God Of Frankenstein

God of Frankenstein

GOF – Chapter 1 – Everything Is Fine

 

For over a billion years, algae dominated the Earth, marinated with subatomic particles from space, and rotisserie-cooked by the sun. Life soup, cultivating for ONE BILLION YEARS! A BILLION YEARS trying to get the stew right for prokaryotes, amoebas, and all the mistakes to follow.

 

David reread it, then mumbled, “What is this?” The notebook didn’t look like any diary or collection of school notes he had ever seen. And why did his son conceal it in a secret compartment under his desk? And why so many? There were at least forty more notebooks in the hidden storage.

He checked the cover again. It was black and white and typical of any school notebook. The title “GOF vol I” was handwritten in blue marker.

Who, or what, was GOF? His son’s name was Isaac. David’s wife had picked the name for its biblical roots, though now it seemed more in line with Newton or Asimov, considering his son’s love of science.

David went back to reading the first few pages.

 

Did the algae think that the Earth belonged to them, that they were the center of the universe, that they had a divine purpose to rule forever? During that BILLION years, did any of the algae think maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t about them? That they were just stepping stones? Links in a chain? Seeds? Tools? Micro workers organically programmed to prepare the Earth for something greater?

 

          What odd ramblings. Isaac had always taken extensive notes about science stuff, he had been an A+ student after all, but these were rather philosophical thoughts for such an analytical young man.

Under the algae comment there were several molecular formulas. The drawings had labels David could not even imagine how to pronounce.

He flipped several pages. More strange statements:

 

There are over 7500 varieties of apples, most with life-boosting properties. Fiber, Thiamine, Riboflavin…

 

David skimmed the list. Vitamins and minerals, he assumed.

 

However, the Manchineel apple will kill you. And large quantities of most types of apple seeds can be ground up to make cyanide.

 

“What the hell?” David usually avoided cursing in the house. Every time he slipped, he felt like a bad dad and put a dollar into the Swear Jar by the fridge.

He frowned, looking around the vacant room. Not anymore. No one to be a good example for.

 

          Maybe the witch didn’t need a potion to poison Snow White’s apple.

          And maybe, long ago, there was a variety of apples that could have altered primitive primate neurons and expanded reasoning and knowledge absorption. Some anthropologists think primates may have unintentionally expanded their minds with hallucinogenic mushrooms. Perhaps the Forbidden Fruit was actually a vegetable. (though fungi are not really that either) Perhaps the serpent only seemed to speak because that’s what happens when you’re tripping balls.

 

Was his son trying to be funny? Was this a crass joke book for scientists?

David glanced towards the hallway. Good thing his wife hadn’t seen this; she would not have been amused by the blasphemy.

Maybe that’s why Isaac had hidden the notebooks, worried they’d upset his mother?

David shook away the urge to blame his wife for their son’s secrecy and flipped the page. More molecule drawings with long labels.

Even though they’d never had Isaac tested, David could see why teachers had thought the boy might have a genius-level IQ. Isaac had always insisted the definition was flawed. Once, he had offhandedly remarked, “The brightest idiot in a sea of idiots is still an idiot.” Isaac could be both humble and a condescending little shit sometimes.

David’s stomach tightened. Oh, how he missed every flaw, every act of brilliance, and every goofy little smile the boy offered.

The next few pages were details about fungi, with underlined sections highlighting deadly variants.

He shook his head. Had Isaac been researching different ways to hurt someone? Had he been upset, depressed, or angry with the world?

In their last phone call before… the incident, Isaac had seemed fine. He was busy, preparing for his SATs and college applications. No hint at anything upsetting.

“What did I miss?” David muttered to himself, fighting the urge to start crying again.

He flipped to a technical drawing of the solar system and something to do with tides and gravitational fluctuations. The math on the sidebar was beyond anything David had ever studied.

Angled text in the footer read:

 

Where is the Periodic Table for the forces of nature? Gravity. Thermal dynamics. A contagious yawn. A lie that sends people to their death. The pain that drives a penguin to steal another penguin’s egg for their own. A parent’s belittling remark toward their own child. A nightmare that forever alters someone’s life. The entropy that brings chaos to all things, including our souls.

 

David gritted his teeth. Did his son have some sort of extreme existential crisis? How had these disturbing thoughts gotten into his son’s head?

He fetched another notebook — way in the back to get what he hoped was the last volume. It had a long roman numeral on it.

The puzzle continued. Odd statements, quotes from famous people, and more drawings. Newspaper and science magazine clippings seemed to shift from biology to artificial intelligence — stuff his wife definitely would have hated.

David skipped to the last page. The writing was sloppy, unlike Isaac. No paragraph indentations. The words were tight together and barely stayed on the light-blue guidelines. It was a jumble of confusing descriptions. Something about a “Daedalus Labyrinth for organic robots,” “humanity is on Sisyphus’ hill,” and “an experiment doomed to infinite repetition.”

Then, the last lines, circled in deeply grooved red ink as if the writer was angry:

 

EVERYTHING IS FINE! YOUR PROGRAMMING IS WORKING!

YOU WERE DESIGNED NOT TO BELIEVE THIS,

AND TO SUFFER ACCORDINGLY.

 

“What are you doing?” His wife marched into the room. “What is that?” She reached for the notebook.

David pulled away. “I found it hidden under Isaac’s desk. It’s a journal or something.”

She examined the compartment and gasped.

Maggie wasn’t the petite young woman he had married twenty years ago, but she was still pretty, when her thick blond hair wasn’t so frizzed. She usually had a lovely smile too, but these days she mostly scowled or cried, even before Isaac’s funeral.

“I was gathering the wastebasket, and I noticed a split where the wallpaper didn’t align under the desk.” He turned the book over and showed her the cover. “They’re journals, or notebooks. No dates, but sequential numbers for each entry, with each subject loosely related to the next. Geek notes, I guess.”

David couldn’t help but fondly recall how his son liked being teased about being a science geek. “Yep,” he’d say. “And one day we’re going to rule the world.”

Maggie opened one of the notebooks in the middle.

A newspaper clipping fell onto the desk. The title read: Microbes have learned to eat plastic (Journal of Science Today, vol 2012.8.1).

Maggie quoted the notebook, “‘The Stone Age. The Bronze Age… The Age of Polymers. We are food for fungi and bacteria. Our waste is the buffet of the microbiological kingdom. Maybe the lords of fungi want more complex meals. We fertilize the Earth with our greed and waste, giving the micro-overlords new ways to grow and expand their empire. Even in death, we serve the Earth.’”

David cringed, recalling his son’s casket descending into the Earth.

Maggie slammed the notebook closed. “We need to burn these.” She put her palm out toward David. “All of them.”

He kept the journal out of reach. “No.”

She scoffed. “Oh, now you want to get to know your son. Travel, travel, travel, more interested in sports and money, and you’re surprised you don’t know who he was.”

David sighed, trying to ignore her stabbing words. His heart was wounded enough already. “Don’t exaggerate. Remember what the therapist said.”

“Don’t use miss fancy pants against me,” Maggie barked, looking like she might lunge forward and bite him. “Give me the journal. You have no right to any of them.”

David smothered a spark of anger. He dared not let it get the best of him. He was a good husband and father, he assured himself, and for Isaac, he was determined to maintain the peace. “He was my son, too.” It hurt to say was. “Maybe we’ll find some clue in these notebooks that explain why Isaac…” He still couldn’t utter suicide. “…did what he did.”

“You don’t deserve to know his private thoughts. You didn’t love him like I did.”

His stomach sank. He told himself, be patient. Breathe, like the therapist advised. Maggie is devastated, angry, and of course she’s going to lash out. But, once again, he remembered a talk show explaining why so few marriages survive the death of a child.

“I loved him, and you know it. I think you want to destroy the notebooks for the same reason you threw out his books, his telescope, and his chem set.” He motioned toward the empty bookshelves on the far side of the room. The room was bare except for the desk set and a bed with the Periodic Table of Elements printed on the comforter. A drab husk of a life now lost forever. The sight still made David want to crumble into tears. No wonder he’d put off coming in here. “We agreed that we’d clean out this room together, when we were ready, but you couldn’t wait.”

“That’s right. I threw all of it out!” Her face filled  with rage. But in the tiny crevices of her eyes, her twitching lip, and her cracking voice, David could sense her immeasurable sadness. “Science killed him.”

“Maggie,” he pleaded. “What does that even mean?”

She folded her arms.

“The therapist doesn’t understand it. I don’t understand it.” He feared this was part of her almost fanatical return to her childhood faith. The last few years had been littered with all sorts of snotty anti-science remarks, and it had gotten far worse after Isaac’s death. “Maggie, sooner or later you’re going to have to tell someone what you and Isaac talked about that night.”

She rolled her wet eyes and a tear escaped. “Why, so you can blame me? You think it was something I said to him?”

“No, but you were the last one to speak with him. He left no… note.” David almost said suicide note. “I’m your husband. How can you not tell me what happened?”

He gripped the notebook and looked toward the desk. Maybe Isaac did leave a note. A long one. In volumes.

Hands to her hips, Maggie said, “Our conversation is none of your—”

Something, somewhere, buzzed. A cell phone! David felt his pocket, but it wasn’t his. Maggie looked about, clearly baffled. Isaac’s personal phone was downstairs. David had already spent an hour trying to guess the password.

The buzzing continued.

They both zeroed in on the bed.

David dove to the side, determined to beat Maggie.

Sure enough, between the mattress and the box spring was a bright-colored flip phone he had never seen before. It looked cheap, not an app phone. A prepaid maybe?

“Hello.” He had no idea why he answered it. Just seemed like the thing to do. And, deep down, he felt an absurd hope that maybe it was Isaac, calling from a magical light-filled place that David had difficulty believing in anymore.

Maggie gripped David’s shoulder. “Who is it?”

He looked at the phone. “They hung up.”

“Call them back.”

“Maybe it’s just a friend of Isaac’s, who dialed wrong, or doesn’t know… what happened.” Highly unlikely; Isaac didn’t have many friends, often claiming that people his own age were boring. More importantly, why did Isaac even have a secret phone in the first place? It implied he was speaking with someone his parents might not approve of. Maybe someone gave Isaac the phone, to keep dirty little secrets.

David felt his blood heating up.

 

—

 

GOF Notebook, Volume IX, page 35:

Citizen 1: Senators are corrupt, accepting bribes. One was stabbed to death, by other senators!

Citizen 2: The sanctity of marriage is crumbling. Children no longer respect their elders. The Gods of Olympus are failing us.

Citizen 3: The Gauls, Visigoths, and Vandals are threatening to rape and pillage our city!

Citizen 4: The fall of Rome must be near.

Time Traveler: Yes, this is exciting news. The inevitable destruction of your empire, and many to follow, is fertilizer for my world to come.

 

—

GOF – Chapter 2 – Strangers

 

“Give me the phone.” Maggie leaned on David as if she was willing to trample him to get the phone.

“No.” He kept the phone to his side. “You got the last conversation with Isaac. I get this, and the journals, and anything else I want until you talk to me about what happened that night.”

“Fine.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you going to call the person back?”

Slowly, he used the phone’s screen menu to find the last number that came in. “Huh.” He scrolled and scrolled. “There are tons of calls to and from the one number.”

Dark words snaked into David’s head. Obsession. Stalker. Predator.

He clicked the number and it rang. His breathing and heart sped up. Stay calm, composed, David told himself. There is a reasonable, non-traumatizing answer, surely. Hopefully.

“Otto Institute. This is Dr. Tarkoo.” The man’s voice was elderly, and possibly foreign, but the few words sounded pleasant. Like a dear old grandfather, eager to greet his grandchildren.

Something snapped in David. “Who the fuck are you, and why are you calling my son?”

“Is this Isaac’s father?” Tarkoo sounded mystified.

“Yes!” David restrained his urge to add more obscenities. “Why is your number on a phone of Isaac’s, listed repeatedly?” He put the phone on speaker so Maggie would stop leaning on him to hear.

She fidgeted, glaring at David.

“Oh, I thought I dialed wrong. Sorry for hanging up. I was just checking to see why Isaac never got back to me about the internship.”

“Internship?” David was baffled, but he noticed that Maggie didn’t seem surprised at all.

“Recording and cataloging octopi behaviors at our private aquarium.” Tarkoo’s tone lowered. “He didn’t tell you?”

David scoffed. “Was this to pad his college applications over the summer or something?”

“Actually, Isaac told me that he wasn’t going to college.”

“Not going to college?” David eyed Maggie. She didn’t even flinch. Was this what they talked about that dreadful night?

“I don’t understand,” David said. “Why would Isaac want an internship with you?”

“Isaac said he just wanted to participate in our project. For free, if we couldn’t offer him anything. He also asked for my email so he could send me some links to videos that he wanted to discuss with me.” Tarkoo gave a light chuckle. “I was annoyed at first, but after speaking with him a bit, I realized how smart he was. So I went to bat with my boss and got Isaac an internship position. We offered it to him last week.”

“And Isaac said he wanted to do this instead of college?” David really couldn’t believe it. For years, Isaac had seemed obsessed with going to college as soon as possible.

Maggie snarled at the phone. “Isaac never talked about any interest in fish aquariums.”

“Oh, it’s more than that. This is the frontline of the evolution sciences. Go to our website. We blend genetic and social engineering.” Tarkoo sounded proud. “Essentially, we’re doing what they did for Koko the Gorilla, but on a community scale. Instead of teaching regular sign language, we’re using revolutionary nootropics and behavioral conditioning to help octopi create their own physical language, and to pass it on. It’s all in our public investor material.”

“Hang up, David.” Maggie started pacing. “Before he corrupts you, too.”

Tarkoo laughed. “We’re not corrupting anyone. Look, Isaac can probably explain his interest better than I can. That kid has a great head on his shoulders. You should be proud.”

“I am proud.” Sitting on the bed, David swallowed. These next words were going to hurt. “But… Isaac is… no longer with us. He took his life.” He could feel sadness pulling at his lips, trying to turn his frown into another bout of sobbing.

Tarkoo lost his exuberance. “I am so, so sorry. That’s terrible.”

David teared up, but held it back the reservoir of sadness trying to break free.

Maggie mumbled something and stomped out of the room.

“Not to be insensitive,” Tarkoo said, “but I have to ask, are you sure Isaac… did it to himself?”

He rolled his eyes. Not to be insensitive? Really? “Yes. The police found his body and investigated. They believe he jumped off a bridge.” David couldn’t drive over the bridge anymore, and even mentioning the location made him feel queasy.

“I see.” Tarkoo’s voice sounded measured, if not skeptical.

“What?” David was sure Tarkoo was itching to say more.

“Well, there were the threats,” Tarkoo said. “The nasty emails.”

“Threats?” David sat up, adrenaline flooding back into his veins. “Against my son? About what?”

“You don’t know about what he had posted online, before he took it all down?”

“No.” Another slap in the face, reminding David that he didn’t really know his son. “We haven’t found his laptop yet. We have no idea what he was doing online.” He looked to the hall. Maggie hadn’t seemed worked up about the missing laptop, either. Had she thrown that out as well, with all the other room stuff? Or could she have kept it for herself?

Tarkoo sighed. “Look, I don’t want to upset you anymore. I’ll send you the emails Isaac forwarded to me, and you can look into it yourself.”

“Dammit, tell me what the hell was going on with our son.”

There was a long pause. “Okay, I’m sorry, but Isaac was sharing documents and videos about some pretty outlandish theories. Some people online accused him of trying to start a new religion.”

David huffed. “He despised religion.” As young as nine, Isaac had resisted going to church, comparing it to worshiping Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. Maggie had eventually gotten tired of arguing with him. David had managed to stay neutral, trying to avoid the drama. Maybe he shouldn’t have.

“They’re not online anymore, but Isaac’s videos were rather unnerving. He suspected that there is a God ingredient that should be on the Periodic Table. Said he found the clues for it in a thousand historical breadcrumbs.”

“God ingredient?” David looked at the labeled element boxes on the bedspread print. He only knew a few of the elements — another reminder of how much he was disconnected from his son’s interests.

“It can’t be described with a brief summary, like trying to summarize everything about quantum theory. You’d have to see his videos and follow his research yourself to understand it.”

David looked toward the notebooks. Was that what all the strange ramblings were about?

“And then Isaac insisted that humans are meant to be expendable.” Tarkoo’s voice was ominous. “‘We’re Physarum slime mold in a maze-like Petri dish,’ and ‘The whole planet is one big Hunger Games that few, if any, are meant to survive.’ Isaac also talked about God not wanting to be worshiped but needing our suffering.”

David raised his eyebrows. Good thing Maggie didn’t hear that.

“That’s when the threats started.” Tarkoo paused and seemed to take a deep breath. “Before I could dissuade him, Isaac made a mini documentary about us and some think tanks that fund similar research. Pieces of Frankenstein’s Prometheus, he called it.”

What does that even mean? David couldn’t imagine where Isaac could get such weird ideas.

Tarkoo’s tone darkened. “Then the threats started coming our way as well. Typical ‘You’re going to burn in Hell’ nonsense, mostly. I asked Isaac not to mention the Otto Institute by name. He agreed. But last I checked, it looked like he just decided to take it all down.”

David ran his hand across the bright-colored comforter his son had slept under for so many years. It was cold now, lifeless. Not comforting at all. “And you think maybe someone wanted to harm my son because of this stuff he posted?”

“I’m used to running into the occasional science doubter, but there are the Ted Kaczynski types out there. The new Luddites, determined to keep us in the dark ages.”

“Well, the police seemed pretty sure of themselves,” David said, even though it was still tempting to believe otherwise. “A witness saw Isaac heading toward the bridge, alone.”

“I’ll forward the threats Isaac shared, and I’ll send you the ones we received. You can decide if you want to give them to the police.”

“Thank you.” David’s heart would love any shred of evidence that might mitigate his sense of being a neglectful father, but he was sure the emails probably wouldn’t lead to a grand revelation. Still, he was determined to learn everything about his son, positive or negative. “Ready to take my email address?”

“Hang up!” Maggie’s voice screeched from the doorway. She was pointing a gun at David, gripped with both hands.

He leapt to his feet. “Maggie, what the hell? Where did you get that?” They owned two hunting rifles, locked up, but no handguns. From his angle, looking down the barrel, it seemed like a chrome revolver. It looked authentic, but he had to ask, “Is that real?” Hopefully this was all some insane joke.

“Yes, it’s real, now hang up!” Her red watery eyes held a rage like David had never seen before.

“Okay, okay.” He closed the phone and tossed it on the bed. “There, it’s off. You can check.”

“This has to stop.” Tears rolled off her chin. “I can’t take any more.”

“Maggie, it’s over. I won’t talk to him again. I promise.” He tried to think of anything that might calm her.

“Don’t lie to me.” There was a tremble in her grip. “I know you. You’ll keep reading the notebooks. You won’t leave it alone.”

Who was this stranger? Maggie hated guns. She had been secretive lately, but David never could have dreamed Maggie would do something so crazy.

“You can have the notebooks.” Hands up, David took a subtle step forward. Maybe he could jump at the gun if he could distract her, for just a second.

She stepped back, keeping her aim level. “This is all your fault. You traveled too much. You let Isaac skip church.”

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He meant it. Isaac’s death, and maybe even the fall of his marriage, was surely his fault. “Let’s talk to the therapist about this.”

“No more therapists. No more tomorrow.” Her lip quivered and her voice went shrill. “No more Isaac.”

“I am so sorry, Maggie. Please, forgive me. I should have been home more. I should have been there for Isaac, and you.”

“Close your eyes!” Her knuckles were white. The gun barrel shook. “Close them!”

“Maggie, no.” He grasped at the only idea he could think of. “God wouldn’t want you to do this.”

“God?” Her breath shuttered. “God doesn’t care about us. He proved it. Isaac knew. He found the truth. The world is not meant for us.”

“Please Maggie. Come sit.” He motioned toward the bed. “Talk to me about what Isaac said.”

“No! No more talking!” She stiffened her stance.

“Don’t do this, Maggie.”

“Close your eyes, now!”

Was this it? Was she really going to shoot? If so, he didn’t want to see it. “I love you,” he lied as he closed his eyes. God, please do something.

He heard her take a deep, slow breath. Then another.

Bang!