The Mad Doctor

“When you are ready to proceed,” the cover letter said, “come alone to Denfert-Rochereau. There is a pay phone near the Métro station. Use it to dial the number listed below. You will be given further directions on the phone. Please bring this letter and your parental consent form; we have already received the rest of the test results. Good luck!”

Aile’s mind worked to figure out what the cryptic message could mean, idly watching the stations along the #4 line scroll by. What was there of interest in Denfert-Rochereau? Another anonymous office building, perhaps? Somehow she couldn’t imagine whatever mysterious procedure was required–a procedure she would soon be undertaking herself–being carried out in such a sterile, modern, human environment.

The parental consent form had been a non-concern for Aile. She had an excellent hand at calligraphy, and it only took her a few minutes’ practice copying her father’s signature from a school paper to produce a workable forgery. The consent form was signed and ready. She doubted they would actually verify it; she was certain that such things were simply to avoid legal troubles in most cases. If they decided to check later, well, by then it would be too late.

The train pulled into the Denfert-Rochereau platform, and she got off, walking past the large, bright ads along the sloping walls. Before she had even made it out of the platform area, the warning tone was sounding, and the train was off. The station seemed strangely quiet, empty, and lonely.

Aile walked up the stairs and out of the Métro station, and started looking for a phone. It took her some time to find it, but she promptly lifted the receiver, inserted her phone card, and dialed the number. It rang several times, and then a man’s voice answered.

“Hello?” he said, simply.

“I’m at the Denfert-Rochereau Métro station, calling as requested on the letter. Do I have the right number?”

“Yes, you do. What is the file number on the form?”

Aile read it off to him, and he paused for a few seconds as if looking through papers.

“Got it. Stay by the station stairs and someone will be by momentarily to escort you down.”

He hung up, and she put the receiver back on the hook.

Aile sat watching the tourists come in and out of the Catacombs. It was one of those curious things that everyone knows about, but for some reason, when you live in the same city, you just never go to see it yourself. By the looks of it, quite a few were in there already today; a line stretched around the corner, and disappointed-looking people were turning away. A Ka’aulele man came out of the Catacombs and crossed the street toward her, stopping in the median. Then he crossed over again, to where she was standing.

“Aile Molyneaux, I presume?”

“That’s me,” she responded with an innocent-girl smile. The bird-man just smiled back at her and sniffed knowingly.

“May I see your papers?” he asked. Aile handed them to him, and he glanced over them. “Follow me, then. We’ll be going back in there.” He pointed across the street at the entrance to the Catacombs.

“Down there? It looks like it’s awfully busy today, though,” she observed.

“That’s fine,” he said, and showed her an official-looking badge of some sort. She shrugged and followed him across the street.

A quiet muttering started up when people saw them jumping straight to the head of the line, flashing a badge, and walking past.

“Those bird-people get so many privileges. It’s just not right,” someone complained before Aile was out of earshot.

“Best get in front of me here,” her escort said. “It’s a bit tricky negotiating my wings down these stairs.”

Aile stepped in front of him and started down a narrow spiral staircase. She glanced back up once and saw that he had to pull his wings in as closely as he could, and even lean them back a little bit, to fit. He led her past several familiar-looking tourist spots with walls of bones and skulls, gruesome sculptures of stone people leaning from walls, and beautiful stone arches. A little bit farther on, he turned onto a side path and used a key to unlock a metal gate. He ushered her through and locked it behind himself, not bothering to explain to the curious tourists who were peering after the two of them.

They walked for some way through more archways, roughly carved out square tunnels, areas covered in graffiti. On they continued down one metal-runged ladder, and through other areas with what looked like Egyptian hieroglyphics painted in modern colors. And always there were more skulls, more bones, more moldy death. After a while, Aile became thoroughly lost and disoriented.

“Believe it or not,” the bird-man said, “this is actually the first part of your process. It helps to put you in the right state of mind, to realize that what came before in your life is now ending. You may have some amazing times coming in the future, but you’re stepping from one phase of your life into another. Who you were, or thought you were, is dying. Like a phoenix, a new Aile will be reborn. Still with me?”

Aile nodded shakily. It was a lot to take in, and somehow seemed so much more real when she was in the midst of the first part of her change.

“You’re amazing, miss,” he said. “If I’d gone through something like this at your age, I would’ve felt like a puddle on the ground.”

“Who says I don’t?” she asked with a little smile. He just shook his head.

“We’re near the Seine now,” he said. Aile could hear water somewhere in the distance. “Here is where the magic starts. Get ready to crack your shell, little bird-girl.”

Aile could already smell the moisture and hear strange noises. Only a few more twists and turns later, they entered a large chamber that was like something out of the craziest fairy tale.

Rough-hewn walls extended upward perhaps a hundred feet, in the shape of a circle about twice as wide across. A pillar in the center of the room with a large bowl on top contained a blazing flame that pulsed between blue and red. A smaller circle set in the floor around the pillar was filled with water. The walls rose in a rough dome shape to a small skylight in the ceiling. It let in both light and water, which fell directly toward the pillar but somehow missed it, falling into the pool instead. The pool was being filled from the skylight, but somehow it never ran over, despite not seeming to have any obvious drain. Torches were hung at regular intervals, but they burned cleanly, without any traces of smoke. Colors hung in the air near the ceiling, and a slight humming sound filled the air all around. As Aile focused on it and tried to listen, it became louder to her and resolved into harmonious shifting tones that promptly quieted when she stopped trying to hear.

She just stood there for a moment, trying to take it in, and noticed that the bird-man was doing the same thing. With a sudden flash of insight, she knew that this was a ritual temple of sorts; that it was modeled after some design practiced on Hunéa; and that it was where important parts of what was to happen would take place.

“This entrance is not the normal way to get in here, of course,” he said finally. “For one thing, it’s not very practical. But another important consideration is that this is ritual space that people are typically kept away from until it’s their time. It’s important for it to be clean and in-tune.”

Aile was still staring around with her mouth open, and simply nodded. The bird-man smiled again.

“Now I will tell you that you are already undergoing another preliminary part of your change. I’m sure you hear the Song in the air. This is a little sacred piece of Hunéa, brought here with us. A Temple of Change. Where dreams are made real. The aurora is directly above us, high up in the air.”

She was simply at a loss for words, both at the beauty of the place, and the realization of the honor she was receiving, being accepted into their world. But was that not what this whole journey was about? And clearly the place itself accepted her, because it was already responding to her in subtle ways, and she to it. Push, pull. Action, reaction. Her presence changed the place, and it changed her. Aile realized that already she had accepted her death, and had accepted and begun her rebirth, because she could never ascend to the surface and see it in the same way, again.

Then she saw him, across the room.

He was a bird-man with long blond hair, glasses, and a sad look to his face. He wore something that looked at first like a doctor’s white lab coat, but was actually made of some kind of homespun fabric. He had black pants and simple fabric slippers. His wings were an unhealthy looking gray, and seemed to droop in a strange way. She noticed that he held them very stiffly, almost more like wing costume props; she had never noticed until now how much Na’aulele moved their wings around. Dr. Halalo walked around the circle toward them.

“Welcome, welcome,” he said to her. “I’ve seen your file, and I know who you are and what you are here for. However, from this moment forward, we will not be using your human name. As you have walked through death to come see me, you are now as an unborn babe; you will have another name soon, but we will come to that later. It will take time and thought. Think of something totally new that I can call you for now.”

The unnamed girl thought for a few moments. She truly started to feel as if she was being reborn. But each time she thought she felt it, she later realized it had not been so. Something clicked in her mind, and she saw that this process was true inductively–it could continue on indefinitely. Her life and her future seemed to spiral out ahead of her, and it was only when she came back to the moment that she realized that the Song had been wooing her.

“Midnight,” she said, thinking of her hair, one part of her she would definitely be taking forward with her into her new life. Dr. Halalo smiled.

“Midnight, then,” he said. “Brave young seeker. Understand that you are not only working to build your own happiness, but that with the action you take today, you are working to build the happiness of your whole world. When I came through the aurora, something strange happened. Something went wrong with my wings, and I fell. And fell, and fell, and fell. I had come alone, so no one was there to notice or catch me.”

He paused for a moment, staring meditatively at the column with the fire on the top.

“I passed out, and woke some time later, to my great surprise. I had landed in a tree, in a park very close to here. At that time, I had an epiphany. I had been saved in order to fulfill a purpose. We are here to bring grace and wonder to your world. And in bringing grace and wonder, we are all lifted up toward perfection; both the bringers and the receivers. We are all on a personal quest, whether we realize it or not, whether we know what it is or not. It’s why I help Na’aulele to lose their wings too, as you’ve no doubt heard. Only we know our quests, in our heart of hearts.”

Midnight nodded.

“Somehow...” she started. “Somehow I never expected it to be anything like this. Especially being led down into the Catacombs. But there’s a beauty in death and rebirth too, it seems.”

“Yes,” Dr. Halalo said. “It’s a sadly misunderstood thing, even among our people sometimes. And now, before we can go much further, Midnight, we must discuss the price of my help.”

She was suddenly nervous, knowing that it was far too late to back out, whatever the price. Unhappy visions of all sorts passed through her mind, but the Song would not let them take hold.

“It’s nothing so onerous, really,” he said. “All I really need is for you to spend a year helping me help others. An evening per week helping me guide others through this process. An evening per week being guided through this process, yourself. I won’t require you to help the ones losing their wings, if you prefer.”

“That’s all?” Midnight asked. But she knew as soon as she asked it, somehow, that this price was less than she could believe and more than she could imagine.

Dr. Halalo nodded soberly.

“Done,” she said, and smiled.

The doctor had told Midnight to go on with her Ka’aulele guide into the main part of the tunnel complex and finish getting ready. As she proceeded out the door of the temple and into the more normally, electrically lighted hallway, something seemed to dim around her. The mysteries of the universe swirling around her swirled down and out. But it also felt like there was something inside her now that hummed with the Song, and always would, no matter where she went.

When they left the temple, her guide had finally given her his name: Kamani. Midnight realized that he had not given it earlier because of the ritual aspect of losing her own name.

As they walked farther into the complex, the tunnels became less and less tunnel-like, and more like another quiet piece of an office building that happened to be underground. An office building with warm colors and inviting lights, carpets with curious but pleasing designs, and other organic touches. She passed several people who were clearly in this same process in her direction, and others in the opposite direction. She tried to be urbane about it, but found it difficult not to pity the latter. There was no point in pretending; the idea made her cry inside. She felt the first icy fingers of the great price she was to pay.

“This will be your room for the year,” Kamani said. “For the most part you’ll only use it to store your things while you’re here helping or being helped, but there’s also a bed there if you need to rest afterward, or if you end up having to stay late or overnight for some reason. It’s rare, but it does happen.”

Midnight thought back to her parents with a little bit of trepidation. Her parents, who had not really given their consent. Who thought their daughter was spending quality time with her friend Irène. Their daughter who seemed like a distant memory to Midnight. She purposefully let the line of thought go, as it was almost like trying to be unborn, and undead.

“Thank you, Kamani,” she said to him.

“You’re welcome. And there are toilets and showers down the hall that way,” he said, pointing. “Last thing I need from you for now is your forms. Great, thank you. I know it seems like we’re doing you the bigger favor, but we really appreciate having more help, even once a week. If you want to come more, you can, but we understand that can be difficult. Dr. Halalo has some others scheduled ahead of you, so it will be another hour or so. I’d recommend spending the time just meditating and trying to keep a clear mind. This whole process will be a new experience for you, but there’s nothing to be nervous or worried about.”

Midnight nodded, thinking of all the positives, too.

“And I’m becoming...” she trailed off with a wistful smile. “I guess that’s all I really need to say about it. I’m becoming.”

Kamani nodded with a smile.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said.

Midnight expected many thoughts to go through her head in this time; but everything just seemed blank. Clean. It seemed somehow appropriate that, having died and been reborn, her mind would be clean like this.

This didn’t stop her from having the occasional case of nerves. All of those things people had warned her about returned to her again–deformities, social non-acceptance, turning into something not quite human but not quite Ka’aulele, either. She brushed them all out of her mind. Midnight didn’t really care what she was, or what she was becoming. All she knew is that when she had her wings, she would feel whole. And feeling whole, she could face whatever might come.

She checked her watch briefly; it was about fifteen minutes before the time she had been told. It was also 19:45. Midnight hoped that her parents were not checking up on her, or she’d run into trouble.

She walked down to the toilets and used one. The last thing she wanted was to have to pee in the middle of an intricate ritual. The thought made her giggle, and somehow all of the heavy solemnity fell away. She was just a precocious young girl who had somehow grown much older than her years. It was a good feeling, like having split in two and meeting oneself again.

Midnight walked back to her little room and waited there. It was not a very long wait. A young man who looked to be in his mid-teens knocked on her door. She answered it.

“It’s time,” he said simply. She nodded and followed him down the hallway, back toward the Temple of Change.

Before going inside, she took her shoes off. It somehow seemed appropriate.

She then entered, and noticed that the young man had left her behind. It was only at that point that she realized that he was probably one of the “KtH patients”, Ka’aulele-to-Human. Somehow the word “patient” seemed too tame and medical for the concept, and she decided on “seeker” instead. It was the word Dr. Halalo had used, and it seemed appropriate.

Midnight stopped her ruminations and came back to the present. The doctor himself was standing in the shallow pool, his pants rolled up and his feet bare. He beckoned to her, and she walked solemnly toward him. Something seemed different in the room; it took her some time to realize that she felt some unseen movements around the edges and near the ceiling. The shimmering colors up there seemed somehow different. Perhaps brighter, or more visible, or just some other slight difference that made her think in those terms. The Song had also changed in character: before, it had been meditative, caressing; if she had to put words to it, it felt like it had now rolled its sleeves up and was ready to get to work.

She neared the pool, and rolled her pant legs up as well, then stepped carefully in. The water was cool, but not cold. It was an energizing sort of coolness, and it almost felt alive.

“She comes,” a chant came from voices all around her. She looked around and noticed that there was a cleverly concealed second-story gallery around the room. Na’aulele in white robes were standing around, holding burning candles. “The seeker, she comes,” they chanted again. A sonorous bell tone of a distinctly Tibetan flavor rang out from the upper gallery.

“Why are you here?” Dr. Halalo asked Midnight.

“To become,” she said, the answer coming from somewhere within the recesses of her mind. It seemed as if the Song were whispering the parts to her.

“Be cleaned by this sacred water, one who is called Midnight,” he said, and reached down with his hands cupped, dipping them into the water. He gently released it over her head.

“How will you become?” he asked her.

“By ascending,” she replied. This time the doctor gestured at the pillar, and the fire leapt down all sides of it. She almost flinched, but held still.

“Be cleaned by this sacred flame, one who is called Midnight,” he said, and the flames filled the whole area of the pool, but they did not hurt. Rather, they seemed to burn away all the dirt, all the hurts she’d suffered, all the pain that someone so young should not have endured.

“By what means will you ascend?” he asked. This answer, at least, she knew clearly.

“By unfurling my wings,” Midnight responded. “And flying to the stars,” the Song seemed to add through her mouth. This time the doctor gestured with his hand in a curious swirling motion, and a sudden wind arose in the room.

“Join with this sacred wind, one who is called Midnight,” he said, and the wind seemed to wrap around her suddenly, swirling all around her, and upward. She felt almost as if she would rise up with it, but she did not.

“What will you whisper to the stars?” he asked her.

“May that I bring your light to those who are without,” she whispered.

“May we bring your light to those who are without,” the group above chanted.

This time the doctor did nothing at all, but the aurora near the ceiling suddenly swirled, and the ceiling was no longer there. Instead, a million, billion stars were swirling around each other. They descended and filled the room, leaving an impression of wisdom and timelessness.

“And how will you bring the light to those who are without?” Dr. Halalo asked after a pause.

“By descending safely once again,” Midnight replied. Dr. Halalo led Midnight to the edge of the fountain and they stepped out of it, onto the dirt floor.

“Be grounded by the earth beneath your feet,” he said. “And welcome, be welcome,” he finished with a joyous sound to his voice.

“Be welcome!” the chanters said together, almost at a shout. The bell toned again.

He stepped behind her and put his hands on her back, near her shoulders. Suddenly her insides were crawling, and she felt a heat all through her chest.

Then it was over. The stars were gone, the ceiling was back to a normal shimmer, the Song was meditative. The upper gallery was empty and nearly invisible once again. Midnight was surprised by Dr. Halalo giving her a hug.

“You’ve started on a great journey, and a great life of service,” he said, “whether you realize it or not. It’s by our example that we must bring the light of the heavens to everyone here, including ourselves. Kamani is waiting for you over there by the door where you came in.”

Midnight bowed to the doctor. It seemed somehow appropriate. He bowed back to her.

“I’ll see you next week,” he said, and walked back over to the fountain, contemplating the pillar.

Kamani led her back down the hallway, and they stopped in a surprisingly mundane, clinical room.

“Hop up on the table here, if you don’t mind,” he said.

He poked and prodded at her back and shoulders until she wondered if he was tenderizing her for a roast, and then nodded.

“Looks great,” he said. “The seed has taken root. Normally wings would take up to six months to break, but we’ve developed a way to help that along, because it can be very painful. And the less time you spend in that stage, the better, for dealing with the world out there. This,” he said, pulling a little vial out of a small refrigerator, “is something the medical people synthesized from Ka’aulele blood. It’s a hormone of sorts, and it will help accelerate the process of bone growth and hollowing without causing any sort of long term harm. Or so all of our tests and experience and theory have shown. They’ll sprout within two months. It’s up to you. Do you want it, or do you want to wait?”

Bone hollowing? She didn’t remember anything about that from the whirlwind of experiences over the past few weeks. What a wild ride she had gotten herself on; but it made sense with what she knew of bird anatomy. It would make her lighter.

Midnight hesitated for a moment. She definitely wanted her wings as quickly as she could get them. But some extra time might help her with arranging the situation with her parents and friends. Some serious damage control would be needed there. Pain for an extended period of time did not sound exciting. But she didn’t want to get twenty years into her winged life and suddenly have them fall apart on her due to having the process sped up.

Her indecision was causing her anxiety, until she remembered the Song. The Song that still ran through her now, somehow. She went still and listened. Kamani nodded and smiled. The Song reassured her, and she came to her decision.

“I’ll do it,” she said.

Besides, it was cool in a superlative way to have real Ka’aulele biotics of any kind running through her system.

Kamani grabbed a syringe from a drawer and added a needle to the end. He carefully drew some of the liquid from the vial, and stored it back in the refrigerator. He felt around with two fingers until he found a vein, and then dabbed her arm with a bit of alcohol on a cotton ball. The needle poked, he squeezed the plunger more slowly than Midnight would have liked, and then the needle was out and a cotton ball was held over it. He put a bit of medical tape over it and threw the syringe into a disposal container.

“Many hormones are normally injected into muscles,” he explained. “But this goes into the blood. All right, my young friend. Don’t forget that, to the world out there, you’re Aile again. You can tell anyone you like, of course, but people tend not to react well, especially at this stage. So I don’t recommend it.”

He walked her down the hallway and up another spiral staircase, this one considerably taller to take into account Ka’aulele wings.

To Aile’s surprise, the final door he opened for her led directly into a maintenance area near the Jussieu Métro station.

“Take this,” he said, handing her a small card. “Hold it near the sensor on the door, and you’ll be inside. Please be back here next Tuesday around 18:00 for your first patient-help volunteering. See you next week!” He waved and the door closed behind him.

Aile took a #7 train back toward the transfer point at Châtelet. It had only been a couple of hours, but it seemed rather surreal. She could remember her life up to the point of entering the Catacombs, and then there was a period of extremely strange, but beautiful experiences. And then poof, here she was again, continuing that life from before.

Except not. Her insides still felt tingly around her shoulders, and modified Ka’aulele biotics were running all through her system. Some people might have been frightened by that, or worried that they were somehow not as human anymore. Aile simply hugged herself and smiled.