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At least 16GB of main DRAM.
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[size=24][color=#aaa]Preface[/color][/size]
The following story narrates the life of a character who has lived in my imagination for years. Her exact origins have always been abstract in my mind, but I've recently had the inspiration to define who she is and how she came to be.
Note that at the time of this writing, her story is not yet complete. There's a definite reason for why this is, and I'll leave it to you, the reader, to discover that reason.
[size=24][color=#aaa]Chapter 1[/color][/size]
I was born as Valerie Linden, a brown-eyed brunette little girl---a spitting image of my mother, Laura, when she was young. My father, Adam, always wore a beard and a smile. I am their only child.
My father in particular was an adventurous man. He was a geneticist and a biochemist. He lived in fascination of every element of nature.
I clearly remember he and I hiking together when I was still very young. If there was anything he loved more than nature, it was sharing its wonder with those around him.
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"What do you see there?" he asked.
"It's a purple flower," I said, crouching to get a good look at it.
"Yep. That's definitely a purple flower. What about the flower next to it?"
I turned to look. "It's a white flower."
"You got it. Now why do you think that is? Why is one flower purple and the other white?"
"Well, because...because...I don't know."
"Well, I'll tell you why. It's because they have different genes," he said.
"What's 'jeems?'" I asked.
"No, 'genes,'" he said. "Genes are something that every plant, animal, and person has. They're what make things different from each other. It's why you have brown eyes and some people have blue eyes. But sometimes genes can cause weird things, and we don't always know why."
"Oh, ok," I said.
He smiled and laughed. "Boring, I know. How about we head back to the car and go get something to eat. I'll race you."
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Little did he know that I would follow closely in his footsteps. In time, his footsteps would be all I had to follow him by.
[size=24][color=#aaa]Chapter 2[/color][/size]
Years later, I faced a day I will never forget. Both of my parents sat at the kitchen table. They beckoned me to sit. The house was silent.
I sat, and the silence continued. They looked at each other, then back at me. My father began to speak.
"As you might have guessed already, there's something we need to talk about," he said.
"What? What did I do? Was it something I did?" I asked.
He chuckled. "No, no, it's nothing like that. It's about me. It's about something I need to do."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"This has actually been a long time coming," he said, "but I didn't want to say anything too soon in case the situation changed. The fact is, I can't say what it is, but it's work-related. The reason we called you down here is because I need to leave for a little while."
"Leave? Why? For how long?"
"I can't say. I know that doesn't help, and I hate it more than anything, but I just can't say."
"Okay, but, I mean, can you say about how long? Maybe a year or two? A few years? What?"
"Probably years," he said. "Probably a long time." His eyes drifted down. I could see the distance in his eyes and the somber look on his face. There was nothing I could do to hold back tears.
He walked around the table and squeezed me in his arms. "Listen to me, Valerie. You'll always be my little flower. You're a smart girl with a bright future. I want you to stay in school and do well for yourself. You're strong enough to do it. You hear me?"
I nodded.
"Your mother will look after you, and I've left you both with more than enough money to survive. I promise it'll be enough for anything you'll need. It's the best I can do right now." I hugged him tighter. The pain was unbearable. His embrace was worth far more to me than his fortune.
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Little else was said before my father left. Most of his belongings were already packed. We shared our final farewells, then he disappeared. That was it.
[size=24][color=#aaa]Chapter 3[/color][/size]
I kept my promise to stay in school and make a life for myself. I took a strong interest in phytochemistry and became a pharmacologist. In hindsight, it's no surprise that the natural sciences appealed the most to me; like father like daughter.
I entered the workforce quickly. My extensive knowledge of human and botanical chemistry earned me a job developing pharmaceuticals. I soon found myself on the cutting edge of medicine.
I spent years focused on my career before I got the dreaded phone call: my mother was dying.
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I immediately rushed to the hospital and made my way to her room in ICU. She lay awake as I entered her room, and she smiled as best she could.
"Valerie," she said. "How's my little girl?"
"Better before I heard the news," I said. "What happened, mom?"
"Oh, you know, old age," she said.
"Old age doesn't put you in the hospital. What did the doctor say?" I asked.
She broke eye contact. "You won't like to hear this. He said I had a blockage in my lung---and the blockage is cancerous."
"What kind of cancer? Can they treat it?" I asked.
"They said it's breast cancer. It might be treatable, but the doctor doubts if it would do any good at this point. It's advanced, and it's moving."
"But they know it's there. If they can find it, they can treat it. You'll be alright. Did you ask the doctor about surgery or chemo or radiation?"
She paused. "No. I told them I wouldn't do it. My chances aren't good, and it's not something I need at this point in my life."
"Mom, don't you know what that means? Don't you know what will happen if you don't let them treat it?"
"I do. That's why I need you now."
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I held my head in my hands. This couldn't be happening. One parent lost, the other dying. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. But it wasn't the right time for grief. My mother needed me then.
"I wish Adam could be here," she said.
"Me too," I said. "He's been gone for so long. I've just accepted that he's never coming back."
"I can't blame you," she said, "but he always cared about you. Listen. There's something I need to tell you. Something you weren't meant to know, but it's something I think you need to know."
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"Go home. Go upstairs and into the attic. There's an old, white photo album in the far corner. It has the best answer I can give."
"But what is it? What's in the album?"
"You need to find out for yourself, Valerie. You'll probably understand it better than I do. Just promise me one thing...that you won't hate me or your father for it."
"Mom, I could never hate you. Why would you say that?"
"Just go. Open it and you'll know why."
So I did. I left the hospital. I drove home. I climbed to the attic. I opened the album.
Inside was a faded manila envelope containing a small stack of documents. Atop the stack was a letter in my mother's handwriting. It read:
My Dear Valerie,
This is my last gift to you. It is evidence of things that you were never meant to know. I didn't feel it was right to keep it from you forever. Not even your father knows about it.
Just know that we did what we thought was best for you. You will always be our dearest treasure.
Love,
Your Mother, Laura
Words of regret. I set the letter aside and began looking at the other papers. The first was a photocopy of some kind of medical release form bearing my name. The next was a segment of my medical history marked up with cryptic notes. The papers implied concern, but there weren't any details explaining why.
However, there was one page that stood out to me. It contained contact information for a Dr. Eric Voss. I had been told that he was an old family friend who my father worked closely with, but I never knew the man. I naturally assumed that he was involved.
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I had only a brief conversation with my mother about all of this. She tried to describe special vaccines I had received, but her knowledge was limited. She insisted that my father could explain the truth, and she encouraged me to reach out to Dr. Voss.
There would be no more time to discuss it---her condition took a turn for the worst, and she passed away in the days following. I never felt so disconnected from the life that I once knew as I did then. My mother was gone forever, my father was nowhere to be found, and all I could cling to was an unexplained mystery about my past.
I had to unravel that mystery. It's all I had left.
[size=24][color=#aaa]Chapter 4[/color][/size]
Dr. Eric Voss. I wished then that I knew him. I assumed he would be an older man, if he was still alive. What would I say to him? Would he even know me?
I guess it didn't really matter. He was the only link I had to my past. I dialed his phone number without another thought. I figured the truth would be enough to break the ice.
A couple rings, then a click. "Hello?" said a man's voice. It was indeed Dr. Voss. A lengthy conversation followed in which I introduced myself, brought him up to speed on family matters, and mentioned about meeting over lunch. He was jovial, telling me about his wife, and willing to connect with me. I thought it best to save the heavy conversations until we met face-to-face. I only had one chance to make a good impression on the only person who I could approach about my past.
We agreed to meet in a small café near his office later that week.
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I walked through the glass door at the small but trendy café. I scanned the tables looking for a tall, slender man with silver hair and a matching goatee. Such a man soon approached me.
"Valerie?" he asked.
"Doctor?" I asked.
He laughed. "Only on the job. I saved you a seat." He led me to his table where we continued the conversation over coffee. We spent a few minutes on small talk before I broached the burning subject.
"So, there's something I wanted to ask you about," I said. "It's about a project that you worked on with my father years ago, and this might sound weird, but it has something to do with me."
"I was afraid you might ask about that," he said. "The fact is, it's a sensitive subject."
"I'd understand if this wasn't the right place to discuss---"
"There isn't really a good time or place," he said. "I'm sorry, but it's not something I'm comfortable talking about. Adam should be the one to tell you."
"I'm sure of that," I said, "but he's gone. Lost. You're the only person I can trust to help me. I need to know what happened."
"I'm sorry, but I can't. I just can't," he said, leaning over to reach for his wallet.
"Please," I begged. "This means more to me than anything else in the world right now. I know you know that feeling. Think about your wife."
"What about my wife?" he asked with a troubled gaze. He loved his wife, and in our phone conversation, he confessed that her condition might only afford her a few more years to live.
"Lupus has no cure," I said, "but that's about to change. I can help her."
"How?" he asked.
"The details aren't exactly public, and I'd be risking a lot if I said any more. I want you to trust me. I can help her, but I need you to help me."
"I...I don't know."
"Please, Eric. Just between you and me. I'm not out for vengeance. I'm not out for blood. I just want the truth."
His eyes turned away as his mind sifted through the possibilities. I divulged more information and said all I could to promise his safety and secrecy. After some deliberation, he accepted the trade. We were to meet again in a week to fulfill our unwritten contract.
I lost sleep that night. Never did I think I'd find myself offering to save someone's life conditionally. Was I in search of justice, or had this become my own personal crusade? Would the means justify the end? All I knew for sure is that there was no turning back.
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At the lab the next day, I tracked down all the information I could on Bifidurol Supercomplex-D. The papers listed a number of of previously untested compounds and made plenty of lofty promises. The side effects were numerous. I hoped that Eric wouldn't reconsider.
I grabbed copies of the trial submission forms and tucked them away to be filled out later.
[size=24][color=#aaa]Chapter 5[/color][/size]
The fateful day soon arrived. I drove to his office where we agreed to meet. I parked my car, and with papers in hand, I entered the waiting room of his private practice. I waited for only a second before he appeared. If only every doctor were so prompt with their appointments.
He beckoned me into his office where the exchange would commence.
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We didn't waste any time. I presented the forms that he needed to complete along with information about the drug. Without hesitation, he reached behind himself for an overstuffed folder. He handed it to me and began filling out the forms.
I walked over to a small table where I had more space to myself. A stack of papers slid from the folder as I dropped it onto the tabletop. I sat down and began scanning every paper. Astonishment does not begin to describe what I felt as I looked inside.
Reports, emails, memos, and more. The folder contained an entire paper trail detailing years of secret studies. The files told of everything from medications, to dosages, to expected results, and risks. It was evidence of years of experimentation.
I quickly learned the forbidden truth that my mother wanted me to learn: I was the subject of these experiments.
I poured over every report to learn what had been put into my body. Names of drugs were listed that didn't exist in modern medicine. What I was given seems to have been something concocted by a private company who specialized in a form of eugenics.
The intended effects were expected to be subtle. Benign changes to my immune system, altered production rates of certain enzymes, and other slight modifications to my body's self-regulation. As I understood it, the goal was to prevent various genetic defects and diseases, and to allow those modified genes to be passed down to my children.
I continued digging. It wasn't long before a familiar name caught my attention: Dr. Adam Linden. Many communications revealed that his colleagues had a hand in controlling the experiment. It became clear that my father was not only complicit in the experiment, but that he ordered it.
My own father did this to me. I couldn't believe it. Yet my understanding was still imperfect. I began to rummage through the papers more hastily, looking for anything that might still be connected to him. He owed me a lot of answers and an emotional debt that could never be repaid. I had to find him again.
I clung to every scrap of paper bearing a name, phone number, or address. I vowed to follow those leads to the ends of the Earth if I had to.
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I walked back to Eric's desk with the files.
"I hope that was enough to clear things up," he said.
"Almost," I replied, "but per our agreement, I won't ask any questions."
"I appreciate it," he said. "And...I'm sorry."
I said nothing as I handed the files back to him. The other half of the bargain was that he would destroy the files after my perusal. He allowed me to transcribe some information and made no objections to my notes.
"Here you are," he said, handing the completed forms back to me. "I have a lot of hope for this trial. Thank you, Valerie."
"My pleasure. I'll submit these forms first thing in the morning."
I left his office with the best information I could ask for to track my father down. Nothing could stop me now.
[size=24][color=#aaa]Chapter 6[/color][/size]
The next day, I returned to the lab and submitted the forms for the clinical trial. It was a long day on the job. My mental focus was lost amongst myriad thoughts of how the moment would unfold when I finally saw my father again. The smiles, the tears, the endless hug...the scene repeated itself over and over again.
Mind adrift, I stood gazing into the lab's mostly empty parking lot through the window. The street lamps' glow stood out against the dusk. I had done enough for one day, so I wrapped up my work for the night then left the lab.
A warm breeze pushed my hair across my face as I stepped outside. There was barely enough light for me to sift through my purse in search of my keys. I walked slowly as I combed through the mess. Wouldn't you know it, the one thing you need the most always finds its way to the bottom of the pit.
I fumbled with the keys and dropped them as I approached my driver side door. It was a simple, clumsy mistake that saved my life.
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A shadow, violent, sudden, agonizing pain, adrenaline surge. I screamed. I staggered. I tried to focus.
He was a short man, knife in hand, menacing, but unsure. I turned and ran. He followed.
I ran for the trees. The distance between us increased. I never stopped moving until my legs could no longer carry me.
Now deep in the tangle, I nearly collapsed as I reached the absolute limit of my physical endurance. I slumped to the ground with my back against a tree and finally looked down at myself. Though it was dark, I could make out the crimson sheen of blood that covered my left arm. The gash in my forearm was especially severe.
Blood surged from the wound as my heart pounded. Lost in the swamp, I could only rely on first aid to survive. I removed my shirt to use as a makeshift bandage while my emotions entered a vicious cycle of fear and desperation. At that point, I had no option but to apply pressure to the wound and try hopelessly to remain calm.
I pressed the shirt against my arm. The dry cloth stung as it touched my exposed flesh. As I sat against the tree, the blood continued to flow, and I couldn't stop my mind from drifting into darkness...
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This was the end. I lost all perception. Only my spirit remained amongst shadows and whispers.
What did the great beyond look like? I forced open my eyes and saw a dank mire overgrown with moss and trees. I recognized much of the flora that populated the area. I also recognized the familiar texture of the tree bark against my back, the heavy smell of the air, and the wet soil beneath me. This was reality.
The moon shone bright. I looked down at myself again. My shirt had absorbed copious amounts of blood as it clung to my arm. The stains from the bleeding had long been dry. The damp air settled on my skin as a slick film. A dull ache swam through my body as I tried to move.
The shirt must have been able to stop the hemorrhaging. I peeled the stained cloth away from my arm, hoping that it had not become attached to the wound. As I lifted it away, I saw that much of it had dissolved into a layer of powdery decay. Beneath this was a gnarly patch of fungus that covered my arm where my grievous wound had been. I touched the growth with trepidation.
My heart began to race again. I pulled at the fungus which tore away as its fibers snapped at the surface of my skin. Beneath this covering was a wiry tuft of lichen that grew from within my arm. I touched this lichen and experienced a sensation like the stimulation of hairs.
I became sick with fear as I suspected this bizarre mutation would kill me with toxins and decay, yielding a much more agonizing death than I would have faced had I bled to death during my lapse into oblivion. My fear quickly manifested as despair as I began to weep. Many minutes passed before I sat emotionally exhausted, only able to contemplate my fate alone in the swamp.
I studied the lichen in my arm as I sat. I brushed it again, trying to understand and justify the unnatural growth. The sensation was soothing. I continued to brush it while lost in thought, comforted by mere touch.
Yet as I stroked the filaments, they began to flake away, and the roots that grew from within my arm began to fade. The entire rash soon disappeared. Where the lichen had grown was new skin, formed miraculously from its inexplicable nature.
I now sat awestruck. My skin had been repaired as quickly as the fungus had grown within it. The benevolent infection accelerated my body's recovery and sealed the wound at a supernatural rate. All of my pain faded in the following moments as I tried to accept the surreal event.
[size=24][color=#aaa]Chapter 7[/color][/size]
Be it by God, by chance, or by cosmic alignment, I was alive. If I hadn't stopped and turned when I dropped my keys, I would have met a grisly end in that parking lot. I don't believe my assailant was an assassin by profession, and he certainly wasn't an athlete.
But could a fungal infection really be considered a blessing? It kept me alive, but at what cost? What had I become? Would the fungus still kill me?
In any case, things were suddenly very different for me---circumstantially and physically. I was lost when I entered the forest, but I now felt some sense about where I was. Not exactly, but everything seemed familiar. It felt like I had walked a path with no roads in sight. The silence of nature sounded a little different. The air had a subtle scent of life.
And indeed, my flesh had become a substrate for the fungi of the marsh, and my blood a catalyst for its growth.
Despite all of this, I didn't want to waste any more time. I had been so close to finding my father. I wanted to push all of this out of my mind so I could get back to civilization and finish what I started.
But it wasn't so simple. I needed to confront Eric, the one man who was most suspicious in all of this. I began to retrace my steps on foot.
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I must have walked for miles before I got back to familiar landscapes. The faint glow of sunlight now filled the sky. Well past the edge of the trees, I found myself wandering back into town.
I didn't want to be seen, but being covered in dirt and wearing a tattered camisole was not exactly subtle. With no keys, no phone, and no money, I set my course for the only place I could go. Fortunately, it was exactly the place I needed to be.
My arrival was swift. I walked around the side of Eric's office and banged on the window. I pounded on the glass for a good minute until the blinds finally began to rustle. A bewildered Eric soon appeared. He motioned for me to go around to the back of the building. He let me in through the rear entrance and snuck me into his office.
"Valerie, what are you doing here? What happened to you?" he asked.
"You tell me," I said. "I left work last night and got stabbed in the parking lot. Is that how you meant to seal the deal?"
"I don't know anything about that," he said.
"No? You're the last person I talked to, Eric. Who else should I suspect?" I asked as I inched closer to him.
"Valerie, it wasn't me, I swear it. I can prove it."
"Prove it?"
"Well, I can't prove it, but you can trust me," he said. "The files. I still have the files. They're at home next to the shredder."
I paused. Was he telling the truth? If so, why?
"I...I just couldn't do it," he continued. "I wanted to. I really did. But I was drawn to those files. I looked at every one of them again, and with every page I turned, I felt it---shame, guilt, and rage at the things I've seen."
"Why? Why the change of heart? What is my past worth to you?" I asked.
"It's not just your past," he said. "It's my past. It's your father's past. It's the past of countless others who faced treatments worse than yours." His angry countenance grew more twisted. "I've seen things, such horrible things that I've turned a blind eye to my whole life. I wanted to hide it. I wanted to forget it. I wanted to act like it never happened. But...no...it's all too real."
"So now what?" I asked.
He looked me in the eye. "Now I lead you to the truth. I'm ready to help you in every way I can. Will you trust me? Will you help me?"
I saw the same fire in his eyes that I had seen in the mirror. We shared a fury that threatened to turn the world inside out to uncover the truth. I was no longer alone, and my cause suddenly had a greater purpose.
I smiled at him. "Lead the way, doctor."
[size=24][color=#aaa]Chapter 8[/color][/size]
"First thing before we go, are you hurt?" asked Eric.
"No, I'm fine. I stopped the bleeding."
"At least let me look at it and clean it up."
"I can't. I mean, it's not that I wouldn't, but there's nothing left of it. No scars. Nothing."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
How could I even begin to explain? I walked over to his desk where I spotted a pair of scissors in his stationary cup. I turned to him, opened the blades, then sliced myself open near where my wound had healed hours ago.
"Valerie! What's wrong with you? Give me those!" he shouted.
"Watch," I said. "Watch it. I don't know how long it might take, but keep watching." So he watched, and within a minute, the trickling blood stopped and turned to dust. The spores crumbled away and left no trace of the cut. He looked up at me and stared in awe.
"I can't explain it," I said. "When I got stabbed, I ran, and I got lost in a swamp. Something happened to me then. I don't know what and I don't know why, but it saved my life."
"Valerie, you need to---"
"Don't...just...it's okay. I'll figure it out, but not before we do what we have to do."
He began to speak as if to object, but he stopped short and only nodded. "Alright. Let's get started."
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He called his secratery to cancel his pending appointments before he walked to his car. I waited at the back entrance as he drove around to pick me up. I climbed into the passenger seat, then we sped away.
"The house will be empty," he said. "My wife will be at work until late this afternoon."
"I'm glad to hear she can still get around," I replied.
"For now," he said. "She probably won't be able to for much longer---without a cure, that is."
"Yes, well...I'm sorry," I said. "I'm sorry I put you in the position I did when we met."
"It's alright. All that matters is that she gets the drug, and thanks to you, she's got a better chance than I could've ever hoped for."
It wasn't long before we arrived at his not-so-humble home in the countryside. There were no cars and no people around. I felt relieved for having come so far without attracting undue attention.
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Eric made fresh coffee while I cleaned myself up. After an invigorating shower, I changed into clean clothes and joined him at the dining room table where my lonely mug of coffee waited. The files were spread out across the table.
I recognized many of the files as those I had copied from. I reached for one such file and moved it to my side of the table. I moved another, and another. I had soon rebuilt the list of people and places I had compiled two days prior.
"I remember this name too well," said Eric, looking down at the paper in his hands. "Dr. Rupert Schreiner. Young. Ambitious. Adam's heart was always in the right place, but Schreiner...well, not so much."
He handed me the paper which I added to my collection. "Did he know my father?" I asked.
"He did," he said. "It's hard to say how close they are today, but his name is worth remembering."
I made note of the name. Would he be my next lead? Could I trust him? I couldn't help but feel skeptical about anyone connected to these secrets. Yet, it wasn't the people I was most curious about.
"What do you know about Titan City?" I asked.
"Titan City? It was my home for a while," he said, "and it's where I met Janet. Why do you ask?"
"Because that's where I'm headed," I answered. Too often was Titan City mentioned throughout the files to be mere coincidence. Nearly every doctor and drug was linked to it in one way or another. I felt as though a part of me had been born there. All of my hope and conviction awaited me in this so-called "City of Titans."
I finished my coffee and scooped up my stack of papers. My sights were set. All there was left to do was to wrap up a few loose ends. I asked Eric for one last four-wheeled favor.
[size=24][color=#aaa]Chapter 9[/color][/size]
"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Eric asked as he shifted his car into park outside the local police station.
"I'll be fine. Besides, this isn't farewell. I still have your number."
He smiled. "'Not farewell' indeed. Good luck, Valerie."
Having climbed out of the car, I closed the door and stood watching as he drove away. I then turned and proceeded to the police station where I hoped to regain access to my life, even if only to leave it all behind.
The investigation of my disappearance had begun not long before I arrived. None of my belongings were left at the scene. The evidence suggested that I was the victim of a random assault; a simple mugging. I didn't dispute their conclusion depsite knowing that my attacker wanted me dead. The only man I had any intention of tracking down was my father, and that was something I would need to do on my own terms.
Weeks passed before my journey could begin. During this time, I gave my two-weeks notice, made the necessary arrangements to relocate, and said goodbye to my childhood home. I also spent many mundane hours replacing the personal effects of my everyday life.
But at long last, I finished my preparations. With my things packed, my old life disappeared in the rear-view mirror as I started down the road to a new future.
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Skyscrapers sprouted from the horizon as I approached the metropolis. It was this gleaming city that held the answers I hoped to find. My arrival almost seemed ominous.
Deep in the city, slow traffic and frequent stop lights afforded me the opportunity to look around. I spotted an extraordinary variety of shops and service centers. People of every color, dress, and disposition walked the streets. Titan City certainly seemed to be as diverse and fantastic as its reputation suggested.
My voyage ended at an upscale apartment complex where I had arranged to stay. The moving truck arrived minutes later, and a couple hours after its arrival, I had settled into my new home. I sat alone, mind abuzz with thoughts of the coming days. I had a new friend, a new home, a new hope, and a mission for which I would stop at nothing.
Still, I wanted to take some time to explore the city and become familiar with the local area. My financial situation would sustain me for long enough to ease into my new life without burden. I promised to start my adventure after a good night's sleep.
However, that sleep was elusive. I knew that I would find my father somewhere out there amongst the Titans. I believed it to be true. Fate led me here for a reason. Faith would carry me forward. Every tomorrow would bring us closer.
I closed my eyes, and in the solace of night, I dreamt of a beautiful reunion.