Aydan Murdoch

Who thought those square, fluorescent lights were a good idea? You see them everywhere. In the slightly run down school classrooms on the south side of the city. In those tiny gas stations who still accepted cash. But the big one is hospitals. They are everywhere in hospitals. They make that buzzing sound when they get old that gets in your head. I never did nothing to go there, always caught in with the wrong people. Always assumed if one is on fent everyone is, but I never touched the stuff. I was clean, that’s why I was here. Why was I here?

The hallway. Right. Gotta walk down the hallway. That’s what they told me. Why couldn’t I see the end of it? There was a man there dressed in white. A doctor I think. It was hard to make out his face against his clothes against the wall against the floor against the buzzing fluorescent lights. White on white. He looked like an angel, Saint Peter at the gates of heaven. That’s what Tom always went on about, that he could see those pearly gates everytime he hit the tranq. I don’t think I’m on tranq. There was a voice, it had been calling for a while. I hadn’t even taken my first step yet.

“Come towards my voice Mr. Zhou. Try to keep your head forward and walk in as straight a line as you can,” the doctor said.

What was he a cop doing one of those phony sobriety tests? Well I gotta leave this place, get back to Lucky, he needs fed. The only way out is down the hallway, so I guess I’ll walk down the hallway. My first step startled me. I don’t know why it was so loud. Everything seemed so loud. My second step was better, I was ready for it. Sounded like a dumbbell being dropped onto the floor of one of those fancy gyms with the fake tile. The voice was calling out again. I had to stop to focus on it. Couldn’t hear and walk at the same time.

“That’s it Mr. Zhou, keep coming towards me. You can do it.”

I damn well know I can walk, been doing it since I was three. I remembered what it was like, taking those first steps, my feet staying stable on the brown carpet of the apartment. My sister was helping me, but mom wasn’t watching. I wanted to cry. Felt the tremble in my throat and the heat behind my eyes. I wanted to scream and pound the floor. Why did I want to cry?

The hallway. The hallway. Another couple steps later and I was past it. I suppose I was feeling nostalgic today. Dwelling on old heartaches was always a bad way to pass the time. Memory never helped me. I was finally at the door at the end of the hall. It was wooden with a golden number 6 on it. The lock looked like it had been replaced a few times. My hand trembled as I reached for the door knob. I held a knife in my hand that I stole from Mrs. White’s kitchen. I could hear yelling on the other side of the door.

Sirens erupted around me, my face pressed against the concrete. Against the white ceramic tiles. When had I fallen over? My knees and palms ached. I had definitely fallen over at some point. A puddle of tears pooled around my face, slowly draining into the gaps between the tiles. I grabbed at the wall and pulled myself to my feet. I was around a third of the way down the hallway and I couldn’t see the doctor anymore. Maybe he was getting help. Probably not.

The next step I took shot pain up my leg and I lurched. The fuck was that. In a moment the pain was gone. Was that why I fell? Why couldn’t I remember? It’s like I blacked out for a few seconds, but I’ve blacked out more than most in my life and it was never like that. When I got thrown into the metal bars at recess I blacked out. When my grades were failing and my dad found out. When I was slammed against the concrete surrounded by sirens. When I shoulder checked Grant, the fucking asshole. When I fell.

I remembered the smell of freshly cut grass, always associated it with the feeling. Like falling down a tunnel that doesn’t exist. A helmet snug on my head. My highschool coach screaming like a mad man. Would’ve made it big if I hadn’t taken that hit. Fucking Grant. It’s always hard to remember the couple seconds before you black out. Like, you get that still frame or a moment, but the actual event doesn’t feel like sticking around. Sometimes I don’t feel like sticking around. But I got Lucky. I got the ground beneath my feet. Even if it was cold ceramic tile. Always hated ceramic. Reminded me of my old pool, was a bitch to clean that thing.

When did I have a pool? Middle school? Highschool? No, I failed out of highschool. Or was it the injury? The doctor was back. I could make out a brown shape against his chest, but it was blurry. I think it was a coffee. My vision felt like I was looking through those crappy 3d glasses you would get at a movie theater. My left eye was seeing something different than my right. Maybe it was the fall, messed up my vision somehow. Concrete and sirens. Concrete and sirens. In the rain those apartment staircases get slippery. I’ve spent a lot of time amongst concrete. Remember the first time I found myself in a cell. There have been fifteen cells in total I have spent time in. The last one by far the longest but also the one I regretted the least. Only so many times you can sit there and watch it happen. Dad always knew I would eventually get bigger than him, tried to starve it out of me.

A burst of static echoed along the hallway like a thunderclap. I felt my right knee collapse under my weight as I let go of the wall and grabbed my ears. The doctor at the end of the hall was holding his radio. Everything was still so loud. I shut my eyes and held my ears to muffle the sound of the chatter. I didn’t move for a long time. Not until I was sure it had stopped. I slowly stood up again and tried to focus on the hallway. I needed to get out of here. An anxiety started to build in the back of my head and the hallway slipped away from me time after time. I couldn’t grab it. It was like the fishing trip I went on with pops. I lost that prize catch simply cause I couldn’t hold the damn thing. I started to grow frustrated as my eyes refused to focus, my legs refused to be stable beneath me.

I tried and tried again until for a brief moment everything went clear. A white hallway. White walls with white floors with white lights. A white man in a white coat with a brown coffee. I started to walk again. Every few steps the doctor took a sip of his coffee. One, two, three, drink. The rhythm helped keep me focused. Like clockwork I made progress. I remember Coach drilling us with a coffee in hand. I couldn’t make pops proud but I could make him proud. I was a star on the field, recruiting letters flooding my mailbox. Those where the fucking days. These white walls started to piss me off. They reminded me of the years spent trapped between four walls. A little cubicle with a little black phone. The sounds of keyboards clicking away drove me crazy. I mandated silent keyboards after my promotion cause of it. I would slam my head into the concrete walls of the cell just to feel something. Others played music, but I had no talent for it, no want to socialize. They always asked me to join in with them. Sometimes the prison gangs would shout at me through the bars. Said they wanted a killer like me to rough someone up or something. 

They never proved anything of course, or else I wouldn’t have ever gotten out onto the streets. That’s the other place that used those fluorescent lights, court rooms. I had stopped under a light that was buzzing louder than the others. If I didn’t know any better I would’ve said there was a fly in here, but I knew there wasn’t. This place was a fortress against anything ‘dirty’ save for me. I spent three days just undergoing cleaning processes to make sure ‘nothing went wrong with the test’ but I think they just weren’t used to the smell. They got me in one of those hospital gowns too. All that’s missing is the cast around my leg. I could’ve fucking killed him, I swear to god. Ruined everything. I didn’t do bad don’t get me wrong, but I could’ve been fucking famous. I think I got back at him in the end. I remember it like it was yesterday. The sheer irony of it.

I was still riding high from my windfall promotion when his smirking face came across my desk. I didn’t even know he used Redshield insurance, how could I? But there he was, twenty something years older with a kid in the hospital. It was a big request, full facial reconstruction was pricey, especially for an accident at a campfire. No one else to hold liable but themselves. No one else’s insurance on the hook, just Grant’s. I denied the request, his insurance simply didn’t cover accidents of this degree. Sorry.

“Mr. Zhou, it is imperative that you make your way to me. Please try not to get distracted. Focus on my voice and nothing else.”

I was startled by the booming sound. I must’ve been daydreaming or something. My head felt like it was full of lead, bursting at the seams. I need a damn nap. Needed to get out of this building and away from all of this. I knew the recovery process wasn’t gonna be easy, but this was something else. Accidents happen, but of course with my luck it couldn’t be something easy. No sprained ankle for me, had to be a brain hemorrhage. I didn’t recognize the doctor’s voice from my previous days here. Couldn’t be sure if they were there when the first electrodes were put across my body or maybe later when they put me under. I tried to do what he said. He had that doctor voice, the one that makes you want to do anything but what they tell you, but you know you gotta do it.

The next steps were a little easier, I didn’t have to grab the wall this time. My leg felt like cooperating for once. I almost tried to reply back to the doctor, make him think I was doing well, but my mouth felt like it was full of cotton. Maybe that was it. The painkillers just hadn’t worn off yet surely. I’ve been on painkillers before, the lightness in your limbs, the wandering mind, cotton in the mouth, it all makes sense. Can’t say they’ve ever made me dream of being a football player though. Sports hate me almost as much as I hate them. Last time I played sports I got my damn leg broken. Go figure.

I started to come into a slow but steady stride and took a glance behind me to see my progress so far through the hall. There was just darkness behind me. It was like they had turned off the lights everytime I passed one. Suddenly, I felt a sense of vertigo. It was as if the floor began to tip back, threatening to dump me into the mouth of the void. I felt a scream try to rip out of my throat but it came out as a gurgle, my tongue not moving out of the way. I dropped to my knees and tried to cling to the tile. A shape came out of the darkness behind me. A door. Wait.

The wall was black. The wall and door behind me was black rather than white. There was no yawning void, no endless pit. I began to shake as embarrassment filled me. I had taken less than a dozen steps since entering the hallway. What would pops think of me? For his part, the doctor made no sign he even noticed my breakdown. White on white on brown. He still sipped in perfect intervals. What happened to my rhythm?

I used to be pretty good at rapping, more of a party trick than a talent. You pick it up when you hang around certain crowds in middle school. The kids at school had all sorts of racist rapper names they gave me, I tried not to pay it any mind. It was in middle school that I first met Grant. In time he would become my best friend and rival. I don’t remember him ever joining me and the guys when we went out hitting cars. He always had good grades though, wasn’t the type to get his nose dirty. When did we hang out again? He helped me with some homework sometimes, I remember that. We tried out together, both made the team. He was always jealous of my arm, and of Samantha. He was always trying to fuck her. Probably did after he put me in the hospital. She dropped me the second my leg broke so I guess I wasn’t too beat up about it. She was my third, no, second girlfriend. The best in bed by far though. Grant always was chasing second.

I blinked my eyes a few times, could never quite get used to how bright these damn lights were. I felt sad, but I didn’t know why. There was still that itching anxiety in the back of my head, it had started making my stomach turn. Something was wrong, I was sure of it. This wasn’t no shitty painkillers. Did something happen during the operation? I could ask the doctor if I could just get to him. Right. The hallway. It seemed shorter than before. Though it’s not like I ever counted the tiles. Maybe I was making progress? I didn’t really feel like looking behind me to check.

Maybe it was this place, it was making me crazy. I don’t really remember how long I’ve been here. There was a lot of paperwork and a lot of waiting before I was finally seen. They wouldn’t let me have my phone the entire time so I tried to read some old magazines but they were all from niche tech subscriptions. They told me they needed to make sure I wouldn’t take any pictures or film anything, said it was all too experimental at the time and couldn’t risk it. I could feel the pressure from the gurney straps digging into me as I waited. I couldn’t remember most of the wait, just lots of yelling and paperwork. I heard so much medical jargon being thrown around but I could understand ‘severe brain damage.’ A man in a black suit came in one day and said they could fix me, said I was clean, no charge. I must’ve been too out of it to ask what the catch was.

That’s another thing I was sick of, black suits. Had to wear one for 38 years of my life, five days a week. Not even my promotion let me get away from that. One place I could escape from it was the company gym, that was my escape from everything. It was there that I met the guy. He tapped me on the shoulder prompting me to drop the dumbbell and take out my wireless earbuds. Before he even spoke I could tell he was a salesman, they all looked the same. Short black hair, cheap suit, knockoff watch. I’d been there once too, probably could’ve guessed where he bought the outfit. How he got in the company gym though, that’s what interested me enough to take his card. Neurohealth it said. It rang a bell. A new big client or something like that? I made a note to look it up later. Wasn’t until I cleared out my desk some ten years after that I bothered to do so.

“Tanner? Can you hear me in there? You can do it. Just keep going, keep pushing, you are almost there.”

My head briefly spun at the voice. Where was I again? Why was I still in this hallway? My limbs felt weird, like I’d never used them before. I felt weak, sluggish, underfed. No wonder it hurt to move. It seemed like a simple task when said out loud. Walk forward, just walk forward. My anxiety spiked again and I wiped tears from my face. Why was I crying? I felt cornered, but the only ones here were me and the doctor. My heart pounded in my chest, urging me to run, but to where? Where was home? I have no safe place, nowhere to go. Never was given the opportunity to build one. My memory was never a safe place for me, but now I’m not so sure. I’m not very sure about a lot of things. I felt lost in this hallway. The only way to go was forward, but I didn’t want to go. What was happening to me?

They said they would fix me, save my life. I was dying. Why was I dying? They told me I could live a whole new life. I’ve lived a new life before. Blood on my hands, a boot on my neck. Concrete and sirens. Why was I there? That door, I could remember that door. Old beaten up wood with a golden 6. I went back there and it was still there. It was poetic, slipping off those steps I’d walked so many times. Same concrete, different sirens, new life.

That wasn’t right. What was this door? I scraped at my memory, but doing so only made me sadder. There was nothing there, nothing anywhere. Nowhere to go but forward. The hallway. I was almost there, but I don’t remember walking. I felt sick. Wrong. My head was squirming, panicking, empty. What was my name? I hadn’t thought of it before. Who didn’t know their own name? Where was I? Neurohealth, that was a name. Not mine, but important. They made me wait in those polyester chairs for so long I wanted to scream. Or was I screaming. Trapped on a gurney, surrounded by dull eyes above blue masks. They brought me into a large room filled with machinery surrounding a cushy leather chair. I wasn’t so sure about this anymore I told them, but they said the payment had already gone through so I went ahead with it. I sat down in that chair and let them hook me up. Needles entered my arm, electrodes dotted my skull, a huge metal dome lowered over my head. My graying hair was shaved off where need be to make room for more sensors. My body started to numb as they filled me with experimental drugs to ‘assist in the transfer’ and showed me the little metal disc that would become me until such a time came when I could be someone else. I smelled grass clippings.

What did they do to me?

“I’m glad to see you back on your feet Mr. Johnson,” the doctor said as I reached the end of the hallway.