Science Fiction Story: "Late Night Call"
Jolson turns over in bed and flips on the light on the nightstand. He takes a couple of deep breaths and brushes back his unkempt hair with his fingers. He picks up a cell phone and punches in a number.
"Yeah, hi, it's me. I know. I know what time it is. I'm sorry but something weird is going on. Well, this will sound nuts, but I think I have an alien inside my brain. Yeah, an alien. I woke up about 11:00 and felt a pain in my ear. I impulsively reached there with my hand. I felt something. Something that had legs. Sort of like an insect. It moved incredibly fast. I felt a sharp pain as it went inside then nothing. I thought I was just experiencing some kind of nightmare upon awakening or partial awakening. But, it put a zap on me, so I went for the Jack Daniels and finished off about half the bottle before I could go back to sleep."
"About an hour later I felt a dull headache at the center of my head. I attributed it to the alcohol, but it felt different. I don't know how to describe it."
"No man, I really do not want to go to emergency. Why? Because they'll do an MRI and they'll find something like a giant grasshopper inside my skull. They'll drill me open to get at it. I don't have that on my agenda, you know. Even if they can get at the thing, I may be left in a vegetative state, do you get that. How would you like it? Would that make you rush down to the hospital?
"I know, I know, I know. There are all sorts of parasites that can enter your head, but nothing of this size. And I can just feel it sitting there. And man I am freaking."
"I don't believe in aliens either, but something is up there. It moved with a purpose, a definite purpose.
"No, not so far. I can't recognize any change in anything other than that dull pain. If it's plan is to take me over, it's taking its sweet time. No, no, it's not talking to me."
"Oh, so that's your answer. Just shoot myself in the brain. I don't even own a damn gun. Is this what I get by calling you? I'm ready to jump out the window anyway and you tell me to kill the thing with a bullet. I'm suppose to sacrifice myself for what... mankind? Dude, you are totally not helping me out here."
Neils on the cell phone: "Look, Jolson, if everything you say is true, you don't have any choice. Do you understand? You have no choice. You have to let the surgeons get that thing out. For all you know it's planning to burst out of your forehead anyway."
Jolson: "Oh, oh, thanks for that. I needed that extra bit of encouragement."
Neils: Get the damn MRI done. If they have to go in, maybe the thing can be extracted without any permanent damage."
Neils: "I know that doesn't sound like a very pleasant answer, but, seriously, it's the only one you've got.
Jolson: "Oh, man."
Neils: "Now I can meet you at the hospital."
The door to Jolson's apartment explodes inward. An uncountable number of men wearing white environmental suits swiftly enter the apartment. Jolson stands there, mouth open, not moving. One of the men puts his mask close to Jolson's face. "Son, we're going to have to take you to a facility."
Man with the mask: " Who are you talking to?"
Jolson: "That's Neils, my friend Neils."
The Man with the mask: "I'm sorry but I'm going to terminate this call for reasons of national security." He drops the cell phone to the floor.
Jolson: "What's going on?
The man with the mask: "You'll get your answers at the facility. We know about your problem and are here to help."
Jolson looks behind and sees the man with the mask stepping on his cell phone.
Jolson: "I don't want to go."
The man with the mask: "I'm afraid you don't have any choice, son. Now, just come along. It'll be all right."
Jolson: "I'm going to die."
The man with the mask: "We're doing what's best for you." He turns to an aid and says, "Okay, wrap him." The aid and another man pull a plastic sheath over Jolson. They gently place Jolson onto a gurney then lower a clear, plastic case. Jolson has the brief thought of being a wedge of butter inside a container. "Okay, get him out of here. All right. What's the next address?"