by Olga Werby
“Toby.” It was Vikka, calling from downstairs. “Dinner time.”
Toby stuffed her journal under her pillow, then pulled the blanket over her head. Perhaps she and Ruffy could pretend to be asleep.
“Toby?” There was a knock on her door. “Ready to join us?” Vikka asked.
Toby didn’t answer.
“Toby? Are you feeling all right?” Vikka walked into the dark room and bent over Toby.
Rufus had been agitated, rooting around Toby all evening. Now he sniffed at Vikka. Toby wished she were plugged in and riding him. Maybe he could go down for dinner instead of her. He liked to eat. He could sit on the table with a big plate of spaghetti and sauce, talking with everyone.
Vikka pulled the blanket off of Toby’s head, put her hand on Toby’s forehead, and frowned. “You have a fever, honey. I’m going to get your dad. You just keep on resting.”
She left and Toby heard her going down the stairs. Ruffy was agitated; he was squeaking into Toby’s ear.
Dad and Uncle Geo came up a minute later.
“Toby?” Dad said. “You know we need to call your doctor and measure your temperature and oxygen levels—”
“I don’t want to,” Toby said, but she felt lightheaded and strange.
Toby woke up in a hospital room. Sun was pouring through the big window by her bed. She hated it; it made her feel vulnerable. To make it worse, the hospital bed was positioned in the middle of the room, open on all sides. There was no way to hide, nowhere to turn for protection.
Between the sounds of her own wet coughs, she heard a high-pitched beeping. It was going faster and faster and faster.
People rushed into her room. Too many smelled unfamiliar. Toby didn’t want to deal with them all. Didn’t they understand that she was tired and not feeling well?
She heard snippets of words and conversations.
“Heart rate too high…”
“…high anxiety…”
“Sedative…”
“…she was sleeping…”
“Pull the curtain!”
The sunlight left her face and Toby felt a bit better. Now if only everyone would just go away and let her sleep.
“How much did you give her?”
“…sleep…rest…”
Will, Vikka, and George were in the waiting room just around the corner from Toby’s room. It was a private room, just for families of very sick kids—small, almost cozy, with a coffee pot in the corner and even a bowl of fruit. A nurses’ station was just outside. Will and Vikka had spent the night there; they planned to be with Toby for as long as it took. George had joined them in the morning.
Will had finally fallen asleep in one of the armchairs when May arrived. At George’s request, she had gone by the Crowes’ house first to pick up a few things for Toby—a toothbrush, clean underwear and socks, inhalers.
“Major,” she said softly, “could I show you something?”
She led George out of the room, leaving Vikka with Will.
“What is it?” George asked.
“I found this in Toby’s bed,” May said. She held out a small, purple, leather-bound journal.
“A diary?”
“That’s what I though at first. But I scanned it—you told us to—”
“You don’t have to explain. What did you find?”
“It’s weirder than a diary. I mean, I’m no expert, and you might want Vikka’s opinion on this—”
“May.” The major hated these preambles. “Just tell me what it is. Or do I have to read the kid’s inner thoughts too?”
May winced at the “inner thoughts” comment; she already felt guilty for invading Toby’s privacy. “Toby has been writing dialogues with her dead mother,” she said. “She writes both sides. It’s a bit strange, but that’s not what I found…disconcerting, sir. The last entry is an imaginary letter to herself. She writes about dying and becoming a new person. A person named Tabitha.”
George didn’t understand why May was acting as if something was really wrong. Kids wrote all sorts of crazy stuff.
“Tabitha doesn’t have cystic fibrosis. Will has cured her,” May continued. “And she describes moving to Florida and…she talks about riding a whale, sir.”
“Like using the BBI on a whale?” George asked. A while ago, he had given Toby a book on whales. It had been Major Evans’s idea; he’d found the idea of whale riding intriguing. Toby clearly did too. As had May.
“That’s what she seems to mean,” May said. “Toby also drew whales. They all had implants. And she drew herself…also with an implant.”
She looked at George significantly. They had discussed using human implants to create a permanent brain-to-brain connection between animals and their riders, but they’d never discussed it in front of Will or Toby. Even Vikka didn’t know about it. It was for the distant future, a top-secret government goal for the project.
“Toby just made a lucky guess,” George said. “She’s a very smart kid.”
“Yes, sir, she is. But I think Toby sees her connection to the animals differently than the rest of us do. She sees it as freedom. Her life is so constricted by disease that riding must be a release. Perhaps a permanent connection is something she really wants…or needs.”
George hadn’t really thought about Toby’s needs in that way. He looked at May appraisingly and considered this new information. Toby had told him how much she liked the raw physicality of the riding experience. Running, swimming, jumping—those were all impossible with Toby’s mucous-clogged lungs. “You might be right,” he said.
“There’s something else, sir. I’ve noticed a strong sense of euphoria when riding Miny, or even Bricks. Some of it, I think, comes from the animals themselves. Lilly explained it as a dopamine release. The animals seem to enjoy the human brain connection and, when the animal feels pleasure, I feel pleasure too. And when I feel good, so does the animal I ride. It’s like a reinforcement loop and…it may be similar to a drug addiction cycle. Emotional trigger, craving, ritual, using, and finally guilt. Not that I feel guilty. But Brats riding is very ritualized…”
She paused, as if reminiscing or perhaps examining her own feelings toward riding. “I only ride once a week, at most,” she said. “But Toby is connected to Rufus almost all the time now. And when she’s not riding him, she’s hooked into Twiggy. So…”
“Are you saying that Toby’s addicted to riding?” George asked. That could make things more complicated…or not.
“I don’t know, sir. I’m just putting it out there,” May said. “With the diary and her strange ramblings…well, I felt you should know about my experience.”
“Okay. Noted.”
“And it could also be that Toby was simply experiencing low oxygenation levels when she wrote all that stuff about whale riding and Florida and dying,” May added. “She was pretty out of it by the time Vikka found her last night.”
George eyed May carefully. She clearly found it difficult to accept that their project had turned a twelve-year-old into an addict. That made all of them complicit.
“It’s been a difficult week,” he said. He wanted her to feel better; he didn’t want her hiding intelligence from him because of personal guilt. “We’ll deal with it. Thank you for letting me know.”
“Yes, sir.”
“For now, let’s not talk to anyone about this. Let’s get our girl healthy again. And no more impromptu trips to public libraries. Public anything.”
“Agreed, sir. Sorry we let her slip away.”
“We need to keep our best rider healthy. I would really hate for anything to happen to our little girl.”
“I feel the same, sir. Toby grows on you.”
“Yes. Yes, she does.”
May turned to leave, but hesitated, “Sir?”
“Is there something else?”
“It’s Kyle. I think he was the first to spot Toby’s current illness.”
“When was this?”
“During pizza night, he mentioned she didn’t smel
l right. He was so agitated. I thought he was talking about something else. But with Toby so sick…”
“Well, some dogs can smell out cancers. It wouldn’t be a stretch for pigs to have a sensitive nose,” George said.
“They use pigs to hunt truffles, the mushrooms that grow underground—”
“I know what truffles are.”
“Sorry, sir. I was just pointing out that pigs have a very good sense of smell. I’ve noticed how overwhelming scents can be when I ride Bricks. Sometimes all those smells makes it difficult to focus on the task.”
“Have you noticed a different body odor coming from Toby?”
“No. As I said, I’m not as good as Kyle at riding Bricks. I find that I use most of my mental energy fighting for control. But Kyle and Bricks have bonded. Perhaps now that he’s not using all of his cognitive bandwidth to maintain dominance, he has a higher capacity for processing sensory data.”
“You’re beginning to sound like one of the scientists, May,” George said with a smile.
She gave him a smile in return.
“Once again, thank you for bringing this to my attention.”
“Yes, sir.”
George sat in the chair by Toby’s hospital bed. It had been over a week since she’d entered the hospital and the girl had been slipping in and out of consciousness the entire time. Will, Vikka, and George alternated sitting by her bedside. All of the Brats team visited from time to time, but they couldn’t stay—they had a lab to run.
Besides, the hospital decided to limit visitors after Toby’s heart rate kept spiking. The doctors still weren’t sure what had caused that, but they found that keeping the room dark helped. Vikka had suggested that Toby might be overreacting to her surroundings the way Rufus or Twiggy would in a similar situation. Privately, George agreed, but publicly he quickly shut her down. He didn’t want Will to think too far in that direction. They had all anticipated that the animals’ brains would be altered by the BBI connection; what was unexpected was how much the riders were changed by the experience. And Toby, on the cusp of adolescence, was probably more susceptible than the others.
George had spent a great deal of time with cognitive scientists. He knew that the human brain had two major restructuring periods—one at about two years old and another just at puberty. At those times, the brain was busily reshaping itself, trimming unnecessary neural connections and strengthening others. Toby’s brain wouldn’t be completely finished with the tail end of this restructuring until she was about twenty-five or so, but the majority of it would be happening now. That meant Toby was being deeply affected by her brain-to-brain connections. She was unique in this way—the only person on the planet to grow up a “brain rider.” No one could predict how it would shape her.
George had time to think about this a lot while sitting by Toby’s side. Her life would be short, but thanks to the project, it would be a remarkable life. Sure, he felt some guilt, but mostly he felt excitement at the possibilities. Toby was only the first; George would make certain she was not the last.
Toby moved and George turned toward her. Her brow was covered in beads of perspiration and the incessant beep of her heart rate monitor sped up. She was waking up, her anti-anxiety sedatives wearing off. George glanced over at her oxygenation reading. Even though pure oxygen was snaked directly into her nostrils via translucent tubes, she was hovering in the low eighties—too low to allow normal body and brain functions.
George took her frail, almost translucent hand in his own. “Toby?”
“Emmm.”
“Glad you’re back with us.” His voice was hushed.
Toby acknowledged him with a faint pressure of her fingers. “Uncle Geo?” Her voice was barely audible and she didn’t open her eyes. Still, it was wonderful to hear her speak. These were her first words in days.
“I’m here.” He squeezed her hand gently in return.
“I miss Ruffy.” She spoke so quietly, George had to deduce the words by watching the slight movement of her lips.
“He misses you too,” he said. “We all miss you.”
“I need Ruffy,” she said, her eyes still closed.
He understood. She was asking for the BBI connection. Perhaps May is right about the addiction. “Hospital folks aren’t keen on rats in their wards,” he said.
“Please…”
George leaned in close to Toby’s face. “You want to be connected?” he asked gently. It was his job not to assume.
“Yes.” Toby exhaled in relief. Her eyelids fluttered and opened halfway. “Uncle Geo?” She sounded a bit stronger this time, or perhaps, given her need to be understood, she was focused more on her surroundings.
“I’m here, Toby. I’ll get Rufus and the BBI to you as soon as I can. I promise.”
“I miss…I need to ride Ruffy.” It sounded like a confession.
“I know.”
“You…know?”
“Riding is addictive,” George said. It was almost an apology.
“I’ve been addicted for a long time,” Toby said. “I didn’t know you knew.” Her eyes opened a little wider. “Does Dad know?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Don’t tell him, please.”
“I won’t. I promise.” He was making a lot of promises. But so far, none conflicted with his agenda.
“Can you get Ruffy today? Right away? I get so anxious…I…I…”
Toby’s heart rate increased. Soon an alarm would sound and the nurses and doctors would rush in and throw George out of her room.
“We’ll find a way.” George patted her hand. Footsteps echoed outside the room and George eased himself up. “Hang in there, Toby.”
Toby started to cough and her weak body spasmed as her body attempted to clear her lungs.
“I’ll be back,” George reassured her.
George and May entered Toby’s hospital room, with Rufus on George’s shoulder. Will was seated beside Toby, looking exhausted and gray. He didn’t appear to have noticed their entrance.
George considered his next move. He didn’t want to hide anything from Will—that would only end in trouble later. But he didn’t want Will to flip out either. The man was on the verge.
“May?” George said softly. “Take the gear and wait for me on the staircase.” No one used the hospital stairs and it was unlikely May would run into anyone there. Certainly not Will.
May nodded and left with the heavy backpack.
George walked up to the bed and gave Toby a huge smile. “Hello Toby! Look who I brought to visit you.”
Will finally looked up. “You brought Rufus here?” he asked with a start. “Do the nurses know?” He glanced nervously toward the door. The head nurse was rather intimidating.
“Nah,” George said. “It’ll be our little secret. Won’t it, Toby?”
Toby didn’t respond. Either she was asleep, or drugged, or her oxygen levels had dropped too low. George lowered Rufus onto her chest anyway. The rat scampered up and nuzzled Toby’s ear.
“Ruffy?” It was more of a breath than a word, but it was a conscious reaction.
“He missed you,” George said. He pulled a chair to Toby’s bedside and sat.
“Thank you, George,” Will said. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
“Toby needs her fan club with her,” George said.
“She does,” Will agreed. “It’s been a bad week.”
“I know. Will, why don’t you go home and get some rest? Rufus and I will keep an eye on your girl.”
“You were here this morning already,” Will protested.
“I’m good. Get some rest. You’re no use to Toby if you get sick too.”
Will got up reluctantly. “You’ll let me know if…if anything?”
“I’ll call you with any news, Will. Go home and get some sleep in a real bed. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“I’ll just be—”
“Get some rest, Will. Go.”
Will walked out. He looked li
ke he was ready to pass out from exhaustion. George figured that between the lab and the hospital, Will hadn’t slept more than a few hours this past week.
George listened for the ding of the elevator, then waited a few more minutes before texting May to join him in Toby’s room.
“You’ve got a ticket to ride,” he told Toby in a singsong, leaning in to speak directly into her right ear. Rufus was busy grooming her left one.
A light smile flittered over the girl’s face. She was ready. More than ready.
May walked in and pulled the door closed most of the way—it would be too suspicious to shut it completely. She took out the portable equipment, tried to make it inconspicuous under an end table, and plugged it into the wall socket. She handed George the headband. It had grown smaller and smaller over the years and now it was almost like a barrette. It looked a bit ridiculous on Kyle’s head, but it was perfect for May and Toby. Stylish, even.
“Should I?” May asked.
George nodded. “Yes. It’s in the proper position.”
May flipped the switch.
The reaction was immediate. Both Rufus and Toby went rigid—then melted into the familiar sensory experience.
Toby’s heart rate soon went down to seventy beats per minute—the lowest George had seen since she had been in the hospital. Her breathing also stabilized and her oxygen levels went up close to ninety.
“Wow,” May said softly. “If this doesn’t prove addiction…” The beneficial effects of riding were obvious—to both Toby and the rat. They were both addicts and, after a week of deprivation, they were getting their fix. “We have to tell Will,” she said.
“No.” It was Toby who spoke—and this was the strongest her voice had been in over a week. She didn’t open her eyes, but Rufus was now looking at May. “Please don’t. I know I don’t get to live a long life—”
“Toby! Don’t say that!”
George put his hand on May’s shoulder. “Toby knows her condition, May. Don’t patronize her.”
