Inter-dimensional: A Testimony of the Grim Reaper

The Pending Death of Doctor Polichek

Of all days to find out, this had to be the day! It's ironic, but perhaps quite fitting, that the origin of the pain which had eluded him all this time, and could be the lynchpin to all of  his theories regarding the living soul, shows up today!

All those years of searching — studying the Bible, reading Friedrich Nietzsche, and other great philosophers — and the answer was right there in front of him the whole time! Right in front of his nose! Literally!

To Doctor Polichek, the thoughts of ways to express this absurd finding verbally is almost hilarious, given the infinite phrases and colloquial misstatements, metaphors and cliches that can be used to describe the situation.

"Hahahaha! Damn!" That best describes his feelings right now.

He just didn't know it, but somehow, she must have known. That's why she came to see him. That's why she kissed him like that. She must have fucking known!

Medical doctors might attribute the feeling of heartache to heart palpitations or flutter brought on by the anticipation of something dreadful about to happen. Or they might even think it is caused by the build up of gas or methane compounds in the body, that usually induces pain in the upper gastrointestinal tract that can be measured but determined to resemble heart ache.

Others, like the doctor, now realizes, heart ache is merely a symptom of intense stress that can be triggered by emotion of losing a loved one, anxiety or sadness, and that painful feeling, that unmistakable ache inside, is right there underneath the heart — and there lays the embodiment of the human soul!

And to the doctor, that pain, which no one quite understands, is very important. The pain's origin is one reason he's reclining here in this laboratory chamber right now, inside a chamber of horrors that can expose the impeccable truth. Based on where this pain aches, to him, there's no question that it's coming from the human soul!

But his conclusions were wrong! Dead wrong! Now he understands. But it's too late now. Too fucking late!

"Wait!" He cried out again. "I made a mistake. I made a mistake! Wait! Wait! Wait!

But nobody can hear his screaming. It's  too late to stop what's about to happen. He's passed the point of no return.

"One-hundred-and-eighty-seconds to separation," the A.I. female voice continued in the countdown.

Once again, the hydraulics adjusted the bed, this time into a more laid-back position, and one of the four lead robotic arms slowly moved towards the doctor's head and stopped.

A blinking red light reveals intense computer sensors activity, as one of the robotic arms scans the back of his head, then carefully attaches itself to the circular metal head-rest that cradles the back of the doctor's head, which had been previously strapped securely into place and stabilized by two sets of halo screws.

"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...." he suddenly remembered part of a bible verse, but then stopped.

From the very beginning, the doctor knew he'd be giving up something very important, more important than his wife, more important than love, more important than his life, if the project were successful. His strange ideas based on intense and unphilanthropic interpretations of science, history, religion, mathematics, philosophy and logic led him down this unfortunate path.

But just what this path may lead to after Phase 1 is over, realistically, had not occurred to him — until this very moment! Finding his answer today is only part of the puzzle. The question is, what happens next?

And the possible answers hit him like a ton of bricks! For him, it's a terrible realization that has compounded his anxiety to the Nth Degree, and now, as seconds tick away toward an unknown destiny, the thought of what comes next is literally making him shit in his pants. It's frightening the living hell out of him!

"Aw, a-ha! Ahhh! Shit! Oh my God! Please! Please! My dear God! I didn't know... I didn't know!"

He squirms and yanks hard at the ankle ties holding his legs in place, and he flexes and stretches his body out, desperately struggling, wiggling, tugging and inflating his body by taking deep breaths and blowing air out, as a means to try to wiggle free from the restraints.

The doctor wants to stop everything now, but it's too late. Nobody can hear him scream. Nobody!

After all, it was his idea — his alone — to isolate himself from the rest of the staff, and to hide from the world during these first few moments of this highly-unusual, highly controversial procedure.

Even if he didn't find the answer he was looking for, where the soul lives, by now, he would be begging them to stop, if they could hear him. And his hesitation to continue, under normal circumstances, would have been a justified action for anyone else.

Indeed, everything would have been stopped, the idea scrapped, and the whole thing placed on hold for a few more weeks, and he'd probably go back to the drawing board — again. But he is The Doctor, the brains behind a new and radical idea that will change the world — and this is his third attempt at finishing this horrific experiment without backing up like a scared animal. But these are not normal days and he is no ordinary doctor.

Yet, he knows if he doesn't see this through, he would never forgive himself. And ultimately, he would keep trying over and over again until he finally got the nerve to see it all the way through to the end. So, why stop now? He'd just be prolonging the inevitable.

Now he's calmed down a little. But the recent turn of events changed his mind about some things. He's wrong. He's dead wrong!

Or is he really? Perhaps now that he's had time to think about it, had time to process all the information about those feelings he had after that passionate kiss Alice Eve landed on him, maybe there's still a chance of surviving this.

It could just be instinct, he rationalized. The reason he's hesitating is because all creatures are born with an instinct for self-preservation. Fear of the unknown is still fear, regardless of how it manifests itself.

But his fear is not your typical "shaking in your boots" fear. His fear goes much deeper than just the understanding of a normal person's reaction to the basic survival instinct, fight or flight in an attempt to evade physical harm and ultimately, death. His fear is a more intellectual realization, though the end result will be the same, and maybe to a greater degree of understanding than the basic instinct — it's a "pissing-in-your-pants" kind of fear.

Fear, alone, whether instinctual or intellectual should be enough to stop this, but when curiosity coupled with the determination to gain knowledge overcomes this basic emotion, it sets a dangerous precedent. The outcome could be fatal for him, but if that's what happens, either he miscalculated and he's just another dead man, or the end result could turn out to be something unexpected that's so unpredictably unfortunate that it could threaten all of mankind! That's the greater fear he's worried about. That's the "pissing-in-your-pants" kind of fear he's talking about!

"Two minutes to separation," the female voice announced. "Infusion Phase commencing."
The Doctor took another deep breath.
"Oh, Jesus!"

Hydraulics adjusted the bed once again, and the large, red robotic arm appears and dangles above his head again, scanning his body with a red laser light that maps out important landmarks that had been previously drawn on his backside and head as a guide.

The doctor feels two pricks in the back of his neck as the robot arm, complete with flanges resembling "fingers" positions a subcutaneous needle above him, inserts a port into his neck, and an intravenous line that infuses "electric blood" into his body. He feels an injection and immediately notices an odd, metallic taste in his mouth.

Shivering in fear now as he lay reclined naked and strapped onto the modified surgical bed, which covers his lower body and exposes the front chest area, the doctor is moaning once again.

His tongue is sticking out this time, and he is grossly slobbering. His tongue is elongated by the physical strain of his constant grunting and moaning, perhaps a physiological response to the mental anguish imposed by thoughts of what's about to happen.

He rolls his long tongue out again like a mad dog. Then, he bites down on it hard, and a disturbing image pops into his mind; one where he is biting down hard on a wooden stick inside his mouth as he struggles to endure the horrific pain. But it's his tongue, for gods-sake, not a piece of goddamn wood!

"Aaaaaaaaaah-eeeEEE!"