Author’s note: the first use of the polio vaccine was at The Mayo Clinic on April 13, 1955
The whooshing sound of the thing echoed in pervasive tones, fulfilling its utilitarian and life-saving purposes. A quasi-cyborg, making itself known by encapsulating four young children in the breathing, tenement structure it had become.
“This will be a day long remembered,” said Shane, stoically.
“You’re an idiot,” said Josie, sighing in rhythm with the machine exhaling for her.
“I’m telling you… it’s coming… my fart is going to be so big, it’s going to break this iron lung, and we are all going to die,” Shane continued.
“If that’s the case, I think the smell would kill us first,” said Faye.
“The thing about odors…” began Jesse.
“All of you can go to hell!” interrupted Shane. “I’m gonna do it anyway!” And with that, he started grunting, straining, trying to fight what the machine was doing to him.
“I don’t think you will know if you farted even if you do,” said Josie. “How much can you actually feel anyway? You’re in a giant coffin, for Christ’s sake!”
“So are all you assholes!” cried Shane. “Besides,” he said. “My mind will be able to tell even if I can’t feel it. There’ll be uh… uh… release. Yes, that’s it! A fucking release!”
“I’m gonna tell the nurse you cursed something horrible, Shane!” taunted Faye.
“NO YOU’RE NOT!” exclaimed Josie. “I want to see if this plan works! If we die, we die. It’s not like we’ll miss out on anything. We all got polio and we got it bad! We’re gonna die pretty soon, I think” she said, lowering her voice. “I heard the doctor talking to the nurse about us, especially about me and Jesse. I think he said something about finally getting out of this lung—which means we’re goners. Funny, but I don’t feel that bad, at least not as much as I did… maybe it’s the calm before the end. So, you listen good, Faye! Don’t be a whiney little bitch and rat on poor Shane! If he wants to fart and put us out of all our misery by suffocating us or breaking the machine, let him do it!”
“Well, maybe I don’t want to die, Josie. Maybe I ain’t ready. I mean the apple sauce is pretty good, here. They put cinnamon in it,” said Faye, licking and smacking her lips.
“You know, this here mechanism is one of the first of its kind. We’re like guinea pigs. It’s like we each have our own apartments in the same building. Sort of roommates, like my older brother is in college. It’s like we’re in college,” said Jesse, ruminating.
“No, it’s not like we’re in fucking college, you moron! The only thing like college is the fact we’re in some kinda lab or that we’re pulled out like trays. Do any of you remember what this room looks like all the way through?” asked Josie.
“Not really,” said Shane. “Oh wait! I actually remember it’s kinda long, like a hallway. Can any of you crane your heads to see?”
“Why don’t you do it?” asked Faye.
“He can’t do it, you idiot, because he’s in the top right corner, closest to the wall, like me! It has to be you or Jesse. Jesus!” exclaimed Josie.
“Well, you don’t have to take our Lord and Savior’s name in vain, Josie,” whimpered Faye.
“I’ll do what I damn well please, Faye, especially when you piss the be-Jesus out of me!” Josie both laughed and tried to yell these words.
Faye giggled and they all heard a slight squeak.
“Was that you, Shane? Did you do it? Did you finally fart?” asked Jesse, trying to sense something in the air.
“Are you kidding?” screamed Josie. “That couldn’t have been Shane. Have you seen his face? It’s as round as a punkin pie. His farts must be as loud as a thunderclap or somethin’…”
“Heee Heee,” laughed Faye.
“Oh, it’s only Faye. She’s a squeaker. You little shit,” said Josie.
“That’s not fair! This is supposed to be my show, my big bang. We’re gonna go out in a blaze of glory!” yelled Shane enthusiastically and disappointedly at the same time.
“Where’d you get that from, The Lone Ranger?” asked Josie.
“As a matter of fact, it was from this really sensational villain in a Batman comic book I read. Boy, I sure do miss comic books,” said Shane, his voice cracking a bit. “And I’m not fat, if that’s what you mean, Josie. I’ll have you know that before I got polio, I hadn’t lost my baby fat yet. And then after I got it, well, you know, I couldn’t move much anymore. So, I guess, I still have it, um…, my baby fat that is.”
“It’s ok,” said Josie. “You’re a pretty good ole chap in my book, Shane.”
“You know,” said Jesse. “FDR had polio, and my dad says he’s the greatest president who ever lived. He saved us from the D’pressshhn,” Jesse lisped and heaved out this last part. “My dad helped build sewers and water treatment plants and pipelines and such, to people’s houses.”
“Uhoh, here it comes, the history lesson, again,” said Faye.
“So that’s what we’ve been smellin’,” laughed Shane.
“Naw, that’s Faye’s fart,” giggled Josie.
Then they all laughed, as hard as they could, as hard as any kids could who could barely move, who could barely breathe, who were lodged into manmade holes in an angular device, like dormant torpedoes in an unmoving submarine. Those unlucky enough to be born just a bit too early.
The next morning, 6:00 am, March 2, 1955
“Nurse Amanda?”
“Yes, Shane?”
“Um, where is Faye? I don’t see her. Her tube is empty.”
“She’s been released, Shane. She’s free of the, the device,” said the nurse, carefully. Then she looked guiltily at the back of her hand, at the knuckles that were red and chapped. The bell from down the hall sounded, and she scurried away.
“Um, Guys? Do you think she got to go home? That she got well enough to leave?” asked Shane.
“It’s funny how nurses and doctors say things,” mused Jesse. “Nurses, I imagine, look at the floor when they talk, lookin’ for some place other than at you or into your eyes. Doctors, on the other hand, look at a blank wall or if they do look at you when saying somethin’ about your condissin’.” Here, Jesse lisped and shook a bit. “They look right through you, as if you’re not there at all.”
“Hmmm…” said Shane. “That’s how they spoke to my Uncle Marty when he had ‘sepzeez’. I remember. They looked at him but through him, at the same time. Then he died the next night.” Silence followed Shane’s memory. “Then I got polio two months later. I went swimming at the blue hole with my cousins. The next day after school, I felt real tired and took a nap. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I couldn’t move much. And I peed myself.” Shane whispered this last part, not sure if he said it or not and, then, embarrassedly, he didn’t say anything else for a while.
“If you peed yourself and didn’t know it the first night you got polio, how the hell would you ever be able to tell if you farted or not for this experiment of yours?” asked Josie, with both rudeness and playfulness in her voice. There was no response, except for a faint sniffle.
“Well, anyway, is nobody going to ask the elephant in the room question?” Josie said more than asked.
“Do you mean if Faye has died or gone home? That what you mean, Josie?” asked Jesse.
“Bingo! Pin the tail on the genius!” said Josie.
“I’m figuring that most in our position, having slept through the night, that is, would come to the conclusion that there’s a high ‘prob’ility’ that Faye is a ‘goner’, as you put it yesterday, Josie.” Then Jesse paused for a second, shuddered a bit, and continued. “I’m inclined to believe the ‘prob’ility’ that she is no longer with us.” And before Josie could chime in sarcastically about this sentence, Jesse said, “Faye is dead.”
“How do you know?” asked Shane, after his embarrassed moment of silence had passed.
“I feel an emptiness,” Jesse paused and seemed to want to hiccup and then immediately continued. “Left by her absence from the tube. Not like she went home to watch I Love Lucy or somethin’ like that, but like there’s this ember that used to be a fire but, now, the ember’s not even there anymore. It’s more like a cold ash blown away by the wind.”
“J-E-S-U-S-H-C-H-R-I-S-T!” exclaimed Josie, elongating every sound of every letter. “What encyclopedia did your head plow into when you lost the use of your legs, Jesse? I mean if this don’t take the syrup! Of course she’s dead. I was awake, pretendin’ to be asleep when the nurse came to check on us. There was this whisperin’ creek that came out of Faye’s mouth as she was sleepin’. The nurse came fifteen minutes later, but I knew it was too late. I sorta fell asleep for a minute and then the doctor came with another nurse, I think. I think there were three of them. Anyway, they pulled her tray out. I could see them do it out of the corner of my left eye, still squinting a bit so they wouldn’t know I was awake. They don’t like us to know when someone’s a gonner. They never tell. But I’m guessing this is how the others went out, the ones before Faye. Remember Buddy? And Jester? And Alice? Oh, I miss Alice so much! She was so beautiful. All that golden hair. And then there was the colored girl in her own, single tube. Gene. Yes, that was her name. She was so funny. All she could talk about was missing her kitty. And remember how her mom would come in every day to fix her hair and put blue and pink barrettes on her pigtails? Then there was that day she was told her mom got runover in a hit and run chasing after the cat. Gene just cried and cried. Cried herself right to death. I sure do miss her! Well, that’s four, not counting Faye that us three have outlived, and Faye was here the shortest and she seemed the strongest, except for she was so tiny. Am I leaving anyone out?”
“King Henry,” both boys said at the same time.
“Oh, yes,” said Faye. “I can’t believe I forgot King Henry. He was so handsome with his wavy black hair and when I could see his eyebrows, they looked painted on, they were so perfect. Tyrone Power. That’s who he looked like.”
“Yeah, I guess,” said Shane jealously but with an underlying good humor. “Oh… but there’s one we’re all forgettin’ ‘bout!”
For a moment, no one said a word. All three children tried to form a clear picture in their minds, since so much of their shared world was dreamlike.
“No, not him, Shane. Let’s not count him. Please, Shane. I mean, we can count him and not count him at the same time. Know what I mean?”
“I know what you mean, Josie,” said Jesse. “It’s ‘cause he was kinda mean to you and Shane. He didn’t know how to respond to your jokes or laugh the way you two always laugh, even though we’re all stuck in here waitin’ to die. He just didn’t… fit in. I think he came in angry, not ‘cause a the polio but ‘cause he was angry to begin with. Somethin’ bad, I think, happened to him early on.”
“Do you remember all those horrible curse words he said before he croaked?” asked Shane. “I ain’t never heard nothin’ like that before. And then those soft, gurgling screams in his sleep even before that. He was a real character. I mean, like a comic book character. All those sounds and strange ways of sayin’ somethin’ after somebody else said somethin’.”
“Why did you say ‘croaked’?” asked Josie. No one answered. “Why… did you say croaked, Shane?” asked Josie more mysteriously this time.
Jesse answered instead. “You guys are forgetting one thing. What he said before he died. Not the curse words, which came before, and not the sounds, which came after. But what he said between. ‘I am ready to die. FUCK THIS SHIT!’ and then Dink Baker’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. I could see him just enough to tell.” As Jesse replayed the scene, the other two children were as silent as frozen mice. “And then the noises started, like there was a frog in his throat, like there was a whole passel full of frogs in his throat, like he was croaking with one last gasp.”
“Why did you have to remind us?” asked Shane. “I was pretty satisfied not rememberin’.”
“It’s not somethin’ we’re likely to forget, even if we think we do. Don’t you think so, Josie?” asked Jesse. “Josie?”
“No, Jesse. It’s not somethin’ we’re likely to forget. Even if it was all a dream.”
March 21, 1955
There was a slight thump, as Josie’s body left the tray and was placed on a gurney. Jesse knew the wheels needed oiling badly by the squeaking and scraping they made. He stared up at the paneled, white ceiling.
“Jesse?” asked Shane. “Did they wheel her away? I tried not to listen. Maybe they’re just runnin’ some tests. That could be it. She’s just pretending to be asleep like always, and they’re just gonna run some tests. Don’t you think that’s it?”
“Did you know that if you stare carefully enough at these ceiling panels, you can make out brushstrokes, shapes of white on white. Like they’re layered clouds. And it’s kinda like we’re, where we are now, that is, we’re living in a city in the clouds. We don’t even have to breathe for ourselves. The atmosphere is perfect. And it breathes for us. And we just float on our backs from cloud to cloud.”
“But didn’t you hear what I said about Josie?” asked Shane, again.
“Yes, Shane. She’s gone.”
“Oh c’mon, Jesse. Don’t say that. There’s still a chance. You know, that she’s pretendin’. Another one of her jokes. She’s got those nurses and doctors fooled. She’ll probably be the one to fart on their testing table. They’ll get mad at first, and then they’ll all start laughing. They’ll pretend to be angry with her when they bring her back here, with us.”
“She’s gone, Shane. But those clouds are still here.”
March 31, 1955
“Jesse?”
“Yes, Shane?”
“I miss Josie. I can’t believe it’s been two weeks.”
“It’s only been ten days, Shane.”
“How do you know? It feels like two weeks!” exclaimed Shane. “It feels longer,” Shane said more softly this time.
“Well, I reckon it’s been ten days, since I heard Nurse Amanda correct Nurse Emily about what date it was today. Nurse Emily was saying, ‘Since it’s the first of April, Amanda…’ and then was interrupted by Nurse Amanda, who said, ‘it’s the thirty-first, Emily, not the first. See? I got my planner right here.’ I guess she opened it up and showed Nurse Emily right then and there, ‘cause Nurse Emily humfffed herself away real fast.”
“I’m sorry Jesse. I wasn’t trying to say you’re wrong or nothin’. I was just sayin’ it seemed longer.”
“The thing about time…”
“Please, not now, Jesse. Just let me get myself situated. My mind don’t seem to work right today. I can’t even remember what happened yesterday.”
“It’s ok, Shane. You’ll get clear. I see your cloud rising.”
After a long pause, Jesse said, “Tell me more about that comic book you were talkin’ about the other day.”
“Huh? Oh, oh yeah. The Batman one.”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“Well, it seems to me, Jesse, that I remember Batman was perched like, uh, uh, what are those stone things that people carved and put on ole churches and such?”
“Gargoyles.”
“Yes, that’s it. Gargolls. Well, he was perched atop this ledge like one of them gargolls overlooking the city and was real high up. Like he wasn’t scared or worried or anything. He was just waitin’ and watchin’. None of them villains stands a chance when he’s doing that. ‘Cause he’s real smart, like you, Jesse. Prob’ly smarter. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“OK, good. Well, he soared out once he spotted a bank robber and glided his way down to him and punched him. There were these words in like these bubbles or clouds that spelled out noises. You know, like noises somebody would make when hittin’ you. Well, that was Batman hittin’ the bank robber. It was like two or three hits and the bank robber was out on his back, lookin’ real stiff. Then Batman wraps him up in a thin rope that he gets from his utility belt. Then the cops come and get him but because they’re good guys, they take him to the hospital first to make sure he’s alright. Then they send him straight to jail.”
“So Batman never kills anybody?” asked Jesse.
“No,” answered Shane.
“Not even if they’re real bad guys?”
“Never,” said Shane confidently. “He can beat them up real good, but he never kills. That’s part of his code of ethics. Say, Jesse?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s an ‘ethics’?”
“Ethics,” said Jessie, “I think, are rules ya live by. Some, I think, you can make up yourself and others a whole bunch of people, like important people, or a whole country can make up.”
“So Batman lives up to his rules plus everybody else’s?”
“I don’t know,” said Jesse. “It seems to me, based on what you’ve told me about him from the comic books, that he kinda changes the rules a bit to fit his scheme of things. But not in a really bad way, just a kind of sneaky way, so he’s got the advantage against the really bad guys. But this might just be ‘specolation’.”
“Jesse?”
“Yeah, Shane?”
“Is it OK if I loved Josie?”
“I don’t see why not. Why would you think it’s not OK?”
“I don’t know. I guess I started lovin’ her after she was gone.”
“I admit,” reflected Jesse, “that there’s somethin’ peculiar about it all. But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. Sometimes you’re walkin’ or talkin’ along with somebody else and then that person just up and goes away. Then, I guess, you realize, ‘Gosh, Darnit! I loved that human bein’!’”
“Thank you, Jesse.”
“For what, Shane?”
“Aw nothin’.”
April 1, 1955
Shane’s cheeks looked sunken when he was put on the gurney. The baby fat suddenly was gone, as if it miraculously disappeared. It was as if Shane grew up overnight and died.
“You were awake, weren’t you, Jesse? You saw what happened… didn’t you,” said Nurse Emily, almost whispering in his ear.
“Those gurney casters need oiling, Nurse Emily. I can hear them going down the long hall.”
“Why Jesse, there’s no long hallway. What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know… I guess we’ve always thought we lived in a hallway. I can hear the gurney moving for a long way before I can’t hear it anymore.”
“No, Jesse. This room is a perfect square. There are other units here besides the one you shared. Unfortunately, you didn’t have your own individual unit. I don’t know if I’d of liked that if I had… if I was in your position. You know, sharing a space with three others, considering everything.”
“I didn’t mind,” said Jesse stoically. “Nurse Emily?”
“Yes, Jesse?”
“Where are the other units? Are they close? I know Gene’s was behind my head some distance down the hall, I mean just yonder.”
“Well, Jesse, they’re just over there, on the other side of this big unit of yours towards the door to this facility. All those are single units and were separate from your shared one and Miss Gene’s.”
“Nurse Emily?”
“Yes, Jesse,” said Nurse Emily, a bit irritated this time. “Where’s Miss, I mean Nurse Amanda? She’s supposed to be workin’ this shift, isn’t she?”
“Um, I don’t know about that. I mean people’s schedules change a lot here.”
“Not hers,” said Jesse.
“I think I know more about nurse’s schedules than you, Mister Man. You just quit worrying about things you can’t control and don’t know about.”
“Did you know that many, many years ago, a scientist discovered a nebula far away in outer space. He discovered it with a telescope. And he saw these finger-like things. They looked like long fingers or elephant trunks reaching out into space.”
“Why? Did you see a picture of it or something? You sure are a strange little boy.”
“No, I don’t think they have the technology to take a good picture of something so far away like that, at least not yet.”
“Well, if you can spot it, can’t you take a picture of it?”
“I don’t know all the details, but I don’t think it works like that, Nurse Emily,” said Jesse in monotone. “It’s part of a larger nebula called the Eagle Nebula. And they call those finger-like things that reach out into space The Pillars of Creation. I think it has something to do with Jesus, and his capacity for cosmic love and knowledge.”
“I bet you want to see that, don’t you, Jesse,” said Nurse Emily with disinterest in her voice.
“I sure do. I will,” said Jesse, with resignation.
“What makes you so smart, Jesse? I mean how do you know so much?”
“I read.”
“What do you mean? How do you read, Jesse?”
“My brother comes and reads to me.”
“What? Here? I’ve never seen him come or read to you. Don’t fib, Jesse. It’s just as bad as a lie.”
“I’m not lying. He was reading to me before you started working here.”
“Well, why hasn’t he been by since I’ve been working?” she asked.
“He’s in college. He’s real smart. He says he’s going to get degrees in astronomy and math.”
“Now you’re just showin’ off, young man.”
“No, I’m not. You can ask him for yourself. He’s right behind you.”
“Now don’t fool around with me, Mister Man. Just because you’re in that thing doesn’t mean that you can play tricks on me.”
“Hi, my name is Jean-Baptiste. I’m Jesse’s brother.”
Nurse Emily about jumped out of her whites. She jerked around, flustered to the bone. “Oh, Hi. I’m Nurse Emily and me and your, uh, your brother were talkin’ about space things.”
“I know. Nice to meet you.”
“Well,” said Nurse Emily. “If you’ll excuse me… I’ve got other patients.”
As she scurried away, Jean-Baptiste said under his breath, “I bet you do.”
“Why did you tell her your name was Jean-Baptiste?” asked Jesse.
“I don’t know. It sounded right at the time. How ya doin, Jesse? You look like you could tear the ear off a steer!”
“Liar,” said Jesse in monotone.
“Looks like some of your fellow residents have been evicted,” said Jesse’s brother.
“You could say that,” said Jesse.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too. I love them. All of them. Maybe, I’ve always loved them.”
“I know how you feel,” said Jesse’s brother.
“I know,” said Jesse.
In a lighter tone, not meant to offend, Jesse’s brother mused, “I bet you’ll have all new tenants tomorrow.”
“I prob’ly will,” said Jesse.
“Probably,” corrected the older brother.
“Huh? Oh, right,” agreed Jesse. “What did you bring to read this time?”
“I brought something different, this time. Ha ha.”
“Why? What’s so funny? Why is it so different?” asked Jesse.
“I don’t know. It just is.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a comic book.”
“You’ve never brought one of those before,” said Jesse with suspicion.
“I don’t know. This one just stood out to me is all. It’s a Batman comic, and he’s sittin’ on this…”
And then Jesse’s brother’s voice trailed off down the long hallway like a lost cloud, down the hall that united one facility to the next, and then to another, and another after that.