The Boy Who Would Rule the World

by Brian Toal

  "But, doesn't that happen when a person sleep walks?" Chris asked calmly, his face betraying no identifiable emotion at the doctor's words.

  "Yes, exactly. A person who is sleepwalking utilizes all those areas of their brain to navigate, and yet the conscious portion of their mind is not controlling their movement. Good!" He nodded at Chris, happy that the boy had understood so far.

  "In your case however, with these new axons present, which are like telephone lines within the brain, your conscious mind has been bypassed. You - the conscious portion of you - are existing in parallel with the construct of these new circuits.

  "But what does that mean?"

  “It means that, when you are asleep, vast portions of your brain are still linked together without you, the conscious being, aware of their activity. They can continue to interpret information and, irrespective of your input, make decisions.

  “Like a sleepwalker.”

  “No. A sleepwalker does not accomplish planned tasks. They may go into the kitchen and pour themselves a bowl of cereal, but they are unlikely to finish it before they go back to sleep or begin another, unrelated activity. This is because, when the average person goes to sleep, their decision manufacturing centres shut down. Yes, we dream and process information, but we don't actually decide on anything. When we wake up in the middle of the night because we have to go to the bathroom - we wake up. This is because it’s necessary for the conscious portion of our brain to decide what to do about the pressure in our bladder. Usually, we then decide to get up and pee. However, the way Chris’ brain is now constructed it is capable of manufacturing decisions and planning a coordinated series of activities, without his conscious input.”

  "You mean I could get up and go to the bathroom and not even know it?"

  "No you can't and I'll explain why later, but your brain is entirely capable of analysing sounds, coordinating your eye movement and interpreting incoming data, all without any conscious input from the real you. And more importantly, it will also process information independent of you, when you are awake."

  "When I’m awake?"

  "Yes. If we pretend these axons are just like telephone lines, it means that you, Chris, have been cut out of the circuit. Normally, we sort information we receive regarding its level of importance. For instance, we can remember exactly what the interior of our own house looks like. Intimately and totally. We notice right away if there has been a change, because we remember exactly where everything is and what it looks like. Our brain has decided this information is important. We also think we remember what the inside of our friends' houses look like - but we don't. We think we know what pictures are hanging on their walls or the pattern of the wallpaper in their bathroom or the colour of their rugs. But we don’t. We can't remember. Because at the time we looked around our friend's house, the area of our brain that classifies information regarding its importance, didn't think the data was important enough to store. Our brain decided it didn't care about the wallpaper in their bathroom, or the colour of the carpet in their downstairs rec-room. But in your case, these new axons bypass the area of your brain, where those decisions are made. Your optic centre is directly linked with the area that stores and distributes memories. Like a camcorder. The machine doesn't decide what is important. It just records everything. You say you have an Eidetic Memory. I’m not surprised that you do. I suspect you remember everything you see. Totally, without any input from you, regarding its importance."

  "Yes! I told you I had developed Eidetic Memory." Chris nodded vigorously. He turned to his mother. "See...he can figure out what’s wrong with me."

  Sharon nodded and patted his arm. "But this still doesn't explain what Chris did tonight. His ability to hurt me so badly and yet not even touch me..." Sharon trailed off, sliding her hand down Chris' arm to hold his hand reassuringly.

  "Yes..." Aaron steepled his fingers under his chin. "Besides what I’ve described there are other manifestations that could explain what happened tonight and at his school today. Remember I told you that we had also done an EEG on Chris, which is the short form for a rather long word, electroencephalogram. An EEG test allows us to determine which areas of the brain are more active than others, by recording the electrical activity in various areas of the brain." He sighed and again leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling as he recalled the EEG results. "There is an area of the brain called the Frontal Lobe - it is right here." He tapped his forehead. "We don't know a lot about it - we believe it is where we initiate behaviour and consequently is the root of our individual personality. Oddly enough, although it encompasses a fair percentage of our total brain mass, there is not normally much activity within it. In fact, some old texts used to call the Frontal Lobe, 'The Silent Area.' In Chris' case there are hundreds of these new axons entering this portion of his brain and they have done something to its function. Chris' Frontal Lobe is frying with energy." Aaron stopped, looking across his desk at the three of them. "Do you want me to continue? Is it making any sense to you?"

  "Yes, I do." Sharon replied. "I want to know everything I can about what is happening to Chris.

  Chris nodded his agreement. "I’ve read a bunch of books on the brain and I can understand almost everything you’re saying."

  "Okay. I'll make it quick, because you’ll probably draw the same conclusions as I have. As I mentioned, Chris' Frontal Lobe has been heavily invaded. Another area has been as well - the Medial Thalamus. This, again, is an area of the brain that is poorly understood. It is thought to regulate only the primitive emotions - surprise, alarm, vigilance and the readiness to act - the defence mechanisms. However, oddly enough - and I am very surprised about this, these new axons that I’ve been talking about have not infiltrated his Primary Motor Area - the area that controls almost all of his voluntary muscular activity. Whatever it is that has invaded his brain therefore has no control over his gross physical movements. Surprising really, when it has so heavily infiltrated the areas responsible for decision making, memory, optical coordination and the 'fight or flight' instincts." He paused and again leaned back in his chair as he summarized. "So...these new axons have rewired Chris' brain to function on - to use the Military term - Full Alert. He is constantly aware of his environment and consistently alert for danger or any perceived threat and at all times has the decision making capabilities to react - but, the new communication system in his brain has no control over his physical reactions. It would be like the Air Force building a new advanced radar system, but forgetting to install any method of calling the guys that man the missiles or fly the planes. These new communication links within his brain, for some reason, don't want or need him to react physically, instead they are directly linked with his Frontal Lobe. That mysterious area of the brain we have talked about before, and where I believe Chris' other skills may be rooted. Chris has been redesigned to react to threats in totally non-human way. Tonight when he was asleep, he must have felt threatened and sub-consciously - although that word is not correct, because there is a consciousness or awareness within Chris that is not part of him - he reacted in this new way he is developing."

  Aaron pushed himself forward so his forearms rested on his desk. "And that’s about it. I’ve never seen anything like this before and if these changes had occurred due to disease or parasite infection, I would suggest Chris would be dead. He obviously is not dead and providing there are no new developments it is unlikely these changes will directly affect his physical health. But...as to how these foreign axons have impregnated his brain and why they have restructured it this particular way...my guess is as good as yours." He stopped speaking and there was silence except for the chatter of nurses arriving for the day shift, passing by his door.

  "God!" Sharon expressed her feelings with one word.

  "But, I still don't understand, Dr. Murance." Chris' voice was full of exasperation. "Why can I do what I can do? You didn't explain."

  Aaron shrugged his shoulders. "I don't really know. Your sight ce
ntres are directly linked with one of the few areas of the brain we know very little about - The Frontal Lobe." He sighed, "The Silent Area - it was a good name, we still hardly know anything about it. It is physically too big to be responsible for just initiating behaviour, we know that, but we know little else, and now something unusual is occurring in yours. Possibly...just possibly, with some additional testing I may be able to determine what. But, I probably cannot even begin to determine how you accomplish what you do."

  "Well, that’s no good!" Chris replied indignantly, "I thought you were an expert on brains!"

  Aaron laughed in spite of the situation, "Yes, Chris, I thought I was. I truly did..."

  "What do we do now?" Sharon asked quietly.

  Aaron sighed, slouched in his chair. "I have got some tests lined up this morning. But it’s pretty rudimentary stuff. The MRI was the most telling. What we found with the MRI is an integral part of Chris' brain now - it’s there to stay. There is no way we can even contemplate removing these additional axons, they are intertwined among his own. They are essentially part of him."

  "So...?"

  "So...I make some further inquires. Possibly there is someone within my profession that has come across this development before."

  "I see..." Sharon replied without conviction. "What do we do in the meantime?"

  "I suggest we get some breakfast. Then we go downstairs and when the rest of my staff arrive we run the tests I’ve scheduled. There’s nothing more we can do at the present moment."

  Charlie stood beside the bundle on the abandoned test track on the far outskirts of Detroit. The asphalt surface was broken and cracked and the big board fences that, in years past, had provided the necessary secrecy when testing next year's cars, were warped and sagging on their supports.

  He had stood in the damp night air for five hours. Five long hours after Harry had brought the helicopter down to six feet, punching the load release lever as Charlie hurled himself out the side door. Less than twenty seconds later and the helicopter had clawed its way upwards leaving Charlie to guard their only possession.

  At the far end of the gigantic test area, with the sun rising behind it, a yellow Ryder rental-truck swung into view, moving rapidly down the overgrown surface towards him.

  Yes, they had to move quickly. The boy was aware of them now, but still too far away to contain. They had to get closer before he attempted to travel again.

  SIX - SIX

  They returned to Aaron's office after eating a meagre breakfast in the hospital's cafeteria. "Chris, would you wait out in my secretary's office." Aaron asked, "I’d like to speak privately with your mother and your aunt."

  Aaron waited until Chris had left his office and closed the door behind him. "I think our first job is to learn more about the particular pathways these new axons have created." He began, "I can do that here. From a complete mapping of their routing we may be able develop some theories regarding their function and what Chris may be capable of. But..." Aaron shook his head sadly "...there is no way we can even consider removing or altering them. I’m not certain any facility could."

  Beth nodded. "What’s your long-term outlook, Doctor?"

  "I don't believe I can make a long-term prognosis regarding the outcome of this manifestation." He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Look...I can't believe I’m going to say this but... there is no way these foreign axons occurred naturally. They’re far too exact in their placement, and their links with particular areas of Chris' brain. This indicates, at least to me, that these new pathways have been specifically generated and these new associations are providing Chris with abilities that are not part of any normal human development. To put it bluntly...Chris' brain has been altered by a technic far beyond any current medical capability." He leaned back in his chair and smiled weakly. "What do you think of that conclusion - from a neurological research associate of twelve years?"

  Sharon spoke slowly. "But, where does this leave Chris?"

  "Chris will have to be transferred to another facility. I don't know where, but I suspect some of my colleagues in other cities may know a safe place where Chris can be helped. Maybe there have been others with manifestations like his before. I’ve never read any reports on such developments, but it’s possible there have been others like Chris."

  Sharon nodded miserably. "I’m going to have my husband's firm contact Chris' father, they know where he is better than I. I think he’d want to fly back here today." Sharon drew a deep breath, releasing it in a hurtful sigh, "Doctor, do your best - Chris is a beautiful, kindly child and whatever is wrong with him is not his fault. Please try and remember that a month ago he was a normal little boy."

  Aaron had just started to reply when the glass shattered in the door frame behind him and across the far side of the secretary's office, Sharon could see Chris staring in at them. Sharon felt a blast of energy pass by her head and a large, framed picture, shattered on the wall behind her.

  "Mom I’m in trouble!" Chris screamed, turning away from them to stare into a corner. "It’s back! It’s here in Detroit. Things are happening to me! Get out of that room!"

  Sharon jumped to her feet to rush towards her son, just as her chair leapt up to smash into the ceiling, the aluminium armrests and leather back of the chair collapsing against the plaster, before it crashed back down on top of Dr. Murance's desk.

  "Mom!" Chris screamed, both of his hands pressed to his eyes.

  "I’m right here." Sharon yelled running towards him.

  Aaron and Beth both leapt out of their own seats as they realized their danger of being squashed against the ceiling above. Beth followed her sister towards the front office, as Aaron held back, struggling with the auto-injector wedged into the lining of his suit pocket.

  "Mom, I can't stop it." Chris moaned, pressing himself against his mother, his hands still screwed into his eyes. "Get me out of here, someplace I’ve never been, so I can't picture anything."

  Aaron ran into his secretary's office as the office behind him erupted into a maelstrom of destruction. Books, papers, pens - everything from the surface of his desk - flew through the room. Then the desk itself rolled onto its front with a crash, followed by the bookcase in the far corner. He had finally freed the long tube from his pocket and as he strode towards Chris, he pulled off the protective tip, exposing the needle.

  Beth stood between him and Chris, her back towards him, as he careened off the side of his secretary’s desk, the auto-injector held out before him.

  "Mom, get me out of here!" I’m seeing pictures of this room!" Chris screamed, his eyes tightly closed, as with one hand he felt for the door leading out into the hall.

  "Out of my way!" Dr. Murance commanded, shoving Beth aside, the needle pointed towards Chris' back."

  "What are you doing?" Beth yelled, as he pushed her away.

  "Get me out of here!" Chris found the doorknob with his left hand and flung the door open, ripping himself out of his mother's grasp, who stepped backwards into Dr. Murance, knocking aside his thrust towards the smooth muscle of Chris' lower back.

  "What are you doing?" Beth repeated, grabbing at Aaron's outstretched hand with the plastic tube.

  "It’s a sedative." He yelled, wrenching his hand away and trying to force his way past Beth.

  "Doctor!" Beth lunged for his arm again. "You can't sedate him, you said so yourself. He’ll kill us all! We have to..."

  Her sentence remained unfinished as the room exploded. The cheap secretary's desk erupting into lethal shards of metal and wood, a planter with a tall Eucalyptus plant lifted off the floor and then detonated, dirt, pieces of plant and pottery hitting all four walls.

  Aaron took two more steps towards the open doorway, when in his peripheral vison he spotted the entire wall rushing at him. He spun on his heel, raising both hands in front of him as the entire filing cabinet system flew across the room towards him. A full twenty feet long, by six high it bowled over everything in its path, including Aaron who screamed as it
smashed through his defences and pinned him against the wall.

  Two pieces of pottery from the exploding planter, slashed Beth as she threw herself back against the other wall. One piece tore through her forehead just above her right eye, sliding off the white of her skull as the other lodged in her right shoulder, two inches of brown pottery protruding from the muscle.

  Sharon escaped most of the lethal projectiles, as she had made it through the doorway, intent on chasing after Chris, who careened from one wall to the other in his blind haste to escape. But, a six-inch long sliver of glass zipped through the doorway after her, narrowly missing her face, but nicking her left earlobe as it flew by.

  "Chris! Stop!" Sharon screamed as she heard the destruction behind her and felt the quick tear of pain. "Stop, where’re you going?"