Day 365
1.
By day 7, he had forgotten his name.
He checked his journal.
He remembered he had stolen the vaccine from the government. He remembered trying to destroy it over 3 days, the failed chemicals, the hole in his garden and the dirt under his nails.
He remembered injecting himself.
After this, his memories started to fade.
He would stay awake for 365 days. Never need to eat. And his brain would always be active.
The other side effects were:
No impulses, love, being loved or wanting.
He had highlighted the word ‘minor’ twice.
He opened his journal.
'I’m sorry Myself. I’m starting to feel like I’m changing. I haven’t slept or eaten and I don’t know where I am.'
He stopped writing.
From somewhere, a door slammed.
He looked at the page.
'I’m nobody. I am...'
He couldn’t finish.
He had stolen the vaccine because he didn’t want the government to have it.
But why?
He turned back to the start of his journal.
And the first page was blank.
2.
Sami was 22 and worked nights in a medicine warehouse.
He liked working nights as people didn’t expect as much from him when they couldn’t see his face.
He practiced his order. He would say 'can I have a coffee please?' and 'you too’. When the cashier said 'enjoy your meal’, he replied.
"I’m not eating."
He was still thinking about it 4 days later.
His mum had called twice. He would call her when he had something to say other than ‘fine’.
He had his lunch at 3am beside a vending machine that said SORRY when it didn’t have any.
He had started to reply.
On Tuesday, a man in a hoodie walked into aisle nine.
He had a white coat sleeve showing from his cuff.
He picked up a box of vials.
Sami gasped.
"Please."
He looked down.
Hospital clogs.
Left one had a dinosaur sticker.
"Okay." He whispered.
The man left.
Sami stood there until the automatic lights turned off.
He filled in an incident report.
No incident.
He hesitated.
Sorry.
The next day someone would ask him about the man.
They would ask for his face.
He would remember his shoes.
3.
The doctor had never stolen before.
He had a 6 year old patient needing 6 vials of medicine. The hospital wouldn’t pay and the pharmacy wouldn’t either. Dondizia said each vial was 11 months of a nurses salary.
He counted the vials in the warehouse.
6.
He counted the money in his pocket.
Didn’t have enough for one.
He counted again.
This is how he became a criminal.
By morning he had stolen the box.
By evening he was a fugitive.
By next week he was a secret doctor. He was treating children in kitchens, stairs and back rooms with only the light from his phone. He was getting paid in soup.
He learned to eat quickly.
And leave before anyone asked for his name.
But then...
Someone asked for his face.
The doctor stopped looking in mirrors.
He had a patient to save but someone had decided his face was valuable.
4.
The ex-government worker was looking at the shoes. The hitman found him.
He had been in the shop for 40 minutes.
He wasn’t going to buy anything.
He liked the young man at the till. He was staring at the counter.
Someone came up behind him.
"Where?"
He looked at the black shoe.
"Where?"
He moved to the side.
The man behind him pulled out his phone.
He looked at the screen on the leather.
"You’re here because of the vaccine. I stole it."
He tried to smile.
It looked genuine but his eyes were off.
The hitman blinked twice.
"C’mon."
The worker followed.
Outside there was a helicopter.
As they flew above the city, he looked down. People were disappearing. Cars were dots. Buildings were shapes. Eventually the shapes disappeared.
He felt nothing.
"Who are you taking me to?"
"Alvaro."
"Who is Alvaro?"
The hitman looked at him.
For a second he thought he would answer.
But he looked back out of the window.
5.
The man against the wall blinked twice.
Sami knew this meant a question.
"Describe the man who stole the box."I don't look at faces."Give it a go."
Sami swallowed.
"Hospital clogs. Left one had a dinosaur sticker."
The man waited.
"He said please. I think he was talking to the floor."
"Anything else?"
Sami thought.
"He was holding the box like it was heavy."
The strangers face changed.
Just a little.
"Thank you."
Sami looked up.
No one had ever thanked him.
The stranger left without writing anything.
Sami watched him leave.
Had he noticed his shoes were black?
Did anyone ever notice?
He called his mum that evening.
She answered on the first ring.
He couldn’t think of anything to say.
6.
The advert came out that month.
The doctor was treating a child in a kitchen above a laundromat when the TV flickered on.
A woman smiled.
CALM. 1 DOSE. 1 YEAR. $1.
Because wanting hurts.
The doctor looked at the screen.
The child’s chest rose under his hand.
The government approved Calm in 9 days. The minister said it was brilliant for the economy.
The woman smiled again.
The doctor looked at the empty vial next to the child.
11 months of a nurses salary.
$1.
What would happen if the girl took it?
Would she stop being scared?
Would she stop asking for her mum?
Would she still reach for his hand?
The advert showed a family having dinner.
The doctor turned off the TV.
In the dark the child opened her eyes.
"It hurt?" She asked.
He looked at the vial.
"I don’t know."
He had given her the first truthful answer.
7.
No one knew Alvaro dis Dondizia’s face.
No one knew his name.
The hitman knew.
Alvaro was the richest man in the world. But if he was standing behind you in a queue, you wouldn’t recognise him.
The government wanted the vaccine.
But Alvaro wanted something the vaccine alone couldn’t give.
Someone who couldn’t feel sad.
He needed someone to survive.
On day 365 the ex-government worker was in a room with Alvaro and a few masked men.
Alvaro’s mask was different.
The hitman leaned against the wall.
A subordinate was eating pasta.
"We can make a 1 year version using the blood. It’s safe enough for anyone."
The worker looked at his hands.
"The government will sell it for $1."
Alvaro asked,
"And you’re giving it away?"
The subordinate twirled the pasta on his fork.
"Of course."
The worker waited.
He had waited a year.
For the last side effect. For him to die suddenly. To feel something.
Nothing happened.
He had survived the vaccine.
Alvaro tipped his head.
His mask looked almost happy.
For the first time in a year the worker wondered if surviving had been a mistake.
8.
There is a reason I haven’t told you what Alvaro looks like.
I could have described his mask.
I could have described his clothing.
But I told you no one had ever seen his face.
And you believed me.
You believe a lot of things when they are confidently told to you in a story.
Alvaro dis Dondizia is the dog on your pillow.
You named him Alvaro.
When you asked for his surname you read it off the vial in your hand. Dondizia.
Dis Dondizia.
No one has seen his face because you have kissed it off.
He is the richest man in the world because he has never once gone without you.
The government is the cat on the windowsill. Watching. Wanting nothing. Eating anything we leave.
The helicopter is on the shelf. One blade is broken.
The pasta is what you didn’t finish at dinner.
The shoes are by the door.
And the hitman is leaning against the wall I am.
You asked me to write a crime story. Where no one wanted anything.
You said wanting hurts.
I tried.
I gave a man a year without wanting. No hunger, no sleep, no love. Made him unable to want anything and watched him walk into a shoe shop.
I hated him.
He was just a man looking at shoes with someone behind him.
I would rather be scared for you every single day, than calm.
The journal was mine.
I wrote it in a stairwell on the night I stole the box.
'I’m nobody. I am...'
I couldn’t finish it for him either.
Everything is made up except...
The vial.
It’s real.
Plain. White. Expensive.
It’s in you right now. Slowly working.
Sami is real.
I don’t know what he looks like. He wouldn’t look up.
He’s why I’m still here.
And the hitman.
He has been leaning against the wall since the first line.
I have been whispering this story to you so you wouldn’t wake.
So he would have time to listen.
He blinks twice.
He is looking at you.
At the faceless dog.
At the little shoes by the door.
"Where?"
I know what he means.
"You’re here about the medicine. She took it."
I smile.
It isn’t fake.
It hurts.
I’m happy.
I tip my head.
I move to the side so I’m out of your light. I look at you.
"C’mon."
Sleep reader.
I’m still deciding.
