After

From the personal journals of Dr. Michael S. Pitt
1995 July, Malibu

He was under water. That much he knew right away. Not submerged underwater in a protective vessel, but actually submerged in water. He was still breathing. Could feel himself breathing. The water was in his eyes but somehow he could see his surroundings clearly. The water was around his mouth, but when he opened his mouth, the water did not rush in. He couldn’t feel his body, so that was odd, but then again, he was so content just floating here in this new, wet matrix. It was pleasant, and he let himself drift. The fluid seemed to have a greenish hue, like looking through a grass stain.

He regarded the surroundings. He was leaning back up against a wall and was either strapped to a hospital bed, or sitting with the back of the thing raised all the way. His head felt perpendicular somehow. To his left and his right were two containers, each full of hair, or a small animal of some sort. The darkish fluid in which they were cast made it hard to tell. He tried to move his head but the most he could muster was his eyes and only quickly before exhaustion set in. Again he thought that he should be in some alarm, he’d obviously been detained here against his will.

But there was nothing. He didn’t feel worried or unsafe or anxious. He felt each of his limbs beneath him, suspended in this benign fluid. His arms, his hands, his fingers: flicking and feeling at the encasing liquid, casting about in their oily new protective coat. He felt whole, and the fact that he was suspended and submerged made him feel even more whole, as if he’d gained some kind of new bio-advantage and could swim underwater like a fish. He was a creature of water, fluid and graceful, no longer advised by the earthy confines of his previous incarnation. There was just this suspended grace now. And with it he could turn a magic key and unlock the answers that everybody struggles with. He had no self-doubt and everything with him was boundless. He would never be surprised, or taken advantage of by his enemies. He could function in a complete harmony with his world. Complete oneness. He smiled in his case. And gazed about the room for the first time.

It was a busy little place. Maybe six by six with an eight foot ceiling. He saw a desk in front of him and on it an old fashioned in/out box and cardboard blotter. There was paper there, strewn but confined to the desktop. A wooden chair was closer to his side of the room. On the far shelf he saw a bank of electric circuit-breakers. What looked like a larger version of a standard home-alarming station. Was he in somebody’s closet? A security office? He saw, against the wall to his left, a wall-mounted case with an opaque top. A weapons cache? Was he at a military establishment? There was, on the floor in the corner opposite his vantage, a cage of the kind used to train new pups. It was bright white and stood out against the beige walls and floor, gleaming at him with nothing inside but…but what were those things? Crickets? Roaches? The colored lights across from him beeped every few seconds, flashing out a series of blinks. He couldn’t remember ever having felt so secure and yet so completely stumped. He was looking forward to a complete reveal momentarily. When it came, he knew, it would be nothing less than spell-binding.

But it was taking a long time. After a while, as his eyes made the course around the room over and over, he began to wonder if he wasn’t in a coma, or horribly injured somewhere where people couldn’t get to him. What if he’d drowned and washed up on some undiscovered coast to breathe his last, insane breaths? Was he asleep on the beach still? Lucid dreaming because of the insanely potent herb he’d been smoking? What happened anyway? He’d been making ready to sleep the afternoon away and come back to his wife empty-handed but enthusiastic about their prospects tomorrow. He’d done just that! So what was this new wrinkle, and when would the situation declare itself?

***

He ended up waiting more than five days for any action whatsoever. When it came it was indeed spellbinding, but any remaining optimism was fairly crushed in light of the new development. What happened was this: He saw Roy II. Roy II was, of course, the second proto-type of new tissue. He’d been “born” fourteen months ago, and I’d been keeping him like a pet. Like Roy I, Roy II’d been constructed out of amphibian tissue melded to elements of human ANS and PNS systems. Not knowing though, Mason just saw a freaky-looking animal, obviously not of this earth, roaming about the space where he’s found himself imprisoned. His electrical recoil went through the roof and he almost died again. I was forced, in a calming effort, to be more forthcoming than I’d intended. The result was less than successful, but entirely vital to my work.

***

Mr. Mason. Mr. Mason? Can you hear me? Mr. Mason…

Hey, wow, it talks. Is that you little guy? Where are you buddy ?

Actually, Mr. Mason that was Roy II, he‘s a...he’s sort of a pet I guess…

Of course!

Yes. Mr. Mason. What do you remember?

I remember being on a beach. My wife’s gonna be pissed!

Actually Mr. Mason, the day at the beach was almost ten years ago. Your wife wasn’t pissed though. More worried than anything else. Until they found you, well parts of you. You were buried right here in Malibu, you can almost see the hilltop from here on the beach.

Hmmm. Ok…

***

I gave him the whole story. The my travails at DCU. My research. My betrayal at the hands of the DCU brass and, finally, about what I’d been up to out here, in my new environs. He seemed confused and, at times, angry. As is usual, however, with newly powered units It was difficult to gauge Mason’s true reaction. At the time of the interview, Mr. Mason was basically a heavily opiated brain floating in a glass jar. However, emotional control being such a huge part of what we’re hoping to accomplish, I think Mick’s ability to assimilate this exceptionally difficult to understand parcel of information over these subject is very positive development. We maybe farther a head than we’d thought. It appears that I’ll be debuting my new project in time after all. A welcome surprise, I can tell you, and one that could not have been better timed. Happy New Year indeed.