Betsy's Blog Post

 Everything Is: Chapter One

“What would you do if I told you you’d been granted a thought?”

The doctor stares at the patient, beaming as if this sentence is cause for celebration. The patient blankly gazes at her.

“Let me rephrase that,” the doctor tries again. “If you could think anything, anything in the whole wide world, what would it be?” It is a stupid question, but the doctors does not and cannot understand this.

“Grey…” the patient trails off, their voice barely a whisper. Grey is the color of their mind; they know no alternative.

“Well buckle up your seat belt, GH47, because boy do I have news for you: Due to a generous benefactor, a thought has been gifted to you!” The doctor is expectant, as if at any moment the patient will jump out of their seat and give her a hug. She has not had this job for long enough to realize there will be no reaction. 

The doctor slides a small, black box across the table, a box that contains the single most valuable item to a commoner. As there is no permission to be granted, the doctor simply rises from her chair, sliding a metal knife off its holder on the wall. Brandishing it, she begins to cut through the scars that halo GH47’s head, at last flipping the top half of the patient’s head to the side and exposing their brain.

Neither doctor nor patient blinks an eye; the doctor because this operation is one of the first taught in medical school and has over time become second nature, and the patient because they have no thoughts on this, nor any other matter. Now, the doctor removes a small needle from within the black box, nestling it with care, and injects it into the patient’s brain. Now, she seals the patient’s head back up, smiling to herself.

The doctor walks hastily to the office door, wanting to give the patient privacy. "Well, I’ll leave you to it, GH47,” she says, already turning away. “And, by the way, my name is Martha.” She disappears from sight.

GH47’s eyes are beginning to widen. Since birth, their brain has been used for nothing more than observation. This… is new.

Everything is bright. Colors surround me. Power is flowing through my bloodstream. I see the office in front of me. I see more. I am underwater. A wave is crashing against the sand. A bubble is rising to the surface.

Why isn’t it like this always?

And with that, GH47’s eyes go blank and their mind is washed in grey, left with no more than a hollow emptiness in their soul.