Post by sparacus on Sept 6, 2022 16:59:28 GMT -5
Ok folks, here is the first part of an exciting new Ben Chatham adventure:
THE DAY OF THE POSITRONS
Part 1
Cassie had dreams. Bad dreams. But this night was different. The visions were stranger, more complex and more real. She saw herself walking across a desolate landscape made up of white sand and shimmering pools of silvery liquid. In the distance, metallic, pointed buildings burned and smoke rose into the purple sky. She screamed and thrashed about until she woke, finding her boyfriend Neal shaking her:
"Hey Cass, its ok, its ok. Its another one of those dreams like."
She glared at him angrily:
"What the ¤¤¤¤ is happening to me? Its every night now. All the time, I can't work, I can't think, I can't live."
Neal rolled over and got out of bed:
"I'll make you a coffee. To be honest Cass, this is not good for me either. You're just a student but I need to do a day's work tomorrow and I need to sleep."
Cassie glared at him:
"Is that all you can say to me? You selfish ¤¤¤¤. You know how these dreams are wrecking my life. And I do my bit to pay the bills. I agreed to take part in Dr Rushfield's drug trials just to help you pay the rent."
Neil banged the kettle down grumpily:
"Yeah right."
Cassie Clifton was a third year student of Chemistry at Cambridge and her relationship with trainee journalist Neal Grayson was on the rocks. Neal found his work at the Cambridge Gazette dull and this was made worse by the spark going out of his relationship with Cassie. He returned with the coffee:
"Look Cass, I know you help me out with the rent and stuff but when did we last make love? When did we last even go out for a meal? A guy can only have so much patience."
Cassie grabbed the coffee, spilling some over the sheets, and took a sip:
"I want sympathy Neal not selfishness." Neal grimaced:
"Look, why don't you go back and complain to Rushfield. Its whatever he's been getting you to take that's causing these nightmares. Stop the trials and let me worry about the rent."
Cassie sipped the coffee:
"I'll go see him today".
Later that morning, Cassie Clifton, in an emotional state, strode into the research centre run by Dr Leonard Rushfield, 'RGB Research and Development', funded by Cambridge University. She strode up to the front desk where the receptionist was staring blankly at her:
"I want to see Rushfield now. I've had enough. He's ¤¤¤¤ed with my mind and now my selfish boyfriend wants to dump me. All because of this place." The receptionist was vacant-faced:
"Dr Rushfield is unavailable today Miss Clifton. Please make a proper appointment using our online booking system." Cassie became angry:
"Look you cow, I want to see that ¤¤¤¤er now. His drugs have screwed me over. I'm going in."
She strode past the desk and when the receptionist grabbed her sleeve, Cassie pulled it free and punched her. She ran to the lift as the dazed receptionist rang security. Arriving on the sixth floor she ran out of the lift and down the corridor towards Rushfield's main laboratory. As she approached, two young men tried to block her path, but she dodged out of their way and launched herself through the lab doors. She was horrified to see Rushfield and several assistants operating on a patient, however she was determined to have her say. As she approached him, she was even more horrified to see that it was actually an autopsy that he was carrying out. A white cloth covered the face of the cadaver as Rushfield lifted out a lung:
"Cassie, it really is inappropriate that you interrupt me in my work like this. What do you want?"
She stared at him in horror:
"Look you ¤¤¤¤, what the hell have you done to my mind? I can't think, I can't concentrate because of the dreams."
Rushfield smiled:
"I'm working on that. Just be patient. And be a patient. Excuse the pun".
Cassie stared at the body on the slab:
"Why are you carrying out an autopsy? This is a research lab not a pathologist's lab. Who is this?"
Rushfield frowned:
"Ok Cassie, just as an intellectual exercise, I'll let you know the truth." He pulled the cloth from the corpse and Cassie stared in horror at her own face.
Ben Chatham was lying on the sofa of his apartment in his dressing gown drinking a cup of Columbian Blue Ridge Coffee and listening to Philip Glass' 'Low Symphony'. He felt languid and tired after spending the previous day going through the Operation Delta Self Assessment Report with a government inspector. Julian was away at a lecture and Ben sighed as his phone rang. He was shocked to see that it was Katie Ryan again. He put the phone down and held his face in his hands:
"Aggh I can't face talking to her today".
Kyle, who sat in the armchair drinking coffee gave him a concerned look:
"'Ere you can't like put it off forever Ben. She keeps textin' you to say she wants back in and you like keep avoidin' it. Not good".
Ben sighed and wiped his eyes:
"Its just more stress that I don't need Kyle. Dealing with her and Corinne and their infighting is draining."
As he spoke, the door buzzer went:
"Oh what now", Ben exclaimed in an anguished voice. Kyle got up to answer the door and heard a familiar voice:
"Oh no", he said under his breath as his nephew Craig Chatham walked in holding a rucksack. He was panic-stricken and out of breath:
"I like need help. Its Isobel. She's like not Isobel anymore, and now she's gone and I'm like really stressed and feel like dying and..."
Ben stared at him angrily:
"Craig, I was trying to relax and listen to Philip Glass, Can't you get a train to Wiltshire and bother mum and dad with all of this?"
Craig was on the verge of tears and his dyed black hair fell down over his face:
"But you've got to help. Isobel has gone".
Ben remembered Craig's girlfriend, the ethereal and listless Isobel and sighed:
"Look Craig, she was a pretty little thing but always looked like a gust of wind would blow her away. She's obviously left you for another boy and was too anxious to tell you. There are other fish in the sea. How about I buy you a meal at the Mermaid Wine Bar and pay your train fare to Wiltshire?"
Craig began to go into a strop:
"You don't care. You never have. She's disappeared. She was not acting like Isobel at all. Something weird's going on."
Ben sighed:
"Ok, I suppose I ought to help."
........to be continued.
THE DAY OF THE POSITRONS
Part 1
Cassie had dreams. Bad dreams. But this night was different. The visions were stranger, more complex and more real. She saw herself walking across a desolate landscape made up of white sand and shimmering pools of silvery liquid. In the distance, metallic, pointed buildings burned and smoke rose into the purple sky. She screamed and thrashed about until she woke, finding her boyfriend Neal shaking her:
"Hey Cass, its ok, its ok. Its another one of those dreams like."
She glared at him angrily:
"What the ¤¤¤¤ is happening to me? Its every night now. All the time, I can't work, I can't think, I can't live."
Neal rolled over and got out of bed:
"I'll make you a coffee. To be honest Cass, this is not good for me either. You're just a student but I need to do a day's work tomorrow and I need to sleep."
Cassie glared at him:
"Is that all you can say to me? You selfish ¤¤¤¤. You know how these dreams are wrecking my life. And I do my bit to pay the bills. I agreed to take part in Dr Rushfield's drug trials just to help you pay the rent."
Neil banged the kettle down grumpily:
"Yeah right."
Cassie Clifton was a third year student of Chemistry at Cambridge and her relationship with trainee journalist Neal Grayson was on the rocks. Neal found his work at the Cambridge Gazette dull and this was made worse by the spark going out of his relationship with Cassie. He returned with the coffee:
"Look Cass, I know you help me out with the rent and stuff but when did we last make love? When did we last even go out for a meal? A guy can only have so much patience."
Cassie grabbed the coffee, spilling some over the sheets, and took a sip:
"I want sympathy Neal not selfishness." Neal grimaced:
"Look, why don't you go back and complain to Rushfield. Its whatever he's been getting you to take that's causing these nightmares. Stop the trials and let me worry about the rent."
Cassie sipped the coffee:
"I'll go see him today".
Later that morning, Cassie Clifton, in an emotional state, strode into the research centre run by Dr Leonard Rushfield, 'RGB Research and Development', funded by Cambridge University. She strode up to the front desk where the receptionist was staring blankly at her:
"I want to see Rushfield now. I've had enough. He's ¤¤¤¤ed with my mind and now my selfish boyfriend wants to dump me. All because of this place." The receptionist was vacant-faced:
"Dr Rushfield is unavailable today Miss Clifton. Please make a proper appointment using our online booking system." Cassie became angry:
"Look you cow, I want to see that ¤¤¤¤er now. His drugs have screwed me over. I'm going in."
She strode past the desk and when the receptionist grabbed her sleeve, Cassie pulled it free and punched her. She ran to the lift as the dazed receptionist rang security. Arriving on the sixth floor she ran out of the lift and down the corridor towards Rushfield's main laboratory. As she approached, two young men tried to block her path, but she dodged out of their way and launched herself through the lab doors. She was horrified to see Rushfield and several assistants operating on a patient, however she was determined to have her say. As she approached him, she was even more horrified to see that it was actually an autopsy that he was carrying out. A white cloth covered the face of the cadaver as Rushfield lifted out a lung:
"Cassie, it really is inappropriate that you interrupt me in my work like this. What do you want?"
She stared at him in horror:
"Look you ¤¤¤¤, what the hell have you done to my mind? I can't think, I can't concentrate because of the dreams."
Rushfield smiled:
"I'm working on that. Just be patient. And be a patient. Excuse the pun".
Cassie stared at the body on the slab:
"Why are you carrying out an autopsy? This is a research lab not a pathologist's lab. Who is this?"
Rushfield frowned:
"Ok Cassie, just as an intellectual exercise, I'll let you know the truth." He pulled the cloth from the corpse and Cassie stared in horror at her own face.
Ben Chatham was lying on the sofa of his apartment in his dressing gown drinking a cup of Columbian Blue Ridge Coffee and listening to Philip Glass' 'Low Symphony'. He felt languid and tired after spending the previous day going through the Operation Delta Self Assessment Report with a government inspector. Julian was away at a lecture and Ben sighed as his phone rang. He was shocked to see that it was Katie Ryan again. He put the phone down and held his face in his hands:
"Aggh I can't face talking to her today".
Kyle, who sat in the armchair drinking coffee gave him a concerned look:
"'Ere you can't like put it off forever Ben. She keeps textin' you to say she wants back in and you like keep avoidin' it. Not good".
Ben sighed and wiped his eyes:
"Its just more stress that I don't need Kyle. Dealing with her and Corinne and their infighting is draining."
As he spoke, the door buzzer went:
"Oh what now", Ben exclaimed in an anguished voice. Kyle got up to answer the door and heard a familiar voice:
"Oh no", he said under his breath as his nephew Craig Chatham walked in holding a rucksack. He was panic-stricken and out of breath:
"I like need help. Its Isobel. She's like not Isobel anymore, and now she's gone and I'm like really stressed and feel like dying and..."
Ben stared at him angrily:
"Craig, I was trying to relax and listen to Philip Glass, Can't you get a train to Wiltshire and bother mum and dad with all of this?"
Craig was on the verge of tears and his dyed black hair fell down over his face:
"But you've got to help. Isobel has gone".
Ben remembered Craig's girlfriend, the ethereal and listless Isobel and sighed:
"Look Craig, she was a pretty little thing but always looked like a gust of wind would blow her away. She's obviously left you for another boy and was too anxious to tell you. There are other fish in the sea. How about I buy you a meal at the Mermaid Wine Bar and pay your train fare to Wiltshire?"
Craig began to go into a strop:
"You don't care. You never have. She's disappeared. She was not acting like Isobel at all. Something weird's going on."
Ben sighed:
"Ok, I suppose I ought to help."
........to be continued.