Dr. Derrick Gladstone didn’t believe in God—whether it be the Judeo-Christian God, Allah, or any of the minor deities imagined to rule over the forces of nature. He believed all religion to be superstition and nonsense. His religion was science, and looking at life from a purely scientific standpoint, he could find nothing to suggest he should deny himself any pleasure or follow any kind of moral code. After all, we are here, and then we are nothing—what more is there than to pursue one’s own goals and fantasies? If it benefited him to be kind, then he would do so. If murder or rape or robbery was for his own benefit or the benefit of science and his place in history, then he had no problem with those acts either.
He knew that people couldn’t simply run around lawless, killing and stealing from whomever they wished. But if you were smart enough not to get caught, then what reason was there not to commit the crime? The answer, Derrick supposed, was fear. The only reason not to act on your own self-interests was for fear of a deity, fear of consequences, or fear of your own ignorance. The first because you may face an inescapable punishment upon your death. The second because you could possibly face criminal repercussions for your actions. And the third because you fear that you are ignorant in your belief that the first two don’t exist and shouldn’t be feared at all.
What did he have to fear from an imaginary deity or from the law of the land when he was a golden god himself?
Derrick found it astonishing the things a man could accomplish when he abandoned the laws of gods and men and became his own master.
He dropped the patient’s file he had been reading atop his desk, rubbed his eyes, and stretched out his arms. A whole stack of neglected paperwork sat beside the discarded folder. With everything going on in his life right now, he found it impossible to concentrate on work. But the privilege of owning an extremely successful company allowed Derrick a lot of freedom with his time. Still, there were some tasks—and some special patients—which required his personal attention and couldn’t be entrusted to one of his many underlings.
Grabbing the push bar of his wheelchair, Derrick spun himself over to the side wall of his office where a small table of all glass held a crystal carafe in the shape of a skull. Fine cognac filled the skull. Four snifters and a few photographs of himself rested beside the liquor.
One picture showed him in a black wetsuit at a beach in Brazil holding his Mayhem Driver surfboard, which he had preferred because of it’s ability to navigate dead sections and link waves together. He missed his time in the ocean.
Thanks to good genes, a strict diet, and an intense dedication to his own fitness, Derrick had always possessed a body which rippled with muscle and held no excess fat. Even while bound to a wheelchair, he refused to allow his muscles to wither and had continued a rigorous workout regimen.
Derrick supposed he would have been the perfect mate. He provided everything any partner could have possibly wanted. If it hadn’t been for his injury …
His impressive physique coupled with a square jaw, perfectly symmetrical features, flawless bronze skin, perfectly coifed head of sandy blond hair, and pale-blue eyes had always made it exceedingly easy for Derrick to attract the opposite sex. But even before the accident, he had little use for the fairer sex, beyond their necessity in procreation. His last long-term relationship had been his high-school girlfriend, and even then he had only put up with her because she was the head cheerleader and the most popular girl in school, and her adoration and the envy of his classmates served to augment his stature as star football player, valedictorian, and all-around alpha male. It was a place of honor that he had achieved through meticulous planning and hard work. Still, beyond the social aspects and satisfying his active teenage libido, she soon became a liability rather than an asset. In college, he found there were more than enough females ready to satisfy his physical needs without the emotional investment required by a mate.
Derrick picked up another of the photographs. This one showed a younger version of himself on one knee in full football pads. The younger Gladstone leaned over on his helmet and showed that million-dollar smile. Memories of his time on the gridiron filled him with a strange warmth. In another life, he could have played in the NFL, possibly both sides of the ball, offensively as a running back and defensively as a linebacker.
They had called him Derrick “The Gladiator” Gladstone.
The phone on his desk chirped, and his secretary said, “Dr. Gladstone, I have your brother on line two.”
Derrick growled in disgust as he wheeled himself back to his desk. “Thank you, Susan, but I’m quite busy. Did he say why he’s calling?”
“Dennis said that he’s planning a visit and wanted to work out the details with you.”
Gritting his teeth, he tried to remain calm. He counted to five and took a few deep breaths. “Thank you, Susan, I’ll take the call.”
His fraternal twin brother had always been Derrick’s opposite. Dennis had struggled with grades and his weight and had shied away from sports and popularity. Where Derrick had fought with every fiber of his being to be extraordinary in every pursuit, his brother was more than satisfied with mediocrity.
“Hello, Dennis, to what to do I owe the pleasure of a call from my little brother?”
“You’re older than me by like ten minutes.”
“And I always will be.”
His brother laughed and said, “Same old Derrick. Listen, we’re going to be coming up to San Francisco next week and would love to spend some time with you and Mom.”
Dennis always was a momma’s boy. “Now’s a really bad time for that.”
“We both know you can make time whenever you want. That’s the perks of being a big-shot doctor, and Mom isn’t getting any younger. In her condition, there’s no way she’d survive another stroke.”
“She’s fine. She’ll be alive and well for Thanksgiving and Christmas. You can see her then.”
“I’ve already made all the arrangements, and I’ve booked a hotel for Helen and me and the kids. The youngsters would love to spend a little time with their uncle. They adore you.”
Of course they do, Derrick thought. They probably wish I was their father instead of you.
“Yes, I love them too, but as I said, now’s not a good time. I have a lot going on with the business, and—”
“That’s fine. If we only get to see you in the evenings or for dinner, we’ll make do. But we’re still coming up to see Mom. And…I was thinking maybe she could come stay with us for a while.”
“That’s out of the question. She’s settled in here. Her doctors and caregivers are here.”
“Yeah, but Helen’s at home and could take care of her, and in your condition, we thought it might help to—”
“My condition?”
“You know what I mean. You’re a busy guy and—”
“I said no.”
Silence hung over the lines, and Derrick pictured his brother as a little boy bleeding from the nose and mouth. Derrick recalled himself pummeling Dennis’s face, driving his fist up and down as if it was powered by strong hydraulics. Their mother had stood over them, a glass of Everclear and apple juice sloshing in her glass as she forced them to fight for her own amusement. “Only the strong survive in this armpit of a world, boys. You have to fight for everything you have.”
Despite the fact that Derrick was always the victor in their mother’s encouraged brawls, it was always Dennis who would receive her attention afterward as she stroked his dark hair and called him her “poor baby.”
Over the phone line, Dennis finally said, “Well, we can discuss it more next week. Send Mom my love.”
Derrick hung up without a word of goodbye, his anger swelling at his brother’s insistence on a visit. This couldn’t have come at a worse time. His plans were almost ready. Soon, he would have the necessary funds to solidify his legacy, and before that could happen, many preparations needed to be made. He couldn’t accomplish anything with his sniveling little brother staring over his shoulder, still vying for the old witch’s affections.
Closing his eyes and picturing his fist slamming into his brother’s face, Derrick laughed and shook his head. He wouldn’t let his brother stand in his way.
One of Derrick’s many strengths was his ability to adapt and overcome any circumstance. After all, the ability to adapt to one’s environment was crucial to being selected by nature as the instrument of advancement for one’s species. And Derrick Gladstone intended to carve his name into the evolution of mankind.