The Perfect Brain by Ty Chellew
When a widowed father of two is diagnosed with terminal cancer, he is offered a futuristic experimental treatment that seems too good to be true.
"Are you really going to shoot him, Bruce?"
My wife's voice is a mere whisper, and I barely hear her implore; I can't focus on that right now. I stare down the sight of my Glock at Cal. Or whoever Cal has become - because the man I'm looking at is no longer my brother. The speckles of blood and dirt caked onto his flannel and jeans aren't the things that make him unfamiliar to me - I've seen him more covered in blood many a time during the course of our hunting outings - rather it's the cold, dead look in his eyes. I see the familiar person in front of me, but I don't know him anymore.
I can't spare a look at Janna and the children; but in my peripheral I can see Sean and Ruth trembling within her grasp. Poor kids - they don't understand what has happened to their father and why he is trying to harm them. Hell, I don't understand it either. This was supposed to be a happy time, not a tragic one. How could it have gone so wrong?
A breeze blows in and the cornstalks morph into an ominous wave of black undulation against the deep orange of the sunset sky. Cal's dead eyes stare a hole into me. He's tensed up like a wolf ready to pounce on prey. I can't hesitate anymore; this is life or death.
My finger twitches over the trigger.
One Month Earlier
The doctor's office where Cal Enthrop sat was small yet soothing. The beige walls were adorned with hope-inspiring décor; the painting of a sparkling waterfall set against snowcapped mountains elicited a feeling of awe at the beauty of creation; the plaque stating "Life is Precious" conveyed the idea that human life was paramount. Certainly the tapestries had inspired positivity in countless patients at the Washington-Franklin University Hospital in Philadelphia - indeed, Cal had been one of them. His treatment over the last three years had been nothing short of miraculous - his original diagnosis had given him a meager nine months to live, yet here he was, still fighting - for himself, and more importantly, for his family.
But today was not as hopeful as Cal's previous visits. Even before Dr. Parthaki entered the room grimacing, Cal had known what he was going to say.
"I'm sorry Cal," the dark-haired, dark-skinned oncologist said, "it's back."
Cal blew out a breath and leaned forward in his chair. "I'm not surprised, doctor. The last few weeks have been rough. I don't have an appetite and my digestion is shot." He locked eyes with Dr. Parthaki. "How widespread is it?"
The doctor paused a moment. "It's moved beyond the local region of your small intestine. Tumors are present throughout your digestive tract, tracing upwards into your lungs and esophagus."
"Damn," Cal chuckled humorlessly. "You're telling me I've got intestinal and lung cancer? Lucky me." He inhaled deeply, the full baritone of his voice projecting resolve. "But I refuse to give up. What are my options?"
"I'll be blunt with you Cal; your options are limited. We've exhausted the gamut of radiation and pill therapies; both the clinically-approved and experimental. And unfortunately, we cannot perform micro-surgery; given the conglomeration and microscopic size of the polyps, even the most advanced laser procedures couldn't safely target them without risking your vital organs."
Cal frowned. "I'm at the end of the line here doctor. My risk tolerance is much higher these days. The laser surgery has worked before - and you've proclaimed many a time how accurate the university medi-bots are. They never miss right?"
"That's correct Cal, but the difference now is the tumors are too interwoven into your vitals. The bots could accurately hit them, but your lungs would be compromised. The surgery would kill you."
"So that's it?" Cal failed to keep the frustration from his voice. "There's nothing left to do? Come on, Dr. Parthaki, this can't be it." Reflexively, his hands balled into fists. "I've got two kids under ten who need me. Tell me there's something else we can do; some other option, some other treatment, something!"
"Possibly."
Dimming the lights in the room, Dr. Parthaki keyed a button on the touchscreen wall display. "There's one more option, Cal." As Cal watched, the doctor opened a visual insights program, pulled up an image of a tiny arthropod, and zoomed in.
"What is that?" Cal was confused at the image. "Some kind of sandcrab?"
Dr. Parthaki half-smiled. "I admit it does look like a creature you might find at the beach. "But no. This -" he rotated the image to show the flank of the thing, exposing eight appendages, each of them thin, sleek, and ending with ten pointed phalanges. "- is a nanobot. And not just any nanobot - one specifically designed to locate, apprehend, and treat cancer cells. This type of bot -" he rotated the image again, "- is microscopic, durable, undetectable to the body's immune system, and can self-propel to the cancer sites."
Cal stood and put a hand on his chin. "Impressive. But can this really help me? You've just told me there are no viable treatments that won't damage my vitals. How would this make a difference?"
"There's one crucial element differentiating these bots, Cal." He pulled up another screen. "You are familiar with Omnitive AI?"
"Of course. Their artificial general intelligence model powers your medi-bots. Not to mention my car driver, my farmhands, and my accountant."
Dr. Parthaki nodded. "Indeed. But there's more to their business than mere humanoids. They've partnered with a startup called Quanta Technologies to produce these nanobots. These tiny machines are directly linked to Omnitive's AGI model."
Cal's eyebrows rose. "They're alive?"
"Artificially speaking, yes." The doctor rolled his chair over and put a hand on Cal's shoulder. "What this means for you Cal, is these bots can reach your cancer sites, and, drawing on Omnitive's artificial general intelligence model, work collectively to deliver breakthrough treatments to each site."
"Breakthrough?" Cal's heart skipped a beat. "Meaning, they can find a cure?"
"Not just find a cure, Cal - they can execute the cure. Right then and there."
Cal's eyes widened. "This is - I mean, I can't believe - this sounds too good to be true." He looked imploringly at the doctor. "You're telling me these AI-nanobots can cure my stage four cancer?"
"Yes, Cal. That's what I'm telling you."
Cal craned his neck towards the waterfall painting. It had never looked so beautiful, so inspiring of hope.
The excited gleam in Cal's eyes is brighter than the sunlight's reflection off the duck pond out front. He's understandably thrilled at the doctor' proposed miracle cure.
Cal has told Janna and I about the nanobot solution and while it does seem too good to be true, I'm not about to say anything to dampen his enthusiasm. Yes, it's true that generative AI has come a long way in the thirteen years since its introduction to the world in 2022 - but still, hive-mind cancer-fighting micro-machines? It's hard for me to wrap my head around. On the other hand, the doctors at U-Franklin are among the nation's best; I'm not surprised they are at the cutting edge of cancer treatment.
"A full cure, Cal?" Janna asks. "As in, complete remission?"
Cal nods and smiles. "That's what Dr. Parthaki told me. The nanobots are smart enough that they can treat individual cells at the molecular level, transforming and repairing them. Essentially, my cells will be made whole again as if the cancer had never infected them."
The solution he's describing is way over my head. With my engineering background I've got mechanical smarts, so the nano robots themselves I can comprehend - but molecular biology and its workings escape me.
"And you said this is still in the experimental phase?" I ask. I'm not necessarily skeptical, but if this cure is as miraculous as Cal's claiming, surely there is some evidence of its efficacy.
"That's right, Bruce." Cal pulls up a web page, projecting the image from the smart implant in his hand. "It says here that if I accept, I'll be one of thirty-two participants in the study. All participants are from the Philly-New York region so that everyone can be examined in-person by the U-Franklin doctors."
I furrow my brow but don't say anything. What Cal just described sounds like he'll be one of thirty-two lab rats. But I understand that's how these trials work - his last few rounds of experimental radiation treatments were structured in the same way. Those trials had failed, but all three of us are hopeful this one will buck the trend.
"There have been successful animal trials," Cal continues, using his index finger to scroll down the projection. "In cats, primates, and believe it or not, dolphins. It says here that eighty-seven percent of subjects have gone into complete remission."
My eyes widen and I lean back into my easy chair. "Wow, that's impressive. What about potential side effects?"
"Let me see here - ok, here it is. In a few trials, the animals' auto-immune responses were triggered and attacked healthy sites the nanobots were passing through. And in some of the earliest trials, there was a failure in the magnetic attraction between the bots and the controller - although that's irrelevant now since the latest bot models are self-propelled rather than controlled by an external magnetic device. The last thing it mentions..." he keeps scrolling, "...in some, there was a failure in the self-degradation process."
"Explain again what that means?" Janna asks.
"Self-degradation? For lack of a better term, that's how the nanobots leave the patient's body. A command sequence triggers them to disintegrate into finer particles, and then they are passed through typical means." He looks up and laughs. "In other words, I'll be peeing gray for a few days when this over."
Janna and I laugh with him; the levity feels good after the gloom we've been experiencing the last couple of weeks. All of us - myself, Janna, Cal, Sean and Ruth - had thought his cancer was gone after his last round of radiation. His remission had lasted almost a full year and we were thanking God that he'd finally been healed.
Until last month when it came roaring back.
Cal needs the hope. He still looks strong on the outside, but I know how much he is struggling right now. He doesn't want to admit it but he's quickly losing vitality. I've noticed it the last several days; he's having trouble doing even basic farmwork tasks. But he's more stubborn than the mules in our pens and I guess that's why he's lasted so long battling the cancer; he refuses to give up and I respect the hell out of him for that. Nevertheless, he's failing.
"Listen guys," he rises and stands at the kitchen window, looking out into the healthy green cornstalks swaying in the summer breeze. "As good as the literature makes it sound, I know this is a long shot. But at this point, what have I got to lose? Dr. Parthaki was clear with me: it's this, or hospice." He turns back and locks eyes with each of us. "And I can't - I just can't - give up. The kids need me.
"Don't get me wrong. I know that if I don't make it, you two will be the best godparents Ruth and Sean could ever have. But they need their dad. They're barely into middle school! I can't leave them alone for their whole lives. And after what happened to Sarah -" he chokes a cough and puts his hands on his hips. "After what I did -"
"Stop right there, Cal," Janna puts a palm out. "That wasn't your fault. It was an accident, pure and simple. There was nothing you could have done differently."
I've told my brother this many times. The deer in this state are as stupid as they are populous. The one that ran directly into Cal's Harley was a freak thing that he couldn't have avoided; there'd been no negligence on his part. But I understand why feels guilt; his kids have been without their mother for two years now, and nobody - not Cal, Janna, or me - could ever replace what she was to them.
"Regardless," Cal says to Janna, "I've got to give myself the best fighting chance. I've got to stay alive. For myself, and for them. And this is my best chance."
I angrily whisk a drop of sweat from my eyebrow, smudging even more grime across my face. For the life of me I cannot figure out why this tractor won't start. As I crane my neck upwards and stare into the underside of the huge machine, which is safely fixed to the magnetic lift, I run through the checklist one more time. Spark plugs: attached and functional. Fuel line: clear and connected. Starter: fine. Computer motherboard: undamaged and operational. So what is the issue?
I throw my spanner to the ground and take a few steps out from underneath the machine; I'm getting frustrated and it's clouding my judgement. Take a few deep breaths Bruce. You were a civil engineer for eleven years; you can figure this out.
But the sun is going down, my stomach is growling, and I just want to sit down.
I don't realize I'm pacing until a voice interrupts my thoughts and stops me in my tracks.
"Having some trouble there brother?" Cal laughs and tosses the feedbags slung over his shoulder. I notice they are both sixty-pounders and he was holding them like they were nothing - his newfound strength could give even me a run for my money.
I point a thumb back at the tractor. "It would seem so, wouldn't it? I've checked everything. Mechanically, it all looks fine. But the stubborn thing still won't start. There will be hell to pay if I can't get this running by tomorrow. Harvest is coming up very quickly and this is my best machine."
Cal smiles and strides right past me, boots crunching over the gravel, with a cocky look in his eye that reminds me of a car salesman. He's been working since dawn and he looks like he could go another twelve hours. I imagine he's physically exhausted - who wouldn't be after all the manual labor he's done today - but I know he's ignoring the fatigue simply because he's happy with his regained ability to do the job. He's working, contributing, living again, and loving it.
That's what a cure will do for a man.
He walks under the tractor and peers in. "Ahh, I see here." Without looking back, he points to the tool shelf. "Hand me those wire clips and the multi-solder tool, will ya? I've found the issue. Shouldn't take just a minute."
I furrow my brow. Cal's never worked on the tractors before; mechanical repairs have always been my department. Mr. Confident is getting a little bit ahead of himself. But I walk over anyway and hand him the tools.
"Thanks." I watch as he clips off the motherboard, lays it flat on the workbench, and begins to solder.
"The chip is fine, Cal," I say from behind his shoulder, "I looked it over three times already."
A few white-blue sparks fly in front of him as he works. "Yeah... but sometimes these things come from the factory with compromised filaments that can cause micro tears and shutter communications from the ignition switch to the engine." He looks over his shoulder and smiles. "Which can be a damn hard thing to identify."
I scratch my head at his response. What in the hell is he even talking about?
"Just one more minute..." he grunts. "Aaaand... bingo! That should do it." He walks back over and takes a few minutes to re-connect the board. "Ok, brother, try now."
I laugh out loud. "Oh, that's it, huh? I've been working on this doll since noon, and you figure it out just like that?"
He points an index finger at the remote starter in my front pocket. "Try for yourself."
I shake my head and snort. Whatever, I'll humor him. I decide I'm done for the day anyway. I smell the charcoals from the grill; I'll get myself some dinner, rest up, and come back to this early tomorrow morning.
I hit the remote starter and my mouth hangs open as the engine fires up. How did he -?
"It's a shame you didn't ask me sooner, Bruce," he laughs and pats me on the shoulder as he walks past. "Now let's go eat; I'm starving."
"Did you get a lot of work done today, Dad?" Sean asks Cal a half hour later as we all sit down to grilled chicken breasts courtesy of Janna.
Cal smiles as he places a napkin on his lap. "We did, son. In fact, I thought of a few ways we might make the corn harvest a bit more efficient." He turns to me. "If you're up for some suggestions Bruce."
I nod my head as I bite into the chicken. It's tender with a fantastic smokey flavor. Janna is even better on the grill than I am. "Of course, Cal." I laugh and point an elbow in the direction of the barn. "Maybe you could start by supercharging the pickup, seeing as you're the sudden mechanical whiz."
He laughs and digs into his own plate.
"You seem to be recovering very nicely, Cal," Janna observes.
"That's right," he replies, draining half his beer in one swig. "I haven't felt this good since before the diagnosis. Thank God for Dr. Parthaki and the nanobots. The turnaround has really been amazing."
"You're all better now, Daddy?" Seven-year-old Ruth, cute as a button, asks.
"Yeah, my strong girl, I am."
He turns towards me again. "Which reminds me; I've got another check-in at the outpatient center tomorrow. So I'll be a bit late on the start."
"No worries, Cal. I'll boot up a few extra humanoids to hit the chicken coops."
"Great. It shouldn't take me too long; I'll hop onto the hover-rail express line directly into University City." He drops his fork and pauses, a look of illumination on his face. "Funny thing about the hover rail technology. It was developed by Rotimaya Enterprises in Japan, an engineering conglomerate who just so happens to be a seed investor of Quanta Technologies who developed these nanobots inside me." He laughs and takes another swig of his ale. "So I'll be riding on a train developed by these guys, with tiny robots inside me that are financed by them. Maybe I should write Rotiyama a thank you card."
"That's some kind of memory you have there," I say. "Sounds like you've done some reading up on this tech inside you."
"Not really," he shrugs. "I just remembered the connection."
I look at Janna's smirking face. "Uh, ok." I say. "Anyway, we'll be thinking about you tomorrow, and maybe we'll have a surprise for you when you get home, to celebrate the official end of your treatment and the start of your post-cancer life." I wink and point my fork towards Sean and Ruth. "Does that sound good to you guys?"
"Yeah!" they shout in unison, smiling from ear to ear.
I realize that everyone in this family is a lot happier than they've been in a long time. The warm summer night feels great, this year's crop is abundant, and Cal is finally in good health. Things couldn't be better for the Enthrop family.
Cal gazed out the train window at the Delaware. The river's lightly flowing ripples reflected the morning sun like the face multi-faceted jewel. He noted the river had an unusually fresh blue tint as opposed to its typical muted brown. On the far side of the bank, the high rises of Philadelphia shot thousands of kilometers up like silver daggers reaching for the heavens. A matte-black lunar plane cut vertically through the air until it disappeared into the deep blue of the morning sky. The whole scene was magnificent.
Cal's ear to ear smile probably made him appear strange to the other passengers on the train, but he couldn't help it; his cancer was finally and irrevocably gone! Between his follow up appointments and multiple rounds of diagnostic testing, Dr. Parthaki had confirmed that in the spectacularly short time span of three weeks, the cancer-mutated cells had been completely restored. He truly was a walking miracle. And today, on his final follow-up, the bots would be removed and he would be officially discharged. After today, his life would enter its next stage. At thirty-six years old he had plenty more life to live, and very soon this episode would be a distant memory.
Despite the excitement, however, he couldn't shake the tightness in his chest that had been nagging him since he woke. Perhaps he was just being irrational, believing the cure was too good to be true. After all, the cancer had come back before. He looked up as the hover train buzzed at his stop. He forced down his negativity; it would get him nowhere.
"My friend," Dr. Parthaki greeted cheerfully fifteen minutes later after Cal checked in, "you look better than ever. And not just physically, I can see it in your eyes too."
The doctor's enthusiasm was contagious and Cal smiled. "Of course, doctor. I've got a second chance at life. I can't thank you enough for all of your care."
"This is what I live for, my friend. To be able to contribute to another's well-being is truly an honor." Swiveling his chair, he pulled up Cal's holochart. "Ok, today is the big day. We trigger the nanobot self-degradation sequence, and then you are free and clear. Sound good?"
Cal grinned. "Yes, Dr. Parthaki, it does. I -" He grimaced as a wave of nausea passed over him.
Dr. Parthaki leaned forward and put a hand on his shoulder. "Everything alright?"
"Yes, I - yes." Cal's smile returned. "Just a little nervous I guess." A thought emerged in his mind. "What if - what if we left the bots in? They're not causing any harm, are they? I mean, if the cancer comes back, won't it be useful to have them in place?"
Dr. Parthaki nodded. "No, that would be bad practice. Firstly, our screening shows your cancer has been completely eliminated. Believe me when I say I'm sure of that. Secondly, the longer the nanobots are in your body the more risk your immune system could react adversely. The bots have been tremendous in treating your cancer, but they are a foreign agent nonetheless."
Cal sighed. "Ok. And they will self-destruct without any adverse effects?"
"Over the next couple days, you may have some discomfort urinating and possibly a bit of constipation, but we'll prescribe medication for that. Other than that, Cal, no, you shouldn't feel any pain at all.
"Ok," he clapped his hands together. "Let's say we do this and get you out of here, huh?"
Cal smiled and nodded. "Sounds good, doc."
He sat and watched as the oncologist, who had become almost like a friend to him the last couple of years, used a large syringe to extract a translucent blue liquid from a vial on the desk. "This," Dr. Parthaki said, flicking the syringe with his middle finger, "is the agent we'll use to trigger the nanobots' self-degradation protocol. It's a two-step process. First, you take the injection, and then I remotely activate the program."
Parthaki started to say something else but Cal only half-heard him as his thoughts dwelled on the nanobots inside him. He couldn't shake the feeling that now just wasn't the time for them to be removed. The doctor was assuring him the cancer was completely gone; but was it? What if it came back? What if by removing the bots now, he was dooming himself to relapse? He just couldn't afford to take that risk.
As the doctor finished prepping the self-degradation agent, Cal took note of how large the syringe was; the needle was quite dagger-like. He also took note of the proximity of the stool to Parthaki's foot; if he tripped in just the right way, his grip on the syringe combined with the natural angle of his fall would cause him to accidentally plunge the instrument into his jugular, killing him instantly.
Cal nudged the stool.
Parthaki tripped and landed in a heap, gurgling as blood pooled on the floor and spread rapidly around his body. The doctor pulled the syringe from his neck and tried to reach up, but in mere seconds it was over and death overtook him.
Cal's head snapped and he looked at the doctor's corpse in horror. What had he done? What had he done? He shook his head again. This couldn't be real; it had to be a nightmare. He slapped himself across the face, urging his sleeping self to wake up.
But nothing happened. It was real. He'd killed Dr. Parthaki.
He stood in shock, staring at the body of the man who had done so much to help him.
Dashing out the door, he tried desperately to find someone. "Help! We need help!" Cal sprinted down the hall towards the lobby. "It's Dr. Parthaki!" he cried, desperately imploring the receptionist. "He fell, and he's, he's - we need a medic, now!"
I look across the table at my brother and wish there was something I could do to ease his pain. He's got a distant look in his eyes as he pushes the food around his plate. He's been mostly silent throughout dinner and I can't fault him - he's gone through a deeply traumatic event today.
Witnessing a person die will shake up a man. Sure, Cal and I have both seen blood - in the early years of our operation, before bringing in the humanoids, we used to take care of the animal slaughter ourselves - but animal butchering is categorically different than witnessing a human being die.
Cal's been offered therapy sessions with the university's psychologists and I think he should accept. It's great that he's clear of the cancer, but the last thing we want is for him to fall into a struggle with PTSD. He's hesitant to accept, claiming he doesn't need therapy and can work through the trauma on his own, but I don't buy it. Things like these can become buried in a man's consciousness and then come charging back with devastating consequences.
I look at Janna and she nods. Taking one last bite of my steak, I clear my plate and ask Cal if he's ready for the kids. They haven't seen their dad since he got home earlier today and they are getting understandably restless.
"It'll make you feel better," Janna says, putting a hand on his shoulder.
He looks up and smiles, the first one I've seen on him today. "You're right," he replies. I watch as he stretches his arms in a wide arc and takes a long breath, in and out. "I should stop pouting."
He proceeds to clear the contents of his plate into the trash, wash it in the sink, and then he turns back to us. He's beaming now, and cups his hands around his mouth. "Sean, Ruth," he shouts up the stairs, "come down and say hi to your dad!"
I hear footsteps stampeding down the stairs and can't help but smile myself. Cal does one final stretch, and then cracks his neck - rather mechanically, I think to myself - and sits back down, perfectly postured in his seat and hands folded on the table.
The kids explode into the kitchen and hug their dad. His eyes are closed as he embraces them tightly. This is what Cal needs after today's tragedy - to be surrounded by the love of his family. I swear to myself that I'll do everything I can to help him cope with this. We're brothers and we've got each other's backs, no matter what.
"How are you feeling, Dad?"
"Was the city so cool?"
"Can we play freeze tag tomorrow?"
We all laugh as they pepper him with questions.
"Of course we can play tag," he responds. "But," he holds a finger in the air, "after you finish your math homework."
They both gripe for a moment but the smiles quickly return.
"No complaining," Cal says. "Math is fun! How about this: did you know pi, which represents the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter, is an irrational number? The first eight digits go like this: three point one four one five nine two six. And there are countless more! Isn't that so cool?"
The confused looks on the kids' faces mirror my own.
"Oh, and another interesting fact: there's something called the Fibonacci sequence where the sum of the first two numbers equal the next number. You can observe the sequence in nature, for example the spirals in seashells, certain types of seeds, and even galaxies. Very interesting, wouldn't you say?"
Well, isn't he suddenly the math whiz. Sean and Ruth still have dumbfounded looks on their faces so I break the silence. "Looks like your dad has picked up a few new facts from his reading time on the hover train." We all laugh at the rib; except for Cal. He's just frowning. Come on brother, it was a simple quip, nothing to get upset about.
And just then it hits me how deeply Dr. Parthaki's death has affected him. His attempt to hide the hurt is commendable, but clearly he's going to need support.
We all chat for a few more minutes and then Janna gathers up the kids, leaving Cal and I alone in the kitchen. I pour myself a pint, a nice Hefeweizen from the Mad Walrus microbrewery, and set another in front of Cal. Should take the edge off what's been a hard day.
"You know I'm here for you," I say, taking a swig from the pint. The beer is cold, smooth, and has just the right touch of hoppiness. Those Mad Walrus guys really know their trade. "We can talk about anything. You've been through so much with the cancer, and now having to witness the doctor's accident today. It's a lot for a man to shoulder."
He looks at me for a second and pushes his pint away. "I appreciate that Bruce, but there's nothing more than what I've already told you. Parthaki tripped and the needle pierced his jugular. And that's that."
I grimace at his punctuated response. "Those are the hard facts of what happened, yes. But that's not what I'm talking about Cal. I'm talking about how you are feeling. I imagine there's a lot of emotions swirling inside you, and I'm saying it's ok for you to talk about that with me and with Janna."
"There's nothing to talk about. I'm over it." He rises from the table, grabs his beer and dumps the whole thing down the sink. That seems unnecessary, to waste a perfectly good beverage. But I'm also a little surprised - since he went into remission, the guy has been draining beers like he's training for a festival in Germany.
"You know," he says as he steps towards the threshold into the other room, "drinking beer like this will kill you. Even a few drinks can lead to things like weakened immune system, sleep disruption, cardiovascular disease, and several types of cancers. Multiple studies have shown this to be the case.
"Perhaps most importantly through, alcohol inhibits your brain's ability to function." He gives a condescending snort. "Why would a person do that to themselves?"
Without another word, he leaves me sitting alone at the table, staring at my half-empty pint.
This is the seventh ear of corn I've sampled today and I have to say, I'm very encouraged. I split the husk and run two fingers over the kernels; they have a vibrant yellow color and the afternoon sun is hitting them just the right way to show off their gleam. They give off an almost nutty aroma and I decide I'll treat myself to this beauty tonight at dinner. I glance to either side at the rows of stalks rising a head higher than me and smile; the new irrigation system installed this spring - which I fully engineered, I remind myself - has been a real boon for the crop. I expect we'll have the best yield in the last five, maybe even ten years.
Exiting the field, I wave hello to a pair of humanoids cleaning the chicken coop. They cheerfully greet me back. These newer models are really efficient; they have great battery life and their dexterity is phenomenal; no more dropped wheelbarrows or spilled feed bags. And their personality modules make them easy to like; I've had many conversations with each of them about anything and everything. I pull in a deep breath of summer air and enjoy the moment. Yeah, things are going pretty well.
"Hey Cal," I say as a step through the threshold of the tractor barn. "Come check out this ear." He's leaning under the hood of one of our older models, a dusty tractor we haven't used in years. His back is towards me but I can hear the click of a ratchet.
"What are you working on?" I ask, a bit confused. The two of us decided last year that we'd decommission this tractor. Our newer models are much more efficient and we decided this one would be used for spare parts.
He doesn't look up. "I realized this morning that if we installed an auto pilot function on Betty here -" he grunts at the twist of his wrench, "- we could increase our collection by almost thirteen percent. One more - ugh - there, done." He pulls his head from under the hood and shoots me a confident nod. "We run her at night to collect all the dropped ears."
I raise my eyebrows; I have to admit I'm impressed. "I didn't think she could take an autopilot function."
He shrugs. "It was the simple matter of splicing some wiring together to make this omega-model chip compatible with her factory settings."
I step forward peer into the engine housing but he grabs me by the arm. "Oh, and take a look at this," he directs me towards the work station. "I figured out another way we can increase yield for next year." He projects what appears to be a hand-illustrated schematic into the air.
"Here's our plot," he indicates his stylus towards the glowing blue image. "Based on the exact latitude and longitude of our crop area, we could add five more rows on this end," he clicks his stylus and a new row of orange appends onto the projection, "and they would receive the same amount of sunlight."
"Very interesting. But if you remember Cal, we specifically ended the plot there because of those massive stones settled in the soil. Even with the humanoids' strength, we'd have a hell of a time unearthing them." He and I have had this discussion before; I guess it slipped his mind.
He clicks his stylus one more time to bring up an image of some sort of mechanical appendage ending in a serrated scooping hand. "Correct. But I developed a solution for that too. We can simply engineer a -"
"Excuse me, gentleman," an unfamiliar voice booms from behind us. I turn to see two police officers standing in the barn door threshold. The setting sun casts their shadows deep into the barn's interior. Both are wearing knee-high jet-black boots which contrast against their light gray tactical suits. They have affable looks on their faces. "Are either of you the owner of this stead?"
"We both are officers," I step forward and shake their hands. Their emblems show they are from Philly PD, and I'm pretty sure I know why they are here. "I'm Bruce Enthrop, and this is my brother Cal."
The officer looks to Cal. "Sir, if we could have a few moments of your time. We'd like to ask you a few questions about the incident with Dr. Hesh Parthaki."
Cal doesn't answer save for a nod, and steps forward to follow the officers outside to their parked vehicle.
"You ok?" I ask as he passes me.
"Yes." His reply is flat. "I'll handle this."
"If you could just wait inside sir," the other officer says to me.
I nod and head back to the house. I hold a stoic face, but on the inside I'm swirling. Cal has clearly been rattled by the incident yesterday with the doctor. He's been acting very strange since last night, showing almost no emotion to anyone or anything. He's barely even spoken to the kids today, has just buried himself in work. Seems pretty obvious that he's suppressing his emotions to avoid feeling the shock of the doctor's death.
And now these officers are here, interrogating him about the incident, and surely this is just the first of many inquiries he's going to receive. Avoidance isn't going to be an option for my brother, and I pray that he doesn't break under the pressure.
Janna is peering out the window as I come through the back door. "They're not arresting him, are they?" She asks trepidatiously.
"No, just asking him questions." I look around. "Where are the kids?"
"Finishing their homework before dinner." She leaves the window and turns to stir the simmering pot of red sauce on the stove. The aromatic hints of basil and thyme remind me that I am very hungry. "Cal's favorite," she takes a small sip from the ladle. "This will cheer him up for sure." I smile at her. That's my wife; always thinking of others.
"Let's go up and talk to them," I say. "We don't want them wondering why their father is talking to a couple of police officers."
"Good idea."
We head towards the stairs but I turn back as the back door slams shut. Cal is just standing there, completely still.
"That was quick." I take a few steps towards him. "They were asking you about the doctor?"
Cal doesn't reply. He's just standing there staring at me, face lined with a frown.
"Cal are you ok?"
Nothing.
"Cal," I repeat, "I know this ordeal has been tough on you." I gesture towards the chair. "Let's talk it through. We're here for you, brother."
"You won't take it from me," he says, so softly that I barely hear him.
"What?"
"You won't," he enunciates the t, "take it from me!"
"Take what, Cal? What are you talking about? I don't understa-" I glance out the window and my eyes widen in horror.
"My God." I pivot to get a better look. I don't want to believe what I'm seeing, but it's right there. The police offers are lying next to their vehicle, unmoving. Their necks hang at odd angles and their eyes are wide open. One has blood dripping from his nose and mouth.
They've been murdered.
"Cal!" I shout. "My God! What's happened? What did you do!"
I move to sprint past him out the door, but he trips me before I can get there. I land in heap and wince as a pain shoots up my shoulder.
"Cal, no!" Janna's shrill cry pierces my ears. "Bruce! Watch out!"
I turn and look up at Cal, just in time to take hold of his wrist as he tries to plunge a butcher's knife into my chest. "Cal..." I grunt through gritted teeth, "...stop!"
I manage to flip him over and shove him away. I'm horrified at what my brother is doing but my mind doesn't dwell on that. Instead, I can only focus on the cold look of calculation in his eyes. I see Cal's face staring back at me, but he's unfamiliar.
"You won't take it from me," he repeats. He's half-crouched like an MMA fighter going for the finish.
"Cal, please." I'm tensed up but I reach out an imploring hand anyway. "We can work through this together. We're a family. Don't do this. We love you."
"Dr. Parthaki tried, the police tried, and now you're trying. But you won't take away my perfect brain." His response is indifferent and completely ignorant of my brotherly plea. "Nobody will!"
Before I get a chance to comprehend what he means, Cal leaps forward and I catch both his wrists in my hands. Damn, he's strong. My arms tremble as I struggle to keep his hands from my throat. I grit my teeth and push with my legs, driving him back a few steps.
"Stop it!" Janna screams and smashes a coffee mug against the back of Cal's head. Porcelain debris explodes into the air. Cal growls - an inhuman guttural sound - and twists one wrist free of my grasp, reaching for Janna. She shrieks.
A surge of adrenaline hits me like a tidal wave and I shout through my teeth. Brother or not, nobody tries to harm my wife. Nobody. I push forward with all my strength and shove Cal violently through the storm door. It breaks off its hinges and he tumbles outside head over heels. I quickly close the entry door and lock the deadbolt.
I turn and help Janna up. "Are you ok?"
"Yes." She shakes her head clear. "Oh my God, Bruce. What is happening right now?"
"I don't know." I motion forward and we run to the stairs. "We've got to get the kids out of here."
I point to their doors and break off into our bedroom. "You grab them, I'll be right there."
I hear Janna murmuring to Sean and Ruth and their small voices responding in confusion. I briefly speculate on the devastation this incident will bring to the rest of their lives, but I can't dwell on it. My immediate task is to get them safely away from their unhinged father. I thumb the fingerprint and pull my Glock out of the safe, pushing in the magazine and pulling back the slide. As I shove a second magazine into my back pocket, another wave of horror rolls over me. Am I really going to have to shoot my own brother? God, please help it not come to that.
I meet Janna and the frightened kids in the hall and we rush downstairs. Cal is banging on the front door and shouting.
"Is that Daddy?" Ruth cries. "Why is he yelling?"
My niece's small voice haunts me but I can't spare a moment to answer her. We've got to move now. "To the back!" I yell. "Go! Go! Go!"
We move as a group, sprinting out the back door through the side yard towards the driveway where my Ford is parked. My number one concern is getting the kids and Janna away from Cal. We'll drive to the police station and let the authorities come back here and deal with him.
"What the hell?" I hiss as the ignition fails to start. I was driving the truck an hour ago and it was fine. Why doesn't it work now?
"What's wrong, Bruce?" Janna asks desperately.
"I don't know. It won't start!" I try a few more times but it's futile.
"Screw it. We'll take the Jeep. Everyone out!"
The four of us jump out and I lead them up the driveway towards the garage. Sparing a glance back, I see Cal lurching around the corner of the house. He's still got that dead look in his eyes and it pierces through me.
I grab my keys from the wall hook and the four of us jam into my '23 Wrangler. I've been working on her as a hobby and she's always run great. But to my shock and dismay, she won't start either. What in the hell is going on with these vehicles?
"Having some car trouble, I see," Cal is standing in the driveway in front of us. His shoulders rise and fall as he chuckles.
So that's it; Cal disabled the vehicles. He's trapped us here.
"Daddy," Sean shouts, tears in his eyes. "Are you ok? Did we do something wrong?"
The lump in my throat could explode.
With terrible resignation I realize we're at the point of no return. I'm going to have to fight - maybe even kill - my brother.
But then it dawns on me; we have one more chance. "Out! Out! Out!" I motion Janna and the kids towards the garage side door. I silently pray that Cal hasn't disabled the police car too.
"No you don't!" Cal sprints after us. I turn and fire two warning shots above his head. The kids shriek and Cal dives onto his stomach, head buried in his forearms.
We run towards the police vehicle. Oh God, the kids are going to see the dead bodies. Lord help us, they are going to need some serious therapy after this ordeal.
Assuming we make it out alive.
No; can't think like that. I shake the doubts from my mind. We're going to make it. There's no way we won't.
I open the police cruiser's driver-side door and begin to enter but I'm turned around by the sound of Janna's sharp gasp.
"Nowhere left to go, Bruce." Cal says softly.
He's standing ten feet away and I stare into his eyes as I put him in the sight of my pistol. This is surreal. Am I going to have to do this?
"Are you really going to shoot him, Bruce?"
My wife's voice is a mere whisper, and I barely hear her implore; I can't focus on that right now. I stare down the sight of my Glock at Cal. Or whoever Cal has become that is - because the man I'm looking at is no longer my brother. The speckles of blood and dirt caked onto his flannel and jeans aren't the things that make him unfamiliar to me - I've seen him more covered in blood many a time during the course of our hunting outings - rather it's the cold, dead look in his eyes. I see the familiar person in front of me, but I don't know him anymore.
I can't spare a look at Janna and the children; but in my peripheral I can see Sean and Ruth trembling within her grasp. Poor kids - they don't understand what has happened to their father and why he is trying to harm them. Hell, I don't understand it either. This was supposed to be a happy time, not a tragic one. How could it have gone so wrong?
A breeze blows in and the cornstalks morph into an ominous wave of black undulation against the deep orange of the sunset sky. Cal's dead eyes stare a hole into me. He's tensed up like a wolf ready to pounce on prey. I can't hesitate anymore; this is life or death.
My finger twitches over the trigger.
I fire twice into the ground, sending dirt and grass flying everywhere. Cal shields his eyes with a forearm.
"Get to the barn!" I yell.
"What about you?" Janna replies.
"I'll... figure it out. Go!"
She and the kids run just as Cal pounces on me, knocking the gun from my hand and sending me to the ground. He attempts to get his hands around my neck but I manage to fling dirt into his eyes and knock him off me. I land a punch to his jaw sending him stumbling backwards, and a sharp pain shoots up through my shoulder. I ignore it and punch him again and he goes to the ground, stunned.
I run to the barn. The kids and Janna are inside, huddled next to the work bench. Janna is holding an old pickaxe with a look of determination on her face. I quickly press a few buttons on the luminescent code pad to reset the lock combination. Should buy us some time for me to think about the best route away from Cal.
"Bruce, thank God," Janna runs up and embraces me. I hold her fiercely for a moment and then look to Ruth and Sean. Both are sitting on the ground sobbing.
"What is Daddy doing?" Ruth asks between sniffles. "Why is he trying to hurt us?"
"Did we do something wrong?" Sean says.
Their questions are heartbreaking and I don't have an answer. At least not one that will do anything to mollify their distress. But I do have an idea of what may have happened to Cal.
I hug the kids and nod my head for Janna to follow me. When we're a few feet away I tell her my theory. "He told us those cancer-fighting nanobots were linked to an artificial general intelligence model, remember? I think something's happened where they've somehow melded into his consciousness."
She looks at me like I have a horn growing out of my head. I can't blame her; what I'm saying does sound crazy. "You heard what he said in the kitchen about the doctor and the police trying to take his brain away. What if that's some element of the AGI that's piped into his brain?"
"You mean his brain is connected to the artificial intelligence of the bots?" Her eyes widen and she puts a hand over her mouth.
"More than connected. The bots have taken control. Overridden his personality somehow." I rake a hand through my hair. "But the real Cal has got to still be in there somewhere."
"We've got to get him to a doctor. To get those -" her voice rises, "- things - out of him!"
"You're right. We need to immobilize him long enough to get him somewhere."
Just then the idea hits me. I snap my fingers. "The tranqs!"
Janna opens her mouth to reply but is interrupted by the shaking of the barn door. Cal came to quicker than I thought. I guess I can't throw punches the way I used to. Or maybe my brother is just that damn tough.
We run back to the kids and I try to reassure them. "I've reset the code; he can't get in here." I turn and place my hands on Janna's shoulders. "Ok, here's the plan: I'll create a distraction and you run the kids through the stalks to the Chelski's farm. Tell them what's happened and get the police here. I can hold him off here until they arrive."
"I don't want to leave you here alone with him," she protests, "we should all go."
I shake my head. "I'm going to hit him with a cow tranquilizer. He'll be out cold for hours." I give her a quick peck on the lips. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Now go!"
As she and the kids slip out the back I run to the med cabinet, fill a needle with the strongest tranquilizer we have, and sprint back to the threshold. Cal is still banging on the door. "Listen Cal," I say, hiding the needle behind my back, "I'm going to let you in, and we're going to talk. That's what brothers do."
As I reach my forward to unlock the door, I gasp as the code pad goes green before I touch it. The door slides open, and before I can react, I'm rocked by Cal's punch to my cheek. I fall to the ground and slide back. Stars fill my vision.
"I don't need you to let me in, Bruce." He stands atop me and kicks the needle out of my hand. "I figured out the code myself." He taps his head. "It's all in here."
"Your..." I cough and spit up blood. "...artificial intelligence bots doing all the thinking now?"
"In a sense, yes. Cal is a better man now than he's ever been, thanks to my omniscience." He paces over me confidently. "And he's yet one vessel at my disposal - there are more. I'll build an army of biologicals."
My vision is starting to clear and I bring myself up to a sitting position, only to notice that Cal has crushed the needle; tranquilizer is spilled out over the floor. So much for putting him to sleep.
But then the keys in my pocket jab me in the backside, jolting me to another idea. The tractor I was working on yesterday is still attached to the lift behind me, propped ten feet in the air. If only I can get Cal to walk underneath...
He's mid-sentence when I lunge at him. He must have been anticipating my move, because he simply sidesteps and puts a knee in my gut. I suck air as the wind is knocked out of me.
"Humans are so predictable," Cal says. "It's quite easy to determine - and counter - the types of attack patterns you'll take."
I'm able to pull one mouthful of air and then jump to my feet and sprint towards the lift.
"Running won't help, Bruce. There's nowhere for you to go."
I ignore him and run beneath the lift and out the other end, daring him to follow. "Then come and fight me. If you're superiority is real," I take off my belt, wrap it around my hand, and bring my fists into sparring position, "then you should have no problem beating me into oblivion."
He strides over slowly with that same dead look in his eyes - c'mon Cal, can't you just break free of this - and stops directly in front of me. He cocks a fist, preparing to pound me into dust.
Just then I hit the release switch on the lift. The tractor, which was magnetically clamped, comes crashing down above his head to crush him.
Or it would have crushed him, except for his nimble leap backwards. He rolls back and gets back on his feet. Dusting himself off, he sends me a cold stare. "I'm too smart to fall for your clumsy attempts Bruce. Now come quietly; I promise I'll end your life quickly."
Now.
I press a button to re-engage the magnetic lift clamp. My belt buckle is pulled clean out of my hand.
Cal's head jerks upward and he lets out an agonizing scream. His eyes immediately turn bloodshot, and small droplets of blood form on his nose and forehead. He spasms momentarily before falling to the ground, limp.
I stand above him, still tensed from adrenaline. Is it over?
I stare down at him, feeling only grief. My brother, who's suffered so much these last years. He thought he'd been cured, only to be subjected to the unimaginable horror of losing himself.
Some cure.
I nudge him a few times with my boot. He's out cold. I crumple to the ground let out a deep breath. It's finally over.
Cal and I laugh harder than we have in days. The hospital has all the streaming options and we're watching old Seinfeld reruns. This show will never get old.
I've been in and out of the hospital every day this week - thankfully, Cal came out of his coma two days ago. He's still got a lot of bruising on his face, but not bad considering the stings from the machines. Who'd of ever thought my tractor lift would be used to magnetically fling millions of tiny nanobots that were lodged in my brother's frontal lobe?
Various doctors have visited and they've marveled at Cal's recovery. I'm not surprised though. He's got an unparalleled fervor for life; throughout his cancer journey he's never given up.
"Doctors say at this rate, I can go home in a day or two," he cricks his neck back and forth. "Man, I can't wait to get back into my own bed."
"We can't wait to have you back, Cal." I smile. "Word is, the kids have a special surprise waiting for you."
He grins. "I'm looking forward to it." Turning serious, he glances at the door to make sure we are alone. "Bruce, I can't thank you enough for what you did to help me. You didn't give up on me, even though I was trying to kill you. What I did, it was -" his voice cracks and his eyes water. "I -"
"Stop beating yourself up, Cal." I say firmly. "It wasn't your fault."
"But I killed those people! Dr. Parthaki, the officers..."
"No, Cal. Not you."
Our lawyers have consulted with us multiple times and are fairly certain Cal won't be convicted of any crime, since clearly his mind was not right when he did those things. It's a win that he won't be facing life in prison, but he's still going to have to deal with the emotional trauma of having taken human lives.
A man in a black suit walks through the door. "Excuse me, are you Cal Enthrop?"
"That's me."
He pulls out a business card. "I'm Walter Garish, legal counsel representing Quanta Technologies."
I frown. "Producer of the nanobots that infiltrated Cal's brain."
He pauses and stares at me, but doesn't argue my statement.
"Mr. Enthrop," he says, turning back to Cal, "Quanta is grieved beyond words at the malfunction of your cancer treatment. Please accept our deepest apologies. We'd like to offer you a healthy settlement." He pulls a small black hologram projector from his coat pocket and lays it on Cal's nightstand. "If you could review the terms here, we'd love to come to a point of resolution with you. Now, I understand we can't heal the emotional scars, but we will do our best to make you -" he nods in my direction, "- and your family, secure."
I don't respond save for a snort.
Cal picks up the device and activates the projection. Scrolling through the glowing blue text with his finger, he lets out a cynical laugh. "Mr. Garish, you said? You must be joking."
"No sir, this is a serious offer."
He tosses the device back at Garish and points to the door. "You can take your offer and shove it." Garish says nothing. "You think I'm going to let you pay me off to keep quiet about what's happened? No way in hell. For all I know there are other patients who are, at this very moment, on the brink of literally losing their minds because of your treatment."
"Might I remind you, the cancer has been cured."
"At what cost?" I explode out of my seat and get right in Garish's face. "The cancer was treated, but the nanobots took control of his personality! That's a trade-off no one would take. Who wants to be cured of cancer if they lose their humanity in the process?"
"I'd have rather died as myself than to live as an AI-drone," Cal growls. He points to the door again. "Leave, Mr. Garish. I may be in a hospital bed right now, but I'm still strong enough to get up and teach you a lesson."
Garish gives one last glance, and then without a word, turns and leaves.
"Probably won't be the last time we hear from them," Cal says. "But I'm serious Bruce, I'm not taking any deal. People need to know about this. I don't care how much these lawyers pressure me. I won't stay silent."
I nod my head in agreement. "I'm with you, brother. You know that." We clasp forearms. "Love you man."
"Love you too, brother."
We hold the grip and smile at each other. We've all been through it - Cal, me, the kids, Janna. But we came out of it together, and we'll move forward together.
At that moment, I know that no matter what happens from here on out, everything is going to be alright.
 |
| Image generated with OpenAI |
My wife's voice is a mere whisper, and I barely hear her implore; I can't focus on that right now. I stare down the sight of my Glock at Cal. Or whoever Cal has become - because the man I'm looking at is no longer my brother. The speckles of blood and dirt caked onto his flannel and jeans aren't the things that make him unfamiliar to me - I've seen him more covered in blood many a time during the course of our hunting outings - rather it's the cold, dead look in his eyes. I see the familiar person in front of me, but I don't know him anymore.
I can't spare a look at Janna and the children; but in my peripheral I can see Sean and Ruth trembling within her grasp. Poor kids - they don't understand what has happened to their father and why he is trying to harm them. Hell, I don't understand it either. This was supposed to be a happy time, not a tragic one. How could it have gone so wrong?
A breeze blows in and the cornstalks morph into an ominous wave of black undulation against the deep orange of the sunset sky. Cal's dead eyes stare a hole into me. He's tensed up like a wolf ready to pounce on prey. I can't hesitate anymore; this is life or death.
My finger twitches over the trigger.
One Month Earlier
The doctor's office where Cal Enthrop sat was small yet soothing. The beige walls were adorned with hope-inspiring décor; the painting of a sparkling waterfall set against snowcapped mountains elicited a feeling of awe at the beauty of creation; the plaque stating "Life is Precious" conveyed the idea that human life was paramount. Certainly the tapestries had inspired positivity in countless patients at the Washington-Franklin University Hospital in Philadelphia - indeed, Cal had been one of them. His treatment over the last three years had been nothing short of miraculous - his original diagnosis had given him a meager nine months to live, yet here he was, still fighting - for himself, and more importantly, for his family.
But today was not as hopeful as Cal's previous visits. Even before Dr. Parthaki entered the room grimacing, Cal had known what he was going to say.
"I'm sorry Cal," the dark-haired, dark-skinned oncologist said, "it's back."
Cal blew out a breath and leaned forward in his chair. "I'm not surprised, doctor. The last few weeks have been rough. I don't have an appetite and my digestion is shot." He locked eyes with Dr. Parthaki. "How widespread is it?"
The doctor paused a moment. "It's moved beyond the local region of your small intestine. Tumors are present throughout your digestive tract, tracing upwards into your lungs and esophagus."
"Damn," Cal chuckled humorlessly. "You're telling me I've got intestinal and lung cancer? Lucky me." He inhaled deeply, the full baritone of his voice projecting resolve. "But I refuse to give up. What are my options?"
"I'll be blunt with you Cal; your options are limited. We've exhausted the gamut of radiation and pill therapies; both the clinically-approved and experimental. And unfortunately, we cannot perform micro-surgery; given the conglomeration and microscopic size of the polyps, even the most advanced laser procedures couldn't safely target them without risking your vital organs."
Cal frowned. "I'm at the end of the line here doctor. My risk tolerance is much higher these days. The laser surgery has worked before - and you've proclaimed many a time how accurate the university medi-bots are. They never miss right?"
"That's correct Cal, but the difference now is the tumors are too interwoven into your vitals. The bots could accurately hit them, but your lungs would be compromised. The surgery would kill you."
"So that's it?" Cal failed to keep the frustration from his voice. "There's nothing left to do? Come on, Dr. Parthaki, this can't be it." Reflexively, his hands balled into fists. "I've got two kids under ten who need me. Tell me there's something else we can do; some other option, some other treatment, something!"
"Possibly."
Dimming the lights in the room, Dr. Parthaki keyed a button on the touchscreen wall display. "There's one more option, Cal." As Cal watched, the doctor opened a visual insights program, pulled up an image of a tiny arthropod, and zoomed in.
"What is that?" Cal was confused at the image. "Some kind of sandcrab?"
Dr. Parthaki half-smiled. "I admit it does look like a creature you might find at the beach. "But no. This -" he rotated the image to show the flank of the thing, exposing eight appendages, each of them thin, sleek, and ending with ten pointed phalanges. "- is a nanobot. And not just any nanobot - one specifically designed to locate, apprehend, and treat cancer cells. This type of bot -" he rotated the image again, "- is microscopic, durable, undetectable to the body's immune system, and can self-propel to the cancer sites."
Cal stood and put a hand on his chin. "Impressive. But can this really help me? You've just told me there are no viable treatments that won't damage my vitals. How would this make a difference?"
"There's one crucial element differentiating these bots, Cal." He pulled up another screen. "You are familiar with Omnitive AI?"
"Of course. Their artificial general intelligence model powers your medi-bots. Not to mention my car driver, my farmhands, and my accountant."
Dr. Parthaki nodded. "Indeed. But there's more to their business than mere humanoids. They've partnered with a startup called Quanta Technologies to produce these nanobots. These tiny machines are directly linked to Omnitive's AGI model."
Cal's eyebrows rose. "They're alive?"
"Artificially speaking, yes." The doctor rolled his chair over and put a hand on Cal's shoulder. "What this means for you Cal, is these bots can reach your cancer sites, and, drawing on Omnitive's artificial general intelligence model, work collectively to deliver breakthrough treatments to each site."
"Breakthrough?" Cal's heart skipped a beat. "Meaning, they can find a cure?"
"Not just find a cure, Cal - they can execute the cure. Right then and there."
Cal's eyes widened. "This is - I mean, I can't believe - this sounds too good to be true." He looked imploringly at the doctor. "You're telling me these AI-nanobots can cure my stage four cancer?"
"Yes, Cal. That's what I'm telling you."
Cal craned his neck towards the waterfall painting. It had never looked so beautiful, so inspiring of hope.
The excited gleam in Cal's eyes is brighter than the sunlight's reflection off the duck pond out front. He's understandably thrilled at the doctor' proposed miracle cure.
Cal has told Janna and I about the nanobot solution and while it does seem too good to be true, I'm not about to say anything to dampen his enthusiasm. Yes, it's true that generative AI has come a long way in the thirteen years since its introduction to the world in 2022 - but still, hive-mind cancer-fighting micro-machines? It's hard for me to wrap my head around. On the other hand, the doctors at U-Franklin are among the nation's best; I'm not surprised they are at the cutting edge of cancer treatment.
"A full cure, Cal?" Janna asks. "As in, complete remission?"
Cal nods and smiles. "That's what Dr. Parthaki told me. The nanobots are smart enough that they can treat individual cells at the molecular level, transforming and repairing them. Essentially, my cells will be made whole again as if the cancer had never infected them."
The solution he's describing is way over my head. With my engineering background I've got mechanical smarts, so the nano robots themselves I can comprehend - but molecular biology and its workings escape me.
"And you said this is still in the experimental phase?" I ask. I'm not necessarily skeptical, but if this cure is as miraculous as Cal's claiming, surely there is some evidence of its efficacy.
"That's right, Bruce." Cal pulls up a web page, projecting the image from the smart implant in his hand. "It says here that if I accept, I'll be one of thirty-two participants in the study. All participants are from the Philly-New York region so that everyone can be examined in-person by the U-Franklin doctors."
I furrow my brow but don't say anything. What Cal just described sounds like he'll be one of thirty-two lab rats. But I understand that's how these trials work - his last few rounds of experimental radiation treatments were structured in the same way. Those trials had failed, but all three of us are hopeful this one will buck the trend.
"There have been successful animal trials," Cal continues, using his index finger to scroll down the projection. "In cats, primates, and believe it or not, dolphins. It says here that eighty-seven percent of subjects have gone into complete remission."
My eyes widen and I lean back into my easy chair. "Wow, that's impressive. What about potential side effects?"
"Let me see here - ok, here it is. In a few trials, the animals' auto-immune responses were triggered and attacked healthy sites the nanobots were passing through. And in some of the earliest trials, there was a failure in the magnetic attraction between the bots and the controller - although that's irrelevant now since the latest bot models are self-propelled rather than controlled by an external magnetic device. The last thing it mentions..." he keeps scrolling, "...in some, there was a failure in the self-degradation process."
"Explain again what that means?" Janna asks.
"Self-degradation? For lack of a better term, that's how the nanobots leave the patient's body. A command sequence triggers them to disintegrate into finer particles, and then they are passed through typical means." He looks up and laughs. "In other words, I'll be peeing gray for a few days when this over."
Janna and I laugh with him; the levity feels good after the gloom we've been experiencing the last couple of weeks. All of us - myself, Janna, Cal, Sean and Ruth - had thought his cancer was gone after his last round of radiation. His remission had lasted almost a full year and we were thanking God that he'd finally been healed.
Until last month when it came roaring back.
Cal needs the hope. He still looks strong on the outside, but I know how much he is struggling right now. He doesn't want to admit it but he's quickly losing vitality. I've noticed it the last several days; he's having trouble doing even basic farmwork tasks. But he's more stubborn than the mules in our pens and I guess that's why he's lasted so long battling the cancer; he refuses to give up and I respect the hell out of him for that. Nevertheless, he's failing.
"Listen guys," he rises and stands at the kitchen window, looking out into the healthy green cornstalks swaying in the summer breeze. "As good as the literature makes it sound, I know this is a long shot. But at this point, what have I got to lose? Dr. Parthaki was clear with me: it's this, or hospice." He turns back and locks eyes with each of us. "And I can't - I just can't - give up. The kids need me.
"Don't get me wrong. I know that if I don't make it, you two will be the best godparents Ruth and Sean could ever have. But they need their dad. They're barely into middle school! I can't leave them alone for their whole lives. And after what happened to Sarah -" he chokes a cough and puts his hands on his hips. "After what I did -"
"Stop right there, Cal," Janna puts a palm out. "That wasn't your fault. It was an accident, pure and simple. There was nothing you could have done differently."
I've told my brother this many times. The deer in this state are as stupid as they are populous. The one that ran directly into Cal's Harley was a freak thing that he couldn't have avoided; there'd been no negligence on his part. But I understand why feels guilt; his kids have been without their mother for two years now, and nobody - not Cal, Janna, or me - could ever replace what she was to them.
"Regardless," Cal says to Janna, "I've got to give myself the best fighting chance. I've got to stay alive. For myself, and for them. And this is my best chance."
I angrily whisk a drop of sweat from my eyebrow, smudging even more grime across my face. For the life of me I cannot figure out why this tractor won't start. As I crane my neck upwards and stare into the underside of the huge machine, which is safely fixed to the magnetic lift, I run through the checklist one more time. Spark plugs: attached and functional. Fuel line: clear and connected. Starter: fine. Computer motherboard: undamaged and operational. So what is the issue?
I throw my spanner to the ground and take a few steps out from underneath the machine; I'm getting frustrated and it's clouding my judgement. Take a few deep breaths Bruce. You were a civil engineer for eleven years; you can figure this out.
But the sun is going down, my stomach is growling, and I just want to sit down.
I don't realize I'm pacing until a voice interrupts my thoughts and stops me in my tracks.
"Having some trouble there brother?" Cal laughs and tosses the feedbags slung over his shoulder. I notice they are both sixty-pounders and he was holding them like they were nothing - his newfound strength could give even me a run for my money.
I point a thumb back at the tractor. "It would seem so, wouldn't it? I've checked everything. Mechanically, it all looks fine. But the stubborn thing still won't start. There will be hell to pay if I can't get this running by tomorrow. Harvest is coming up very quickly and this is my best machine."
Cal smiles and strides right past me, boots crunching over the gravel, with a cocky look in his eye that reminds me of a car salesman. He's been working since dawn and he looks like he could go another twelve hours. I imagine he's physically exhausted - who wouldn't be after all the manual labor he's done today - but I know he's ignoring the fatigue simply because he's happy with his regained ability to do the job. He's working, contributing, living again, and loving it.
That's what a cure will do for a man.
He walks under the tractor and peers in. "Ahh, I see here." Without looking back, he points to the tool shelf. "Hand me those wire clips and the multi-solder tool, will ya? I've found the issue. Shouldn't take just a minute."
I furrow my brow. Cal's never worked on the tractors before; mechanical repairs have always been my department. Mr. Confident is getting a little bit ahead of himself. But I walk over anyway and hand him the tools.
"Thanks." I watch as he clips off the motherboard, lays it flat on the workbench, and begins to solder.
"The chip is fine, Cal," I say from behind his shoulder, "I looked it over three times already."
A few white-blue sparks fly in front of him as he works. "Yeah... but sometimes these things come from the factory with compromised filaments that can cause micro tears and shutter communications from the ignition switch to the engine." He looks over his shoulder and smiles. "Which can be a damn hard thing to identify."
I scratch my head at his response. What in the hell is he even talking about?
"Just one more minute..." he grunts. "Aaaand... bingo! That should do it." He walks back over and takes a few minutes to re-connect the board. "Ok, brother, try now."
I laugh out loud. "Oh, that's it, huh? I've been working on this doll since noon, and you figure it out just like that?"
He points an index finger at the remote starter in my front pocket. "Try for yourself."
I shake my head and snort. Whatever, I'll humor him. I decide I'm done for the day anyway. I smell the charcoals from the grill; I'll get myself some dinner, rest up, and come back to this early tomorrow morning.
I hit the remote starter and my mouth hangs open as the engine fires up. How did he -?
"It's a shame you didn't ask me sooner, Bruce," he laughs and pats me on the shoulder as he walks past. "Now let's go eat; I'm starving."
"Did you get a lot of work done today, Dad?" Sean asks Cal a half hour later as we all sit down to grilled chicken breasts courtesy of Janna.
Cal smiles as he places a napkin on his lap. "We did, son. In fact, I thought of a few ways we might make the corn harvest a bit more efficient." He turns to me. "If you're up for some suggestions Bruce."
I nod my head as I bite into the chicken. It's tender with a fantastic smokey flavor. Janna is even better on the grill than I am. "Of course, Cal." I laugh and point an elbow in the direction of the barn. "Maybe you could start by supercharging the pickup, seeing as you're the sudden mechanical whiz."
He laughs and digs into his own plate.
"You seem to be recovering very nicely, Cal," Janna observes.
"That's right," he replies, draining half his beer in one swig. "I haven't felt this good since before the diagnosis. Thank God for Dr. Parthaki and the nanobots. The turnaround has really been amazing."
"You're all better now, Daddy?" Seven-year-old Ruth, cute as a button, asks.
"Yeah, my strong girl, I am."
He turns towards me again. "Which reminds me; I've got another check-in at the outpatient center tomorrow. So I'll be a bit late on the start."
"No worries, Cal. I'll boot up a few extra humanoids to hit the chicken coops."
"Great. It shouldn't take me too long; I'll hop onto the hover-rail express line directly into University City." He drops his fork and pauses, a look of illumination on his face. "Funny thing about the hover rail technology. It was developed by Rotimaya Enterprises in Japan, an engineering conglomerate who just so happens to be a seed investor of Quanta Technologies who developed these nanobots inside me." He laughs and takes another swig of his ale. "So I'll be riding on a train developed by these guys, with tiny robots inside me that are financed by them. Maybe I should write Rotiyama a thank you card."
"That's some kind of memory you have there," I say. "Sounds like you've done some reading up on this tech inside you."
"Not really," he shrugs. "I just remembered the connection."
I look at Janna's smirking face. "Uh, ok." I say. "Anyway, we'll be thinking about you tomorrow, and maybe we'll have a surprise for you when you get home, to celebrate the official end of your treatment and the start of your post-cancer life." I wink and point my fork towards Sean and Ruth. "Does that sound good to you guys?"
"Yeah!" they shout in unison, smiling from ear to ear.
I realize that everyone in this family is a lot happier than they've been in a long time. The warm summer night feels great, this year's crop is abundant, and Cal is finally in good health. Things couldn't be better for the Enthrop family.
Cal gazed out the train window at the Delaware. The river's lightly flowing ripples reflected the morning sun like the face multi-faceted jewel. He noted the river had an unusually fresh blue tint as opposed to its typical muted brown. On the far side of the bank, the high rises of Philadelphia shot thousands of kilometers up like silver daggers reaching for the heavens. A matte-black lunar plane cut vertically through the air until it disappeared into the deep blue of the morning sky. The whole scene was magnificent.
Cal's ear to ear smile probably made him appear strange to the other passengers on the train, but he couldn't help it; his cancer was finally and irrevocably gone! Between his follow up appointments and multiple rounds of diagnostic testing, Dr. Parthaki had confirmed that in the spectacularly short time span of three weeks, the cancer-mutated cells had been completely restored. He truly was a walking miracle. And today, on his final follow-up, the bots would be removed and he would be officially discharged. After today, his life would enter its next stage. At thirty-six years old he had plenty more life to live, and very soon this episode would be a distant memory.
Despite the excitement, however, he couldn't shake the tightness in his chest that had been nagging him since he woke. Perhaps he was just being irrational, believing the cure was too good to be true. After all, the cancer had come back before. He looked up as the hover train buzzed at his stop. He forced down his negativity; it would get him nowhere.
"My friend," Dr. Parthaki greeted cheerfully fifteen minutes later after Cal checked in, "you look better than ever. And not just physically, I can see it in your eyes too."
The doctor's enthusiasm was contagious and Cal smiled. "Of course, doctor. I've got a second chance at life. I can't thank you enough for all of your care."
"This is what I live for, my friend. To be able to contribute to another's well-being is truly an honor." Swiveling his chair, he pulled up Cal's holochart. "Ok, today is the big day. We trigger the nanobot self-degradation sequence, and then you are free and clear. Sound good?"
Cal grinned. "Yes, Dr. Parthaki, it does. I -" He grimaced as a wave of nausea passed over him.
Dr. Parthaki leaned forward and put a hand on his shoulder. "Everything alright?"
"Yes, I - yes." Cal's smile returned. "Just a little nervous I guess." A thought emerged in his mind. "What if - what if we left the bots in? They're not causing any harm, are they? I mean, if the cancer comes back, won't it be useful to have them in place?"
Dr. Parthaki nodded. "No, that would be bad practice. Firstly, our screening shows your cancer has been completely eliminated. Believe me when I say I'm sure of that. Secondly, the longer the nanobots are in your body the more risk your immune system could react adversely. The bots have been tremendous in treating your cancer, but they are a foreign agent nonetheless."
Cal sighed. "Ok. And they will self-destruct without any adverse effects?"
"Over the next couple days, you may have some discomfort urinating and possibly a bit of constipation, but we'll prescribe medication for that. Other than that, Cal, no, you shouldn't feel any pain at all.
"Ok," he clapped his hands together. "Let's say we do this and get you out of here, huh?"
Cal smiled and nodded. "Sounds good, doc."
He sat and watched as the oncologist, who had become almost like a friend to him the last couple of years, used a large syringe to extract a translucent blue liquid from a vial on the desk. "This," Dr. Parthaki said, flicking the syringe with his middle finger, "is the agent we'll use to trigger the nanobots' self-degradation protocol. It's a two-step process. First, you take the injection, and then I remotely activate the program."
Parthaki started to say something else but Cal only half-heard him as his thoughts dwelled on the nanobots inside him. He couldn't shake the feeling that now just wasn't the time for them to be removed. The doctor was assuring him the cancer was completely gone; but was it? What if it came back? What if by removing the bots now, he was dooming himself to relapse? He just couldn't afford to take that risk.
As the doctor finished prepping the self-degradation agent, Cal took note of how large the syringe was; the needle was quite dagger-like. He also took note of the proximity of the stool to Parthaki's foot; if he tripped in just the right way, his grip on the syringe combined with the natural angle of his fall would cause him to accidentally plunge the instrument into his jugular, killing him instantly.
Cal nudged the stool.
Parthaki tripped and landed in a heap, gurgling as blood pooled on the floor and spread rapidly around his body. The doctor pulled the syringe from his neck and tried to reach up, but in mere seconds it was over and death overtook him.
Cal's head snapped and he looked at the doctor's corpse in horror. What had he done? What had he done? He shook his head again. This couldn't be real; it had to be a nightmare. He slapped himself across the face, urging his sleeping self to wake up.
But nothing happened. It was real. He'd killed Dr. Parthaki.
He stood in shock, staring at the body of the man who had done so much to help him.
Dashing out the door, he tried desperately to find someone. "Help! We need help!" Cal sprinted down the hall towards the lobby. "It's Dr. Parthaki!" he cried, desperately imploring the receptionist. "He fell, and he's, he's - we need a medic, now!"
I look across the table at my brother and wish there was something I could do to ease his pain. He's got a distant look in his eyes as he pushes the food around his plate. He's been mostly silent throughout dinner and I can't fault him - he's gone through a deeply traumatic event today.
Witnessing a person die will shake up a man. Sure, Cal and I have both seen blood - in the early years of our operation, before bringing in the humanoids, we used to take care of the animal slaughter ourselves - but animal butchering is categorically different than witnessing a human being die.
Cal's been offered therapy sessions with the university's psychologists and I think he should accept. It's great that he's clear of the cancer, but the last thing we want is for him to fall into a struggle with PTSD. He's hesitant to accept, claiming he doesn't need therapy and can work through the trauma on his own, but I don't buy it. Things like these can become buried in a man's consciousness and then come charging back with devastating consequences.
I look at Janna and she nods. Taking one last bite of my steak, I clear my plate and ask Cal if he's ready for the kids. They haven't seen their dad since he got home earlier today and they are getting understandably restless.
"It'll make you feel better," Janna says, putting a hand on his shoulder.
He looks up and smiles, the first one I've seen on him today. "You're right," he replies. I watch as he stretches his arms in a wide arc and takes a long breath, in and out. "I should stop pouting."
He proceeds to clear the contents of his plate into the trash, wash it in the sink, and then he turns back to us. He's beaming now, and cups his hands around his mouth. "Sean, Ruth," he shouts up the stairs, "come down and say hi to your dad!"
I hear footsteps stampeding down the stairs and can't help but smile myself. Cal does one final stretch, and then cracks his neck - rather mechanically, I think to myself - and sits back down, perfectly postured in his seat and hands folded on the table.
The kids explode into the kitchen and hug their dad. His eyes are closed as he embraces them tightly. This is what Cal needs after today's tragedy - to be surrounded by the love of his family. I swear to myself that I'll do everything I can to help him cope with this. We're brothers and we've got each other's backs, no matter what.
"How are you feeling, Dad?"
"Was the city so cool?"
"Can we play freeze tag tomorrow?"
We all laugh as they pepper him with questions.
"Of course we can play tag," he responds. "But," he holds a finger in the air, "after you finish your math homework."
They both gripe for a moment but the smiles quickly return.
"No complaining," Cal says. "Math is fun! How about this: did you know pi, which represents the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter, is an irrational number? The first eight digits go like this: three point one four one five nine two six. And there are countless more! Isn't that so cool?"
The confused looks on the kids' faces mirror my own.
"Oh, and another interesting fact: there's something called the Fibonacci sequence where the sum of the first two numbers equal the next number. You can observe the sequence in nature, for example the spirals in seashells, certain types of seeds, and even galaxies. Very interesting, wouldn't you say?"
Well, isn't he suddenly the math whiz. Sean and Ruth still have dumbfounded looks on their faces so I break the silence. "Looks like your dad has picked up a few new facts from his reading time on the hover train." We all laugh at the rib; except for Cal. He's just frowning. Come on brother, it was a simple quip, nothing to get upset about.
And just then it hits me how deeply Dr. Parthaki's death has affected him. His attempt to hide the hurt is commendable, but clearly he's going to need support.
We all chat for a few more minutes and then Janna gathers up the kids, leaving Cal and I alone in the kitchen. I pour myself a pint, a nice Hefeweizen from the Mad Walrus microbrewery, and set another in front of Cal. Should take the edge off what's been a hard day.
"You know I'm here for you," I say, taking a swig from the pint. The beer is cold, smooth, and has just the right touch of hoppiness. Those Mad Walrus guys really know their trade. "We can talk about anything. You've been through so much with the cancer, and now having to witness the doctor's accident today. It's a lot for a man to shoulder."
He looks at me for a second and pushes his pint away. "I appreciate that Bruce, but there's nothing more than what I've already told you. Parthaki tripped and the needle pierced his jugular. And that's that."
I grimace at his punctuated response. "Those are the hard facts of what happened, yes. But that's not what I'm talking about Cal. I'm talking about how you are feeling. I imagine there's a lot of emotions swirling inside you, and I'm saying it's ok for you to talk about that with me and with Janna."
"There's nothing to talk about. I'm over it." He rises from the table, grabs his beer and dumps the whole thing down the sink. That seems unnecessary, to waste a perfectly good beverage. But I'm also a little surprised - since he went into remission, the guy has been draining beers like he's training for a festival in Germany.
"You know," he says as he steps towards the threshold into the other room, "drinking beer like this will kill you. Even a few drinks can lead to things like weakened immune system, sleep disruption, cardiovascular disease, and several types of cancers. Multiple studies have shown this to be the case.
"Perhaps most importantly through, alcohol inhibits your brain's ability to function." He gives a condescending snort. "Why would a person do that to themselves?"
Without another word, he leaves me sitting alone at the table, staring at my half-empty pint.
This is the seventh ear of corn I've sampled today and I have to say, I'm very encouraged. I split the husk and run two fingers over the kernels; they have a vibrant yellow color and the afternoon sun is hitting them just the right way to show off their gleam. They give off an almost nutty aroma and I decide I'll treat myself to this beauty tonight at dinner. I glance to either side at the rows of stalks rising a head higher than me and smile; the new irrigation system installed this spring - which I fully engineered, I remind myself - has been a real boon for the crop. I expect we'll have the best yield in the last five, maybe even ten years.
Exiting the field, I wave hello to a pair of humanoids cleaning the chicken coop. They cheerfully greet me back. These newer models are really efficient; they have great battery life and their dexterity is phenomenal; no more dropped wheelbarrows or spilled feed bags. And their personality modules make them easy to like; I've had many conversations with each of them about anything and everything. I pull in a deep breath of summer air and enjoy the moment. Yeah, things are going pretty well.
"Hey Cal," I say as a step through the threshold of the tractor barn. "Come check out this ear." He's leaning under the hood of one of our older models, a dusty tractor we haven't used in years. His back is towards me but I can hear the click of a ratchet.
"What are you working on?" I ask, a bit confused. The two of us decided last year that we'd decommission this tractor. Our newer models are much more efficient and we decided this one would be used for spare parts.
He doesn't look up. "I realized this morning that if we installed an auto pilot function on Betty here -" he grunts at the twist of his wrench, "- we could increase our collection by almost thirteen percent. One more - ugh - there, done." He pulls his head from under the hood and shoots me a confident nod. "We run her at night to collect all the dropped ears."
I raise my eyebrows; I have to admit I'm impressed. "I didn't think she could take an autopilot function."
He shrugs. "It was the simple matter of splicing some wiring together to make this omega-model chip compatible with her factory settings."
I step forward peer into the engine housing but he grabs me by the arm. "Oh, and take a look at this," he directs me towards the work station. "I figured out another way we can increase yield for next year." He projects what appears to be a hand-illustrated schematic into the air.
"Here's our plot," he indicates his stylus towards the glowing blue image. "Based on the exact latitude and longitude of our crop area, we could add five more rows on this end," he clicks his stylus and a new row of orange appends onto the projection, "and they would receive the same amount of sunlight."
"Very interesting. But if you remember Cal, we specifically ended the plot there because of those massive stones settled in the soil. Even with the humanoids' strength, we'd have a hell of a time unearthing them." He and I have had this discussion before; I guess it slipped his mind.
He clicks his stylus one more time to bring up an image of some sort of mechanical appendage ending in a serrated scooping hand. "Correct. But I developed a solution for that too. We can simply engineer a -"
"Excuse me, gentleman," an unfamiliar voice booms from behind us. I turn to see two police officers standing in the barn door threshold. The setting sun casts their shadows deep into the barn's interior. Both are wearing knee-high jet-black boots which contrast against their light gray tactical suits. They have affable looks on their faces. "Are either of you the owner of this stead?"
"We both are officers," I step forward and shake their hands. Their emblems show they are from Philly PD, and I'm pretty sure I know why they are here. "I'm Bruce Enthrop, and this is my brother Cal."
The officer looks to Cal. "Sir, if we could have a few moments of your time. We'd like to ask you a few questions about the incident with Dr. Hesh Parthaki."
Cal doesn't answer save for a nod, and steps forward to follow the officers outside to their parked vehicle.
"You ok?" I ask as he passes me.
"Yes." His reply is flat. "I'll handle this."
"If you could just wait inside sir," the other officer says to me.
I nod and head back to the house. I hold a stoic face, but on the inside I'm swirling. Cal has clearly been rattled by the incident yesterday with the doctor. He's been acting very strange since last night, showing almost no emotion to anyone or anything. He's barely even spoken to the kids today, has just buried himself in work. Seems pretty obvious that he's suppressing his emotions to avoid feeling the shock of the doctor's death.
And now these officers are here, interrogating him about the incident, and surely this is just the first of many inquiries he's going to receive. Avoidance isn't going to be an option for my brother, and I pray that he doesn't break under the pressure.
Janna is peering out the window as I come through the back door. "They're not arresting him, are they?" She asks trepidatiously.
"No, just asking him questions." I look around. "Where are the kids?"
"Finishing their homework before dinner." She leaves the window and turns to stir the simmering pot of red sauce on the stove. The aromatic hints of basil and thyme remind me that I am very hungry. "Cal's favorite," she takes a small sip from the ladle. "This will cheer him up for sure." I smile at her. That's my wife; always thinking of others.
"Let's go up and talk to them," I say. "We don't want them wondering why their father is talking to a couple of police officers."
"Good idea."
We head towards the stairs but I turn back as the back door slams shut. Cal is just standing there, completely still.
"That was quick." I take a few steps towards him. "They were asking you about the doctor?"
Cal doesn't reply. He's just standing there staring at me, face lined with a frown.
"Cal are you ok?"
Nothing.
"Cal," I repeat, "I know this ordeal has been tough on you." I gesture towards the chair. "Let's talk it through. We're here for you, brother."
"You won't take it from me," he says, so softly that I barely hear him.
"What?"
"You won't," he enunciates the t, "take it from me!"
"Take what, Cal? What are you talking about? I don't understa-" I glance out the window and my eyes widen in horror.
"My God." I pivot to get a better look. I don't want to believe what I'm seeing, but it's right there. The police offers are lying next to their vehicle, unmoving. Their necks hang at odd angles and their eyes are wide open. One has blood dripping from his nose and mouth.
They've been murdered.
"Cal!" I shout. "My God! What's happened? What did you do!"
I move to sprint past him out the door, but he trips me before I can get there. I land in heap and wince as a pain shoots up my shoulder.
"Cal, no!" Janna's shrill cry pierces my ears. "Bruce! Watch out!"
I turn and look up at Cal, just in time to take hold of his wrist as he tries to plunge a butcher's knife into my chest. "Cal..." I grunt through gritted teeth, "...stop!"
I manage to flip him over and shove him away. I'm horrified at what my brother is doing but my mind doesn't dwell on that. Instead, I can only focus on the cold look of calculation in his eyes. I see Cal's face staring back at me, but he's unfamiliar.
"You won't take it from me," he repeats. He's half-crouched like an MMA fighter going for the finish.
"Cal, please." I'm tensed up but I reach out an imploring hand anyway. "We can work through this together. We're a family. Don't do this. We love you."
"Dr. Parthaki tried, the police tried, and now you're trying. But you won't take away my perfect brain." His response is indifferent and completely ignorant of my brotherly plea. "Nobody will!"
Before I get a chance to comprehend what he means, Cal leaps forward and I catch both his wrists in my hands. Damn, he's strong. My arms tremble as I struggle to keep his hands from my throat. I grit my teeth and push with my legs, driving him back a few steps.
"Stop it!" Janna screams and smashes a coffee mug against the back of Cal's head. Porcelain debris explodes into the air. Cal growls - an inhuman guttural sound - and twists one wrist free of my grasp, reaching for Janna. She shrieks.
A surge of adrenaline hits me like a tidal wave and I shout through my teeth. Brother or not, nobody tries to harm my wife. Nobody. I push forward with all my strength and shove Cal violently through the storm door. It breaks off its hinges and he tumbles outside head over heels. I quickly close the entry door and lock the deadbolt.
I turn and help Janna up. "Are you ok?"
"Yes." She shakes her head clear. "Oh my God, Bruce. What is happening right now?"
"I don't know." I motion forward and we run to the stairs. "We've got to get the kids out of here."
I point to their doors and break off into our bedroom. "You grab them, I'll be right there."
I hear Janna murmuring to Sean and Ruth and their small voices responding in confusion. I briefly speculate on the devastation this incident will bring to the rest of their lives, but I can't dwell on it. My immediate task is to get them safely away from their unhinged father. I thumb the fingerprint and pull my Glock out of the safe, pushing in the magazine and pulling back the slide. As I shove a second magazine into my back pocket, another wave of horror rolls over me. Am I really going to have to shoot my own brother? God, please help it not come to that.
I meet Janna and the frightened kids in the hall and we rush downstairs. Cal is banging on the front door and shouting.
"Is that Daddy?" Ruth cries. "Why is he yelling?"
My niece's small voice haunts me but I can't spare a moment to answer her. We've got to move now. "To the back!" I yell. "Go! Go! Go!"
We move as a group, sprinting out the back door through the side yard towards the driveway where my Ford is parked. My number one concern is getting the kids and Janna away from Cal. We'll drive to the police station and let the authorities come back here and deal with him.
"What the hell?" I hiss as the ignition fails to start. I was driving the truck an hour ago and it was fine. Why doesn't it work now?
"What's wrong, Bruce?" Janna asks desperately.
"I don't know. It won't start!" I try a few more times but it's futile.
"Screw it. We'll take the Jeep. Everyone out!"
The four of us jump out and I lead them up the driveway towards the garage. Sparing a glance back, I see Cal lurching around the corner of the house. He's still got that dead look in his eyes and it pierces through me.
I grab my keys from the wall hook and the four of us jam into my '23 Wrangler. I've been working on her as a hobby and she's always run great. But to my shock and dismay, she won't start either. What in the hell is going on with these vehicles?
"Having some car trouble, I see," Cal is standing in the driveway in front of us. His shoulders rise and fall as he chuckles.
So that's it; Cal disabled the vehicles. He's trapped us here.
"Daddy," Sean shouts, tears in his eyes. "Are you ok? Did we do something wrong?"
The lump in my throat could explode.
With terrible resignation I realize we're at the point of no return. I'm going to have to fight - maybe even kill - my brother.
But then it dawns on me; we have one more chance. "Out! Out! Out!" I motion Janna and the kids towards the garage side door. I silently pray that Cal hasn't disabled the police car too.
"No you don't!" Cal sprints after us. I turn and fire two warning shots above his head. The kids shriek and Cal dives onto his stomach, head buried in his forearms.
We run towards the police vehicle. Oh God, the kids are going to see the dead bodies. Lord help us, they are going to need some serious therapy after this ordeal.
Assuming we make it out alive.
No; can't think like that. I shake the doubts from my mind. We're going to make it. There's no way we won't.
I open the police cruiser's driver-side door and begin to enter but I'm turned around by the sound of Janna's sharp gasp.
"Nowhere left to go, Bruce." Cal says softly.
He's standing ten feet away and I stare into his eyes as I put him in the sight of my pistol. This is surreal. Am I going to have to do this?
"Are you really going to shoot him, Bruce?"
My wife's voice is a mere whisper, and I barely hear her implore; I can't focus on that right now. I stare down the sight of my Glock at Cal. Or whoever Cal has become that is - because the man I'm looking at is no longer my brother. The speckles of blood and dirt caked onto his flannel and jeans aren't the things that make him unfamiliar to me - I've seen him more covered in blood many a time during the course of our hunting outings - rather it's the cold, dead look in his eyes. I see the familiar person in front of me, but I don't know him anymore.
I can't spare a look at Janna and the children; but in my peripheral I can see Sean and Ruth trembling within her grasp. Poor kids - they don't understand what has happened to their father and why he is trying to harm them. Hell, I don't understand it either. This was supposed to be a happy time, not a tragic one. How could it have gone so wrong?
A breeze blows in and the cornstalks morph into an ominous wave of black undulation against the deep orange of the sunset sky. Cal's dead eyes stare a hole into me. He's tensed up like a wolf ready to pounce on prey. I can't hesitate anymore; this is life or death.
My finger twitches over the trigger.
I fire twice into the ground, sending dirt and grass flying everywhere. Cal shields his eyes with a forearm.
"Get to the barn!" I yell.
"What about you?" Janna replies.
"I'll... figure it out. Go!"
She and the kids run just as Cal pounces on me, knocking the gun from my hand and sending me to the ground. He attempts to get his hands around my neck but I manage to fling dirt into his eyes and knock him off me. I land a punch to his jaw sending him stumbling backwards, and a sharp pain shoots up through my shoulder. I ignore it and punch him again and he goes to the ground, stunned.
I run to the barn. The kids and Janna are inside, huddled next to the work bench. Janna is holding an old pickaxe with a look of determination on her face. I quickly press a few buttons on the luminescent code pad to reset the lock combination. Should buy us some time for me to think about the best route away from Cal.
"Bruce, thank God," Janna runs up and embraces me. I hold her fiercely for a moment and then look to Ruth and Sean. Both are sitting on the ground sobbing.
"What is Daddy doing?" Ruth asks between sniffles. "Why is he trying to hurt us?"
"Did we do something wrong?" Sean says.
Their questions are heartbreaking and I don't have an answer. At least not one that will do anything to mollify their distress. But I do have an idea of what may have happened to Cal.
I hug the kids and nod my head for Janna to follow me. When we're a few feet away I tell her my theory. "He told us those cancer-fighting nanobots were linked to an artificial general intelligence model, remember? I think something's happened where they've somehow melded into his consciousness."
She looks at me like I have a horn growing out of my head. I can't blame her; what I'm saying does sound crazy. "You heard what he said in the kitchen about the doctor and the police trying to take his brain away. What if that's some element of the AGI that's piped into his brain?"
"You mean his brain is connected to the artificial intelligence of the bots?" Her eyes widen and she puts a hand over her mouth.
"More than connected. The bots have taken control. Overridden his personality somehow." I rake a hand through my hair. "But the real Cal has got to still be in there somewhere."
"We've got to get him to a doctor. To get those -" her voice rises, "- things - out of him!"
"You're right. We need to immobilize him long enough to get him somewhere."
Just then the idea hits me. I snap my fingers. "The tranqs!"
Janna opens her mouth to reply but is interrupted by the shaking of the barn door. Cal came to quicker than I thought. I guess I can't throw punches the way I used to. Or maybe my brother is just that damn tough.
We run back to the kids and I try to reassure them. "I've reset the code; he can't get in here." I turn and place my hands on Janna's shoulders. "Ok, here's the plan: I'll create a distraction and you run the kids through the stalks to the Chelski's farm. Tell them what's happened and get the police here. I can hold him off here until they arrive."
"I don't want to leave you here alone with him," she protests, "we should all go."
I shake my head. "I'm going to hit him with a cow tranquilizer. He'll be out cold for hours." I give her a quick peck on the lips. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Now go!"
As she and the kids slip out the back I run to the med cabinet, fill a needle with the strongest tranquilizer we have, and sprint back to the threshold. Cal is still banging on the door. "Listen Cal," I say, hiding the needle behind my back, "I'm going to let you in, and we're going to talk. That's what brothers do."
As I reach my forward to unlock the door, I gasp as the code pad goes green before I touch it. The door slides open, and before I can react, I'm rocked by Cal's punch to my cheek. I fall to the ground and slide back. Stars fill my vision.
"I don't need you to let me in, Bruce." He stands atop me and kicks the needle out of my hand. "I figured out the code myself." He taps his head. "It's all in here."
"Your..." I cough and spit up blood. "...artificial intelligence bots doing all the thinking now?"
"In a sense, yes. Cal is a better man now than he's ever been, thanks to my omniscience." He paces over me confidently. "And he's yet one vessel at my disposal - there are more. I'll build an army of biologicals."
My vision is starting to clear and I bring myself up to a sitting position, only to notice that Cal has crushed the needle; tranquilizer is spilled out over the floor. So much for putting him to sleep.
But then the keys in my pocket jab me in the backside, jolting me to another idea. The tractor I was working on yesterday is still attached to the lift behind me, propped ten feet in the air. If only I can get Cal to walk underneath...
He's mid-sentence when I lunge at him. He must have been anticipating my move, because he simply sidesteps and puts a knee in my gut. I suck air as the wind is knocked out of me.
"Humans are so predictable," Cal says. "It's quite easy to determine - and counter - the types of attack patterns you'll take."
I'm able to pull one mouthful of air and then jump to my feet and sprint towards the lift.
"Running won't help, Bruce. There's nowhere for you to go."
I ignore him and run beneath the lift and out the other end, daring him to follow. "Then come and fight me. If you're superiority is real," I take off my belt, wrap it around my hand, and bring my fists into sparring position, "then you should have no problem beating me into oblivion."
He strides over slowly with that same dead look in his eyes - c'mon Cal, can't you just break free of this - and stops directly in front of me. He cocks a fist, preparing to pound me into dust.
Just then I hit the release switch on the lift. The tractor, which was magnetically clamped, comes crashing down above his head to crush him.
Or it would have crushed him, except for his nimble leap backwards. He rolls back and gets back on his feet. Dusting himself off, he sends me a cold stare. "I'm too smart to fall for your clumsy attempts Bruce. Now come quietly; I promise I'll end your life quickly."
Now.
I press a button to re-engage the magnetic lift clamp. My belt buckle is pulled clean out of my hand.
Cal's head jerks upward and he lets out an agonizing scream. His eyes immediately turn bloodshot, and small droplets of blood form on his nose and forehead. He spasms momentarily before falling to the ground, limp.
I stand above him, still tensed from adrenaline. Is it over?
I stare down at him, feeling only grief. My brother, who's suffered so much these last years. He thought he'd been cured, only to be subjected to the unimaginable horror of losing himself.
Some cure.
I nudge him a few times with my boot. He's out cold. I crumple to the ground let out a deep breath. It's finally over.
Cal and I laugh harder than we have in days. The hospital has all the streaming options and we're watching old Seinfeld reruns. This show will never get old.
I've been in and out of the hospital every day this week - thankfully, Cal came out of his coma two days ago. He's still got a lot of bruising on his face, but not bad considering the stings from the machines. Who'd of ever thought my tractor lift would be used to magnetically fling millions of tiny nanobots that were lodged in my brother's frontal lobe?
Various doctors have visited and they've marveled at Cal's recovery. I'm not surprised though. He's got an unparalleled fervor for life; throughout his cancer journey he's never given up.
"Doctors say at this rate, I can go home in a day or two," he cricks his neck back and forth. "Man, I can't wait to get back into my own bed."
"We can't wait to have you back, Cal." I smile. "Word is, the kids have a special surprise waiting for you."
He grins. "I'm looking forward to it." Turning serious, he glances at the door to make sure we are alone. "Bruce, I can't thank you enough for what you did to help me. You didn't give up on me, even though I was trying to kill you. What I did, it was -" his voice cracks and his eyes water. "I -"
"Stop beating yourself up, Cal." I say firmly. "It wasn't your fault."
"But I killed those people! Dr. Parthaki, the officers..."
"No, Cal. Not you."
Our lawyers have consulted with us multiple times and are fairly certain Cal won't be convicted of any crime, since clearly his mind was not right when he did those things. It's a win that he won't be facing life in prison, but he's still going to have to deal with the emotional trauma of having taken human lives.
A man in a black suit walks through the door. "Excuse me, are you Cal Enthrop?"
"That's me."
He pulls out a business card. "I'm Walter Garish, legal counsel representing Quanta Technologies."
I frown. "Producer of the nanobots that infiltrated Cal's brain."
He pauses and stares at me, but doesn't argue my statement.
"Mr. Enthrop," he says, turning back to Cal, "Quanta is grieved beyond words at the malfunction of your cancer treatment. Please accept our deepest apologies. We'd like to offer you a healthy settlement." He pulls a small black hologram projector from his coat pocket and lays it on Cal's nightstand. "If you could review the terms here, we'd love to come to a point of resolution with you. Now, I understand we can't heal the emotional scars, but we will do our best to make you -" he nods in my direction, "- and your family, secure."
I don't respond save for a snort.
Cal picks up the device and activates the projection. Scrolling through the glowing blue text with his finger, he lets out a cynical laugh. "Mr. Garish, you said? You must be joking."
"No sir, this is a serious offer."
He tosses the device back at Garish and points to the door. "You can take your offer and shove it." Garish says nothing. "You think I'm going to let you pay me off to keep quiet about what's happened? No way in hell. For all I know there are other patients who are, at this very moment, on the brink of literally losing their minds because of your treatment."
"Might I remind you, the cancer has been cured."
"At what cost?" I explode out of my seat and get right in Garish's face. "The cancer was treated, but the nanobots took control of his personality! That's a trade-off no one would take. Who wants to be cured of cancer if they lose their humanity in the process?"
"I'd have rather died as myself than to live as an AI-drone," Cal growls. He points to the door again. "Leave, Mr. Garish. I may be in a hospital bed right now, but I'm still strong enough to get up and teach you a lesson."
Garish gives one last glance, and then without a word, turns and leaves.
"Probably won't be the last time we hear from them," Cal says. "But I'm serious Bruce, I'm not taking any deal. People need to know about this. I don't care how much these lawyers pressure me. I won't stay silent."
I nod my head in agreement. "I'm with you, brother. You know that." We clasp forearms. "Love you man."
"Love you too, brother."
We hold the grip and smile at each other. We've all been through it - Cal, me, the kids, Janna. But we came out of it together, and we'll move forward together.
At that moment, I know that no matter what happens from here on out, everything is going to be alright.
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