How had this happened overnight? I had gone from a pretty anonymous physicist to the worlds most hated one. I stared at my face plastered all over the front of my Sunday newspaper. I have to change this.

My name is Dr. Peter Van Zandt. I write these final words with the most unimaginable regret. If any single sole survives, and my notes are ever read, I humbly beg your forgiveness for the things I have done. So much suffering, so much anger. I simply believed that humanity needed a remedy. It was never intended for financial gain. Back in November of 2023 I began experimenting with the combination of ingredients. All natural, I never wanted a cocktail of chemicals, and you try getting that past the FDA. I digress. I misjudged my actions in two ways. Firstly by posting the combination of ingredients on every imaginable social media platform ( as I stated earlier I never did it make my fortune) Secondly I never conducted clinical trials, and as a revered nutritionist I really should have known better.
It started innocuously enough. As word spread, and believe me it spread, people turned away from drugs, alcohol, away from the big pharmaceutical’s. Humanity slowly began to change. People seemed happier, more content, patient with each other, no man or woman was an island, neighbours helped neighbours, it was like the clock had turned back 100 years. I was happy. One day I was walking down Fifth Avenue in June of 2024 and saw an old man stumble and fall over, within seconds a hundred people were fussing over/ helping him. A year earlier they would have carried on walking, even walked over him, cell phones glued to there ears. Well, that was then. To clarify, so you know, whoever is reading this. Never mix… no I’ll stop for now, I have a bottle of bourbon ( a good one ! ) and twenty pills. The end will be sweet, I know that, but bitter too. Anyway, I’m getting a little tipsy. Let me get back to the crux of what happened. So, things started going wrong in August of 23, billions where wiped off the New York Stock Exchange, stocks plummeted globally. Maybe people just didn’t care anymore, people seemed more concerned with setting up parties on there front lawns. Doctors, nurses, lawyers, engineers, farmers, just never came back to work. Neither did the police or military. but, people where happy. Then it collapsed, society that is. People happily starved to death, got ill and never sought medical attention, a pandemic of disregard. I have no idea if any country escaped it, the news stopped months ago. Before I go, I hope I go with the memory of my wife and I in Spain 10 years ago coming out of a little taverna on the beach at night. Walking along the beach hand in hand. Making love with the waves crashing behind us, the moonlight touching her face and hair. That would be a lovely thought to close my eyes to and drift away.

                              Farewell.

It was an ordinary morning. Drinking coffee by the city view, contemplating the worlds biggest questions. Until, I turned on the tv.

A blond woman with teeth as white as plaster sits next to a big old looking man in a tux.

“Breaking new” the shiny woman says. “A man know as Dr. Roivas, has been accused of treason, slander, and harassment after his meeting on climate change.”

Treason? Slander? I try recalling anything bad I could have said, but nothing comes so minds. I just talked about the oncoming after affect of climate change.

“Thank you Chrissy” says the big man in a growl. “Now onto Bob, with an exclusive interview with Tammy Witherspoon, a victim of his lies.”

The screen switches to a room where a man with slick black hair interviews a middle aged woman with short blonde hair sit. I can’t recognize the woman. Not even a bit

Bob get comfy in his leather chair, and says “Ms. Witherspoon, do you mind sharing your side of the story?”

Gasping for air and whimpering, with no tears coming out, she says, “yea Bob, I would love to. So-“ she stops and looks at the camera. “I’m sorry this is really hard” she whimpers.

Bob pats her in the back and whispers, “take your time.”

After taking out a handkerchief and patting lightly her eyes, she commences her story.

“I went to the climate change talk, or whatever it was, because I am an eco-friendly, environmentalist, body positivity, influencer. So I took my kids, because they gave children under twelve free snacks. And I was utterly HORRIFIED when that man started talking! He started talking about how my generation screwed us over and such, and that we are all in danger. He started showing pictures of destroyed villages, dying animals, and more gross stuff I don’t even want to look at. So, like, I was mad! And then, you won’t believe what happened. He said that what we have done is irreversible damage. I am trying to teach my kids all mistakes can be fixed, and that we never give up. So he is spreading LIES! Before I go on, I just want to say you can follow me at Karen vlog”

She rambles on and on about the lies and threats I spread. But it all goes in one ear and comes out the other.

“This is total BS!” I scream at the TV, knowing it serves no us.

I open up my cell phone to find not thousands, but millions of notifications.

I scroll through social media, to find articles, memes, and comments about me. All negative.

#banthecrazyearthlover and #thisisallalie are common tags I see.

I open up a clip, of someone who recorded my speech.

I stand at the stage, confidently informing the people.

“We have gone past the irreversible line of damage. 20 million people this year will die because of it. And is we don’t do anything now, it will get worse.”

Hundreds of retweets. Thousands of comments. Millions of voices. All hating me.

I just tried spreading the truth. But I guess we have to sugar coat everything these days.

There I was in my office stair, it’s slight spinning entertaining me. I could hear heavy footsteps approaching my door; I braced myself.

“Vegetables are bad for you?!”

My assistant barges in with papers in hand and sweat pooling in his pits. He often grosses me out.

“Can you even comprehend the backlash you will get? There is no way that this is even true; The scientific community will not accept it!”

I stand from my chair. Manically.

“You see, I have a peer reviewed paper with extensive research. There is nothing any scientist can do to disprove my work. Nothing. I made sure of it,” I say, a slimy smile tightening around my lips. “Go ahead, publish it.”

A worried expression, he looks at my timidly, like a frail dog, and he attempts to speak. I know exactly what he is going to say.

“Even If, overnight, I become the world’s most unpopular scientist…? To rid the world of those evil veggie demons, I will sacrifice. Never again shall a child look at a plate and say, ‘Eww, broccoli’ or ‘Gross! a bowl of spinach’. It is for the children! Starting today, those bitter plants will loose their reputation, and so will I”

“This is the dumbest idea you have concocted yet. It’s worst then the one about replacing the Dewey Decimal Syste-“

“Hush now! It is time to bask in my infinite glory!” I proudly proclaim. I stand on the desk, and I feel the warmth of my sacrifice. The sun, like a golden shower, fills me with pride. Today, everything will change.

Upon drinking my coffee while dressed in my dark blue robe, the protestors outside my lab erupted sound like a volcano that echoed to the top floor of my lab. Officers dressed in riot shields lined the people who yelled with their “String’I’m up” signs and eyed my window with a laser point stare.

The sky today makes me want to curl back up in bed, not to mention the protesters, but they won’t get in. It wasn’t my fault, I promise. How could I know that my weather machine would actually cause an earthquake? I tried to give Manhattan a snow fall on Christmas Day, but I demolished half the city in one swoop. The only reason I even have protection is the threat I made to the government. Gullible fools don’t understand that it’s not remote control. They could come in now and end my life and I’d never have a chance to use it again. I am now the equivalent of an angry god to these fools.

A rock just came through my window, but I’m fine. It’s to be expected. The officers have tackled the man who threw it to the ground. It looks like he’s being taken away in cuffs to a cop car.

I expected them, but now I see the army coming up to dismiss the crowd. Maybe I should give them the thunder of my newfound godhood? No, I’m not mad with them.

A sound is coming from the hall behind me. I told them not to enter the building. I run to my lab bed, grab the box with a revolver from under my bed, and use my bed for cover. The bed sits near the wall, and it puts me in a good location.

“You bleed just like the rest of us, come out, come out, where ever you are!” I hear sneakers scuffing the tile floor with screeches. I don’t see him. “You deserve to hang,” he says.

“Don’t make me destroy the other half of New York!”

“I have nothing to lose, you creep. You made sure of that. Is this what you used?”

I run out and see him over the key panel.

“Hello, my dear scientist. I bet you bleed red.”

He pulls a knife. I raise the revolver. “You brought a knife to gun fight,” I said.

I fire, but I miss and he tackles me to the ground. My gun slides to the side and he fumbles the knife. I kick him off and grab the knife, stand, and grab him. I start stabbing him without an aim. Up, down, up, down.

He drops to the floor and red pools at my feet. “Screw you.” He holds the wound at his stomach. “Why don’t you just die!?” He breathes for a few minutes more, then stops as his eyes go placid.

This must be my blood sacrifice, but I am not appeased. Security failed me.

I go to the key panel, buttons and switches that only I understand. The revolver landed near the seat for the panel. I pick the revolver, put it to my temple with one hand. With the other, I target the state of California.

It’s true, I am not a god. Let’s see who deserves to die. I down take the revolver, remove all but one bullet, spin the chamber, and put it back to my temple and pull the trigger.

The people decide Right from Wrong; they shoot protesting voices on their parades for individuality. They are a colorful quilt that bled to create a muddy puce. Brilliant colors come together to form something resembling vomit. Of course they won't understand when I try to explain that it was really I who was Right. They convicted me before the final bang of the judge's gavel. I call it science, they call it murder. I call it genius, they call it psychopathic. It's all really the same, isn't it? There was never a discovery made at no expense. Never intelligence without a small dose of madness. I'm not heartless; I chose my subjects well. Did I deceive? Manipulate? Yes. How was I to obtain people to study if they were aware that stepping into my lab was the equivalent of their deaths? These were people who, had it not been for me, would have died without impact. No one, their neighbors, their family, would notice their absence. Experiment, murder. To-may-to, to-mah-to. So maybe I am just a tad psychopathic. Does that make me Wrong by default?

I thought they would praise me, I've worked so hard, I did this for them. But now they hate me. They don't understand what I had to sacrifice, I gave up everything. They just don't understand. But that's fine, they will. But I guess in hindsight, bringing people back from the dead as zombies wasn't the best idea.

I woke up feeling dizzy,can’t walk can’t stand up,no strength made me nothing can do,I’m a popular scientist,but I felt sick today so I phone a doctor to see me if I am sick,after a few minutes the doctor arrived,he come and see.

“You are sick,you need to stay at bed” he said.

Then he gave me a kind of weird medicine let me to ate it everyday and let me to stay at bed for today,so I cooked ate slept then when it night an enormous bad news for me happened,I’m a popular scientist before if you know but now I’m the world most unpopular scientist and this could be my worst nightmare then it show me a chart the chart have all the scientists so I carefully scan the chart and when it the last one I saw my name Bob Ng.

“No way this is not possible I’m POPULAR!”I yelled with my whole strength.

This was ridiculous I’m now not famous this nightmare was the hardest day to slept even I try thought it did not worked at all.

But I slept later.

The next day I brushed my teeth and said,

“Hello cool Bob another day to be a best scientist”

Then I remember I’m the worst scientist in the world now I have nothing but I didn’t felt sick today that impressive.Then I went to slept.

“The get off my lawn 3000!” I said to the crowd below. “Equipped with two mini guns, six state of the art nuclear war missiles, four automatic rifles in these compartments on both sides of the seat, and it still mows your lawn!” “Is this some sort of joke to you?” the chairman of scientific development asked. “No I said, I actually think it is quite practical. You can absolutely obliterate your annoying neighbours, or take of the world! You could even form get off my lawn 3000 gangs all the while, pardon me for saying it again but mowing your lawn!” “Someone get this coot out of here” said the chairman, “it’s to late! I said, the get off my lawn 3000 is already coming hot off the manufacturers!” “Somebody shut him up!!!” I AM THE GREATEST SCIENTIST IN THE WORLD!!!

The human heart is an amazing thing, the centre cog integral to a machine unmatched in sheer complexity. Pumping several dozen million gallons of blood and beating billions more throughout a lifetime, there truly is no equal. This is why, most likely, many frowned upon your recent breakthrough. ‘Frowned upon’, to put it lightly.

“You can’t be serious, Dr. Retford? Are you saying this was tested on actual human beings?” The first reporter yelled.

“What ramifications will this have on the medical world? On the criminal world, the black market?” Another cut in.

“This is devilry, plain and simple, Retford! Your ‘breakthrough’ has damned us all!” A third shrieked. That last one wasn’t even a reporter. Not a reputable one. So you damned the whole world in your pursuit of “science.” Or was it the guilt? Yet another selfish and drastic attempt to atone for your failures. It doesn’t matter. Why you did it is a question for yesterday, before you revealed such a dark truth to the masses. Before you made undeveloped, frozen hearts a commodity. A better question for you would be…

“What will you do about it now?” Standing in front of an ocean of cameras and microphones, you raise your head and begin to talk.

“I am sorry if some of you think my findings reprehensible but I do truly believe this to be the path forward. The path to true human evolution, to the end of so much suffering. I will continue to experiment and test my research so as to eliminate all other variables, but in the meantime…” You take a deep breath. “I intend to roll out my research to medical research centres worldwide to allow fresh eyes to do the same. Tomorrow. Together, we will eliminate heart disease. We will eliminate disease of the genetic variety, and we will eliminate the risk of lethal infections. That is what I, what we, will do in the coming months.”

The crowd quiets, reporters taking in the first words out of your mouth since the announcement. Undoubtedly, many are wondering what prompted this explanation as nobody in the crowd asked you such a question. With only a scant few seconds of peace, the outrage resumes. The evening is long and difficult, but you stick to your convictions, never giving in to the crowd or swaying from the subject at hand. Confident, or full of yourself, about the conference and the masses ‘understanding nature’, you, the great Niall Retford, retire to your car. Unknowing of the consequences that await you.

Whilst on the road home, you reflect on your answers and the future of your discovery. So involved in your thoughts are you that not once do you notice the car trailing behind, its headlights off. I could warn you, but this is your story, not mine. Not anymore. The car stops on the corner while you pull into your driveway, four houses down from the turn. You step out of your car onto the concrete and turn to face your home. This is quickly turning into my favourite part so far. But I don’t want it to end, not here.

“Behind you, raise your arm.” With a single heel turn, you whip around and catch a blunt object with your forearm. The pain covers your entire arm, stunning you just long enough for a second assailant to grab you from behind, holding you in place. You feel blood trailing down your hands. Try as you might, your house lies between two streetlights, cloaked in darkness. Whoever is assaulting you is hidden from sight. In your panic, you fail to make out the weapon. A classic wooden bat lined with nails. To your credit, not even your own life is enough to offer up your research as a bargaining chip. For a moment, the attacker stares you down without a word. You realize in that instant, that they want nothing from you. Negotiating would be fruitless, as they simply want you dead, no doubt because of what you discovered. And who could blame them? You’ve threatened the lives of children around the world. Their children. And that’s what makes the first swing of the bat all too satisfying.

The man brings the bat up high, your eyes following the silhouette until the last second. In a few hours, you’ll miss this sight. And you’ll wish it were just a little more final. The pain of the blow washes over your head, blinding you with a flash of white-hot light behind your eyes and scattering your thoughts to the wind. The man holding you up releases you, dropping you to the pavement. You don’t feel the concrete hit the side of your face. Amusingly, you’ve managed to stay conscious up until this moment. But no longer. Your world fades to nothing as you forfeit the life of the once-great Doctor Nialls Svara Retford.

Had you simply arrived home and slept, dreams may have taken you. Or maybe nightmares, if you felt the slightest hint of remorse. But you pass the hours laid out on the sidewalk, dreamless, and bloodied. And just as you always have, leaving behind a mess for others to clean up for you.

…

“Wake up.” A flash of lightning tears through your head as you squeeze your eyes shut. The entire night rushes back into focus. The prep meeting, the conference, and the attempt on your life. Your breath quickens, not realizing hours have passed since that memory. You push yourself up with clenched fists, only to slip back to your knees. Below you sits what remains of a pool of blood, slowly trickling into the gutter. Your hand holds tightly to your forehead, bracing against the booming migraine. You feel the grievous wound under your palm, the blood dried all over your forehead and down your face. Through squinted eyes, you can make out the shapes of three people. Two in front, and one behind you. All splayed out on the pavement and lawn, Your vision has not yet cleared, allowing you some minutes of reprieve from your situation. But you will see. Taking a step toward your house, your foot hits something. You kneel, very carefully, and feel with your free hand. A box, a rectangle, a container. Finding the latch, you lift the lid off and are greeted with the cold air escaping its prison. With great caution, you feel around the cooler and count three bags.

“Take it inside.” You put the lid back on and hold the cooler in your free arm, and continue into your house. Your vision returns as you reach the kitchen, the dim blue lights of various devices illuminating the room just enough. Having placed it on the table, you once more peer into the cooler and lift the bags. Even in the dim lighting, you can make out the contents. And why wouldn’t you? It’s been the subject of your research for years now. You drop the bag back in the cooler and turn to sprint outside. Back by the sidewalk, you rush to examine the three shapes. Each of your attackers lay lifeless, their hearts cut out of their chests. Ripped out. A dozen thoughts swim through your mind, lost in a thick miasma of static, mixing together and leading to nothing. Fumbling in your pockets, you produce your car keys and throw open the door. The side of your car is stained with blood, and not even I know whether it’s yours or theirs. With the sun just beginning to rise, you speed off to who-knows-where. Confused, concussed, and terrified. Just like I once was.

“Why are you running, Nialls?”

“What are you so scared of?”

“Turn back. Face the music. Live how we lived.” You ignore the voices, staring but not looking at the road ahead. Sweat drips off of your forehead and coats your hands squeezing tight to the wheel. No matter where you go, your life is over. The world will know you as the researcher who consumed the frozen hearts of children. The media will affectionately call you the Cold-Hearted Killer. And those once closest to you will celebrate your downfall, for you abandoned them long ago. I will do all three, and lead you, guiding you through your new life as a fugitive and murderer. Not out of love, or necessity, but to keep you alive. To keep you thinking of all the horrors you’ve committed to them. To me.

“Take a left, Nialls the ‘Cold-Hearted’.” You listen and take a left. Eventually, we will meet again, face to face. But not now. Not until you’ve learned what suffering truly is.