Live Like a God Read online

  Live Like a God

  by

  Taylor Kole

  By Taylor Kole

  Virtual Heaven

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  I

  Josh Ridley sat in an empty reception area. He’d been there for twenty minutes. It was eerie to enter a relatively nice reception area and not be greeted. Growing more and more restless, he finally walked to the wooden door and found it locked.

  He returned to his seat. Once he left this office, he would delete Skinner’s number from his phone. Without his influential sales pitch, Josh wouldn’t be here. He would be at home listening to Karen recall her work week, safe in the simplicity of his routine.

  Abruptly, the wooden door opened.

  The man in the doorway was about fifty. He was tall and microphone-stand thin with curly black hair that puffed out like a Chia pet. The sallow skin beneath his salted two-day stubble made Josh think of a lunatic suicide bomber.

  “I’m Dr. Ferrel.” The man’s tone was cordial. He averted his eyes and scanned the room as if to ensure they were alone.

  “Hello,” Josh said. He wasn’t ready to stand. Just being here proved he needed something in his life, but what?

  “I understand this might seem a bit overwhelming. The reception area design adds confusion,” Dr. Ferrel said. “Memory association is telling you to fill out forms, speak to a nurse, get your ID on file. Hesitation is common, but the psychological benefits of an office of absolute trust, like your doctor’s, outweigh the detriments. Please, follow me.”

  Learning the reasoning behind a decision always comforted Josh. Here, alone in a secluded area with a stranger and an uncertain future, the information helped him continue.

  Dr. Ferrel’s office lacked windows and seemed twice as spacious as necessary. A gray door on the back wall led, presumably, to the attached warehouse-sized structure Josh had noticed from outside. The room was a hybrid of design. The high-polished cherry wood desk with a winged master chair and a pair of deep brown subordinates across from it suggested a Dean’s office, while the grayish-blue walls, fluorescent lighting, and cabinets above a single counter with a small sink made it feel like an examination room.

  “Please, have a seat.” Dr. Ferrel motioned to the chairs.

  Instead, Josh inspected the framed photos on the wall. All were of insects, mostly pin-ups like those found in a science class, and diagrams of entomological classifications: arachnids, arthropods, larvae.

  An exquisitely-framed six-feet-by-four-feet professional shot of a king scorpion on a bed of sand, its stinger poised to strike, dominated a side wall. Another high-quality photo filled the real estate behind Dr. Ferrel’s desk.

  It was a vibrant, up-close shot of a praying mantis. Its razor-clawed forelegs clenched on either side of black mandibles in the pose that had earned it its pious moniker. Its head resembled an inverted pyramid with rounded edges. Two green eyes spritzed with orange and dotted with black pupils granted the hunter an encompassing view.

  If enlarged to those proportions it would strike with a bewildering deftness. He’d be impaled, screaming and writhing as he neared the predaceous-looking mouth, all ending with a few bone-splintering crunches. Dormant instincts told Josh to forget the money he’d spent to be here and run.

  “Marvelous creature,” Dr. Ferrel said, startling Josh from the clutches of his imagination.

  Dr. Ferrel had taken up position at the side of the desk, allowing an unimpeded view. “Hierodula mantis. The word ‘mantis’ is derived from the Greek word for prophet. Something holy. Sometimes I dim the lights, sit in one of those chairs, and just marvel.”

  Josh felt as if someone had poured chalk down his throat. He glanced around for a beverage, wondering again: What am I doing?

  Living like a god.

  Skinner’s words echoed in his mind. Josh wished he’d never met the influential salesman. Deleting his contact would be top priority after negotiating a portion of his money back from this madman.

  Dr. Ferrel dropped into his seat and leaned forward. “Do you have the invite?”

  Josh eased the pouch from his pocket, and against his internal wishes to keep the ivory pass with the scrimshaw outline of a muscular man, he placed it in Dr. Ferrel’s outstretched hand.

  The doctor removed the slick ivory and admired it as he opened a side drawer and located a template that resembled a credit card swiper. Setting the ivory plate in its center, he waited while the machine verified authenticity with a double-beep and then transferred it to the drawer.

  “Do you know what that is?” Dr. Ferrel asked. “How fortunate you are to be in that chair?”

  “I don’t remember feeling that way.” Josh chuckled to hide the discomfort brought by searching his memory for ‘fortunate’ and coming up empty. “I guess many of us never find the time to count our blessings.”

  Dr. Ferrel studied him a moment before turning to open a refrigerated cabinet and retrieve a can of ginger ale. After cracking the top, he passed it to Josh and watched him drink. “Are you familiar with human anatomy?”

  Josh rested the can on the desk. “No more than the next man.”

  “It’s a fascinating field. The public might think most of our past medical curiosities have been answered definitively, but nearly every accepted theory has opposition data. I often wonder which of our modern beliefs, a century from now, will be proven foolhardy.” He leaned back, studied Josh for a moment, then continued. “The fact remains, I very much enjoy the workings of the body, particle physics, and as you can see—” he motioned to the pin-up “—entomology. My doctorate, however, is in physics with a focus on particle reconstruction.”

  Josh appreciated Dr. Ferrel sharing his thoughts, but he wanted to know how this man, and that ivory pass, intended to make him live like an actual god.

  “Have you been briefed about what to expect over the next thirty-nine days?”

  At that, Josh rose from his chair and glanced at the wooden door. “I can’t be gone that long!” He pictured the havoc Karen would wreak in that time; the ape-angry fit that would await a late return spiked an ice-shard through his heart. “I was told this lasts exactly seventy-two hours.”

  “It does, Josh. To them.” Dr. Ferrel’s gaze flitted to the door to indicate the outside world. “But for you, thirty-nine days will have passed. Allow that to be the first of many unimaginable truths.” Dr. Ferrel interlaced his long, bony fingers and eased closer. “There are gaps in the human body, gaps in all matter. The universe is full of wasted space. A true mystery.

  “Cellular globs float in our bodies. When pressed together they leave enormous fissures. Couple this with the gaps in cells, air in fluids, fat tissue, and we find immense room for… ergonomic reconfigurations.” A moment passed. “Are you following me?”

  Josh swigged the ginger ale thinking, not one bit, but he said, “I mean, I understand what you’re saying.” Draining the rest of the can, he returned it to the desk, wiped his hands on his thighs and thought, Why is it so hot in here?

  Sterile floors and walls, decadent furniture, this man babbling nonstop yet saying nothing, and that praying mantis eyeing him clamped pressure around his heart.

  Dr. Ferrel opened another drawer and planted a fifth of rum on the desk. “Would you like a drink?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Dr. Ferrel set a glass between them and filled it halfway.

  Josh drank half. He then held the glass loosely in his lap and considered everything he could lose by continuing on.

  Karen was a quality partner. She was a bit controlling and self-centered, but she was smart and beautiful, in that respectable way where she blended in at any e
vent yet didn’t draw the attention of every man. Having made a colossal mistake by agreeing to this, Josh decided to propose marriage when he returned and place her in charge of their finances. Two things she wanted.

  He downed the rest of his drink.

  The first gulp had calmed him. The second helped loosen his hold on rational decision making, or at least could act as his scapegoat in foregoing the treasured mindset.

  “I’ve never asked this before,” said the doctor. “Often, the person sitting where you are is an aristocrat demanding to know every minute detail. After reading your bio and a bit on microeconomics, I’ll ask: would you like an explanation, or shall we begin?” After a blank stare from Josh, he continued. “See, I read about opportunity costs last night. Perhaps you want to forego the prattle of how and what to maximize your return on time.”

  Opportunity costs sought the highest value of alternate uses of one’s time. A discussion on microeconomics was the last thing Josh expected in this eerie building.

  “What I’d value,” Josh said as he stiffened his back, the alcohol encouraging him, “is learning what my small fortune bought me.”

  “Very well.” Dr. Ferrel exhaled. “First and foremost there is no risk with the procedure. We’ve only had successful results over the past twelve years. Hundreds of people, thousands of animals, all without incident.”

  Risk. Procedure. Incident. Josh longed for a window but his eyes returned to the beady glare of the lime-green mantis.

  “Today we will remove all of God’s waste and microscopically reshape what remains.”

  Josh twisted the empty glass between his fingers.

  “We are going to shrink you, Josh, to under a quarter of an inch,” Dr. Ferrel said as he stood, his voice rising with excitement. “What initially astounded us, and elevated this breakthrough, was the disproportionate retention of mass when shrunk.” His eyes widened as he paused to make sure Josh was paying attention.

  “A man three millimeters tall will weigh a quarter-ounce! Understand, that is like you looking the same as you do now, moving as nimbly, yet weighing over a ton.”

  Josh’s buzz settled in nicely, allowing him to follow this man’s absurdity with interest rather than outrage. He placed the empty glass on the desk.

  “If that were true, Josh, you could shove this desk with a force that would send it, and me, through the wall. Your skin would glow healthily yet be as strong as treated leather. Your cranium and sternum would be near impenetrable.” Dr. Ferrel adopted a thousand-yard stare. “Time fluctuates based on mass and speed. Faster in some places. Slower in others. This is a take on Einstein’s theory of relativity. Another amazing side effect of our procedure is that for every day that passes here, thirteen will lapse while you are modified.”

  Josh snatched the empty glass and guided the remaining drops of rum into his mouth. “What happens after…?”

  “I’m getting there, Josh. Once you are miniaturized you’ll be transported to another world. One in constant chaos, one where monsters lurk in bushes, demons raid villages looking to feed, where human life is difficult. In an environment of immediacy, value shifts from mundane chatter and days of banality to the simple pleasure seeking and pain avoidance.

  “Yet their culture has a greater degree of hope, for they have tangible saviors. Gods who descend from the heavens. Indestructible mortals with unyielding strength. Deities who often slaughter the scourge. Who possess the power to return their lives to a semblance of safety. Where you, Josh Ridley, can make a difference.”

  Josh’s mind whirled, and not from the rum alone.

  He rose and walked to the larvae poster.

  The elegant, almost graceful, silken quality of the mosquito larva intrigued him while the vile, blanched casing of the ugly blowfly—which resembled a dried intestine—had the opposite effect.

  Larvae, what a strange decoration. In this office they piqued great interest. The images took his mind off paying a year’s bonus to go from a pudgy number cruncher to a warrior.

  He dropped his head and swallowed.

  If Skinner had been more forthcoming, he could have saved their friendship, possibly Josh’s relationship with Karen, and definitely a lot of money.

  Whatever this man meant by slaughtering demons, Josh wanted no part of it. He still suspected himself a pawn in an elaborate ruse. Crazy man Ferrel would have him drink an elixir or ingest some pill and then lead him through a dream-like fantasy.

  How could Skinner have been so foolish?

  Facing Dr. Ferrel, Josh committed himself to playing along... For now. “Say, for a moment, I believe what you’re saying.”

  Dr. Ferrel nodded.

  “I gave you that money to risk my safety, possibly die once I’m in this new place?”

  “Not at all.” Dr. Ferrel furrowed his brow. “Not at all. You invested in a chance to live. To quench the thirst for conquest and purpose that we all harbor.” He pointed to the wooden door. “You can walk out that door and find death. Trudge to your end like all the others. Or…” He pivoted toward the gray door. “You can enter a beyond of your own choosing. A place where no one can deny your will. Live life as you truly choose. Help if you want. Pillage, if that lives in your heart. Dominate. Maim. Humiliate—”

  “Enough,” Josh said, squeezing his eyes shut. Opening them, he asked, “What type of person do you think I am?”

  Dr. Ferrel crumpled his forehead and drew back with a quizzical look. “You are human, Josh, therefore I’ll never know.”

  Breathing deeply to ward off the jab at his character, Josh again wondered how he could have been so stupid or how much Skinner had earned for this referral. You think someone is your friend, that you have this deep, meaningful bond, and then learn it was all a scam. A long con to bilk a sucker.

  “Do you trust the man who gave you that card?”

  Josh used to. Making eye contact, and reading only devout interest in Dr. Ferrel, Josh nodded.

  “Then trust him still. Everyone who comes to me has reservations. Follow me through the other door. Let me show you the greatest wonder of our time.”

  No thank you, Josh thought. He might be gullible but he wasn’t brain-dead. Aloud he said, “Okay.”

  The gray door led to a warehouse with steel framing, concrete floors, and dim lighting. Near the entrance was a well-lit dome that resembled an igloo molded out of clear acrylic. Although empty, the inside appeared the ideal size for housing an apple tree. Another layer of acrylic, as wide as a hallway, circled this igloo and glowed white from interior lights. A control panel stood to its left.

  Two glass tanks forty feet tall and two hundred feet long, their sides painted to prevent an inside view, occupied the remainder of the space.

  “Alphaloome and Betaloome,” Dr. Ferrel said. “Two complete worlds. Each with unforgiving terrain and more than double the landmass of the state of Delaware. Alphaloome is an arid, rocky desert. Betaloome is an overgrown jungle of dense vegetation. Both worlds are fraught with peril. Each habitat’s denizens constantly pray for a respite delivered by gods.”

  The size and stillness of the warehouse made Josh feel small. With something this size he would have expected more commotion: bleating horns, hand-carts rushing about, safety lights and sounds, even robots stocking shelves, but nothing stirred. Even with the illuminated acrylic igloo, an Instagram post would be no more than curious, if not outright dull. To senses beyond the accepted five, however, the place inspired and electrified Josh.

  “My preference is to have you inserted within the next nine minutes. Get you there by early afternoon.”

  “Shouldn’t we slow down?” Josh asked. His blood raced when he considered the possibilities, but in the world of finance, common sense ruled. “I’m not even sure I want to be part of your experiment.”

  Dr. Ferrel hadn’t heard or chose to ignore the comment because he positioned himself before the control panel and interacted with a touch screen. The glass igloo shifted and rotated like an automated Ru
bik’s cube until an entrance faced Josh.

  “I should warn you, a person can only be resized once. Should you choose to return for a second visit you will have access to Apotheosis—an unimaginably large and diverse world—but that would be a non-reversible trip.”

  Second visit? Josh hadn’t even decided to go on a first trip.

  “Remove your clothes. All of them.”

  “Listen—”

  “Please,” Dr. Ferrel interrupted. “You need to avoid thinking about the present.” He touched the screen and a hum emanated from within the dome. He raised his voice. “You need to focus on the motivation that drew you to your vehicle this morning, on what made you convert cash to diamonds, on the trust you have in your sponsor, on the fact that he cared for you so deeply that he shared this miracle with only you.”

  Before he okayed the action, Josh’s hand unbuttoned his shirt. He trusted Skinner to the point of mental illness. More than that, he couldn’t look into his friend’s disappointed eyes or Karen’s contemptuous ones without an argument to fall back on or an experience to share.

  Slipping off his second sock, he glanced at the doctor who was monitoring the readings on the control screen. Imagining Dr. Ferrel’s disgust when he took in his plump, pink body filled Josh with self-consciousness. Why had he spent so many years avoiding the gym and eating fast food? Were all Dutch people anchored with perpetual baby fat?

  “Your skivvies as well.”

  Josh obliged. Even though the doctor never faced him, Josh covered himself with his hand as he awaited further instructions.

  “Thank you,” Dr. Ferrel said. “That was much simpler than the hour spent cajoling a prince this morning. Now please, step into the reconstructor, head to its center, and have a seat.”

  Josh stared at the inviting opening. Despite all his reservations, it beckoned. Vibrations near the threshold gave him pause. Steeling his nerves, he scampered to the center of the dome, sat on the cold acrylic flooring, and wrapped his arms around his knees.

  The igloo shifted again. Banging, sliding, rotating. This time when Josh looked around, he saw no exit. No presumed entrance. The noise increased. The humming jiggled his love handles. The surrounding white glow brightened until he could see nothing else. Judging by the strobing distortion of light the glass hallway was spinning.