Episode XVIII

Five Weeks Ago:

When the lights in the hallway began to dim Damien Valiant realized that the night shift was beginning in Elfaeran Base and according to the lab rules he would have to notify security that he would be staying late. Frustrated by the seemingly senseless requirement that Dr. pHinneas Dinglethorpe had instituted in Research Lab #XY1492, Damien had been looking for ways to avoid trudging through nearly a half-mile of corridors just to report to the nearest security station.

As he was only an assistant Damien didn’t rate access to the base lifts that ran horizontally on each floor. This was only one of the many things that annoyed him about the military and Dr. pHinn’s crazy rules. However he knew that pHinneas was an acknowledged leader in the field of genetic engineering -- perhaps the leader -- and was a great man personally in spite of his managerial shortcomings. Valiant had no intention of jeopardizing his career by abandoning Dinglethorpe to strike out on his own.

Crossing his fingers Damien pulled a memory stick out of his pocket and plugged it into a USB slot on Dr. pHinn’s desktop. He copied the sole file to the computer’s desktop and double clicked the program’s icon. After a few moments he breathed a sigh of relief as the familiar sight of his friend Hegel Jeremiah’s code-breaking program popped up. In only a matter of moments Damien had hacked into Dr. pHinn’s e-mail to send the main security office a missive informing them that Damien would be staying late and need not actually report to the security office. Overall it would be a rather complicated procedure to construct the e-mail properly and then erase traces of his deed, but Damien rather preferred all the elaborate subterfuge to actually walking the long distance to the security office and reporting in to the officer on duty.

Watching the program do its work a satisfied smile crept across Damien’s face then rapidly disappeared as his face abruptly screwed up in a sneeze. Frantically searching through the mess on the surrounding lab tables he finally found a damp rag and cleaned off the computer screen then brought it to his face to contain another sneeze. Unfortunately the rag released enough particulate matter that as Damien held it to his face he sneezed three more times in rapid succession. As he realized what had happened the lab assistant threw the rag back down and stifled his last sneeze on his shirt sleeve.

While Damien worked through the night the viruses that had lain dormant in the rag worked their way through the walls of his nasal cavity into his bloodstream where they quickly infected cells and duplicated, beginning their spread throughout his entire body.

Four Weeks Ago:

Though thoroughly infested by the viruses that had invaded his body during a sneezing fit Damien Valiant remained blissfully ignorant of their continued presence within his body, going about his normal routine helping Dr. pHinneas Dinglethorpe.

“Damien, would you run down to the commissary after lunch?”

“Sure Dr. pHinn, what do you want me to pick up?”

“Well I could use some more cans of Mountain Dew, I’m running a bit low. Hmmm—some saltine crackers wouldn’t be amiss as well as some of that chocolate cereal they advertise on television with that bird, what is his name…” Distractedly the doctor trailed off. Knowing that he had likely drifted deep into concentration Damien decided to head to the local cafeteria for lunch when the doctor suddenly raised his voice. “And batteries, I need many batteries. Double A, and triple A.” When it was obvious that further instructions were not forthcoming Damien did leave the lab, loosely latching the door behind him so that Dr. pHinn wouldn’t be disturbed.

Reasonably sure that he wouldn’t get caught, Damien swiped Dr. pHinn’s access card and used the executive elevator system to make his way to the cafeteria. Unfortunately they had run out of tuna and anchovy sandwiches mere minutes before he arrived so he had to settle for spaghetti and garlic bread. After polishing off a second serving of spaghetti Damien dropped by the commissary to purchase Dr. pHinn’s supplies and headed back to the laboratory.

“I have your things Dr. pHinn,” the young man called out as he entered the lab. “What did you need the batteries for anyway?”

“Oh, those were of critical importance,” the scientist exclaimed. “My mp3 player and Game Boy are fresh out of juice.”

As the assistant took the cans of Mountain Dew over to the lab refrigerator he threw a query over his shoulder at his boss. “Why do they call this Elfaeran Base? That doesn’t sound like a real name, I mean it sounds like something from Lord of the Rings or Star Wars.”

“You’re not far off,” the doctor laughed. “This land above was originally called Elf-haven Ranch when the government purchased it. The purchasing agent had just read The Lord of the Rings when he arranged for the government to buy the property. Knowing that the generals in charge of the project would likely insist on a numerical designation, like Area 51, he concocted the name Elfaeran and persuaded the lead architect to imprint it on all of his blueprints.”

With a laugh Damien picked up pHinn’s devices and after throwing away the old batteries broke open the new packs and started installing them. The moment he tried to start the Game Boy Damien’s hand cramped and clutched the device tightly, threatening to break it. When the doctor tried to grab his hand Damien weakly shook his head and backed away, then suddenly exclaimed as blue streaks of electricity sparked between his hand and the device he was clutching. Crying out in agony Damien fell to the floor where his hand hit the ceramic and fell open, tumbling the melted case of the Game Boy under a nearby cabinet. In a panic, not able to remember any emergency medical training which could aid Damien Dr. pHinn picked up his desk phone and called the nearest med station.

Two Weeks Ago:

“You still do not know what is wrong do you?” Dr. pHinn asked.

“Unfortunately no,” Dr. Framen replied sadly. “He continues to lose weight and I’m even more worried by his continual loss of bone mass. It isn’t cancer and I haven’t found any viruses that I recognize. Basically his condition continues to defy every bit of medical science that I can bring to bear. I’ve even had the doctors from Q Lab come in to look at them and their, ehm, ‘special’ devices haven’t made any sense of what is happening.”

She sighed and ran her hands through her long hair. “I can’t do anything more than sit here and watch him wither away. I feel so helpless. I haven’t had a patient this bad off since that British chap they brought in, you know, the one who disappeared?”

Ten Days Ago

“Why the urgent call Nurse Kellye? Has he…” Dr. Framen’s voice abruptly trailed off. The patient she had just been about to ask after was sitting up in his bed eating from a bowl of ramen noodles while watching an old M*A*S*H rerun on the base television network.

“Who, who authorized solid food?” She at last managed to ask.

Nurse Kellye was puzzled. “Why you did Doctor Framen. Last night you wrote on his chart to give him whatever he wanted if he woke up.”

“Oh, I did didn’t I?” the doctor rhetorically queried, still puzzled until she finally remembered exactly what she had been thinking. “Yes, I was thinking he would be too far gone if he did wake up, so he might as well have a last meal of whatever he wanted if by some miracle he did wake up before the end. But, but—ramen?”

“Don’t ask me Doctor,” the nurse replied defensively. “It is what he asked for. Though if you do ask me,” and she leaned closer to the doctor and began to whisper. “He is a bit strange. He doesn’t seem to know where he is, and I don’t just mean the medical facility, I don’t think he remembers the entire base. Do you know what could cause that?”

“Kellye, at this point nothing is a surprise. Frankly we’re dealing with something completely unknown and so really nothing would surprise me now. Go ahead and let him eat what he wants, and get rid of the IV. I’m too busy right now, but I’ll send a psychologist by later to question him.”

Nine Days Ago:

“Damien, my boy, talk to us.” Dr. pHinn attempted to encourage his assistant to open up, however the young man simply turned his back to the two men and refused to speak. “I’m sorry Dr. Freedman; Damien usually isn’t like this at all. He really is a quite likable young man; I’ve never heard him reluctant to speak before. I’m sure it isn’t serious.”

“But you say that he also hasn’t appeared to remember you pHinn?” the psychologist gently asked.

“Well no,” the scientist squirmed on his seat. “Actually he isn’t at all like himself.”

“There isn’t anything more I can do then,” Freedman stated, moving towards the door with Dr. pHinn. “Nurse Kellye, please continue to keep an eye on him and let me know if anything changes. I think we’ll leave him here for another week, and if he hasn’t recovered by then we’ll have to transfer him to some sort of mental institution or begin retraining him for life elsewhere.” He shrugged, “What I wouldn’t give for a Vulcan right now.”

Three Days Ago:

It was the middle of the night, not that things like that mattered much in the bowels of Elfaeran Base, but little of the base was fully staffed twenty four hours a day. In the medical station where Damien Valiant lay only Nurse Kellye was on duty and she had snuck out shortly after two for a rendezvous with her boyfriend, Alan Pierce, a security guard in the next sector. About five minutes later a small electrical surge shorted out several of the wireless devices monitoring Damien’s medical condition, and one of the remote sensors on his forehead discharged a static charge as it died.

Unexpectedly Damien rose from his bed and wandered out into the hallway. Frequently he reeled from the onset of a brief headache, but always he staggered forward. After nearly twenty minutes of wandering he stumbled through an exterior airlock and found himself on a balcony far above Mastodon Valley. As he stood gazing over the beautiful view Damien found himself remembering a phrase from the last book he had read. The author, an insane British man, had claimed that flying was easy. Confused Damien raised his hands to his temples in an attempt to quell yet another headache, but he couldn’t stop the remembered words from streaming through his mind. “The trick is to fall and miss the ground.” But how could you miss the ground Damien’s mind fuzzily demanded. This train of thought quickly derailed and he again started reading from the book in his memory. “This happens only when someone falls and becomes so preoccupied with something else.” Something else like what? Damien wondered, a thought that continued as he fell forward over the balcony. He continued remembering learning “that they forget that they are falling, and therefore are no longer doing it. Flying is just a permanent state of falling, minus the hitting the ground part.” With a start Damien’s mind violently shook off his lethargy as he realized he was falling down the cliff face, and then his heart nearly stopped when he found that he wasn’t falling, he was flying!

Two Days Ago:

“Are you sure you don’t remember anything?” Dr. Framen eagerly questioned Damien.

Knowing full well what the revelation of his newfound power would mean in a secret government lab Damien vigorously denied retaining any memories of what had happened the night before. He stuck to his story that he only remembered waking up on the balcony, remembering nothing of his stay in the hospital or how he got out of his hospital bed. After enduring another hour of questioning he was allowed to return to his apartment. In view of Damien’s long hospitalization Dr. pHinn had given his assistant a week off work and ordered him to remain at home.

There has to be something I can do with this power Damien thought. Perusing the paper he skipped over an article on the local disappearance of the northern flying squirrel and began reading an article about increasing gang violence. Perhaps he could battle these young hooligans. Wait, that was it, flying squirrels! He would call himself Rocky. No, he realized a moment later, that would never do. He needed something much less familiar, something like…The Flying Squirrel!

Today:

Regardless of what Dr. pHinn had ordered Damien was sick of being inside. He could handle being underground for days when he was working, but weeks of lying in a hospital bed had begun to sap his spirit. Tonight he would sneak up to the surface and see how this flying stuff could work out.