Soul Survivor

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Originally presented on Wed, 2006/08/09

What is life but a journey along an unmapped route toward a certain and inevitable destination? What would you do to tread a different path than the one you have walked so far?


Soul Survivor

by Dr. Richard K. Phillips
 

At sixty-two one ought to know what one's goals in life are and what chance one has of achieving them. I think I finally have my goals in reach.

I've lived a long and fairly fruitful life; though I have never found a life-partner, I have mentored several young people starting out their careers and they serve very well as surrogate children. And one of them will be instrumental in helping me reach my long-delayed goal.

My degrees are in biochemistry and psychology with an M.D. tacked on to enable me to do the research that most interested me. I considered it to be an investigation into the reality of the human soul but others have labeled my field neuropsychochemistry.

At some cost to my net worth, I have avoided the pitfalls of commercial drug development and have concentrated on the realm of pure research which has made it neccessary to publish findings through the universities that have funded my work. A Google search for my field or my name will turn up numerous papers on various aspects of brain chemistry and the dependence of behavior and intellect on the chemical functions of the brain.

This will be my last research paper, though it is not in the proper form for publication in professional journals. Perhaps it can be published somewhere. It will probably be taken for fiction in any case.

I've left a lot of my most important conclusions out of my published research. Psyche of Greek legends, whose name meant "soul," also names most scientific fields concerned with human consciousness. Is consciousness the same as soul? I believe that I've found evidence that consciousness is only the perceived emanation of a brain/soul interaction and that the real soul is a deeper identity. I have not published these intimations because the established neuropsychiatric consensus is that consciousness plus brain equals self-identity.

The soul remains elusive but I believe I have found her footprints.

Directly across the university courtyard from my office, a two-year-old girl lies in a profound and persistent coma. Brain scans show no continuing activity in the regions of her brain associated with consciousness but contrariwise also show no corresponding physical impairment of the brain.

She breathes, she opens her eyes and if food and drink are put to her lips, she will imbibe. She responds to the touch of her parents' hands and the sound of their voices with wordless murmurs and aimless movements. However long she lives, her chances of awakening are slim to the point of invisibility.

She came to this state by one of those tragedies of life, the accidental drowning. The details are unimportant but she was technically dead for some eight minutes before being resurrected by well-intentioned medical personnel. Through my research, I have arranged to have her kept in the university hospital and not consigned to one of those warehouses for empty human bodies.

I believe that while she was dead, her soul fled her body and without it, her brain, though functional, cannot maintain consciousness. I propose to cure her by supplying her with a new soul.

Mine.

In my research, I've discovered a drug I call psychognostithane. It has several street names including "Sky Blue", "Noggin" and "Phane." Young and reckless individuals use this drug to achieve various sorts of high, depending on dosage. A mild dose produces results similar to traditional psychedelics like LSD and mescaline. A larger dose results in what experimenters have labeled "an out of body experience." Massive doses can produce neural impairments, psychosis, coma or death.

I believe that psychognostithane loosens the connection of the soul from the brain, attenuating the consciousness. I believe it does this by chemically opening certain channels in the brain, interfering with the process called consciousness. Even while sleeping, the brain maintains a form of consciousness; indeed, even under most sedative drugs and during most coma states, the brain maintains a thread of consciousness. This thread is what anchors the soul to the body.

In the case of the little girl in Room 413, death, however temporary, has severed that connection. Her soul cannot return to her body and has gone on to wherever souls go when they are through with bodies. This I believe but do not know for a fact.

I do have anecdotal evidence supporting an hypothesis that free souls exist and can enter otherwise vacant bodies, especially if those bodies have open brain channels because of near-death experiences or moderate doses of psychognostithane.

I have previously achieved cures of persistent coma states with this drug. In one case, the patient's previous personality appeared to be restored. In two cases, the patient recovered consciousness but had to be re-educated completely, perhaps due to brain damage. Or to habitation by a new soul.

The fourth case proved most interesting because the patient awoke with a complete and functioning consciousness but with a personality totally unlike the one that had previously dwelled in the body. As if a soul that had lived in some other body had moved in and established a new personality. This new person had difficulty accessing the memories of the original person but had phantom-like impressions of what might have been a previous life. I believe that this unconventional explanation is in fact the correct one.

I propose to perform an experiment to test my theories. My student, one of my mentored young people who is now a staff psychiatrist at the university hospital, will administer a moderate dose of psychognostithane to my young patient in the next building--directly across from my office window not more than sixty feet away at precisely 10 a.m.

At the same time, I shall take a massive dose of the same drug, enough to certainly cause my death. To insure the proper outcome, I have also arranged an intravenous feed of potassium salt in a concentration sufficient to stop my heart seconds after I begin to feel the effects of the first drug. The parents have consented to an experimental treatment involving psychoactive drugs but they do not know of my personal stake in this risk.

Needless to say, I will be unable to repeat this experiment if it turns out to be unsuccessful.

I don't really owe anyone an explanation for why I am taking such an extreme course of action--committing a very complicated and bizarre suicide some would say. As I said in my first paragraph, I am of an age to feel the need to have my life goals within my reach if not in my certain grasp.

All of my life, I have felt myself to be a misplaced soul. My secret self has always been female, though I have lived 62 years in a male body. I originally took up the studies that resulted in my life's work and led ultimately to this moment in an effort to understand myself and my feelings. I've never crossdressed nor seriously considered the half-measure of surgical solutions.

Perhaps I am deluding myself and I shall simply die. No matter. My other accomplishments, the dozens of students I have mentored, the good I have done in this world will live on. I am content.

Even if my plan succeeds optimally, I shall probably never remember this life--a life, even with its joys, bereft of that feeling of proper self that I crave. Even if I do not remember, I will know that I am me and not someone other than myself.

I have not decided whether I will hit save after typing these notes. I have made them more for myself than for anyone else. Perhaps no one will read this record even if I leave it behind. I will never know.

One of the child's names means "soul" in a European language. Unscientifically, I consider this a good omen.

At precisely 10 a.m. begins my last minute on this earth as a man.

Now.
 


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Comments

interesting

worth a try anyways

How many years until the

How many years until the doctor starts taking notes again ?

Karen

Did he or didn't he?

Jamie Lee's picture

That question is left to be answered by the reader, providing their own beliefs as to it being possible to transfer souls from body to body. And what constitutes a soul.

The manner in which this story ends makes it a nontraditional ending, an ending which is spelled out in black and white. Is it possible the transfer worked so the child is not left in a brain dead state for as long as machines keep her alive? That is what many would want, as they would hate to see a child left in such a state.

But the opposite is also possible in that his soul traveled wherever souls travel, and machines continue the live of the little girl.

But suppose that instead of his soul entering the child's body, a soul had been waiting for a way into the child's body. And in that moment the drug was given the child, that soul slipped into the body before his could.

This story is complete as is, ending in a way which requires the reader to draw their own conclusions. Should it continue then it would be necessary to be very clever in the next writing so that it doesn't end up being nothing more than a transfered soul telling her life's story.

Personally, the story has a nice ending.

Others have feelings too.

This popped up in the “random solos feed . . . .”

Emma Anne Tate's picture

Interesting story, fascinating comments after. And interesting to see the author’s take on the story from further out.

Funny thing was, I had been noodling a story that had a very related premise. Lordy! I can’t seem to stop myself from stumbling across ideas that better authors have already tackled!!!

Emma

Lovely story of yearning and goal making.

Another ending.

"The Doctor asked that this be given to our little lost one at 10am." The intern stood and waited til the nurse came off the phone.

"Well I'll need a signed form, you can't just go injecting people without the proper paperwork" The nurse intoned, turning back to her monitor and ignoring the intern's pleas.

The intern looking at his watch noted it was 9.58 so ran through the college to knock on the Doctor's door. It was unlatched and swung open to reveal the open journal and the doctor lying face down across the page, the syringe, discarded on the floor, unnoticed. The clock on the wall showed 10.02.

"Oh well, it's just as well we didn't inject the little one, the results wouldn't have been objectively noted anyway."

Moral of the story, never rely on anyone else if your life is at stake - particularly a nurse with a chip on her shoulder.

Good story. And brilliant use of the note format.

This was good. This was not at story directly dealing with the events within the story. Instead, the readers are reading the note the doctor left behind. This was brilliant use of the note format. Very brilliant. I hope you may continue this story. Of what happens next. Because, this story does have potential to be much more.

Can I Play?

Fear gripped me as I opened my eyes. Everything felt . . . different. Gone was the incessant fatigue I had felt ever since my testosterone production had started diminishing nearly a decade ago.

My now tiny hands opened and closed, and then rubbed at my eyes. Everywhere I touched on my new body felt incredibly smooth.

I started to cry softly as unbelievable happiness overtook my spirit.

I would live life much differently in the form I was meant to have. Given my hard gained wisdom I certainly would avoid many of the pitfalls that had been the hallmark of my former self.

No more guilt or shame. I’m a girl, and that will change everything.

Out in the hall I heard a number of people coming quickly down the hall.

“Doctor!” a female breathed excitedly from about thirty feet away. “It’s a miracle. I was monitoring his vitals at my station, expecting another quiet night to pass like so many before. And, suddenly he woke up. The little boy in 314 -- that we thought was lost forever -- has returned.”

I'm certain you wouldn't have taken this twist, but that's why you're Erin and I'm Angela.

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Good start

Long time lurker on the site. I think the story flows well and the basic idea should allow a good amount of creativity. I like your writing style in that coming from first person, you are providing insight into character background and motivation. Bravo.

Interesting Approch

Some might just consider it a prolog, but I'd say it's a different, interesting, and well-told approach to the concept of a soul swap story.

Hmm.

WillowD's picture

This story was first presented 11 years ago. She may already be taking notes.

Thanks

erin's picture

That's exactly what I intended the ending to convey. :)

Hugs,
Erin

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

Oh come on...

kristina l s's picture
..You can't just stop there...that is...so.....rude. I mean, what... yes, exactly.What Happens!!!! Hmmm! Kristina

How?

erin's picture

I would say I wouldn't know how to continue it but Aardvark made the attempt below. What do you think of it? :)

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

Soul

Phillipina K. Dick?

I opened my eyes. It immediately registered that I was smaller. Looking down, I discovered myself to be that aforementioned two-year old girl. Naturally, I was surprised to recall my former life, but that was a fortunate error, a "lucky" miscalculation I could live with. Indeed, my only complaint at the moment was the stench of urine from my midsection, where the hospital staff had affixed a diaper.

I sat up and waved my arm to a passing nurse, hoping to attract her attention. I was successful in this. Not wishing to alarm her unnecessarily by speaking, I merely pointed to the offending cloth. As I waited for her to renew my diaper, I had my first glimpse of my new body, it's tiny hands and feet and the expanse between, a place I resolved to explore at my earliest convenience.

My mother, I inferred her to be, screamed when she saw me and brought me to her chest. Reminded that I was hungry, I tapped her breast. Soon it was released to me. Hunger and thirst now quenched, I lay back and went to sleep. All in all, it was an exciting day, and I will write a paper someday when my hands are larger.

"Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony."

Mahatma Gandhi

Giggling now

WillowD's picture

This is an awesome continuation to the story. And I am totalling imagining what would have happened if she had spoke.

Totally aside from her recent medical history, most parents expect a baby's first words to be "Mama" or "Papa". "Would you please change my diaper?" would be so totally unexpected first words.

Ha!

erin's picture

You deciphered my tribute name and did a good job of capturing the voice I had been writing in. :) I really never had the intention of continuing, though. For me, the story is about motivation, not outcome.

I do have a sort of sequel in mind, however. :)

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

Covers the basics..

kristina l s's picture
Yes it does. Not quite in keeping with the tone of the lead in perhaps. But still not bad, if too short and of a perspective slightly different from the original. Different authors, word choice etc..Is there a movie with Harrison Ford? Or.. Kristina

Okay, I'll give it a shot.

erin's picture

Crying, the child awoke. The woman she recognized as her mother gathered her close and cried with her. Her father wrapped his arms around both of them and also wept. The doctors and nurses had to pry them apart.

Soon, clean and content, little Marie Alma Tourney fell into a natural sleep, each tiny fist enclosed in a parent's hand. Incomprehensible dreams did little to disturb her, she knew where she was and who held her hands.

Knowing was enough. Understanding might come as she grew or forgetfulness, either would suit her well for the world was new and she was new along with it.


Still, I prefer to end it where I did the first time. :)

- Erin

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

The right ending

I agree with you, Erin. To continue it would end the mystery. Some mystery in life is a good thing.

About the names, I kept looking at the first name, but couldn't make the connection. Now I'm looking at Marie Alma Tourney and thinking it should also be familiar, but I can't make the connection to it either. One of my more blonde days!

All in all an interesting tale, thanks!

Karen J.
>^..^<


"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin

Names

erin's picture

Names in my stories are usually inspired or carefully crafted. Marie = bitter. Alma = soul. Tourney = contest but also suggests journey and taking turns. Bitter soul contest. :)

- Erin

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

I was going to let this sit..

kristina l s's picture
But...The reason we read an authors work is to get an idea of their take on whatever is being floated. It is of course the authors right to end wherever they wish. Everyone does it to some extent. But this ended mid stream. There are two floated endings, I could think of at least 5 variations. Child awakens with interloper adult personality trapped...Child awakens with adult personality and child cowering in corner. Child awakens with off-sider wondering did Prof survive/transfer or just die. Neither awake and Prof goes into coma, but can talk to child, wherever they are. Both die, only to be reborn and meet many years later with a strange atraction building between them. And...But if I did it, it would not be Erins story. I am not the author. It is Erins right to finish where she will. But it seems unfinished. At least to me. Kristina

Story endings

erin's picture

It ended exactly where I intended to end it from the moment I started writing it. :) It's an autograph, Dr. Phillips could not continue the story himself. If you can imagine five different endings, or consequent stories then the story worked.

But the story wasn't intended to be about whether the doctor succeeded but about how anyone could come to such a decision and take such a risk. If the story feels unfinished to you then perhaps I did not do a good enough job building up to the ending so that it actually felt like one. I'll think about that, thanks. :)

- Erin

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

Story Endings

The ending was abrupt and I, too, remember wanting to see those few extra words to see if she made it ok ("...at 10:00 AM, Marie Alma Tourney awoke and looked around, causing a temporary stir in ICU where no one had held out much hope for her recovery. Her parents arrived and, within a week, she returned home."), but I didn't really have a problem with what went down. Whether she succeeded or not wasn't really the thrust of the story.

My tongue-in-cheek add-on was to satisfy a mischievous urge. In fact, an entire story written as a stuffy, analytical man-turned-girl could be a hoot.

Aardvark

"Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony."

Mahatma Gandhi

On rereading

erin's picture

I agree that the ending is too abrupt. I want readers to want to know if Dr. Phillips succeeded, that's not the problem. The fault is that I short changed the reader in explaining the motive. I devoted only a paragraph to it, really. Not enough, it should have been about half as long as the rest of the story.

I posted the story too quickly. If I had let it rest a week before posting, I might have noticed the lack. I may rework the story slightly for republishing.

And Doug, I got your joke the first time. :) It would be a hoot to do a story in such a style. :)

- Erin

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

Absolutely precious...

I wonder if I could have an out of body experience and find the female body I need so much...Then I wouldn't be just a cosmetic man-made creation of a female, I'd be female.

Anyway Erin, Aardvark's, and your additions fit right into the ending of this beautiful short story very well. Thanks you two for sharing your ideas.

With love 'n' hugs,

Barbara Lynn Terry

"If I have to be this girl in me, Then I have the right to be."

"With confidence and forbearance, we will have the strength to move forward."

Love & hugs,
Barbara

"If I have to be this girl in me, Then I have the right to be."

soul survivor

very nice story ill take a crack at a finish.

At 10 am i administered the drugs that would end my life as a male on this world, at 10.01 my soul exited and i felt myself raise up as i turned around to look at my prone body just laying there.

I then floated across to the little girl that was across from my window. for a few minutes i just hovered there looking at the little girl that i was soon to become, i knew what i needed to do so i gradually lowered myself to the tiny form laying uncocious on the bed.

as i tried to enter the little body i felt a presence there that would not allow me to enter the body. i then realised that the little girls souls was in fact still there, but it couldnt reconnect because of the fact she had been dead, there was something stopping her from regaining the link she so desperately needed to reconnect.

i knew then i could not take her body and deny her the chance to regain the chance to live again. i took pity on her and her parents as to the anguish they had already been through so i did the most descent thing i could think of. i told the little girl how to re-establish the link she so desperately needed but did not know how.

after a few minutes there were a few odd beeps from the monitor she was attached to. i knew that because i had commited suicide that i would not go to heaven, but the last thing i could do was give the little girl back to her family.

as the beeps were recognised the doctors and nurses came into the room and rushed to the little girls side, brain activity was increasing and they were working to try and get her to regain conciousness.

after about another 10 minutes i heard the words that i needed to hear. all the staff were amazed as the little girls first words were "mommy".

just then a bright light appeared and i knew i had to take it, so i turned towards the light and made my last exit from this world knowing through my act of selfishness towards the little girl had given me the chance to go to heaven.

as i started towards the light i heard what my ears could only have imagined, from the bed a little girls voice "Fank u"

I almost died of a heart attack

the story felt so much like an autobiografy that when the athour killed off our doctor. and ended it I wasnt sure if I was reading ficton or a diranged suicide note, thanks to the line "This will be my last research paper, though it is not in the proper form for publication in professional journals. Perhaps it can be published somewhere. It will probably be taken for fiction in any case." the first few posts and responces from the autor clearified that for me.
thank god

anyway good job and thank you to the author and keep writing

Jenny

Thanks for the compliment

erin's picture

There used to be a fad of such "final thoughts" stories in SF back in the forties/fifties era. I tried to capture that immediacy and veracity of the best ones. Perhaps I succeeded to a degree. Thank you.

- Erin

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.