Keeping one hand and the gun carefully trained on Clyde, Jason punched a few numbers on the screen in the wall, directing it to call the police.
“We already have someone in route to your apartment,” the dispatcher assured him. “We received notification that secure bank files were trying to be accessed.”
It seemed like such a small, impersonal description of the hell that Jason had just been through. His life had nearly been taken, someone else’s mind had been damaged, probably beyond repair. And yet, the rest of the world went on, as per normal, unaware that two lives were ruined, that Jason would probably never be able to feel safe using the PSE again, a software that billions of other people used daily, unaware of the possibilities that could happen to them.
That was a discussion for another time, once the authorities had actually showed up.
“Yes,” Jason said quietly. “They were.”
Brain Donors
Erica Chambers clutched her husband’s hand and squeezed tight. “Are you sure about this?” she said.
Colin peered back at her, cool, calm, and collected. “We’ve waited for a month to get this procedure, Erica,” he reminded her. “And talked about it all week. We’ve read the studies, all our friends have already done it, and look how well my friend Joe is doing at work.”
“And Dana,” she reminded him as well as herself. “She’s already getting A’s in her Master’s classes and talking about getting her doctorate.”
He reached for her hand and Erica flinched just slightly. He smirked and took it anyway. “See, our daughter is smart. If we’d had the procedure done when everybody else did, we’d be smarter now, too.”
She forced a chuckle. “Well, she always was a quick learner.”
The clinic door opened and a nurse appeared, looking crisp and efficient. “Erica and Colin Chambers?” she asked, tapping at a sleek digital tablet before looking up and smiling at them.
Erica swallowed hard and rose, still clutching Colin’s hand. He squeezed it back barely before letting it drop away to her side. She knew why: the nurse was young and cute. She was closer to 50 as was he and he’d become sensitive about appearances for them both. Having a dowdy old wife like Erica, with her graying hair and wide hips, wasn’t exactly the way to impress someone in the medical profession.
“Welcome to Cyber-Gen,” the young woman said, holding the door open as they passed through. “I’m Crystal, and Mrs. Chambers, I’ll be your Implant Ambassador today.”
“What about me?” Colin whined, only half-jokingly.
Crystal nodded toward a handsome young man, clad in the same blue turtleneck and lab coat as she was. “Franklin will be assisting you today, Mr. Chambers.”
Struggling to hide his disappointment, Colin turned to join Franklin across the gleaming, sterile hallway. “Colin?” Erica asked, voice cracking slightly. He paused, peering back at her curiously. “Weren’t you going to say goodbye?”
He snorted. “It’s just a medical procedure, babe. You act like we’ll never see each other again!”
Chortling, he clapped Franklin on the back and disappeared around the corner. Her face blushing, Erica turned back to Crystal. “He acts like that when he’s nervous,” she said.
Crystal nodded, gently taking her elbow and leading her down the opposite hallway. “He’s half-right, anyway,” she said as an automatic door opened to an empty medical bay. Like the rest of the Cyber-Gen clinic, it was sleek and modern, with glowing dials and digital displays and spotless, all-white furniture.
“Which half?” Erica laughed as Crystal guided her into a soft white leather chair, kind of like the one in her dentist’s office.
“It is just a medical procedure,” she explained, sitting in a rolling chair and wheeling herself closer. “But you’re right, too.”
Erica snorted. It wasn’t often she heard those words at home. In fact she never heard them, especially from Colin. “Yeah? How so?”
Crystal slid a hand atop Erica’s, squeezing it conspiratorially. “You’re right to be concerned. Every medical procedure has risks, particularly something as sophisticated as the Neuralizer.”
Erica nodded, throat dry as she croaked, “Is it true it can help you access parts of the brain you never have before?”
Crystal nodded, applying a digital blood pressure cuff around her forearm. “We’re still collecting data in the wake of FDA approval,” she cautioned, “but some patients have experienced up to 80% neural access. Considering that before this unprecedented discovery humans only had access to 10% of their brain, you can see why it’s become so popular.”
Erica smiled thinly, still not sure she wanted to be quite that smart. “Have you…have you had it done?” she asked as Crystal performed a digital EKG.
The pretty young nurse winked. “As a Cyber-Gen employee I’m not at liberty to say exactly, but let’s just say that last week, I worked in the cafeteria!”
They shared a laugh, Erica’s anxiety bubbling over and flowing out with each chuckle or snort. “I just wanted to wait a little longer,” she explained as Crystal took her temperature with a strip on her forehead. “But Colin was chomping at the bit. He’s due for a promotion at work and is afraid two of his colleagues, who’ve already been Neuralized, will beat him out.”
Crystal nodded, tapping in the new data onto her tablet. When she was through, she slid it on a low, small table behind her and looked at Erica more closely. “Are you saying you’re not ready for the procedure, Erica?”
Erica thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No, I’m ready, I just…I was hoping to be more ready.”
“I can certainly reserve your dose,” Crystal assured her. “Although, the supply is limited…”
“No, no,” Erica said, sitting back into the long, contoured chair and gritting her teeth with resolve. “Colin will never forgive me if I don’t go through with it.” She could only imagine how he would react. The thought made her flinch, but Crystal didn’t notice.
“You might not forgive yourself,” Crystal said, bending to slide a restraint bar across her ankles.
Erica nodded, watching her repeat the same measures over her wrists. “What…what are those for?”
“I don’t want to alarm you,” Crystal said, sliding one last restraint over her forehead and securing her to the headrest of the chair. “But some patients experience strong tremors while being Neuralized.”
“How long do they last?”
“Not long,” Crystal said, opening a drawer in the sleek, white cabinet across from the chair. “And they’re not painful, but the body must be static once the Neuralizer has been administered.”
Erica saw the vial, the same one in the TV ads, on the billboards, in magazines, and plastered along the Medical Bay walls. It was a small tube, about the size of a pinky, filled with a pearly white liquid that glowed faintly as Crystal slid it into the chamber of a small atomizer shaped like a gun.
The tension Erica had been feeling all week boiled over, causing her to tense up. Knuckles white as they gripped the armrest of her chair, Crystal leaned closer and said, “It will be over very shortly, Erica. If you’d like, I can explain to you exactly what I’m going to do and how the Neuralizer works?”
“Will I understand any of it?”
“Most but not all,” Crystal confessed. “But here goes: I’ll inject the dose directly into your carotid artery—”
“Not the brain?” Erica wondered aloud.
Crystal shook her head. “The Neuralizer will reach the brain via the bloodstream,” she said, “giving it time to bond with your DNA.”
“That quickly?”
“It’s bonded to a super-accelerated coagulant,” Crystal said, beginning to lose her, “and will make contact with the cerebral cortex in seconds. At that time, it will fuse to various receptor sites on the caudate nucleus, long associated with memory, recall, and sensory learning.”
Crystal paused and Erica smiled, though what she’d said made little sense to her. �
�How does it work, though?” she prodded. “How does it take me from 10% brain capacity to a potential of 80%?”
“That’s largely proprietary information,” Crystal warned, “however, what I can tell you is that it amplifies the power of each cell in the brain. Does that make sense?”
Head strapped to the chair, Erica could only frown. Crystal nodded, patting her arm. “How about this: you know how when you see your friend across the mall food court, or someplace else that’s far away and noisy, and you want them to hear you, you’ll cup your hands around your mouth to throw your voice?”
Erica nodded.
Crystal gripped her arm reassuringly. “Now imagine every cell in your brain, doing that every time it sent a signal to the rest of your body. That’s how the Neuralizer works.”
She smiled, about to nod when she felt the faintest sting in her neck. Gasping, gently, quietly, she felt a blanket of peace wash over her. Crystal stood, walking across the room to pop the Neuralizer cartridge from the atomizer and toss it into a bin marked “Hazardous Materials”. Then she placed the “gun” itself in another container before taking off her gloves and washing her hands.
She returned to the side of Erica’s chair, rubbing her forearm gently and smiling down at her. “Feel okay so far?”
Erica tried to speak, but couldn’t. Crystal squeezed her arm reassuringly. “The Neuralizer takes a little time to coalesce,” she explained. “Like your brain physically rebooting. You may experience drowsiness, or temporary blindness, or slight paralysis. But I assure you, you’re here, you’re safe, and I won’t be far away. I just need to record your data, file some paperwork, and prepare your discharge, okay?”
Erica tried nodding but that, too, eluded her. Instead she sat, very still, as the world shrank and finally grew black.
********
“That won’t work.”
Colin paused, mid-text, and glared at her across the breakfast table. “What won’t work?”
She nodded at his cell phone. “You can’t meet with Phil Jensen at 3 today because you’ve got that client meeting across town at 2:15.”
She sat, sipping her coffee, though she hardly needed it. It had been four months since the first Neuralizer procedure, three weeks since the last, and since then she’d hardly slept more than four hours a night, but felt twice as energetic as she had in her twenties.
The coffee, she suddenly realized, was more out of habit than necessity. “How could you possibly know that?” Colin asked, still clinging to his cell phone.
“I heard you reminding Phil about the meeting last night.”
Colin shook his head. “No, I mean…how could you know what I was texting?”
Erica smirked. “I can see the reflection in your glasses, silly.”
Colin shook his head annoyed. “I’m glad the Neuralizer procedure worked for somebody.”
“Please,” Erica said. “You’re writing in extra big text and your glasses must be clean.”
Colin shook his head again. Turning the phone around, she could see that his text was average size, at best and his glasses were, in fact, smudged. She shrugged and said, “You still can’t make both meetings today.”
He shook his head, looking pale and wan. “You probably shouldn’t even go in today,” she added, noting his unhealthy pallor and the beads of sweat across his forehead. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
He waved a dismissive hand, cuff unbuttoned, dirt under his fingernails. “It’s one of the side effects of being Neuralized,” he said. “I checked it out on the internet. Some folks are even calling it the ‘brain bug’. Cute, huh?”
“What I’m looking at is definitely not cute, Colin,” she said, noting his untouched breakfast plate and half-empty cup of coffee. “Have you no appetite, either?”
He shook his head, standing on unsteady legs. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “The Cyber-Gen website said the side effects wear off after a few days.”
“Well, it’s been a few, Colin,” she said. “Maybe you want to swing by there and let them examine you. You didn’t act like this after the first few doses.”
He rolled his eyes, a common reaction to her advice in any form. Sliding his arms into his jacket, he reached for the front door. “Just you wait,” he said, before a round of coughs immobilized him in the doorway. “By the time I’m feeling better, I’ll be reading your texts with my eyes closed,” he snapped
She watched him leave, standing the minute he was gone to clean his plate, cup and saucer and wipe down his plate setting. She’d been feeling so good since being Neuralized, she didn’t want to catch whatever “brain bug” he was walking around with.
Once the house was quiet, she grabbed one of the new books she’d ordered online and, propped it open in one hand while she finished the housework, reading at a steady clip.
She’d never been much of a reader, but now? Look out! The title she was currently reading was Mysteries of the Mind: Studying the Brain’s Intricacies. Judging from the amount of pages left, she’d probably finish it by lunchtime. Last night she’d read the entire collection of letters by Winston Churchill – a fascinating man – and tonight she had the collected journals of Betsy Ross on tape.
Now that words were coming easier, and dates meant more than ever, she found science and history – two off-limits topics a week ago – to be downright fascinating.
She paused in her work, but not her reading – multitasking was another new experience for Erica – to tune the radio to the local classical station. While Brahms serenaded her, she set about cleaning the bedroom, gasping at the sight of blood on Colin’s pillow.
She put down her book and studied it more closely. It was rust colored, a sure sign it had dried overnight. She knew he slept on his left side, which corresponded with the injection site of the Neuralizer procedure. As if to check, her fingertips caressed the site of her own injection, finding the pinprick little more than a faded speck on her otherwise unblemished skin.
She picked up the pillow, examining the blood closer. The stain was not large but, tugging the case off, she saw that it had seeped deeper into the pillow. Here the stain was wider, deeper, still damp, making her belly flutter with concern.
She heard water dripping, something she might not have noticed before but now, her senses revived from the recent Neuralizer procedure, everything seemed fresh, new and loud to her. She drifted into the shower, shocked to see more blood, both around the damp, rusty drain and also on the pristine white bath mat just outside the stall.
She grabbed it, along with the pillow, and drifted downstairs to run the wash. There she saw more blood; on Colin’s boxer shorts and sleep T-shirt, on that morning’s towel, still damp and lying on top of the hamper.
Panicked, she dropped the laundry and retreated back to the shower, preparing for the long day ahead.
********
Erica steered through the deserted parking lot, heart pounding with fear. Where only three weeks earlier the Cyber-Gen building had been a bustling beehive of activity and they’d had to search high and low for an empty spot, now the parking lot was empty.
From the looks of it, so was the building itself. She parked right out front, in a handicapped spot and left it running, not even sure why. She got out and stood on trembling legs. An eerie stillness filled the air, the modern Cyber-Gen building with all its steel and glass, hard edges and smooth angles standing silent and, for all intents and purposes, empty.
She crept up the long walkway leading to the reception doors and found them locked tight, a hastily printed notice taped to the inside reading:
WARNING: Restricted Area
Cyber-Gen is closed until further notice. Please exit the area for your own safety. Patients who’ve had the Neuralizer procedure in the last 30 days, please visit our website immediately to register for immediate relocation status!
Signed,
Cyber-Gen Mgmt.
Erica felt her stomach drop as she tugged on the locked doors despite the urgent
warning. They clattered, glass and brass, but didn’t budge. She turned, pacing frantically on the concrete landing outside the floor to ceiling glass surrounding the reception area.
Sliding out her phone, she called up the Cyber-Gen website only to find the same warning reprinted on the site’s home page, word for word. None of the old links worked; not “About Us,” not “Contact Us” and there was nowhere to check for the relocation information.
She stifled a whimper, panic overtaking her as she paused mid-step at a foreign sound. It was at once familiar and uncertain. Putting her foot down, she stood stock still, until she heard it again: groaning.
Erica peered around, looking left and right. The grounds of the sprawling Cyber-Gen campus were silent and still, not a speck, a shadow or a shape in sight.
So who is groaning, she wondered. And where was it—
A sudden pounding rattled the glass doors beside her, causing Erica to stumble a step or two away in retreat. Heart pounding, chest heaving, belly clenched, she turned to see a haggard shape, hair greasy and matted, face grey and mottled, hunched slightly and pounding the glass.
She raised a hand to cover her mouth, either to choke a scream or protect herself, Erica wasn’t sure which. The glass doors trembled and shook, but held, allowing her to peer closer at the shuffling lab tech inside.
He looked vaguely familiar, on the younger side, once handsome, perhaps, before something took hold of him and changed his skin to the color of old, soapy dishwasher. His eyes, wide and frenzied, glowed an unhealthy green and peered at Erica as if she was either his salvation – or his supper.
The look on his face, once confused, grew angry with each passing minute he remained on one side of the glass, and she on the other. She studied the rest of him: bloody sneakers, wrinkled slacks, a torn dress shirt and crooked tie beneath a bloody Cyber-Gen lab coat. A nametag hung crookedly, over one pocket. She inched closer to read it: Franklin.
Franklin! The lab tech who Neuralized her husband. But that young man had been handsome, clean, smiling, efficient, professional – and not grey with glowing green eyes!
Descendants Page 8
