Chain of Being

By Jeff Bowles

Len stood in the space between the great beyond and exam room three of Wyoming's second smallest doctor's office. He smoothed the brim of his sombrero, fidgeted with his toga, took in the green walls and tongue depressors and cotton swabs. He let out a sigh. Martin would die today, and Len would watch it happen just as he had watched everything else. No other memories for him but his memories of Martin, no other purpose thus far than Martin himself. It must happen; it was the next step, the ascension. Len still fought to suppress a wave of remorse.

His wristwatch beeped. A pressure seized the small room, followed by a prolonged silence.

“I know you're here,” he said.

The silence continued.

Len's hand stretched through a pocket in space and pulled into the living realm a bodiless grey head with large, blank eyes and a crooked nose.

“Hi, Dave,” said Len.

The head, Dave, flashed his overly-pronounced teeth. “Alright, lad? Er, Len. Alright, Len?”

“I've been better. Would you like to explain why you're trying to hide?”

“Oh, not hiding,” said Dave. “I...well I ain't too sure about this. You said I was alive and that I went blind, but now I'm dead and a Homoncu-whatsits.”

“Homonculus.”

“Right, what you said. But all I remember is waking up in a weird place with tiled walls and purple horses and people with flowers for heads. I ‘spose I'm just a bit confused.”

“Confusion's normal.”

Dave flicked his gray tongue across his lips. “Yeah, but you sort of appeared in front of me all of a sudden in that weird place—”

“It's called the Link.”

“Link. Got it. You appeared in the Link—and me never seeing nothin' like that or a bloke in a toga and sombrero—and said I was assigned to you and that I had to follow you to a doctor's office in Wyoming to watch some geezer kick the bucket.”

“He's not some geezer,” said Len. “His name is Martin Crawford, and he's a good man. You're purpose right now is not to watch him die. You're just supposed to watch and learn.”

“Okay.”

“I'm ascending soon.”

“Right.”

“Most of the time, Homonculi get a nice, long training period, but when I ascend, so do you.”

“Uh huh.”

“You'll soon be a Palingesis.”

Dave's head drifted to the side. “And that's what you are now?”

“Yes.”

“And I have to learn as much as possible in Wyoming's second smallest doctor's office?”

“Exactly.”

“And why is it important that it's the second smallest?”

“You'll see.”

“...Do I have to wear a toga and sombrero? I sort of fancied the woman with the flower head. Could I be like that? I never looked good in hats.”

Len began to explain that his attire was irrelevant, but was interrupted as a frail old man in jeans and a heavy coat opened the door. He stepped into the room, slowly crossed to the exam table and placed a hospital gown on its leather surface.

“Who's that, then?” whispered Dave.

“This is Martin. You can speak up. He can't hear us.”

“Can't hear us? Can he see us?”

“Oh, hello,” said Martin. His eyes were fixed on both Len and Dave. “I see you've brought a friend with you this time. Odd looking fellow.”

“Em,” said Dave, “does he mean me? Do you mean me?”

Len shook his head. “Yes, he means you. And don't bother talking back.”

“Right,” said Dave, “can't hear us. Is he deaf?”

“He's hard of hearing, yes. But nobody in this realm can hear us.”

“Why?”

“It's just the way it is.”

Dave said, “Oh,” but Len knew he didn't really understand.

“I don't know where you boys come from,” said Martin, “but I'm glad to have the company. Though it would be nice if you wore normal clothes.” Martin chuckled and turned his back.

Dave cocked an eyebrow. “That's a good point. Why do you look like that?”

“What do you mean?” said Len.

“Why the toga and all? Why are you dressed as a Tijuanan philosopher while I look like a stone bust of Quasimodo?”

“You're asking why our appearances are so absurd?”

“Yeah, I ‘spose I am.”

“Then I ask you, why wouldn't we look like this?”

“...Fair enough. Hey, what's he doing?”

  Len glanced at Martin, who had removed his pants and unbuttoned his shirt. “He's changing into the gown.”

“Ain't he embarrassed?” said Dave. “I mean, we're right here.”

Len shook his head once more. “He thinks we aren't real.”

“Aren't real? Well, that's ridiculous...isn't it?”

“Yes.”

Martin, now wearing the gown, labored onto the table. He squinted his eyes to look around the room and began to whistle. Len smiled. He recognized the tune as a lullaby Martin's mother used to sing.

Dave's head drifted towards Len. “Why're his eyes all squinched up?”

“He's going blind.” melancholy flooded Len's voice. “That's why he can see us.”

“Hey, I went blind too...I think. Can all blind people see us?”

“He isn't blind yet. And no. Only the special ones can see us.”

“How's he gonna' die?”

Len sighed and rubbed his cheek. “Just watch, Dave. Listen and learn.”

A nurse soon entered the room and checked Martin's vitals. A tall, dark haired doctor followed, carrying Martin's file.

“Thank you,” the doctor said to the nurse. “I'll take it from here.”

“Can he see us?” said Dave.

Len shook his head.

Dave floated towards the large colorful nametag pinned to the doctor's coat. “Dr. Stuart. Why's the nametag got cartoon characters all over?”

“He's a family practitioner,” said Len. “Now listen.”

“Martin,” said Dr. Stuart, “you know you don't need to wear the gown.”

Martin smiled. “If I've learned anything in all my years, it's that you always end up in these things when you visit the doctor.”

“And I do love these visits, but you really need to see a specialist.”

“Specialists,” said Martin. “Give them a little piece of paper and a six figure salary and call them God.”

“I can sympathize, Martin, but I'm simply not equipped to handle such an advanced case of macular degeneration.”

“Bah. You went to medical school, right? You are a doctor, aren't you? You can treat me just as well as those hoity toities downtown. Besides, business is always so slow around here and I promised your mother I'd look after you.”

Dave's head drifted from side to side. “He's his uncle?”

“Yes,” said Len.

Dr. Stuart dropped Martin's file on the counter and lifted a prescription pad. He began to write. “I can give you yet another script for the Pegaptanib, but I still can't give you the injections. Please, go see a specialist.”

“I'll think about it,” said Martin, “but I'm not here about my eyes.”

“No?”

“No. What do you know about hallucinations?”

Len checked his watch. Almost time.

Dr. Stuart lifted his eyes from the notepad. “Hallucinations?”

“Yeah,” said Martin. “I started seeing things a few weeks ago. I know they're not real, but they keep popping up. Thought I might be bonkers at first. I wouldn't normally tell anyone, but you're family.”

“What are you seeing?” said Stuart.

Martin cocked his head. “Could you speak up?”

“I said what are you seeing?”

“Well, right now there's a nice young man in a sombrero.” Martin's eyes danced over Dave. “And a funny floating gargoyle head.”

“Hey,” said Dave, “he's talking about us.”

“Keep listening,” said Len.

Dr. Stuart brought a hand to his chin. “Gargoyle.”

“I know,” said Martin. “It sounds crazy.”

“Maybe not. Let me look into it.”

Stuart patted Martin's back and left the exam room.

“Hallucinations?” said Dave. “What, like we ain't real? We are real, right?”

“Yes,” said Len, “but Martin's nephew will call it Charles Bonnet Syndrome.”

“Charles who?”

“Bonnet,” replied Len. “It's the medical term for the Vision. The ability to see higher life forms like us. It's the first sign of ascension.”

Dave smiled. “Higher life forms like us. I like that.”

“Yeah, unfortunately, humans don't know anything about it.”

“That's funny. The doctor seems so smart.”

“Let me tell you, he wasn't so smart as a teenager.”

“How do you know?” said Dave.

Len smiled sourly. “Because I saw the damage to Martin's car after this brilliant doctor wrapped it around a tree trunk.”

Dr. Stuart returned, smiling. “Well, you aren't crazy.”

“That's a relief,” said Martin.

“It would appear you have Charles Bonnet Syndrome.”

“You were right,” said Dave. “But who's Charles Bonnet?”

Len adjusted his toga. “He was a naturalist and philosopher. Had these ideas about evolution. He said that disasters cause life forms to change into something higher than what they were. Plants become animals, animals become humans and so on. He called it the Chain of Being.”

“You know an awful lot about him. Did you attend his seminar or somethin'?”

Len shook his head in frustration. “No. He died a long time ago. It's my job to know all this, just like it will be yours.”

“Oh. That's all a bit dodgy, isn't it? Plants becoming animals?”

“Not as dodgy as you might think,” said Len. He returned focus to Martin and Dr. Stuart.

“So what are these things I'm seeing?” said Martin.

Stuart began to make notes in Martin's file. “As far as we know, the hallucinations occur because the brain compensates for lack of stimuli from the eyes. Loss of vision causes strange images to appear where none actually exist.”

“Don't actually exist?” said Dave. “We are hallucinations, after all?”

“No.” said Len.

“If I'm not real, then how am I talking? How can I see and think?”

“You're real, Dave.”

Dave's head began to flutter. “What if I'm nothing? Nothing at all? What if I ain't a Homoncu-whatsits? Maybe I never was alive and didn't go blind. Did I hallucinate that weird place? Am I hallucinating you? Can a hallucination hallucinate?”

“Dave.”

“What if Martin's a hallucination? What does that make me? A hallucination twice removed?”

Len put a hand over Dave's mouth and gripped his hair to steady him.

“Dave.”

Dave mumbled through Len's fingers.

“Calm down. You're real. I promise.” He motioned towards Martin and Dr. Stuart, who were now shaking hands. “It's time to go.”

Len removed his hand, while Dave blinked stupidly.

“Go?” said Dave, “You mean go, go?”

“Yes.”

“But I thought the geezer—I thought Martin was supposed to die here?”

Len's voice wavered. “Not here. Just come on.”

After Dr. Stuart had left the exam room, Martin changed back into his clothes and walked out the door. Len prompted Dave to follow. As they moved through the cramped halls of the doctor's office, Len fought to steady his nerves, to maintain some semblance of calm.

The three emerged into a darkened, winter swept wasteland of squat, rectangular buildings and an empty, snow compacted street. Len glanced at Dave to see the Homunculus still fluttering.

“Maybe Martin is the almighty's hallucination,” said Dave. “Or maybe the almighty is just asleep and dreaming all of creation...Nah, that's rubbish. God probably don't sleep, what with the choir of angels constantly singing and all that racket from Jesus playing drums to cause thunder and all.”

Martin stepped onto the street and began to trudge through the snow.

Len glanced at his wristwatch. “Dave, your training's almost over.”

“Huh? It is? But I didn't learn much.”

“You know about the Vision. I wish I could've taught you more. I really do.”

A pair of headlights appeared at the top of the street.

“That's alright, Len. What is it, some union cock-up?”

“Homonculi only get one instructor. There will only be one key individual for each stage of your evolution from now on. The others I trained had more time, but you'll learn as you go.”

Dave smiled. “That's a relief.”

“Remember how you asked why it's important that this doctor's office is Wyoming's second smallest?”

Martin's boot stuck in the snow; his foot came loose.

“Er, yeah.” Said Dave.

“It's important because the medical supply truck is always late. The driver delivers to the bigger office in town first.”

Martin cursed and squinted to find the boot.

“You don't say,” said Dave.

The lights drew closer.

Len swallowed and remained intent on his watch. “You never know when it'll arrive.”

Dave looked down the street. “Martin better move.”

Martin glanced up at Len. “Hey, you wouldn't mind giving me a hand here, would you?” He chuckled.

Dave's large eyes grew wide. “Why won't he get out of the way? Doesn't he see it?”

“No,” said Len, “he doesn't.”

Len's wristwatch beeped. A horn blared. Martin's head Jerked just as the truck's grill connected with his body. He was thrown free, sliding through the snow and ice and spinning to a stop as his shoulder slammed into a telephone pole.

A pure white light flooded the street. It fell over Len and Dave; it encapsulated Martin. A tear slid down Len's face, down until absorbed by his toga. Soon, the street and buildings and Truck disappeared, replaced by total white.

***

The bodiless grey head with large, blank eyes and a crooked nose blinked away the harsh light. He looked to see a long wall of multicolored mosaic tiles stretching far into the distance and high above. A team of purple horses strode by, ferrying a golden carriage towards the sparkling white castle on the horizon. Dragons and pink pterodactyls soared overhead, while rabbits and foxes had tea with a man dressed as Abraham Lincoln.

“Martin?”

The voice caused the head to swing around. He found a man in a leopard costume and a flower for a head staring down at a clipboard.

“Martin Crawford? That's your name, yeah?”

“Martin...I don't know.”

“It is. Trust me.”

Martin was unsure of the name. He was startlingly unsure of anything.

“Nice to meet you again, Martin. Right, my name's Dave and I'll be your instructor. I'm supposed to teach you about a chain of beans and a syndrome named after a philosopher. You'll be watching me watch my human.”

“... huh?”

“Em, well she's not really my human, see? She's her own human, I ‘spose. Tell you the truth, she's a bit boring. Just eats and sleeps and cries for her mum. Gotta' watch her for her whole long life, though.”

Martin blinked. He thought he might be hallucinating.

“All I've got is this watch that's supposed to count down to her key moments,” said Dave. “They tell me she'll get more interesting when she learns the word ‘mine'. Honestly, it seems like an awful lot of trouble just to learn about humans. But you have to do what you have to do, especially if you want to ascend. Now.” Dave looked over his clipboard. “It says here that I'm supposed to ask if you have any questions.”

Martin stuttered.

“Cat got your tongue? I completely understand. I was the same way. The bloke who trained me did a decent enough job, what with the time constraints and all. Wish I could ask him more, this being my first time, but he's an Angelic now and they don't come down here. Basically, you were old, you were blind, you died, and now you're a floating head. Ready to start?”

Dave checked his wristwatch and strode past Martin.

“Wait,” said Martin, “what is...why are...a floating head?”

“Yeah,” said Dave. “You know, a homoncu...lus. Try and keep up.”

Dave continued on. He slid a hand and seemed to tear a hole in space itself. Martin could think of nothing but to follow. The two moved through the hole, into the space between the great beyond and the nursery of a three week old baby girl.