What Memory Remains

“What seems to be the problem, Dr. Monroe?” Sade asked as she led him down the hall.

“I really need you to speak with Zenapharr. He’s…having issues.” she said solemnly. “He talking about wanting to die, and I don’t know how to get through to him. I thought maybe you could talk to him since you’re an old friend of his. Maybe you could console him in some way or calm him down.”

“Has he been doing anything strange? Did he hurt someone?”

“He didn’t hurt anyone, but he’s acting strange, talking about death like it’s the only answer. It’s better to see it for yourself. Also, he confessed there to be a voice in his head that speaks to him, which seems to be what encourages him to kill. At first, I thought his realization of this could lead to progress. Yet, his objective of exonerating himself by doing this has only made him more guilt-stricken. He’s much sicker than we originally thought. I think he’s emotionally overwhelmed after suppressing his emotion for so long…maybe some companionship would help.”

“Of course, doctor. Anything to help.”

“Would it be too strange…with your falling out and everything?”

“We should be fine. It was a long time ago. Perhaps burying the hatchet is just what we need.”

As she escorted him through the hospital-white corridors of the facility, Sade ran his hands over his dark stubble as he made his way through. He was a normally a man of a debonair look, all topped off with shoulder-length brown hair and a handsome crooked smile. Yet today, his expression was tight and unnerved, knowing he would be talking to the very serial killer he apprehended. Zenapharr’s emotional instability alone was a factor for concern, and had some additional things going on that weren’t there before.

At any rate, Zenapharr had been short yet very genial with him during the arrest. As he pondered over the conversation he was going to have, he thought back on how they first met..

Six Years Earlier

A younger, doe-eyed Zenapharr walked into the barracks alongside his recruiter, being shown all around the military grounds. Sade was tidying up his bunk, chewing the fat with his fellow bunk mates. Immediately, he sensed the awkwardness in Zenapharr. It wasn’t ineptitude or that he seemed “touched,” it was more of a sense that he was a loner. Although he wasn’t sure why, but he sensed that Zenapharr preferred it that way. There was a difference about his aura, as if an ethereal puzzle of his being was missing.

“Check out the newbie,” his mate Stroud said. “He’s an elf! How crazy is that? Never thought I’d’ see one of those around here.”

“Yeah, I know, “Sade agreed.

“Maybe talking to the earth was getting too old for him,” another mate Wade scoffed. “My arms are so tired from hugging trees! Maybe humans are worth talking to!”

“Yeah.” Sade said, more unsure this time. He was not so keen on the aspect of judging others. As uptight as some viewed Sade, he never liked to jump to conclusions about people. He had become wise enough in life already to understand that people could always surprise with you, as humans were complex. Humans held many different sides to them, and this probably proved true for elves as well.

Growing up, people always talked about how elves were way too fascinated with nature, didn’t fit in with normal society, and generally talked about as if they carried a disease. This was moreso in the North, as the South having more forests tended to result in more elves living there herego society had more interaction with them. He’d never personally had a chance to speak with one, always shied away from them by his parents. Elves were naturally more adept to magic as well, which is also why Northerners seemed to dislike them so much.

Right after dinner, while Zenapharr was unpacking his belongings, he decided he would be the first to speak with him. There was not much to unpack, as it was military school and not was needed. He was nervous, not sure what to say as he was not always the socialite himself. As he approached, Zenapharr shot him back a dark glance, and right away his striking green eyes seemed to transfix him.

“Uhh, hi,” Sade greeted awkwardly , caught off guard by the accusing glance. “I wanted to meet you. I saw you were being shown around the place. Newbie and all.”

“Oh, I see,” Zenapharr nodded lightly, and kept unpacking as if uninterested.

“So…where are you from?”

“Why are you asking about me?” Zenapharr dropped, and swung around in anger.

“Whoa, hey man I just wanted to try and welcome you. No need to be suspicious.” Zenapharr’s eyes seemed to search his own, and the hardened look on his face diminished a bit.

“I’m sorry. I…I uh, don’t get out much.”

“Oh…so you’re kind of a loner huh?”

“You could say that, although I haven’t had that much of a choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, to keep it short, I’ve been raised in a facility my entire life. The only two people who ever meant anything to me died four years ago. Everyone else I’ve met either has some sort of agenda with me, or looked at me like I’m sort of an experiment. So with that in mind, I don’t like to talk about myself much.”

“Yeah…I can see why then. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“You shouldn’t be sorry. You didn’t cause these events.”

“I know…it’s just a saying. You know, sympathizing with your plight.”

“I see. I’ve seen people say those things before… I just don’t understand it.”

“You…don’t understand sympathy?” Sade wrinkled his brow.

“I understand the concept…I just don’t feel it much myself. Like looking at a math formula, in a sense. You probably would think me strange.”

“Well…you are different, but that’s not always bad. Most elves aren’t like that are they?”

“There is probably not many at all like me. I haven’t met any other elves, so I wouldn’t know about them in particular. From what I understand though, they are actually very kind and gentle people. If they unkind towards humans it’s probably only in retaliation, because of humans distaste towards them.”

“Yeah, people here in the North can be real hemophiliacs.”

“Hemophiles? Don’t you mean hemophiliac, like the medical condition?”

“Haha, no. Man, you weren’t joking when you said you didn’t get out much. It’s just a turn of phrase. Most of the time, we use it towards people who are obsessed with bloodlines, people obsessed with whether people use magic or not. Personally I don’t care whether someone uses magic or not, but I do care what they use it for.”

“That is also what I’ve been told, that Northerners are not fond of Magi. May I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“I’m not someone who is typically afraid of things….at least not afraid of being physically hurt. If you haven’t been filled in about my skills this would explain why. But yet, I am afraid of other things by being here, mostly the people.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you could say I don’t know how to talk to people, at least that’s what I’ve gathered. The only real conversations I’ve read through are in books, which I’ve read a lot of. Yet, I’ve heard being out in public is not the same. Is this a fair assessment?”

“Yeah, that is true. So you’re afraid of…making friends and things like that?”

“Yes, that is a better way to summarize it.”

“Hey, how about I teach you some of the ways of the world? You know get you cultured. Now, they actually have a class here about blending in to the point of not being noticed, but it’s not the same. I can try, anyway.”

Zenapharr shot him a quizzical look. “Why are you being so nice to me? Do you want something in return? Money, perhaps?”

“What?? No, haha!” Sade laughed. “You really are funny, man. No, it’s just something that people do for each other. I know what it’s like to be the new guy, looked at funny. My family used to move around a lot, so I learned to meet people quickly. My father’s always been determined I’ll be in the military, and I fought him about it for a while. Once I was of age, I realized that I never really had any strong ties and I was really good at combat, so the military might be a good fit. It’s done a lot for me. I’ve been here for a year, and already I feel myself blossoming, as they say.”

“Like a flower of some sort?”

“What?! Hahahah, no! It’s just an expression.” Zenapharr smirked for a second, then winked. “Oh, alright you got me there. Haha. You catch on quick.”

“I’ve been known to surprise. We all have an ace up our sleeve.”

“Yeah, you got that right.”

Sade continued to reminisce as he made his way closer to his old friend’s cell. He remembered how they had first bonded over warfare strategy. Zenapharr was as passionate as he was about combat, talking late into the night about the intricacies of swordsmanship such as the effect of a sword’s weight, types and styles of swordplay, and anything else of the like. As much as they talked, he wondered how he missed the fact that Zenapharr had something seriously wrong with him. He was different, that much was clear, and did have a flair for the dramatic, but there was never a direct malice or anger to him that he picked up on.

“Ahh, here we are,” Dr. Monroe said as they approached the cell. She called over a nearby guard to unlock the door, and gestured Sade in. “I’ll be out here, notating everything. I don’t want my presence to cause any disturbances.” Inside, Sade immediately saw what the doctor was referring to.

Scrawled all over the walls of his cell were phrases such as “too late to stop it,” “my fault”, “can’t bear it,” of which were only a few examples. Zenapharr sat in the corner, looking at the wall perpendicular to his entrance. He didn’t acknowledge Sade’s entrance, a blank solemn look painted on his face. The lights were on, but Zenapharr didn’t seem to be home.

“Zenapharr…it’s been a long time,” Sade started, slowly moving forward. The trance seemed to break, and Zenapharr snapped his head in his direction.

“Yes, it has…” he said dreamily, resuming his wall staring.

“You might stare a hole into that if you do it much longer,” Sade cracked, sitting down and aiming his slight grin.

“Hah. Perhaps,” Zenapharr continued the starry gaze.

“I see that you’ve been having some trouble. With the deaths and all. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh? That’s nice of you to visit though, all considerations within.”

“Zenapharr, I know you’ve been holding back all these feelings of guilt for some time….and they’re overwhelming I’m sure. It’s like a boiler building up pressure, once that pressures relieved…it’s catastrophic. I’ve done things too…it was on orders and I didn’t agree with it….but I’ve had my own regrets. But we find a way to deal with these things in a good way.”

“I find that hard to do in my case, mi bro’ere. I’ve killed out of pleasure, and don’t want to stop. I can only stop myself by ending it all.”

“There’s other options. You remember calling me that…after all these years?”

“Of course. You’re the only one worthy of it, brother. Elvish tongue regards anyone who is close as family as their family. And especially since my own bloodkin is no longer here it seemed most appropriate to call you brother in my native tongue. Does it bother you?”

“No, I’m just…surprised….it’s been a while since anyone’s regarded me so highly. Moving through the military ranks as quickly as I did…you start becoming the boss of all your friends. Quick way to be alone. I guess we have that in common now.”

“I never had them to lose…although I preferred it that way. I’m glad you were in on the decisions of placement at the time of my commissioning…you recognized I don’t play well with others. Making me a lone wolf was the best decision.”

“Yes, you were always so stubborn. Set in your ways.”

“What other way than to be my own?”

“As always. Tell me…what’s with putting…this… on the walls.”

“Well….a combination of boredom and…a failed try at poetry. I thought the walls a kind of canvas for expressing my feelings. I thought it might make me feel better.”

“Did it?”

“What do you think?”

“Right…” Sade nervously laughed. “What can I do to help? We have all the help you can get right here. You can’t lose hope, not when you’ve achieved so much.”

“Right here is where it all started, bro’ere. And there never was hope…appropriate that it shall be here where I will end it. Are you still of The Faith, Sade?”

“I am.”

“Prayer in the morning and evening?”

“Every day….I’ve prayed for you, you know.”

“All thanks considered, it doesn’t seem to be working.”

“Zenapharr, prayer is not a light switch that makes everything happen the way you want. It’s a hope and a belief in a higher purpose, which is served despite the outcome. We are only in control as much as what we can touch, smell, see, taste, and hear. Outside of that, you have to accept that no matter what actions you choose, destiny will always win.”

“And what if I do something I’m not destined to do?”

“That’s impossible, because the idea of destiny is that whatever the end result is meant to be.”

“So whatever I choose to do…that’s the correct destiny for me?”

“In a sense. Destiny does not imply any right or wrong…it just means that you’re fated for some purpose.”

“And what if my purpose is to die?”

“Then you will.”

“That’s the problem. If I’m meant to die, why would you convince me otherwise?”

“I never said you were meant to die or live…I ’m simply stating that I personally think you should live. Maybe your destiny is to live, and I’m charged with talking to you to help fulfill that destiny. When it comes straight down to it…I don’t know or have all the answers. That’s why it’s called faith, because it’s not actualized yet. Faith comes in, making the hope or unactualized into something actualized.”

“Deep words, mi bro’ere. Something to think about, indeed.”

“I know…I feel I should have a long white beard and say something about how having wisdom is to not have any knowledge…something contradictory like that.” At this, they both chuckled a bit. “Did you just…?” It took Zenapharr a moment to realize what had happened.

“I…suppose I did. Strange…it feels weird to do this.”

“Yeah, laughing should feel normal. Haha. Glad to see it, though. I’m sure all the scientists around here need a new change of pants. I’m shocked myself…I can’t say I’ve ever seen you laugh. On-duty or off-duty, you always had that stone face. The most I’ve seen is that sly smirk…maybe something is breaking through.”

“Interesting, yes. I was never one for introspection.”

“I see that…are you nervous about the trial?”

“Not really. There are other matters which concern me more. Besides, I could break out easily even if convicted. The nature of the crimes does throw up a red flag of ‘insanity’, if I was anyone who didn’t know me. Do you think I’m crazy?”

“…I’ll be perfectly honest with you…I don’t know. If you were to ask me six years ago, I would say no. Not only what you’ve done, but the way you’ve done it...there are some very compelling facts. If NOSRAD reports that you’ve killed children, the public is going to want to burn you at the stake.”

“Yes, I would be considered a witch of some sort then. Do you want to know something very strange?”

“Couldn’t be any stranger than this…” Sade indicated at the writings covering all around the cell.

“The Voice…the one I’m sure Dr. Monroe has told you about…it/s telling me to kill you.” Sade exchanged a nervous glance. “Don’t worry, I’m ignoring it. It started ever since you stepped in here.”

“Does it tell you to kill everyone you interact with?”

“No, not at all. It’s quite random, actually. Some seems out of opportunity, others out of emotion…it’s always slightly different. Yet…it’s telling me that I should kill you now…to prevent you from doing something later.”

“So, it tells you the future now?”

“I don’t know…it’s never done that before. Perhaps because we have a strong bond?”

“Well, I’m flattered.”

“No, what I mean is perhaps the Voice has a mind of it’s own…not a mindless urge to kill. It interacts with others…like an Aura of some sort. As if…It knows of some higher purpose, and it’s trying to carry on that message on to me.”

“Whoa…okay, Zenapharr…I would NOT put faith in a Voice that tells you to kill people. But either way….that’s out there.”

“So what IS it then? I must know…that is also what’s been driving me crazy. Not knowing is perhaps the most maddening of all states.”

“Some things you have to work out for yourself, bro’ere…? Hope I’m saying that right.”

“You said it just fine. I wish to be alone now, but it was a great pleasure talking to you.”

“You as well, my friend,” Sade reached over and clapped Zenapharr on the shoulder. He remembered that Zenapharr was never one for hugs. “I’m sorry our first interaction in years was me putting handcuffs on you…especially after our last conversation. It wasn’t comfortable for me either.”

“Think nothing of it.” Zenapharr nodded respectfully. “What’s done is done.”

“Thank you, and hey…think over what I said and please try to stay alive long enough to have one of these talks again. It was, nice…brings back a lot of memories..”

“I’m afraid I can’t make promises, but it was equally just as nice for me too. Take care, mi’broer. I’ll maybe see you in some other place, some other form if you don’t see me alive again.”

Sade left the cell, ignoring Dr. Monroe’s initial burst of chatter. He didn’t care about Zenapharr’s diagnosis…he just wanted his friend back. While there was a small ray of hope in their conversation, he could sense the desperation in Zenapharr’s voice. He prayed that, if anything, he had planted some seed of hope within his friend’s heart.

Dr. Pennington stepped through a hydraulic door, entering into a white-walled lab, an open space full of various wire and machinery which all were fed to the middle area which contained a large, sarcophagus-like device. His bloodshot eyes showcased the wear and tear of his two day marathon of working and perfecting the very creation he laid his eyes upon, the Lazarus Chamber.

"MY Lazarus Chamber,” he whispered in a dark glee. A sense of giddy excitement coursed through him as he pressed a series of buttons on the side, which then slid the top of the holding chamber to the side, revealing an inner chamber. In a frenzy, he went through and tested every part and bit of the device, making sure there were no loose ends that could cause any potential issues. The steady hum of machinery was soothing to him, an orchestra of advanced science in B-Flat to his ears. At last, everything was meticulously checked over, and he was ready to start.

At this, he opened one of the five cryogenic pods to his left and was hit by a wave of emotions at the sight. Inside was the frozen remains of his son, Nathan.

“So good to see you again, my boy. I have a gift for you.” He pulled out the tuft of hair given to him by Zenapharr and held it up to his son’s face. After waiting a second, he put it back in his pocket.

“We will be reunited again soon! We’re going to march ourselves up to that monstrous man Zenapharr and show him what kind of power he really holds! Hahaha! He’ll then know that I’m the one that won! And then I’ll rub in his face that his family is still dead, but not mine! Hehehe! And NOSRAD will recognize me as the greatest scientist to ever live! I’ll be the Restorer of Life, a….oh what was his name?? That mad doctor…Frankenstein! I’ll be a post-war Dr. Frankenstein!” He cackled amorously, then paused in front of the frozen cadaver of his son, as if listening.

“What? Oh no! No need to worry my boy! I’ve worked out ALL the kinks now! You won’t be like those mindless, braindead test subjects we brought back! Those were just the first phases! I’ve been working hard…so very hard for you, my boy! You’ll be so proud of your dear old Dad! Others….” He looked around the room suspiciously. “They won’t understand…they’ll mock me and say you’re an abomination. They’ll call me crazy! But we’ll keep you in a safe place, a secret, far from their searing words! And in time, they’ll all see what a genius I am! And best of all, Zenapharr will ask for my help and I’ll say ‘NOOOOO’. Over and over to him, haha! Are you ready, my boy??”

So after another twenty minutes of work, he managed to transport his son to the Lazarus Chamber, and the weary-eyed doctor looked down upon his boy with a deep sense of hope.

“I thought this day would never come,” he began to weep, his tears of joy dripping into the icy remains. “And it’s finally here…I can’t wait to welcome you back.” At those words, he gently placed the tuft of hair on his boys’ chest, seeming to make him whole again in his mind. With much glee, he operated the codes to close the lid to the chamber, and began the first process for Re-Animation.

Unknown to him, The Director stealthily watched him from the shadows of a nearby observation deck. He took note of all the events that were about to unfold, knowing that it would determine what hand he was going to play next.