When he needed work, he became a carpenter. The manual labor kept his body in shape, and the math kept his brain moving. While working, Gabriel would often scribble down theories about autopoiesis and chemical structures right on the wood. Hundreds of benches, stairs, and wooden decks in southern California would forever be covered with these notes, hidden under coats of paint.
When his daughter was born, he began speaking to Yvonne again, tentatively, at first, and only over the phone. While she expressed enthusiastic support for his new lifestyle, she also told him that she had a new man in her life and that she didn’t yet trust Gabriel with their child. Gabriel was saddened, but he understood, and he knew that if he kept on the same path, if he proved himself, she would trust him again.
In the spring of 1991, Gabriel was working in the lab at four in the morning when he made his discovery. At first, he thought he was dreaming. He blinked in disbelief, but there was no denying it. He had done it. He had discovered an HIV vaccine. He stared at the glass vial filled with the clear liquid that would change the world, and he smiled.
He couldn’t believe it. He had been sitting at a table in a lavish restaurant with the CEO of Banner-Campbell Pharmaceuticals, mere minutes away from making demands on one of the most powerful men in the country. But there he was, hiding in the bathroom and splashing cold water on his face, because all he wanted was a drink. If only that girl hadn’t asked…
No, it wasn’t the waitress’s fault. She was a nice girl, chipper and friendly. She couldn’t have known her question would suck the air from his lungs. “Hey, sir! Would you like to know what’s on tap?”
He’d been sober for six years. But the smell of alcohol and the fantasy of a glass in his hand were still excruciating. At the beginning he’d hoped the urge—no, the craving—would go away, but after so long, he knew better. There was no such thing as a former alcoholic. Every day, for the rest of his life, would be a struggle.
Just one more drink. Think of it as a celebration, Gabriel. Just one more, for old times’ sake.
He looked at his damp face in the bathroom mirror and compared it to the zombie-like face that had looked back at him from his rearview mirror on the last day he’d seen Gareth. That face had been hideous. He’d looked older then than he did in that restaurant almost seven years later.
He told himself that millions of people needed his meeting with the CEO to go well. But that was crazy. He was just one man, an alcoholic deadbeat dad whose ex-wife still hadn’t permitted him to see his daughter’s face. But in recent phone calls, she had hinted that she was considering taking Melanie on a trip to California.
Melanie. He so wanted to make his little girl proud.
Glancing in the mirror again, he saw the redheaded seven-year-old boy writing notes on the blackboard, the same boy who had dreamed of doing what Gabriel had finally accomplished.
Gabriel stepped away from the sink, shaking, but as he walked toward the bathroom door, he felt good. Damn good. And he sure as hell didn’t want a stupid drink—and it wouldn’t have stopped at one—to ruin that for him. He took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped across the threshold.
Gabriel walked onto the stage in Stockholm, Sweden to accept the Nobel Prize. His legs trembled beneath him. He peeked out at the audience, a crowd of thousands that included Sweden’s royal family, the prime minister, and a few of the same young American scientists he’d met back in his first recovery meetings. In the back of the room were three empty chairs. If things had been just slightly different, those chairs could’ve been filled with his loved ones. He couldn’t change the past, but he could change the future.
Gabriel felt his face flush. He had no idea how he was supposed to give a speech in front of thousands of people. He gave an embarrassed shrug, and laughter spilled from his mouth.
The people applauded, and everything became a blur. Gabriel took his prize and held it up in the air like an Academy Award. Then, he moved to the microphone and felt around in his pocket. Oh, marvelous. He’d forgotten to bring his speech.
“Well, um… I have absolutely no idea what to say.”
The crowd laughed and clapped.
Gabriel straightened his shoulders and smiled. “But what I will say is that this is a greater honor than I ever could’ve asked for. I didn’t create the Schist vaccine for this honor, of course. I did it because I believed in doing what was right. I believed that every life is valuable and that if a human life can be saved, it should be. But getting to this point, I… um… creating that vaccine, it was a constant challenge throughout my life.” He fidgeted with the microphone. “It was a challenge I could never have overcome if not for the people who believed in me along the way. Once upon a time, there were two regular, everyday parents, good people, parents who were stuck with a child they didn’t understand, but they loved him. And after them, there was an old man who had faith in a little redheaded boy with big ideas. And there was a woman who took that boy, showed him what love was, and gave him the nurturing he needed. And now, there’s a little girl, a girl I’ve never actually met, whose very existence shook me awake during my darkest hour.
“I wasn’t there for those people, not when I needed to be. But they were there for me. Always. And because of that, I just want to say, thank you. Thank all of you.”
Chapter 38:
Collective
Summer 2018
Gabriel Schist sat in the gazebo of Bright New Day’s smoking area, listening to the distant rumble of the ocean. He stared into the window of Glenda Alvarez, the latest black-eyed victim of the Schistlings. She was only sixty-three years old, with hair that had been permed last week. The nurse checking Glenda’s IV glanced over and spotted Gabriel. With a frown, she walked to the window and closed the blinds.
Night by night, the air was getting just a tiny bit colder. Autumn wasn’t far away, and once the leaves had fallen, the full white blast of another New Hampshire winter would be upon them. The rain had stopped a few hours ago, but the ground was still wet. The thought was enough to make Gabriel tighten his trench coat. He stared longingly past the fence that held him prisoner, wishing he could charge forward and bend the iron bars with his bare hands. He wanted to touch the ocean again, freely, often, without his joy being poisoned by the fear of a future on the Level Five unit.
He took a long drag of his cigarette. Watching the paper burn, he realized that he didn’t even remember lighting it. He also wasn’t sure how long he’d been outside or even how many cigarettes he’d smoked. But thinking about Yvonne always made time disappear. That was why he tried to avoid thinking about her. Her memory was a dementia-causing trigger.
He turned his mind back to the Schistlings. More and more people were being infected every day. The virus had become the biggest story on the news. Gabriel peered up at the night sky. He looked at the stars. The planetary bodies. The moon. The universe. He felt as if every molecule in that great universe was telling him that he was the only one who could find a cure and as if every grain of dirt on the puny earth beneath his feet was laughing at his inability to do so. He shook his head and muttered, “Fuck you.”
“That’s quite unnecessary.” Leopard Print crawled out from under the nearest bush.
Gabriel didn’t reply, look down, or respond in any fashion whatsoever. He hoped that if he ignored the slug’s existence, it would disappear, cease to exist.
“Gabriel, wishing me away isn’t going to make me disappear.” The slug sighed. “And I do find such a wish quite offensive, by the way. But we’ll put that aside for the time being. You really must—”
“Tell me, what’s the deal with the skeleton dolls? For that matter, how do you know so much about the Black Virus? And how does Victor Calaca know you?”
“I am not the one who must tell you these answers. Giving it away will only stagnate you, not aid in your growth. You must find the solutions within your own mind.”
“Oh, yeah? In that case, shut up.”
“The Schistlings are—”
“I know. I know. You’re going to give this whole big speech about how I’m the only one who can do this, or how I have to go see this ridiculous Sky Amoeba monstrosity, and so on and so forth. But listen, and listen good: my answer is no. Simple as that. No. I can’t cure a rogue immune system. At this point, my degraded brain cells aren’t capable of processing anything besides eating, sleeping, and daily bowel movements. I can’t even remember my own daughter’s face. The more I try, the more my cognition falls to pieces. Soon, I’ll be locked inside my own body with no escape. Totally alone.”
The slug tilted its head. “You’re afraid of being alone? You’ve been a loner since birth, and yet you’re afraid of being alone? Consider this: the greatest triumphs in human history were accomplished by the will of remarkable individuals. Lone individuals, Gabriel. People devoted to their own goals and driven to pursue them. Strong individuals are the lifeblood of humanity. Think of those who mindlessly enslave themselves to the desires of others in a need to fit in, those who sacrifice their individuality to be dominated by the masses. Those people don’t make any kind of mark on society, do they?”
“Wait. You’re arguing against sacrifice?”
“Certainly not. Sacrifice is an incredible, amazing thing, but it’s amazing only because each individual human life is so valuable, so unique. See, that’s where you human beings differ from the Schistlings. The Schistlings are a collective entity. No Schistling is ever alone. They have no individuals.”
