Published:
February 8, 2024
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As Ellen Meeker approached her son's bedroom for her ritual tuck-in and goodnight kiss, she thought she heard voices. Upon entering the dimly lit room, she found her son alone and in bed.
"Were you talking to someone, Honey?"
"My friend," Jesse said.
"I see. Do you talk to your friend often?"
"Yes. He visits me at night."
"Where does he live?"
"In my head."
Ellen sat on the bed and gently brushed Jesse's hair back from his forehead. "And what's your friend's name?"
"Moxmory, I think."
"Oh. And what do the two of you talk about?"
"He explains things to me, " Jesse said.
"What kind of things?"
"Well, tonight he told me that I'm mostly water and carbon."
* * *
Dr. Marlin Meeker downed the last of his vodka tonic and turned to his wife. "You're making too big a deal of this, Ellen. It's not uncommon for a five-year-old to have an imaginary friend. In fact, it's been proven to have some positive benefits."
"Don't talk to me like I'm one of your research assistants," Ellen said. "I know all that. It's just that I don't think most imaginary friends discuss the elemental make-up of the human body."
"Maybe it was something he heard on TV. How long has he had this friend, Foxmore?"
"It's Moxmory, which is another thing that bothers me. What a strange name for him to come up with! I don't know how long this has been going on, but he says it only happens at night."
"Well, tomorrow's Saturday. I'll check on him tonight and have a good talk with him in the morning. Now you get to bed."
Dr. Meeker returned from Jesse's room as his wife was sliding under the covers. "Everything appears to be normal," he said. "No Moxmory, and Jesse's sound asleep."
As her husband got in bed, Ellen turned to him. "Go easy when you talk with him. You know how sensitive he is, and with everything going on . . ."
* * *
Dr. Meeker drifted in and out of sleep. His mind wouldn't stop racing through the events of the past month. As Director of the world's leading biogenomics research institute, his group had been tasked to find a solution to the most menacing and inexplicable contagion yet to threaten humankind.
Appearing to have no earthly origin, it had been dubbed the "Universal Virus." With time being of the essence, the group's lack of progress was wearing on his entire staff. He was beginning to worry about his own endurance — and now this thing with Jesse.
A faint light emanated from the stairwell, causing Dr. Meeker to open his eyes. The clock on his nightstand indicated 3:37 AM. He quietly got out of bed to investigate. The light was coming from downstairs. His first thought was to make sure Jesse was all right. He opened the door to Jesse's bedroom and found the bed empty.
He considered grabbing his gun, but thought better of it and began to descend the stairs empty-handed. The light was coming from his office. Through the half-opened door he saw Jesse from behind, sitting in the desk chair. Not wanting to startle his young son, he approached slowly and silently.
Jesse sat with a book in his hands, turning the pages in a continuous motion. Dr. Meeker moved to the side of the desk so he could see his son's face. Jesse's eyes were open, and moving back and forth with the rapid eye movement of dream sleep.
"Jesse!" he said.
His son appeared not to have heard him. Dr. Meeker took the book from the boy's hands and gently shook him by the shoulder.
Jesse looked up at him. "Daddy!"
"What are you doing down here? Why aren't you in bed?"
"Moxmory likes to read at night," Jesse said.
Dr. Meeker looked at the book — "Editing the Human Genome through Applied Mathematics." It had been taken from his working library. An open manuscript, "Advances in Biochemistry: the Almeida Papers," also lay on his desk, along with another book, "Latin, the Universal Language."
"Come on, Sport. I'll carry you back up to bed. Tomorrow we can try out that new playground."
* * *
The compound that housed the research facility was considered relatively safe and sterile. Still, the new children's wing was oddly vacant for a Saturday morning.
Jesse rode the rocking starship while Dr. Meeker sat watching him from one of the playground's benches. Thoughts of schizophrenia and possession entered his mind, but he rejected these immediately. Something else was happening to Jesse, unlike anything he had ever encountered.
He walked over to his son. "Tell me, Jesse, do you think I can talk to your friend?"
Jesse looked up at him, puzzled. "I don't think so. He only talks in my head."
"Well, maybe you can ask him something for me. Will you ask him why he's here?"
"Maybe," Jesse said.
* * *
Ellen woke to the sounds of crying. She shook her husband. "Marlin, wake up. I think something's the matter with Jesse."
Dr. Meeker woke from his shallow sleep and listened. "You stay here. I'll go see what's wrong."
He found Jesse in bed, his head buried in his pillow, sobbing. "What's the matter, son?" he said.
"Moxmory's gone!" Jesse said, tears streaking down his cheeks.
"What do you mean?"
"I asked him why he was here, like you told me."
Dr. Meeker crouched by the bed next to Jesse. "And? What did he say?"
"He thought that we could help him, but he said we're not smart enough yet. He said he had to leave and keep looking." Jesse began crying again.
"Now, now. Everything's going to be all right. Did he say anything else?"
"No. He just kept saying his name, and then he was gone."
"Moxmory? He kept saying Moxmory?" Dr. Meeker remembered the book on his desk and thought, or was it mox mori — soon to die?

Copyright 2024 - SFS Publishing LLC
Jesse's Friend
He visits me at night
Dick Narvett

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