The Vampire's Photograph by Kevin Emerson Page A

quickly across the room. “Never mind him,” Sebastian said, before Oliver could even form a question as to what the old man was talking about.
    The smiling receptionist held open a dark wooden door. She led them down a short hallway to an elevator. Brass doors slid open, revealing a cylindrical copper elevator car.
    â€œThe doctor will see you in exam room three,” the receptionist said, her smile unbreakable.
    The doors slid closed. Three was the top floor. The elevator began to rise.
    â€œOld ones are like that,” Sebastian started saying. “He’s almost at the end. It could be another century, or maybe only decades. It’s a confusing time for them. What was he saying to you, anyway?”
    Oliver shrugged. “I couldn’t really understand him,” he said, yet another lie coming so easily. Oliver supposed the old one was off his rocker but, still, what was that all about? What had he meant by a destiny?
    The elevator slowed, and the doors slid open, revealing a wide, circular room. Floodlights stood on metal stands, beaming white light into the center of the room. The effect made the dark iron walls seem almost invisible. In the center of the room was a standing contraption. It was folded open like a clamshell, each side made of silver mesh shaped like a body. Oliver stiffened when he saw it. Even though he’d been in the force resonance imager before, the sight of it always made him squeamish.
    â€œAhh, Ollie, welcome,” a friendly voice echoed from the darkness, and Dr. Vincent emerged from the shadows behind the lights. He was a young doctor, maybe two hundred fifty years old, with broad shoulders, a chiseled face, and slicked blond hair. Oliver had heard his parents say on more than one occasion that they were lucky to have such a young, bright physician around. Dr. Vincent had worked for years in research in the asylum colony of lower Morosia, a highly respected facility, if controversial for its methods.
    Dr. Vincent buttoned his white coat and stuck out his hand as Sebastian and Oliver reached the center of the room. Oliver put out his hand, and the doctor shook it vigorously.
    â€œHi,” Oliver said.
    â€œGood to see you, sir,” Dr. Vincent said to him, smiling, then turning to Sebastian. “Seb, nice to see you, too.”
    Sebastian handed him the manila folder. “Just the usual checkup today, Doctor?”
    â€œAnnual physical, same as always,” Dr. Vincent said cheerily. “So? Oliver, ready?”
    Oliver stepped up to the open, body-shaped FRI shell and turned around, backing into half. As his back met the cold metal, he shivered, feeling a ripple of worry, but he reminded himself that he was hopeful: Maybe this is all I need , Oliver thought, wondering if that could be possible.
    â€œHere we go,” Dr. Vincent said. He strapped Oliver’s arms in place at his sides, and then his ankles. Then he stepped back and closed the front half of the shell. As soon as the latch clicked, there was a sound like ruffling fabric, and the entire mesh shell shrunk and tightened to fit exactly around Oliver. The silver threads pressed cool against his face. No movement was possible except for his eyes, and his view was blurred by the mesh. Oliver vaguely saw Sebastian taking a step back. Oddly, he didn’t look like he enjoyed watching this.
    Dr. Vincent turned to a console beside the imager. Its brass surface was inlaid with controls and gauges. He pulled a lever and a deep humming overwhelmed Oliver’s senses. He felt himself beginning to rise. The imager moved steadily upward, stopping when his feet were equal with the doctor’s shoulders.
    â€œAll right, Oliver,” Dr. Vincent said, dialing in settings on the console. “This will be the standard checkup. You’ll feel some electric conduction as the imager identifies your force readings. As they start to appear in spectrum around you, you might get a little