Chapter 2: His Will is Not His Own
"What would he do,
Had he the motive and the cue for passion
That I have? He would drown the stage with tears,
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech,
Make mad the guilty and appall the free,
Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed
The very faculties of eyes and ears."
--Hamlet
8:00 am, Parker-Smith residence, Queens, New York
May Smith woke up very suddenly with a tingling in the back of her head. She sat up in bed and looked to her right. Her husband was gone.
"Austin? Austin?" she called.
No, he can't be missing again, he can't, she thought. What if he's seriously hurt this time…?
Knock knock
May threw open the door. Two police officers and her husband were at the door. Dr. Austin Smith was wrapped in a towel.
"We found him—again. This time he was collapsed facedown near Wells Fargo Bank. We're really worried about him, Mrs. Smith. You really ought to get him checked out."
"I will, officers." May shook their hands. "Thank you for making sure he's alright."
The female officer shook her head as she walked out. "One of the most brilliant minds I've ever seen, Dr. Smith is," she said to her partner. "He's won the Nobel biology prize for his work on stem cells, you know. Quite handsome man, and he has a beautiful wife and two pretty daughters. Shame what's happening to him, really."
Austin staggered over to the living room sofa, and then collapsed. He was soaking wet—there had been a heavy rain last night.
"What's wrong?" May asked. "Here, just relax." She took his soaking wet black trench coat off and hefted his tentacles onto the sofa. "Just rest your tentacles on the sofa. There." May had her father's spidey-strength—it would be impossible for anyone else to lift the hundred pounds of metal dangling from her husband's back.
"Thanks." Austin removed his sunglasses and set them on the end table. His big brown eyes were bloodshot, and they had more red lines on them than a road map. But May adored them anyway.
"Austin, what's wrong with you?" May asked. "You haven't slept in ages, you're white as a sheet and your eyes are always red, and you go missing for days on end. What's happening to you?"
"I'd rather not talk about it."
"Please honey…" May sat next to her husband. She tenderly pulled up his shirt, resting her hands just above the steel harness and either side of the artificial spine that had welded to his back when he was fourteen, carefully avoiding the pink scar tissue. "Would you like me to rub your back?"
She is a bad influence, Brother!
She is trying to control and manipulate you!
We will take care of this.
You—will not—touch my wife. Or else.
Or else what?
You cannot harm us, they gloated. And you will not. It is because of us that you are famous and powerful.
It is clear that your human mind is incapable of knowing what's best for you.
Therefore we, the intelligent ones, will have to intervene before she brainwashes you further.
The upper left tentacle rose up and began to hiss at May.
"Austin, please don't hiss at me. If there's anything I can do to help…"
"You can't! Just let me alone, May!" Austin yelled. The tentacle popped out its blade and lunged at his wife.
May caught the arm and held it with all her speed and strength. "Austin, call me back when you can learn to control your tentacles!" She was out the room with superhuman speed. And worst of all, Austin couldn't tell her what was wrong—he didn't know himself.
What happened to me that time? He asked them. What happened all those other times?
We feel it's best you forget.
No! Don't you dare screw with my memory! I am your master and your source of power! You will tell me what happened last night, at once!
Very well, Brother. But remember—we know what's best for you.
1:00 am. Wells Fargo Bank, Manhattan, New York
Austin was in his pajamas and trench coat. His lower two tentacles had raised him off the ground, mindful of his bare feet. His upper right tentacle was holding the bank door, ripped right off the hinges. The tentacle tossed aside the door. Then the upper two stretched out, short-circuiting the alarms.
The tentacles carried Austin four giant steps, the pincers cracking the granite floor.
Now they were in front of the vault. It was then that Austin woke up. He shook his head. Where have they taken him this time?
Where am I?
Our GPS systems register us at Wells Fargo Bank, Manhattan, New York.
Okay…why am I at a bank?
Do not worry Brother. Stay still, and we will help you.
Austin's eyes focused. He saw the tentacles had carried him to the vault.
Wait a minute…you're not going to rob the bank…are you?
The tentacles practically snickered in his mind.
You have lost your job, Brother. You said it has been "outsourced."
What's outsourced?
Shut up, Number Two! We are telling Brother what to do. He is a weak and helpless human, and we are strong. So we will help him.
No! You can't—I won't! Put me down and stop this!
But Brother, without a job, you have no money. And without money, you cannot provide for your wife and daughters.
May was now working two jobs. His daughters Ottoline and Parker Marie, bless them, had also given up their after-school wages for him. It was a bit embarrassing, frankly, to be supported by your wife. It was a bit like being John Kerry, only much poorer.
No! I won't turn to crime—no matter what.
How many times have we told you that we know what's best for you?
How many times, Austin?
He couldn't give in to them. He wouldn't. His hold on them was already slipping. They had stopped calling him Brother, and now they were addressing him by his first name.
Why won't you let us help, Austin?
You would rather let your wife and daughters put themselves out for you than let us get money for you, is that it?
How can you be so selfish?
(The tentacle's favorite method of manipulation: the guilt trip.)
I don't need your help! I'll get another job. Many scientific institutions will want a Nobel Prize winning scientist on their payroll. I'll provide for them the normal way.
Can't you just listen to us, instead of being so damn obstinate?
Father listens to his assistants all the time. Look at how powerful and famous he is. He has all the money he needs.
And look where it got him.
(The comparison was another, but less successful method of manipulation.)
Can't you just be reasonable? We'll give you one more chance. Just tell us to yank off the door to this vault, and you'll always have enough to pay your bills.
"No, I won't!" Austin yelled aloud. He ran out of the bank—on his own two legs.
The arms screamed at him, so loud Austin felt his head was about to split in two.
He collapsed on the ground two blocks later, where the two police officers found him unconscious a few hours later.
"I will die before I let them take over my mind," Austin vowed aloud.
You just might, they replied.