Essence

I'm flattered that you were worried for me, really. Did you honestly think I was 'taken'? I can see you shaking your head right now. Or maybe your hands are shaking because you thought I was dead. Ha! Surprise! I'm not leaving anytime soon. Please, don't feel guilty for leaving me in that burning laboratory. I don't hold that against you at all. You thought that it was the only way to get rid of an abomination, and I agreed. But now I've had some time to think about it.

Not only did what we make not hurt people, but it helped them. Take that night in the hospital, for example. It was the first time we implemented this new invention. That's where it all started. We were both nervous, I recall. When the doctors came out and told us that it didn't work, that the patient had died, we were devastated. The poor man who just wanted a cure lost his life because of us. See, I did some digging. That old man was not an innocent victim — his prints matched those of a local serial killer from fifty years ago. The doctors speculate that his condition was caused by a combination of anxiety at being found and previous health issues. They'd even arrested another man decades ago for crimes he didn't commit. That's what got me thinking.

The invention wasn't specifically programmed to resolve his condition. That's what we expected, sure. That's why the doctors placed it near his heart. They thought it would fix what was physically wrong with him. But I've been turning it over and over in my mind, and I think it might have solved a problem we simply didn't know about. It killed him because the only way to save him was to get rid of the cause of his anxiety, but there is no way to get rid of the past. The only way to resolve it was to rid the world of the last person who knew what happened: Him.

Only, it didn't end there. They buried it with the body just like we asked. Better that the failed version be permanently disposed of, you said. You were always smart that way. We left the day after he died to build a new, better version in the lab. Police emptied out his house hours after our departure and found evidence that heavily implicates him in the deaths of all seven victims. I don't know why they never told us, or why we never went back to look.

One month later, we set our next experiment into motion. A volunteer from Oregon who heard about what we were doing took interest and applied. We were more confident because the issue was far more straightforward, just creaky joints in her hands that she wanted to fix. This time, the doctors split the invention in half and planted each part on top of her hands. Our new prototype didn't even need to enter the body in order to take effect. I remember how excited you were about that. I also remember the look of horror on your face when we watched her wrists bloodlessly disintegrate, when her bony hands fell away from her body. She screamed. So did we. The problem was straightforward, but the solution could not be. We programmed our invention to find the quickest fix to the issue at hand, and it did. It got rid of the issue with the joints, just not quite in the way we wanted it to. It was not evil; it was flawed.

Go figure, we had to bring it back into testing. I wanted to stop completely, but you insisted that we keep going. You saw its potential long before I did. This time, we came up with a name for it. Essence. You said it sounded sort of ethereal, like a magical fix to all of humanity's problems, and that's exactly what we needed. A miracle worker. We tested this new version many times before asking for a human volunteer.

Back before we tested successfully, I was afraid. I never had as much faith in our project as you did. Then again, you always were the adventurous one. You had the intelligence and the courage to put your wisdom to use. I had the former but lacked the latter, and maybe that's why I needed you. You found another volunteer, a younger man from Ireland who saw a post about our experiment and signed up immediately. We flew him to our lab and sat him down. We told him about the risks, at my insistence. He agreed wholeheartedly. He was young and just as eager as we were to achieve greatness. I used to consider that kind of blind ambition to be crass. I'm eternally grateful that you were there to prove me wrong.

To us, it felt like the procedure took hours. His complaint was about a pounding ache in his skull that would never leave. He told us that he'd seen every qualified specialist he could find, and not a single one of them could fix it for him — it was a kind of protrusion in his brain that would kill him to remove, so they left him alone and without a solution. We watched with feverish anticipation as the doctors placed the Essence over his eyes and forehead. It draped like a sheet of slime over his face, just like in our experimentations. We watched it dissolve through his skin. In reality, it took only seconds for the entire procedure to occur. He opened his eyes once it was fully absorbed and grinned at us. "It's gone!" He said. I don't think I've ever seen such joy on a person's face. The doctors did a scan. He was right. We fixed it, and no lives or limbs were lost.

The next week, we tested it on twenty more volunteers. Every single one was perfect. Sooner rather than later, it was ready to be commercialized. Essence, a solution to any physical issue a human might have. It can heal everything from broken bones and torn muscles to razor burn and hickeys. It quickly became popular, for obvious reasons. Hospitals and pharmacies around the world started stocking our invention. You were so proud.

Beginning with the Irish man, we paid all our volunteers handsomely. You suggested that we pay the woman from Oregon more to keep her quiet. I hesitated. You told me to think about all the people who were benefiting from the final product. If the public ever found out about what our prototypes did, it could hurt Essence's performance. I understood. We had built a flawless solution, and in order to sell it to the public, we needed to let them believe it was that way on the first try. Humans are an anxious species. We question perfection automatically, looking for a reason to abandon an old product and move on to a new one, but this was really perfect. I realized for the first and final time that we needed to protect our invention if we wanted to continue to heal our world.

And I still have no clue what changed your mind. I remember those long days in the early times trying to figure out how to mass produce Essence, when it really started to pick up. We would both go home late and get back to the lab early. Change requires hard work, and we were ready to put it in. I also remember that even after the first few weeks, you would stay late every night. You told me that I should go home in time to read my children a bedtime story. You said that you wouldn't leave too long after. I believed you for a few weeks, but it quickly became apparent that you weren't getting enough sleep. You'd come in with dark circles beneath your eyes. Your husband told me that he would go to sleep late and you wouldn't be home yet, but he would wake up with you in his arms. You were researching, I realized. But why would you be unwilling to share your work with me?

End of last year, I finally found out. You showed me stacks of papers filled with equations and sketches that you've spent the last few years compiling. None of it made sense until I got to the bottom of the heap. You'd collected dozens of cases where Essence users suddenly became violent. There were photographs of crime scenes and headshots of regular looking people whose eyes were overcome with a strange sort of emptiness. You told me that we needed to stop producing it, and that we needed to find a cure. You insisted that we were going to be responsible for something awful. Really, you made it sound like the world was going to end. I agreed with you because, as much as I hate to admit it, you're right most of the time.

It took us five months to determine that there was no cure at all. We couldn't stop producing it — the demand was far too high. Cases that might have been coincidences continued appearing, but at that point, most people had been exposed to Essence at least once. I was. The longer we worked on this project, the older we became. You aged with grace. I was not as lucky. I started having issues with my liver, and I decided that it would be poetic for me to use our very own invention to solve an issue of my own. Curiously, neither of us had used it until then. I can't remember why.

Before you found out that I used Essence, you treated me like a colleague. After, you got this look in your eyes like you were terrified of me. I told you that I felt fine. I know you didn't believe me, because important papers and sharp objects started disappearing from plain sight. You were hiding things from me. You thought I was dangerous, like the criminals you found in your research. Finally, we decided that there really was no antidote to what we had created. If we tried to reverse its results and extract it from the bodies of its users, the results would be catastrophic. People's conditions would return doubly as strong as they had been before. You looked at me, more level-headedly than you had in years, and told me that we needed to burn it all. You reminded me so much of your old self in that moment that I just agreed. I barely even thought about it. Maybe if I had, my response would have been different.

They — the kind people in this hospital — told me what they thought had happened after the fact, but they don't really know you. They said that I must have been trapped under that lab table by accident, and that you had never been on the scene. I was told that I was alone and handled chemicals irresponsibly. The lab was set aflame with me in it, and I was almost burned alive. But they don't remember your determined face. They didn't see you light the match. I did. Like I said before, I don't blame you. I remember the night well enough to know that the destruction you caused was justified. I remember losing my head for a second and going after you. I think I told you that the Essence 'took' me, and that you needed to burn it out of my skin to finish it. I don't remember very well. I know that it wasn't me talking. I've been in the middle of a rough patch, where my mind and voice don't exactly line up, but I feel much better now. Clearer.

Take as much time as you need. You don't need to come to me now. In fact, I fully understand why it might take you a few weeks or even months to reach out. As soon as you're ready, though, know that I'm ready for you. I want to talk in person about the research we've been doing for the past five months, about the violence and crimes. Suffice it to say that I'm convinced most of what we did was for nothing. It was a handful of coincidences that seemed to line up solely because of our paranoia.

You will realize eventually, I think, that I'm right. This one instance was the fault of my own distressed mind. Essence is a powerful and beautiful invention, and if you're prepared to continue working on it, then so am I.

Too soon, I need to say goodbye. My medications will be arriving any minute. Send my regards to your husband. I hope to see you both soon.

- Your partner, always

I DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME THE MORPHINE FINALLY MADE IT QUIET SO I CAN WRITE MY OWN WORDS THOSE WORDS ARE NOT MINE FIND THE MESSAGE I LEFT FOR YOU READ BACK THE FIRST WORD OF EACH PARAGRAPH PLEASE YOU'RE OUR LAST HOPE PL