Voices
by Joshua Scribner

“So, Doctor Trover, what brings you back to my office?” asked Doctor Leslie Hayward, Licensed Psychiatrist.

She had met Doctor Trover at the beginning of the project. Now, the middle-aged scientist she had assessed to be perfectly sane sat with his hands folded in front of him and said, “The voices in my head told me to come.”

Doctor Hayward had met with many people who reported having auditory hallucinations, but never one so intelligent or so important to international security. In the outside world, her loyalty had always remained with the patient. In this office, with this job, her loyalty would be with the safety of a nation. She would fill the higher ups in on Doctor Trover’s symptoms, and he would be pulled from the project, but first, she wanted to understand his condition more.

“What else do the voices say?”

He smiled. “They say we have to stop the project.”

“Oh really?”

At this point, Doctor Trover would be more than pulled from the project. He would probably be under surveillance for the rest of his life. She was about to start the process of committing the dangerous scientist, when he stood up and opened his lab coat. He was shirtless and bleeding.

He pulled a scalpel from his stomach and let it drop to the floor. From what she could see through the mess of blood, he had made about a nine-inch incision.

“I was holding it there when I came in, and I just now cut myself.”

Doctor Hayward reached for her phone, but Trover was quickly across the floor and snatched up her wrist.

“Just watch,” he said.

He had her wrist in a strong grip. She was not a physical being; words and body language were her weapons. To appease him, she looked at the wound. She was stunned at what she saw. The cut sealed itself right before her eyes. He let her wrist go and returned to his chair.

“I’ve seen a lot of madness in my fifteen years as a psychiatrist. I have no idea how to explain what you just showed me.”

“I just wanted to get your attention.”

Her heart was pitter-pattering like a two-year-old child’s steps. She felt a little faint. She still found a smirk to give.

“It’s safe to say you have it. Fire away.”

The scientist closed his lab coat and then straightened up in his seat. He looked confident, even more confident than what she would expect of a man with his outstanding credentials.

“Last night, I fell ill and went to bed early. Exhausted and very hot, I think I more passed out than went to sleep. Within an hour, I awoke feeling fine. In fact, I felt better than I ever have. I started to get up and look for something productive to do, when the voices came.”

He paused and looked at her as if to ask if she was still buying it.

“Please, go on.”

He nodded and then said, “The voices called themselves an infection. They said they had come to me via mosquito, spread throughout the cells of my body, and taken over. As you have seen, they make my cells do extraordinary things.”

“Is that how they talk to you?” she asked.

“Yes, very astute. When they need me to hear them, they merely cause the right neural cells to fire.”

Doctor Hayward took a few seconds to gather her next inquiries. “Okay. So why have they come to you, and why have they sent you to me?”

“Good questions. They came to me because I can help sabotage the project from the inside. They sent me to you because every person placed on this project must first be assessed by you. They want to use you to install a subconscious need to sabotage the project in all comers.”

Dr. Hayward took a few seconds to think, and then asked, “Well, why do they need me to do that? Why not just infect those people?”

“They don’t like infecting people. They consider it way more invasive than simple psychological tricks. They even asked me permission to stay in my mind?”

She thought more and then said, “I guess that’s why they didn’t just come into my head, but curiously, why did they come first to you?”

He nodded as if to say her question apt and then said, “I had my reservations about the project. I was kind of on the fence, which meant I was close to their line of thinking anyway.”

“Well, what is their line of thinking? I mean, what you guys are doing is setting up a missile defense system.”

“And a very impregnable one at that. It would make this nation invulnerable to missile attack of any kind. The potential problem is one philosophers and scientists have speculated on but this infection has calculated as an extreme probability.”

“You mean that a strong sense of security may cause the nation to exert its will more aggressively.”

“Yes, that’s one way of describing it, but more specifically, the infection thinks nuclear destruction of the better part of the outside would be imminent.”

This time, Doctor Hayward thought for a couple of minutes before speaking. “Well, I guess an intelligence that can invade and take over the cells of a body is probably able to forecast the future. I’m in, but I’m not sure how effective I can be. I suppose I could use cognitive dissonance on the people who pass through my office.”

The scientist laughed and then said. “I’m sorry, Doctor. It’s just that it’s not your skills the infection is after. It wants your reputation and position. Once in you, they’ll say the right words to people.”

She nodded, not sure she was ready to commit, though.

“You’ll not suffer from the infection being in you. In fact, you’ll be greatly enhanced. They can even slow the aging process. I mean, you’re beautiful now, but in another ten years or so . . .”

He stopped speaking and seemed to be listening to something in his head.

“They’ve asked that I stop trying to persuade you. They said you can make the decision on your own accord.”

She took another couple of minutes before speaking again.

“Well, I guess the future of the planet depends on it. I’m sold.”

The scientist nodded and got up.

“What are you doing?”

“That depends,” he said. “We can either have sex or I can just bite you.”