The Find

He was a young fellow, nothing out of the ordinary, lazily brushing time off his five-year stretch.  His name…?  Nobody knew his name - nobody cared.  He was one of those guys who didn’t care much for prison affairs, wasn’t an addict, but didn’t miss an opportunity either.

Bored, as always, he was roaming the labyrinth of prison corridors, close to the wall, out of the main traffic, head down, when something on the ground caught his eye. Stealthily he picked it up and slipped it in his pocket.

 Doing a full circle, he came back to his cell to examine the find.  It was a tablet.  He couldn’t tell what it was for; it had obviously been in someone’s possession for some time because its edges were worn.  Hoping that it was someone’s lost little treasure, he popped it into his mouth and lay on the bed, waiting.

Some time later, a guard caught his attention. 

‘Aren’t you going to eat?’

He wanted to answer, but couldn’t.

‘D’you hear me, boy ?  Go get your dinner!’  Still no answer.

‘We have a one…..o….six here, get the medic!’

He could see the guard, he could hear him, but he couldn’t move a muscle.  Shortly after he passed out………

After much muffled noise, tumbling and passing lights, he hears a sound: ‘Peep…peep…peep…’

 It was becoming louder and louder.  Through his still-open eyes bright light started to merge into colours, shapes and images.  He was staring at the ugly green ceiling of the hospital wing, his view partially obstructed by the oxygen mask.

‘Oh my God, where am I, what’s happening to me?’ a voice sounded loud and clear inside his head.

‘I can’t move a muscle; I can’t even close my eyes.  What kind of crap did I take?  Somebody tell me what’s going on!’

He hears voices in the hall, and tries to make them out as they get closer.  The door opens, and two men walk in, a doctor and what sounds like some prison official, still continuing their conversation as they close the door behind them.

   ‘And this allergic reaction induced a very powerful pressure which resulted in the loss of all voluntary body functions.’ 

  ‘In other words, his circuits are fried, but is he going to live?’

  ‘Yes, but I’m afraid that he will be capable of nothing else for as long as he lives.’ 

  Peep, peep, peep, peep, the life support machine indicates a quickly rising heart rate.

  ‘Is something wrong doctor?’

The doctor quickly produces a small torch from his pocket and points a sharp beam of light into the eyes of his patient.

‘Awake, are we?’

‘Is he conscious?’

‘Appears so. That’s highly unusual in the circumstances.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are a lot of tests that need to be done.’

 They leave the room.

‘What!  I can’t believe what he just said!  Where did they go, why did they leave me on my own here?’

He tries to scream but without success.  Panic takes over.

‘This is not happening… no… not to me, I refuse!  I refuse to accept this, I don’t want to be alone here. Will someone tell me what is happening to me?  Please!  No, not now, I’m not gonna live like this, I’m gonna take my own life!  No… no.  What am I saying, how am I going to do that if I can’t even feel my body, can’t even close my eyes. I’m trapped… Somebody!’

 The heart rate starts racing again and the life support machine sets off the alarm.  Nurse comes rushing in and pierces his arm with a swift injection.  She watches as her patient’s pulse starts to ease and he slowly drifts into sleep.

 A short while later he starts to come round.  Medication seems to be doing its job.  He is feeling calm and concentrated; his voice sounds as loud and clear as before.  In the little world inside his head he tries to assess the situation.

‘Well, let’s face it – I’m trapped, I can’t kill myself and, as that good doctor said, I am likely to stay this way.  I may as well start to get used to the idea of living in the world of thought, cause that’s basically what I’ve become - a thought.  I need to seek ways to occupy my mind, become more spiritual maybe…, contemplate the world?  Yeah, sounds good, but my head feels so empty, I know virtually nothing about the world; all my memories are about drugs, jail-terms and a bunch of other stuff that I would rather forget.  Not that it matters, but I think this would be the time to think about where I went wrong.  I know that this tablet was some freak accident, unlucky at best, but there’s no denying that my outlook and lifestyle are big contributors as well to this mess that I find myself in.

 I always wanted to do something constructive with my life, but I guess I didn’t have the will, the determination to…  How stupid it all sounds to me now!  Free will is a strange thing.  Free will is the ability to do and think the things that I choose to do and think, isn’t it?  It’s the core value that we, as human beings, so proudly possess.  It all seems so strange to me now…… but just yesterday I could control my body by merely thinking about it.  I could raise my arm, walk or pick up a book at the exact time of my choosing, and do a thousand other things if I so decided, just as easily as I am able to think about them now.  Why did I have to end up in such a hopeless situation to realize such a simple truth?  ……..  I knew I had it….. I knew I had free will….. I just never looked at it in this way before.  Until recently, like a loyal servant, my body would materialize my thoughts.  I thought something - it did it -

instantaneously - no questions asked.

 Yeah, but there was something else, then.

 I made choices all the time going through daily life; some were significant, some not, and I could have predicted the consequences of most of them.  It’s pretty simple really: yes or no, good or bad choice.  To pick up that stupid thing from the ground, for example, and put it into my mouth, was a bad choice - a ‘no’ choice.  I was so used to taking the easy option all the time and diminishing the little voice of reason with a bunch of excuses, that there was nothing left to diminish anymore…….

  Well, I’m just human, I can’t be expected to make the right choices all the time.  Yeah… but I could have if I wanted to - most of the time anyway.  But, I guess, there’s no point in thinking about it now, is there?’ #

Suddenly he hears the jingling sound of keys. He opens his eyes to find himself in his bed, in exactly the same position as when he waited for the pill to kick in.  He gets up, starts jumping and shouting (unable to contain his joy) waving his hands in the air.  Caching his reflection in the mirror, he freezes.

  Motionless, for about ten minutes he stares at his image.  Then, with a slow, twisting motion, he raises his hand - carefully observing it.

 Suddenly, as if remembering something, he leaves his cell with a lively step to get some air.

 He is smiling, no longer looking at the floor.

J. A.   ( Maghaberry)