Quasi-human

By Alessandro S Scafato

Following a car accident that permanently injures the spinal cord of Sofia Hayes, young researcher Dr Elijah Levin and his colleagues begin developing a revolutionary technology that will restore her ability to walk once and for all.

Caught between the struggles of depression and a father who refuses give up on her condition,

• Language: English
• Publisher: AA
• Release date: Jun 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9783952579213

Book preview

Copyright Alessandro S. Scafato, 2016

Author and Publisher

All Rights Reserved

ISBN: 978-3-9525792-1-3

No parts of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted by any means (electronic, photocopying or otherwise) without the permission of the Author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

A few words before you start…

If you are reading this, it means you have bought, borrowed or stolen this book from somewhere.

I don’t want to waste your time by writing a long note, so I will limit myself to telling you how grateful I am that you have chosen to spend your free time reading my work. I hope that you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

I must also warn you that despite certain names of locations, magazines and institutions existing in real-life, everything in this book comes from my imagination only and does not represent the truth in any way.

It is not my intention to picture any of these things as good or evil, or comment on what role they have in ‘real’ society, as it is not my aim to make any political or social statements. The sole reason I used these names, facts and locations is to enhance the reading experience, by offering details that make everything feel closer to reality.

If you have read this far and you are already bored, please feel free to skip to the first chapter straightaway. You already know everything that really matters to me.

However, if you want to know a bit more about how this book came to life, you should read on a little.

I started writing mainly because I needed a new hobby and I decided to prove to myself that I could finish a whole novel. At first, I didn’t think I would aspire to publishing this book, but after months spent on this project I began to believe in its message. It took me months of walking around in circles thinking ‘what would happen next?’ I am sure that half of Bristol has seen me walking around or driving to work while talking to myself. I just hope they imagined I was on the phone.

This book has been written with the real world in mind. As a former Ph.D. in Biomechanics, I decided to write this work imagining what the world would look like in the eyes of future generations. I have a huge passion for science, whether it is medicine, psychology, neuroscience, engineering or physics (you name it) and I wanted to use this passion to communicate my views in an entertaining fashion.

I also wanted to show the world that real science is exciting, adventurous. There is no need to jump into black holes or live on Mars to make science more appealing to the casual reader, even if black holes and space stuff are genuinely awesome.

Having said this, it’s time for me to thank you once more and leave you to the actual story.

Quasi-human

A. S. Scafato

CoverImage

A Scientifically Accurate Fiction

Chapter 1

Elijah Levin – Antwerp, Belgium

Dear Dr Levin,

My name is Dr Hayes. I am the CEO of Osiris Corp. You may not have heard of me, but I am a good friend of Prof Sercan Zeybek, whom I have known since our time at MIT. We spoke recently about your research on connections between prosthesis and the central nervous system and I would like to offer you the chance of continuing your work with Osiris.

Sercan can vouch for me so by all means please do speak to him regarding this proposition. I am sure he will offer you good advice on this matter.

It is important for me that you understand that this offer comes not only for business reasons but also from a more pressing and personal event, which I would like to discuss with you, if you agree to meeting me face to face, perhaps next week.

I hope you will accept my invitation.

Yours Sincerely,

Dr Jules Hayes

Reading the email, my mind couldn’t quite process the implications of this offer. I shut my tablet and suddenly a million thoughts and fears kick me awake. This must be what Sercan mentioned during our last meeting; Jules is not just some random person who wants to meet, and this is far from being a scam. It might mean a completely new avenue for my research, and I’d finally be making an awful lot of money out of what I love most.

I wheel myself towards the bathroom whilst still immersed in my thoughts.

This stupid wheelchair is squeaking again! I was convinced I had it fixed last time; it must be a curse or something.

I splash a handful of water onto my face then shout at my home assistant to call me a cab; the device replies by informing me that a car to University will arrive in ten minutes. Suddenly, my phone gives a sharp vibration.

GEERT: Hey buddy! I am coming to pick you up with the Honda. You’re still at home, right?

ELIJAH: Man, how many times do I have to tell you? That car is not meant for cripples!

GEERT: Come on! I am waiting at the door, just roll over here already!

ELIJAH: You are worse than a girlfriend, you know that?

GEERT: I am here, love!

ELIJAH: Shut up! I am coming down

Ok, so that’s Geert, who probably had someone to sleep over last night and absolutely had to tell me before breakfast. That man is way too much for this world. I am sure that the boot of the stupid Honda won’t close with my chair in it, but fair enough.

I get the lift down from my apartment in Zuid and see Geert’s car parked as illegally as possible. He is waiting, sitting on the hood of the Honda.

‘I’m here, I’m here, stop whining already!’ I say, approaching the car.

‘Just jump in, man!’ He is in a good mood. I sense satisfaction in his voice.

‘Yeah, because last time I won the Olympics with my long jump skills…’ I approach the door and shift myself onto the car seat.

‘Ha! Quit the bullshit Eli, I’ll put the chair in the boot.’ I wait for him to try closing the boot and hear it smashing onto the frame of my chair: once, twice… will it be three times? Yes, it will!

‘You know that destroying my chair with your car won’t make me any more grateful, right?’ I say, trying to fake anger over my amusement.

‘One second! I am using the cables.’ Like every other time. ‘Well, that’s strange; I actually made space for it! It’s not my fault; I really thought it would fit.’ It was just a matter of moving the rubbish away.

‘Let’s go, shall we?’ He continues.

‘Just don’t drive like a moron,’ I beg.

Fortunately, the morning traffic forces him to drive reasonably. After years of hanging out with him I know the sole purpose of owning this car is for the appeal that it instils in women. After all, he is not really interested in motors at all. Not once has he mentioned what’s under the hood of his car, and for all he cares, there could be a colony of well-educated hamsters running it.

‘I assume you want to talk about your latest adventures over breakfast?’ I remind myself of his presence.

‘Oh yeah! I’m heading straight to the Agora.’ Good, at least I will have something to drink while he babbles about last night!

The Agora is the cafeteria of Antwerp University, one of those okay places which everyone, from students to professors, start going to just because it’s easily accessible from the department. Still, five years later here we are, getting the same coffee in the same place we thought we’d have ditched after a few weeks of University. Too mainstream, our young selves once said. Too busy, we reply today.

‘Espresso for me please, no sugar,’ I order at the bar of the canteen.

‘You are a maniac, as usual. You do know that drinking coffee without sugar is for serial killers, right?’ My friend promptly comments behind me.

‘Yes. I know!’ My mouth stretches into a compulsive smile. ‘You say it every damn morning. I have no idea where you read that, but I am sure the stereotype must be at least a hundred years old.’ In talking to Geert, I try to stay serious, though it’s virtually impossible with him.

He is like one of those gigantic dogs that seem a bit dumb at first but are extremely clever once they get to do things. He must be a couple of metres tall from my perspective; in comparison I probably look like a Hobbit. Obviously I am disadvantaged, as I’m always sitting, but even if I could stand it wouldn’t make too much of a difference in terms of proportions.

‘So tell me everything, any action?’ I introduce the conversation while sipping my coffee.

‘Yeah man, loads of it! I went with this group of Spanish students. They were absolutely crazy!’ The excitement he shows sometimes looks too explosive to be real.

‘I believe so… anyone I know?’ I ask, mildly worried.

‘Don’t think so, they are undergrads. I just hope none of them knows Maria, otherwise I might be in a little trouble again.’ He scratches the back of his head and tries to look ashamed, though in reality he takes pride in his scheming.

Geert is one of those rare specimens who find trouble by being too talented at social relations. Apart from having the looks for it, he puts a huge effort and dedication in his seduction skills. Still, sometimes hearing about his techniques can sound totally degrading for the opposite sex.

‘Spit it out. Was she cute, at least?’ I smile naughtily.

‘Yeah... but she isn’t who I am after. I haven’t even slept with her… She has a friend, though.’ He tries to keep my attention by putting his open palm right between us. ‘Angela, a much harder catch.’

‘So you are going after her bad-looking friend to leverage on her jealousy? That’s a rookie trick,’ I comment. I am so glad there aren’t feminists overhearing this conversation.

‘It’s just a starting strategy; while I date this girl I’ll have the opportunity to get to know Angela. From there I only have to make her laugh and keep her amused.’ I stare at him, puzzled by his methodical approach, wondering if he was always that way.

A part of me shivers, listening to his strategies, before my rationality takes over, keeping me entertained by his ruthless art of seduction.

Sometimes even I struggle to figure out how I became friends with Geert. I suppose I make a good wingman, being paraplegic and everything, but that’s not all of it. The point is that he simply doesn’t see a disabled person when he looks at me. I strongly believe he is the least empathetic man ever, considering he makes the meanest jokes about me having to push myself around all the time.

Nevertheless, for someone who has been like this for almost all his life, it’s a relief to have someone who sees my condition as a feature, and not as a sad condition.

‘You should be careful, Geert; half of my friends already hate you because of your stunts!’ I lecture.

‘I would be worried, my friend, if the entire collection wasn’t comprised solely of me and Aya,’ he replies, then pauses, a moment of reflection, and continues. ‘You are far too selective, man.’ I bow to his logic.

After taking my last sip of coffee, I lean back in my chair, ready to change subject. ‘Whatever, man. Hey, I got an email today, job offer I think, from a chap in Boston.’

‘Elaborate?’ He looks at me as if I am about to reveal something of utter stupidity.

‘He is a friend of Professor Zeybek. I understand they were together during his Master’s at MIT. I am meeting with Sercan later to talk about it then I’ll hit the lab,’ I explain, trying to hide my over-excitement.

‘Sounds like a real thing… Good luck with it, man.’ He looks at his watch casually. ‘I’d better get off to work before people steal my spot at the lab. Speak later!’ I just nod and wave as he gets up to leave.

It’s strange how a stereotypical morning can feel so different from any other day. I have a gut feeling that the email will bring huge changes in my life. Yet I look around me and everything else is exactly the same as yesterday.

***

The office of Professor Sercan Zeybek always emanates the most intense smell. I can never quite tell what it is, but it’s something like a mix of musk and incense.

Sercan has been my mentor for four years now. He has been a decent boss, not too strict, but severe when required.

I started my work with him in the field of Biomechanics, which I might describe (if my grandma were to ask) as a kind of science that began when a local mechanic decided he also wanted to be a family doctor.

All my years as a PhD student have paid off, though; now I am finally getting on with what I actually want to do. I enjoy the freedom, but the fact is that research is always slow, damn slow. I might stay a researcher for years before getting something better.

The thrill of knowing more about this Jules guy creeps into my mind as I approach his door. The man seems pretty serious from the way he wrote the email, but I’m still not convinced that he such a big deal when Osiris is basically an unknown company.

Professor Zeybek is always rather witty. At first I used to call him Zoidberg, after an old cartoon character, to exorcise myself from his authority. From time to time I still do, out of habit.

Giving silly names to people who I am supposed to fear is an exercise I have been practicing since I was little, starting with Miss Laura, the principle of my primary school. I loved to call her Darth Lolly because of her black outfit, grumpy face and curly blonde hair, which made her head perfectly spherical. If she was a Star Wars character, she would be the dark lollypop of the Sith.

I snap out of my thoughts and knock the door, even though it’s half open. ‘I could hear you from the end of the corridor, Elijah. You sound like you have a squirrel stuck in your wheels.’ He invites me in, speaking louder than necessary.

‘Yes I know, my chair is squeaking again, I thought I had it sorted. I was wrong… again.’ I should maybe be a bit embarrassed, but honestly I don’t care much anymore. I am too excited to hear what he will reveal. ‘I received an interesting email last night, from a certain Jules Hayes in Boston,’ I say, while approaching his desk.

‘I know, Eli, we talked a few days ago and your name came up.’ He turns his attention from whatever he was doing, takes off his glasses and focuses on me.

‘Was it you who convinced him to contact me?’ I enquire, without many periphrases.

‘Not exactly. Jules was telling me what happened to his daughter just a few months back; she had an accident and apparently she has recently woken up from a coma. I never mentioned you could be of help.’ So this is the personal business the guy talked about. Seems a fairly good motivation. ‘He must have figured it out by himself.’

‘Doctor Hayes said there was a personal motive behind his email, I guess that was it. It sounds to me like he’s very well motivated in financing my research, but I still have no idea what can I do to help.’

‘Well… Eli, she ended up pretty much like you, with permanent damage to her spine. I assume that he wants to give you a lab and a team to turn your knowledge into a design.’

‘Sounds fantastic so far… what’s the catch?’

‘Let me be completely frank with you.’ He fills the void left by my comment. I feel a monologue coming.

‘I’ve known Jules since we were rather young and he has always been a good friend. Hard to get along with, but honest. I am sure he has the best intentions behind this proposition but you need to understand something; he has become more a businessman than he is a scientist.’

I sense my face twisting into an ugly expression.

He continues. ‘Before you start over-thinking, I don’t mean it to sound bad, but bear in mind that for him this is as much a business opportunity as it is a way of helping people.’ Yeah, I was definitely doing the ugly face now.

‘So you are telling me that this would ultimately be a mistake?’ I ask, still feeling the sneer stuck on my face.

‘No Eli, I am just telling you that if you decide to stay here, the road will be easier, but it will take more time. You might never realise your research and there is no guarantee that some company won’t come up with the technology before we do.’ It’s the hard truth, and we both know it.

I take a second to ponder the whole situation. I am selling myself to some private corporation, but if I refuse things might end up exactly the same sooner or later, with a corporation patenting the treatment to make a profit. Ultimately, I am not the only one capable of achieving a functional prosthetic spine as a cure for paraplegia.

My thoughts are interrupted as Zoidberg fills the silence. ‘In other words, your best chance is to reach a compromise. This opportunity pushes your research years forward. Just don’t be disappointed if it is then used to make money, Jules doesn’t run a charity, after all.’

I look at him once more, my expression resolute. ‘I totally understand your point, Professor. Doctor Hayes asked me to meet him next week; I’ve decided to go.’ I pause and allow him to acknowledge what I’ve said. ‘Do you have any suggestions on how to approach him?’

He sits back and scratches his black beard. ‘He is a clever man; just be yourself. I think he will appreciate your boldness of character when it comes to research, but don’t try to overdo it: he will probably read right through you.’ As would anyone who is smarter than a potato, I add silently. It’s good advice, though.

‘Thank you, Sercan, I will keep that in mind; let’s hope everything goes well next week, then.’ I conclude and wheel my chair towards the exit.

‘Eli, before you leave, listen.’ I pause. ‘Go and meet him, get an idea of what you are dealing with. This is a big step, and you must make your own decision. Don’t allow the advice of other people to influence you, not even mine.’

There are no more words left to say, so I simply nod and wheel myself outside.

Not a World War | National Geographic

By Carl Haffat – Historian and Anthropologist

Peaceful tumults have been a central aspect of politics in the new millennium. First world countries have been embracing in diplomatic ballets since the beginning of the last century, often coming to the verge of igniting a third World War.

The 2020s were a difficult decade in particular; after a series of elections the parties supporting independent nationalist views across Europe gained power, pushing European countries to dismantle the idea of European Union as a unifying organism.

The problem at the time was the lack of vision of the politicians, a general myopia that failed to acknowledge the close connection between political and military cohesiveness. Their political choices also weakened military forces, offering Russia a good opening to satisfy its military ambitions.

Russia invaded Ukraine and pushed into Poland only a few years later. Simultaneously, Turkey left NATO in favour of better relationships with Russia and Iran. NATO was forced to fall back from their actions in the Middle East to support local troops in Eastern Europe and prevent a full-scale invasion.

Meanwhile, rebel forces in Syria and Iraq lost strength and failed to halt the rise of Islamic State. ISIS forces managed to create their own nation, what we now call the Islamic Nation (IN). Their government managed to form alliances with Turkey, China and Russia, although tensions have constantly threatened the borders.

Everyone started calling it World War III, naïvely and prematurely, especially after new atomic threats were made. Eventually a treaty was negotiated to stop the Russian advance and avoid mutual annihilation.

The world accepted the dominance of Russia over Belarus, Ukraine, Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia, whilst giving Poland its independence.

It goes without saying that this was agreed without the consent of the Eastern European countries involved.

After these events, oil prices became unsustainable for small countries; hence most of Europe imposed a ban on petrol-fuelled cars and forced industry to seek energy from alternative sources: sea, wind and solar energies.

The squalid nature of these historical changes led to a world that lives more and more separately and deals with the looming frictions with astonishing nonchalance.

The God of Diplomacy has claimed a huge victory over the God of War, and feasts in its victory.

Elijah Levin – Antwerp, Belgium

I’d been sitting in this cafeteria for a while now. I was actually expecting the meeting to be in some sort of fancy place with big wooden chairs and barely any disabled access. Instead, I am close to the University in what they like to call ‘No Nonsense Coffee’.

I know the bar well, so I went there early to get a table; plus it gave me a good excuse to entertain myself with some casual reading. I stepped right into my contemporary history phase, with a short essay on how countries avoided a third World War with an astute sequence of failures.

‘Excuse me, I believe you are waiting for us. I hope we are not late.’ Jules seems friendlier in person than he was via email. Apologizing as an introduction is a good way to humble yourself. His voice sounds firm though; precise, like that of someone who always knows exactly which words he is going to use next.

Turning around, I see that Dr Hayes is a fairly short man with a perfectly oval head and a big nose. He is probably about the same age as Professor Zeybek, but he looks younger and better dressed. His face and clothes remind me of a gentler and healthier version of the Penguin, the Batman’s kingpin.

‘You’re not late, Doctor Hayes, I just turned up early; I know this place, so I thought I would find a table and read the news,’ I respond.

‘Don’t get me started with the news, boy; people my age think we lived in the worst of times. Yet we witness horrible things happening every morning.’ He is right, even my parents used to continuously point out how their times were more difficult than mine, while day after day things were just getting worse. I used to call them naïve back in the day.

I decide to follow his line of thought and show my experience. ‘I tend to agree with you, Doctor. Since I was little, I’ve been hearing all about how unification was bad for our countries, and that now we are all stronger and proud of our national identity. Yet all I have seen, growing up, is the collapse of the economy worldwide.’ While I speak, he leans towards me, smiling in interest, with both his hands in his pockets.

‘People were too self-centred and ignorant to formulate predictions based on their decisions. They slowly dismantled the already weak cohesion between first-world countries…’ He walks around the table, placing himself in front of me. ‘Honestly, I get angry every time I think about it.’

‘We do live in upsetting times. I am glad that I don’t get to be in the middle of the conflicts, although in recent years it’s become difficult to keep in touch with the harsh realities of this world. That’s why I like to read about it,’ I say, putting down my magazine. ‘It’s a real pleasure to meet you in person, Doctor Hayes.’ A shake of hands is due before starting business; always a good premise.

‘How rude of me! It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Doctor Levin. This is my personal assistant, Philip.’ Assistant and bodyguard apparently: this guy likes to keep fit and doesn’t seem like he gets distracted too easily.

‘I have to admit I was expecting a much more exclusive venue for our meeting, with security and so on.’ The sight of his assistant feeds my curiosity about his attitude to security.

‘Oh no, nobody really knows me, invisibility is the best armour.’ He smiles, satisfied.

‘Besides, Philip is here, so I feel quite safe.’ Come on, you must reveal yourself now, don’t just laugh at me.

‘Well jokes aside, I assume you spoke to Sercan already.’ Jules cuts straight to the point.

‘We had a chat about it, yes,’ I reply. ‘But I think I should come to my own conclusions, and Professor Zeybek thinks so too. I want to know about your personal interest behind this arrangement.’

‘I am sure you are already aware that my daughter had a car accident a few months ago, one that almost cost her life.’ His facial expression gets more serious, reflecting pragmatism rather than grief. ‘Unfortunately, she cannot walk anymore, and judging by her condition she will never move again without assistance. You, of all people, understand this struggle.’

Blunt, but sensitive, well done, Pingu! My mind has already found a ridiculous name for him, from an annoying penguin that appeared on TV when I was little. Looking at him closely, they are quite alike!

I force myself to refrain from laughing at my own thoughts.

‘So you are hoping that my research and expertise is the key to letting your daughter walk again?’ I say, seriously. ‘I am sorry, but from my work to an actual solution there is a lot of science fiction to work out.’ He probably knows this, but I would rather say it myself than jump into a situation I might regret later.

‘I agree. The plan is to create a division in Osiris, funded by myself personally; the hope is that it will culminate in a technology that allows people like my daughter to walk like every other human.’ Pingu places his elbows on the table, with both hands holding his chin. ‘I assume that was your aspiration as well; am I wrong on this?’ His words sound like a challenge.

Good question: are you wrong? I am not sure myself. I don’t want to answer without choosing my words carefully. I give myself a few seconds before speaking.

He observes my face very carefully and I do not allow my feelings to emerge. ‘No, you are perfectly right… I won’t deny that I would much rather walk on my own feet. To be honest, I have some ideas on how to achieve this, but nothing I’ve shared with anyone before.’

I feel the urge to add something to my answer and break the spell that my words have summoned: ‘However, I happen to have lived like this long enough to accept my condition. I do not aspire to achieve this for myself anymore.’

‘You’ve thought really hard about this,’ He replies, with a hint of