EPISODE IX – HEARTMAN
Sam brushed away the snow that was clinging to his goggles and checked his location on the map on his device. If he ascended the slope then he should be able to see Heartman’s research facility.
It was seven days since Sam had departed Mountain Knot City. He had already surmounted two peaks, crossed a crevasse, and climbed and descended more slopes than he could count. The weather had been relatively stable, but the skies were beginning to turn a little more ominous now and it looked like a blizzard was on its way. Sam wanted to get to Heartman’s place before it arrived. He couldn’t risk losing cargo this precious. It was irreplaceable. It was something that Sam struggled to class as “cargo” at all. It was Mama’s body wrapped tightly in a body bag.
After dying together with her unborn baby, Mama’s ka had become connected to her ha through the ka of her child. It was likely because of that she was able to move her body as if she was still alive. Even after the umbilical cord that connected them had been cut, Mama’s body neither necrotized nor decomposed. In fact, it had remained in the same state as when she had just died. Such an unusual phenomenon had piqued Heartman’s interest and he had requested to examine the body. He thought it might provide a vital clue to understanding the relationship between the ha and the ka, and that between the worlds of the living and the dead that the Beach connected. If Sam was lucky, it might even offer some insights as to why Sam was the way he was, too. That’s why it was so important to get Mama’s body to Heartman. The long march to his lab felt like her funeral procession.
After circumventing the large rocks that began to protrude halfway up the slope, Sam’s view suddenly expanded. He could see to the bottom of the basin and the frozen lake that lay there. It was hard to make out amid the snow flurries, but it seemed to be shaped like a heart. Like a simple heart that had been doodled by a child. Heartman resided alongside it.
As Sam reached the lab, the sensor scanned Sam and opened the entrance. The delivery terminal that was set up next to it automatically booted up, welcoming Sam to the facility. Sam was about to announce his arrival when he was greeted by a mechanical sound.
<Please proceed.>
The door opened and Sam proceeded into a long corridor that was flooded with light. In contrast to Mama’s lab, Heartman’s lab was immaculate. There wasn’t so much as a speck of dust in sight, but no signs of life either. The hallway was almost silent. The sound of Sam’s footsteps and breathing were the only noises echoing faintly between the walls, which felt kind of cushioned and springy, just like the floors.
<Please enter.>
Encouraged onward by the voice, Sam passed through the automatic doors. Suddenly, the hallway was cloaked in darkness. Sam couldn’t make out what was in front of him, but luckily there was a handrail to grab onto nearby. Sam gripped it and waited for his eyes to become accustomed to the blackness. Music was playing faintly in the distance. It was a heavy and melancholic piano piece. It was Chopin’s Funeral March. The moment Sam turned in the direction of the source of the music, something caught in his throat. Something that couldn’t possibly be there was floating in front of him.
A BT.
Sam reflexively held his breath and stopped moving. Perhaps this was why he hadn’t sensed any sign of human life in the lab. Maybe something had happened to turn this place into BT territory. But there was no response from the Odradek. Deadman had assured Sam that the functionality of the reset BB had been restored, but maybe Sam had messed up when he was tuning the BB with himself. What if it was still too soon after the BB’s memories had been wiped? On the way here from Mountain Knot City they hadn’t had to go through any BT territory, so Sam hadn’t noticed that the BB wasn’t responsive. But now he realized that he hadn’t been able to reconnect with Lou at all.
Deadman’s face flashed before Sam’s eyes. He could feel the anger billowing up as he imagined punching the liar square in the jaw.
Then, Lou let out a laugh.
As Sam peered down into the pod, Lou gazed back up. Lou seemed to be trying to tell him something. Sam looked back toward the BT. He could have kicked himself. It was a dummy.
Sam flicked it with his finger and carried on forward, led by the unending music.
Someone was lying face up on a padded lounge chair ahead in the darkness. The sleeping face beneath the glasses was that of Heartman, who Sam had talked to over codec a few times now.
“Heartman?” Sam whispered.
The man didn’t look like he was sleeping. His chest wasn’t rising or falling at all. He wasn’t breathing. Sam had a bad feeling about this. This was why there had been no sign of life.
He supposed the piece of equipment beside the chair was there to monitor Heartman’s vitals. It was similar to one of the machines in Bridget’s room. It was most likely an EKG. The EKG reading should have depicted a wave, but it wasn’t oscillating a jot. It was flatlining. Heartman’s heart had stopped.
“Heartman?”
The music stopped. It felt like someone’s funeral had just come to an end. Lou was staring at Heartman with a strange expression. The Odradek was still unresponsive. Then, a small device on the left side of Heartman’s chest let out an electronic noise.
<Administering shock. Stand clear.>
Immediately afterward, the body shook. With an electronic beep, the EKG graph began to draw waves. Then the man drew a deep breath and sat up, and looked at Sam with the face of someone who was still slightly groggy, with tears in his eyes.
Sam still hadn’t grasped what was going on when Heartman stood up and wiped the tears away. He adjusted his glasses then offered his hand to Sam. Seemingly unperturbed by an unresponsive Sam, the man began to speak.
“Well, you certainly caught me with my pants down. Glad you could make it, Sam. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you. But I am what I am.”
Sam just stood there, not knowing what Heartman was talking about or how he should reply.
“Ah. Please lay her down there,” Heartman instructed. He seemed to think that the reason Sam was so confused was because he didn’t know what to do with Mama, and indicated toward a stretcher next to his lounge chair.
“Still no sign of them,” Heartman muttered to himself, not paying Sam any mind as Sam laid the body bag down. Heartman was skillfully fiddling with his cuff link.
“You know your heart stops beating?” Sam said in an attempt to get Heartman to turn around.
“Don’t worry about it,” Heartman replied, pointing at the device on his chest. “It stops every twenty-one minutes. I spend three minutes on the Beach, and then return.” His voice was as casual as if he was describing his day.
“Sixty deaths and sixty resurrections per day. Sixty opportunities to search the Beach for my departed family. This is how I live. This is my life,” he explained.
Sam was becoming increasingly confused, but Heartman was paying no attention and continued to fiddle with his device. On a small table beside the chair stood a small hourglass, but for some reason, no sand was falling from the top compartment. Old books, images, and music neatly lined the ceiling-high bookshelves. Between the books and other objects stood a picture of a woman with a wide, innocent smile and a shy little girl. The ceiling was almost hidden from view by the hanging skeletal samples of whales and other creatures.