by Sean Clark
An alarm sounds noisily from somewhere on Alika’s person. Shaking himself awake, Alika shifts himself upwards, stretching. Cecil turns back to him to see him rubbing his eyes and pulling the phone out of his pocket. He turns off the alarm, returning the apartment to its silent state. His gaze turns up towards Cecil. “What scenes did I miss?”
After breakfast and getting dressed, the two shuffle out to Alika’s car in the crisp morning air. Popping the address into the GPS, it leads them in the direction of the base.
Around the space center stands various non-descript buildings used by the agency. Some tower into the sky, their windows blocked off by dark tinting or white sheets. Cecil could see them from his apartment building normally. His eyes study the horizon, trying to pick out the hospital.
Alika finally pulls into one of the mostly bare parking lots. The building is unmarked save for the big brass numbers mounted on the stucco walls of the structure. Entering the building, they push through the frosted glass doors with the small jingle of a bell. The interior is bland and dark, like office space rather than a laboratory, covered in pristine looking tile and glossy painted walls.
There is no receptionist or secretary in sight, only hallways filled with doors. The long corridors lead off into darkness. “This is like the beginning of that one horror movie.” Alika elbows Cecil, yawning loudly.
A door closes heavily somewhere, echoing through the halls. “Welcome, you must be Mr. Ruiz, and friend.” A voice comes from down one of the dark hallways. A lanky man steps out from one of the dim hallways, wearing a draping lab coat on top of dark clothing. His deep-set eyes stare at them, his pale skin almost glowing in the darkness.
“That’s me.” Cecil mumbles, avoiding eye contact with the man. “What’s with this place?” He questions, eyes squinting into the darkness.
The man clears his throat. “You’ll have to excuse the facilities. We’re not really open for the public. Most of our clients are with the space agency.” He seems to glide across the floor, approaching the two with light footsteps. “My apologies, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Manases. I am the doctor of polysomnography here. Teddy… Theodore Griogair, your psychiatrist and I took classes together in university, undergrad.”
He reaches out his veiny hand to Cecil, catching his regard. Cecil looks down to grasp the hand in his own. Manases’ wrist looked as if he might break it if he shook too hard. Letting go, Manases nods at Alika, and motions to them to follow.
“Please, if you would.” He turns back towards the hallway he had appeared from. The lights pop on via motion sensor as they pass, finally reaching a door marked with the doctor’s name. The interior of his office is modestly decorated, sporting a series of screens across the wall, currently blank. The doctor yawns, pulling Cecil’s attention up from the floor.
“Hmm, excuse me.” Manasus blinks rapidly a few times, eye focusing and locking onto Cecil, a discerning gaze looking him up and down. “So, you’re one of the Martians, huh?”
Cecil cringes and grits his teeth. He had heard the name before, but it sounds different coming from the doctor.
“I’ve always wanted to get inside the brain of someone who had been in cryo. Metaphorically of course.” The peculiar doctor takes his seat across his desk which sits in the middle of the room. His eyes dart back and forth between Cecil and the monitor sitting on his desk. “You see, during my graduate work, I studied the case of the various test subjects who underwent the… procedure.” His lips smack with the enunciation of each consonant. “We received your file after you called. There’s several notes here as well… Griogair says you have issues sleeping. Interesting. We’ll have to see about that.”
“I don’t want to hear about how interesting my case is.” Cecil snaps. “I’m only here because Griogair said he couldn’t do any more for me. I’ve been passed around from doctor to doctor, to physical therapist, to psychologist, and psychiatrist, now to you. Everyone thinks they’ve hit gold when they take me in, being able to study someone who has been through what I have. I’m not interested in being a play toy like everybody seems to take me for. I just want to be better.” Cecil rests his hands on the table, leaning over towards the man’s face.
Manases maintained eye contact with Cecil. His chair screeches against the tile floor as he pushes it back, standing up. “Like I said, I have your file.” He says matter of factly. “I know what you’ve been through. Part of my interest lies in being able to help you… especially since more people will inevitably suffer the same effects.” A lump grows in Cecil’s throat.
The doctor continues, arms crossed. “I’m sure you know of REM sleep. Rapid Eye Movement. It’s the point in your sleep cycle where you experience dreams. It’s also the most important for proper rest… to wake up feeling rejuvenated. It allows your brain to heal as well.” He begins motioning with his hands. “Now… Cecil, you recently had a tumor removed from your brain… somewhere between frontal lobe and temporal lobe. That spot right behind your temple. This goes without saying, but whenever you poke around in the brain, you risk messing up important things. However!”
Manses exclaims. “I don’t think that’s your case. You see, you’ve been through a very specific form of brain trauma, if you want to call it that. Cryo sleep. Not to mention, several comas. In both of these states, your brain never enters REM sleep. Tell me Mr. Ruiz, did you dream when you were on Mars?”
Cecil is taken aback by the sudden rant. “Yes… I guess I did dream up there, at least when I was sleeping normally. After the accident, though… I can’t remember. You already know I was in a coma for a period of time. When I came out, I was active for almost two weeks before the tumor was discovered and I was put back under, but I didn’t sleep much then. There were… circumstances.”
“I see.” Manases taps at his lips with his index finger. “Well, that’s why you’re here today, isn’t it? With out instruments, we’ll follow your brain activity, we can see what your brain is doing while you’re asleep. Please, let’s get you ready.”
Chapter 9
Cecil had been directed to take a place on the bed. The cold room is plain and clean looking, save the instruments crammed up against the walls. The mattress feels overly firm, but not too unlike the bunks he had slept on previously in various places. The covers smell strongly of detergent, scratchy and worn as if they had been washed many times. Heart pounding in the silence, Cecil takes deep breaths, focusing on keeping his eyes closed. Any feeling of fatigue had been replaced with anxiety. The lights around him dim. It was reminiscent of the station, permanently in a state of gloominess.
In his time of blindness, stumbling around the station, Cecil had been able to find his way around by the dots of light invading his vision. They both comforting, but also brought back feelings of being lost and helpless.
A line of light comes from under the door to where the Manases and Alika were waiting. The big pane of glass on the wall was their one-way mirror to where they could watch him and his readings.
Silence invades the room, but is quickly broken by the sound of the door latch clicking open and the hinges squeaking. Manases, in his dark coat, appears over him. A pair of rubber gloves snap as the doctor pulls them snugly down around his wrists.
“Cecil, I’m going to attach the electrodes for the EEG now… they will measure your brain activity.” Manases speaks slowly, his voice low and calm. “Please don’t place yourself in a position where they may be pulled off.”
Cecil tries to nod, but the hands grab him by the temples before he can move. He feels the net of wires and sensors be pulled over his head, the cold metal contacts meeting his skin along his forehead. Uncomfortable, Cecil pulls himself up on the bed more, resting his head on the contoured foam pillow. Manases breathes loudly through his nose as he fiddles with the sensors.
“I’m going to introduce some tonal frequencies into the room that mirror your brain waves… they should help you get to sleep more… easily.” The doctor explains
dryly, adjusting the sensors one last time. “If you truly can’t reach REM efficiently on your own, they will help speed up the process. After I leave, just focus on taking deep breaths. Listen to the sound of your breath and the tone around you, and allow yourself to drift off.”
Manases steps away for a moment, and comes back with a small clamp to attach to Cecil’s index finger, a heart rate monitor. Cecil becomes conscious of the sensors resting lightly on his skin, like a strange ticklish sensation.
The doctor moves behind him, placing his hands carefully on Cecil’s collar bones. “Breath in, breath out.” He directs Cecil. Cecil begins to feel his chest rise and drop, closing his eyes to block out the light. The doctor lifts his hands away, before taking a few steps back. In the silence, Cecil can hear the door squeak open again and close with a click.
A faint humming enters Cecil’s ears, overcoming the sound of his beating heart and his breath. It feels almost like the station, buzzing if it were alive, with the power in conduits, air flowing through the ventilation system. At one point, it was easy for him to sleep in the station up on Mars, the white noise putting him to sleep. The accident changed that.
Those nights at Secundus, deep under the Martian ground, another energy was present. “Mother,” Cecil mouths, semi-conscious. That hole in the ground was cold and drafty, persistent in its uncomfortable feeling. However, there was something else down there that distracted him from the tension created after the accident.
Still breathing deeply, each rise and fall of his chest takes Cecil farther from consciousness. His eyes feel heavy, glued shut from exhaustion.
There is a source of heat radiating from somewhere, stifling. It slowly becomes hard to breath, the humidity engulfing him. A shiver runs up his spine. It is cold all of a sudden. He can barely breathe. Cecil feels as if he is falling, and no amount of struggling can set him right. His breathing becomes more difficult. It feels as if a weight is pressing down on his chest. His lungs begin to fill with liquid. A hum in the distance grows louder, piercing.
Cecil flails, struggling to push himself away from the feeling, his arms swinging at nothingness. Something holds him down. He kicks his legs, trying to free himself. There is a force resisting against his movement.
A loud bang resonates through the room, causing Cecil to jump up, awake. His eyes shoot open. The door had been swung open, with such force that it hit the back wall with a loud bang. The blankets had been tangled up around his legs and feet, and the net of sensors had been pulled away from his head. Gasping for air, Cecil gulps down big breaths, the heavy feeling from before now absent.
“Cecil, Cecil!” someone shouts. Alika’s hands grasp onto his wrist. The doctor was picking up the discarded sensors off the ground. The light had been brought back up too. Cecil squints into the brightness. Alika props him up.
“You, sir. Help Ruiz get changed.” Manases orders. “I’m going to mark up these readings. Come to the office when you’re ready.”
Alika nods. Cecil catches his concerned gaze. Moving away, Alika pulls Cecil’s clothes off the hanger on the wall, handing him the jeans and t-shirt. Alika quickly turns away, and Cecil discards the hospital gown. His arms feel weak. He pulls the clothes on quickly, struggling as they stick to his skin.
“What… came to you just now, Cecil?” Alika asks timidly, still facing away.
“I remembered… the accident.”
Chapter 10
“I can tell you what I know… or what I don’t know first. It’s up to you.” Manases fiddles with his computer. The screens beside him flicker on.
“Just… spare me the bullshit.” Cecil sits in the chair, running his fingers through his bangs, his scalp still sticky with sweat.
“Didn’t I say I wanted to help you?” The doctor glares up at him slightly from his glowing computer screen. “Usually, I just pass my readings on to another part of the lab, and they deal with informing the patients. You’ll have to excuse me if my bedside manner is rusty.” Manases clicks his mouse furiously, and several waveforms pop up on the wall-mounted screens beside them. “I’m assuming you experienced some sort of dream just now, a bad one. The thing about dreams is that we don’t really know where they come from and why. I can tell you, however, what takes place in your mind when one happens, and how the brain reacts to what it thinks it is experiencing. For you… measuring your brain waves between stages of sleep showed me some nice, unique patterns.”
“What about that was nice?” Alika speaks up. Cecil gives the doctor a pleading look.
“It’s just a manner of speaking. Please let me continue.” Manases points at one of the more active waveforms. “This reading is from Cecil’s amygdala reacting during the REM cycle we just witnessed. This part of the brain controls memory and emotions… mostly emotions like anger… and fear. The parietal lobe, in the center of the brain, here…” He motions to the second graph. “…is where all the senses coming from different parts of the brain get put together. As you can see, it’s not as active as the amygdala. Cecil, what did you see in your dream, exactly?”
“See?” Cecil shakes his head. “It was more of a feeling, I guess. Like… I couldn’t do anything. I was helpless. There was nothing but darkness, surrounding me.”
“Just what I was afraid of. What I suspect is that your amygdala is not communicating properly with the rest of your brain. Your dreams are more primal than that of a normal person, or rather a normal brain. You don’t dream normally because your brain has forgotten how to do so.”
“How does that happen?” Cecil asks blankly.
“At the beginning of the test just now, the frequency of the tones you experienced started at a very low frequency. They are similar to the ones experienced in deep sleep. With my normal regiment, the frequency gradually increases over the course of a couple hours until you arrive at a very high frequency that help you move into REM sleep. That is usually when normal tests start getting meaningful readings.” Manases drums his fingers on the desk annoyingly.
“Cecil was barely in there for ten minutes, doc.” Alika notes. “We started seeing action almost right away.”
“Indeed. Mr. Ruiz started experiencing a dream like state even though my readings were showing him in a deep sleep. Between his advanced state of mental exhaustion and the current state of his brain, it must have triggered this experience. To be honest, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“What do you mean the state of my brain?” Cecil clenches his fists. “I just want to know what’s wrong.”
“Mr. Ruiz, how many times must I tell you, I am here to help. This is pure conjecture at this point, but from what I think, the freezing process and the dialysis somehow skips over this area of the brain, the amygdala. It’s too deep in the skull to be affected by the deep deep cold you’re subjected to. It stays active the entire time you’re asleep, frozen. It becomes overactive, and puts your brain activity out of balance.
The situation you’re in now… it’s of a different type of dream stage. It’s crude, to put it bluntly. The composition of your dreams is less about images and memories, and more like… feelings. Fortunately, I don’t think the reaction we saw could happen inside of normal rest without the proper stimulation. Nevertheless, you’re missing out on a large part of your natural sleep cycle, which would allow you to wake up feeling rested.
Mr. Ruiz, you’re likely suffering more intense manifestations because of how much time you’ve spent under cryogenic hibernation… only about a year between each period of you being frozen. A condition like this… chronic sleep deprivation, eventually leads to more intense health and mental complications. I doubt you’re the only one effected, though. Individuals don’t often return from the planet after such short amounts of time. However, if and when they do, these people could fall into the same condition as you I’m afraid.”
“Do you think the space agency knows?” Cecil looks Manases in the eyes.
“Gods, no. There’s not enough cases to attempt to explore an
issue like this. They would never budge either, unless they can prove it isn’t just a fluke. In that world, making big changes is expensive, and they won’t do anything without being 110% convinced. For them to even consider something like this… somebody would have to die.”
Alika finally stands up, dragging Cecil’s eyes up to him. “So, what do you suppose we do?” He asks indignantly. “Do you have a way to fix Cecil’s brain?”
Manases waves at Alika to sit back down. “This isn’t something that is so easily fixed. Training the brain out of patterns like this takes ages. Normally for brain injuries, a combination of therapy and rest will suffice. However, this isn’t something that will heal itself. I mean, the Amygdala is technically working just as it should, it’s just decided to not play with the other parts of the brain when it wants to. It’s like… a lazy eye. Often you will see the use of an eye patch on the opposite eye to help the lazy one return to proper use. However, we can’t just turn off one part of the brain. For now, Mr. Ruiz, the only thing you can do is rest and wait.”
Cecil sits in the chair still silent. Goose bumps had appeared on his arms, a chill running up his neck. His eyes are heavy, and he feels bags under them. He opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted again by the doctor.
“Of course, that’s not so easy for you right now, is it? I know you will probably be averse to this, but I want you to take home this disk. It will play that specific tone for you again. Perhaps it will help you sleep, if not give you a few nightmares. In my opinion, it’s worth it to get some proper rest.”
The computer in front of him spits out the CD tray and he pushes the disk into an empty case. Cecil stretches out his hand and takes it. Without warning, the Doctor stands up, hands crossed behind his back. Out of reflex, the other two do the same.
