“Good news, Mr. Miska! I believe you are a good match for our first trial!” Dr. Vijay said excitedly, “If successful, your vision will be completely restored.”
“If it isn’t successful?”
“You’re already blind, would no eyes make it any worse?”
“I guess not.” I resigned, “Where’d you get the eyes for a transplant?”
“A fellow researcher is dying. It’s nothing he can pass to you, but in the interest of progress he’s elected to donate his eyes in the name of progress.”
The operation was more of a success than anyone ever could have imagined. My body accepted both eyes, no infections, and once I was allowed to have my eyes uncovered, perfect vision. I could see my son and wife again. I was featured in a few ocular research papers, too, which was pretty cool.
But, there’s this thing, I’m hoping it’s a side effect of my drug cocktail to ensure I don’t reject the transplants. When it’s dark, I see quick, small movements in the very edge of my peripherals. I thought I was just being paranoid and staying up too late at night. Then, I was doing the dishes on a particularly overcast day. Every time I started scrubbing, I’d see a shiny motion around my garbage disposal. I flushed the drain with hot water.
Something slimy shimmered as is swirled in the tiny abyss. Crrrrrt! I slammed the switch on and the blades started spinning and grinding. It seemed to be running without any obstructions. I went to jam a wooden spoon in to see if I was just seeing old built up crud when what can only accurately be described as a black sea anemone lurched it’s tentacles from the drain.
I tried to ram them back into the grinding blades with a wooden spoon. The blades ripped the spoon from my hand and slung it from my hand. The writhing mass wiggled and sprawled in the sink. The spoon hadn’t touched them at all. I dialed my doctor, and then they were gone. The next day my meds were adjusted, apparently a small fraction of people get hallucinations when using that particular cocktail.
I gave my brain a few days to adjust to the new medication. The phantom appendages lessened over that time, and were completely gone for a few weeks. My life returned to normal, I had great eyesight and everything was looking up.
I was working on a new financial report at work when a slimy purple tentacle slid around my computer monitor. I stabbed it with my letter opener. It being my monitor. The tentacle slipped towards me and reached towards me, the blunt point aimed at my eyeball. It jutted out sharply and went through my head. I fell out of my chair and into the hall of cubicles behind me. Perfectly fine, not so much as a drop of otherworldly goo.
The doctors saw no reason why I started having the hallucinations again. This time I was referred to a shrink. I received a battery of new drugs, but the tentacles never waned. They became more frequent, constantly reaching and stretching for me. If I open a can of fruit, it’s burgeoning with a twisted mass of tentacles. When I go turn in for the night, they slimey purple masses squiggle and writhe out from under my mattress.
They started coming from more and more places. Power outlets, jutting from flat surfaces. One evening, my date yawned and a long purple tentacle slid out towards me. That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. I took my soup spoon and excused myself to the bathroom.
I can’t see the tentacles anymore, but now I can feel something cold and slimy curiously moving across my arm.