Purpose of the Blog

This blog thenceforth shall be my creative output and outlet. Only constructive criticism is welcomed.

Saturday, May 19, 2012

Perfect - Chapter 3


Chapter 3
Clichés

The moment I entered the office the following day I went straight to the computer and searched for the profile of the man in my dreams—green eyes with brown hair.  My estimates were right; there were only five people that fit the profile in the entire district and only one had a doctorate (who else would have to wear a lab coat?).  I made my way to the office of Prof. Colleen. 

The office was situated in the heart of the city.  The city hub was not my favourite of places to be in especially with the after-work jams.  I took the subway to avoid just that. 

While walking to the building, I ran through Prof. Colleen’s file in my head.  Prof. Colleen arrived in the city about a month after I was found.  He is a research scientist specializing in tissue reproduction.  No marriage.  No divorces.  No history before he arrived here.  The only reason why he was in the database was because he was suspected of using live human subjects in one of his experiments. 

But what connections did he have to me? Except his timely arrival a month after my discovery, there was nothing.  Unless I was one of those live human specimens he tested on.  I did have rapidly regenerative skin compared to others, but doctors have said that it was because of my super high metabolic rate.

“What can I do for you, Detective?” Prof. Colleen said as he greeted me into his lab.  I saw stasis tubes by the hundreds holding various samples of skin.  I noted none were big enough to hold a human in, but then again, research like those is carried on behind closed doors.

“I would like to ask whether the name Adam rings a bell.” I said as I sat down at his desk.

“You have to be more specific than that, I’m sorry.”

“Adam thirteen?” It was there that I caught his eyes widen for a split second before going back into his normal stern face. 

“What exactly are you investigating, Detective?” Colleen spoke defensively.  He reached for his hip—a move common of enforcement agents who instinctively reach for their sidearm.  There was of course no real danger as I did not see the bulge of a gun at his hip when I first entered the office.

“That information is confidential,” I could not believe I used the oldest cliché in the police book, “what can you tell me about Adam thirteen?”

Colleen smiled at me and said:

“My dear, Detective, I just need to make just one phone call and you’ll be out of a job.  I ask you again, nicely, what is your case?” 

“Are you threatening an agent of the law?”—again another cliché—“As long as I uphold justice, there is nothing you can do.”

Just then there was a knock on the door and two men in suits walked in.

“Is there a problem, Prof. Colleen?” One of them said as he reached at his hip as a warning to me.

“No,” Colleen said, “This detective was just about to leave.” He said it sternly and I knew that it was a threat.  I could easily take the two men down, but I would risk getting into a lot of trouble.  I decided that it was better to continue my investigation not behind bars.  I got up and said:

“Don’t leave town.” Another cliché?  Was I becoming a real cop now?   

I was escorted to the exit where I thanked the security for the hospitality—sarcastically.  I do not know whether they wanted me to know or not, but it was obvious that one of the security personnel was following me.  I steered myself into the most crowded areas, not to disappear, but more to avoid giving a chance for a clear shot.  I took a quick glance at the guard and I noted that he was carrying a firearm—with the safety off.  I knew I got myself into a big mess.  I tabulated my options.  The most logical move was to flee.  Fleeing would mean civilians would be safe and my chances of survival would be higher, but it would also mean giving this suspect a chance to escape. An alternative option would be to confront the target, but that would risk innocent injuries and even deaths.  I decided on another alternative and walked towards the secluded, abandoned construction site.  I stood behind a steel pillar before unhooking my holster and pointing my firearm at him.

“That is far enough. Put your hands where I can see them.” The amount of police clichés I have said today was really bothering me.  I was greeted with a gunshot.  The blast would have got me if I had not been behind the pillar. Instead the bullet ricocheted off the metal pole creating sparks.  More bullets soon followed suit, but they came from various directions and the bullets were from different calibre guns.  I heard the sound of a sniper at my right.  Shooting would risk getting shot myself, so I stayed my ground.  I almost called for backup but then decided not to as too many people would be at risk.  The shooting soon stopped.  The man who was following me shouted:

“This is a warning! Stay away from the ADAM case! You will not be given a chance next time!”  He walked away and I heard the other shooters move away.  45 seconds passed before I decided that it was safe.  It was then that the pain hit me.  Bullets had found their way into my shoulder, shin, and thigh.  I reached into my phone and dialled the number of the PD while I felt the world blacking out.  I heard the front desk officer Elaine’s voice.

“This is Thomason…trace…me...” I drifted into unconsciousness.     

Purpose is a motivation to live.  What is man without a purpose? What is life if there is no reason to live?  Man needs a purpose no matter how small to keep him going through life.  May it be to get an ‘A’ on an exam or to sing on stage, we all have a purpose to live.

I awoke in a hospital bed surrounded by doctors running around the room. 

“He’s awake! Someone, sedate him now!” a doctor yelled.  I looked at my body.  My shoulder wound was probably caused by a sniper and my leg wounds by a sidearm.  I managed to speak through the mask they put on my face.

“The bullets are evidence.”

“We know that, sir, please let us get them out of you first,” The doctor was clearly shocked at my ability to speak, “Sedate him now!”

“We already have…twice,” shouted the nurse.

“Must be the adrenaline pumping,” the doctor concluded, “Up the anaesthetic.”

I tried to defy the doctor’s orders, but soon the anaesthetic started taking its effect and I felt my world fade away the second time in the day. 

Unconsciousness

Monday, May 7, 2012

Catch Your Breath


Verse II
It seems like the world is moving too fast
It seems what we have made is not made to last.
Everyone is rushing and running today
It seems like we’re rushing and running away.
 Pre-Chorus
So can we take this slow?
I want to know.
Cause the world keeps on forcing itself on us
But I want to keep you first
Chorus
So catch your breath
Take your time
I can wait
For you tonight
There’s no need to rush
There’s no need to shout….hush
Let’s enjoy what we have
And catch your breath.
Verse II 
We have time to make this bloom
Into something above the tomb
Of broken hearts and broken dreams
‘Perfect’ may not be what it seems
Bridge
No matter what the miles between us; no matter what the pain
No matter what the trials before us; no matter what the rain
No matter what the time it takes us; no matter who’s to blame
No matter what the past behind us; to me it’s not a game

Dedicated to the one who is waiting for me