Dr. Athanasios, the Eternal Life and the Father's day

                                                                                                     Gilson  Marcon de Souza

      A man extremely focused, Dr. Zeus Athanasios has always been a serious doctor and a requested scientist, whose job has been shared between his genetic research lab and the Celtic Cross Hospital.

Because of his austere and serious countenance, he was dubbed as “the man who never smiles”. He really never smiled, not because he was a sad man; he just thought he should be serious in the workplace.

He was a methodical and disciplined man; everything should be in its place. Every object, every note, every book... everything should be in perfect order.

He did not feel comfortable when people laughed about the results of his genetic experiments and was extremely disconcerted when journalists inferred he liked to play God.

His very black hair and big eyes, slightly stretched on the cheekbones, on each side  of the nose, was the antithesis of what can be described as almond-shaped eyes. People used to say they were similar to the eyes of those Greek statues, which made ​​sense because, although born in Brazil, his father was from Athens, and his mother, from Thessalonica.

In the hallways, on the sly, the girls from the lab talked about his latest interview and said his nickname should be changed to ‘Greek god’, not only because "Greek god' was the title rather ironic used by the press in an article   in the newspaper but because of his beauty as well. Despite being sixty five years old, he appeared to be younger.

Dr. Zeus Athanasios was not feeling particularly inspired to finish writing his latest article about the results of his research on transgenic snakes. No matter how hard he tried, his fingers seemed not to move. He read more than he wrote. He erased every paragraph and could not find a line of thought. Finally, he gave up and thought that that morning was not favorable to finish his article and thought it would be more appropriate to relax  and extend his conversation with Rev. Rodolfo Lemos, the chaplain of the Celtic Cross Hospital.

Although a confirmed atheist, Dr. Athanasios used to have a good time with Rev. Rodolfo Lemos' funny stories, though he never smiled.

Rev. Rodolfo could be regarded as a fieldworker from Paraná State. He was a thin, short man, now nearing seventy years old. His skin, full of freckles and spots, was the result of an involuntary, aggressive tanning  — an evidence of a person who had worked for years on end battered by the sun. He seemed to be the opposite of Dr. Athanasios: always smiling and talkative; he never remembered where he had left his glasses or his booklets of devotional literature, which he used to dole out widely not only among the patients, but to anyone he deemed to be in need of a word of comfort or  spiritual advice.

Despite different backgrounds, both were extremely polite and scholars. Rev. Lemos was a lover of Greek — a language he has always appreciated and which he had studied while attending the theological seminary.  Dr. Athanasios, of course, spoke fluent Greek.

A ritual both agreed to strictly follow was defining the terms before any conversation they had. The only difference was that Dr. Athanasios did it slowly while sipping a generous cup of green tea, while Rev. Lemos was not merciful on his own tongue and burned it really hard while eagerly drinking his almost scalding tiny cup of coffee — a drink he had learned to appreciate because of his long years working in the coffee plantations before entering the seminary.

The conversation, this time, was around the word ‘psyche’. Dr. Athanasios went on and apologized for not being very attentive.

“Pardon, Reverend,” the Doctor apologized while trying to pay attention to the routine care,  “I need to keep my eyes wide open. You know, after they vandalized our laboratory and released our research animals, we've had an incalculable loss.”

“I wonder, doctor,” said the clergyman as he sipped some more of his steaming drink, “it must have been an incalculable loss, much money lost...”

“The major prejudice wasn't really financial, Reverend, but years of wasted work, years,” he was indignant, “there was important research on leukemia, cancer, diabetes... We were one step ahead on the research on various types of protozoa, especially tropical ones, and the next step would be to test the altered protozoa on monkeys.”

“But why on earth do you think they did that, Doctor?”

“I do not know, Reverend,” Dr. Athanasios answered staring off and trying to arrange the stethoscope under the collar of an impeccably white coat, “I also don't understand; some of them called me Dr. Frankenstein because of some genetic experiments in an interview I gave to the press. It may be possible, Reverend,” he continued, covering his lips with his index finger, “perhaps the image the press passes is of a mad scientist who toys with nature. I think I was wrong to put more emphasis on the most unusual research, so to speak... Yes,”  he continued, “maybe I should not have shown them the piggies and All-Up. I think I should have spoken only about the snakes and changed protozoa.”

       “Piggies, snakes, All-Up!  What are you talking about, Doctor?” the Reverend asked, very curious.

       “Ah, yes, the piggies that flashes their eyes.  We manipulated them genetically and inserted the same genetic sequence that makes fireflies light up into their genes. That was not so hard. It was a little harder with the snakes, though...”

“But why do you need a pig that flashes its eyes?,” the Reverend asked, smiling a little.

Dr. Athanasios continued the explanation even more serious. If there were a time he really did not smile, it was when he talked about his experiments.

“Not a crazy stuff at all,” he answered immediately, “we changed them because we wanted to differentiate them from the pigs of the control study, so that we need not to mark them in some other way. Now, regarding the snakes,” he continued, “we changed their genes until we were able to make them produce morphine instead of poison.”

“And what is the benefit for that?” the Reverend asked, however more self measured this time.

“Actually, in practical terms, almost close to none at all, because other colleagues have fabulously succeeded as far as the results in the treatment of various diseases from the venom of such snakes are concerned. Morphine is also a very old medication, which was used until 2015, if I'm not mistaken. Anyway, it has been replaced by more effective drugs for a long time. But we did that for the sake of experiments. We wanted to manipulate certain proteins genetically.

Dr. Athanasios was about to wrap up his explanation, when he realized he forgot to mention All-Up.

“Oh, yes, Reverend, how could I have forgotten such a treasure like this?  Come here, All-Up, I make a point to show this one, Reverend, All-Up is our mascot, our pet cat, also genetically changed. Can you identify in which aspect has he been changed?”

Rev. Lemos adjusted his glasses, leaned over a bit, poked a finger behind his clerical collar, pulled his head back a little, looked again, pursed his lips and said:

“No, in fact I cannot see anything different; looks like an ordinary cat.

“Well, he's really common in all regards, except for one detail. See yourself, you can pet him.”

 Reverend Lemos stretched his hands and stroked the cat, who reciprocated the affection stretching a bit and rubbing his head against the fist of the religious man...

“So, what do you think?” the doctor asked.

“I have not seen anything different,” said the chaplain.

“The hair, Reverend, actually it is not cats' hair, it’s human hair, although we trimmed it.”

The reverend was taken aback by a visible astonishment.

“Let me see again, Doctor. That is really unbelievable! And is there any specific purpose for that?”

“Well, in this case a large multinational laboratory sponsored our research and we signed a contract so they can develop a treatment for baldness in return to their sponsorship.”

After remaining silent for a few seconds, Dr. Athanasios blurted:

“Rev. When I gave an interview and talked about our work, I should have emphasized more on the research on protozoa. I am sure if a mother had toxoplasmosis during pregnancy, she would think twice before preying on our laboratory.”

“So you're doing researches on this kind of disease?”  he was interested, “it is a very cruel disease.”

At this point in the conversation, Rev. Lemos became more thoughtful. 
“And how is the progress of the research?”

“Well, Reverend, we are a little stagnant. In addition to have harmed our research when great part of our lab was destroyed, we found that absolutely nobody wanted to sponsor these studies. The pharmaceutical industry does not think this kind of research is profitable.”

“Dr. Athanasios, not to be the devil's advocate, because, as a matter of fact, I'm on the other side,” he joked, “but it seems that people were outraged by the sacrifice of animals.”

“Now Reverend, if I were a believer, this would be a good time to say 'Lord, have mercy on me!,'” he replied, returning the joke, however not smiling.

“Animals are sacrificed on daily basis not only for food, but for a plenty of many other purposes, and those same people who destroyed our labs, then go and eat burgers and hot dogs with their children. Well, I don´t want to talk about that... Although a few animals have been sacrificed. The last one we had to sacrifice was a dog.”

“And why the cat is called All-Up?” the reverend returned.

“Well, because he always eats everything we give. So, the girls said, 'eat it all up', and the nickname stuck.”

“And how are you feeling this week, Doctor?”

“Much more enthusiastic; I am very grateful for the offer of the Celtic Cross Hospital to let us use a vacant outbuilding so that we don't lose our research. Thanks to the hospital, many studies have been preserved, so I'm very excited.”

“You see, doctor, even an atheist can be full of God.”

“What do you mean, Reverend?,” he asked straightening up in his chair.

“That's what the word enthusiastic means; it comes from ‘en theos’, taken by God, possessed by God.”

“I never gave it a thought, Reverend; it is really amazing how our language is full of Greek terms until the present time.”

“By the way, your surname is also suggestive.  Do you know what it means?

“Yes”, he said,” it means immortal, ‘a thanatos’, ‘thanatos’ means death, then ‘athanasia’, where Athanasios derives from, means immortality.”

“And do you believe in immortality?”

“Sure, Reverend, we are close to what we call singularity and soon we will no longer die, that is for sure.”

“So now we have to resume our definition of soul or psyche, you are acknowledging that the psyche remains after life?”

“No, Reverend, for me psyche is the same as consciousness — the information produced by our experiences, our brain, which can be manipulated and stored as with any set of information in a computer.”

“And how do you think we can be immortal if you do not believe in the soul as a spiritual entity?”

“There are several possibilities; one of them is the genetic improvement. We were able to extend a mouse's life for the length of forty generations. Another possibility, which also is very close now, would be downloading our memories, in short, our consciousness or psyche to a computer and preserve them forever,” Doctor Athanasios explained with much conviction and not showing any sign of doubt. He talked about that very earnestly.

“Well, Doctor,” returned the religious man, I believe as Plato and the ancient philosophers believed, that is, our reality is a projection of the true reality and our soul or spirit is immortal and continues forever. That's how I define psyche or consciousness. But I also read studies of some colleagues of yours claiming that consciousness does not reside in the brain. The brain,” he continued, “is a receiver of consciousness, which is a separate and distinct reality. I read, in this study, that the brain's microtubules — sorry if I speak in layman's terms — is compared to quantum computers.”

“These studies are not accepted by the scientific community,” he stressed, “we scientists, work with measurable and concrete facts. And such studies are more philosophical than scientific.”

The discussion on the definition of psyche was getting heated when they heard a commotion and shouting coming from the hallways.

A low and fat nurse burst into the room without asking permission, pale, breathless...

“Dr. Athanasios, Dr. Athanasios, an accident, come on, how terrible, how terrible...”

Dr. Athanasios terminated the conversation, apologized, left the room immediately and went to the hallway.

The shouts, the bustle and the people rushing around continued. Cries of despair, anguish, pain...

“Growl, you grumpy, growl,” shouted a tall young lady, also wearing a white coat, all tinged with blood, her hair disheveled; she inclined forward while holding her hand full of blood.

“That dog, Dr. Athanasios, that grumpy and miserable dog ​​bit my finger,” she explained crying even louder, “I'll lose my fingertips,” she said in despair.

“Calm down, Dr. Kelly, calm down. Apparently it was not a very strong bite; we'll take care of that, keep calm...”

“You say so because it was not your finger. That animal doesn't deserve so much attention; what he’s done is ... ouch...oh my finger...”

“Dr. Kelly, refrain, even if you lose your entire finger, you know that our treatment with organ regeneration is already successful and we can get it back up even with the original fingerprints.

“I'm in too much pain, it hurts a lot... I don’t want to look after that ungrateful and grumpy old dog any longer.”

“Let's talk about that later, Dr. Kelly, now let’s take care of your finger,” hastened Dr. Athanasios, leading her to the emergency room of the hospital where he gave her a sedative and sent her to get the proper treatment.

Dr. Athanasios returned and terminated his heated conversation with the reverend.

“Rev. Lemos, I apologize, but we've just had an incident and I need to check what has happened on the spot,” he said, picking up his notes, some medical devices and a box of drugs.

On the way to the rooms, going through a clean and well lit long hallway, he came across  a nurse, who was a little too nervous and somewhat reticent.

Dr. Athanasios wanted to learn about the incident and without further ado began to inquire about what had happened to the head nurse on duty.

“Dr. Athanasios, I need to report some things... Mr. Ataliba has been very weird lately.”

“What do you mean, Eliza, how weird has he been?”

“Well doctor, after he received the right jaw implant, he began to behave very differently. Before, he was very cheerful and fun, a very dynamic person. Now he became depressed, sad, apathetic and complains just about everything. The other nurses are calling him old grumpy man.”

Dr. Athanasios was a bit thoughtful and wanted more information.

“How has his behavior been, specifically, how has he behaved?”

“The other day, Doctor, he stole the coat of a doctor, pretended he was a doctor himself and went down to the ground floor, so we found him sitting in the garden and eating peanut brittles he had bought at the candy cart in front of the Hospital. We explained that he could not do that under any circumstances because of the treatment. But he shrugged and left saying harsh words. On another day, he nipped an attendant and said he knew full well how to take care of himself. Anyway, doctor, he has been very sad, depressed and melancholic. Before, he was such an affectionate, affable and friendly person, now he's naughty, surly and cantankerous.”

“I'll talk to him, Eliza, I will find out what is happening.”

Dr. Athanasios left thoughtful, wanting to understand what had happened.

Mr. Ataliba had already undergone various treatments due to a rare disease that left his bones weak and brittle.

The first treatment was a success, although that year Dr. Athanasios' techniques had not yet been fully developed. He had succeeded with the bones of a horse genetically changed, an ox, and finally a dog, which Dr. Athanasios had to sacrifice after extracting a section of its jaw with human genes developed in the dog itself. The treatment was such a success to the extent that there were even human teeth sticking out of the bones.

“Doctor,” the nurse resumed, and now he bit Dr. Kelly's finger, you know, the dentist you hired to check his teeth... He almost plucked the poor doctor's finger out.”

“I'll talk to him.”

Dr. Athanasios entered the room where his patient was, drew near him and softly tried to start a dialogue with Mr. Ataliba, an old man, eighty-three years old, with a pale face and a feeble appearance. His sad and static eyes revealed an air of deep sorrow and melancholy.

Not wanting to be invasive, Dr. Athanasios started making some routine questions and measuring his patient's blood pressure carefully.

“Your blood pressure is perfect, Mr. Ataliba, are you're feeling something?”

“Hunger,” he replied, “I'm tired of this soup.”

“But, Mr. Ataliba,” the doctor tried to explain with extreme caution and patience, “you cannot eat much solid stuff, though you are already almost ready to go home,” said Dr. Athanasios, pretending he was paying attention to the old man's jaw, but watching the reaction of his eyes. Actually, he was trying to uncover clues of some depression or behavioral change, which, in this case, he would refer to a psychiatrist. “Maybe a bipolar disorder,” he thought to himself.

“Mr. Ataliba,” he continued, “I have good news, I'm thinking about a discharge for you on Sunday, so that you can spend the father's day at home with your relatives. What do you think?”

“Nothing,” he replied harshly, demonstrating yet more sorrow.

“It seems the news was not very much exciting for you, Mr. Ataliba, are you not happy about going home?”

Mr. Ataliba dropped a tear and said: “why should I?”

“Because you'll be with your family now. Don't you think this is a good idea?”

“I don't think so, Doctor, it is going to be a sad time.”

“Why is that?”

“Dr. Athanasios, I'm at the end of my journey. My son won a promotion. He always strived for that and now will move abroad. So we talked about it and he decided to put me in an asylum.”

“What happened to Dr. Kelly's finger, Mr. Ataliba?”

“I didn't bite her finger, Doctor, I mean, yes, I bit it, but I didn't mean it. She asked me to bite a thing like a chewing gum.  I started biting that thing and she said, 'bite harder, Mr. Ataliba, harder’. So I bit, but she didn't took her finger out, what could I do?”

Dr. Athanasios thought for a moment before continuing.

“But Mr. Ataliba, you cannot think this way; very soon we will live indefinitely. We already can cure most diseases. Don't you think it is encouraging to know we can live forever?”

Dr. Athanasios noticed a stressed change in Mr. Ataliba's behavior. He remembered that, after the treatment with the horse's bone, he became a playful person and a true braggart. After the treatment with the ox's bone, he became more authoritarian. And now he is acting like an old grouchy and grumpy man. “Something must be happening.” He thought about the possibility of some unknown cellular information.

“Live forever, why, Doctor? I worked all my life to support my family. We had our moments of joy and our moments of hardness but always together. I raised my son, working hard. And now I feel all alone.”

“I understand now, and then you are upset because of the decision of your son?”

“No, Doctor,” he said in a undertone.

“I feel no resentment. That's how he has  been raised. He is on his way and I am on mine. This is life, Doctor.”

“Why are you so sad, Mr. Ataliba? You can tell me.”

Dr. Athanasios always treated his patients regarding their physical aspects, but this time he was moved by Mr. Ataliba's words and decided to be more accessible and open.

“Why are you so sad, Mr. Ataliba?”

“What is the use of living forever, Doctor, if my 'Pretty Little One' is no longer with me? What is the use of living forever and alone? Why should we live forever if there is still so much pain, so much selfishness, so much envy, so much greed, so much evil and abandonment? Wouldn't it be horrible to live forever with inequality, loneliness, wars?”

“But, Mr. Ataliba, human beings are also morally improving,” he said coughing a little, without much conviction.

Mr. Ataliba kept silence for a while and went on:

“I recognize your commitment and dedication so that the people can live better, Dr. Athanasios, you are a good man, and you also want the people to live without suffering, but  you cannot fix certain things  with your genetic treatments.”

Dr. Athanasios was a bit thoughtful about what to do.

“Tell me more about what you're feeling, Mr. Ataliba, how can you describe your feelings?”

“I feel as if my life were surrounded by a circle, that every day will be slowly closing around; whenever it closes, I lose something.

I can no longer walk where I want to go to, read books, and listen to music.”

     “But we can take care of your vision and hearing, Mr. Ataliba...”

      Mr. Ataliba did not care and continued:

      “Today I feel limited, increasingly limited; even what I drink and eat is controlled. They just give me this goo you call soup. I wanted to eat a sweet, and the whole hospital ran after me and confiscated it. I just want to walk in the garden, to breathe some fresh air...”

      Dr. Athanasios thought some more and wondered if Rev. Lemos would be a good person to cheer him up. After all, he was a veteran chaplain and knew full well how to deal with these issues.

      “Mr. Ataliba, would you like to chat with our chaplain, Rev. Rodolfo Lemos?”

      “That old dude? No thanks, he is very affectionate; he has dropped in here for three times and always forgets what he had talked with me. He always gives me the same thing to read, like Psalm 22/23 and says that Jesus is the resurrection and the life, and  whoever believes him should have eternal life. I already know all these passages. So, I do not want to talk to him.

      “But, don't you believe in God?”

      “I do not know whether God exists or not. I don't know if these religious matters can help me. I prefer not to be influenced.”

      Dr. Athanasios felt that there was a certain improvement in Mr. Ataliba's behavior and decided to come back another time. But before leaving he said:

      “I'll talk to your son before your discharge and will be here to say goodbye, even on Sunday. I want to keep on being your friend and visit you from time to time.”

       This time, Dr. Athanasios was surprised with his own behavior, but also wanted to follow up the outcome of his research.

        Dr. Athanasios said goodbye and  left Mr. Ataliba lying, looking up thoughtfully...

       As promised, on Sunday morning he was already in the Celtic Cross Hospital to say goodbye to his patient and new friend.

       It was not long before a young, well dressed executive, his hair combed, wearing sunglasses and a stubble appeared.

       Dr. Athanasios stood nearby and could hear the conversation.

       The young executive came in, and after greeting everyone, walked to where Mr. Ataliba was and hugged him effusively: a long, tight hug; his eyes were filled with tears, and he asked:

        “Dad, are you ready?”

        “Yes, son, we can go. Is it today you will take me to the asylum?”

       “No, Dad, not today.”

       “So, will we spend the Father's Day together?”

       “No, Dad, we will not.”
        Mr., Ataliba lowered his head and said:

       “Well, I was ready for this hour, son, but before I go, I want to apologize for not being a present father and give you more attention, my son.  I always wanted to linger on your side, but life was hard on me and I needed to work. Forgive me, my son. Well, now we can go to the asylum,” he finished, wiping some tears.

        “We won't go to the asylum, Dad, let's go home.”

         Mr. Ataliba did not understand and opened his eyes.

        “Yes, Dad, I thought it over and decided not to accept the promotion. I want you to forgive me and  know that I love you. I want you to stay with us to have time to talk. From now on every day will be the Father's Day...”

      When they were leaving, Mr. Ataliba saw Dr. Athanasios drawing near and called him.

     “Hey, doc, I just want to say goodbye and thank you for everything. I will think about everything you told me, and I think now I will not need this stuff any more,”  he said, handing him a packet of peanut candy:

     “You can keep those peanut brittle. Thanks for everything Dr. Athanasios.” ­

     After having picked up his belongings, he was going to let  the leaflets about the eternal life offered by Rev. Lemos behind, but changed his mind and decided to take them just in case.

     Dr. Athanasios watched their departure, and took advantage he was behind a shutter to   smile broadly.

Gilson Marcon de Souza

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