By Tracy L. Snyder
“Don’t worry,” Ben whispered to himself. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”
He crept down the path beside his childhood home, breathing a heady, floral scent into his lungs. He stopped under an arbor covered with the red blooms of a climbing rose.
The backyard was packed. Dozens of relatives and friends gathered to celebrate his mother’s birthday. Her white hair shimmered in the sunlight as she walked around, greeting her guests. He waited until his heart rate slowed, then stepped out onto the sun-drenched bricks.
His mother spun in surprise. “What are you doing here?” Smoke billowed from the barbeque behind her, bringing the warring aromas of lighter fluid and sizzling fat. She ran towards him, spatula in hand, but stopped several feet away.
He hesitated, uncertain. “I’ve got the day off.” Ben closed the distance. “No tests, no experiments. This lab rat gets to leave the clinic for the day.”
His mother stared deep into his eyes. “How are you, sweetheart? Are the treatments working?”
Ben grinned. “Yeah. They’re working great. I’m not anxious at all.”
His father walked over, shoulders tense, gaze wary. An apron sagged from his neck and pulled tight around his middle. Two streaks of sauce slashed diagonally across his chest. “What exactly are they doing to you?”
“The doctors are rewiring my emotions.” Ben gave what he hoped was a soothing smile. “I’m fed a light-sensitive protein, then exposed to a happy event. The proteins coat the part of my brain associated with that memory. Then when I start feeling anxious, they trigger the good memory by activating neurostimulators they’ve implanted in my brain. And poof,” he waved his left hand. “The anxiety is gone.”
His mother’s eyebrows narrowed into a worried frown. “I don’t like them messing with your mind.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I heard the director of the clinic is being investigated for ethics violations. What if they make a mistake? What if something goes wrong?”
Warm contentment welled up inside of Ben. “Don’t worry. I’m the happiest I’ve been since I was a little kid.”
“Something had already gone wrong with his mind,” his father grumbled. “I think this treatment is great. I’ll think it’s even greater if he can get a job.”
A wave of shame swept over Ben, and his head sank under its familiar weight.
His mother distracted him by laying a hand on his right wrist. “What’s this?”
Ben looked down in surprise. He’d forgotten about the bouquet of roses in his hand. They were yellow. Her favorite color.
“These are for you. An apology for all the trouble I’ve given you over the years, and because I love you.”
The tension in his chest eased as he saw her answering smile.
“Don’t worry,” Ben whispered to himself. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”
He crept down the alley, breathing dust from the hot concrete into his lungs. He stopped under the red awning of a restaurant.
Pioneer Square was in chaos. The popular tourist destination had been packed with a mid-summer crowd when the bomb went off. Bodies lay everywhere, tended by dozens of paramedics.
Ben felt a burst of lasers flash through the implants in his brain. He waited until his heart rate slowed, then stepped out onto the sun-drenched pavement.
A policeman spun in surprise. “What are you doing here?” Smoke billowed from the bombed-out car behind him, bringing the warring aromas of gasoline and sizzling fat. He ran towards Ben, radio in hand.
“I’ve got the day off,” Ben muttered.
The officer frowned. “This area’s been cordoned off, sir. Only first responders are allowed. You need to leave.”
Ben waved his left hand in the air. “Poof.”
The policeman hesitated. “Are you all right?”
Warm contentment welled up inside of Ben. “Don’t worry. I’m the happiest I’ve been since I was a little kid.”
He paused. Something was wrong. A familiar wave of shame engulfed him.
“What’s this?” The officer lifted the edge of Ben’s heavy coat, unusual in the August heat.
Ben’s breathing quickened. What were those cylinders and wires wrapped around his ribs?
Another pulse discharged within his brain. He blinked his eyes and relaxed.
He noticed a device in his right hand. A dead man’s switch. It was yellow, his mother’s favorite color.
“This is for you.” Ben extended his hand with a smile as the policeman backed away, eyes wide. “An apology, and because I lo—”
His memory cleared a split second before the blinding flash tore through him.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Congratulations on a well written flash story that reflects some of our dark side.
Thanks, to my number one fan.
Artful changeup pitch from the usual Havok. Keep it up!
Thank you. I consider the idea of being unusual to be the highest complement in Science Fiction. It’s what the genre is made for.
Such a sad story, but I absolutely love what you did with the mirrored events! The echo, the deja vu feel of that…! Tracy, this is next level writing craft. Great job.
“Next level writing craft.” Can I put that on my resume?
You made my day, Teddi.
Great story! Wonderful descriptions and chilling twist! Congratulations Tracy!!!
Thanks for reading my story, CT. I’m glad you liked it.
Oh my goodness O_O what a chilling story!
Thanks, Cassandra.
I quite literally have goosebumps.
Goosebumps are good, right?
Thanks for reading and commenting, Violetta.
Wow, such a cool concept! I thought the ending was confusing but I liked the idea of repeating events with slightly different meanings. I’d love if there were something to ease my anxiety, lol. I like how you incorporated the color into the story.
Hi, Thyemis.
Thanks for liking the concept, and the colors.
I appreciate your input.