“If there were no God, it would have been necessary to invent Him.” - Voltaire
“What is your name?” I ask him. He just stares at me. A cold, icy stare. If I were a religious man I would say he appeared to have no soul. But alas, I am not a religious man. Though born Catholic I have long since renounced my faith. I have found it quite difficult to believe in God when I have done what he has.
Created man.
“Do you know where you are? How old you are?” He continues to just stare at me. As I pace the room his eyes follow me. He rarely blinks. His eyes have been engineered containing an overly adequate amount of tear ducts thereby eliminating the need to blink often. I find it creepy. “You are allowed to speak freely.”
His nostrils flare slightly. Someone must be approaching. Sure enough, my assistant Shane Rivers enters the lab. Lab. Amusing. This is as much a lab as an alley is an emergency room. This is not a lab. This is the Disneyworld of science. Floor Negative 18. Level 37 security clearance. Only fifteen know of its existence and just seven of them are allowed inside.
“Dr. Black” Rivers says. Its more of an acknowledgement of my existence in the room than a greeting. Rivers has always rubbed many of our colleagues the wrong way. Very self assured, arrogant, and attractive. “Has he spoken today?”
“Yes” I tell her flatly. She knows he has not spoken. In the four weeks he has existed he has yet to say a word. Multiple examinations have been completed and they all showed that he indeed has vocal cords that work perfectly. Beyond perfectly. I should know. I made them. “Just before you arrived he and I were discussing the current political climate. I am under the suspicion that he is a very right wing conservatist.”
“I see you have yet to solve the riddle of the humor gene” she says and sits down across from our “child.” Rivers picks up a clipboard and flips through a few pages. “How are you doing today?” she asks him. He just stares at her. I have suggested she flirt with him if for any reason that I would find it humorous. “When are we going to name him?” she asks me.
“Soon hopefully” I tell her. “I am tired of referring to him as ‘him’, ‘it’, and ‘patient.’ Have you heard what Jim has started calling him?” Jim is another one of the researchers for the project. It took five years before I was able to not call him Dr. Roberts. His name is James but he prefers Jim.
“Oh, what wonderful name has Jim come up with?” Rivers asks while rolling her eyes.“
"'The Vitruvian Man’” I say. She places the clipboard on the table and looks at me.
“That actually is not half bad” she says. “Can we call you Vitruvian Man?” she asks him.
“It sounds odd” I say. “Maybe Victor?”
“Fine” Rivers sighs. She removes a small recorder from her coat pocket and speaks. “Patient from this point forward is to be referred to as Victor and the suggestion of Dr. Black and myself, Dr. Rivers.” She places the recorder back into her pocket. “Good day, Victor.” He just stares at her. “Perhaps it is his hearing.”
“No, I have checked already” I tell her. “I am beginning to think he is just rude.” After another half hour of attempting to coax Victor into speaking, Dr. Rivers and I leave him alone with whatever thoughts he has.
Near my office I hear Jim whistling further down the corridor. I attempt to quickly gather my keys and enter before being spotted. I fumble my keys and they crash to the ground sounding unbelievably loud in the silence.
“Hey, Blackie!” Jim shouts. “Any word from the V-Man?”
“None” I tell him. “And he is now named Victor.”
“Victor?” Jim asks with an expression on his face as if he just walked into an unpleasant smell. “Yeah, no. No, I don’t like that. Sounds too Russian.”
“Isn’t your wife Russian?” I ask him.
“Exactly!” he says and bullies his way into my office. He sits at my desk and places his feet on my desk.
“Were you raised by animals?” I ask him.
“No” he says. “New Yorkers.”
“Same difference” I say as I dodge a paperclip he tosses my way. I sit on my couch and sigh.
“Aw, what’s wrong?” Jim asks me.
“It’s Victor” I tell him. “I just do not understand why he refuses to speak. At this point he should be speaking in eighteen different languages. But all he will do is just look at us.”
“Have you asked Shane to flash her boobs to him?” he asks. “That would get me talking!”
“To a divorce lawyer maybe” I say. “Perhaps he just doesn’t have anything to say” Jim says. “Or he finds the two of you horribly boring. Either way it doesn’t matter. We’ve created the perfect man! Next we’ll make the perfect woman and then I can get out of this dump!”
“The perfect woman has already been made” I tell him.
“If you say Bettie Page again I swear I will build the perfect foot and shove it up your…” Jim begins to say before Dr. Rivers enters the room. “Hey, speaking of perfect women! Hello, Shane.”
“Jim” she says and sits on my desk with her back to Jim. I am sure he is staring at her lab coat covered backside. “The Big Heads have decided that they are not willing to wait for Victor to decide to begin speaking. They want us to force him to speak.”
“Force?” Jim and I both say.
“Yes, twins” she says.
“And how are we supposed to do that?” Jim asks.
“Torture” she says.
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