Nothing prepared me for the turn my dream would take that night. It had been recurring for a few days before Jasper called me out of the blue.
The mucky water was monstrous this time around and I was stuck in it. Bubbles appeared on the surface as if there was a stove beneath the ground boiling the water. They would expand like balloons and burst, splashing mud on my face. I would swim to the edge and climb out. This night, I couldn't.
Jasper was in the mucky water too, facing away from me. I recognised that frame—that’s my son. I gasped and waddled towards him, my heart pounding loudly.
“Jasper? Are you alright?” He seemed lifeless, stock-still so I shook his shoulders. He turned to grab my forearms, splashing some muddy water around from his abrupt movement. His eyes were pitch-black and void. I screamed and struggled to get away from this eerie being. This couldn't be my son.
“Your heart. Give...me...your heart,” he sing-sang in a hoarse voice and would not let go, his sharp nails biting into my flesh. I woke up with a loud gasp, my hands and legs thrashing.
The rhythmic beep of monitors, the strong smell of antiseptic and the harsh glare of light bulbs brought me back to reality. I took a deep breath and sat upright on the sofa. Jasper's eyes were opened, staring at me. My heart lurched.
My twenty-year-old son was tall, six feet two, and formerly robust and muscular. The sight of his gaunt body, hidden beneath white linens and a sheet broke me. He'd been in an induced coma for a week. “Jasper?”
I stood and drew close to him. His eyes moved with me. The monitor beside him displayed a steady move of short lines and spikes across the screen. I gently place my hand in his palm. He wrapped his fingers around mine and held on. The tube in his mouth made communication difficult but his eyes said the exact same thing he voiced in my dream.
“I'll get the doctor,” I whispered and moved to detach my hand but he wouldn't let go. We stared at each other for a long moment.
* * * * *
“Your test came back positive which is highly probable as I told you,” said Khalid Mills, the chief cardiothoracic surgeon in the hospital where my son was admitted. “You're his mother and share similar human leukocyte antigen markers. But we've had a few cases where the mothers aren't a match.”
I nodded and stared at the white wall above his head, letting his explanation flow through me.
“It's a difficult decision to make but remember that times have changed. Medical science has evolved far beyond the twenty-first century. It's advanced now, especially with the use of our state-of-the-art, high-spec medic androids.”
“But it's risky!” I whispered harshly. He nodded. “True, the chances are even. You're healthy and your heart can live beyond the average human years.”
I sighed, stood and started to pace his office. I noticed the photo frame on a shelf—the doctor, his wife and two adult ladies smiling broadly. “Your daughters?” He gazed up from his writing and his eyes twinkled. “Yes.” He continued writing.
“If you were me, would you do it?”
Khalid Mills froze for a moment and glanced up. “I can't…it will be unethical to say anything that may sway your deci—”
“Answer me honestly. Please.”
“In a heartbeat.”
TO BE CONTINUED…..
Imagine living in a world where advanced technology and science allow you to share pieces of your heart with another person. Do you think Dr Mills can convince Jasper's mother to regenerate a piece of her heart for her son? But why does she hesitate?
See you in the next chapter of this story. Thank you for visiting my blog.
Image 1: Pixabay
Image 2: Cottonbro studio