God-Sculpted Man
The room was musty. Separated off into 2 levels, there was an upstairs booth and a downstairs area. The booth was filled with men in suits who were having conversations about being here in Brooklyn and the war at hand. The downstairs was filled with a team of doctors, one in particular running around, navigating his team, and had tables full with buttons and levers, mainframes practically for walls, and a scary table looking contraption at the center of it. The contraption was dissected into 3 parts of a tube and had 2 overhead pads on the inside of it. We watched as a scrawny boy and a tall woman, both in army uniforms, walk into the room and form the silence. The conversations and movement continued as the couple moved down the stairs, towards the older doctor in the middle, who I assumed was the head doctor.
I was sat in the booth, behind a thick frame of glass, watching the men meet, get a photo taken, then rush to get his upper half undressed. I hadn’t the slightest clue what we were here for. So far, all it seemed to be was doctors scrambling around like chickens with their heads cut off to get things ready and to push lots of buttons.
My pa, John Elwood, stood behind me having a heated conversation with another man who seemed frustrated. My pa had dark brown, messy hair, green eyes, and was slimly built. He had some muscle packed in there from working with (and against) his planes, but underneath his choice of clothing the muscle seemed to be swallowed whole and leave behind a nerdy looking jock. The frustrated man he was talking to was older, he had grey, thinning hair, and wrinkles that seemed to be weighed down by water. Both of them were wearing air force uniforms that were embellished with medals and patches, but my pa had decided to wear his brown flying jacket over his uniform and to dismiss his hat entirely, stating it was too formal for the occasion.
The two men were having a very fulfilling conversation about whether a man named Dr. Erskine was being too irrational or not. Pa argued he was a very smart man and if he put his mind to it, he could figure out how to make “that scrawny boy down there a super soldier, then he damn well will!”
The older man sputtered like my pa’s Republic P-47 Thunderbolt plane. He began speaking about how he never said he wasn’t smart, no, there just was no telling that this scrawny boy would survive these tests. I stared down at the said scrawny boy who was now climbing into a scary contraption at the center of the room. Two arms with pads were over his head and three separate parts of the machine were lowered for him to climb in and out. As he laid down into the machine, a man in a black suit remarked “Jesus, somebody get that kid a sandwich.”
Pa huffed in disdain as he moved to my left and sat down, seemingly tired of arguing with other people.
A shorter man who was sporting short, black hair, a matching goatee, and a brown tunic walked up to the contrapment, said a few words at the man inside, then moved along. The head doctor picked up a microphone and flicked it three times before speaking, causing a loud screech and thumping to voice over the speakers.
“Do you hear me? Is this on?” I winced at the loud screech and the volume of the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he continued, “today we take not another step towards annihilation, but the first step on the path of peace.”
Two doctors moved towards the man in the contraption and placed the overhead pads onto his chest. As he continued talking about injections, the tall woman from before joined the rest of us up in the booth, seemingly stressed. She sat down, took a deep breath, and pursed her lips. When we made eye contact, her eyes widened subtly, but it was quickly replaced with a small smile. I nervously smiled back and refocused at the event going on in the lower floor.
One of the nurses was cleaning his arm and gave him a shot in his right shoulder.
“That wasn’t so bad,” he commented, relaxing as soon as the needle was gone. The speakers were now set up for us to hear the conversations and updates going on.
“That was the penicillin.”
The boy looked over at the doctor, eyes widening in fear. The doctor only tilted his head and closed his eyes in response. When the doctor began counting down, everyone in the booth took a collective deep breath and rolled their shoulders back. I leaned forward, lifting myself off the seat, but before I could, my father grabbed my shoulder and pressed me down. His young face never looked towards me, but he seemed to be reading my mind. So I stayed where I was, but got as close to the edge of the seat as I could.
The countdown had ended and the vials began emptying through the many needles that penetrated his skin, he grimaced in pain for a few seconds, then stopped; his eyes widened and breath caught in his throat.
“Now Mr. Stark,” levers were being pulled and the large, scary contraption became scarier. It lifted up, positioning the man inside as if he were standing and the separate parts of the dome moved in sync to enclose him inside. The woman took a deep breath and straightened her back as one of the doctors placed a pressurised air tube into the machine.
“Steven? Can you hear me?” The doctor knocked on the glass, listening for an answer.
“It’s probably too late to go to the bathroom, right?” The now hidden man, Steven, responded.
I scrunched up my eyebrows in confusion, if he needed to use the bathroom, why didn’t he just get out of the tube thing and go use the bathroom? I bet if he asked he could use it without a problem. I looked towards pa but he was smiling a small smile, so I looked away, resuming my watch. Perhaps they were just strict about who was able to use the bathroom. I guess they may be worried that a scrawny boy like this one may fall in and get his butt stuck. I giggled at the thought, recieving a glance and a raised eyebrow from pa. I smiled back and he chuckled.
He turned around and continued watching, so I turned and also watched. A very bright light was beginning to emit from the person filled tube, it was like staring directly into the sun. I squinted my eyes, forcing myself to continue watching to try. I still wasn’t sure what was going on though, so I was sort of hoping things would become clear soon.
“70%!” a scream erupted from the tube and the woman abruptly stood up and headed out the door. My hands flew to my ears in an attempt to block out the sounds of murmuring, screaming, and the whir of the machine all in one. The woman reappeared at the stair platform, yelling at them to shut it down.
The head doctor moved away from the machine after yelling at Steven and yelled at Mr. Stark to kill the reactor, but Steven yelled not to from inside. After hesitating, Mr. Stark moved back from the kill switch to the wheel, and began cranking the power again. The screaming all together stopped as the light got brighter, as if the boy was trying to prove that he could handle it.
Sparks and smoke flew from the button tables and the mainframes on the walls. Doctors were huddled down, attempting to shield themselves from the flying electricity.
The room suddenly went dark, the overhead light still shining but the bright machine powered down making the whole room seem dark. I removed my hands from my ears, straining them for any sign that the man was alive and responsive. I hoped my father was right and Dr. Erskine was able to pull this off.
It seemed that no one in the room was breathing. No one was moving. No one wanted to blink until the machine opened and either proved them right or wrong.
Some people in the back began to stand up to get a better view as the doctor yelled at Mr. Stark to open the contraption. For a few haunting seconds, nothing happened. Then, the doors opened and the view of the once scrawny man was breathtaking.
Instead of a small, skinny boy coming into view, a much taller, muscular man was seen breathing hard and sweating lightly. The straps around him broke off during his apparent growth and his head was lolled back, resting where the top of his head once couldn’t even reach.
The doctor ran up to Steven, calling his name a few times as he reached up to grab a hold of his arm, keeping him from toppling over.
I was now standing at the glass, mouth wide in astonishment at this fantastic magic show. How had he gotten so much bigger? Taller? I wanted to be like him, I wanted to be the prize that causes astonishment at my change and how amazing I had become.
“Pa, how did they do that to him?” My father was standing right next to me, mouth also gaping like a fish out of water. He closed his mouth quickly and slowly tore his look away from the show.
“I don’t know, Amara. All I know, is that Dr. Erskine is a genius of a man,” he looked away again, smiling at the man that Mr. Stark and the doctor, Dr. Erskine assumingly, helped out of the contrapment.
The men in suits were all filing out of the booth to get a closer look, so my pa looked at me, and nodded towards the door, “let’s go meet him, shall we?”
I nodded enthusiastically, rushing after him to go meet Steven. I quickly thought about the fact that ‘Steven’ was not a name for that man I just saw, no. ‘Steven’ was that scrawny boy's name, ‘Steve’ was more fitting for the changed man.
I followed my pa down the stairs and we moved our way through the excited crowd towards Steve, Dr. Erskine, and Mr. Stark. When we reached them, my father smiled largely and offered a handshake to both men, while I stared up at the large man.
He and the lady were conversing about him becoming taller. Then Steve glanced over and his eyebrows shot up, causing the lady to look as well.
The lady smiled gently and said “Well, hi there, what’s your name?”
It took me about 10 seconds all together to look away from the god-sculpted man and to look over at the brunette with red painted lips. Her dark hair was curled and some of it was flipped over her part. Her brown eyes weren’t totally focused on me, still giving some divided attention to Steve. She glanced back over to the no-longer-scrawny boy of a man. His surprised face now replaced with a tired smile and kind eyes; his hair was blonde and swept over and gelled to give it a smoother look.
I looked back over to the girl and became aware that my mouth was still open. I snapped it shut and tried to come up with an answer.
They had asked your name, give them your name!
“MynameisArabella,” I quickly said in one breath. They both smiled and heat crawled up my neck. Well that was embarrassing now wasn’t it?
I mentally stuffed a sock into my inner voices mouth and glared at her, there was no reason to get this worked up about meeting these two people.
“Nice to meet you Arabella,” Steve replied, he was still breathing hard but his chest wasn’t moving as fast as it was, “who are you here with today?”
I looked around for a second until I spotted my dad, who was talking animatedly to Mr. Stark and Dr. Erskine. I lifted a hand and pointed to him, “My pa, his name’s John and he flys a Republic P-47 Thunderbolt for the U.S. Air Force. He’s teaching me how to fly it, even though I’m only 13 and I’m technically not supposed to-” I stopped and my eyes widened. I looked back at the woman and man in front of me and they were looking over at my pa, but looked back over to me once I stopped talking.
I had realized then that I talked when I was nervous. I practically told two strangers that I didn’t even know until two minutes ago about my dad’s job and almost told them my entire life story because I was nervous.
“Your dad’s an aviator?” Steve raised an eyebrow.
“Yes sir, and a good one.”
“And you said he’s teaching you how to fly?”
“Yes ma’am, I haven’t done any solo trips yet but I plan to by the end of this year. And join the air force myself for the war.”
“At 13?”
“Yes sir.”
Steve huffed an airy laugh, “That’s pretty impressive. I’m not sure they’ll let you join the cause until you’re 16 though, and hopefully it’ll be done by then.”
“Well, when you are of age to join and you still want to, give me a call. I’ll make sure you join the best of the best,” was the woman’s response.
I smiled brightly and was about to respond when there was a loud boom! Steve suddenly grabbed me, shielding me from the falling glass.
“Stop him!” Dr. Erskine was standing, watching a man take one of the left over blue vials. I turned my head to see what was going on, then there were 2 loud cracks in the air. Dr. Erskine fell, bleeding out of two wounds in his chest, eyes wide with pain and horror.
Steve shot up to stand and moved through the crowd as gently as he could muster, while the attacker running up the stairs shot another guard to flee. The woman I was just talking to stood up, and took aim, shooting the man in an attempt to stop him. I felt hands wrap around my body and I heard my pa yelling at me, trying to see if I was okay. I couldn’t answer, I just stared at Dr. Erskine on the ground and the pooling blood around him that was beginning to wet my shoes and socks.
Steve was over him, surveying the damage, when Dr. Erskine tapped his chest. In a moment of understanding, I watched as Steve stood up and chased after the man up the stairs.