At lunch, Uhlman asked Bobby, “So how do you like these games we’re playing so far?”
“Better today than yesterday, Doctor. More interesting, but a lot of it is pretty obvious stuff. I guess you just want to be sure I can read directions accurately.”
“Well, okay then. What’s something interesting that you did recently?”
“A few months ago, I devised a new table of logarithms using a base of twelve instead of the normal ten. I thought that was fun,” replied Bobby.
“You did that by yourself?”
“Yeah, I’ll show it to you later if you want.”
“Good, I’d like that. I never heard of anyone doing that,” said Uhlman. “Have you ever done anything with the binary system?”
“Sure. I worked 2 to the 80th power. I used my blackboard. When it would fill up, I’d erase it and keep the figures in my head and start filling up the board again.”
“How long did that take?” Uhlman asked.
“About an hour.”
When Uhlman called an early end to the third day’s events, Bobby jumped up and down like he was on a pogo stick. Peter and Edith picked him up at 2:30 and the Austin family headed off to see the sites of Rochester. Uhlman then corralled the senior members of his department for a strategy session.
“Here’s what I want to do now with the Austin boy. He hasn’t studied—and by that I mean taught himself—mathematics beyond advanced algebra and trigonometry. Jesus Christ, that sounds crazy, doesn’t it? Anyway, tomorrow, I want to see if he can somehow solve problems that require knowledge of calculus, number theory, combinatorics and set theory. I think it’s impossible, but I have to find out.”
One of Uhlman’s staff responded, “Doctor, it’s not possible—-that’s why those mathematical disciplines were invented. They’re the only way to solve those kind of problems.”
“Compile a test. I need 20 problems to give Austin tomorrow.”
The following day, Uhlman sat with Bobby and said, “Robert, I know you like challenging games so I have 20 of them here. They’re tough ones and you’ll have to use a lot of ingenuity to figure them out. I want you to take your time, don’t rush, and don’t get discouraged.” Uhlman passed the exam over to Bobby and then walked to the other side of the room and sat down to observe.
“Doctor, is there a blackboard I can use?”
Uhlman went into an adjoining room, found a blackboard, and wheeled it in to the room Bobby was in. He adjusted the legs so that the board was as low as it could go. Bobby stared at the page of questions. Uhlman walked over to Bobby and saw that the boy appeared to be transfixed, his eyes half closed. This trance like state continued for thirty minutes until Bobby grabbed the exam paper and walked over to the blackboard. He wrote #1 and underlined it. Then he began to quickly fill the board with numbers, diagrams and equations, none of which Uhlman could follow. To Uhlman, it all seemed disjointed and fragmented. Bobby worked at an intense pace. As the blackboard became too crowded with Bobby’s notations, Bobby would erase what he had scribbled, and he’d fill the board again. Finally, he triumphantly circled something on the blackboard, put a check mark next to it and then copied the circled item on to the test paper as the answer to problem #1.
This same process continued uninterrupted for three hours as Bobby gradually worked his way through the 20 problems. Uhlman had no idea what Bobby was doing and whether or not the test answers would be correct, but he was astounded by the process and by Bobby’s indefatigable energy level and ability to concentrate. Finally, Uhlman interrupted Bobby and said, “Let’s take a lunch break. You must be tired.”
“No Doctor, I’m not. And I really don’t want to break now. I’m in the middle of this.”
Four more hours went by. Bobby had filled and erased the blackboard fifty-five times. As Bobby worked, Uhlman photographed the notations on the blackboard each time before it was erased. Finally, Bobby wrote his answer to the last problem, number twenty, on the exam sheet and handed it to Uhlman.
“Here it is, Doctor. Now, those questions were really interesting. Is it too late to get something to eat?”
Uhlman tousled Bobby’s hair, and then picked him up in his big arms. Holding him as they walked, he said, “No it’s not too late, little fella. You’re quite a guy.”
Bobby’s face flushed. “What did you just call me? You called me a name. What was it?”
“I called you ‘little fella.’” Bobby’s brow furrowed and he fell silent for a few minutes.
As they headed to the building’s cafeteria, Uhlman gave the exam paper to his assistant. Bobby selected a grilled cheese sandwich, apple juice and cherry Jello with whipped cream. Uhlman poured his fifth cup of coffee for the day.
“So, Robert, why don’t you like to sleep?”
“I often have very bad dreams.”
“What kind of dreams?”
“Very scary dreams. They’re horrible.”
“What happens in these dreams?”
Bobby squirmed in his chair as he looked down at the floor. “I don’t remember them in detail, but often I’m being chased in the dark. Then I fall and I continue to fall endlessly. And there are terrible odors. And people are screaming. And horrible faces are up against me.” Uhlman noticed that Bobby was gripping his spoon so tightly that his knuckles were white.
“Oh, that’s all? I have dreams like that every night, Robert. Don’t let that bother you—-that’s nothing. I thought you had really bad dreams.” Uhlman laughed, and then Bobby did too.
As Uhlman was returning to his office with Bobby for Peter and Edith’s pick-up, he was intercepted by one of his department heads.
“John, can I see you for a moment alone, please?”
Uhlman turned to Bobby and said, “Robert, you know where to go—through that door and you’ll see your parents in my office. I’ll be right there.”
“What’s up, Bill?” asked Uhlman.
“The twenty questions on the exam. He got them all correct.”
“I want a meeting with full staff in one hour. Tell everyone it’s going to be a late night,” said Uhlman.
7
The next morning at 8:30, Uhlman called Orin Varneys.
“Orin, I think we’ve hit the mother lode,” Uhlman said.
“What do you mean?”
“The Austin boy. I’ve never seen anything like it. He makes the kids at the Institute look like they’re retarded. I don’t think there’s ever been someone like this.”
“This could be what we’ve been waiting for,” said Varneys.
“He’s not even five years old yet. All of his growth is ahead of him. There’s no telling what he’ll be capable of,” said Uhlman.
“What’s the kid’s IQ?”
“I had the whole department work on it for days and we used computer extrapolations, but it doesn’t get us anywhere. We can’t get any kind of accurate figure. There’s nothing to compare him to. So it’s just a guess. But if you have to have a number, I’d say a minimum—and I stress the word –minimum—of 550.”
“That’s impossible. The highest ever on record—and that was presumed exaggerated—was 300.”
“That’s what I’m telling you, we’re dealing with a first here,” replied Uhlman.
“Is there any downside that you can see?”
“He suffers from very intense recurrent nightmares. That’s unusual in a child of his age. I’ve also witnessed him withdraw into a prolonged semi-conscious state which could be indicative of a proclivity to reality detachment.”
“Nightmares. What’s he afraid of?” asked Varneys.
“It’s hard to pinpoint, but he exhibits paranoid characteristics. All in all, he may be in the early stages of psychosis or dementia. It’s way too early to tell. It depends on how he develops
. But a mind that powerful can not only create. It can also destroy.”
“Destroy what?” asked Varneys.
“Destroy himself,” replied Uhlman.
“When are you going to speak to the parents?”
“In about an hour. We have a meeting scheduled.”
“John, we can’t let this one get away. Make this happen.”
Right on schedule, Peter and Edith walked into Uhlman’s reception area at 10:00 Friday morning for their “summation” meeting with him. Ray McDermott was taking Bobby around town to explore Rochester. It had been a pleasant holiday for them, staying in the luxurious hotel suite, ordering room service, watching the latest movies on “pay per view,” and eating at the nicest restaurants in the city.
“Well, where should I begin?” said Uhlman, folding his large hands and leaning forward in his chair. My staff and I subjected Robert to a battery of examinations, which were beyond rigorous. I would say unprecedented. And let me say that Robert was patient, polite, cooperative and in excellent humor throughout the process. He’s a real trooper, your boy. A delightful child.”
“It’s lovely to hear you say that,” said Edith, beaming.
Uhlman leaned further forward and tapped his desk with his forefinger for emphasis as he spoke. “The results of the exams are nothing short of astounding. Robert is like the Grand Canyon; he’s one-of-a-kind. I don’t believe there has ever been anyone who possesses the magnitude of raw intelligence that Robert has.”
“How can that be?” asked Peter as he shook his head from side to side.
Uhlman sat back in his chair. “Frankly, we don’t know. There’s no plausible explanation for something like this. The more we study human intelligence, the more we realize how little we know.”
“Well, what does that mean in practical terms?” Peter asked.
Uhlman handed Peter and Edith a sheet of paper. “Here’s a list of some of the great geniuses in history and their actual tested IQs, or comparative-history determined IQs, based on Catharine Cox’ renown analysis. These are widely accepted in the scientific community as being accurate.” Edith and Peter read the names and the corresponding number:
William Sidis: 300
Johann Von Goethe: 225
Leonardo da Vinci: 225
Kim Ung-Yong: 210
Nathan Leopold: 210
Hypatia: 210
Christopher Langan: 210
Emanuel Swedenborg: 205
Gottfried Leibniz: 205
Francis Galton: 200
Michael Kearney: 200
John Stuart Mill: 200
Hugo Grotius: 200
Thomas Wolsey: 200
Michael Grost: 200
Isaac Newton: 190
Albert Einstein: 180
Uhlman continued, “Now, in comparison, Robert’s IQ is so high that we here at Mayo can’t accurately quantify it, and Drs. Draper, Knoll and Massey reached the same conclusion. And I have to tell you, if you’ll excuse the immodesty, that my staff and I are at the pinnacle of expertise in the field of intelligence measurement.”
“Do you have any idea?” asked Peter.
“We can only begin to estimate Robert’s minimum intelligence. This we put at 550-600, but I’m confident that this is inordinately minimized. Now in IQ terms, every fifteen points higher is a standard deviation off the mean, which means that a 200 or 300 point differential in IQ between Robert and the highest person on the list, William Siddis, represents not just twice, but a quantum leap in the intelligence level. A veritable different species altogether.”
“How could this happen? It just doesn’t make any sense,” Edith said.
“We don’t know. My guess would be some kind of genetic mutation. We’re running DNA analysis from a piece of Robert’s hair.”
Peter shifted uneasily in his chair and pulled at his pants. “Doctor—is this a good thing or is there a dark side here for our son?”
“That’s a very good question, Mr. Austin.”
“The good, of course, is that Robert enjoys his intellect, as you know. He has an insatiable thirst for knowledge and loves to be challenged mentally. His potential is unlimited,” Uhlman said.
“And the bad side?” Edith asked, sitting rigidly, her back straight and her hands pressed tightly together.
Uhlman intertwined the fingers of his massive hands in front of him as he looked squarely at Peter and Edith. “Well—there are a few things. So far, Robert has been sheltered from society. He hasn’t attended school and he hasn’t been exposed to the media. So he has been able to thrive in the private sequestered environment that you’ve created for him. That will come tumbling down the moment Robert steps foot in school. That will be the beginning of the pain and hurt for him. The isolation, the frustration, and the taunts.”
“What are you talking about? He’ll be the star in school.” Peter flicked his right hand as if to brush away Uhlman’s comment.
“That’s not how it works, Mr. Austin. There are hundreds of treatises written on the subject. Robert will suffer mightily in a normal academic and social environment.”
Peter’s face was now red and his voice had grown louder. “Let’s change gears here for a moment. Did you investigate what we originally went to Dr. Draper for in the first place? The nightmares and trances?”
“Yes I did. Let me give you some background. Children who have exceptional intelligence also have what are called “Overexcitability Factors”. These were first identified and classified by the famed Polish psychiatrist, Dr. Kasimierz Dabrowski, who recognized five dimensions in which gifted children showed greater than normal psychic intensity. He called these intensities, OE’s—which are heightened levels of awareness and sensitivity to various stimuli. The greater the intelligence level, the more pronounced the OE. This has been proven in countless case studies. Robert, being of extraordinary intelligence, is also prone to extraordinary levels of OE. Of the five types of OEs, the two that are most relevant to Robert’s nightmares and trances are the ones which Dabrowski designated as “Imaginational” which are characterized by inventiveness, the ability to visualize clearly, dreaming, daydreaming, fantasy and magical thinking; and “Emotional”—an intensity of feeling and susceptibility to depression, anxiety and loneliness.
I believe that these OEs explain Robert’s problems. However, the ramifications are uncertain. He’s too young. Only time can tell.”
“What do you mean?” Peter asked.
“I had several discussions with Robert about his dreams. They evidence strong paranoia and irrational fears. That, coupled with the trances, points to the possibility of early stage dementia or psychosis, perhaps even schizophrenia,” Uhlman said.
“Oh, my God. Not my baby. Not my beautiful boy,” said Edith, her eyes instantly welling up with tears and her hands clenched together.
Uhlman walked over to them, pulled over a chair and sat down close as he bent forward. “Don’t assume the worst. There’s an equally good chance that as Robert matures, he’ll outgrow these problems and cope very well. We just don’t know. But one thing I can tell you is that a negative environment will exacerbate the problems and cause Robert to withdraw more and more, maybe to the point of no return.”
“This is awfully dismal. What do you suggest?” Peter asked.
“I heartily recommend that you place Robert in a special program that we have developed for extraordinary children.”
“Who is ‘we’?” Peter asked.
“The Mayo Clinic under my guidance and the OSSIS, working in conjunction with MIT and Harvard University. I’m talking about a private educational facility, by invitation only from Director Varneys. It’s called the Institute For Advanced Intelligence Studies. All costs are fully covered. It’s an education and social environment tailor-made
for the most brilliant children in America.”
“Where is this school?” asked Edith.
“Newton, Massachusetts -- just outside of Boston. That gives the students easy access to MIT and Harvard, but at the same time gives them their own sixty acre private campus. It’s gorgeous. It’s the finest for the finest. Even the school food is delicious.”
“I wonder how Robert would do there?” asked Edith.
“Even there, he will stand-out prominently and dwarf all the other students. But the Institute’s as good as you can get. It’s the closest he’ll ever come to fitting in.”
Peter shifted in his chair, cocked a foot against the floor and glanced at the door. “Ok Doctor. Thank you for all of this. But we can’t make any snap decisions. And we’re also going to have to talk to Bobby.”
Uhlman’s voice was firm. “Think carefully about what I said—and do some research on the subject. I can promise you that no ordinary school—public or private-can handle Robert appropriately. And home schooling for a child of his resources is out of the question. Perhaps you should consult with Ms. Kimball.”
Miracle Man Page 5
