As Above, So Below
Page 20
Burns: That were the second track taken from the David Aribuss album: Wave Train. Nice. We’ll have some more of that comin’ up later in the show. Right, answer to Mind Bender, after this:
Four minutes of music follows...
Burns: Elvis Presley and Jail House Rock. Okay, the Mind Bender: I presented you with this conundrum:
A prisoner serving a life sentence is given the opportunity to go free. He’s taken to two identical doors – identical, that is, except for the fact that one is blue where as t’other’s red. Also, the blue one’s a bit bigger; and red one’s got one of those lovely burnished oak effects you find on–
Loud cockney voice (taped): Burns, will you pipe down with that RUBBISH!!
Burns: Sorry, I didn’t mean to be confusing yous like. Let’s just say that there are two doors – blue one and red one. The prisoner is told that behind one door lies Liberty, bu’, behind other door lies Death. Ooo err. To help the prisoner decide which door to choose, he can draw on assistance of two guides. Bu’, one of these guides always tells lies, where as t’other always tells truth. Bu’, prisoner don’t know which is which. Are you still with me? I know this one’s a bit long. Anyway, soldiering on: the prisoner is told that he can ask one guide, one question – and one question only. So what is the one question the prisoner can ask either guide, that will allow him to ascertain, derive, conclude, infer and, err, deduce, with complete confidence, what fate awaits him behind blue and red doors?
I know it were hard, but some of you did get it right. Shelly from Bamber Bridge is the winner:
The prisoner asks either guide: “which is the door to freedom according to the other guide.” Then prisoner takes the door not indicated! Work it out!
Well done, Shelly, you’ve just won yourself a Radio Ribblehead mug.
Some more of David Aribuss now. This is: Many Worlds, Oceans Flow. Nice.
Five minutes of flaccid music follows...
Burns: Liz just texted to ask where I got today’s Mind Bender from. It were actually sent in by a warder at Preston Prison on Ribbleton Lane: he just read it out from prison rule book.
Burns starts to laugh. Six minutes of music and two minutes of commercials follow...
Burns: Now, there’s a young chap by the name of Geoff who’s rather poorly in hospital. I’ve got a message here from all your pals at the university. It simply says: ‘Get Well Soon.’ Same goes from me, Geoff. By the way, some of your friends are commin’ to visit you later, so that’ll be nice. Chin up, mate; this is for you, the last one from David Aribuss: Superposition Nights. Marvellous!
Five minutes of music follows...
‘Turn that crap off will you, love.’ Click...
They found him in the third of the three beds; only his grey and puffy head lay exposed above the covers.
The nurse had warned them not to be alarmed by Geoff’s appearance, but it still came as a shock. He looked terrible – he looked dead. Alex, Bridgett and Cube continued to scrutinize the sad lifeless figure in the bed; they had to remind themselves that Geoff no longer dwelt in a conventional coma, he was, in fact, wide-awake.
‘Hello Geoff,’ said Bridgett, giving him a kiss on his pallid cheek.
‘How are you doing, mate?’ asked Cube.
‘Hey Geoff, it’s Alex, sorry about the delay in coming, but–’
‘You seem to be making great progress, Geoff, the doctors are most impressed,’ said Bridgett, ‘they say you’ve come a long way in the last few days; since recovering from the–’
‘Yeah, next time we come, we’ll bring you some grapes,’ said Alex. ‘We brought some today, but Cube ate them all.’
Cube and Alex laughed self-consciously. Geoff remained unmoved, his prosaic expression revealed nothing.
‘Can you hear us, Ge–’
‘YES.’
The loud electronic voice sounded nothing like Geoff. Again, they had been told, but, again...
The voice had emerged from a confusing jumble of electronic equipment positioned on a rack at the end of Geoff’s bed. On the lowest shelf was an oscilloscope and paper recorder; these provided continuous readouts of Geoff’s brainwave patterns. This information then fed through to a computer on the second shelf. Here, the patterns were analyzed and compared with the computer’s own matrices for ‘yes’, and for ‘no’. After making a match, the computer relayed the information to the top shelf where a small loudspeaker broadcast the result.
The doctors had explained how it worked:
The success of the technique largely depended on Geoff’s concentration and on the clinician’s skill at asking the correct questions. Sometimes repeats would be necessary. If the computer found that an incoming signal met some of the necessary parameters, but not more than two-thirds, it would call out: “Please try again”. If the signal matched the matrix, but contained extra ‘add-ons’, the computer accepted the signal as positive.
If the computer made a mistake, Geoff had the ability to notify the questioner. As well as ‘yes’ and ‘no’, Geoff and the determined staff had developed a vocabulary that also included: ‘mistake’, ‘pain’, ‘end’ and ‘doctor!’ It had been painstaking work.
Nobody really knew Geoff’s prognosis. His overall physical condition remained weak but stable; he would probably survive for years – maybe five years. But none of the medical staff held out much hope for any further, dramatic improvement in Geoff’s condition. On the other hand, last week, no one would have placed money on Geoff emerging from his coma.
Only time would tell.
‘Whoa, you gave us a bit of a shock there,’ said Alex, ‘you sound different...’
‘Yeah, have you got a cold?’ asked Cube.
‘NO.’ Came the electronic voice, its brusque, harsh tone momentarily silencing the three.
‘How are you feel–’ Bridgett stopped: they’d already asked that question. ‘Are you in any discomfort?’
‘NO.’ boomed out, once again.
This was difficult; but then Cube came to the rescue. ‘Would you like to hear what’s been going on at college?’
‘YES.’
To Alex’s relief, Cube began to recount the interesting and not-so-interesting happenings that had taken place over the last two weeks. When the opportunity arose, he and Bridgett chipped in with amusing tales of their own.
After about fifteen minutes of this, the one-way conversation began to run dry. Alex leaned back and surreptitiously cast an eye over the room: there was one other patient, a middle-aged man who sat up in the middle bed watching the evening news on TV. He listened through headphones. The only other person in the ward, a nurse, sat at her desk at the far end of the ward, engrossed in her paperwork. When Bridgett began to relate some gossip about a friend of hers on Geoff’s course, Alex received a meaningful glance from Cube. It was time.
‘Bridgett,’ Alex quietly interrupted, ‘I’ve got to have a word with Geoff – in private.’
Bridgett nodded: ‘Come on, Cube, we’ll wait outside.’ Cube and Bridgett rose from their seats, said their goodbyes, and quietly departed the ward.
All was still. The silent TV flashed images of faraway strife...
‘Geoff, it’s Alex, I’m on my own now.’
‘YES.’
Alex moved close to Geoff’s ear and spoke in mute tones. ‘Geoff, last night...’ he hesitated, aware of how ridiculous the next question might sound: ‘last night ... did you talk to me – in my dream?’ He whispered the last bit and glanced at the nurse. She was watching him.
‘YES.’
‘Was the dream in Manchester?’
‘NO.’
‘Was the dream in London?’
‘NO.’
‘Was the dream in the Lake District?’
‘YES.’
Alex turned and glanced again at the suspicious nurse. ‘Do you want me to give Dai Evans the diaketamine?’
‘YES......YES......YES......YES......YES......YES......–’
&n
bsp; ‘What is going on there!?’
Alex turned around. The nurse had leapt from her seat and was racing towards Geoff’s bed. By the time she arrived, Geoff had fallen silent.
‘Are you okay, Geoff?’ she asked anxiously.
‘YES.’
‘Sorry nurse, I was just telling him a joke,’ explained Alex.
‘YES.’
‘Yes, well you shouldn’t get him too excited.’
‘No, sorry,’ he replied. And then to Geoff: ‘okay then, Geoff, I’m off now; I’ve got some important work to do.’
‘YES.’
Alex met up with Bridgett at the neurological department’s reception area and gave her a hug.
‘Well, we tried our best, that’s all we could do,’ Bridgett stated.
Alex nodded, ‘I’ve got to take a squirt.’
‘Alex! Don’t be crude.’
‘Sorry, where are the bogs?’
‘Down there.’
‘Well?’ asked Cube, when Alex arrived at the agreed rendezvous point.
‘He’s left the building,’ replied Alex.
‘Who has?’
‘Elvis, of course!’
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