When I came to on the fourth day, I was alone.
But I wasn’t in the community room.
No freshly painted walls adorned in that nauseating white. No chemical plume to choke on.
Just memories of an eyeless Marc, a mouthless Katarina.
Jasmine with her skull crushed in, brain leaking out.
As the opiates wore off, I began feeling nostalgic for the loan sharks.
Sometimes you flip a coin and just lose.
I found myself in a small room, the kind you imagined a suspected sex offender getting roughed up in on a TV police procedural.
A table. A comfortable chair for me, an empty one across from me. A pad of paper and a pen. Speakers hung from every corner of the room along with cameras watching from a dozen angles.
My body was wracked with pain as the morphine wore off. My burns screamed, broken bones ached, and the world was completely silent.
I spoke, yelled, screamed. At least, I think I did. The only sensory feedback my body received was the feeling of my mouth moving and my heart breaking.
My hearing was gone.
I was deaf.
The fear in me was melting away. I just felt the serenity of surrender. Enough pain and exhaustion will do that, I guess.
All the chips were in the middle; whatever happens, happens.
Thus spoke the gambler.
A door opened and one of the team members wheeled in a television. He pointed at his eyes and then the TV, signaling for me to watch it.
I nodded my head in assent. The drone left.
Why fight the rising tide?
For hours, a solitary word flashed across the screen.
“DAGDWYVNEIRL”
Over. And over. And over.
Nothing happened.
Finally, the screen went blank.
A few minutes later, the TV rebooted and words began to roll listlessly across the screen:
“WELCOME TO CLINICAL TRIAL 87, SUBJECT 4.
THE FIXED PARAMATERS OF THE TRIAL DICTATE THAT AN INDIVIDUAL CLINICIAN EXPLAIN IN DETAIL THE NECESSARY BACKGROUND INFORMATION, ALONG WITH INSTRUCTIONS FOR SUCCESSFULL TRIAL COMPLETION.
THE LOSS OF YOUR HEARING HAS ALTERED THIS STAGE OF THE TRIAL. OUR RESARCH INDICATES YOU DO NOT KNOW AMERICAN SIGN LANGUAGE. AS A RESULT, NECESSITY DICTATES WE USE A VISUAL MEDIUM.
THE NECESSARY BACKGROUND INFORMATION IS AS FOLLOWS:
THREE YEARS AGO, A TEAM OF ARCHAEOLOGISTS AT AN UNDISCLOSED LOCATION UNEARTHED THE REMNANTS OF A PREVOUSLY UNKNOWN EARLY CIVILIZATION
CARBON DATING OF THE ARTIFICATS RECOVERED REVEALED THIS CIVILIZATION EXISTED NEARLY 350 MILLION YEARS AGO, PREDATING DINOSAURS BY APPROXIMATELY 100 MILLION YEARS.
THE ARTIFACTS SUGGEST THE CIVILIZATION WAS BIPEDAL AND HUMANOID.
WE CANNOT GO INTO DETAIL BEYOND THAT.
FOR PURPOSES OF THIS TRIAL, IT IS CRITICAL YOU UNDERSTAND THE DETAILS OF ONE ARTIFACT: A BOOK.
THE TEXTUAL LANGUAGE OF THE BOOK DOES NOT CORRELATE WITH ANY KNOWN HISTORICAL LANGUAGE OR PICTOGRAPHIC LEXICON.
NEITHER ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE NOR LEADING LINGUISTIC EXPERTS HAVE BEEN ABLE TO DECODE OR TRANSLATE ANY MEANING WITHIN THE TEXT.
HOWEVER, THE FEW EXPERTS PERMITTED TO REVIEW THE TEXT ALL EXPERIENCED THE SAME PHENOMENA.
EACH REVIEWER BECAME OBSESSIVLEY ATTACHED TO A SINGLE, ARBITRARY SYMBOL. WITHOUT ANY SCIENTIFIC BASIS, THEY WERE ABLE TO PROVIDE THE WORD’S PRONUNCIATION.
WE MUST REDACT ALL OTHER EXPERIENTIAL DATA REGARDING THESE INITIAL REVIEWERS.
WE HAVE COLLECTED THE PRONUNCIATIONS OF 47 DISTINCT WORDS. WE DO NOT KNOW THE MEANING OF THE WORDS.
EARLY CLINICAL TRIALS DEMONSTRATED THAT LISTENING TO THE WORD BEING SPOKEN REPITIOUSLY PRODUCED FUNDAMENTAL CHANGES IN TEST SUBJECTS.
FIRST, A RAPID AND DRAMATIC CHANGE IN PERSONALITY, ACCOMPANIED BY A FEELING OF POSSESSIVENESS OF THAT WORD.
SECOND, A SIGNIFICANT CHANGE IN A PHYSICAL TRIAL.
THIRD, THE ACQUISITION OF AN INHUMAN ABILITY.
FOURTH, A FULL TRANSITION OF THE SUBJECT’S STATE, FOLLOWED BY INTENSE AGGRESSION AND SUBSEQUENT DEATH.
EXPERIMENTATION HAS NARROWED DOWN THE REQUISITE EXPOSURE TIME FRAME NEEDED TO INDUCE THESE CHANGES.
EARLY TRIALS REVEALED ANY OTHER SPEAKER OR LISTENER IS SIMILARLY EXPOSED AND SUBJECT TO THE SAME CHANGES AND RISKS.
CURRENT TRIALS NOW USE AN AI VOICE MODULATOR TO INSULATE EXPOSURE SOLELY TO THE CLINICAL SUBJECT.
YOUR INSTRUCTIONS INCLUDE SOME STANARDIZED GUIDELINES. NEW PROCEDURES HAVE BEEN INDIVIDUALIZED FOR THE SPECIFIC NEEDS OF YOUR TRIAL.
THEY ARE AS FOLLOWS:
1. YOU WILL LIKELY DIE AS A RESULT OF THIS TRIAL. IT IS NECESSSARY TO EXPOSE AS MANY AFFECTED SUBJECTS TO OTHER NON-AFFECTED SUBJECTS AS POSSIBLE TO FULLY OBSERVE THE PROCESS CATALYZED BY THE WORD.
HOWEVER, LATTER AND FINAL SUBJECTS HAVE WITNESSED CONSISTENT DEATH OF PRIOR TEST SUBJECTS. THEREFORE, ANY ATTEMPT TO DECIEVE THESE SUBJECTS WOULD ADD IMPROPER EMOTIONAL VARIABLES. THIS IS PARTICULARLY TRUE IN YOUR CASE, GIVEN YOUR BACKGROUND IN DECEPTION.
THEREFORE, IN THE INTEREST OF FULL DISCLOSURE, THERE HAVE BEEN A TOTAL OF 87 TRIALS WITH 4 SUBJECTS PER TRIAL. NO SUBJECT HAS SURVIVED A TRIAL. ALL INCIDENTAL SPEAKERS AND LISTENERS TO EARLIER TRIALS ALSO PERISHED.
IF YOU SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETE THIS TRIAL, UPON YOUR DEATH ALL YOUR OUTSTANDING DEBTS WILL BE PAID AND ANYONE WTH ANY MEANINGFUL CONNECTION TO YOU WILL RECEIVE $20,000 MONTH FOR 24 MONTHS.
2. CIRCUMSTANCES HAVE CREATED A UNIQUE SET OF VARIABLES FOR YOUR TRIAL. A DEAF SUBJECT HAS NEVER BEEN SELECTED OR UTILIZED. THIS OBVIOUSLY PRECLUDES ANY AUDIO DELIVERY OF THE WORD’S PRONUNCIATION.
PAST TRIALS HAVE SHOWN THAT VISUAL DELIVERY OF THE WORD PRODUCES NO QUANTITATIVE OR QUALITATIVE CHANGES IN THE SUBJECT. PRIOR TO THESE INSTRUCTIONS, WE DELIVERED A WORD VIA SPEAKER ALONG WITH THE SAME ATTEMPT AT VISUAL STIMULATION, WHICH CATALYZED NO RESULTS IN YOU.
IN AN UNPRECEDENTED STEP, YOU WILL BE GIVEN THE ARTIFICAT.
YOU ARE INSTRUCTED TO INSPECT EVERY SYMBOL IN THE TEXT UNTIL YOUR MIND BEGINS TO UNDERSTAND ONE. CONTINUE OBSERVING THIS SYMBOL UNTIL ITS PRONUNCIATION BECOMES CLEAR IN YOUR MIND.
WHEN THE PROUNCIATION FULLY MATERIALIZES, SIGNAL THE CAMERA. A TEAM MEMBER WIL ENTER THE ROOM, AND YOU WILL SPEAK THE WORD ALOUD ONLY ONCE.
IF THE WORD IS CLEAR AND AUDIBLE, THE TEAM MEMBER WILL SIGNAL YOU WITH A THUMBS UP TO PROCEED RECITATION OF THAT WORD AT THAT VOLUME. RECITE IT CONTINUOUSLY AT A SLOW, RELAXED BUT CONSISTENT PACE.
IF THE WORD IS INAUDIBLE OR UNCLEAR, THE TEAM MEMBER WILL SIGNAL YOU BY RAISING THEIR HANDS PALM UP. CONTINUE RAISE THE VOLUME OF YOUR VOICE AND TO TRY AND CLARIFY THE PRONUNCIATION. THE TEAM MEMBER WILL SIGNAL YOU, THEN LEAVE.
3. YOU WILL BE MONOTIRED AT ALL TIMES VIA VIDEO WITH NO AUDIO.
IF IT APPEARS YOU ARE FEIGNING RECITATION OR ARE ATTEMPTING TO OTHERWISE UNDERMINE THE TRIAL, NO DEBTS WILL BE PAID, NO MONIES WILL BE DISTRIBUTED, AND YOU WILL BE TERMINATED VIA LETHAL INJECTION.
ANY ATTEMPT TO OVEREXPOSE OR PHYSICALLY HARM THE TEAM MEMBER WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE TERMINATION BY AN ARMED GUARD.
ANY ATTEMPT TO DESTROY OR TAMPER WITH THE TEXT IN WILL RESULT IN THE SAME OUTCOME.
YOUR TERMINATION OR SUICIDE WILL RESULT IN NO DEBTS OR MONIES BEING PAID.
ONE CRITERION FOR SUBJECT SELECTION WAS A HOPELESS PERCEPTION COMBINED WITH A DESPERATE NEED FOR A SUBSTANTIAL AMOUNT OF MONEY.
SUCCESSFUL COMPLETION OF THE TRIAL IS THE ONLY MECHANISM BY WHICH TO SATIATE THAT NEED.
4. BASED ON THE DATA COLLECTED, TWO WORKING HYPOTHESES HAVE BEEN GENERATED REGARDING THIS ARTIFICAT:
1. THIS BOOK WAS SOME FORM OF A HOLY BOOK.
2. THIS BOOK WAS USED TO CREATE WHAT HUMANS LATER CAME TO RECOGNIZE AND WORSHIP AS DIETIES.
5. ONCE YOU BEGIN RECITING THE WORD YOU MAY DO WHATEVER YOU PLEASE, SO LONG AS THE RECITATION CONTINUES.
WRITE ANYTHING YOU WOULD LIKE ON THE PAD WITH THE PEN AND HOLD IT UP FOR THE CAMERA AT THE END OF THESE INSTRUCTIONS.
NO WEAPONS OR INTOXICANTS ARE PERMITTED. WATER WILL BE PROVIDED.
6. RECITATION WILL TAKE 7 HOURS, 7 MINUTES, AND 7 SECONDS.
YOU WILL THEN RETURN TO THE COMMUNITY ROOM FOR OBSERVATION.
IF NO CHANGES ARE PRODUCED, THE TRIAL WILL CONTINUE THE FOLLOWING DAY VIA A NEW MEDIUM.
THE TRIAL WILL COMMENCE SHORTLY.”
The TV screen went blank.
I sat there, processing the sheer absurdity of it all.
Hell is a door locked from the inside, and I’d jammed it shut.
Time for one last game.
A gambler only has one bit of sacred knowledge; the secret to surviving.
Broke and bust, flush and riding the crest of the wave, a gambler keeps going.
This…this was where that ran out.
Oh well.
I scribbled on the pad and held it up for the camera, my singular request:
“A deck of cards.”
The man with the box came through the door.
Older. Late 50’s. A sharply kept grey beard. Lab coat.
No mask. No reason to hide any more, I suppose.
The box was made of jet-black obsidian, adorned with a litany of deeply carved, bizarre symbols, each impossibly white.
The man with the box sat it down, opened it, and removed a book.
Bone. The book was made of bone. I’d bet the farm on it.
Every inch of the cover was riddled with more of the unfamiliar characters. Peering closely, each was a confusing amalgam, a rune within a letter within a crude drawing.
The man with the box sat down the book with some trepidation, took the pen, paper, and box, and left.
He wouldn’t meet my eyeline.
Cowards don’t belong at the poker table.
I began gently flipping through the book.
I’d given thought to destroying as much as I could of it. Save myself some pain with a quick bullet to the dome, maybe save the subjects of Clinical Trial 88 and beyond.
I decided against it.
I am not a good man.
If I was going to die, I wanted to buy the ticket, take the ride.
I wanted to see where the rabbit hole ended.
Scared money don’t make money.
I systematically worked my way through page after page. Nothing meant anything to me.
Until it did.
I heard a whisper in my mind.
Faint, at first. Like the disappearing memory of a once vivid dream, the last remnant of the echo in the cave.
My eyes locked onto a single symbol, about halfway down a page, midway through the book.
Picture the capital letter “E,” now breed it with a square, now slam it into a primitive drawing of giant snake.
The voice in my head slowly grew with each repetition.
A whisper became a mutter. A mutter became a statement. A statement became a snarl. A snarl became a scream.
It didn’t hurt or consume me. The voice…it felt like it belonged inside me.
I don’t know how long I’d been staring at the symbol. Minutes, hours? I waved at the camera.
The man with the box returned.
I could see a guard waiting in the doorway, hand on a holstered pistol, earplugs in.
I pronounced the word to a silent world, hoping some sound was coming out of my mouth.
The man with the box smiled, gave me a thumbs up, took the book and gingery placed it in the box.
He left me a fresh deck of cards and closed the door behind him.
Fucker never met my eyeline.
I began reciting the word, trying to match my exact volume. Hard to do when you can’t hear a damn thing, but I just went for the same strain and fluctuation in my throat. I figured I would err on the side of caution. Better to be too loud than too quiet.
The voice in my head grew soft and then silent as I mutely called out the word.
I aimlessly dealt me and no one across from me poker hand after hand, running out boards of community cards, and then checking who won.
So far, the phantom was crushing me.
I kept reciting the word.
I could hear Hank Williams Sr. in my head, crooning, voice filled with regret, singing the lyrical tattoo that snaked its way across my upper back:
“Just a deck of cards, and a jug of wine, and woman’s lies, makes a life like mine.”
The more I said the word, the more relaxed and comfortable I felt.
The constant pain from my numerous wounds vanished. The world was becoming blurry, then black.
Time lost all meaning. Seconds became hours, hours became minutes.
Had they dosed me with morphine?
What would be the point? When would they have even done that, anyway? They said no intoxicants, how would I be able to pronounce the word?
I began rambling incoherently, an tremendous lightness filling me up:
Now the only thing a gamblin’ man ever needsIs a suitcase, Lord, and a trunkAnd the only time a fool like him is satisfiedIs when he’s all stone cold drunk
Reality was unmistakably shifting.
The darkness grew and the sights of this world were slipping away.
I suddenly just stopped caring.
About Clinical Trial 87.
About anything.
Except my word.
I left this reality behind for another.
The world was gone. And so was I.
I sat alone in the utter blackness of the void.
It was just me, my chair, the table, and an empty seat across from me.
I dealt hand after hand, filled with an eerie tranquility.
The dirge escaped from my lips, pregnant with every emotion I’d caged on the way down the ladder of life.
“Just a deck of cards, and a jug of wine, and woman’s lies, makes a life like miiiiiiiiine.”
The words were sharp, clear.
Unmistakable.
My hearing had returned.
Every ounce of pain was gone from my body.
A cursory glance told me my wounds had vanished.
And with each deal, I won every hand.
Muttering, screaming, shouting it. A praise chorus, a call, a warning, a threat, a place to belong, a name.
My word.
MY word.
I began belting ol’ Hank at the top of my lungs.
I fell silent as I heard a sound, like a horse gently trotting along cobblestone, off in the distance.
Come and see, and I saw.
Someone, something was forming, approaching me, from the emptiness of the abyss.
Into the darkness, I whispered my word, the only word that mattered:
“NEZKVHANYTIKLYTIC”