Hi, my name is Will. Will Robinson to be precise.
I guess you can say that I’m just like the rest of the most of you. I don’t have any glaring physical deformities or extra appendages. I don’t harbor vast amounts of ill will or thoughts of violence against my fellow man. It would never cross my mind to rob somebody at gunpoint or physically abuse a child or for that matter, any other kind of living thing. I’m just your average run of the mill Joe that you wouldn’t give a second glance to if we passed each other on the street.
How I got where I am today really doesn't matter. In the end, I guess the only thing that separates me from you is that I’m writing this from deep inside a coma. I know, I know, that sounds hard to believe but it seems that even though I’ve been categorized as brain dead I’m still able to communicate via my thoughts to an old computer tucked away somewhere in the basement where I used to live. It’s an old outdated one that’s been replaced many times over but somehow I could never seem to bring myself to part with it.
It’s as if I’ve been somehow plugged in and my thoughts are transformed into words that are captured on the computer's disk for eternity. The damn thing even spell checks them for me so I don’t have to keep rethinking them every minute.
Let me try and begin to describe my experiences here inside my comatose state.
I hear things going on all around me. I sense when the nurses come and go and feel the kindness inside of them as they massage my limbs so that they don’t stiffen into steel rods and to keep my blood pumping through them. I feel their compassion as they shift me around in the bed that has become my prison so that I won’t get bed sores. I’m amazed at their efficiency as they change the various catheters and tubes that protrude from what seems like every part of my body. I weep inside at their patience as they remove and replace various bags attached to me that are there to capture my bodily waste.
As for you my dear family, I hear your prayers that wish me a speedy and full recovery. I hear your words that are meant to bring me a degree of comfort and regale me with stories of the day’s events and of things from the past. I feel your touch as you caress my head and gaze into my unblinking eyes and yes, I feel the warmth of your tears as they slowly melt from your eyes and dribble down your cheeks onto my arms.
My face remains stoic and I inwardly grimace as I hear the doctors and their stark prognosis for my future. The words "perpetual catatonic state” sting my ears and I hear other options being discussed about ending my life here on earth as a form of mercy. I want to shout at the top of my lungs when a mutual decision is made to “pull the plug” and cast my spirit and soul into unknown places.
The day arrives and last rites are performed. The tubes are removed, the ventilator is unplugged and I slowly feel the life drain out of me. I am now nothing but light and energy travelling at break neck speed across the universe. I will know nothing of my loved ones futures and what will become of them.
Flash forward a few months later.
What’s left of Will Robinson’s family have decided that a change is in order. They want to escape the bad memories of what happened to their loving husband and father. They decide it’s time to leave their lifelong home and start off on a new adventure and try and forget the events and the tragedy of their not so recent past. As they're going through their belongings making various decisions on what to throw out, what to sell and what to keep a voice cries out from the basement.
”Hey Mom, look what I found! It’s Dad’s old computer!”
”Jeez, I haven’t seen that thing in ages. Bring it up here and let’s have a look…”
The computer is brought up from the basement. It is dusted off and even though the battery, just like its former owner, has long since died it can still be plugged in. The family gathers around the kitchen table and a power cord is produced. The computer blinks to life and it takes awhile but the blue screen is finally replaced by the images of the thoughts of the father. They have been now transcribed into words for his family to read and to ponder over for the rest of their lives.
Happy Halloween everybody!