The Guilt Machine

by Daniel Macintyre

            For some time, I had not been well…

            I had lain immobile, virtually insensitive to the world around me in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling and vaguely acknowledging my woes… 

            I awaited the operation, that uncertainty which loomed over me and threatened to either end or preserve my existence… A delicate procedure, I was told, whereby the utmost skill and precision available to the science of the year 2043 would be applied on my behalf.

            If a failure, if one minute slip of the finger or miscalculation of the mind on the part of my surgeons and healers should occur, then all would be lost. Brain damage, a vegetative state, or even instant death awaited me. 

            This could not be… 

            But it could be… It could…

            And so I lay, numb from fear and also the effects of my malady, upon the hospital bed. 

            Shortly before the procedure was to take place, I had begun to experience… Hallucinations… Vivid recollections of my past and its most troublesome moments… Sudden pains shot through my brain and caused my body to shudder convulsively…

            Of these effects, I had been forewarned…

            Three days before the procedure, a strangely dressed clown with vivid colours upon his face and strange, high-heeled shoes sauntered casually into my ward and smiled eerily at me. In his left hand, he held a few balloons which kept changing colour and shimmering oddly under the white hospital lights… He then came right up to me and attached one of the balloons to the side of my bed… 

            He then smiled again and departed, whilst odd shapes and colours whirled and danced on the white wall in front of me…

            Two days before the procedure, the ceiling above me disappeared in a white haze of light, and this light remained for some time, brilliant and unchanging. My mind grew weary of it and I began to wonder if I had perished and was about to be lifted up into some higher realm; however, the brilliance above me suddenly darkened and deepened into a black abyss, and which point I must have screamed terribly, for I felt motion by my side and a sudden scratch on my arm, and then all went blacker still until I awoke, hours later, on what must have been the day before my operation.

            For a while, all was quiet, save for the usual sounds of hospital apparatus and a bustling noise in the corridor outside. Then, a man suddenly appeared in front of my bed, wheeling another bed on which was… another me…? Blue eyes, dark hair, the same slight scar on the left cheek…

            The world suddenly seemed to shift about me, and I felt dizzy- I then realised that my bed was moving and I was being wheeled away by a second man, out of the ward… Another scratch on the arm, and all was dark once more…

            Some strange, vague impressions passed through my mind, mostly remembered some time after: a dark, weirdly lighted room, odd sounds, whirring, clicking, drilling… And all the time, a fearful weight and anxiety in my brain, a potent fever…

            Then, nothing… until I awoke, sweaty and ill at ease, and saw a nurse standing before me wearing a pleasant smile.

            “Mr Alton, you are awake now. The operation was a success, and you are going to be all right!” I felt a dizzying relief. At last, all was over, and all was well!

            I did not feel the way I had expected, though; there was still a strange weight in my mind, and it seemed that the world about me had an odd, unwholesome quality…

            I told the nurse, but she smiled again and reassured me that some unusual after-effects were to be expected. “All is well,” she repeated, “All is well!”

            #

            After three days, during which I slept a great deal, I was released from the care of the hospital and returned to my apartment, where I was to rest for a few days before resuming my work. I still felt tired, and the sense of mental weight and a dubious environment had not yet passed. I resigned myself to waiting and resting up; these feelings, surely, must pass…

            On the second day of my return, I had tuned in to the news and was giving about half of my attention to the latest developments in the world about me; a bright, business-like young woman was presenting the latest facts and events in the Martman case. I wasn’t particularly familiar with the name or the story, but I vaguely recalled that Martman was a character suspected of criminal activity and the murder of two citizens, yet another of those dubious persons with wealth likely obtained via corruption, a large portion of which was likely being used to cover over the aforesaid corruption…

            It was when the screen presented photographs of Martman’s supposed victims that my attention was suddenly fully engaged upon the story.

            I almost certainly recognised one of those two persons… no! Both of them, I became aware, I knew… How it was I knew them, I was not immediately sure; but I felt a sudden nausea and profound sense of fear, and I leapt up from my seat and made as if to run, why and to where I knew not…

            The image of one of the deceased individuals was now replaced in my mind by a growing memory, a sequence of events whirling about and organising themselves into an ordered event, which seemed to proceed from the feelings of fear and unease which had gripped me…

            The victim was standing in a dim room, shaking and uneasy, surrounded by several men whose faces were not entirely clear in the feeble light, but seemed grim and intent on some sinister purpose… Standing in front of the victim and glaring into his eyes was a man with a gun.

            That man was… Me!

            He… I… Said in a sharp voice: “You thought you could speak, didn’t you? But I will shut your mouth forever!” I… I fired the gun, and the man before me was no more… I… I killed him… Did I not? But… I had never known this before… Never…

            As I stood, now shaking myself and sweating terribly, my mind suddenly took a wild turn away from this terrible scene that had just played out there, and switched to a new, yet no less terrible, situation…

            As it came, I fell to the floor with a sickening weakness, but this did not stop the dreadful images from afflicting my mind…

            Another man, the second in the photographs shown in the news report, was walking calmly down a quiet street somewhere in the city… A bright sun shone upon him, clearly revealing his features and clothing. He was a smart, confident-looking man of business, with a brisk walk and a determined, almost righteous manner. I saw that look of his, and it filled me with hatred! Bitterness… And also dread… 

            And so, as the man beside me manoeuvred the wheel of a quick, black vehicle in which we were travelling, I opened the window on my side of the car and… gunned down the brisk businessman…

            #

            It was night, and I awoke cold and shivering from a disturbed and feverish sleep…

            For a moment, I could not think… 

            Then the memories came again, stronger, harsher, terrifying… 

            The fear and guilt that I felt seemed intensified… doubled, almost, as though I felt the same guilt, the same terror, but with the heart and nerves of two men, not one! Additionally, I had begun to experience hallucinations once again- shadows, movements, shimmering lights- which I could not understand… Had not my malady been rectified!?

            It was too much…

            I arose, panicking, muttering, and staggered to the door. I must get out of here! The walls seemed to be closing in, menacing me, condemning me, choking me…

            I flung open the door, and received such a fright at what I saw that I clutched my chest, fearing that my heart would give out under so much stress.

            A person was standing right in front of my door, looking at me attentively, scrutinising my face intently whilst seeming to smile in a malicious, uncouth manner… He was a very tall, slim figure with grey hair and a terrible intensity within his eyes…

            As I stared back in horror at that man, I became aware of a sense of recognition, remembering… 

            Had I not seen this grim face before? In the hospital… Above the bed… And… Amidst the whirring, clicking… Drilling!

            Then, I fell at his feet and passed into a blissful oblivion…

            #

            I was pleased with what I had achieved…

            After years of work, countless setbacks and the foul breath of several volatile patrons and investors touching the back of my neck, I had finally wrought a mechanical and psychological marvel from the labours of my mind… 

            I, Professor John L. Pax, have created a scientific marvel… But I did not care for the recognition or honours that the scientific community could bestow upon me. No, these are pathetic, trivial things which have no meaning for me! Rather, I stand to gain millions- perhaps billions- as a result of what my work can accomplish. And the knowledge, known to me and just a few others, that I, Professor John L. Pax, have outwitted the law and stood above the justice system of our age- yes! And even the laws and creation of god- if such a thing exists- have been forced to bow before me! 

            For I, Professor John L Pax, have found a way to conquer guilt, fear, conscience- some of the greatest enemies of the human mind and the biggest obstacles that stand in the way of a man of action and intellect! It was not easy; long have I laboured, but I have done it, and already I am a richer, greater man!

            It began some time ago, one evening in my little laboratory which, to the fools outside my arrangements, is thought to be a private dental practice, when a person whom I knew to be of some interest to the law paid me a visit. He came with a couple of other men, obviously his bodyguards, and told me that it would give him great pleasure, and would pay me well, to develop a certain idea which I had recently discussed in an obscure scientific journal…

            I had not fully developed the entire scope and meaning of my idea in this journal, but I had suggested, in a manner which gave no sign of intent or design upon my part, that it might be possible to reduce or even obviate the effects of guilt upon the mind by means of a sort of transferral, or ongoing transfusion, of these inner judgements…

            The man explained to me that he had often encountered within his “profession”, a certain unsaid difficulty or unease centering around feelings of disquiet, and even, in some cases, abject fear, due to certain “necessary actions” a professional man may have (or may not have…) been obliged to carry out…

            He said that he would be willing to pay me a great deal of money to pursue such an interesting and daring idea, and that it may prove to be of great benefit to some of his “colleagues”, and perhaps even himself… His name was Martman, and I knew of his activities and just why such an idea would be of use to him…

            I had recently suffered a great deal at the hands of the law, they having discovered various procedures carried out by myself which they so foolishly and narrow-mindedly labelled as “unethical”, and so, armed with this incentive and also the promise of ample pay checks, I eagerly took up the project on behalf of Martman and any other person who may perhaps be troubled by the remembrance of certain past “challenges” to the external and internal law of man. 

            That fool Graham Parks… He was a fellow scientist and companion who had previously aided and accompanied me in some of my experiments and daring ideas, but after having explained the new project to him and its potentialities, he flatly refused to aid me and departed! “It’s against the universe”, he had insisted, “A sort of scientific blasphemy… Something monstrous will result.” The idiot! Never mind! If he was to desert me, then there would be no question of my sharing any of the monetary rewards this project may yield with anyone!

            The money, the achievement- mine, and mine alone. 

            And so I worked, tirelessly, to produce the device, a device I have come to call: The Guilt Machine.

            My investigations into the mind of man and the nature and workings of guilt led me to believe that a transferring or switching of guilt is easier and more achievable than a mere suppressing of such feelings; the later, though perhaps simpler on the face of it, is not an act I would consider altogether safe or healthy for the complex human mind- rather, an immediate transferral of the emotions and, in part at least, the memories attached to major manifestations of guilt and remorse may perhaps prove to be the most desirable… (Martman and some of his colleagues also expressed a measure of delight in the idea of an innocent being made to suffer the guilt of the guilty, a delight which the world at large would likely dub as “perverse”- though I myself care little either for the world or the pleasures of a few men…)

            In finding the correct victim to receive the guilt of another person, a little research into the nature of this person would be necessary. That he or she be of a weak-minded, anxious disposition, I found to be of some importance in increasing the likelihood of success for my device, and also that the victim be of a similar age to the one who was to be relieved of his guilt.

            Some years passed as I eagerly worked on the guilt machine, studying, building, experimenting, all the time feasting my inner eyes upon the vision of riches and achievement!

            During this time, some impatience was displayed on the part of Martman and his associates, and I was given to some anxiety and alarm over their aggressive demands that the work be completed more swiftly…

            They are to be pitied, I suppose, as their past perhaps weighs heavily in their quieter moments upon their conscience, though I myself have never been troubled by such childish feelings… 

            Finally, the guilt machine was complete, and I only required my first subject for the transferral of guilt…

            Thanks to my active and highly resourceful companions and investors, a plan of action was not too difficult to construct, and a suitable person was soon found: a Mr Alton, a weak, pitiable specimen soon to be admitted for brain surgery of a delicate nature… (I also found, after a little more work, that the malady affecting Mr Alton only served to increase the chances of success, to a level almost equal with that of certainty!)

            A couple of nurses and also some security personnel had been readily bribed into silence in the building- bribery is an easy thing in this part of the town- and, as Alton was weak and also prone to hallucinations, not too much trouble could result from our temporary removal of him.

            As some of the hospital staff could not be bribed, and to avoid suspicion should any unexpected visitors look in, it was decided that a carefully constructed double should take the place of Mr Alton the day before his procedure. I much admired the way in which this was done, thanks to the skills of Martman and some of his friends.

            Thankfully, the two medical men who were scheduled to operate upon Alton were only too willing to remain silent upon their discovering a strange absence of the malady afflicting our Mr Alton, for a modest sum!

            Whilst Alton was under our “care”, I managed to get hold of that fool Parks, and convince him to perform a procedure of his own devising upon our guest. Though untested, this procedure would halt the progression of Mr Alton’s malady for an appreciable period of time (enough time, we thought, to allow Martman to live a quiet, peaceful life before the natural end of his days).

            Parks would not agree to assist us in any of the work or procedures surrounding the guilt machine- the fool!- but his procedure upon Alton proved to be a success, and he was hence of some use to us…

            After Parks had done his work, we could proceed to install the guilt machine in both Martman and Mr Alton…

            This I did, inserting, through the use of tools and machinery in my private lab, a tiny metal structure into the skull of both Martman and Alton.

            This device, as well as possessing the necessary design to enact the transfer of guilt, also contained a special mechanism- a sort of cloaking device, you could call it- making it almost impossible to discover through any casual observations a doctor or scientist may choose to make. (Should Mr Alton happen to be in line for any more major brain surgery in the future, Martman and his associates were confident they could “deal with it.”)

            And so my great work was completed, and the first transfer made- would it work, however? I was concerned that it should, not merely for the sake of my own name, but also because of the reaction to failure that may come from some of my shady investors…

            Alton was monitored carefully after the procedure; returned to the hospital and his double removed at the appropriate time, he was watched closely for signs that my device was working…

            Sure enough, it was soon reported that Alton was displaying unusual signs of agitation and anxiety!

            Martman told me, in addition, that he “had never felt better…”

            I had done it! I, Professor John L. Pax, had disrespected the laws of man and nature most gloriously!

            Soon, wealth would be mine, coming from Martman and all those of his acquaintances who desired a similar procedure!

            Intoxicated with my triumph, I could not resist (one night at about 10.30, for night is the time when guilt often affects a man most acutely!) the urge to pay a visit to the residence of Mr Alton to gloat over my achievement and to see, with my own eyes, the guilt of two men in one body…

            #

            For days, I lived in fear and a growing collapse of mind and body… The scenes of murder and violence which… I?… had surely, yet somehow surely not, committed, filled my mind and would not stop.

            Something had to be done, but I could not do it, nor could I do a thing but lie on that accursed couch of mine and groan, to the very depths of my soul… My whole body was taut and consumed with an anxious dread, and I found myself unable to eat or attend to my body’s needs in the usual way… The hallucinations also remained, and only served to heighten my state of agitation!  

            My device had remained on during the whole of my affliction, and, I know not when, only that I must have been lying there for days, I fancied I heard that terrible name once again… Martman! Something about a terrible crime spree… tracked down… A Professor… Hax?…

            Then, exhaustion and sickness soon overcame me, and I fell into a state of unconsciousness from which I surely would never emerge…

            #

            It is all over now…

            At last, justice has triumphed!

            When I first awoke, I was in a small, white-walled cell, and a woman whom I took to be a nurse stood before me, smiling gently…

            She told me I had nothing to fear and that all was being taken care of.

            I noticed, with a flood of relief, that the weight in my mind had passed- the terror, the shame, the remorse… all washed away and replaced by a sort of numbing calm… I began to suspect that this calm was not entirely free from artificial means; yet, my overall feeling of wellbeing was in stark contrast to the storms that had previously raged in my soul!

            Later, I awoke from a light sleep and was faced by a small, thin man with little glasses and a distinctly official air.

            “You have been subjected to a truly unique experience in the history of man…” he began, without introduction or explanation, “and you are… lucky… A few days ago, you were taken from the hospital in which you awaited your treatment, and were placed in an illegal operating facility owned by Professor John L. Pax, who is now under arrest and has already been thoroughly questioned. He inserted into your skull, for the purposes of afflicting your brain, a tiny device, which he had somewhat vainly named: The Guilt Machine, which was linked to a similar device residing in the skull of one Fred Martman, who is now also under our… supervision…

            By means of these implants, certain feelings of human regret and remorse had been channelled from the mind of Martman directly into your own mind and soul. It seems that, even in some of the most seemingly accomplished and experienced of criminals, the condemnation of conscience still threatens to haunt them…

            The professor had been enlisted by Martman and some of his buddies for the purpose of producing and supervising the installation of these devices, a service which Mr Pax does not appear to have shied away from. He stood to achieve considerable wealth and acclaim amongst members of the criminal fraternity, who would have paid the professor handsomely in order to escape the clutches of that internal judge who follows a man wherever he may run…

            The professor did not reckon on the consequences, however, of his messing with the works of law and the divine, for upon Martman’s release from the bondage of internal law, he soon embarked upon a crime spree with such brazen abandon and boldness that it was not long before this proved to be his undoing…

            Martman did not hesitate to reveal to us the secret of the guilt machine and its blasphemous creator, Professor John L. Pax, and this repugnant creature was soon apprehended.

            The professor did not seem quite so bold and daring once he was exposed, and he told us everything he knew, including your situation. We found you, exhausted and near death, in your apartment, and hurried you to this mental institution.

            It was discovered that your brain had not yet been properly relieved of the malady which afflicted it- this has been taken care of; you have no need to fear. The implant has also been removed from your skull and is now being studied by some of our experts.

            The doctors here have given you a mild sedative to relieve any lingering distress that may remain, for your experience these past few days has been a bad one…

            Your body and nervous system have been subjected to the guilt load of two persons: that transferred to you from Martman, and also your own body’s natural reaction to the memories Martman’s guilt imparted. Such a weight of feeling is not healthy for any man to bear… Also, the troubling hallucinations inherent in the malady you are now relieved of only added to this potent brew of fear.

            Having explained this all to you, I will leave now- I wish you well in your future, Mr Alton…”

            And at this the brisk, small man concluded his businesslike relation of the terrible events which had taken place, gave me a stiff, brief nod of his head and then departed.

            And now… I am free! No weight, no pain- a normal and healthy world all about me! No longer does the guilt of two men weigh upon the heart of only one!

            I will go on from this, plan anew, grow stronger and take pride in my life…

            Yes- and I shall always endeavour to maintain safe ground morally as I navigate life’s paths, for never again do I wish to experience, in any serious form, that internal breaker of souls, that maelstrom of the mind: guilt!

(Copyright Daniel Macintyre 16/08/2026 protectmywork.com)