Carl collected his thoughts and tried to convince both himself and Jordan. “Remember how Luke took over our minds when he first got here?”
“Technically, it was second, right after he killed Diana and you invited him in for a cup of tea,” Jordan replied, dryly.
“Yes,” Carl said, ignoring the sarcasm. Putting it all together, he asked, “What if he can do something like that in a surgical center?”
Jordan stood looking at him as if he were insane and finally said, “Right. But that’s the problem.”
“He has the ability to control minds, Jordan. How is that a problem?” Carl asked, puzzled at the suggestion of an obscure flaw in his plan.
Jordan gave Carl a disgusted look. “How does it help? Carl, he did some weird shit, but that doesn’t make him God. He can’t just take over someone’s mind and control their body like a puppet, and even if he could, if he takes over someone’s mind, then it’s him in their mind, and he isn’t a surgeon.”
Carl sighed, resigned to pessimism briefly. After a moment, he exclaimed, “But! But . . . what if Luke could modify the coerce thing he used on us to allow the surgical staff to use their own skills, while still maintaining control over the hacking?”
Jordan leaned back against the counter, folded his arms, and wondered about the limitations of his now supernormal world. This was certainly something to consider. “Yeahhhh.” He drawled, reluctantly, “Maybe we don’t know that it’ll work, but we also don’t know that it won’t. We need to talk to him. But Dammit, Carl, can we trust him?” Jordan replied incredulously. “Should we trust the guy who walked right in to murder you? Are you really that stupid?”
Carl looked straight into Jordan’s eyes. “No, Jordan, I’m that desperate. And at this point, Luke seems to be working on the life side of the equation, and all I’m saying is I want to find out if there’s an option that he has resources for. We have no idea what he can do, who he knows, and we’re a little short on alternatives.”
Jordan turned away and stared at the wall. “Huh. I really don’t like this, but there’s a least a trace of sense in it… I don’t know. I don’t like him. I don’t trust him. I don’t want him here again unless we have a guarantee he’s not going to attack either. But he does seem to have answers.”
They both stood in silence, the gravity of Carl’s failing health becoming more real with each passing moment.
* * *
Several hours later, Carl found Jordan in the kitchen, steaming chicken with a fragrant broth, and chewing on a thumbnail. He had spotted Carl through the evening workout, as always, and neither of them had said a word about the earlier conversation. They couldn’t afford to drop a single moment of the workout routine, no matter what else was going on. And maybe they wouldn’t need the transplant. But, even as it arose, Carl knew that was a ridiculous thought. Every indication was that Carl’s weight loss would resume, and pick up the pace, even if they were able to make some progress against it, even briefly. Maybe it would cure itself, but most likely not.
Carl paced back and forth for several minutes, then spoke, finally breaking the tension. "A bone marrow transplant could work, but there’s no guarantee, and death is a possibility. I’ll also be taking a graft that might be needed by someone else. On the upside, apparently, I would just need to be within an hour of the transplant center, not in a hospital for months."
"Okay. But doesn’t bone marrow replenish in the donor?" Jordan asked.
"Well, yes, but it takes time. More so even than blood, and the donor must take a lot of medications that are extremely exhausting, and then their immune system is depleted on top of that. It’s not a simple process.” Carl kept pacing.
“But people do it, and they survive,” Jordan said.
Carl frowned. “I suppose.”
“And people do sign up to be donors,” Jordan continued.
“For people with cancer,” Carl said, with consternation.
“For people who are going to die if they don’t get the transfusion,” Jordan said, with patience.
Carl shook his head again. “It’s not that simple—”
Jordan responded with frustration, “Then explain it to me.”
Carl paced back and forth several times before apparently realizing that really, it was that simple, when it came down to it and once the hacking was solved. “Okay, let’s say I manage to accept this. Where would we do it?”
It was Jordan’s turn to shake his head. Carl went on. “This takes a number of physicians and nurses, though it’s nothing as complicated as a liver transplant. Still, there will be tests, procedures, all that, and what if they test for the cancer while I’m under and realize I don’t have it, but I have something else they’ve never seen and they decide they want to look into it?”
Jordan closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the ceiling for a moment, then opened his eyes and looked at Carl. “I still think we can manage it. Luke had control of over ten people in the driveway when he took care of Diana.”
Carl felt his heart jump. It all depended on how the mind control worked. He tried to remember how much of his own thought had remained when Luke employed what he’d called the “prestige.” He paced back and forth, thinking. He certainly remembered that he was Carl, so he hadn’t been taken over completely. He felt alarmed, so he obviously still had his own emotional awareness.
“And how well do you trust Luke?” Carl stopped pacing and looked at him.
Jordan paced the small section of the floor Carl wasn’t already pacing. “I don’t, but I’m not going to watch you die without a fight. We have to do something!”
Carl stood for a moment, watching Jordan pacing back and forth. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Jordan pace. “Maybe so, but I think we should gather more information, see what other options might exist before we do something we might regret.” He watched Jordan continue to pace. “Jordan…”
Jordan stopped and looked up at Carl, but didn’t speak.
“You were very clear that you refused to have anything in the contract that said you’d protect me, but you protected me when Luke was here, and now you’re willing to go to extremes to ensure that I live. What are you doing?”
Feeling trapped, Jordan snapped back angrily, “It’s a choice, dammit! I’m not gonna let you die on my watch, not if I can help it. I can’t let you die! But it’s a choice. I watch your back because I choose to, not because I have to. And if you really piss me off, I can choose not to.”
Carl couldn’t think of anything to say. Jordan’s outburst covered a lot of ground, and Carl wasn’t sure how he felt about it, especially the last part.
Jordan mumbled, “I’m… I need to clear my head so we can maybe… think about some alternatives, like you said.” He headed toward the door. “I’m going to thaw some more… chicken?”
Carl just nodded, and watched Jordan walk through the doorway, listening to his feet hit the stairs as he went down to the basement, where there was a larger pantry. He walked into the hall, where he found himself pacing again. The rhythm of his own feet made contact with the floor in a one-two pattern, creating a rocking sensation in his body as his weight transferred back and forth, from one foot to the other, and it became a meditation of sorts, as always.
Jordan was, by nature, extreme in nearly everything he did. Extreme discipline, extreme privation, extremes of emotion, extreme privacy, so an extreme loyalty shouldn’t be so remarkable. Was it loyalty? Was he just taking his job seriously? Did he protect everyone? Would he protect a complete stranger? Yes, he was almost positive Jordan would protect a complete stranger.
He barely remembered when he first met Jordan, when they were freshmen, because Jordan was not at all remarkable then, really. He was swarthy with a dark complexion; olive skin and black hair and brows, and clearly poor, by the way he dressed, but so were many other kids at their high school, and many were darker. But as Jordan bulked up over the years, he became a staunch defender of the weak, and had no tolerance for bullying. Carl had often seen him with a black eye or bruises barely visible at the edges of his T-shirts. He'd been fighting, but not for himself; no one was foolish enough to take him on after he had developed a thick layer of muscles. But, every time he came upon a bully attacking a smaller kid, Jordan leaped in and crushed the bully. Luke was probably right; Jordan was, by nature, a loyal defender.
* * *
The following morning, Jordan stood close as Carl answered a knock at the door and Luke stepped through the doorway, in a normal fashion this time.
"Thanks for coming over," Carl said.
Luke looked at Jordan, who was standing in the hallway, as he stepped into the parlor. "There are things I will not say over a phone. I had several long talks with Mr. Tesla about freely communicating over a medium that is accessible by anyone, and he had far more faith in humanity than I have come to find. He admitted that surveillance could be performed, though, and I have been wary ever since.” Luke sat down on the sofa. “As usual, I don't have much time, but again, this seems important. Talk to me."
Carl shook his head. "Nikola Tesla?"
Luke crossed his ankles as he looked around at the ornate wall casings and oil paintings. "Of course. 2800 years of life affords one the option of meeting many people. He was doing some astounding things that were so far ahead of what others seemed capable of, I had to find out if he was a hybrid, or perhaps an alien." His eyes locked onto a silver Grecian statuette of a water nymph that sat on the end table next to him.
"Have you had conversations with every famous person that existed over the last two millennia?" Carl asked with astonishment.
Luke picked up the statuette and appraised it as he answered. "No, just the ones who were important to me. And a few I bumped into while talking to those people." He put the nymph down and looked up at Carl.
Jordan shook his head as he sat down in the wingback chair and scowled at Luke. "I think you're full of shit, and we can’t verify either way. I think there's a different explanation for this apparent mind control crap you pulled."
Luke gave him a thoughtful look. "Yes, you would. I think it really irritates you that I was the one in control as soon as I arrived. You have done a lot to maintain perfect control over everything in your life. Then I walk in, and not only can you not control me, I actually control you, which really annoys you." Luke was grinning, now.
Jordan scoffed. “Anyone would find you offensive."
Luke laughed quietly. "No, just those who pit themselves against me. I wish you would stop that."
"Not gonna happen!" Jordan replied.
Luke leaned toward Jordan, staring at him intensely. "What if I taught you how to do what I do, and you developed powers that equaled my own?"
Jordan seemed to be leaning away slightly. "That's just bullshit," he said, but there was a trace of doubt in his voice.
"We could make it your bullshit,” Luke answered with amusement. “Bullshit makes good earth, crops grow well in that medium."
Carl's head had been turning back and forth between Luke and Jordan as if he were watching a tennis match. "I thought you were saying we need to make this quick?"
Luke glanced at Carl. "I did. I am working on it. I told you this is important to me."
"This isn't what I called you about," Carl replied with exasperation.
Luke appeared to be surprised. "Oh, I am sorry, this is what I came here for. Well, quickly then, what is your problem?"
"I think I can cure myself with a bone marrow transplant, but I’d need your help."
Luke stood up and moved slowly to crouch in front of Carl, staring into his eyes with fascination. Jordan stood up quickly, and Carl motioned him to stay back.
"How would that work?" Luke asked curiously.
Carl answered, “That list you gave me; I reviewed the names, and none of these werewolf people on the list have blood type O-positive, as does 38 percent of the population. Right now, it looks like blood type is the most likely common denominator for people that don't survive." Carl started ticking off the next three sentences on his fingers. "That would be just about one in three that don't make it. The transfusion I got from Jordan made me healthy, temporarily. And you mentioned that those who don't make it can extend their lives by receiving blood."
"Consuming blood is what I said," Luke corrected him with distaste, but he still looked fascinated.
"Well, apparently receiving blood works as well,” Carl responded. “At least when it’s O-negative, like Jordan."
Luke turned a warm, curious gaze toward Jordan. "Okay, go on."
"If I get a bone marrow transplant from someone with O-negative blood, it can change my blood type,” Carl answered.
Luke stood up and walked in a slow circle around the room as he thought about it. "Hmmm. And if this works for you, we will also be able to fix the accidents that otherwise fail to survive, or become blood-sucking vermin. That would be a good thing. It also might appease our masters."
Jordan stepped in front of Luke so that Luke had to stop or turn to go around him. "You just execute these people who did nothing wrong but get bitten by an irresponsible freak? How do you live with yourself?"
“Wait, what masters?” Carl tried to say, but Luke was talking over him, sounding a bit frustrated.
"First of all, it is mercy,” Luke said forcefully, “because living like Carl has been living is too much suffering, and he is only in the early stages; it gets worse, and quickly. Becoming a vampire is even more horrific, and for more than just the diseased ones. But more importantly, it is the law, and if we do not abide by the law we will all be executed. That is what happened to nearly all the other hybrid races. We are down to lupanthrus, the werewolves, and piscanthrus, whom you know better as mermaids, and just a handful of other hybrid species. The bovanthrus – or minotaur, as you most likely know them – and so many others, they have all been exterminated. We will be as well if we do not obey the laws we were given. Fortunately, wolves are an obedient species, so it has been easier for us than the others, who had a harder time doing as they were told. We were also one of the last species created, and we were given more of the beneficial traits."
"And the… uh… fish people? They're obedient as well?" Jordan finally seemed to have heard something that made him more curious.
Luke laughed. "Hardly, but they live at the base of the ocean now, so they have fewer opportunities for a lapse in obedience."
Carl thought for a moment, and tried to ignore the information that wasn’t relevant to his problem. He latched on to what he’d heard that he needed. "So, you can go into someone's mind and erase their memories?"
"One of my many jobs, yes,” Luke answered, looking at Jordan.
"And we've witnessed your ability to control a person's mind well enough to incapacitate the person," Carl said.
"Yes," Luke said again, his eyes still measuring Jordan’s response.
Carl started pacing, staring at the floor as he spoke. "Can you make people do things, while they are still acting autonomously, using their knowledge and skills?"
"Yes, though such a task is not simple, especially when there is more than one person to control. Why?" Luke watched Carl curiously.
Carl frowned in concentration as he continued pacing. "I’m convinced that I need the transplant. I know you were able to handle Jordan and me both at the same time, but we were both still in possession of our thoughts. Can you take control of a surgical team at a surgical center, and get me a bone marrow transplant by doing so?"
Luke sat quietly for a moment. "Well, there is more than one way to do that with the type of skills I have, but it would probably involve a larger number of people than you have considered."
Carl lifted a hand and raised fingers one by one; "There's the surgeon and a couple of assisting nurses—"
"And the records, which requires identification and control of people with access to those records,” Luke interrupted impatiently. “This used to be so much easier, before the computer era. You humans have gotten way too far ahead of yourselves in the last fifty years. Deos, I am so sick of this endless job."
Jordan piped in quickly, "You mean you can handle all the computer end of this?"
Luke glanced at Jordan. "It can be done, with some effort. And with some risk.”
Needing more detail, Carl asked, “What risk, exactly?”
Luke replied, “Every time I go into a mind, I can only easily access surface level thoughts, and even then, there is a chance I will not exit cleanly, and that will scramble a brain. At a minimum, it causes amnesia. In some cases, complete, irreversible insanity. So, I avoid it unless I know the being is going to die anyway, or it is of critical importance.”
Carl stopped pacing. "Insanity? And this could happen to any, or even all, of the surgical team?"
"Yes. So, it is only done if it meets more important objectives. Which might apply to this situation. It could save countless lives that are currently ended because they are non-viable." Luke replied somberly, looking down at the carpet as he thought it through.
"So, this isn't just about me?" Carl asked, astonished.
Luke’s eyebrows lifted as he looked up at Carl. "Not at all. If it were just about you, you would be dead."
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Jordan swore, interrupting him.
Luke sighed, "Very little, unfortunately. Except that I am really fucking tired, and I really wish I could just retire. But back to the question at hand. Have you ruled out all other possible solutions?" Luke turned to Carl.
Carl paced. "We haven't had a lot of time to really brainstorm."
"Then let us do some brainstorming now and come to a conclusion,” Luke said. “If we are going to do it, sooner is better than later."