Great Glass
By Thomas McClure
Artwork by Darcy Link
Today was the day he had been waiting for. Fifty years of solitude and today was the day it was all going to pay off for the Doctor.
At age twenty he proposed his idea; he would be locked away in a self-sustaining vault for a total of fifty years with nothing but pure education to keep him occupied, with the only interaction with the outside world being the times he sends out his work to be marked. Fifty years of studying, and in that time he had completed degrees in every major field. The good Doctor considered himself quite the genius, no one else had undergone such an extensive educational experience before. In his eyes, he was truly the perfect being.
The lift hummed to life. The Doctor stood tall, proud, and ready to meet with the official assessor of his project, the first person he would interact with after fifty years of solitude. A chill ran up his back, he wasnโt sure if it was the pressure of the lift racing upward of if he was getting anxious. Perfect beings donโt get anxious, what was he thinking, he should instead practice in his head what he should do. Thatโs a good idea.
He imagined the doors opening and the assessor standing before him. He had only heard about her so he wasnโt sure what she looked like; doesnโt matter. He pictured a generic woman and continued. Sheโd say something welcoming and he would reply, very simple, he can do that, easy as ฯ. He didnโt want to mess this up, but he was sure he could do this; he was the best example of a perfect human after all.
The lift slowed down, then it stopped. His heartbeat was racing. He wasnโt used to this happening. Was he having a heart attack? No, thatโs not what they feel like. Heโs just nervous, itโs normal; heโs normal. Heโs fine.
The doors pulled apart. He was immediately hit with fresh air and the scent of perfume. Heโs knees went weak but he still stood. The air was exhilarating, it reminded him of grass and hills and trees and sunshine, he didnโt realise how much he had missed it all until now. He felt compelled to race out and find the source of this air, he felt like an addict recognising the cause of their addiction. The perfume wrapped around him like a lover, he felt his eyes watering as he became intoxicated with this exotic taste. It danced around him, over him, under him, and onto him, trying to lick its way into him. He was frozen like glass, and like a perfect sheet of glass there were no cracks, no way for the sweet flavour to pierce him. He was better than all that.
His eyes adjusted. His body already felt bruised from an unfamiliar attack, tired and worn from the exhausting experience. He could now see that there was a man and a woman standing before him. One must be the assessor he had read about, the other was likely an assistant. Or was it the other way round. Thinking back he couldnโt quite remember if he had read that the assessor was a woman or if he had merely assumed it, or pondered it, or dreamt it. His gut started to turn, the two werenโt saying anything, staring at him, expecting him to make the first move, and so he was frozen. He had to stick to his first thought, heโs a genius of course his first thought would be the right one, right?
His heart was racing, wobbling, stumbling, and falling. He could feel a voice telling him he canโt do this, he needs to sit down, to rest, and to sleep, but he had to ignore them. He was a perfect being, he has no anxious voices in his head.
He realised just how much his whole body ached. His stomach was trying to force his lunch up, his eyes wanted to surrender, his lungs had shrunk, his cheeks felt heavy, his feet cold, and his mind felt overburdened. He could feel his pulse in his forehead, his ears, and his fingertips. That couldnโt be right. His balance stuttered as his feet shivered. He must have looked very odd to these people, a nightmare, he was a perfect being he couldnโt look any less than a complete success; his image was everything.
He gasped as a chill ran down his side; sweat. His lips were dry and his cheeks were red. He had to escape this situation. No! He had to go on, he is a success, and he must prove it.
He looked to the woman and put out his hand. It was sweaty and shaking and he feels like he pulled it forward a bit too slowly. He looked up to her eyes, he couldnโt bring himself to smile. She looked concerned.
โUh,โ he started, his voice cracked, he tried to say โNice to finally meet youโ but nothing came out. He hadnโt spoken in fifty years.
The man moved between the good Doctor and the woman and announced he was the assessor. The Doctor felt like an idiot, stepped back and tried to apologise. He shuddered and felt his whole body surrender, his heart on the verge of popping.
The assessor reached forward and took his hand to shake.
Shattered.
With just a touch it was all over. The warm soft feel of human skin. They connect like a needle to a vein, a drug desperately needed. Textured fingers grasp as another takes control, teasing embrace, holding tight, and rousing connection. Fatally enchanted, overdosing each nerve, smothering the system. Deprived of such relief for fifty years, his hidden hunger now revealed ravaged his soul. He surrendered to the flesh. Imperfection consumed. He fell to the ground in tears, his mind fainted and body broken; shattered like glass.
All from a touch of physical connection.
The End
By Thomas McClure
Word Count: 992