The Life Scanner (So Much More) by David MacMillan

The Life Scanner (So Much More) by David MacMillan

Mike examined the old machine sitting on the floor beside him. It was from the 1940’s; at least parts of it were. It looked so primitive, yet mysterious. It had a screen like a computer monitor, about ten inches across, but the glass was much thicker. The screen was attached by a thin wire to a metal box about two feet square. Inside the box, the wire was split into two, both of which were attached to old fuses. Mike saw the date stamp ‘1941’ on their sides. More wires inside were inexplicably melted onto the sides of what looked like small stones. But after examining them, Mike knew they were minerals; metals, and they were all different. The shine and color, as well as the weight and surface texture were all different. No two were the same. He was not an expert on the subject, but anyone could  recognize the small pieces of gold and silver. He wondered how much they would be worth.

The internal layout of the device made no logical sense to Mike even though he studied it thoroughly. Some of the wires were attached to more than one of the  metals. But there was one even more fascinating object inside the metal box, a black stone. All the wires from the pieces of metal and fuses led to the stone and merged right into it somehow. It was the biggest object in the box, and it was not even fastened down by anything. It just sat there, able to move as far as the various wires would allow. Mike lifted it and held it up to his eye. It was opaque. Oddly when he held a flashlight up to it, it projected weird shadows onto the wall. 

The box had only one switch. There was also a tube stretching out about four feet that had a needle on the end of it. There was a small tag attached to it with the Red Cross sign on it, and under it was the word ‘Insert’. When Mike saw that it confused him even more. Was this a medical device?

 It must have been in his family for a long time. His grandfather had told him about  it when he was a child; that he had a metal box with fantastic power. Grandfather said he would explain it to him when he was older, but his grandfather became ill and died before that could happen. But just before Grandfather was taken to the hospital,  he had left Mike a letter, one that he was not supposed to read until he was twenty. That time had come and passed years ago, and Mike had not bothered to read it.  Mike assumed the box was useless, and that Grandfather must have been delusional for years before his final mental and physical decline.

After his death Mike moved into the old man’s small house. Most of Grandfather’s belongings had been left where they were. Mike’s parents tried to unload the place that year, but it didn’t sell. And so, his parents said he could live there. They wanted him out of their house anyway. Mike knew he had been a burden on them. He had no job, so he depended on them for support. And Mike’s drug and alcohol use and his brushes with the law had worn them down. Mike was twenty-nine years old. He knew he should be doing better, that he should start acting like an adult and being responsible. He had tried, but there was always just one more party to go to, or one more time to get high.

Mike knew his life would only become worse as he partied with so-called friends and anyone else who would bring alcohol or more with them, but he did it anyway. It was after one of these parties where he meandered into his grandfather’s old bedroom. For some reason he remembered the talk about the metal box and, on an impulse, searched for it. Mike discovered the machine in the back of the clothes closet and dragged it out across the floor. Now he was sitting next to it. The more he had examined it the more intrigued he became.

An hour had passed since he found the machine and sat down on the floor beside it. He didn’t drink much tonight since he had nothing left and was already beginning to feel sober. He smiled at the red cross sign on the tube that said insert. He reached over and flipped the only switch the strange box had, and then grabbed the needle. He slowly pushed it into his arm. It was far from the first time Mike had felt the prick of pain on his arm. He waited for no more than a couple of seconds.

Mike’s mind exploded with images; at the same time the screen came on. For an instant he was confused, then he  remembered what he was doing. He even saw it on the screen. It was him riding a horse. He was there, traveling through a field looking at the workers. They were small people, dressed in brown and beige tunics. Men and women hunched over working with hoes or scythes. All around him in the distance were green fields and forests. Mike felt proud. He was important. More so than those he looked upon now. For a moment he wondered why he should feel that way, then he heard himself speak. They all listened and nodded as the knight spoke.

“The King expects payment by the next full moon.” The people had stopped working and looked at him. “Yes, my lord” a man shouted as he stood upright a few steps away. Mike nodded an acknowledgement, he was a Knight of the King, and he should be spoken to accordingly. Mike kicked his horse slightly and went to turn back the way he had come. It was peaceful here, he thought. Is this really where he lived? Yes of course, it was all he could remember. Mike blinked, his eyes focused on the screen, and he saw himself riding his horse. What was going on? Mike’s vision blurred, then cleared again. He was feeling strong and sitting upright in his saddle. The horse’s head was bobbing up and down in front of him, he heard it whinnying. Soon he met up with other Knights and they rode on a pathway through the forest.

Mike felt pain in his side. He reached down and bringing his hand up, saw blood on his glove. There were bandits all around. Mike knew they must be from the west, aligned to a group supporting the King’s brother. They must all pay with their lives for this treason. Mike was furious. But he was feeling weak. He had been slashed in the side by a sword as he and other knights had ridden into the trap. He felt another pain, this one even worse. His horse rose up and Mike tumbled to the ground. He looked to his chest to see the end of the crossbow’s arrow protruding out. Mike felt frustration that he could not rise, that he could not deal with these traitors. There was so much more he needed to do for the King. So much more. Then he saw darkness. Mike was sitting in the room staring at the dark screen.

His arm hurt. Mike pulled the needle out in a panic and scurried across the floor to get away from the now frightening metal box. He brought his hand to his chest and looked down at his side. To his relief, he could see no wound, no blood. Mike sat there, back against the wall looking at the machine on the floor. What just happened? He realized he was sweating and wiped his face with the arm of his shirt. What the hell was that? He had taken drugs many times before, and this was sort of the same. But it was different. He remembered everything as if it had really happened to him. In fact, he remembered more than what he just saw and experienced. Mike could remember a whole life of living as a knight in the Middle Ages. He even remembered feeling regret over the things he had wanted to do but now never would. Mike was worried, had this thing caused him brain damage?

It was several days before Mike used the machine again. It had taken him that long to sort out his thoughts and what seemed to be memories. They couldn’t be, he knew, but they seemed so real. Mike was wary and a bit frightened of it , but the thought of trying the device again would not go away. It was exciting to think what the next trip would be like. Mike thought of them as trips, just like the feeling he got when he was high, but better. The machine must give the same effect as a hallucinogen, but no adverse effects, since nothing was being pumped into his blood stream. This was the best of both worlds he thought, and it was his. Strange that his grandfather would possess such a thing. Who knew, he must have taken countless trips with the thing. Mike smiled. Cool old man.

Now Mike was eager to try it again. The effect was more intense than any drug he had taken, and the effects lasted a whole week. That’s how long the new memories kept flashing into his mind. Mike went into the bedroom and sat down at the desk he had moved the machine onto. He reached over and flipped the switch. Nothing happened. Then he grabbed the needle at the end of the rubber tube, and carefully found a clear place on his arm to push it into. He closed his eyes and waited. When he opened them again, he saw a man standing in front of him, about twenty feet away. The man had long dark hair and facial hair. He was dressed in what looked like animal furs, stitched together. One fur was held on the top of his head by a strap perhaps made of animal hide. It looked ridiculous. But the man’s appearance was shocking, and frightening. Mike leaned back and realized he was still sitting in a chair. He looked at the screen and saw the man staring back from where he stood.  They were in a forest, and snow was gently falling on them. Then the man spoke. Or more accurately made sounds and gestures with his hands. Mike found himself walking slowly towards him, and he understood what he was saying! Mike nodded and started to speak.

“We will attack together. You circle behind. When it runs out, I will use my spear, then you come too, and we will finish it.” The man smiled with eyes wide. He shook his head around as he released a loud cry that echoed among the trees. The man then turned and ran into the woods. Mike carefully walked to the place he would wait for the fleeing animal. He realized how hungry he was, and cold. He saw his fur top had an opening where he had tied the straps to close it over himself. He would have to repair it later.  He crept up to the ambush position and crouched down to wait. He was patient. Odd; he had never been one with much patience before, but he felt happy as the minutes passed, content to gaze ahead and wait.

Then he heard something in front of him, but it was to the side and behind thick branches, not where he expected the hoofed animal to run from. What was it? The wind making snow covered branches crack? He listened intently. Then he heard another sound, this one from behind. And now he knew; his hunt was over. It was a low growl that steadily grew in intensity. Mike knew it would be closing the distance before he even managed to rise and turn his body to face it. He saw the giant cat just as it leaped at him, its white teeth ready. Then another sound from the other direction again, this time a loud growl. In an instant he was knocked down so hard the ground came up and crushed him. The pain hit; he knew he had broken bones. Then the two cats’ claws touched him, and there was more pain. Mike’s last thought was how his tribe needed him, there was so much to do. Then he saw blackness.

Mike pushed back into his chair and wildly looked around the room and then back at the screen. It was dark. He was breathing heavily and sweating as he looked down to check his body.  That had been the most terrifying experience of his life. Mike sat there in silence for a moment, and then he smiled. It was exhilarating! He stood up and shook his head, then fist pumped the air.  “What the fuck is this!” He shouted aloud to no one.

The memories would come quickly, he knew that. Mike lay down on the bed and rolled onto his back with his arm resting on his forehead. Yes, he remembered what a hard life it had been growing up with the other members of the group. They were always searching for food, and safety. A tear ran down his face as he remembered his mother dying from the cold when he was still a child. Then when a teenager, his father passed, the one who had taught him the most. Mike rolled over again onto his side. He did not move or rise for several hours.

During the following week Mike spent what little money he had mostly on alcohol. He was obsessed with the machine now but was hesitant about using it again. Yes, the hunt had been an intense experience, but the memories of that life, with its hardship and struggle had been difficult to deal with. This didn’t seem possible, and he knew no one would believe him if he told them. He spent days drinking and pondering what it meant and what to do. Had he really lived those lives? But they were from the past. That would mean he had lived before. It was then that Mike felt overwhelmed. All the feelings were more than he could handle. He went to a closet in his bedroom and pulled out a cardboard box. He opened it and took out a needle. It slid into his arm, and he collapsed back onto his bed. Images and colors danced through his mind.

Mike opened his eyes and saw daylight peeking though the edges of the curtains. He felt groggy but ok. He got up and went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He felt at peace for a moment. He turned and went to the living room. He should have been hungry, but he wasn’t.  A thought came to him. Grandfather. If only he could talk to him. His eyes opened wider, could it be. The letter he was supposed to open when he was twenty-one, it must be about the machine, it had to be! Mike jumped to his feet and ran to the basement. Soon he was opening an old trunk with the name “Tom J. Harmston” stenciled on the side in thick black ink. It held mementoes and other items prized by his grandfather. Mike saw the white envelope and grabbed it. After pulling out the one-page letter he started to read.,

“Michael; we have lived before, and we will live again. If you have used the machine, then you know this already. If not, then the machine is still a gift waiting to be used. It only reveals who you were, not who you will be. I believed what I saw from the machine. You may or may not. Having past lives; it goes against everything I believed, until I saw things I couldn’t deny. I used it many times. It shows you only the last moments of your previous life, the rest of the memories come later.

Where did it come from? I tried to track it to its origin. It was modified by somebody who must have attached the screen and the needle in the early 1940’s. The trail goes back as far as Paris, in the eighteen hundreds. A time of great discovery that was!  How exactly it works doesn’t matter; that will remain a mystery, I’m sure.

It is a window into your many pasts. It re-connects you to one of those pasts every time you use it. Use it to your advantage, for you can learn so much by tapping into the wisdom and memories you have accumulated before.”

The letter ended by saying he loved him. Mike put the letter down. Past lives? Yes, in his heart he knew it was true. How, didn’t matter. The machine was a mystery, one not of this world. How many times had the man done this? He missed his grandfather, and now Mike knew that he hadn’t become delusional later in life after all. He spoke the truth about the machine. It was really a machine with fantastic power.

It was the next day when Mike decided to try the machine again. Grandfather’s letter had had a reassuring effect on him. He wanted to see another one of his past lives, even though his mind was already full of lifetimes of memories from the last two trips. If this new trip was bad, with too intensive  memories, then he would put the machine away forever. Mike paused and thought for a moment: the machine must scan through his past lives and select one. He wondered how it knew which one to pick. Mike went to his bedroom and sat down at the desk. He looked at the blank screen. The machine seemed indifferent to him. Indeed, Mike got the feeling from it that it did not care if anyone ever used it or not.

The needle dangled over the edge of the desk, hanging from the tube where Mike left it. He pulled the chair closer. Then he slowly reached over and flipped the switch. He brought his hand over to the needle and grabbed it between his index finger and his thumb. Mike didn’t wince as he pushed the sharp point of the needle into his arm. The darkness lifted from his eyes, and he looked at the screen. There were endless rows of beige colored buildings. One or two stories high, they looked old to Mike. The roads were of dirt, and they twisted and turned around corners in a haphazard manner.

He was shouting unintelligibly at someone.  Mike felt something in his hands and looked down. It was a rifle. One that looked like a military style weapon. He saw he was wearing tan colored loose-fitting clothes, and he had a satchel over his shoulder. He knew it contained ammunition. The man he spoke to nodded and turned to run down the street. Mike knew he had to hide in one of the buildings, the enemy was coming. Quickly he ran to a doorway and kicked the loose hanging door in. A family cried and ran to another room. He watched and waited, peering around the edge of the doorframe for a second, then pulling his head back.

 Suddenly the doorframe exploded into fragments, and Mike stumbled backwards. He fell on his back, but realized he wasn’t injured. Looking around he couldn’t see his weapon. Just as he started to stand an enemy soldier entered the room with his rifle at the ready. Mike reached into his belt and pulled out his knife, then lunged forward. But his aim was off, only cutting the enemy’s arm below the shoulder. The two men started to wrestle and strike out at each other. It was a fight to the death Mike knew. The soldier leaned back and swung his elbow around hard, it caught Mike in the jaw. He fell back to the floor again, this time hurting and dazed. The man quickly reached down and grabbed the knife now lying on the floor, then he fell on top of Mike and raised it. Mike was on his back; he had to fight for his life. But the swing of the knife had  begun, and with increasing momentum the enemy drove it home. The soldier forced the blade into Mike’s chest, then used both hands to push it to the hilt. Mike knew he had lost. As his vision faded, he thought about the things he still wanted to do in life, it wasn’t fair.

Mike saw darkness until the surroundings of the room came back into view. The screen was dark again. Mike pulled the needle out of his arm and let it drop. His mouth open, his eyes half open as he shook his head from side to side. Mike sat in silence. He was exhausted, the memories of another life pushed into his mind. Growing up poor, playing in the dirt streets with other kids. His parents would hit him if he disobeyed them.

Mike got up from the chair and threw himself down onto his bed. He rolled onto his back as a new feeling came to him, something that he realized was recurring since he started to use the machine. It was the feeling of what he could have done if he’d been given more time in each of his lives. There was so much more to do. So much more that he could have done, for himself and others. So much unfinished. The feeling was now overpowering. He felt regret. Mike lay there for several minutes. He was tired, but also restless so he got up and walked to the bathroom. There he stopped and looked at himself in the mirror, and for a while he just stood there.

& & &

The next day new memories were still pushing their way into Mike’s mind. He walked into the room where the machine sat and looked at it. Then he spoke softly. “Grandfather, you said the machine was a good thing, and that you could learn from your past lives and gain wisdom. Maybe I have. The machine has changed me.”

Later that afternoon Mike took the small cardboard box out of his clothes closet. Its contents he would never use again.  He dropped it in the waste bin behind the house and looked down one last time at the needle and rolled up plastic baggies in the now open box. He spoke in a low deadpan voice.

“I tired to escape from this life. Escape is something I no longer want.”

Mike walked back into the house. There was another task to do. Several minutes later he was in the basement, pushing the strange  machine into a storage closet. Mike gave it a final push then stood up and spoke. “Grandfather, the machine has made me want to live for the here and now. I have this life, and I intend to make the most of it from now on.”

& & &

Mike had turned his life around in only a few weeks. He had applied for several jobs and one of them had come back with an offer. It was a warehouse position and Mike was thrilled to get the chance to start proving himself. He had filled out all the employment forms, including one applying for benefits. Now he was driving to the doctor’s office to pick up a signed form he needed to hand in, acknowledging the physical exam he had taken. He would be starting his new job in a couple of days. He couldn’t wait to start paying his parents back for the money he had taken from them. And he couldn’t wait to start being the supportive and respectful son they  deserved. It was a beautiful day as he pulled into the doctor’s office parking lot.

Soon Mike was sitting alone in front of the doctor’s desk. He was getting impatient. The doctor should have had the form ready, but Mike was determined to relax and did not let himself become annoyed. He had not taken any drugs or alcohol for three weeks before his tests, so nothing should have shown up. Mike wondered if the machine had done anything to him that would show up on the physical, but he was pretty sure it hadn’t, he felt the same as always.

Finally, the doctor entered the room and nodded a quick hello at Mike before taking his seat behind the desk. He looked at Mike and started to speak.

“There is no easy way to say this. You have multiple organ damage. Soon they will start failing. The years of drug and alcohol abuse you subjected your body to have taken their toll. You have only months to live, I’m sorry.”

Mike stared ahead in shock. His eyes searched the doctor’s face, but the face looking back at him offered no hope. Mike sat there in silence as he tied to process the words he just heard. Then he managed to speak in a hushed tone.

 “But I want this life. Now I want it.” He slowly looked down at the floor and buried his face in his hands. “There was so much more to do, so much more”.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright David MacMillan 2025