Unthought Experiment
by Michael Jess Alexander
part 1
I can’t keep this a secret anymore. I have to tell someone, so I’m telling you — a random person on the Internet.
I’m not stupid. I don’t want to get myself or my father in trouble, so I’ve taken care to change certain details, such as names, in order to protect our identities. Despite these minor changes, the events I am about to relate really did happen. It is my hope that sharing them will absolve me of some guilt.
Anyway, let me start with my father. He is a scientist. I won’t say who he works for, obviously, but I will say that he answers to some very important, very powerful people.
My father works at home in our basement, which has been made into his laboratory. I’ve only been inside his lab a few times. He has invited my younger brother and me twice to view his work. These were instances when he was particularly proud and wanted to share what he had accomplished. And then, of course, there is the time I snuck in, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
The lab is electronically locked. The only entrance is through a steel door, opened via coded keypad. It’s a state-of-the-art facility straight out of the movies. His employers spare no cost in facilitating his work. This is because my father is a certified genius and is quite productive. I do need to be careful to avoid giving away enough clues for you to figure out who he is, but I feel comfortable letting you know that just about everyone relies on his work. You most likely have one or two items in your home that would not exist if it weren’t for my father.
I want to give you a better idea about my father as a person. He’s always been reserved, his work never far from his mind. However, ever since the incident, he’s been especially distant. He does act like his old self occasionally — showing interest by asking my brother or me about our day — but I can tell it’s just that: an act. When I look in his eyes, I see a man overcome by guilt who is putting on the best façade he’s capable of for the benefit of my brother and me. When he’s not propping up an image of relative contentment, he spends most of his time cloistered in his lab.
The incident took place about a year ago, near the end of my sophomore year in high school. My father had been hard at work on a project, leaving his lab only when he could no longer delay the demands of his biology. This was a project unlike any other. I could tell from my father’s uncharacteristic demeanor.
While he never allowed Steven or me to enter his lab without express permission, he became particularly strict on this point. Under no circumstances were we to even set foot near the entrance. I figured he was near a breakthrough and imagined my brother or me ruining his progress with the careless bump of a table or by tripping over and disconnecting a power cord. We placated him with the repeated promise that we would obey his instruction.
About two weeks after first stressing his expectation that we avoid the lab, my father left for the city. He said that he needed to gather some necessary supplies for his work and would be gone for three days. He again emphasized the importance of staying clear of his lab, and we, as we had done so many times before, promised to abide.
I had planned on obeying him. Truly I did. I don’t make this claim to escape responsibility for my actions. No matter what I do, I will never be able to change the fact that my carelessness led to tragedy. But I also cannot help but realize that if it weren’t for the persistence of my friend Roland, my life would still be normal.
* * *
My father left in the early morning on a Thursday. Taking advantage of his being away, Steven and I idled the day away by playing video games and eating junk food. Nothing else worth mentioning happened on this day.
Friday rolled around, and I was content to spend it the same way I had spent the day before. Steven, on the other hand, was invited to a friend’s house, and he let me know that he and some other friends would be staying the night there.
I spent a few hours playing Doom, and then I became bored. I decided that I would follow my brother’s example and find a friend to hang out with. It didn’t take much effort; I just called the same friend I always hung out with: Roland. As usual, he was happy to come over.
Roland arrived and, anticipating a common request, I told him, “Before you even ask, my dad won’t let you see his lab. He’s not even here, and we’re not supposed to go near it.” Roland had long been fascinated by my father’s laboratory and the notion that my father performed important experiments inside it.
“Sheesh,” he said. “Relax, Anders. I’d rather game, anyway.”
Of course Roland wanted to play video games. His dad had taken his system away because he was failing several classes, and he was always eager to get his gaming fix whenever he came over.
“I’m pretty tired of video games. That’s all I did yesterday,” I said. “How about a horror movie?” Both Roland and I were really into horror movies. “Let’s watch Werewolf Cemetery,” I suggested. “You’ve got to see the morgue scene, man! It’s pretty great!”
“Sure,” he replied. I put the Blu-ray into my Xbox and pressed play.
We were both enjoying the movie, and then we got to the morgue scene. Once the scene was over, I turned to Roland and asked what he’d thought.
“That guy said ‘slab’ weird.”
“Okay, but weren’t the gore effects cool?”
He just said, “Meh,” and this irritated me. If I hadn’t known Roland better, I would have been more upset, but I knew him to be an unrepentant contrarian, and around me especially. Even when it was pretty clear that we both enjoyed something — a song, a game, whatever — he would sometimes claim otherwise, and I think it was because he resented that I had what he didn’t. My father was a very well-to-do scientist, and Roland’s was a janitor. Suffice it to say, Roland did not enjoy the same privileges my brother and I did. Disagreeing with me occasionally over superficial things was his passive-aggressive way of dealing with this.
I felt annoyed but decided to take it in stride. Instead of calling Roland out on his childish behavior, I just asked somewhat exasperatedly, “Do you want to do something else?”
“Yeah,” he said smiling, “let’s check out your dad’s lab.”
“No!” I snapped.
“Ah, come on! You know you want to!” Roland pleaded.
“My father would kill me!” I exclaimed. “He made me promise multiple times to not even go near his lab. No way.”
“Oh,” he scoffed. “He’ll never know. We’ll only be in there for a second.”
“Roland, I said no.”
“Whatever,” he muttered. “Be a coward for all I care.”
I groaned. “I’m not a coward. You just don’t understand how big of a deal it is to my dad that we stay out of there.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Roland said, unmoved by my claim.
Not wanting Roland to leave early — it was still the early afternoon, and I didn’t want to spend the rest of the day by myself — I tried to appease him by suggesting we play video games.
“Sure,” he said unenthusiastically.
We played for about half an hour, but Roland pouted the whole time. I tried to smooth things over, but he gave flat, one-word replies to my every attempt at friendly conversation.
It was obvious that he was still trying to get me to agree to show him my father’s lab, and while this irked me, he was still successful in wearing me down. I thought, If I just let him peek, we’ll be in and out in a moment, Dad will never know, Roland will stop being so annoying, and the rest of the day will be saved. And to be completely honest, I was curious about what my father was working on that was so important.
I sighed and said, “I’ll let you peek if you promise me that we’ll only be in there a second, and you won’t touch anything.”
Roland grinned. “I knew you’d come around,” he said.
“I mean it. Just a second, and you don’t touch a thing.”
“Sheesh, Anders. I promise.”
Satisfied, I led Roland to my father’s study.
We entered the study, and Roland followed me to my father’s large desk. I opened the pencil drawer and started removing its contents.
“So, a while ago, I peeked through the keyhole,” I said, motioning toward the door, “and saw my dad putting this drawer back together. I waited for a day when he was out, and then I snuck back in and discovered that this is a false drawer.” I finished clearing the contents. I then ran my hand along the right inside corner until I felt a small ribbon. I pinched the ribbon and lifted it to reveal the hidden compartment.
“Neat!” Roland exclaimed.
“Yeah, I guess.” It was now my turn to act unenthused. Although, again, I was just as, if not more, excited to uncover the mystery of my father’s current project.
I located my father’s password book and flipped through it until I found the updated passcode for entry to his lab.
“1083. Got it,” I said. I then placed everything back in order so that my father would not know we had been rifling through his things.
We hurried down to the lab and stood a moment before the door.
“Come on, man. Open it,” Roland urged.
I sighed, promised myself we’d be in and out, and reluctantly entered the code.
Copyright © 2022 by Michael Jess Alexander
