Slowed Down

by Brian Tonks

The Soft-Sun Wake-Up Aid ad showed a dark room with an

attractive woman lying in bed. The ambient light slowly

increased until the room was comfortably bright. She sat up,

apparently refreshed--obviously due to her ease of waking. The

make-up and professionally tussled hair may have contributed to

the peaceful impression.

The only similarity to Megs morning was the dark room.

She cursed the stupid $50 orb and hustled out of bed, late.

She wrapped herself up into a wooly mountain and dragged

her blankets with her to the kitchen side of her flat. The

morning coffee tasted like the dispenser. She tucked the mug

into her redoubt against the cold and fumbled with the half-and-

half. The crusty dried white solids around the flip top crumbled

into the fleecy folds of her blankets. She dragged the blankets

through her tiny kitchen while she lightened her coffee, a side

table tumbled ever so slowly to the floor, spilling magazines

and waking her not-so-tiny roommate.

Uggh. Ive got too much booze to sleep off for you to go

stomping around this early.

I start my new job, I shouldve-- In her haste to

complain, coffee dribbled down her chin. Monica, if I dont

Tonks / Slowed / 2 leave, like, twenty minutes ago, Im screwed. She righted the

little table, but left the magazines on the floor.

A loud low rumbling shook the street. With her face covered

by a pillow, her roommate mumbled, Thats the plow, now youre

really screwed.

Meg wasnt dressed yet, and already she was cursing the

plow both for making her late and for the ashes that would ruin

whatever pants she put on. Im taking your clutch, Monica, it

makes me look more professional. And this belt. She gulped down

the rest of her insipid breakfast and grimaced for the lack of

taste. Then she went back into the kitchen to paw through her

dirties for a pair of slacks grey enough to hide the ash stains,

knocking over the side table again.

Monica moaned in frustration from the couch, sat up and

replied, I give up. It wont make a difference, you said it

yourself, they hired you because youre cute. They wont fire

you for the very same reason, even if you cant do the job.

Why cant you sleep it off the way most roommates do--by

sleeping. Meg headed out.

Her shovel was in the trunk of her car, along with her

gloves. All the things she would need to get to her car were in

her car. Every time the irony kills her and every time, when she

is finished digging out her car, Meg throws her gloves and

Tonks / Slowed / 3 shovel back in the trunk. At least she had a mask in her jacket

pocket, she thought.

If only the apartment came with a parking space, then I

wouldnt be stuck on the street, shoveling this shit, like so

many-- Outside it seemed okay to talk to herself because her

mask muffled her words. Her thought was cutoff, however, with

the ghostly motion of the other cars moving on the street

without any drivers.

I hate those damn things, just drive it yourself, a voice

startled Meg--her roommate was suddenly there. Her hair was

frizzed out from her round head by her mask. She had thrown a

bathrobe over her fleece jammies so she looked like a fuzzy ball

with impossible flowers and Japanese kitties playing chutes and

ladders all up and down her arms and legs.

Wipe that look off your face, yes, trusty hung-over Monica

has dragged her fat ass off the couch to save yours on your

first day of work.

As they dug together the other cars moved in gentle little

motions, like the pieces on a sliding-block puzzle returning to

the spaces around her space. Megs hatred of the cars actually

bolstered her resolve. Otherwise she would have been too worried

about starting her new job or too repulsed by the smell of her

coffee breath trapped inside her mask to motivate through the

digging.

Tonks / Slowed / 4 Monica said it for both of them, I gotta get out of this

mask, I tell you, the only resemblance that coffee you picked up

has to real coffee is the stink of my breath trapped in my face,

now get going. Monicas love was enough abuse for Meg to

satisfy her need for both a lover and a boss. She barely said

thanks before Monica disappeared back inside the apartment

building.

Honestly, Meg was just happy for any job. Most of her

friends had jobs that required respirators or exposure tags.

Even with what the feds say on the news. She shuddered and

grimaced at the thought of hearing her breath for eight hours a

day. Still, most of the nurses from her program were employed.

It had been a good choice to cut out on her math degree and go

for nursing. Mom would be proud, probably. Maybe.

Meg composed herself and moved through the blower door into

her future career. The door sealed behind her with the sucking

sound of air hermetically evacuating. Her ears popped. She

dusted herself off out of habit and moved in to the lobby. The

room was at the same time austere and ornate. Wide marble

pillars rose as sentries amid a checkered pattern in the

polished floor. Where the walls ought to have been on her left

and right, instead mirrors extended from floor to ceiling,

making the illusion that the checkerboard floor expanded for an

infinite distance.

Tonks / Slowed / 5 The receptionist, or potentially the security guard, looked

expectantly at her. Meg moved instead to the side of the room,

placing one of the pillars between her and the young man. She

removed her mask and pinched her cheeks to try to rub away the

imprint it had left. She fluffed her hair so that her dark brown

locks fell to her shoulders a little fuller and adjusted her bra

to heave a little bit of life into her outfit.

Looking at herself, she grimaced, believing once again that

she got the job because she was cute--thin and curvy--and not

because they had more faith in her than the other nurses who

applied. If only she knew what the job entailed, she would know

that was ridiculous. Of course, she was also willing to live on

site, which any nurse with a family would not. So what if it is

because of my looks, vanity spoke, my looks are still me.

She turned to approach the desk and the young man was

suddenly panicked and commenced systematically rustling each one

of the papers in the stacks in front of him. She glanced to the

side and realized that he had had a view of her entire primping

routine through the mirrors geometry. But who was busted?

Floor F, he told her, nearly stammering on the two syllables.

The elevator presented more polished surfaces, this time

tinted to make Meg feel like she was in sepia tone from some old

movie. Slipping back into her head, she attempted a film noir

voice over, but each of her plot lines failed. She could not be

Tonks / Slowed / 6 the femme fatale and the detective at the same time. The dashing

district attorney in his rumpled tan suit needed to owe her one

more favor. She pressed the letter for her floor and was

surprised to feel the lift descend for such a long time. As the

doors finally opened, she was met by a narrow replication of the

lobby above, without the pillar motif and with only a single

mirror at the far end of the hall next to her door. She knew it

was her door because it was the only door.

Megs brow creased with uneasiness. She held her bag a

little more tightly. She strode to the lab door and pulled it

open. Looking in, finally she felt some relief. In the room were

dozens of familiar gadgets and pieces of machinery, monitors and

readouts, and banks of mobile shelving--all filled with medical

paraphernalia. Amid the flashing readouts and broadcast vitals,

a middle-aged man in a lab coat and oversized blue gloves bent

over a tub in the center of the room. She loosened the tight

grip on her bag and let it drop to the floor, announcing her

arrival.

Finally, youre here--not that you are, er, late, no I

dont mean that, no, although you are, but I mean I am finally

going to get some, er, time. Sorry, I forgot myself, welcome to

the basement, this is the stasis project and this is your

patient. He referred first to the whole room with a flip of his

hand in a giant blue mitt, then to the rectangular tub behind

Tonks / Slowed / 7 him. He still had not looked at her face, let alone looked her

in the eye. He removed one of his comically large blue gloves to

first push up his glasses, then extended the hand in greeting.

I have been working as both technician and caregiver since the

last nurse left. Its been weeks, no breaks, no TV, no news.

His eyes wandered down her overcoat and paused at her grey

slacks, pondering the ash stains around her cuffs.

She shook his hand and said her name. He continued without

stating his own, Right, we really shouldnt be talking here,

come with me.

He moved to lead her across the room to another door, but

she paused at the tub. It stood at a comfortable height, the

edge reaching her waist. It was filled with a gel or foam of

some sort. It was hard to distinguish which it was, in fact it

was hard to see, or it was hard to look at, like a scintillating

grid. A man was submerged in the gel-foam, the features of his

nude body were blurred by the substance, his face was not as

deeply submerged, and she could see wiring and tubing exchanges

entering his nose and mouth. His face was gentle but pointed, a

sharp nose, strong jaw, but soft sleeping eyes. He seemed old

enough to be keeping a secret, to have loved, and yet young

enough to hold Megs gaze for a few beats too long. He was her

district attorney, her dapper savior on horseback and her devil-

may-care artist. He was beautiful. So what if it was in the way

Tonks / Slowed / 8 that affluence can always afford. To Meg the gel-foam had the

same dreamy effect hairspray on the lens had for Marilyn

Monroes close-ups.

Yes, thats very well, well talk about the patient in

due, er, time. Heh heh, time.

Meg looked at the technician, puzzled by his laughter. He

was shorter than Meg by a head and even this far into the

conversation would not meet her eye so she mostly met his

balding scalp. His hairline had receded many inches and was most

likely still in retreat. A forehead, shiny with oil, reflected

the bright fluorescent lights nearly as well as his glasses a

couple inches below. His remaining hair clung to flakes of

psoriasis. Under her study he smiled mechanically, having

computed the appropriate response to her social cue of a

prolonged look. Shall we, er, take the tour then?

The doors in the back of the lab revealed an expansive

compound full of stainless steel surfaces.

Kitchen is fully equipped. Beware, though, the cleaning

crew will only do so many dishes in a day. And dont try

anything too fancy, these sprinklers are sensitive. She looked

up and noticed some peeling drywall tape from water damage above

the sprinkler. It seemed odd that the front room was so pristine

and this piece was left unmended. The storeroom is fully

stocked, no outside groceries allowed. All items are labeled

Tonks / Slowed / 9 with an RFID, so if you take more than a meal, youll be charged

for it. While it may have sounded like first hand knowledge, he

spoke more like a guide who had memorized the spiel for a campus

tour than someone who had experienced any of the concerns he

relayed to her.

She reeled in her college memories for a moment while he

droned on about what she could and could not do in her

dormitory. When he paused in his litany, she replied, Uh

huh, not aware of what she had just agreed with. She realized

as he opened the next door that she had missed most of his

directions.

Unlike the rest of the level, the next room was tiny,

Spartan, and a mess. The sight that met her removed, no,

replaced any concerns she had for the instructions with concerns

for her health. The squalid bedroom was rank with his body odor,

some potato-like scent she could only make assumptions about and

his foul laundry detritus. He reassured her that the cleaning

crew would take care of it that afternoon, but it was little

consolation. He closed the door a bit too quickly so that as

they returned to the lab she was still haunted by its presence.

She tried to listen through the rest of his explanations. He

explained the machinery, how it was all automated and that her

job, if anything malfunctioned, was to alert him and not, he

said the word not many times, try to fix it. He said each

Tonks / Slowed / 10 not so emphatically that his nostrils flared, his protuberant

eyes bulged a bit more and loose flakes sloughed off his scalp.

She imagined his pale translucent exoskeleton hidden under the

mattress in the squalid quarters from his recent molting.

Then he pulled out the large pair of blue gloves. These

are the only way you are to touch the patient when you exfoliate

and wash him. He is in an accelerated quantum vibration. Stasis.

If you touch him without the soft gloves, you will damage your

skin tissue and his, and the damage may go even deeper. Do you

understand?

Uh huh. She was staring off again.

#

The routine was simple and she settled into it fairly

quickly. However, even in the first days the novelty of the

fancy lab and large kitchen began to wear off. She then realized

that she could go all week without seeing another person. Her

phone couldnt call out from however deep they were and the

technician, apparently named Walt, at least according to Donna

on the cleaning crew, banned any electronic media.

Wiping the unconscious man down wasnt nearly as fun as it

had seemed in her head. She had to keep him fully submerged in

the gel. He was also unconscious, so it felt terribly wrong to

get any enjoyment out of his body. Plus she had to wear those

ridiculous blue clown paws.

Tonks / Slowed / 11 The weekend came none too soon. Meg left the lab and

greeted the outside world with verve. Even Monicas sarcasm

couldnt ruin her time above ground.

You dont exist anymore, you know that.

Im not like that, I can go through the routine and have

my own world happening in my head.

So it really is no different than out here!

Meg beaned her roommate with a throw pillow.

Hes got you at his beck and call, youre his gal Friday.

Hes got you totally dialed in. He managed to do this with less

attention, less pay, and less benefits than an exec. puts out to

sleep with his secretary, Meg was about to respond with a false

rebuttal when Monica cut her off, and with less work than any

of your old boyfriends ever put in. Which, while true, wasnt

saying much.

Monica was right, Meg realized. As she wiped off the gel on

week two and hung the gloves over the basin, she knew that she

had ceased to exist for her own purpose. This strange

unconscious and unknown man had consumed her existence and made

it a part of his. With less work than any of your old

boyfriends ever put in, rang in her head. Yet, by Tuesday that

was what she began to call him, her boyfriend.

Their relationship reminded her of all the men who had

reduced the meaning in her life to a focus on them. Time and

Tonks / Slowed / 12 again, with just a few major showy events she became no more

than an accoutrement to their lifestyle. One had swept her away

to Vail in a gesture that seemed romantic enough until he

pressed her to his side at the dinner party and whispered in her

ear. While she expected sultry promises of ensuing escapades,

she got instead a shushing--he actually said, Youre not here

for the conversation. Some of the assholes may even have been

rich enough to be in some other vat of stasis goo somewhere else

in the city while some other nurse scrogged them with their own

stupid gloves. Yet she forgave him. Somehow her current beau

always benefited from a litany of excuses and self-immolating

rationalizations.

By Wednesday she resented him for this. The fights they had

in her head grew more intense. Her fantasy relationship migrated

into her subconscious. She probably would have thought it was

early dementia and not just work-related stress if she had

remembered the dream properly.

She was wearing her favorite nylons, they were bright green

and fuchsia, like the swirled colors in a gasoline puddle. And

they swirled, too. But in the dream they were tiny. She pulled

them on anyway, and they tore, the tops tore right off of them

and she had sections of her favorite flashing tights running up

her legs. She stood up because she had to make the train, but

her dress didnt quite cover enough. She tried pulling it down,

Tonks / Slowed / 13 but it was embarrassingly short. Totally freaked out about her

rear showing, or worse, she ran through a door on the train

platform. It was a blue wooden door, like the front door to a

ground level London flat, with a crystal doorknob in the center.

The knob turned in her eager fist and she slipped in.

The room inside was soft and welcoming with low lamplight,

a red couch, and an equally red chez lounger. The lamps sported

fringes and the walls were lined with red patterned burbur.

Behind her, there was no door, just more burbur. A man lay on

the couch, half under a blanket, a linen suit wrinkled about him

with style. It was him. She looked down at her state of dress,

and was relieved to find a sleek beige dress that struck her

calf. She met the mans gaze. He looked at her with one thousand

ways of loving her in his eyes. Somehow, she wasnt offended,

she was concerned.

You seem weak, she said.

He spoke with a frog in his throat. I know. I cant say as

I think it is actually worth it.

Should I check the machines?

What is the point of waiting? Isnt it to live again?

I cant find them. Did you move them?

Why would a man wait to live, if he is put on earth when

he is. If I believe in love, then I believe in the destiny of

two people finding each other. If I believe in fate, then how

Tonks / Slowed / 14 can I put off my experience of life? I am waiting for what? The

sky to clear? The right nurse to come along?

She spun in the room, frantically searching for the lab

equipment. I cant find anything, what is this?

Will you forget it--you are in a dream. I dont know if it

is my dream or your dream. I suppose neither of us could tell

the other with any certainty that we exist, anyway, so here we

are. I apologize if I sound frustrated, its just--I know you

well from this. He waved his hand to indicate something much

larger than the room. Every time we have this conversation you

have to tell me the same

I know you.

Of course you know me.

No, I mean, I feel so comfortable near you, like I know

you. Except, you are him.

Listen, I know you think weve only just met, but, at

first we didnt know each other, then only you didnt know me.

Every time you wake up and we have to start all over, and every

time I do not wake up and so I wait for you.

If I know I am dreaming, why wont I wake up?

You will. It starts to unravel, you cant stay aware that

you are dreaming for long. Sometimes I pretend I am a part of

your dream, so that you wont wake up. He paused and looked up

from under a wrinkled brow, I hope that isnt out of line.

Tonks / Slowed / 15 It is strange. Kind of creepy, too.

I know, but it is difficult to show you what kind of man I

am, trapped in this room with only words for you.

Do we?

No. What do you take me for?

She considered this. So why are you here, what do you

want? She paused, Are you lonely? She took in the comfort of

his repose and noticed a space beside him perfectly sized for

her. She wanted to feel his warmth, to lie in the crook of his

arm on his silly Moroccan couch.

Theyve got me vibrating at light speed--it is so time

passes more slowly for me. Believe me, it is working. I had

hoped to survive the holocaust without getting much older, sleep

it out, you know, but I didnt know Id be dreaming the whole

time. If you remember, check my EKG and youll see REM cycles,

it seems like I am dreaming all the time.

She watched his mouth move. It seemed sad, like it needed

her.

You seem weak, I had said. She puzzled over the words.

Yes, you said that Ah! He pulled away the blanket and

stood, excitement brimming in his rheumy eyes. Do you see?

She spoke slowly, I said, You seem weak. If I knew you

seemed weak, then I must have known you somehow--but I couldnt

have known--

Tonks / Slowed / 16 That I was weak! His enthusiasm made them both

immediately aware of the irony in his words. They both chuckled.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and crinkled his face into

a smile. She stirred at the warmth of his touch. More calmly, he

finished her thought, --Unless you had seen me out of the lab

before! Yes, you found it! Theres always an inconsistency in

dreams. Do you remember the rest, our conversations? Anything?

No.

Well, its just the same, most of our talks are like this,

trying to get you to realize what you know. And then trying to

get you to remember this when you wake up. Does the phrase red

is green mean anything?

She tried to concentrate, but it was no use. No.

Fine. He seemed defeated and sank back into the couch. He

continued, more subdued, the excitement gone from his craggy

voice, When I see words written out, they are certain colors.

Its my brain. Oddly enough, the word red appears green to me,

so does green, but there is nothing odd about that. So I

thought that red is green might be enough of a trigger for you

to remember me, especially with this ridiculous decor.

How long has it been? How long have we been meeting like

this? The Marrakesh carpet began to unweave beneath them.

Invisible hands pulled the elaborate pattern with a zigzag

Tonks / Slowed / 17 motion that left a loose pile of rough yarn gathering on the

floor.

I dont know for you, but for me it has been too long. I

dont think I can keep it up. There wasnt a couch or a chair

anymore, so he stood again.

What can I do?

Just try to remember. I need you to remember. The walls

faded, revealing nothingness behind them, which was bright and

empty. It was too bright to look at, so she looked away,

covering her face and closing her eyes. Remember red is green

and with luck it will all come back.

She opened her eyes to ask, What will come back? Tell me

what it is now, while Im here! But when she opened her eyes to

see him, she had opened her eyes to wake up. There was no plush

room and there were no words in her head, just minute glimpses

of the soft red parlor. Or was it green?

#

When Walt arrived on Saturday morning, Meg was perched on a

stool, sitting on her feet, reading out loud from a Danielle

Steele novel. Her own hair fell around her shoulders much like

the swashbuckling hero depicted on the cover except that he

was bare-chested and muscle bound and she was neither of these.

He cant hear you. Which is probably for the best, given

your choice of reading material, Walt set in, prior to any

Tonks / Slowed / 18 greeting. His monotone greeting squelched any potential for

humor. Any sound that reaches his ears through the gel is

perceived as sped up too much for him to comprehend anyway.

I read slowly, she replied, a bit cheeky.

No doubt, said Walt. He waited to see if she accepted

this as a joke or an insult, but his lingering interest in her

reaction only made the whole situation, like most of Walts

communication, awkward.

She forced a smile and closed the book, inserting her

finger as a bookmark.

Who was the previous nurse? she asked.

What does it matter? Did something happen? asked Walt.

No, I could return her book, she wiggled it in the air.

I found it in the storeroom.

Walt looked at her intently, as though she had said

something impossible.

So Im off until Sunday night? She forced the

conversation toward her departure.

Were there any concerns or changes in the patient? Walt

replied.

All systems normal or whatever, nothing to report. So I

can go?

Tonks / Slowed / 19 Walt didnt even reply, his attention was now focused on

the screens. As he rolled through the weeks data, she slipped

out of the lab and into the hallway.

Once in the elevator, she peeked inside her book, but

instead of following the racy exploits, she looked at the finger

she had used as a bookmark. The blackened necrosis had crept

from the tip to her second knuckle. She slid it back into the

book and waited for the doors to open.

Paranoia is the most prevalent in people who have something

to hide. She was certain there were cameras in the elevator. She

was surprised there were no cameras in the lab, perhaps there

were, but she didnt find them. It was possible that there was

enough data to make a video recording redundant. Maybe previous

nurses had complained about being watched. She could only

imagine.

The doors slid open to an infinite view of herself hiding

amid pillars and checkerboards in a curious infinite world.

Welcome back, said the young security guard at the desk.

She realized that after a week of isolation, the boy looked

rather sharp in his maroon suit and insignia.

Tell me, who was the nurse before me? I found her book.

When he gave her the name, shrouded among many disclaimers

of the risk he was taking, the young man looked like he had done

Tonks / Slowed / 20 a good deed deserving some reward. She gave him a smile warm

enough to perpetuate his interest while promising nothing.

The whole drive home, she kept her finger in her lap,

driving one handed as much as she could. For the first time, she

wished she had one of the gCars. Meg dropped in on her

girlfriend without a knock, moving straight through the

apartment to the bathroom, saying simply, Like a racehorse!

Should have gone before I left.

Privacy finally found her quietly frightened in her own

mind. Her eyes darted around the tiny bathroom, pouring over the

mix of her things remaining cobbled in with her friends

toiletries. The room felt quiet. She ran the water then decided

to run hot water. She warmed her black finger in it and began to

massage the dying tissue.

Finding her face in the mirror, she said, Red is green,

then chuckled. She had known love. They had spent uncountable

hours talking about the meaning of success, the importance of

love and the weaknesses they both succumbed to over and over

again.

She would go back, of course. But she could not let them

see her finger. Walt would certainly get her fired. She didnt

think at the moment of the necrosis being a threat to anything

beyond her relationship.

Tonks / Slowed / 21 She had told him about her boyfriends and he had laughed at

her. She laughed now at the memory. He had asked if she had gone

through all the other requisite phases of girlhood, including

pink, purple, dance, horses, cameras and travel before she

started chasing assholes for boyfriends. Her focus returned to

her face in the mirror. She shut off the water and dried her

poor finger gently, found some ointment and a bandage and joined

her friend in the living room.

Ready to paint the town up then? Or you looking for a cup

a coffee first? Her roommate was undoubtedly a good time,

except when she was drunk and mad, then things got broken

quickly. Right now, she was too big for the T-shirt she had on.

Hearts and kittens squeezed her flesh out below and above the

limits of the shirt. Black sweatpants and a fist of coffee

completed her morning greeting. God, how they used to party, Meg

thought. She knew there were whole weekends lost in her confused

brain. Having been gone a week, she could see the toll it was

taking on her friend. She shook her head, Sorry, Monica, Ive

got to look up this girl first.

Bringing work home with you, I thought that was the point

of nursing? She eyed the bandage, Cut yourself on him, did

you?

Worse.

Tonks / Slowed / 22 Ah, crap, Meg, you cant love a guy whos literally always

asleep on you.

Turns out Ive been seeing him for months. Even though I

only first saw him last week. I dont know, maybe Im making it

all up. Hes smart, hes kind, he has all of his attention on

me.

Of course he has all of his attention on you, youre the

only one there.

Mon, thats so false, my other boyfriends paid more

attention to themselves, especially when I was the only one

there even when I was the only one talking. But he listens. He

ignores my words and hears what Im trying to say what Im

trying to mean, and responds to that.

Is he hot?

What? Well, yes, I mean, very. She blushed.

Of course, thats why you are gushing. Whats his wifes

name?

What?

Its nice that he listens to you, really, Meg, it is, but

once there are other women around Thats the problem with guys

who go for girls who look like you, theyll always go for girls

who look like you. I know because I get to watch it from a

distance while I wait for that insecure guy to embarrass himself

and throw himself at my mercy. You know what I think it is

Tonks / Slowed / 23 Meg didnt get to hear what her friend thought it was. She

bolted with her mug in one hand and her phone in the other.

Already dialing, her thumb found the digits of the other woman

who had worked in the lab as she shuffled through the dusty grey

ash piling on the sidewalk. She heard her thoughts say the

phrase, other woman and paused mid-hustle on the street to

laugh at herself. Flakes of ash lilted through the air,

revealing the chaotic currents around her building. She pulled

her jacket up around her mouth, pressed the phone to her ear,

shifted her hand over her mug and thanked God it was just ash

and not a mix with rain on her day off.

#

I thought he was pretty enough, but no, I dint have any

dreams about him. Sound like you are getting to feel it a bit

too much. Maybe I woulda felt it if he was more my type, you

know. Maybe if I dint have a man myself on the outside, maybe

if I want already used ta waitin for my time up. You know?

She nodded, this wasnt going to help, she realized the

moment she saw her. Not because of her jailhouse tattoos on her

neck, no it was the look in her eyes. When Meg had looked in the

mirror, she wasnt just sad, she was forlorn. And not just

confused, she was confounded. This woman had had many trials in

her life, probably some of them were quite painful, but none of

them had manifested the impossible.

Tonks / Slowed / 24 While planning how to gracefully extricate herself from the

conversation, Meg looked down at her hand. The blackness had

migrated from under the bandage onto the back of her hand. She

would have to have someone look at it.

What they doin you know, its illegal, what they do in

these underground labs. They bury them businessmen under their

businesses and surround them with lots of money so that the

medical authorities stay far far away. Why do you think they

hired us? I bet you dint finish your nursing degree, right?

Think about it, you know, they dont need you there, you touched

him, no ones going to help you. I seen it go all the way up and

she lose her arm before. Course, that was the first ones, some

of those guys in the goo, they wont never wake up. Could be

true with this guy too, you know.

As night drew near, Meg wondered if she would have the

dream again. She worried about her hand, now covered in black

bruising, but she worried she wouldnt see him even more. Why

did she touch him? Did she miss him? Did she think he would wake

up? Did she think he wanted her to? For all his talk, she was

convinced he was desperate for human contact, so she gave it to

him, but at what price? More gentle ash-flakes landed on her

shoulders and in her hair as she walked from the curb to the

golden building.

Tonks / Slowed / 25 The young man at the desk was alert and ready for more

banter with her, trying out a racy conversation opener from the

glossy Maxim barely hidden among his papers. She whisked by him,

though, Tell Walt Im headed down.

So now is when you tell me everything and I dont have you

fired because its too annoying to train someone new to NOT

TOUCH THE PATIENT. Walt was no longer awkward, he was livid.

But he held her hand in the big blue mitt in such a firm gentle

way, more like a vet than a doctor or nurse. He submerged it in

a small bowl of the scintillating jelly and stuck her multiple

times with a needle of the same stuff. This should absorb some

of the free vibration, reduce the rate of super-particle pair

annihilation happening in the nuclei of the atoms in your skin

and muscle tissue. It might not be too late for your body to

heal it, once the cascading is curtailed. He looked at her,

both annoyed and caring for a moment, Good thing you came to

me. Hospitals dont know anything. Now talk.

Ive been seeing him in my dreams.

Youre a grown woman, dreams arent reality.

They feel real. He told me we were destined to be

together, that he would rather be awake with me than asleep

through the holocaust. And I-- Walt graciously interrupted.

Do you hear what you are saying? Walt was both appalled

and intrigued, as if the human brain were breaking before him.

Tonks / Slowed / 26 He watched her the way an arctic explorer might watch a massive

glacier calve explosively into the sea.

How else would I know that he sees colors when he does

things, like when he writes. How would I know that?

Synesthesia? Well, thats one in ten these days, even

higher among executives, so no surprise if he is. Its about

like claiming he is left-handed proves something. Is he, by the

way?

Of course that shows something, and I dont know if hes

left-handed.

How about this. Would he pay to have his wife in stasis

too? Shes in another lab on another floor in this building. Why

would you pay to have your wife make it through with you unless

you were happy enough to be with her again when you woke up?

Theyll have spent most of their fortune getting to sleep

through the deadly gasses and constant ash falls that will age

us and damage our lungs. Not to mention that well just plain be

older anyway, because twenty or fifty or a hundred years has

passed.

So you believe me?

Not for a femtosecond, his voice cracked. This is most

interesting, though. You had a dream, so you stuck your finger

in a scientific apparatus, Walt continued, pretty stupid. You

are lucky he wasnt damaged by your non-hyper-vibrating tissue

Tonks / Slowed / 27 de-accelerating his atoms! Then you wouldnt just be bruised,

youd be fired and sued as well.

She thought about his wife. Could he visit her in his

constant dreaming state? Would he? She remembered something.

The EKG, can you tell if he is dreaming on the EKG?

Not exactly, but in a way, yes. He turned her hand over

and rubbed the scintillating gel into her joints. We never know

if someone is actually dreaming without self-reporting, which is

unreliable since they might not remember.

But he said things I couldnt have thought of. Im not

that smart. Walt raised his eyebrow in retort without saying

anything. She continued, I couldnt have dreamed him. Either

way, he was unhappy and wanted to be woken up.

So heres our choices, either you met our patient in your

dream and he asked you to wake him up or you didnt. Next,

either we act on your dream or we dont, Walt paused. Meg was

thankful for his exacting exercise of borderline autism. If you

are right and we wake him up, he will be thankful, but we will

have broken his contract and the company will sue us out of

existence. If you are wrong and we wake him up

So, what? Im supposed to just keep on dreaming romantic

getaways that cant have any point? she said.

Right, and you get to decide if its worth it to be the

mistress or not all up in your own psyche. And do whatever you

Tonks / Slowed / 28 need to in the dorm and away from the patient. Remember, you

have no idea how any of these machines or the gel work. If you

try to wake him up, you will definitely kill him. The subatomic

strings that make up every part of every atom in his body are in

a synchronized vibration through more dimensions than you can

imagine at light speed and in some ways faster. Her look

exhausted Walt so he rephrased it, He is moving really fast,

but back and forth so he stays in the tub. The gel is a buffer,

a coolant, and a lubricant. Overall the effect slows down how

time passes for him.

See, he told me that. Not that, with the strings, but that

he was slowed down, that hed been in my dream for a really long

time. How else could I know that? What if that has some long-

term psychological effect? What if he wakes up in a green and

healthy world totally depressed because of this and hes

reaching out to me, trying to get me to remember anyway he can,

including getting up in my psyche and making me like him?

Love him.

Okay, this is my night on, so you are volunteering by

being here, got it? And I think this is more interesting than

running all the weekly diagnostics, so I might entertain this

for a bit. Besides, Stephen Hawking was my hero, so Im a

positivist instead of a skeptic. Lets say you really met him --

find out his wifes name. Then that will also bring up the topic

Tonks / Slowed / 29 for you to discuss. And just to be sure you arent running me

up, you get to sleep right there tonight, on the examination

table. The table he pointed at was actually a stiff hospital

bed, laid flat. Relax, it was probably only ever used once,

when the patient was prepped for insertion.

You mean youre going to watch me sleep tonight?

Please, I will be done and out cold long before you settle

in. Walt went back to work, satisfied that the situation

couldnt possibly have gone from more unreasonable to more

logical under anyone elses guidance.

#

She stepped out of the lab, escaping the fluoride taste of

the air circulators, and instead of being in the tiled hallway,

she was outside. The city was gone. So were her shoes. The grass

poked between her toes and she played with the blades, until her

feet tickled too much. Looking up, she saw the sky. It was free

of the overcast volcanic pallor. The blue sky made her smile. It

was a brilliant color she had seen before, maybe, behind the

blue hid some deep violet vellum just beyond the visible

spectrum.

Had she forgotten something? Suddenly she felt cold and the

suns rays were brighter, but no longer warm. Her skin began to

blister and her teeth in the suns rays became brittle, then

fractured and shattered. She coughed and tried to spit the

Tonks / Slowed / 30 shards out of her mouth. A door appeared. It was the wooden blue

door with the crystal handle in the middle again. She ran

through it.

Outside of the room, she was only aware of one part of her

body at a time, like her foot or her face, and only its surface.

It was like she was made of masterfully painted paper, but

hollow underneath. In the room, she was more than whole and more

than filled. She could feel her tongue as it discovered that

each of her teeth was in tact. She felt her skin and looked at

her hands. Her skin was radiant, like it was when she was

younger. She smoothed her dress and sat on the velvety couch to

breath. Was she breathing? Did she need to breath? He was here,

of course, but she chose not to look up. Not to pinch out her

doubt.

Why do you look so pained? he said.

Because if I ask you something, you will either know the

answer or not know the answer.

I could choose not to answer.

It is better, isnt it? And even better if I dont ask.

Are you angry?

At you, no. Not at myself, either. Im too busy trying to

hold onto it. I suppose I knew, anyway.

The same way that you dont know this thing that you wont

ask?

Tonks / Slowed / 31 I guess it is like that, only the opposite. Well, the

converse, really.

Contra-positive?

Dont say that. That just reinforces the doubt. I need

some doubt, but it has to hide way in the back of this, or

Or the fantasy is revealed?

She looked up at him. His wrinkled beige suit had been

replaced by a crisp charcoal gray one, with a starched white

shirt underneath. Tieless and unbuttoned, it revealed his

collarbone. The conversation had already veered way off course

and she definitely wasnt steering. She balked, her heart in her

throat--he was handsome.

Do you like it? The suit? He provided a profile and a

slow spin. Of course you like it, I picked it out for you. Or

did you pick it out? Isnt that the question? Who chose my suit?

The Spanish would avoid it altogether and say it chose itself to

me.

You are teasing me, like a cat, she said.

Schrdingers cat? That was generations ago. That cats

definitely dead by now.

I like knowing and not knowing, please dont spoil it.

You should be the logical one, here. He let the silence

soak in the room. When he began again, it was with a very

different tone. Playfulness was gone from his voice, he spoke

Tonks / Slowed / 32 with darkness, Each time, you come through that door in

different phases of dreaming. I am here, always waiting. I have

never left this room. What if I go through that door? Did I

create this room? Are you visiting? Or am I? If I exit, does the

room disintegrate? Do I stop dreaming? Is that better? What if

you ask me your question and I dont know the answer?

You would know.

He moved from darkness to quiet disgust, Then ask it. You

threaten to spoil a very fragile relationship, how is that

different from spoiling it? A gun is of little use once fired.

You act like I know the truth and Im hiding it from you. What

if I dont know either?

She looked at him, I try to remember times we had in this

little room. I have momentary glimpses, but theyre not

satisfying because I dont think they ever happened, I think

they are memories I made up to preserve the dream. She pressed

herself to remember more clearly. She felt the memory of his

arching spine under her fingertips, his warm musky breath down

her breasts, his weight on her and the pressure of him inside

her. Her hands behind her head while he kissed her belly, her

thighs, the gentle reassuring scratch of his stubble, a lambs

wool. Had he lied or was she lying to herself?

What would I become when you wake up. When the convenience

is gone? she asked.

Tonks / Slowed / 33 Thats not the question you came to ask.

None of it makes sense. Her confusion darkened into

resolve.

If you believe that, then you should ask away, go ahead,

and if I am a construct of your fantasy, well find out, right?

If I only exist for you, then what kind of existence is that?

Yet it is an existence that you would snuff out all the same,

insidious because of its beauty. He was trembling, she couldnt

tell if it was from anger or fear. He looked into her eyes, You

are so cavalier with my death.

She rubbed her brow, pressed herself against him, then

said, I didnt want it to end like this. She paused, taking in

his suit, his eyes, his scent. Goodbye.

Goodbye? he posited, then a knowing crease crept across

his chin as she opened the blue door and left.

#

She didnt feel the electrodes on her forehead, but she

definitely felt Walts heavy looming gaze as she awoke. With her

eyes still closed, she muttered, You were watching me. You said

you wouldnt.

Yes, that was pretty convincing on my part. You dreamt.

Was he there?

She pulled off the EKGs electrodes and watched the wave

imaging go flat. Was he dreaming?

Tonks / Slowed / 34 Only one EKG, sorry, Walt replied. Did you ask him his

wifes name?

Meg paused for a moment. The muscles in her chin began to

tremble. She looked away and said, Yes.

And?

Avoiding his eyes, she told him her roommates name.

Hm, was all Walt said. His shoulders seemed to drop about

four inches and the wrinkles in his oversized forehead smoothed

over with ease. He stopped looking at her, checked the printouts

in his lap, including the biographical information, and then

said, Im not going through another hiring round, not after it

took that long to find someone, so Im not getting you fired and

you cant quit if you want any kind of reference. Not for a

month at least.

Equally deflated, she replied, Dont worry, Ill be here.

So you sorted things out, then? Or are you going to go

around sticking your finger in everything else thats dangerous

here?

Yeah, well be fine.

Good, because its Sunday and Im off.

She remained as stoic as a passenger at a dinner party in

Vail. Stoic and stolid, she staunched her tears until she was

sure he had left.

Tonks / Slowed / 35 END