Beautiful Days: Stories

by Joyce Carol Oates

  Soon, without understanding what was wrong, and that it was his perception that was amiss and not the actual world, Maada began to puzzle over the S___ children, who did not seem (to him) to be the “right sizes.” Especially his favorite Riki, a lively three-year-old, appeared to be “different sizes” depending upon his physical proximity to Maada. For Maada might sight Riki at a distance, without realizing that it was a distance, and so the child would appear to Maada much smaller than he was, like a doll; without three dimensions to suggest depth all was flattened, cartoon-like. Such experiences bewildered Maada who could not have explained them, even before the impairment to his cerebral cortex, in clinical or intellectual terms. The diminution of the children in size was particularly frightening to Maada who soon became convinced that Riki, the smallest child, was in danger of going out—as a flame is blown out.

  Conversely, adults who seemed, to Maada, of a comfortably small, contained size at a distance, loomed large up close, and could be terrifying. The overall shifting sizes of persons and objects was disorienting to Maada, and eventually exhausting, but he learned to shut one eye so that the expectation of three dimensions (whatever “three dimensions” had come to mean) was not an issue.

  In all, there would be eleven surgeries performed on Maada’s brain, each for a distinct purpose. One of the more successful was the instillation of selected amnesia, through “erasures” of certain clusters of neurons in the brain matter surrounding the hippocampus, with the result that the subject could not remember that he’d had surgery, along with much else. To account for his part-shaved head, the subject was told that he’d had an infestation of head lice—his hair had had to be cut off and his head shaved in the affected area. The surgery left wounds and scars which had to be disguised with a scalp covering, in this case a “wig” that was a patch of hair matching the subject’s own hair, which he could not remove from his head, and would not try to remove, under the impression that it was a “scalp flap” that had been secured with stitches. In addition, Maada was told that the patch contained toxin to repel lice. All this, he seemed to accept without question.

  Another of the surgeries concentrated on the agency of will, willfulness. With neurons in these areas “hosed clean,” these were subdued.

  Eventually, the “scalp flap” was enlarged, and a more serious, systematic neurosurgery was performed on the subject. (Of course, the subject was kept in an anesthetized state for such surgeries which could require as long as nine or ten hours.) Exposed as a clockwork mechanism, the brain was readily examined by a team of experimental neuroscientists involved in the TNM project. Could one communicate with a region of the subject’s brain without involving the subject (“consciousness”) at all? Could one give contrary signals to parts of the brain, and force upon the brain a quasi-consciousness, born of desperation? Could “consciousness” be chased into a region of the brain, like a rat into a cage corner? Maada, in his state of suspended animation, barely breathing, bodily functions monitored minutely, was an ideal subject, for he was in excellent physical condition and, in recent months in particular, inclined to passivity.

  In a sequence of surgeries parts of the subject’s brain were excised and replaced with artificial devices—chips, stents. Such experimentation is crucial, for one day—and that day not far in the future—neurophysiological “enhancements” will be necessary to provide longevity to humankind; at least, to world leaders and members of the ruling classes. One of the most innovative experiments developed at the Institute has been the gradual replacement of a subject’s blood with a chemically identical *blood that was not red but near-transparent, a more practical blood-composition in which white cells are better equipped to combat bacterial and viral invasions than “natural” blood.

  In another yet more radical experiment, through electrical charges directly into the memory center of the subject’s brain, circumnavigating conscious channels, the subject was informed in a vividly “mystical” dream that he was not an ordinary, mortal human being but a native of Ganymede, one of four large, beautiful moons of the sixty-seven moons of Jupiter. Given the code name “Joseph” the subject had been sent on a stealth mission to Earth, to the United States, in the guise of a youthful, male native of the African nation Nigeria; to throw off suspicion, the subject was outfitted with a very dark, purplish-black skin, hyper-alert senses (visual, auditory, olfactory) and “radioactive” eye sensors. In this guise, as “Joseph,” the subject could see through solid objects; he could hear not only what was being said at a distance but he could also “hear” thoughts. He knew languages instinctively—without needing to think, he “translated” these languages into thought. In this superior being, the thin scrim between consciousness and unconsciousness had been penetrated.

  Of course, there have been unanticipated side effects of such experimentation: in several test subjects these have included convulsions, psychosis, and death. (So far as we know, none of these have been subjects in Dr. Lehrman’s lab.)

  HERE, THERE. How do we distinguish?

  Despite J.S. Maada’s spatial destabilization, or perhaps because of it, the subject exhibited no difficulty in understanding, or imagining that he understood, how his cramped living quarters in Edison, NJ, were at the same time the open, unbounded atmosphere of Ganymede; he was not baffled that he could be here and there simultaneously.

  Partly, this extraordinary mental feat was made possible by the near-total modification of the subject’s basic memory—that is, the neural region in which were stored memories of the subject’s earliest childhood and adolescence, altered to include purposefully vague “memories” of Ganymede. In a bold experiment the subject was shown photographs taken in Nigeria, initially landscapes of surpassing beauty, villages, celebrations, smiling children; suddenly, war-torn villages, hellish ruins, fires, corpses; men, women, and children strewn in the street, some badly mutilated, headless. Such powerful stimuli yet had a minimal emotional effect upon the subject, for an inhibitory Microchip governed the firing of neurons in his brain. Where neurons fail to fire there cannot be conscious “thought”; where there is not conscious thought, there cannot be the retrieval of “memory”; and where no memory, no “emotion.” (See Lehrman, M., “Neurotransmitter Inhibitory Functions in the Subcortical Human Brain,” Neuroscience Quarterly, I: 3. [Another paper of which 90 percent was written by Dr. Lehrman’s post-docs, names grudgingly acknowledged in an obscure footnote.])

  Yet more ingeniously Microchip neurotransmitters were activated at a distance in the subject’s brain by (remote) electrical stimulation sending “voices” to the subject, with such auditory acuteness the subject could not but believe that they were in the room with him, and were actual; amid these, secondary “voices” could be sent to confirm, or contradict, or drown out the initial voices, leaving the hapless subject utterly baffled and catatonic. In one phase of the experiment the subject was made to hear voices in his original (Nigerian) language but with unusual inflections as if being uttered by computers, or foreign-born persons, which produced a particularly unnerving effect in the subject; in another phase, the subject was made to hear “Ganymede” speech—a computer-generated language with a scrambled syntax. At all times the voice of the Commandant could interrupt and redirect the subject. (This too was a computer-generated voice but its baritone timbre was soothing and “paternal.”)

  More recently developed has been a means of using the subject as a recording device without the subject’s awareness, in Maada’s case exchanges among Maada and some members of the S___ family, when Maada sat down to meals with them; these, in pidgin English or, presumably, Nigerian. No effort was made to translate these desultory conversations as they could have zero scientific interest.

  Other sounds sent to the subject at a distance were thunder, music, dreams, an eerie whispering “breath” of outer space meant to simulate the sound of winds on Ganymede; each drew a specific reaction from the subject, ranging from fear to sorrow to intense, infantile joy, and each w
as experienced without question.

  Electrical stimulations in the subject’s brain stirred appetite and nausea, sexual desire and sexual repugnance, simultaneously. Shown photographs of (presumably) sexually stimulating images, like naked, nubile women and girls, the subject did not react as he might have reacted normally, when neurotransmitters blocked his reflexive reactions; conversely, shown photographs of (presumably) asexual images the subject was stimulated to react sexually. (Of experiments performed upon him without his awareness this was perhaps the most distressing to the subject as Maada could not comprehend why he was beginning to have “sex desire” for such bizarre and inappropriate objects as clouds, towels, doorknobs, infants and toddlers. Even in his diminished state the subject retained a residue of human shame and conscience, and came to feel agitated about losing control of his “soul.”)

  It was presented as a test to Maada’s loyalty to his Ganymede stealth mission that he carry an explosive device strapped to his body, to be detonated by remote control at the direction of the Commandant. Of course, Maada did not question this mission though he was perceived to be “anxious” and “distracted” over it beforehand. Such detonations were planned when, for instance, the S___ family gathered for prayers, or when they and Maada were sitting together at a mealtime; when Maada was shopping in a 7-Eleven store, walking along a crowded street in Edison, or traveling with his fellow lawn crew workers in the rear of his employer’s truck. Each time Maada was directed by the Commandant to the point of (theoretical) detonation he became highly agitated, but only inwardly; his heartbeat accelerated, and his sweat glands oozed sweat. (Eventually, in a later phase of the experiment, the subject’s heart was adjoined to a fine-meshed mechanism that was immune to “accelerating.”) Yet Maada did not cry out a warning to the S___s for he had been programmed to value the Commandant over any merely human beings; he would not betray his Ganymede destiny, though his vision of the (mythical) homeland was almost entirely abstract: a rugged rock-terrain of pitiless sunshine and shadows so sharp they registered to the eye as crevices.

  In another, more controversial experimental mission the subject was directed to make his way on foot into a federal courthouse in Newark, passing through the metal detector and security checks without incident (since of course subject was not wired with actual explosives but only believed that he was). PROJECT observers stationed at the site noted that Maada did not behave suspiciously in this public setting but pressed forward with the eager-to-please manner of a visitor to the U.S. who is hoping one day to become a citizen. Here, too, the subject was convinced that he was a “stealth missile” to be detonated by a remote control.

  Even then, Maada retained some residue of dignity and conscience from his former life. He knew himself innocent of knowledge of who his enemies were, and why they, and he among them, were to be annihilated in a cataclysm of flames and rubble in this austere old government building. Federal Justice D___ was to be “executed”—but why? An enemy of—whom? Was the U.S. government involved in a stealth program to assassinate certain of its citizens, like Judge D___? So long as Maada was innocent of such knowledge and merely following the directives of the Commandant he was innocent of the acts he precipitated, and this appears to have been a solace to him.

  (It is said that the president of the United States is the “invisible man” on the PROJECT advisory board and of course, this adds considerably to the prestige and authority of the mission.)

  (Yet, it has been said that the president of the United States is excluded from Department of Defense policy on its highest plateau, for there may come a time when it is unavoidable that the president of the United States must be “executed” for reasons of “expediency.”)

  In the federal courthouse the subject was directed to be seated in Justice D___’s courtroom, which was half-filled with participants and spectators, to await the precise time for the detonation of what he perceived to be explosives attached to his body; then abruptly, after an anxious forty minutes, the subject was informed that the mission had been suspended for the time being, and that he was free to leave.

  In front of a vending machine on the ground floor of the courthouse Maada found himself trembling. So many choices!—soft drinks, candy bars, chips. He could not decide if he was hungry, or thirsty. In the euphoria of freedom he began to cry hot acid tears that ran in corrosive rivulets down his cheeks.

  AND THEN, MAADA BEGAN to misinterpret TNM signals. Willful neurons in the test subject firing in ways contrary to directives.

  That this was happening in test subject #293199 after months of subject’s cooperation was in itself a significant development. For no experiment is without valuable revelations!

  Of course, willfulness in the subject Maada was intermittent and inconsistent. Resisting programmed directives did not represent an altered pattern of behavior in #293199 for there was no (discernible) pattern to it.

  Subject began resisting PROJECT expectations in late winter/early spring 2016. In the heat of a premature summer working with Adolpho’s Lawn Care crew he was observed shivering violently while others complained of heat; subject perspired heavily, yet continued to shiver with (apparent) cold. When TNM activity was inoperative subject began to “hear” voices of a new and inexplicable sort. Though he could not have known of the microscopic stents in his brain, still less the cluster of strategically placed computer chips, or the artificial “scalp flap” beneath a patch of hair, he began to obsess that there were “things” in his brain—grains of sand, staple-sized bits of metal, lice that crawled and sucked his blood. He came to believe that his heart had been replaced by “a kind of clock that ticks.” His blood was no longer red but of the hue and substance of mucus. His skin, that had always been so rich and dark, was lightening in splotches, like a kind of cancer—from working in the sun? Yet, Maada could not not work for he needed the money to repay the S___ family for their generosity to him and also to send back to his family in Nigeria (though his family had become distant and blank to him like faded faces on a billboard and several messages from “voices” had called into question his actual blood-relationship to them). Maada diverted his most anxious thoughts by scratching and peeling his skin, which seemed to give him an intense, sensual pleasure; beneath were patches of sickly pale skin, both repugnant and fascinating.

  Even when no TNM activity was recorded, subject began to experience zapping sensations in his brain and through his body. Genitals were particularly sensitive, mutinous. “Sex desire” for inanimate objects like Styrofoam trash and gardening implements swept upon him at awkward times. He could not bear to touch that part of his body for such touch was forbidden yet his hands moved of their own greed and willfulness, and were shameful to him. In the S___ family there was little privacy, which was shameful to him. You smell funny, Saidu—one of the older children said, wrinkling her nose. It was terrifying to him, the S___ family would evict him from their apartment; a voice not (evidently) identifiable as that of the Commandant suggested that it might be wisest to slash the S___s’ throats in their beds, some night when all were sleeping peacefully; and then, to slash his own. Yet an instant later, Adolpho was shouting at him: Asshole! Wake up. Losing his ability to see himself in relationship to other, spatial beings. Much was becoming scrambled, dismembered, dissected. It was repellent to him, to observe his own body dissected by (white) strangers with hand saws and blood-stained surgical instruments. So vividly he saw these strangers, he registered their fastidious revulsion at the smell of his sawn-open torso—Jesus, what a stink!

  Had it already happened?—or, not yet? As if compressed on the head of a pin everything was prepared to detonate.

  When Adolpho came for them on a street corner in Edison in the twilit hour at dawn Maada had to summon his strength to climb into the truck with the others. Where once he’d been the youngest member of the lawn crew, now his youth had drained from him. His back was stricken with pain. All of the nerves of his back had been zapped. His brain felt swollen. His
left eye was fevered. He had slipped back in “time”—he had become his own ancestor, a slave. On the moon of Jupiter, slaves had revolted in open, deep, crevice-pits. It had been a slave uprising, that had brought him to Earth. Maada yearned to know more of his mysterious and forbidden origin but the words that would have brought him knowledge began to break and crumble like a column of ants when a booted foot descends upon them.

  Moving the massive lawn mower, plugs inserted in his ears. Yet hearing a babble and crackle of voices and laughter. Seeing figures which (though lifelike) he knew were not really there for they were transparent like jellyfish, you could see things through them.

  At the E___ estate working stooped in the sun. Digging in the sun. (White) woman with a pig face. Snout nose. Pig-eyes lewd and laughing. Pig-eyes dared to descend to the gnarl of misery at his groin.

  What issued from the pig-mouth was confusing to him for he had already obeyed the pig-mouth. He knew. He was sure. Yet he was not sure for perhaps it had not happened yet.

  Yet, it had happened. The Floradora rose was to be dug up another time and another time replanted.

  Dug up, and brought to the other bed, that is/was the first bed. It seemed to Maada that he had just done this. He had done this several times. The pig-woman had commanded him, and he had obeyed. Yet, it was possible that the several times he had obeyed the pig-woman were collapsed to a single time and that time like the head of a pin, too small to see. Was there just one rose bed, and one hole?—but more than one Floradora rose? Trying to comprehend this was like trying to push inside his head an object that was too big for the space and also sharp-angled. Subject began to experience rapid zaps in brain, groin, fingers. Began to scream, grunt, tear like a ravenous animal with his teeth.