Hyper bodyload; 20mg of DBT-dioxide, 50mg of Tiberian, 2*46g methytrexylate topped off with a fentanyl vape and a bucket of chicken wings. I was lying, injured, in an Airbnb whilst emergency health representatives kept me alive with a cocktail to keep me solid. As to how I got into this mess? It all started the day before…
My usual morning routine consisted of heavy exercise combined with rapid mathematical equations I would make up and solve on the spot. Decimal places, pumping iron, a plate of boiled eggs I had peeled by the side I would graze upon for nourishment with a little dish of salt to dip them in. I had hit a disaster zone, and so to keep in peak health would be beneficial to the tasks ahead of me.
Rewind another few days. I was wrapping up an interview and gone to my car, I got a message on my cell. Unknown number, a text message of a picture. I don’t need to look at the picture for longer than a second. I call the number back.
“What’s the story?”
Pause. Rewind two months previous. I am meeting my intelligent and beautiful girlfriend for a round of Spritz. We are talking about the connection between the different layers of the brain and how they have evolved over time.
“Do you think memories can transfer from parent to child?” she said.
“Of course. Where is the evidence where that isn’t the case?”
I said. She laughed, rolled her eyes and walked away.
We pause again. The image becomes magnified to the point of abstraction. We fast forward another few hours. Drinks on a balcony. Another few hours. A car drives down a country lane, the headlights so bright they blind the animals that creep in the night. The radio blasts absolute static. We rewind again. Fast forward. The tape becomes jumbled up and spills out of the player. I realise I am in the present and eating a bucketful of chicken wings that are so devoid of taste they somehow remove the taste of my own mouth from my body and so my tongue is left totally tasteless, hiding inside my head like a sponge filled with white paint.
A scientist looks at me over the console, grinning his acid burnt smile at me. His face is like an inside-out bag.
“The experiment is a success. You have reached…100 IQ.”
“Doc, don’t shit on me. You’re saying I doubled my IQ?” I say, flabbergasted. Had this doctor done what no teacher had said was possible?
“Pass me the mirror.” I say. The doctor shakes his head.
“Not yet, the swelling, it is too intense.”
“Pass me the mirror…now.” I whisper through old teeth. He obliges, finding a plastic backed hand mirror in his drawer of curiosities. He hands it to me and I flip it round. My forehead now bore a jagged line where the extra half-skull had been attached. My head was almost twice as round, twice as big.
“You must be careful. You must accept that the strength of your power is your weakness.”
“No. I refuse such calamity.” I say. Then I start to tug at the stitches along my forehead.
“What are you doing?”
“Something I should have done a long time ago. Adios, you piece of shit.” I say, flipping the top of my skull open and pulling away the prosthetic brain attached on top of m
