The neon sign at the motel was mostly burnt out; only the “vacancy” was lit, and even that flickered at times as if uncertain.
“I’m sorry for the accommodations, Professor,” Dorning said as he pulled into the pothole-strewn parking lot. “With your estate still in limbo, money’s rather tight right now.”
As they walked to the room, Marlowe noticed to his amusement that even though Dorning’s car wasn’t a new model, it was still far better than those of the other residents.
The room was more generous than the professor had expected, with twin beds, two large dressers, and a small desk. On one of the dressers were all his precious books and papers, stacked in a precarious heap.
The professor went to the dresser and patted a thick volume with his name on the cover. “My work,” he said. “Excellent. Before all that nasty business with the police, I was very close to completing something major I’ve left unfinished for years. Something truly wonderful. The solution finally occurred to me in a flash like they used to.”
Sitting on his bed taking off his shoes, Dorning froze, then slowly looked up at the professor in awe. “Why, Percival! That’s fantastic news! Why didn’t you tell me that before? That’s precisely what I meant about achievement, why you simply had to have the opportunity to continue your work. Think of how much this will mean to the scientific community to have Percival Marlowe in his prime again!”
The professor stepped away from the book. “Too bad it won’t mean much at all to Miguel’s parents.”
“Ah.” Dorning waved a hand. “When all our troubles are behind us, you can secretly provide for the boy’s family if you want since you’re soon to inherit the bulk of your own estate.” He finished taking off his shoes.
Marlowe half turned his head. “Now that I’ve met them, I wonder how they would react to what we’ve done to their son. Probably not well at all.”
“Oh I don’t know. They might grow to love having a brilliant astrophysicist in the family.”
“But I wouldn’t be their Miguel, even though I look just like him, right down to his fingerprints.” He looked at his hands. “It’s just not the same, don’t you see?”
Dorning shook his head and stood up. “No, I don’t. All I see is the shower, which I need to use right now. Then I’m going shopping for some much-needed groceries. The best thing you could do is organize your files so you can get back to work and finish that important paper. Sorry about the mess, Professor. If it’s any consolation, I need to reorganize my own research papers, too. I didn’t want to leave them behind where they might be found.” He nodded to the other dresser in the room, which had a more modest stack of books and files. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Professor,” he said, then grabbed a change of clothes, stepped into the washroom, and locked the door.
Percival half-heartedly shuffled a few of his books, then decided the tedious task could wait until sometime later. He heard the shower turn on and the shower curtain clatter along its rod.
A notebook on Dorning’s dresser caught his eye. The professor recognized it as the journal Dorning had started then abandoned. He went and picked it up, flipping through the few entries in Dorning’s cramped handwriting, then closed it and set it aside. A manila file folder caught his attention next. With the sound of the water still running in the shower, the professor opened the file for a quick look. The title page of the papers inside grabbed his interest and he began to read.
The professor felt his knees grow weak. “Oh, my God,” he said, and took the file over to the desk.
He sat down to read what he never would have thought, what he never suspected at all.
****
Dorning finished drying off, got dressed, and combed his hair. He felt refreshed now, his spirits lifted by the professor’s revelation about the nearly completed major new work. Humming faintly to himself he opened the bathroom door, expecting to see Marlowe busily rearranging the jumble of books or maybe even finishing what Dorning was sure would only be the first of many scientific breakthroughs.
Marlowe was standing by the desk, an empty folder in his hand. Papers were scattered across the floor.
The professor’s eyes flashed in anger.
Dorning stopped humming. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Your technique, Dorning. That’s what’s wrong. Your solution for ensuring complete and total memory transfer.”
Dorning took a sudden step forward then stopped, dismayed by the realization it was too late to intervene. “You shouldn’t be reading my personal files, Professor. Those are meant only for me. This is an invasion of my privacy.”
“I paid for that research for years, Dorning. I have a right to know where all my money went. Besides, you let me read all your other research except for this one little discovery, didn’t you? This ‘last piece of the puzzle’ as you called it.” He threw the empty folder down.
Dorning cleared his throat. “I didn’t see what good would come of you being prematurely aware of how I succeeded.”
“‘Prematurely?’ The deed is done, Doctor. When were you going to tell me? When were you going to let me know that in order to achieve your one-hundred-percent memory transfer, you had to invade my brain with your instruments while I was still alive and, in the process, kill me?”
“You were terminal, Percival. You know that. I couldn’t let critical memories be lost forever. The donor brain must be viable for as long as possible for full memory transfer to occur.”
“Murderer.”
“There was no other way! Time was running out! It was that or only partial success, which might as well be failure. It’s the only way I found to make the all the fragile memory proteins cooperate.”
“Killer.”
“Stop saying that! Stop claiming I acted improperly somehow. It’s the only procedure that works. I simply did what was best for you, the best I knew how.”
“The best for me? I could still be alive as myself, not living in a body you stole, Dorning. Stole!”
“I stole nothing. I’m telling you the boy’s sacrifice was absolutely worth it, the best thing he could have done with his miserable life. I would have even sacrificed myself for you if I could. Many people would have. I’m still convinced of that.”
“You’re not listening to me, Dorning. No one had to make a sacrifice. I wasn’t dead. With proper medical treatment, I might still be alive.”
“As what, Percival? As what? A shell of a man, fatigued all the time, rolling to and fro in your wheelchair, practically spoon-fed until you finally died? Is that your idea of being alive? Look at you now! You have enough energy and stamina again for answers to cosmic questions to spring into your mind instead of merely trying to remember if you took all your medicine in the morning. Which reality would you rather have, Professor? Which is better for humanity?”
They circled each other, inches apart, the professor’s head turned upward, eyes locked with the doctor’s.
“Your success—my life—doesn’t justify the means, Dorning. No one is so irreplaceable you can resort to euthanasia and then rob somebody—especially a child—of the right to live their own life, even if that life is impoverished.”
“You’re talking nonsense, Professor. Certainly in a perfect world we would all have the same opportunities to succeed but that isn’t how the world works I’m afraid. With his social status and lack of education the boy was going to amount to nothing. Now he can make all the difference.”
“Is that all that’s really important to you, Doctor? Achievements? Is that how you define a life worth living and one that’s not?”
“Yes! Whether it’s scientific work, or artistic, or as a leader of industry, what we accomplish is ultimately how we’re judged, how we’re remembered by others. A life without goals, without passion for some endeavor, is a wasted life. An empty life. Yes, not worth living.”
“You’re wrong, Dorning. A person who accomplishes nothing of material significance in their life yet who is kind to others and treats them fairly, who is loved and respected for just being a decent human being is the most successful person I can think of. That’s far more important than all the scientific discoveries ever made.”
Dorning blinked and stepped back. “You can’t really believe that, Professor. I know you too well. We’re kindred spirits, or at least we used to be. We would still be living in caves if any of that were true.”
The professor relaxed yet still regarded Dorning warily. “I would rather live in a cave, admired for my concern for others, than live in a world filled with high technology that values life as poorly as you do.”
Dorning looked away then finally replied with a hint of resentment in a smaller voice. “I valued your life enough to risk everything I had to save it, whether all my personal sacrifices on your behalf are appreciated or not.”
Marlowe’s hard gaze softened. “Dorning. I know your motives were noble, but how you finally succeeded was all wrong.”
Dorning bowed politely. “And with all due respect, I couldn’t possibly disagree more.”
They were both silent.
Dorning stood up straighter as if to restore his dignity. “Now. All that said, I must go to the store if we intend to eat tonight. Is there anything specific you want me to get you?’’ he tried to sound upbeat.
“Yes.” The professor stared, eyes cold. “I want my soul.”
Dorning took a deep breath. “Very funny, Professor. I’ll be back in about an hour.” He headed for the door then stopped and turned around again. “I hope our disagreement won’t stop you from finishing your important paper, will it? If so, then everything I’ve fought so hard to accomplish would amount to absolutely nothing. It will have all gone to waste.”
Marlowe looked towards his dresser. “No, Doctor. I’ll finish the paper. It won’t take long to complete.”
Dorning looked pleased. “Good! I look forward to reading it even though I’m sure I won’t quite understand it. See you in a while, Professor.” Dorning left the room.
Marlowe sighed deeply and rubbed his face. He decided to take a shower, too, and freshen up.
He kicked off his shoes and started to pull off his shirt when he realized there was something in the chest pocket. He pulled out a folded sheet of paper, opened it and began to read the sprawling print.
Profesor-
If you are reading this than I am no longr Miguel. I just want you to know that I would like to have my life back if I could, all the time. I am sorry for you but I did not know I would have to be forgottn in order for you to live again. That is not fair at all. I know you are very smart and can do a lot for the world but I think if I go back to school and work hard I can help the world to, as Miguel. I know you are a nice man becase I lived with you awil. We had fun. If you can bring me back my mother and I and maybe evn my father could be a famly again. I hope you can do this because my mother missis me when I am you. Do not listen to the doctor abot this becase he didnt tell me the truthe, he is meen. Maybe he didnt tell you the truthe to. If you cant bring me back than Im sorry to bothr you with this letter but I hope you can becase I want to live again, that is all.
Your yung friend, Miguel Sanchez
The professor sat down heavily on his bed and slowly bowed his head. When he finally raised it, his eyes were rimmed with profound regret.
“I’m so very, very sorry, Miguel,” he said fervently, ruefully. “Can you ever forgive me for what we’ve done to you?”
There was only the usual, now completely unbearable silence.
“Enough of this,” he said, and his eyes flashed with renewed purpose and resolve. He immediately went to his books and papers and began to organize the pile, knowing he didn’t have much time before Dorning returned.