It was a short time into the surgery when Sam found himself alone in the hospital room, seated by his younger self’s bed, watching the ventilator push air through the patient’s lungs. Sam was hunched over, his hands clasped at his chin. He was feeling particularly rudderless now.
“Just you and me now,” said the ever-present ghost, still leaning against the wall.
“I’m not doing it.”
Young Sam took a few steps towards him. “I’m only trying to help you. I want to save you the torment of losing everything about yourself. It happened to me already, remember? It stinks! Wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
“And what happens then? You die, then I get undone, then you don’t die again, and we’re put into an endless… thing…” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose as he realised he’d lost the word he was looking for. “You know.”
Young Sam had a look of pity on his face as he watched Sam struggle for his vocabulary. “A temporal paradox.”
“Yeah. That.”
“All I can say to that is… trust me.”
Sam glared up at him. “Well, I can’t do that.”
“How did I grow up to be such a stubborn old man?” a smirk tickled at Young Sam’s lips.
“Everything builds on what came before it,” replied Sam, and he couldn’t quite recall why that particular phrase had come to him.
Young Sam chuckled, and took a seat on the side of the bed. “So, we’re at an impasse, then.”
Sam shrugged. “Looks that way.”
“Mister—? Oh, he’s in surgery already,” came a new voice from the doorway. Sam looked up to find Professor LoNigro leaning into the room. He caught Sam’s eye.
“Uh… good morning,” he said cautiously. “…Sam?”
“Yeah, I haven’t gone anywhere,” Sam said in a resigned tone, returning to his pensive posture.
The professor continued into the room, as Young Sam watched with an unreadable expression.
“How are you?” the professor asked, studying Sam’s face. “Have you experienced any decline in—”
“I sure have,” Sam cut in. “It’s been miserable.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I keep forgetting things, I can barely walk straight, and I have the added bonus of seeing things that aren’t there.”
“Hallucinations?”
“Hallucinations! That’s the word I’ve been trying to remember,” Sam said with a frustrated sigh. He cradled his forehead in his hands. “I’ve tried everything to get out of here, but… I’m out of ideas.”
“I have an idea…” Young Sam said, holding up a finger.
“Oh, pipe down,” Sam snapped.
He rolled his eyes before glancing back at the bewildered professor. “…Hallucinations.”
“Hmm. So you followed my suggestion?” asked the professor, continuing the conversation.
“Look Professor, I don’t even remember what I had for breakfast. You’ll have to remind me what you suggested.”
A look of pity passed over Professor LoNigro’s face – a look Sam had been experiencing too much lately – and he leaned against the end of the bed, crossing his arms.
“I suggested you complete the task you came here to do… whatever that might have been.”
“Oh, right!” Sam exclaimed as the conversation returned to him. “Yes, I did that already. No good.”
In the moment of silence that followed, Sam realised that his ghostly counterpart was no longer in his eyeline. He glanced around, not catching sight of the apparition.
Wait, is he finally gone?
“Damn,” came a muffled voice from below. Sam peered down, and saw Young Sam on his hands and knees under the bed, reaching out to the power outlet that connected the life support machines. His hand passed through it. “Come on…” he mumbled, his fingers closing on themselves.
“Stop that,” Sam hissed at him.
“I’m just a hallucination, right?” he said as he grasped at the plug. “No need to worry about me being able to pull this out then, is there?”
Sam winced as the hand once again clutched at, but slipped through, the plug.
“What are you seeing now?” asked the professor, his voice laced with worry.
Sam frowned, and pointed at the unconscious man in the bed. “Him… kind of.”
Sam waved off the professor’s concerned glance.
“He keeps asking me to turn off the machines. He’s under the bed trying to do it himself right now, but he can’t get a hold of the plug because he isn’t real.” He raised his voice on the last two words, making sure Young Sam could hear it.
“Alrighty,” came the voice from under the bed, in a chipper tone. “Please keep ignoring me; it’ll help me concentrate.”
“Why does he want you to turn off the machines?” asked Professor LoNigro, intrigued.
“Because it’s the only way out of this paradox,” called out Young Sam.
Sam narrowed his eyes, peering under the bed. “No, it’ll start the paradox, dammit!”
“Not according to the man upstairs.”
“This again…” Sam looked back up to the Professor, rubbing his temples. “He thinks that by him dying, the paradox can be ended. But he’s full of it.”
“Yes, I’d be quite hesitant to trust a hallucination,” the professor agreed. “Particularly when a life hangs in the balance. I would suggest ignoring him.”
“Oh, I’ve been trying, believe me.”
Sam heard another grumble from beneath the bed, as Young Sam once more failed to get a hold of the plug. “It wasn’t nearly this hard to slap you in the face,” he lamented.
Sam huffed, avoiding looking down at him.
“All things considered, you seem to be taking this well,” said the professor, with a stroke of his chin.
“All things considered… sure,” Sam said with a wry look, which turned to panic when the life support machines suddenly lost power.
“No…” Sam said, and dove under the bed where Young Sam was laughing with a triumphant relief, beside the plug on the floor.
Sam frantically grabbed at the cord, and pushed it back into the wall.
“Hey! You have no idea how exhausting that was!” Young Sam protested.
Professor LoNigro’s alarmed face appeared under the bed. “Good Lord. How could…”
“Ghost stuff,” Sam muttered, staring daggers at Young Sam.