Tier Trilogy: Books 1-3
Page 31
“Today should be completely relaxing. I know you have had reversal before. This time, we will actually be stimulating the brain in a different way, so you won’t be able to remain awake during the procedure. Did Tamara explain all of that?”
“Yes,” she nods.
Tamara smiles and helps her get strapped in while I connect her port. Once she is comfortable, I twist the nozzle and begin the drip. She closes her eyes and is out within seconds. I initiate the scanner and adjust the drip, adding the orexin blocker. As opposed to traditional reversal, this will transition the patient to REM sleep and I should be able to adjust the dose until I see a brain map that matches with her initial scan.
Within minutes, Sarah’s brain is lighting up. I adjust the amount slightly until I am satisfied with the image. Keeping the blocker constant, I place the reversal electrodes and begin the therapy. Sarah would like to remove an upsetting event that occurred with her father a few months ago. I don’t love knowing the details, so I simply follow the brain map I’ve been given. Carefully, I treat each synaptic cluster, moving methodically through the targets. Barely getting into a rhythm, I finish the last section. Quick and easy. Stopping the drip, I wait.
As the patient begins to wake, Tamara soothes her and helps her move to a rolling, reclining chair. She will need to remain here for at least an hour before she can be cleared to go home. We have a recovery room assigned and a nurse should be arriving to help with transport, giving me ten minutes to prep for the next patient.
Dabbing rubbing alcohol on a cotton pad, I wipe the equipment down, prepping new ports and disposing of the old ones. Surprisingly, nobody has opened the door yet, so I figure I will try to find the Tier 3 numbers I promised Bentley. Typing my login into the main database, I search. Immediately, I am met with a plethora of charts. I scroll through each one, looking for recent data. After a few minutes, I am flummoxed. Each chart is listed as being from a distinct year, but the numbers, as Bentley noticed, look almost identical. Even the Tier 2 numbers don’t change much when compared over a ten year period. I am well aware that random variations are out of our control, but with programs that have been instituted to decrease unauthorized Tier 2 pregnancies, those numbers absolutely should be going down. Am I somehow missing a variable that needs to be accounted for?
My next patient is escorted in, interrupting my thoughts. We begin the process over again, inducing the dream state. Though I am more comfortable, this one takes slightly longer—her reversal request stems from a childhood event, so I have to be much more investigative with my localization. To stay on-time, I help prep the next patient and Tamara and I work side-by-side for much of the day, not giving any extra time to continue my Tier 3 research.
Eventually, we finish with our last patient. I am exhausted, and I know Tamara must feel the same way. Thanking her, I encourage her to head home, offering to take care of the cleaning myself.
Halfway through sanitizing my last piece of equipment, the door opens and a woman I don’t recognize pokes her head in.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
“Oh, no. I was just looking for Tamara,” she says, exiting hastily. I drop my cloth and move quickly to the door, swinging it open.
“Tamara actually left for the day,” I call after her. She stops, turning back toward me, looking anxious. “Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Well...I don’t want to bother you,” she shakes her head, waving me off.
“I insist,” I say. “No bother, how can I help.”
“We used more of the orexin blocker than we anticipated today. I submitted the request for more, but it won’t be delivered in time for our trials tomorrow. I was hoping Tamara would be available to go to the medical facility to retrieve the bottles, but...it’s ok, I can do it,” she concludes, turning to go.
“I would be happy to get them if it would help,” I offer and she turns, surprised.
“You’ve been here all day—are you sure?” she asks doubtfully.
“It’s no problem. I assume it’s the one down south? If so, I can take a short nap on the way.”
“That would be fantastic,” she says gratefully. “I was really hoping to be home for dinner tonight. I will forward you the order information. Thanks again.”
“Happy to help,” I assure her, smiling. Having been home so frequently lately, I know Kate won’t mind if I am late. I quickly send her a message before returning to finish the sanitization. My sensor notifies me of the order and address right as I am returning the cleaning supplies to their cabinet. Luckily, I have a car today.
After a brief nap, I stretch, feeling much more normal, and pull a snack bar out of my bag. This should hold me until I get home for dinner. Kate mentioned that she is making chicken and roasted vegetables tonight. I sit up straight, realization dawning on me. Tonight. It’s the night of our gardening assignment. I check my sensor—nothing from her yet. I sigh, feeling deflated. This was definitely not the best night to be late. Nothing I can do about it now.
I check the navigation and it shows another ten minutes to go. Making it home before bedtime will not be a realistic option. Something on the map catches my eye, and I glance back.
‘Tier 3 distribution center’ is marked, sitting just west of my destination. I inhale deeply, resting my back against the seat. If I’m late anyway, would an extra twenty minutes really hurt anything?
As soon as I buzz in at the medical facility, I find our package sitting there waiting for me, ready to go. This errand has humbled me slightly. I didn’t realize how much the staff was doing behind the scenes to ensure the success of these trials. I know it’s their service assignment, but somehow it feels personal, and I need to be better about showing appreciation for their efforts.
Returning to the car, my heart starts to race. Am I really going to do this? I don’t break rules. Is this breaking a rule? Am I not supposed to randomly visit a distribution center? At night? I laugh. Pretty sure that would be way beyond protocol for someone—especially from Tier 1–to show up unannounced. I wrack my brain, trying to think of a logical reason I could stop in. They all seem flimsy, but it really doesn’t matter. I know what I need to do, and I feel compelled to do it. I tap on the facility and set the destination.
The ride isn’t long, only a small detour off of the main road. Since the sun hasn’t set yet, this stop is thankfully less creepy than it could have been. The car pulls to a stop and I glance around, not noticing any signs of life. No cars, no bikes, nobody. This in and of itself isn’t concerning...but the broken window is.
I slowly approach the dark building. The back door hangs open, twisted on its hinges. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and I breathe slowly, trying to calm my nerves. Turning my sensor flashlight on, I peer into the blackness.
There’s nothing. It’s completely bare, every surface covered with a thick layer of dirt. There are vines growing along the floor and draping along the walls. This building hasn’t been used in some time. I hastily exit, turning off my light, and quickly get back into the car.
57 Nick
It’s dark when I get home—later than I anticipated—after dropping the meds back at the lab. Kate didn’t ever message me back, so I don’t know exactly what I’m walking into. Everything is quiet inside the house, and I am a little jumpy, my nerves still heightened from earlier. There are two place settings at the table and a ceramic dish on the stove. Not finding Kate, I walk to the bedroom to change my clothes, realizing I still need to treat my pants from this morning as I pass the sink. I add ‘start a load of laundry’ to my to-do list before opening the door.
Kate is sprawled on the bed, reading, and she smiles at me as I walk in.
“Hey,” she says, reaching for me. Pulling my dirty shirt off, I go to her.
“I missed you tonight,” she says softly.
“I am so sorry I scheduled over our garden appointment,” I apologize. “I volunteered to help with something else before I remembered about our assignment.”
“That’s great,” I respond, grinning.
“Are you hungry?” she asks.
“Starving,” I laugh.
“Well good, because I have a full meal waiting out there. The kids hardly ate anything.”
“You didn’t eat?”
“I snacked. I wanted to wait for you.”
Though I am grateful, my smile fades slightly as I quickly change my clothes. My mind is still troubled, trying to process what I saw earlier. There’s no way that Tier 3 is completely gone, right? But Bent’s prediction niggles at me. No, it can’t be. If that were true, why the service assignments? And why falsify that information? I have personally seen shipments of resources heading for Tier 3. I can’t wrap my brain around it. I force myself to let it go—I can process and analyze later. There has to be a logical explanation, probably including information that I am not privy to at the moment. Right now, all I want is to enjoy a delicious dinner with Kate.
My sensor dings, waking me earlier than expected. Adrenaline courses through me as I read the message that appears on the display.
“Kate,” I whisper, “Kate, get up.”
She moves away from me, stubbornly ignoring my attempts to wake her.
“Kate, my dad is coming to visit,” I say, slightly louder. This time, she rolls over, her eyes wide.
“What?” she asks, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. Her hair is disheveled and, frankly, she looks adorable. I smile and reach out, wrapping my hand around her waist.
“I just got the message. I guess he was able to break away from his research project to stop in for a couple of days.”
“That’s quite unexpected,” she asserts.
“Yes,” I acknowledge. “And wonderful?”
She sighs. “Yes, and wonderful,” she agrees, flopping back onto her pillow. “Sorry, I am now mentally adjusting our schedule over the next few days. It feels a bit overwhelming, but I’m sure that’s my morning brain talking. I really am excited to see him.”
“I know,” I assure her, jumping out of bed. “He should be here this afternoon. Is it okay if I head into the lab early so that I can be here when he arrives?”
She nods, and that’s all I need.
“Nick!” my dad says affectionately as he greets me on the step. “Thanks for having me on such short notice.” We embrace, his broad shoulders dwarfing my own as his arms wrap around me.
“Glad you could come,” I say. “How were you able to get time off? I know your project has been really demanding this last year.” This is our own personal code. As a kid, I made the choice to keep him as my only mentor. There wasn’t really a better option genetically, and we have always had a close relationship. I tell him everything, which means he knows the reason for my move to another territory. He was the one I called when Kate rejected me that morning at the Celebration. He has sacrificed more than I have to make this happen, now living territories away from his only grandchildren. Since it is impossible to justify extra travel to Kate—or explain the true reason for his distance—we settle for digital communication most of the time. The goal was to have him here with us eventually, after his research concluded next year and Kate and I had solidified our bonding. Now, I am regretting the decision to wait.
“Hey, Sam,” Kate says, warmly embracing him.
Bentley runs out to greet his grandpa, hearing the commotion from his bedroom. The girls kick excitedly on the floor, aware that the energy in the house just shifted dramatically.
“Bent, my boy, look at you! You’ve grown at least a couple of inches since I saw you last,” Dad says, lifting him up to get a better look. Bentley wriggles out of his arms, laughing.
Taking large strides into the living room, he drops down to the floor and begins playing games with Beth and Leah. They coo with delight.
“Sam, can I get you a drink?”
“I’m good, Kate, thanks. Maybe in a minute,” he replies. I take a seat next to him on the floor and watch him interact with the girls, wondering if this was how he talked to me when I was their age. Kate joins us, settling comfortably on the couch.
“How have you been?” she asks. “Nick gives me updates, but I would love to hear it from you.”
“I’m good. My health is declining, which is only expected at my age, but I’m grateful to still have time left,” he replies, avoiding the details. Kate and I have discussed his diagnosis at length recently. Though it is a relatively slow growing cancer, our treatments still haven’t been consistently effective in eradicating it in older patients. It isn’t typically a cancer that we have access to in older patients—only because sarcomas and glioblastomas have typically already taken their toll by then. Sam is lucky to have evaded those at this age. But, since Berg hasn’t had many patients to study, we don’t necessarily know exactly what to expect.
We spend the rest of the afternoon allowing him to be with the kids, knowing that was his primary reason for making the trip. Our meeting with Shari, Grace, and the Director is tonight and, considering the circumstances, I don’t feel comfortable canceling. They thought it would be a good idea to meet mid-month to allow Kate’s involvement sooner rather than later. With the excitement of having a visitor, we both wait until the last minute to get ready.
She is nervous and excited. It’s really quite cute. I find myself teasing her and force myself to stop, getting a warning look from my dad, and realizing that it’s patronizing. Her input would be just as valid as mine in any normal situation. The problem is, I keep forgetting that she doesn’t know we aren’t normal. Another pang of guilt hits me. And then I remember what I need to do tonight, which floods my already convoluted system with cortisol, creating a veritable cesspool of stress hormones. Splashing water on my face takes a little of the nausea away, but I still don’t feel like eating.
Since Shari obviously wasn’t available to watch the kids, Kate had arranged for a neighbor to come over, but Sam’s presence made that unnecessary. It was actually quite convenient that he arrived when he did.
I hesitate slightly to leave him with all three kids when he is no longer used to being around children at all, but push any doubts away. This is the man that raised me, and Bentley is a fantastic helper. Plus, the girls are fed and shouldn’t cause much trouble, especially since we will only be gone for an hour or so.
“Nick, do you want any of this?” Kate calls from the kitchen.
“No, I will eat when we get home if that’s alright,” I answer.
“Sure, I’ll pack it up for you.”
As we prepare to walk out the door, there is a flurry of goodbyes, kisses, and instructions. Finally, we step outside and hop on our bikes. Doing something physical to release all of my energy is a relief.
“Are you okay?” Kate asks.
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You seem uptight,” she laughs.
“I think I’m just tired. The trials require me to be constantly ‘on’, if that makes sense. And, while I love having my dad here, it still somehow requires more energy to have someone—anyone—in our home.”
“Sorry you weren’t able to relax after getting home today. I should have just had you stay on campus. Maybe you could have rested in a storage closet or something,” she teases. “You could have visited with your dad after the meeting.”
“They do have actual rooms for that, you know,” I say, feigning offense.
She laughs. “That’s better.”
I smile, in spite of my nerves.
Kate and I settle in a few minutes early. Shari is the next to arrive.
“Hey, Kate,” she says, embracing her. “Nick, you look a little tired,” she comments.
“Charming, as always,” I say, tipping my proverbial hat. The women la
ugh and start chatting. I quickly log in to see how many patients I have lined up tomorrow. It’s our last day of initial trials. By Monday, we should know if we have any reason to hope for success. At that point, we can determine whether to continue with full trials next week. That’s when I intend to bring Kate in.
The Director and Grace walk in together, putting an end to the friendly conversation.
“Thanks for coming,” the Director says, greeting us warmly. “Kate, so glad you could join us. I apologize for not including you sooner. I hope you understand it was done out of consideration.”
Kate nods. “Glad to be here, thanks.”
“We will first ask a few questions about your pairing, and if you have any concerns, feel free to voice them. Then we will meet with Nick separately to discuss some classified information pertaining to his research,” Grace explains. Kate nods again, expecting this.
“Kate, why don’t you tell us how you feel about your pairing and your family in general?” Shari suggests. Kate reaches under the table and her fingers intertwine with mine.
“I love it. I had my reservations before accepting the pairing. I’m sure you remember—I don’t need to rehash that part. I don’t feel like my age has been a problem. Maybe Nick can speak to that,” she looks at me, winking, “but I think we are equal partners.”
“I agree,” I say, smiling and squeezing her hand.
“The girls are doing well and the pregnancy was simple, considering. I think—well, we are considering getting pregnant again,” she says hesitantly.
The Director is beaming. “So good to hear,” he congratulates.
“I would love to know—how are the other pairings doing?” Kate asks.
Grace repeats the numbers she reported at our last meeting and Kate’s eyes are bright.
“This program is making a huge impact,” Grace concludes. “We are so glad you are a part of it.”
Kate nods with a smile stretching from ear to ear.