Dr. Frank A. Helmin1 and Dr. Diana Rohlman2
1Department of Psychology, Groom Lake Laboratories; 2Groom Lake Publishing Services, Groom Lake, Nevada, United States of America
Corresponding author: Frank A. Helmin, email@example.com
Illustration by: Luke Spooner
Frank A. Helmin received his Bachelors of Science degree in 2004 at Ohio State University. He received his doctorate in Psychology from Oregon University in 2010. He began as an associate professor at Groom Lake Laboratories following graduation, and now heads the Department of Speculative Psychology. The following case study is published as presented by the underwriting author, Diana Rohlman (Groom Lake Publishing Services).
Dr. David Latissemont was a fascinating study. His observations, percolated as they were with grief and guilt, were quite compelling. He preferred to narrate, documenting his emotions, his actions, his current state of mind. I didn’t mind the verbal vicissitudes–I was here to watch, no more.
I shifted in my chair as I watched him gather his instruments. Even in the dim lighting, the surgical steel caught the light, gleamed beside the clean towels.
When he was ready, he turned to me, one hand on the tray of instruments. His hand was calm, steady, but his voice wavered.
“This will be the seventieth time I attempt to revise Amanda Mencklen. All prior attempts have ended before they began, in failure. The data from those attempts has been carefully analyzed and tabulated; that data now informs my current attempt.”
David lived in an eerie sort of purgatory. Five years ago, he killed a woman. He had been atoning for it ever since.
He continued to dictate, and I, faithful assistant, continued to record, my pen scratching across paper.
“When Amanda first died, I thought it would be simple to bring her back to life. After all, my life’s work has centered on reversing aging, on finding the spark that is life. I already knew how to halt the inevitable decay of mortal flesh. You can see, even five years later, her body remains untouched by the irreversible flow of time.”
The body of Amanda Mencklen lay motionless on a metal table before him.
David was silent for a moment, fiddling with a machine. With soft susurrations Amanda’s chest began to rise and fall in a mockery of life. David turned to me with a sad smile, his gloved hands imploring me to make note of the artificial respiration.
I bent my head over my notebook, pen moving busily. I had heard so much of this before, but still I transcribed everything faithfully.
To read the rest of this story, check out the Mad Scientist Journal: Spring 2015 collection.
Diana lives in the Pacific Northwest, invariably spending the rainy days inside, writing, with a glass of wine nearby, and her dog offering helpful critiques. Her website can be found at: https://sites.google.com/site/rohlmandiana
Luke Spooner a.k.a. ‘Carrion House’ currently lives and works in the South of England. Having recently graduated from the University of Portsmouth with a first class degree he is now a full time illustrator for just about any project that piques his interest. Despite regular forays into children’s books and fairy tales his true love lies in anything macabre, melancholy or dark in nature and essence. He believes that the job of putting someone else’s words into a visual form, to accompany and support their text, is a massive responsibility as well as being something he truly treasures. You can visit his web site at www.carrionhouse.com.Follow us online: