Chapter 6

Tim had found an apartment in a small apartment building just across the street from the hospital where he was doing his residency. It was also one of the few apartments that allowed pets. He chose an apartment on the third floor in the back of the building so he wouldn’t hear ambulances screaming all night long. He had made friends with Carl, one of the other interns who wanted to become an anesthesiologist. Tim Trusted Carl enough to introduce him to his dog and tell him his secret.

One day, Tim got a phone call from Carl. “Hey Tim,” said Carl, “I have some friends that I might have told them about you and your, uhm, dog. They want to talk to you.”

“About what?” said Tim, defensively. “Agents from the SCP Foundation want to put me and my dog in containment at Site 19 or something?”

“No!” said Carl. “Nothing like that. They’re good friends of mine. Just hear them out, okay?”

Carl and his friends knocked on Tim’s door a couple of days later.

Tim opened his door to see Carl, some other guy, and a woman in a wheelchair with a tube coming out of her mouth attached to a device similar to a CPAP machine.

“Come in,” said Tim.

Carl introduced his friends. “This is Ken and his sister Rachel.”

Ken rolled Rachel’s wheelchair up to the coffee table, and then the three guys all sat around in a circle in Tim’s living room.

“By the way, who’s the fat Goth girl who lives here?” said Ken.

“Don’t know any fat Goth girls who live here,” said Tim.

“Not just fat, but a literal land whale,” said Ken. “All leather and chains and a collar –– like a medieval slave. I was afraid she was gonna break the elevator cable.”

“Was she going to the fourth floor?” said Tim.

“Yeah!” said Ken. “Why?”

“Well,” said Tim. “The landlord lives on the fourth floor. And he’s a bit of an oddball. Lives by himself, but maybe once or twice a year he has strange girls come to visit him for just a week or two. Rumor has it that he writes kinky sex stories on the internet. My neighbor said he was doing laundry one day and peeked into a door next to the laundry room that was ajar and found a full-on medieval dungeon with a model train layout over in the corner.”

“A model railroad?” said Ken. “In a dungeon?”

“Yeah,” said Tim. “Weird! He’s pretty quiet, but people say they hear screams coming from his apartment when he has these girls over. Nobody ever sees the same girl twice. We think, maybe, he’s a serial killer or something. Or maybe he’s just into bondage shit. The rents are low and he keeps the building in good repair, so everybody minds their own business.”

“So, enough about the landlord and fat goth girls,” said Ken. “Is it really true that you can control a dog with your mind?”

Tim’s dog walked out of Tim’s bedroom and up to Ken. “Yes,” said the dog. “It’s true. Woof!”

“Holy fuck!” said Ken. “What’s it like? How does it work?”

“I have a module implanted at the small of my neck wired into my spinal cord,” said Tim.

“I have something similar,” said the dog.

“So you’re, like, both human and dog?” said Ken.

“For all practical purposes,” said Tim, “yes. I can see out the dog’s eyes and my own simultaneously. It’s like I have two sets of eyes that I can see out of at the same time. And it’s like I have two bodies that I can control at the same time.”

“Isn’t it hard to control two bodies at once?” said Ken.

“At first, yeah,” said Tim, “it was hard to learn to coordinate two arms, two legs, and four paws all at once. But now dog-me and human-me go out walking side-by-side fairly regularly.”

“So the dog is, like, persona non gratis in its own body?” said Ken.

“It was a vicious dog that was going to be put down,” said Tim. “The dog is still in there, and is still vicious. I can sense its vicious nature, but since its spinal cord is severed, it has no control over its body and so can’t attack anyone. The dog can still see and hear and smell and has its own mind, but that’s all. Only I have control of its body.”

“Could you do this to a human?” said Ken.

“I...” said Tim. “Wait! I think I know where this is headed.”

“Yes,” said Ken. “Can you put one of those chips in Rachel so she can walk again?”

“In theory, yes,” said Tim. “but that would be highly unethical.”

“Please,” croaked Rachel, struggling to get the words out understandably. “If you can make me walk and be alive again...”

Tim knelt in front of the girl. “Rachel,” he said. “You don’t want this. It would mean that another person would have total control of your body.”

“I don’t care,” she choked the words out. “I want to be alive again.”

“But that would mean someone else is controlling you,” said Tim. “Whoever is controlling you would effectively become you. Your head would just be along for the ride on someone else’s body as that person controlled you, spoke for you, and so forth.”

“Please, Tim,” she whispered. “Please.”

“Absolutely not,” said Tim. “It would be beyond unethical to do that to a human being. I’m sorry.”

Carl and Ken left with Rachel shortly after.

A few months later, Ken and Rachel paid another visit to Tim.

“We’re here to ask you to reconsider,” said Ken.

“Please!” choked Rachel when her breathing machine let her exhale.

“She just wants to walk and talk again,” said Ken, “even if someone else is in control.”

“Please!” repeated Rachel.

“A day doesn’t go by that she doesn’t ask me to end her life,” said Ken. “You and your dog finally gave her hope for a life again.”