the way home, carrying me home as the streetlights flickered on and the city around the bay started to glow in the night.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

On the other side of the card was an address and nothing else. No name, phone number, or identifying information. “I am here for you…” the words echoed in my head. I folded the card in half, set it on the table, collapsed on the couch, and went to sleep.

***

Three days, I made it three days before I found myself in an Uber headed towards a business park in Silicone City. It was a slow drive. This was a bad idea; I could just feel it. Something was about to go horribly wrong– "Going for an interview?”

“Huh?” I asked, ripped unexpectedly from my panic-filled musings. The driver repeated himself, peering at me through the mirror, “Are you headed for an interview?”

“Oh…” I had forgotten I dressed in business casual…The truth was, I didn't know what was in store for me. "Yeah, something like that." I said, watching the world roll by. "Well, hey, good luck, man. Try and lighten up. Whatever happens, you'll always have tomorrow."

It looked like just a regular warehouse, a large rectangular, single-story building with a glass façade. At the corner of the building, two metal picnic tables and a trashcan sat bolted to a concrete pad next to the entrance. The driver let me out there, and I thanked him softly. He didn't say much in reply, pulling away from the curb slowly. I still felt his eyes as I opened the door and went inside.

There was a small office just inside the double doors next to the smoking area. An empty receptionist desk sat in the center of the room before another door, flanked by two ferns that waved softly with the air conditioning. I took a step further inside, “Uh-hello? My name’s Brandon, and I, uh– “

A clunk sounded from somewhere, and the opposite door opened slowly, “Mr. Alder, please, join me, let’s talk.” I recognized the voice instantly…

T.K.’s office was sparsely decorated, a corner desk with a chair and a laptop. The office didn't look lived in. It lacked the soul, the noise, and even the smell of human occupation. Only a small, maybe ten centimeters tall, statuette of a man sat at the corner of the desk.

“So, I take it you’ve accepted my offer?” he said as I settled into the chair opposite him. In truth, I hadn’t, “I just wanted to know more." I said, meeting his gaze the best I could manage. Something about him gave me a sense of unease. As he watched me, I noticed. His eyes seemed to precede my own movements, as if perfectly predicting what I would do.

He squinted, “Tell me something, Brandon…” he said, saying my first name for the first time.

"Okay...?" I agreed tentatively. "If you had an entire galaxy at your fingertips, what would you do?"

…

I sat in the chair, staring at the man. I blinked, “I’m sorry? I don't understand the question…"

“Really? It’s quite simple.” The shadow of a smile flashed across his face, “–Suppose the ravaging of cancer could be undone, and suppose you held the key to a truly limitless destiny…What doors would you unlock?”

I was silent for a long moment. What was that question? A thought experiment? It was a difficult enough idea to conceptualize, let alone form a coherent reply. Being healthy again, being free to do as I please? Such a thing seemed too remote to even be considered a possibility. As if sensing my hesitancy, my host prodded further,

“Perhaps you might be taken by the intoxications of altruism and become a hero of the people. Conversely, might you grow drunk on the power you might attain and become a scourge to be cleansed? That in itself might make you a worthy of a certain sort of song."

He continued his musings unabated. The more he spoke, the greater my confusion. "You were a soldier, were you not? Many of that ilk find lives–short though they often are–as mercenaries or bounty hunters. That would suit you quite well, I think…"

“I can’t do anything, not anymore…” I said, and then a thought flared deep in my chest… how dare he? Why had he chosen me as the subject of some cruel joke to dangle hope and expect me to jump? "Excuse me…" I said through a clenched jaw, moving to take my leave. "Each of us must consciously decide for ourselves how to expend the fleeting lives we are given, Mr. Alder. Imagine the awesome opportunity before you. The chance to choose again?”

…

“How?”

Thomas Kane Wilbur smiled wide, the first flicker of emotion I’d seen since our meeting at the hospital. “Simple–you die.”

…

I admit, I panicked. T.K. made no move toward me as the chair clattered to the ground, and I went along with it. I kicked my feet in an effort to stand up, “I mean you no harm, Brandon. Please calm down.” I didn’t listen. Finally managing to stand on shaking legs, and already out of breath, I made for the exit without looking back.

“You run from salvation, Mr. Alder.” He said, speaking louder than his normal volume, though his tone was deeper than before. “You’re going to kill me!” I spat, feeling confident as I reached for the handle…only to find out the door was locked, and I was trapped. "Do you know who I am? Perhaps we should start there. Please allow me a moment of your time, I truly mean you no harm." I could feel him reaching for my neck, his fingers at my collar. I bolted around, meaning to defend myself…T.K. sat placidly in his seat where I had left him, the overturned office chair lying on the nondescript blue carpet between us.

“You already know my name, but I have failed to explain my intent and caused you no small amount of turmoil. For that, I apologize. You see, I’m not well-versed in communicating with people through this medium.”

Medium? Did he mean in person? "You're a doctor, right?" I asked, subtly testing the door handle again. "As in a physician? Not at all." An answer that dashed any few remaining hopes I may have harbored that there had been some truth here, that he actually could help me. T.K., Thomas, this man…he was insane. It had been a setup, and I’d fallen for it.

“I suppose, at my core, I'm a programmer," Thomas said, slowly rising from his chair. He moved around the desk, seemingly ignorant of what I hoped was a piercing stare. T.K. lazily–as if he could barely be bothered–stooped down, grabbed the chair by the backrest, and returned it to its legs. He didn't yet offer me the seat a second time. Instead, he returned to his own, settling comfortably with a leg crossed above the other–his foot bouncing in the air. “Before we go on, I must first make one request of you– “

“No.” I said without thinking, and T.K. laughed. Not a throaty, belly laugh­–more a so a chuckle that befit a smirk…he was snickering at me… Fuck him.

"Promise me–” he said, ignoring my outburst, “–that you will listen, mind free of presumption and suspicion. What I have to offer you is far from conventional. Still, I am stringent in criteria and confident in my choices–and I have chosen you.”

…

“Please, sit down.”