Reuben's Choice

By M.G. Herron

Reuben is confronted with a terrible decision.

His partner has Alzheimer's disease—and at this point, there's nothing modern medicine can do to stall its advance.

There's only one option left. It will require him to explore a more... experimental path. A path he is uniquely positioned to take.

Will Reuben risk his partner's life for a portion of a sliver of a chance at a better life?

Will he risk his livelihood to do it?

Find out in this portal science fiction adventure with a twist! The translocator wasn't designed to be used in this way, but that doesn't mean it's not possible. A short story in The Translocator Trilogy universe, about everyone's favorite lab assistant with a passion for Yiddish zingers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.G. Herron
• Release date: Jun 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201390204

Book preview

Reuben’s Choice

REUBEN’S CHOICE

A TRANSLOCATOR STORY

M.G. HERRON

MGHERRON.COM

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Dear Reader

The Auriga Project

Also by M.G. Herron

Herron’s Heroes

Copyright © 2019 by Matthew G. Herron

MG Publishing LLC

All rights reserved.

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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental. This story may not be reproduced without express written consent.

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First Edition: January 2019

Second Edition: May 2022

CHAPTER ONE

Ma, I told you, I don’t want any gefilte fish. Why do you even buy this crap?

Reuben pushed the Tupperware containing the leftover fish loaf as far across the yellowing kitchen table as it would go without falling off.

They had it on sale, she explained.

That’s ‘cause no one likes it. Passover is done for and they’re trying to offload their extra stock.

I like it, she insisted.

Reuben grunted and sipped his coffee—black with two sugars. Adding the sugar was a habit he’d gotten into from drinking the bitter, earthy brew they served at the home where Charlie lived now. Other than the coffee, the place was nice. Lush garden, mahogany furniture, plenty of space. And they let Reuben visit as much as he wanted.

His aging mother frowned and turned back to the cabinets. We’ve got bagels and lox, some raisin bread, and leftover pizza from the other night when I went out with my friend Shirley, you remember Shirley?

I’m not hungry, Ma.

Reuben, you gotta eat.

I eat plenty, believe me. Reuben said, slapping his rotund belly. His gut pressed up against the inside of the button-up shirt more than than was comfortable, more than he’d like to admit. These days, not even being on his feet twelve hours at a stretch overseeing shipments to the lunar base was enough to outwork his mouth.

"Shirley told me that when her husband went into the nursing home, she also put on a few extra pounds. It’s the stress, you understand. Last year, she went on that Weight Watchers diet. Have you heard of it? I could never do that. Counting calories, me? Bologna. Too much work. But she looks ten years younger. Why, I bet—"

Ma, please. Give me a break. Shirley on Weight Watchers is the last damn thing I need to hear about right now.

His mother frowned, put the Tupperware of gefilte fish back into the fridge, and sat down across from her middle-aged son. She smoothed the apron down over her lap with two hands.

Reuben avoided eye contact and took another sip from the porcelain mug, scalding his tongue. Irrationally, he felt momentarily pleased with himself that he didn’t react to the pain. It wasn’t that he didn’t want his mother to see how he felt. After more than fifty years, she could read his emotions like an open book. It was his sense of everything else relative to the pain that pleased him. What was a little burn on the roof of your mouth when your whole life had been turned upside down? When nothing made sense? When your lifelong partner in this, the only life you would ever have, didn’t even recognize you?

How’s Charlie? his mother finally asked.

He’s fine. He likes it there because the nurses laugh at all of his bad jokes.

That’s good.

Reuben grimaced.

Is there something else?

You know how it is.

Did he say that thing about the President again?

No, God, not that. Just the usual. The confusion doesn’t help and he was always stubborn. He doesn’t seem unhappy, exactly, but I can tell. I never thought…

Reuben’s voice trailed off as he recalled what the nurses had told him that morning. How Charlie was becoming more forgetful and less cooperative. How he had started getting up in the middle of the night and singing at the top of his lungs, causing all sorts of panic among the other residents. How they were trying to figure out whether he was starting to have trouble controlling his bowels, forgotten the purpose of toilets, or some combination of the two.

Being able to afford to put Charlie in a nice place with around-the-clock care was a blessing. Reuben couldn’t possibly work twelve-hour shifts in the Translocator lab and care for Charlie at the same time, and he wouldn’t dare burden his mother with a responsibility that was his alone. Yet, knowing he couldn’t be there for Charlie all the time was also a curse. Guilt burrowed a hole in his heart, and though he shoveled all sorts of food into his body—except gefilte fish, he couldn’t stand the shit—nothing could fill it.

Nothing except Charlie. His heart ached from missing him, and he’d just seen him that