by Amy Cross
Jerry
Once I've got her body down to the basement and laid out on the operating table, I start to wonder whether killing Nurse Perry like this is a good move. After all, I could use anyone's body, but hers is the most convenient. I guess I'm probably worrying too much. For one thing, she might not even die, not if everything goes well. For another, she's already died so many times, she's living on borrowed time. She was one of the subjects of Dr. Langheim's early experiments, which gave her remarkable regenerative abilities. No matter how much punishment she takes, she manages to heal quickly, and these regenerative qualities might be useful for the project. So she's the one who must be used, even if I'll miss her once she's gone.
So far, the experiments have all used random bodies. Tonight, though, is different. Tonight, I'll be removing Nurse Perry's brain and replacing it with my mother's. In theory, this should allow my mother to live again, even if only for a few minutes. She'll be able to speak to me using Nurse Perry's mouth, to look at me and see me, her son, all grown up. There were times when I thought perhaps I could perform my final experiment on Nurse Winter instead, or perhaps on one of the patients, but deep down I've always known it would have to be Nurse Perry. She has the innocent-looking face that tells me she's perfect for my plans. I don't want my mother speaking to me through Nurse Winter's body; even the thought of such a travesty makes me feel nauseous. No, Nurse Perry has the right combination of innocence and beauty that makes her body perfect for my mother.
I pause, realizing that perhaps I'm over-thinking things and getting too sentimental. While she's still sedated, I shave Nurse Perry's head and then I use the bone-cutter to carefully slice off the top of her skull. Pulling it away, I finally see her brain. Checking the machines, I see that she still has a heartbeat, which is vital; I need her to stay alive, at least for a few minutes. I take a deep breath, aware of the enormity of what I'm doing. I'm taking the life of one person, and placing it in the body of another. Even if the experiment only lasts for a few minutes, it'll be worth it. I've been waiting for this night my whole life. As a child, I used to imagine what I'd say to my mother if I ever got the chance. I've rehearsed such a conversation over and over again. Now, finally, I'm about to speak to her for the first and only time.
Walking over to the tanks on the other side of the room, I glance at Julia's brain. All these years of looking after it, and now I'm finally on the verge of speaking to her. Realizing I have to focus and avoid emotion, I grab a cortex extender and carry it over to Nurse Perry's body. To be honest, I feel as if I'm delaying the moment of truth, because I know that there's a serious danger it could all go wrong. Taking a deep breath, I realize there's no point waiting, so I gently ease Nurse Perry's brain out of her body, pulling hard to sever the spinal column. I quickly attach the cortex extender to the underside before carrying the brain over to an empty tank and carefully submerging it. The cortex extender locks in at the bottom, and I put the lid on top of the container. Checking the output systems, I see that her vital signs are acceptable. She's survived the transplant, and now she's being kept alive by a series of pumps that have taken over the functions of her heart and other key organs. I can't imagine what she's dreaming about, but hopefully she's not in any pain.
"Sorry," I whisper under my breath.
Turning to Julia's brain, I open the top of her container and get ready to extract her brain. This is it. This is the moment. Reaching in, I take the brain in my hands and lift it out, carrying it quickly over to Nurse Perry's body. I remove the lower part of the cortex extender, leaving just the transponder ring, before carefully slipping the brain into Nurse Perry's skull. I grab a clamp and use it to secure the brain in place, and then I stand back. My work is done. All I can do now is wait and hope that the connection holds. It's a long-shot, but the science is bulletproof and I've tried similar experiments before. There's no reason for it not to work, yet I can't help feeling that it's all going to fall apart. All these years, waiting to bring my mother back to life so that I can finally speak to her, and the next few moments are going to decide whether my work is successful or not.
"Are you there?" I say eventually, immediately feeling stupid. Damn it, I'm glad no-one can see me right now, standing in the basement and talking to some kind of patched-together creature. I guess I'm turning into Dr. Frankenstein here. Maybe I'm insane; maybe I'm just dreaming of plugging one part of one person into part of another, as part of some childish fantasy. My mother died many years ago, and now I expect to bring her back to life in such a simplistic way? I'm an idiot. I'm a real fool. How could I have ever believed this would work? All those years when my mother's brain was floating in that jar, I fooled myself into believing that somehow I could bring her back. I just wanted to be able to speak to her, just for a few minutes, but even that dream is clearly gone.
"Where -" she says suddenly.
I stare at her. It's Nurse Perry's body, but my mother's brain is in her skull; Nurse Perry's skin and face, but the mind belongs to my mother. After all those years of watching my mother's brain floating in the jar, finally she's able to talk to me again. "Mom?" I ask. I've been waiting to speak to her all my life, but I spent so long working on the science that I never thought to work out what I'd say.
There's silence in the room for a moment.
"What?" she asks.
"Hi," I say. I'm almost trembling. Is she actually speaking to me, or is she just repeating old conversations? My research suggested that there was a danger she might be stuck in a kind of mental loop.
"Something's wrong," she continues. "I can't see." Her eyes are staring up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. Clearly her brain hasn't fully connected with her nervous system yet. Perhaps it never will, but this experiment was never about bringing my mother back to life forever; I just wanted to be able to talk to her for a few minutes.
"I'm sorry," I say.
"You're killing me, aren't you?" she says. "Admit it. You're killing me." She pauses for a moment. "What?" she adds finally, as if she's talking to someone else.
"It's me," I say, stepping closer. "Mom, it's me. Can you hear me?"
"What?" she says.
"It's me," I continue, with tears in my eyes. "It's Jerry. Jeremiah. Your son. Do you remember?"
"Where am I?" she asks, her voice sounding blank.
"You're..." I pause. How do I explain this to her? "Are you okay?" I ask eventually. I need to get her to focus, to make her realize she's alive again.
"I was so cold," she says. "Why was I cold?"
"I had no choice," I say. "It's me, Mom. It's Jerry."
"Where is everyone?" she asks. "Where are all the people?"
"What people?" I say. "Mom, it's me. Do you remember? It's me, Jerry... Your son. Do you remember me? I was very young when you..." I pause for a moment. "Do you remember?"
"Remember what?" she asks. "What's wrong with me?"
"It's me," I say.
"Who?"
"Are you in pain?" I ask.
The room falls silent.
"Mom?" I say eventually. This is crazy. The cortex extender is working, which means her brain is hooked up to Nurse Perry's body, and my mother seems to be speaking to me. But the things she's saying don't really make sense. It's possibly the case that Nurse Perry's regenerative abilities mean that the cortex extender is constantly repairing itself as the connection degrades, which means my mother will hang on for longer than I'd anticipated. But I need to get through to her, to speak to her properly and make her realize who I am. Sure, it's pathetic, but it's something I've been working on for so long...
"Who are you?" she asks suddenly.
"It's me," I say. "It's Jerry."
"Who's Jerry?"
"Your son," I reply. Damn it, maybe she didn't even know my name before she died? This is dumb. Sure, the science is astounding and opens up real possibilities, but the idea of talking to my mother in this way is just a bust. I sigh, realizing that the best thing to do would be to just disconnect the b
rain. Then again, doing that would effectively mean that I'd be killing my own mother. I hadn't thought about that possibility before, and now I find myself wondering if I can do it. Separating the brain from the body a second time would almost certainly be too traumatic. I've tried it before with other subjects, and it can't be done properly. This is my one and only chance.
"Do I have a son?" she asks.
"Mom, this is our only chance to talk," I say. "This is it. Try to understand. You've been, or near enough, for a long time. When I disconnect you, it's over. Can't you try to see understand what's happening here?"
"I was having a bath," she says. "Am I still having a bath?"
"No," I say. Most of the patients are given a bath before they undergo an operation. I guess she's remembering things that happened to her shortly before her brain was removed; maybe the final hours of her life have been lost, as if her brain didn't have time to form proper memories before it was severed from her body? In that case, it's impossible to tell what kind of other damage might have been caused. "Mom, do you remember giving birth to me?"
"Of course I do," she says, sounding annoyed. "You're my son. Do you really think I could forget you?"
I sigh. "You don't mean it," I say quietly. She's not complete. Clearly, the experiment has only worked partially. She's able to use the body, but she doesn't seem to be able to generate her own new thoughts. It's as if she's cycling through previous thoughts and ideas. After all those years with her brain stuck in the jar, she must have lost the ability to think spontaneously. Maybe if I kept her alive for an extended period of time, there'd be a chance to help her, but I'm not sure that's going to be possible. This is very much a limited experiment.
"Mom," I say, kneeling next to the body. "It's Jerry. I just wanted you to know that although we never met properly, I never stopped thinking about you. I always wished we could have been close, and..." I pause for a moment. The truth is, the people I work for these days at Lakehurst are the same people who did this to my mother in the first place. I've betrayed my mother, but I had no choice. I don't understand the real world, the world beyond the walls of Lakehurst. "I just wanted you to know that I love you," I say eventually. "Even if you don't understand what I'm saying, I wanted you to know."
"I was having a bath," she says. "Am I still having a bath?"
"No," I say, standing up and walking around to look at her exposed brain. "You're not." I ease the brain out of the skull. I could try to keep it alive, but I suspect that would be a forlorn hope. Rather than trying such a desperate move, I should probably just accept that she's finally gone. The longer I stand here holding the brain, the worse she'll get. Within a minute or two, her mind will be dead and the condition will be irreversible, so I stand in the lab, staring at the brain, imagining her synapses dying. Somewhere deep within the tissue, the electrical energy of my mother's thoughts is collapsing. This is the end. My mother is dying again, but this time it's permanent.
After a few minutes, I realize it must be over.
Grabbing a medical waste bag from the counter, I carefully put the brain inside and carry it through to the incinerator in the next room. The fire is already burning, so I throw the brain inside and watch as it burns. Perhaps my mother's consciousness is still in there somewhere, or perhaps it was never really there to begin with. Either way, it's all over now, and I head back through to Nurse Perry's body. Removing her brain from the tank, I'm about to attach it to a cortex extender when I realize that I can probably just replace it in her skull and wait for her healing abilities to take over. I guess she'll probably survive this procedure after all.
Once her brain has been replaced, I put the patch of skin and bone back in place to cover it up. It'll likely be some time before she's back on her feet at all, so I decide to go and check the machines in the main lab. It's strange, but as I leave the room. I'm overcome with sorrow at the thought that finally my mother has died. I kept her brain alive for so long, hoping to be able to finally talk to her. That moment has now been and gone, so what am I living for now? All these years, the whole point of my life has been leading toward this achievement. I need to find some other purpose now, some other reason to keep working. There's nothing here at Lakehurst, though, so maybe it's time to finally make a break for it. As I reach the next room, I pause for a moment and make a decision. My mother was imprisoned at Lakehurst, so the best way for me to honor her memory would be for me to leave, to get out of here and go far, far away. I can take some of the technology from Lakehurst and sell it in New York. I'll make millions, and finally this cursed place will bring some good to the world.
Kieran Evans
Sitting in my car, I open my briefcase and pull out the small receiver I brought with me. Switching it on, I immediately pick up the signal from EMB-57. There's no doubt that the broadcast is coming from Lakehurst, which raises various questions. Why would a psychiatric hospital be broadcasting radio signals that contain human brainwaves? And why would such an experiment be kept a closely guarded secret? Whatever's going on here, the people of Lakehurst are determined to keep outsiders - such as myself - away from the truth. My research so far indicates that Lakehurst has been successfully hiding itself away from scrutiny for many years, but at some point the truth has to come out. It might as well be now...
I close up my briefcase, start the car and back out of the driveway, before turning and heading along the road that leads away from the main building. Whatever's going on at Lakehurst, I know I can't deal with it alone. Rather than bursting in and trying to be a hero, the best option would be to notify the authorities, including some friends I have in high places. If it all goes well, we can have an investigative unit out here within a couple of days. They'll go through the place forensically, examining every room and checking to see what's really happening. Perhaps I'm wrong and Lakehurst is perfectly innocent, but I'd be willing to bet serious money that there are some dark secrets in there. Hopefully Annie and the other patients can be freed from Lakehurst's malign influence, because judging from Annie's appearance it certainly seems as if the treatment she's receiving here is detrimental to her health.
As soon as I've driven a few hundred meters from the building, I hear a strange grinding noise coming from the car's engine. Moments later, there's smoke coming from under the bonnet, and I pull over to the side of the road. Getting out, I pop the hood and immediately see that there's a small oil fire. I grab a fire extinguisher from the boot and soon the fire's out, but the engine looks to be pretty wrecked. I'm not much of an engineer, but I find it highly suspicious that such a fault would suddenly develop without some kind of interference. Sighing, I realize someone has sabotaged my vehicle to stop me from leaving.
Pulling out my mobile phone, I see that I haven't got any signal out here. We're so far from anywhere, it doesn't seem that there's any point trying to walk to find help, which leaves me with just one option. With night starting to close in, I look back along the road at Lakehurst and realize that I've got no option but to head back there and ask for a lift to the nearest town. There's a danger that I'm walking straight into a trap, but maybe I can turn this situation to my advantage.
"Hello," says a voice nearby.
I turn to see a young girl, maybe late teens or early twenties, standing by the side of the road. She's wearing a long white gown, and it takes me a moment to realize that I recognize her. She was in the recreation room earlier; she was the girl sitting at the window, who looked at me for a moment before Nurse Winter turned up.
"Hi," I say. "Are you okay?"
She nods. "I'm leaving," she says.
"Leaving?" I look back at Lakehurst. "Are you a patient?"
"I was," she replies. "Not any more."
I pause for a moment. There's something strange about this girl, as if she's not quite right in the head. I step over to her, hoping to get a better idea of who she is and what she's really doing out here. "Have you been released?" I ask.
She nods.
"Just..
. let go?" I stare at her. "They just let you walk out the front door?"
She shrugs.
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Amanda."
"How long have you been at Lakehurst?" I say as I get closer and see that her skin is pale white. She looks a little like Annie, but not quite as sick.
She frowns. "I don't know," she says eventually. "Quite a while. But I'm going home today. I'm getting picked up at the end of the road." She points into the distance, almost like a child who's being picked up after school.
"Uh-huh," I say. Something about this feels wrong. Would Lakehurst really just let one of their patients go like this, allowing her to wander away to meet someone out of sight? "Do you know Annie Radford?" I ask.
She nods.
"Do you know what they've done to her?"
She shakes her head.
"Do you know what they did to you?"
She pauses. "They gave me pills," she says carefully, as if she's struggling to remember, "Green pills and red pills and blue pills and... and they gave me special treatment in the basement, and then they made me wait, and then they let me go."
"Special treatment?" I ask. "What's that?"
"It's bright," she says. "It's the brightest thing you've ever seen. It's just like someone puts a light inside your head and makes it shine." She smiles. "I hope you don't think I'm rude, but I have to get going. I'm getting picked up."
"Sure," I say. "Good luck."
"Thanks," she says, turning to walk away.
"Wait!" I say, suddenly realizing she can help me. I take my wallet out and pull out Judge Collard's business card. Finding a pen in my pocket, I quickly jot down my name on the back, along with some details about Lakehurst. "Can you do me a favor?" I ask Amanda, handing her the card. "If you get a chance, can you find a way to get this card to the man whose name is on the front? His address is there, and his phone number. Just tell him you met me. He's sympathetic. He'll know what to do."
