Chapter 7

            My parents gave me the name Viktor with the wish that I would be capable of overcoming any challenge I faced. It was a name that would come to suit me uncannily well throughout my life, though not necessarily in the way they had imagined. In addition, I received from them the surname Kovac, along with their hopes that I would one day become a successful and prosperous son. They were not wealthy by any means, but I was their only child, so they spared no expense in my education, sending me to private institutions throughout my days as a student.

            From my youth, many adults referred to me as "gifted," a prodigy who excelled in any subject which captured my interest. Unfortunately, I soon learned that most children do not like it when you are better than them in something in which they believe they are talented; furthermore, almost no one likes it when you are superior to them in every aspect, regardless of how much effort they put into their studies or hobbies. Thus, I soon came to associate a new meaning with that term, "gifted": one who is pushed away, a phrase which is highly reflective of how I spent the majority of my childhood.

            It was upsetting at first, but in time I learned to adapt. As one who had become ignored, my interests became those that did not require the company of others, which ironically allowed me to excel even further ahead of my peers. My passion became my intellectual studies, and I ultimately spent much of my time either in the library or on the new computer that my parents had recently purchased. I also took up an interest in music, taking lessons in the violin and piano at the suggestion of my parents. I was fairly capable in sports and other physical activities, and while I was not among the best, my abilities in most other aspects seemed to make this unbearable to others, as I did not seem to have any particular weakness. What they did not realize was that their behavior around me had indeed endowed me with a particularly significant disadvantage: that of being unable to socialize with others.

            I did not blame them for this; rather, I was quite understanding of their reactions. I would feel quite the same if I met someone who could best me in any manner of competition, regardless of my effort to improve myself. Thus, my competitive nature diminished into nothing, and I ceased comparing myself to others' performances, becoming concerned only with my own. On some rare occasions, someone would ask me for assistance with a problem and I would be more than willing to oblige, but that was about the limitation of my social interactions throughout primary school.

            This was reasonably disconcerting to my parents, who wished to see me get along with other students of my age, but in time I came to pay it no mind. As I progressed through my schooling, some were willing to put aside their resentment in order to try to befriend me, be it out of curiosity or merely out of pity. Still, while I did not begrudge them, I simply felt no desire to reciprocate their attempts to connect with me, and would only oblige their apparent interest with brief, casual conversation. I gained many acquaintances, but I continued to lack a relationship with one whom I could identify as a friend.

            My years as a high school student passed, although by the time I graduated most of my work was being done at the university. I was not really required to remain in high school as long as I did, and in fact many teachers tried to convince me to graduate earlier. However, as one who had become keenly aware of drawing such negative attention to myself, I felt that it would be in bad taste to enter a university full-time at such a young age. I was content with remaining in my same grade, albeit in name only, and attended the university only as an advanced high school student, allowing me to protect my anonymity to a degree. Once I finally entered the university, I was already preparing to begin my graduate studies, though I was able to keep that information discrete from most of my fellows.

            It was during this time period that I finally met someone who, unbeknownst to me at the time, would become my dearest friend. A young man by the name of Patrick McDonough, he was a rather eccentric individual who was many years my senior. We met in one of my graduate-level physics classes, so we were about matched in terms of intellect, but he was quite well-spoken and far outclassed me in wit and sociability. I am not entirely certain how he took such a keen interest in me, but he seemed entirely incapable of leaving me alone for some reason. When I asked him about this many years later, he simply laughed and said, "I have no idea, you just struck me as the kinda person I wanted to hang around," although I partly believe he was not being entirely truthful when he said that.

            From the outside, Patrick was a rather kind and carefree individual. He was never too busy to help someone out if they asked him. At times, I felt like other people were taking advantage of him, but he never seemed to mind all that much when I pointed this out. I could not determine whether he felt somehow obligated to others, or if he simply enjoyed when others relied upon him. Still, I believe many avoided him because others were somewhat unnerved by his quiet, observant demeanor. I found this particularly ironic, because whenever he and I were together by ourselves, it seemed as if he would speak incessantly about all manner of subjects until his voice began to fail.

            In spite of his talkativeness in my presence, he otherwise seemed rather solitary. Some days, I would notice him wandering about on his own without any particular direction. I had no idea if he ever had any goal when he was out walking, but I would find him in some rather unexpected places at unexpected times. I rarely ever called out to him, but I always would watch for a few moments to see where he might be going.

            We had many similarities in both our thoughts and our personalities. I suppose if there were any particular difference that separated us, it would be that he had a much more holistic perspective of things, unlike my tendency to categorize information in to distinct subjects. We both had a strong interest in the study of the physical world, yet we had completely different approaches to the subject. In my attempt to advance quickly, I spent much of my time focused strictly on the subjects I needed to understand my area of interest. Patrick, on the other hand, had much more worldly experience and diversity of knowledge, and he loved trying to tie everything together.

            In his mind, physics was not just physics; the study of the universe incorporated all manner of subjects. While he would spend most of his time researching physics, he would also read books and journals on his own time about other scientific fields, mathematics, philosophy, religion, language, literature, and anything else he thought tied into the overall study of the world around him. I found it especially odd that, though he did not seem to be a particularly religious person, he had an avid interest in learning about religious philosophies in addition to his study of other secular schools of philosophy. To him, everything was tied to physics, and I think I came to admire that perspective he had developed.

            Eventually, we both completed our theses and managed to end up working together for many years. While we performed experimental research as part of our positions at the university, we also co-wrote more than a few papers together on physical theory. There were times when I encountered some controversial scenarios with other associates trying to steal research or ideas, but I never felt that I had to worry about Patrick. I like to think that we both had a certain level of mutual respect for each other in spite of the differences in our age and experience, and that this lead to a powerful, implicit trust that we shared between us. I believe that, at its core, it had to do with how we both felt that our work was not about payment, recognition, nor even acceptance in the scientific community; it was merely an honest, innocent, deeply-seeded curiosity we shared about ourselves and the world in which we live.

            I've only attended three funerals in my life: for my mother, for my father, and for my friend Patrick McDonough. My mother, who was already in her late thirties by the time I was born, fell ill and passed on at the age of 71. My father, who was distraught, followed her only a year later. While I mourned the loss of my parents, I think Patrick's passing hit me the hardest, for his was the only that I could not help but weep as I stood by his grave. At 40, he was involved in a severe traffic accident from which he never recovered. When I heard the news, I dropped everything and went straight to the hospital, but I never saw him wake up again. In 31 years, I had never cried as much as when I knelt by his bedside as they finally decided to remove his life support. I was the only one present.

            More than two years have passed since then, and now I find myself in a hospital bed. I was informed that I collapsed while working, and now the doctors are waiting for results from the tests they took to see what might be the problem. I notice that there is no one present save the hospital staff, and I remember Patrick's final moments. That no one has come to visit does not distress me; I only wish that I were able to see his face once more.

            For now, though, I am rather exhausted, so I will rest...

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            The moment I regain my senses, I realize that nothing is as it was. This bed, this room, and most peculiarly this body are all different from those which I occupied when I was last coherent. I could not say if I am particularly disturbed by any of these realizations, but I have become extremely apprehensive about this bizarre scenario. In the same moment, however, everything seems to be oddly familiar to the point that, should I concentrate enough, I feel that I can recall certain scenes in my head that played out in this very room. Slowly, my senses sharpen as the fog of my deep sleep fades, and I begin trying to analyze this situation.

            Before I can make much progress, however, I suddenly hear footsteps approaching. I see a figure appear on the other side of the door, and the sound of the door latch breaks the silence.

Reviews

[Kuro]

Really nice chapter. My interest has been stoked once again.