Right now, I - the once most celebrated medico - Dr Ajit Joshi - am sitting in a nondescript run down motel, writing my journal, hoping that this won't be the last page. I have been hiding for the last 39 days.
Hiding from my past.
I have spent a good part of my life fiercely chasing something bizarre. My dark realization from years of medical research revolves around the treacheries of the human body which are perhaps the origins of cannibalism. Rogue cells can ambush you. Defence systems give up on you without warning. Lives are born like ticking time bombs. It's excruciating.
My research was not for any medals or recognition. It was more vengeful towards neurotic ailments, an obsession fired by the death of my first love, my only soulmate. She died of spinal muscular atrophy. I didn't even know what it meant — till she died in less than 2 months after being diagnosed. We were in pre med then.
The void caused me to ask uncomfortable questions. The kind that no book could ever answer. I was more furious than passionate in breaking through the limiting gates of medical knowledge.
After more than 18 years of relentless research on degenerative neurosystems and protein modification theory I had got my breakthrough.
I had isolated X-12-alpha — an enzyme that could alter target proteins and not only halt but also reverse synaptic decay. I used it on mice with induced Alzheimer's, induced Parkinson’s, and other induced nervous atrophy variations. In just 24 hours the mice not just bounced back, but solved mazes and worked out logical decisions. Their brains evolved so much so fast that they burnt themselves out in less than a 100 hours.
It wasn't supposed to eat itself up so early. I needed bigger, more complex, more evolved subjects.
My erstwhile student and now research assistant Dr Mrinmayee asked me to relax a bit.
"You need to just slow down, Boss. Why don't you take an off, live some life, smell a few roses and come back. I am sure you would crack this. Give it some time."
She had that look in her eyes — admiration laced with worry. She was the only one who knew about Maya - and her pic in my wallet, and the only one who knew my obsession - that others called passion. She tried to make me more human.
But I had no time to be human. I doubted whether I even wanted to be human. It seemed that I was standing at the last door on the human-divine frontier. I had the key in my hand. But it just needed some more cuts. And then that would be it. I would have broken through the final gate.
I just needed a more complicated being than a guinea pig.
But there is this one unbreakable rule in clinical research - Never test on humans without full data from baser life forms.
A protocol clearance. No exceptions.
But obsession can always get the better of ethics. I guess most people follow rules because they are not obsessed enough with their pursuits and if they are, they don't get an opportunity.
For me the opportunity came in the form of Colonel Arjun Bhargava. A 36-year-old army officer. Wounded in a terrorist ambush. Severe brain hemorrhage case. Fast failing organs. Comatose. Most doctors said it was just a formality to keep him breathing till his family came in.
I differed.
Unknown to anyone, I injected a microdose of X-12alpha. In a few hours his sinking velocity reduced. I added a few microdoses in the next few hours.
On day three he regained consciousness. On day fourteen his brain was as sharp as an owl. On day seventeen he was discharged and moved to an assisted living facility for full recovery.
I knew I had crossed the line. But I was enthralled. I had done it. And now I just needed to prove with more test cases.
Dr Mrinmayee watched me carefully all the time, but did not say anything. I suspected she knew but had no evidence. And the result mattered. The outcome was good.
Or so it seemed.
On day twenty four, the Colonel vanished.
The CCTV footage was corrupted. His attending nurse or wardboys seemed to know nothing. The Colonel apparently knew his stuff too well. He had escaped without the slightest of clues.
That’s when Dr Mrinmayee finally confronted me.
“You tested it, didn’t you?”
I said nothing. But my silence told her the truth anyways.
“You broke the one rule, Dr Joshi.”
“I saved him.”
She whispered. “What if you haven’t? It was too potent.”
Four days after that were uneventful. I quietly administered a diluted variation in even smaller doses to a few more patients. I was careful to fly under the radar and not be noticed by Dr Mrinmayee.
Then on the fifth day some geek from the dark net, apparently one who the military often used, restored the CCTV footage and leaked it.
It showed Col Arjun — His face was all flushed, eyes bright and wide. He was frantically working with a pen and a piece of paper. The math on the paper, the diagrams, looked familiar, but not completely comprehendible to me. It seemed far more advanced. Then he spoke to someone off-camera. And he used my name.
“Dr. Joshi says, life is an infinite loop. There should never be an end. Looks like it is possible. But the consequences will be deadly.”
“It is. And why would the consequences be deadly?” It sounded like a known voice.
“The final outcome of an infinite loop of life is beyond Dr Joshi to comprehend. He hasn’t evolved yet!” and he laughed.
“And have you figured it out already?”
“I have. And I don't like it. Life cannot be an infinite loop.” He said, continuing with his paper work.
“Anyways, what are you doing right now?”
“Writing the alternative future… There we go.”
The camera went blank.
The footage went viral in no time. Media started hounding me. I received emails with all sorts of messages, mostly demonizing me.
Meanwhile some more patients from my hidden trials began experiencing grotesque hallucinations. They all shared the same visions of a strange tragic looking lifeless future.
I tried contacting Dr Mrinmayee. She had disappeared.
Back home, I found a note in my wallet. It was in her handwriting.
“The protein isn't fixing the brain — it’s replacing it. And multiplying. All proteins do. Rogue ones become viruses. Run.”
That's when I packed my bag and went underground. 39 days ago. Moving with stealth from town to town, lying low in shanty towns and run down motels.
As I am writing this now, I am scared.
I think these patients’ brains have evolved beyond any one’s control. They know things from the future and apparently they don't like it. Col Arjun wanted to alter the future.
Logically, to alter the course of the future, he would stop this discovery. That will mean stopping me.
—------
As I finish this last line in the journal, my phone beeps.
It is a voice mail. From an unknown number.
It is Dr Mrinmayee’s voice.
“They’re not patients anymore, Doc. They’ve found a method to transmit remotely. You didn’t just break a rule… you uncorked the genie…One who will not listen to you. They got to me through my bluetooth. They will find a way to get to you too.”
Right now, there’s a buzzing in my head. It started just now while listening to the voice mail. It is like a soft static — like a radio signal searching for the right frequency. Was the enzyme modified and transmitted through sound waves? Could his brain have evolved to that extent?
The buzzing is growing more intensive with every single pulse throb.
I can almost see the Colonel, smiling like he knows how it ends.
React
