Alexander in Vivo (working title)

Jake Lee Cooper is your average American. He works in a well-known corporation, has a very nice car, along with his corner office (with a view), complete with his own very healthy 401k, and loves his family including his Golden Retriever. What isn’t so average about Jake is his other side, the one that snorts cocaine, parties with hookers, is covered in tattoos, and lives a life apart from society and the law. They both are the same man, but they couldn’t be more different. Jake was exposed to a vaccine as a fetus in his mother’s womb, and it caused mental deformations that created him in two realities, both real and separate, but intimately linked. The Alexander Corporation is aware of his special case, and is hunting him down for research. Will Jake be able to conquer his fears, and addictions, to save himself from the Corporation?

A snowstorm swirled inside Jake’s nasal cavity, soon the smell of sweat, cheap perfume, and cigarettes replaced the numbing drip going down the back of his throat. Opening his eyes, he saw a little bit of coke still lying there. Dabbing it up with his finger, he stuck it under his tongue and let the drug take his brain wherever it wanted. The hooker lying across his lap murmured a slur of incoherent words, and turned on her back taking Jake’s makeshift table away from him.
What a filthy whore he thought, but she does have a nice ass, definitely fit for snorting coke off of, as well as looking at.
He lit a cigarette and let it dangle precariously from his lips, gazing at his surroundings. A dirty motel room, with cockroaches in the corners, water stains on the ceiling, empty bottles of booze, and cigarette butts scattered about. The rabbit ear antennae bent with the TV full of static. One lamp with a shade askew, another bearing a broken bulb and no shade. There were burn marks on the bed around him, and a puddle of vomit in the far corner of the room.
Fuck it, he continued to himself, it’s not like they have any of MY plastic.
Not that he had any credit cards; a dirtbag like him couldn’t even get a bank account. Like he would ever use a bank in the first place. Banks imply taxes; he was above that, or below it. Whichever way you chose to look at it.
As he got up and pulled on his dirty jeans, well worn, and with the odor to prove it, he noticed another hooker lying on the floor.
Man, that was some party last night. He murmured to himself.
Walking to the bathroom, he stubbed his toe on the table, and angrily slammed the table into the wall. Scratching his balls, he stumbled to the counter and took a swig of a dwindling supply of cheap vodka. Parting his greasy hair, he peered into the mirror, and looked deep in his eyes.
He wanted to find out more on his other side, and decided to check out of this reality for a while. Taking a deep breath, he held it in until he couldn’t see anything but the blackness of his pupils dilating, the world swirling, and his brain shutting down, he soon lost consciousness and woke up on the other side of town..

Jake awoke to his alarm clock blaring god awful tones. His Egyptian cotton sheets beneath him sweaty with the terrors of last night’s dreams clung to his back as he sat up and looked at his wife. Her vivid blue eyes covered with a purple sleeping mask, she turned on her side and put the pillow over her ear to mute out the noise. He reached over and instinctively shut off the alarm. He didn’t need the clock’s illuminated display to know that it was 4 in the morning. The same time he had been waking up all these years; ever since he was an intern at the company, those first long, drawn out years, filled with late nights and early mornings, coffee fetching and paper shuffling. The occasional ass kissing, the dry cocktail parties, and meaningless Christmas dinners. The years of taking orders and being the butt of jokes. The humiliation and pathetic paychecks. Then it moved into those years rising above his colleagues to get that ultimate prize, the corner office with a view, and the salary with all the perks attached to it.
Life had never been easy. Back in college, locking himself away in his dorm room during all the parties. To those first few years in that cramped apartment with Mandarin yells echoing through the walls. The smells of the Chinese restaurant below still lingered in his memory; it was almost sickening how familiar it had all become.
At least it had taught him Mandarin, he thought to himself, a skill which happened to come in very handy when dealing with foreign clients.
He slipped off the bed and pulled on his robe, walking into the master bath. He drew the water for his shower, and urinated in the toilet; making sure to close the lid when he was finished. He disrobed and got in the shower, the warm water steaming the mirrors. Standing in the jet of water pouring down upon his body, warming him up, preparing him for the stressful day ahead, he closed his eyes and contemplated all the dreams he had been having lately. The dreams and the accident. The car crash that had left him with a broken shoulder, caused him to get a concussion, and had recently gotten him on Vicodin, in order to help out with the pain from his whiplash and broken shoulder.
Upon his exit from the shower, he was drying off with a towel when he noticed the message written across the steamed mirrors. The message, just like the others that had been happening since the accident.
The message simply read: “Good morning rich boy.”
He smeared the message away, and sat on the stool, collecting himself. His life had been going just as it had been planned, and then the accident, and now, everything was changing. Now the world that he had spent so many years meticulously planning and preparing for was crashing down around his ears. Destroyed by someone other than himself, but in all essence, was actually him. The anger was uncontrollable, the fury unstoppable, and he had no way, no means of letting it out. It just sat there boiling inside of him, melting his thoughts and plans, as he sat idly by, and watched it all slip away. He stood up from the stool and opened his medicine cabinet. Taking an orange pill bottle from the top shelf, he opened it and dumped three doses into his hand. Ducking his head under the bathroom faucet he gulped them down and stared at himself in the mirror, trying to figure out what he was going to do to make this entire situation come to a screeching halt. Arriving at no real solution, he eventually broke out of his trance and started getting ready for work.

Hey Jake, did you get that memo put out about the new client we picked up last week? Piped Tom Kipling, Jake’s chief competitor and fellow senior sales associate.
While Jake technically had managerial precedence over everyone on his floor, Tom chose to ignore it since Jake’s job spectrum had recently been appended to include dabbling in customer relations, to protect his salary with the company’s ever-tightening budget.
Tom continued, those customer info files need to be updated ASAP. Mr. Henderson was very adamant about this new customer being the big one, and wants them on first priority. He said move all the other clients to beginner sales associates so our senior reps can focus on the needs of Alexander.
Wait a minute Tom, did you just say Alexander? Interrupted Jake.
Yeah, of course I did Jake, where the hell have you been all week? Weren’t you at the board meeting Friday? We just picked them up and they are expected to produce double the sales of last quarter in a month! You need to catch up man; this is big, real big.
“Well it’s only Monday, so cut me some slack. I’ve had a long weekend” said Jake giving Tom the ’I’m still your boss, jerk off’ look. Besides last Friday I was out meeting with the Oleander clients, trying to push that sale of safety needles through. It would be a great shot in the arm for everyone. Jake said with a little smirk.
Failing to get the joke, Tom replied, Right. Well anyways, you should get with Paula to get the minutes for the meeting.
Alright Tom, I will. Now, can I get to work, or are you going to talk my ear off the whole day? Jake said shortly.
Oh I’ll be on my way; I’ve got my own fires to tend. Don’t forget about that memo! Tom called over his shoulder as he walked away.
Jake took out his dwindling bottle of Vicodin. He popped the lid off and dropped the last three white pills into his hand. He stared at them for a moment, the pills forming a little makeshift triangle in his palm. He smiled momentarily thinking about the Alexander Corporation’s logo. The logo seen on all of their commercials, buildings, and cars. It was such a massive corporation it was no bull that they could double the company’s sales with ease. They were quickly becoming the forerunners in the vaccine universe and were supplying just about every country in the world with some form of medical aid in one way or another. Tyrannical almost seemed to fit, nobody dared call monopoly. They were too afraid to see the rise in health care that would follow if they were challenged. Alexander was the world’s future health provider, and there was no choice but to fall in and be happy with what you got. Sighing he placed the empty container on his desk.
He rubbed his eyes for a moment, brooding about why the Alexander Corporation made him so uneasy. The name had appeared on his mirror two weeks ago, along with Coming for you written underneath it.
These ghostly messages were really starting to unnerve him, and his dreams had been nightmarish since the bathroom messages had appeared.
In his dreams he saw some junkie who looked remarkably like him, doing dastardly things, and having gratuitous sex in disgusting places, not to mention the killings, the horrible killings of people who actually do society some good; upholding citizens with families, and respectable jobs. Why the senseless violence? These thoughts plagued him as he broke into a cold sweat, and started shaking.
Just as he was about to lose it, he was snapped out of his daze by his intercom beeping.
Jake. Jake! Mr. Henderson wants to see you in his office right away. Paula yelled into her intercom and then slammed down the receiver.
Jake quietly knocked on Bob Henderson’s door, he could hear Bob talking on the phone and mashing the buttons of his calculator through the thin hollow core door.
The company’s building was nice, but it wasn’t really nice, just very expertly designed by a penny pinching professional. It looked the part of everything the company was.
Superficially pleasing, and well off, but once you were deeper inside, the makeup cracked, and the wrinkles showed. They had been facing the brink of bankruptcy for the past 10 years, and kept narrowly avoiding it. Riding the red line of corporate monotony, they knew they were in trouble. The stress of all of this had taken a toll on the people aware of it, and of course word traveled fast in the company.
People were starting to lose faith in Bob, and he was well aware of it. This Alexander Corporation was going to be the lifeblood of the company in Mr. Henderson’s eyes. He knew what the sales would do for the budget, and his retirement. He also knew of the renewed faith it would bring from his associates and what it would do for him.
The Alexander Corporation specialized in medical supplies and immunizations. They had released several penny vaccinations, which were sweeping third world countries, saving lives, and bringing hope to those disease ridden countries.
For the past 10 years, while the rest of the country has been in severe economic decline, this company has been rising to the top; a shining ray of hope in these dismal times. A hope for all of these lost companies, for the people scared of disease, for everyone.
The commercials on the television never failed to mention the shining ray of hope either. Every commercial the same, every child’s face a magnification of the most powerful emotions known to mankind.
“The Alexander Corporation is dedicated to bringing health and prosperity to all reaches of the globe. Dedicated to the idea that all humans are created equal, and deserve to live life free of disease, fear, and sickness, we at Alexander Corporation unite, as a shining ray of hope, for those less fortunate than ourselves. Standing the test of time, we have been united together since the turn of the century and will continue on for many more years to come; in order to provide human kind with the medical assistance they deserve, and require. Alexander is here to help, and our countless services done throughout the globe are evidence of that. One hope, one race, one Corporation. Alexander.” These words echo around the room as the images cast in a small circle, placed in the middle of an entirely white screen, washed out from the light shining around them seize your attention, images of kids lying sick, gaunt with malnutrition, wearing no shoes, no clothes, and having no hope. Then it shows them receiving vaccines from people dressed entirely in white, except for the Alexander Corporation logo emblazoned red and blue on their chest; logos bearing the color of veins, and blood on a white background, the colors of the most powerful nation in the world. After all of these images tugging your heart stings making you want to send money to help these children in need, the contrast returns to normal, and shows the smiling faces of healthy children, playing outside, laughing and living. The colors so vibrant it almost hurts your eyes to watch. After all of the children fade away, the Alexander logo appears; big and bold, and in blindingly bright colors. Blood red, entwined with royal blue, standing against a white background; a logo standing for freedom, slavery, independence, life itself; overpowering your television with timeless symbolism. It stays there belittling you with magnificence, then slowly fades off the screen, the image burning into the darkness for the 5 seconds of black screen that always remains after the commercials. Leaving you with a feeling you’ve witnessed something unforgettable, something remarkably important.
Come in. Mr. Henderson called out from behind his desk.
Jake turned the knob, and opened the door, pausing in the frame of the door. You wanted to see me? Jake asked mildly.
Yes, yes, come in Jake, take a seat. Mr. Henderson said motioning towards the chair in front of his desk.
It was a cushioned faux leather immobile chair, with square metal rods as the legs; sturdy, somewhat comfortable, yet still economic. This chair described the office that Bob Henderson occupied, as well as the body he occupied. He was a shorter man, with a stocky build, a balding head, and gray hair that banded around the sides of his cranium. The office had a tan carpet, accented by a square grid pattern. The furniture was all stained a dark cherry with black faux leather accents. You could see his degrees and achievements on the wall behind him. He had a few pictures of his wife and kids on the right hand side of his desk. The remaining space on his desk was covered with papers scattered about, a computer screen that was exceptionally large, along with a mouse and keyboard. He had a well-worn calculator near him, and in front of his keyboard, indicating recent, frequent use. The buttons no longer displaying the numbers associated with them. But his tired old hands knew the keys well and ceaselessly typed out a string of numbers as he peered at the expense report for last month.
Sighing, he pressed the final key and took of his reading glasses and rubbed his face, then looked at Jake. Damn Jake, you look like death warmed over. What the hell happened to you this weekend? I didn’t see you at the board meeting Friday, and you’re the one person I was really hoping would take interest in this new account. It’s going to be the savior of this company, and you are the man I want spearheading the sales. Mr. Henderson continued, the client actually already knew of you, and requested you be the one who handled all business matters with them. I don’t know if they were contacted by one of our other clients, but they had a keen desire that it was solely you that they are dealing with. I knew you have had your plate full, as well as a lot on your mind lately so I offered them Tom, but they were insistent that it was no one but you to handle these matters. So I need you to pull off your other clients and let Tom take them over, and whatever Tom can’t handle will be put to the other associates.
Hold on a minute Bob, Jake interrupted. Did you just say that the client already knew about me?
Yes. Bob answered looking puzzled.
Suddenly Jake’s mind was reeling, images were flashing back to him from things he had witnessed in his dreams. Cold sweat rolled down his back, as icy breath raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Goosebumps rose on his arms, and his face paled. He started shaking and the edges of his vision were blurring. Reality was fading out, and Mr. Henderson’s office was beginning to be replaced with an empty street being battered with rain…
A woman was yelling into a cellphone underneath an umbrella pacing around outside a large skyscraper. The Alexander Corporation’s logo illuminated high on the building showering the darkening street in neon red glow. Several streetlights were out, and the dark clouds above only provided brief flashes of lightning as any source of light.
Cigarette smoke curled up around Jake’s nostrils as he watched the woman, pace back and forth having a heated argument over her phone. The details of which were drowned out among the noise of the rain crashing on the awning above him. His tattooed hand pinched the cigarette held between his teeth and flicked it into the puddle of water forming on the sidewalk. It went out with a hiss, just to be smashed by his chuck as he stood up from his chair and walked across the street to follow the woman, who was now walking down the street towards the corner.
She glanced behind her shoulder and quickened her pace as she saw him following her. His threatening appearance accented by the water soaked shirt revealing the outline of a pistol tucked in his waist band. He avidly followed her down an alleyway and into an abandoned seamstress factory. The woman clambered up the metal stairs, her stiletto heels getting caught in the holes, allowing Jake enough time to catch her and snag her by the arm. Pulling her back down the flight of stairs she had managed to climb, he threw her roughly into a chair sitting next to a dust covered sewing machine.
What the fuck do you want from me? Spat the woman.
Her blonde hair matted to her face, tangled from the chase. Jake lit a cigarette and looked at her calmly through his sunglasses.
I think I should be asking you the same thing. He said smoothly with a little ice in his voice. Who do you work for? He continued.
Glaring at him through bleeding mascara her blue bloodshot eyes held the determination of a child bartering with a parent for ice cream.
Smiling he said, so you want to play the quiet game eh? That’s okay, I have nowhere to be, and I have all the patience in the world. As he said this, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his lighter, playing with the flame, letting the metal heat up. The woman’s eyes began to see where the game was headed, and soon some of the determination was manipulated into fear.
I work for Alexander she spoke softly.
I see Jake said, happy to be making some progress. Why has Alexander been following me for two months? I thought you fucks were the feds sniffing around my trail.
How the fuck would I know? The woman cried out angrily. I don’t even know who the fuck you are! Jake took off his sunglasses and lowered himself so he was staring her in the face. My name is Jake Lee Cooper, and I know you are aware of who I am. Now tell me why I am being followed, or I am going to start making that pretty face of yours less pretty.
Her resolution cracked, the truth poured from her lips, my name is Elizabeth Hamilton. I have been working at Alexander for the last twelve years. Eleven of those years have been spent intimately working on a project I am a co-founder of: The Kairos project. Before the Kairos Project came to be; the preceding project known as The Chorion Project, was studying the complications of premature birth, and injecting a vaccine in order to combat Chorioamnionitis. Your mother was one of the first ten subjects ever tested on, and you are one of two survivors of the antigen. We haven’t found the other survivor, so you have been our main subject of focus. The Chorion Project’s research turned up anomalies in the brainwave patterns of the fetuses of the vaccinated mothers. There were only two surviving fetuses, yourself and another. Her name is Sara Livingston. The rest all died from brain failure. In all cases there were documented brain anomalies, but only the two of you survived. We believe it caused a rift in your mental perception of reality. In other words you don’t live in one specific reality, but rather are torn between two different dimensions. Spread out over the course of lifetimes, and living in two completely separate realities. She was continually speaking faster and faster, her excitement for the topic apparent in her enthusiastic manner. Our special team has been following you for research purposes. You have amazing potential, you could very well change the face of the future, but you will never do it snorting coke and living a life on the run. We were working on establishing contact with you in order to offer you the opportunity to work directly with the Project team and help us shape the face of the universe. As she spoke the last words, a fervent look crossed her face. Her eyes shone out with the fire of greed’s thirst, lust dripping from the edges of her words. She hung her head when she was finished, eyes closed, smiling to herself. Chuckling she looked at Jake once more, a hint of something else in her eyes. Not that you have any choice, she said with glee.
It was then a man came behind Jake, stabbing him in the neck with a needle and injecting a fast acting sedative into his neck, the world started fading out, and he awoke with his head hung.
Bob Henderson was fanatically snapping his fingers and shouting, Jake! Jake! Wake up!

Alexander in Vivo (working title)

Linc Brown

Kimball, United States

  • Artist

Artist's Description

Here it is, a little bit more, edited finally. As the last one I finally got around to reading and was appalled at all the mistakes. But I suppose that’s just what happens.

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desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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