I had to wait until the following Wednesday before the hospital finally deigned to discharge me. They would have held onto me longer, but they needed the bed.
I had, apparently, made a full and “miraculous” recovery but the doctors just couldn’t quite bring themselves around to accepting this, and they insisted on keeping me in for observation and “tests”. I suspected medical papers were in the offing: The continuous EEG readouts were checked and rechecked; my blood pressure, pulse, reflex actions and mental faculties were likewise stress-tested: I was asked to count back, in sevens, from one hundred – I made a bit of a mess of that, but they seemed perfectly happy – and they also asked me to repeat the words: “Happy Hippopotamus” several times. Though I’m not sure why. After the first round of tests they wheeled me off for CAT, NMR and X-ray scans.
‘So, doctor, how does it look?’ I asked on the Sunday, a full twenty-four hours after my ‘return’.
‘It’s looking excellent, Geoff, we can’t find anything wrong with you at all. The small lesion in your brain has inexplicably gone; all your other vital signs are strong. You appear to be in perfect health.’
‘Great, I’d like to be discharged now.’
‘Oh, well, I think we should run some more tests. We still want to–’
‘You’ve run every conceivable test on me already!’
‘Yes, but we haven’t run the inconceivable ones yet.’
Funny guy! This excessive interest resulted in Hargreaves beating me to the exit door. He was discharged on Monday:
‘So long, young’un! Look after yourself!’
‘Cheers, Mike. You, too! ...Oh, and Mike?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Preparation!’
‘You what?’
‘It’s the secret to good public speaking!’
Hargreaves looked perplexed and seemed ready to quiz me on this but he was bundled out of the door by his impatient family. Two new patients promptly arrived in the ward. They weren’t as chatty as Hargreaves, both were in comas.
I passed the time by reading and watching TV. The one thing I felt reluctant to do was go online. I suspected the AI bot version of South might make itself known to me and frankly, at least for the foreseeable future, I really did not want to know; I felt inclined to dismiss the whole escapade as pure fantasy, but that proved to be problematical: I had managed to get the word out to Alex and Cube and they came to visit me on Monday night. Based on their excited accounts, it was hard to dismiss any of this as ‘fantasy’.
My parents arrived on the Wednesday with the intention of driving me back to the family home, but I still had unfinished business in Preston. This was the last week of term before the spring break and I still needed to confirm my work placement, I also had to pack and clear out my belongings from Adelphi Place. I persuaded my parents to drive me to the flat before they checked in at a nearby hotel. I would have my affairs in order by the weekend, I told them.
I sat alone in my cold, miserable, damp flat. It didn’t help that the place had been ransacked by Alex and Cube. The bedroom was a shambles, and in the kitchen area cupboard doors and drawers hung open, though that might have been my doing as I searched in vain for the painkillers, back on that fateful night. This place would need to be cleaned up if I expected to get my security deposit back.., but that job could wait. I checked to see if the landline phone was still working...
‘Hello, I’m calling about the status of my summer work placement. My name is Geoff Christie, second year Business Administration.’
‘Yeah, one moment please...’ The sound of rapid-fire typing... ‘Okay, Mr. Christie, umm.., yeah, according to this you’ve been granted a medical exemption. There is no requirement for you to take a placement.’
‘I see...’
‘Enjoy your summer, Geoff!’
The prospect of a five-month convalescence at my parents’ home did not appeal. ‘Wait! I have actually made a full recovery from my, err, illness, so I would appreciate getting some work experience, and it does always look good on the CV. Can I proceed with one?’
‘Entirely up to you. Let me just check to see what’s available...’ More nimble finger-work on the keyboard... ‘Three firms have declared an interest in interviewing you; I’d recommend that you arrange to see all three of them, asap. Do we have your email..? Yes we do. Okay, I’ll send all the details over to you now. Good luck!’
‘Right. Thanks.’
The line went dead.
I fished out my tablet and reluctantly went online. After a few random Google searches and a check of my Facebook page, I took a sigh of relief: all seemed normal. Let’s hope it stayed that way!
I checked my emails:
Wow! Lots. And lots of spam... Ah, there was the one from the university...
Okay, what have we got..? There was a haulage company based in a trading estate on the outskirts of Derby. Scintillating. What else..? A large department store in Sheffield. Christ! This was my future I was looking at! Let’s hope the third would be more interesting... Human Solutions International a “Think Tank & Consultancy”. That was more like it! I clicked on the link to their website...
“Human Solutions International, a division of SWISH, advises governments and multinationals on a wide range of–”
‘Bloody hell!’
I continued to peruse their webpages: HSI had been setup only two years ago and already they appeared to have the ear of every powerbroker you could imagine... Headquartered in New York but with offices opening all the time in other cities around the globe... The CEO, one Jack South, was currently based in the London branch, helping to develop it as HSI’s European HQ. That was where they wanted me to work. I had to contact someone called John Stone to arrange the interview.
Holy crap! Jack South! Now there were three Souths to contend with!
I did a search on ‘Jack South’: He was all over the place! Press and TV interviews, blogs, YouTube channels, public debates with prominent figures... on and on it went. He didn’t resemble Madam South very much, different gender for a start. I checked his bio: Early thirties, American, graduate of Utah State University, animal lover... there was a picture of Brock! He was Jack South’s faithful companion. “We have a special bond!” South was quoted as saying. The dog had only just been released from its designated stint in UK quarantine, which, apparently, it had handled remarkably well. Yes, you had a fine old time, didn’t you, Brock! You had a castle in the air into which you could escape...
...To what extent was this South ‘in the loop’? He must know about SWISH and what it is? Did he also know about his extended self? Maybe Madam South had worked a number on him with the computer before being bounced out by SWISH. Maybe he had always known the truth: he was the first to take diaketamine; the network had built up around him. Would he know me? How come HSI had requested an interview with me?
Agh! Too many questions!
I switched off my tablet.
So, which placement should I take? I felt as though I were being given a fundamental choice: walk away from all this, permanently – or head deeper down the rabbit hole. I noticed my neighbour, whatshername, returning to her flat. I’d worry about it later. Right now, I had a date in Blackpool to arrange.
–Ω–
A novella-length sequel to As Above, So Below is in development and will be published in 2018. You can follow the author on twitter @trlelawther for updates on this and other fascinating stuff.
about the author
Richard Lawther graduated from the University of Central Lancashire, in Preston, with a degree in Physics and Astronomy. This led to employment as a Meteorologist/Physicist with the British Antarctic Survey, work that included a two-year stint in Antarctica. After returning to the UK he became a Fingerprint Officer working at New Scotland Yard in London. Finding this work to be both monotonous and stressful he decided to return to meteorology. After acquiring a Met Office postgraduate qualification he found work in the Middle East as a Marine For
ecaster, providing forecasts for the oil industry on wind and sea states in the Arabian Gulf, forecasts that were occasionally correct.
More recently he has acquired a reputation as a talented computer games designer using the Tomb Raider Next Generation Level Editor. Out of the nearly three thousand games released on this platform and listed at trle.net he has designed four that are currently rated in the top ten. Readers who are curious about these are invited to find out more and can download any of them for free from: here.
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