Mind over Matter

The fat man laughed. “I bet that makes it worthwhile, eh?” He said.

How had everything gotten so far? Surely this wasn’t it? This is what it was all worth? Something wasn’t right.

I closed the case and looked up at him. “It’s not enough,” I said “I want more.”

He looked at me. He didn’t seem surprised. “Well now, I thought you’d say that. So what if I was to tell you that the police are on their way here? That somebody has tipped them off that Jake Friar has been spotted in the area. You know him. He’s the one who’s all over the news ... for murdering his wife, mainly.”

It was all true, of course. “You bastard!” I got up to hit him.

“I wouldn’t if I were you, if I’m conscious I’ll be gone by the time the police get here. If I’m not, I might have to tell them all about who I was here to meet and what, exactly, I paid him half a million pounds for.” He smiled.

Eighteen months earlier

I’d always known I was destined for great things.

Science, especially biochemistry, came very easily to me. Whilst my class mates were puzzling over acids and alkalines I was developing a revolutionary short cat cracking process.

Ensign Bio-Chem had spotted me from an early age, and sponsored me through College and University, with the understanding that when I graduated I went to work for them. I was more than happy to do so and so, eighteen months ago, I became the next big thing in Biochemistry and pharmaceuticals.

I could choose what I wanted to work on, I had unlimited funds and resources - if I asked for it, I got it. Hell, I got three of it even if there were only two available in the world! But all I really needed was my own head and a lab.

I’d always been interested in what I call the darker side of drugs- narcotics. I was convinced that these drugs could offer new cures and medications, but the stigma attached to them had prevented their development. A few eyebrows were raised by my paymasters, but they gave me the go ahead.

It was the worst decision I think they could possibly have made.

Eighteen weeks earlier

It hadn’t taken me long to make several breakthroughs. It seemed that everything I did bore fruit, with massive revenue potential forecasted. Potential cures for Alzheimer’s, treatments for cancer and a whole horde of new non-addictive painkillers where already well on their way to completion.

My most recent discovery was based on LSD. It was slightly different to everything before, though. It wasn’t a medication of any description, but instead it activated several latent genes. This drug was something special; it apparently allowed one creature to enter the mind of another.

As a result I’d christened it Psycho-troppan, or PT for short. My Ensign paymasters were ecstatic, as the military potential was enormous, to say the least. What they didn’t know though, was that PT also provided an incredible high ... and was incredibly dangerous.

Eighteen hours earlier

If I had any excuse it’s that I truly loved my wife. It’s not much of an excuse, and it certainly doesn’t justify what I did to her.

PT had entered the animal testing phase for about 2 months earlier, when I decided I would advance things a little. I decided I would try it myself and took a small sample home with me. I took it in the kitchen, whilst my wife was in the bedroom upstairs.

The effectiveness of PT was frankly remarkable. I took only a tiny dose and was instantly able to sense her mind, despite the physical barriers between us. I was then able to massage her pleasure centres within a short period of time. I rapidly moved onto being able to analyse every part of her brain and even control her physically.

It was scary how ready she was to accept what was happening and to enjoy all the pleasure I was able to arouse in her. It was also scary how pleasurable it was for me. It was like having orgasm after orgasm for both of us.

And that’s when I found it.

She was having an affair.

I didn’t recognise who it was. I didn’t care. The rage that swelled up within me was uncontrollable. I wanted to inflict pain, massive pain. And I did. I did terrible things to her and those things, along with the horrible death I gave her, will be with me forever.

What’s worse though was the realisation this morning when I awoke and realised what it was I had found in her mind. Fantasy. A harmless fantasy. Nothing more than that. I’d killed her because she’d had a harmless fantasy. It was probably someone she worked with. I began to laugh.

I laughed for several hours, in fact. You see, even though I didn’t realise it I was still under the influence of PT. The after effects last for quite a few hours it seems and they have the rather unfortunate effect of completely altering your personality.

This is the only explanation I have for why, instead of contacting the police, I phoned the fat man. He’d been my dealer at University, which is where I’d truly developed my unusual theories on narcotics, and offered to sell him the formulae for PT for half a million.

I was, you see, planning to do a runner, but not only that I was going to put the worlds most dangerous narcotic in the hands of the criminal classes. All for a measly half million pounds.

Sometimes just because you can do something, it doesn’t mean you should.