Sage Endurance

He’d walked by the alleyway twice before noticing it was even there. It was a narrow space between two brick buildings, stacked with discarded pallets and other rejected city detritus. He checked the address from the email again and approached a nondescript door marked with an 8. The 8 had come partially detached and was sitting mostly on its side.

Altan had spent a brief stint in prison directly out of high school, minor charges from an honest mistake, but the system was broken and corrupt and he had just been too poor to fight it. After his release he had a rough time finding work, but an easy time finding drugs and alcohol. He spent the next four years in and out of rehabs, sponsored and supported by his mother, until she’d finally had enough and she cut him out of her life.

Surviving on medical studies he found on Craig’s List wasn’t how he imagined starting off his early 20’s, but it certainly paid the bills and allowed him time he needed to get back on his feet.

“Can I help you?” a face appeared from a crack in the door.

“I’m here about the medical study,” Altan said.

“Which study?”

“The one I applied for was for individuals who have sought treatment for drug or alcohol abuse,” Altan suddenly felt uneasy admitting his failures while standing in the alley.

“Name please,” said the face.

“Altan Janus. I had an appointment at eleven.”

The door opened wide and a man wearing a white coat and stethoscope ushered him inside, “come in, come in, Mr. Janus. We’ve been expecting you. You are taller than I expected. That’s good. Come in, I’m Dr. Ka-Shing.”

The inside of the facility was much more like the clinic Altan was used to: sterile white wall and medical equipment beeping and buzzing through glassed windows.

“There wasn’t a lot of information in the classifieds,” Altan commented as Dr. Ka-Shing directed him to his office.

“No, no. We were only recently granted approval for human trials and the project we are working on is quite top secret, but I can’t get into much of that until we have you sign some release and nondisclosure forms.”

Altan sat and worked through the forms, most of them were the basic ones he had completed at other medical trials: health information, statistical information, and next of kin. He listed his mother even though she was unlikely to take a call from him. This time there were several voluminous legal documents.

“Do I need to read these?”

“Those are just basic liability documents. You know the kind, indicating you are entering this trial voluntarily and you may exit at any time.”

Altan signed the forms.

“Perfect,” said Dr. Ka-Shing who continued in an off sing-song kind of tone that Altan would usually reserve to talking to small children, “let me tell you about the study. Welcome to Sage Endurance; we specialize in several different areas of medical longevity. That is: treatments to extend a person’s life. There are two stages to your trial, the first is an experimental drug that removes any genetic coding from you sequence for drug and alcohol dependency. We’ll take some vitals and samples from you for research on our end, administer the treatment, and then perform some basic follow ups. We want you to come in to the clinic five days a week for the next six weeks for regular stress tests; we also want you to maintain a regular balanced diet and workout regimen. Any questions before we get started?”

“I haven’t seen the compensation yet. I need to make sure I can afford my rent.”

Dr. Ka-Shing wrote something down on a post-it note and slid it over to Altan, “this is what you will receive weekly and at the end of the first stage.”

“Oh, wait, are you sure that’s correct. That’s a lot of zeros.”

“Our investors are eager to ensure the best outcomes. If the treatment is a success it could significantly impact human mortality rates for the better.”

“What happens in stage two?”

“Due to the nature of our disclosures, we insist that you complete stage one before we move into discussing stage two, but I can assure you that both stage one and stage two have been thoroughly tested and are completely safe and minimally painless.”

“Let’s get started.”

Dr. Ka-Shing spent two hours assessing Altan and taking blood, urine, and saliva samples. Every now and again he would stop and speak into a handheld recorder things like, “good muscle tone, strong jawline, and quick reflexes.” They took x-rays, performed vision and hearing tests, and at the end of the assessment they brought in a large syringe filled with a silvery purple liquid.

“You’re going to feel a small pinch,” said Dr. Ka-Shing.

The needle entered just above Altan’s tailbone and it did feel like a pinch, but more like someone was pinching his bones.

“Alright, you are all done for the day. We’ll see you back here tomorrow at 9am. In this packet is your weekly allowance for food and a gym pass. We want you to follow these guidelines as strictly as you are able.”

Altan’s first night at home was a little rough. He tossed and turned in his sleep and sweat through the mattress, but by the time he woke up all of his underlying desires for drugs and alcohol were gone. It was a night and day difference.

Over the next six weeks Altan’s new diet and exercise routine were paying off. He looked and felt better than he had in years. His growing muscles were pulling tight in his clothing, he had easy clean bowel movements, he was less tired, and he certainly enjoyed flexing at himself in the bathroom mirror.

“The prior six weeks have been fully successful, Mr. Janus. There is no remaining trace of any type of addiction in your genes. We are ready to start stage two of the trials. Stage two involves a minor procedure that extends your natural life expectancy. You’ll be awake during the procedure and there will be a little pain involved, but nothing you shouldn’t be able to handle. We’ve got the room prepped and ready for you, do you have any questions?”

“I get the final payment once the procedure is complete?” Altan asked.

“Yes, in fact, our investor has been so pleased with the account he has decided to double your compensation. Sign this paper and the money will be transferred to your accounts before we begin,” Dr. Ka-Shing slid a document over to Altan who signed without hesitation.

“Great, that’s all done then. Let’s proceed.”

Altan donned a medical gown and laid on the procedural table where Dr. Ka-Shing adjusted a strap around his waist, both feet, arms, and across his forehead.

“We don’t want you falling off the table,” said Dr. Ka-Shing.

The lights were dimmed and there was a mechanical hum to the room. Dr. Ka-Shing pulled out several pieces of medical equipment and started making marks on Altan’s jaw, forehead, and temples.

Dr. Ka-Shing stepped out of the room briefly and when he returned it was with another medical gurney. An elderly man was strapped down to it.

“Who is…” Altan was cut off by Dr. Ka-Shing.

“If I could have you bite down on this please,” Dr. Ka-Shing put a rubber tube into Altan’s mouth.

“Alright, this is the painful part, Mr. Janus. Unfortunately I need you to be awake for it. The process of moving over our investor’s conscious from his body into yours requires a fully functioning and aware brain.”

Altan mumbled something through the rubber tubing.

“Yes, indeed, you have signed all the appropriate paperwork,” said Dr. Ka-Shing.

Altan pulled at the straps on his arms and feet.

“Please do try to relax Mr. Janus,” said Dr. Ka-Shing who pushed the air bubbles out of a large needle and then held it up to Altan’s temple, “you’ve taken such good care of this body. We don’t want any harm to come to our investor’s property.”

Altan felt the pressure and a searing pain as the needle perforated his skull and Altan’s vision filled with static fuzz before his conscious went blanked out like a bursting lightbulb.

Two weeks later he was walking down the street, in black suit and tie and surrounded by body guards, when a woman approached him.

“Altan? Oh my gods, Altan Janus, I haven’t seen you since high school. You are looking good,” said the woman.

“I’m sorry, young lady, I think you have the wrong person. Though I do appreciate the compliments. If you’ll excuse me. I’m running late to the funeral of a dear friend of mine. An investor, you might say. Someone who really changed my life.”