by RP Halliway
“This is the brain imaging room,” the professor said, waving first to the machine and then to the glass enclosed control room. “When we get a good candidate, we bring them in here and try to image a memory as it happens through brain activity.”
“That has to be scary,” Evie said, looking at the intimidating equipment.
“Oh, it is,” the professor said. “Loud and scary, which is why it isn’t done to every child. I’m not in charge of this research. My colleagues Joy and Frank are. They’re the ones that try to capture the memories—or memory flares as I like to call them—while they’re happening. But it’s very rare. They’ve only captured one or two from children in the years I have been on the project.”
As they were standing around the machine, a woman walked up. “Hello. I’m Joy Parsons, I work with capturing memories in this contraption.” She pointed to the enormous machine.
“Do you capture more than just child memories?” Evie asked.
“If we relied solely on capturing memories of children, we’d be out of work very quickly,” Joy said, smiling to Evie. “We also do base memory mapping of all ages. In fact, we’re currently working on three long term projects of memory mapping for age related studies.”
“Age related?” Silas asked, feeling underwater on the academic nomenclature.
“Yes,” Joy said, moving her smile to Silas. “We’re trying to determine why Alzheimer patients have such a strong connection to memories of long ago and mapping the same memories in subjects at five year intervals. We’re trying to see if the memory ‘strength,’ if you want to call it that, varies. We’re also doing a long term study on Parkinson’s regions to see if there are any physical changes that cause disease progression.”
“Those memory studies are for the subjects’ own memories?” Evie asked. “Unlike the kids?”
“Exactly,” Joy answered. “Every person in the study needs to be able to focus quite clearly on something they experienced in the recent or far past. Recent memories seem to have more trouble sticking for some reason—such as a relative’s visit last week—but long ago memories are easily recalled.”
“And the memory regions are mapped with the imager?” Silas asked.
“Yep,” Joy answered. “The subjects recall the memories, either recent ones, or long ago memories, and the active regions of the brain are imaged and compared.”
“Would a child having someone else’s memory be in a different region than a memory of their own?” Evie asked.
“That’s the biggest question the machine is trying to answer,” Joy said. “But so far the memories and child attention spans are both too elusive to capture.” She snapped her fingers for effect, as if the memories were being whisked away.
“And you don’t do any work on where these child memories come from?” Evie asked.
“We wouldn’t even know how to begin to characterize that,” Joy said. “We just look at the regions that are active when they have a lucid memory—if we can capture that moment in a very willing and cooperative child. Without accurate data, there isn’t any way to even create a hypothesis.”
“Do you have an opinion on where the children get these memories?” Evie asked.
“Not a clue,” Joy admitted. “The brain is still a huge mystery, and we are hoping our work will produce some small steps to understanding the brain better.”
“Oh, come on Joy,” Professor Andrews said. “You always have an opinion.”
Joy laughed. “I have to be careful about giving professional opinions. I’ve been bitten by that before.”
“Supernatural?” Evie asked.
“That’s definitely a possibility,” Joy said. “Did I hear ‘artifact’ when you walked in?”
Evie nodded. “We came here because of dreams—one about Timmy, and one about an artifact.”
“What kind of artifact?” Joy asked. “I am very interested in history and relics of the past.”
“It looked like a couple cylinders on a stand, maybe three,” Silas said.
“Cylinders?” Joy poured through her memory of historical objects. “I don’t ever recall anything looking like just a cylinder. . .”
“Roger?” Andrews asked Joy.
“Roger?” Silas echoed, hoping for a new lead.
“Roger Borlun,” Professor Andrews said. “Used to be Professor Borlun, physicist, but he gave that up to work on a different topic. He’s the first person I thought of when you mentioned cylinders.”
“He is kind of a joke around here now,” Joy said. “He used to teach and do research, but then he had an epiphany and has gone off the rails for the last few years.”
Silas and Evie exchanged nervous glances.
“I can get you his contact information,” Professor Andrews said, then he motioned for them to follow him.
Back in his office, Professor Andrews led the pair into the mirrored room, with a wall of shelves, filled about half full with notebooks.
Silas studied the construction of the shelves, noting the thick maple boards making sturdy shelving, with a nice light coat of varnish just to bring out the natural grain. The bottom shelf held about sixty notebooks, and each higher shelf contained differing numbers of notebooks, with the top shelf only holding eleven.
“These are the case files,” the professor said, noticing Silas’ gaze. “Each shelf holds the cases that fit into the ‘believable’ ratings. The top shelf contains the cases we think are real, the next down holds the cases that we think are believable, but to a lesser extent, etc. Down to the bottom shelf, where those cases don’t have enough information to make an assessment, with the red labeled books being the fakes.”
Silas and Evie scanned the shelves, taking in the information. “So you have about two hundred cases?” Evie asked.
“Around two hundred in a ‘no more information possible’ state,” Andrews answered, pointing to the shelves. “The current, and possibly true, cases are more protected in terms of access and are more actively studied—so those are in a different room. There are about seventy currently active cases with teams in several countries and different locations, with more being searched for all the time.”
“Incredible,” Silas murmured.
“It really is,” Professor Andrews nodded.
“Are these cases all from the 1920’s like Timmy’s seems to be?” Evie asked. “Or are there some from earlier? Later?”
“It ‘s hard to say—records are scarce for all of the cases so far,” Professor Andrews said. “The paper trail for anything before 1940s is essentially non-existent, which leads to many indeterminate cases, as you could probably guess. But the dates given by several children are, or were, in the 1840s and around there.”
“I see,” Evie said. “I was just wondering if there was a pattern to the dates of the memories.”
“You have a natural curiosity,” Professor Andrews said, giving Evie a warm smile. “We’ve wondered that exact same thing. We do have a group trying to process that data, but the lack of corroborating sources for early years makes most of them either possible hoaxes or waiting for verification. It is truly disheartening sometimes to have to give up on a case because any memories can’t be verified,” He finished with a sad look.
“What about famous people?” Silas asked, “Are memories of famous people more popular?”
“Out of all the people to be studied, there really isn’t a ‘popular’ that I am aware of in children,” Andrews said.
“Why did you say children?” Evie asked, giving a curious look to Andrews, keying on the word.
Andrews chuckled slightly. “You noticed that, did you? I am not the biggest or only researcher on memories. There are many ‘hypnosis’ sessions that claim anyone can regress to a past life. In these memories, the subjects—or participants—typically pick a famous person in history. I haven’t ever heard or read of a regressed memory being a l
owly farmer, or orphan in a gang, and so on. In fact, I’ve read of at least three ‘Julius Caesar’ cases,” He finished with a big laugh.
“That doesn’t seem to work.” Evie puzzled her face.
“Exactly!” Andrews laughed harder, “There should really be only one Caesar, right? Which is why I chose to work on the child side of ‘reclaimed’ memories, rather than adult ‘regressed’ memories.”
“Makes sense,” Evie said, smiling with the professor.
The professor rifled through different piles of paper, finally giving up. “I thought I had Roger’s info with me, but I can’t seem to find it. I’ll ask the front desk to give you contact information for Roger.”
“Did you see the book on the desk?” Silas whispered quietly to Evie as soon as they were out of earshot.
She nodded. “Yes. Robert, born 8/3/2007. That would make him eight years old. Like Robert in the dream.”
“I just got chills,” Silas said.
Evie nodded. “You and me both, my friend. You and me both.”
At the main desk the assistant looked up as they approached. “Professor Andrews asked me to get Roger’s information for you.” Her face reddened as she grabbed a clean piece of paper from the printer. She copied something from a small rolodex on her desk onto the paper. “Here’s his phone number. If he answers, he can direct you to his house. He lives pretty close.” Then she immediately went back to work.
“Is Roger okay?” Evie asked.
“He is, as far as I know,” she answered. “It is just a shame, is all. A brilliant guy, loved by all the students, suddenly is out of his mind. I shouldn’t say that,” She corrected herself, with a flustered shake of her head. “He is a great guy.”
“Is he dangerous?” Evie asked, giving a look to Silas.
“Oh, heaven’s no,” she said. “Feel free to contact him, he would never hurt anyone. Visitors might actually do him good. He is just not the same as he was when he was working here.”
“Thanks,” Silas said, taking the paper.
“Tell him that Rose wishes him well,” The assistant said quietly as the couple took the phone number.
The two left through the front doors, and spied a crowd gathered around just off the main path.
“What is that?” Silas asked a student walking toward them, pointing to the gathering.
She half glanced toward the crowd. “That’s the local preacher giving his afternoon sermon. Seems like today is about demons and devils.”
Silas nodded to the girl. “A sermon on demons?” he asked Evie. “That’s new to me. You interested?”
“Talking to Roger interests me more,” Evie replied with a shrug, continuing to the parking lot.
They reached the car and stood outside, contemplating their next move. Silas held up the paper and shrugged, and Evie gave a shrug back and a small nod. Silas handed the paper to Evie. “You should probably call.”
“Why? Because you’re going to be driving?”
“No, because if he’s crazy, maybe he won’t go psycho hearing a woman’s voice first.”
“Good point.” Evie dialed the number from the paper and put her phone on speaker.
“Hello?” a male voice answered.
“Hi. My name is Evie, and I am here with my friend Silas, and we’re looking for Professor Roger Borlun.”
“That’s me,” the man said.
First contact complete. Now on to the next part.
“We just got done visiting the lab of Professor Andrews,” Evie said. “And he mentioned that you might be able to help us.”
“Andrews!” Roger shouted. “That sly dog. Did he send you in a professional capacity?”
“He just said that you might be able to help,” Evie replied, “I don’t think it was professionally.”
Roger laughed heartily, lightening the mood. “I’m not putting you on the spot, young lady, just wondering if he has come to his senses yet and accepted my theories.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Evie said. “But we were just leaving the lab now. Is it too late to come visit?”
“Never!” Roger said. “I’m open all hours. Feel free to drop by any time.”
Roger provided his address to Silas and Evie. As Evie continued the phone call, Silas put the address into his phone GPS.
The GPS processed for a minute and the route popped up and zoomed in. “Less than three miles away,” Silas whispered to Evie, showing the GPS route. “Shows about fifteen minutes.”
“We just drove in from Ohio to see Professor Andrews today,” Evie said.
“Oh my. You must be tired,” Roger almost shouted into the phone. “I’ll put on some B-B-Q. What do you fancy? Ribs? Steak? Burgers?”
“Oh, we aren’t about to put you to any trouble,” Evie said, backpedaling.
“No trouble at all!” Roger said. “It would be my pleasure.”
Evie shot Silas a look and mouthed “should we?” to him. Silas shrugged back in a “why not” kind of way.
“Okay, we should be there shortly, but don’t go to any trouble. We’re fine just talking with you,” Evie said, leaving it up to Roger.
“Excellent,” Roger said. “Ribs it is.” And he disconnected the call.
Silas exited the parking lot and started following the GPS route. Fifteen minutes later the car pulled up at the destination. The pair sat in the car, unsure if they wanted to go into the stranger’s house.
“If there is any sign of trouble, we’ll just leave,” Silas said. “I’ll create a diversion if needed, and you can run for it.”
“My hero!” Evie joked, seeing the humor in the plan, and they both started laughing.
Silas gave the location a thorough scan. It seemed like a perfectly respectable neighborhood. All of the lawns were trimmed, the houses of different shades sat in neat order, and trees stood tall and green. Only two other cars occupied the street. Otherwise the cars were stowed neatly in the driveways and garages.
“Last chance to back out,” Silas said, not turning the car off, waiting to see if Evie had any doubts.
“One second,” Evie tapped out a message on her phone and hit send. “I texted the address and phone number and shared my location with my dad. Just in case.”
“That’s smart,” Silas said. “So we’re going in?”
“We have to,” Evie said. “At least if we want to find out what is going on.”
Silas shut off the engine. “Okay,” he said, and then smiled, “all this is on you then.”
“Funny,” she replied, with only half his smile.
Before the pair reached the door, it swung open wide and a white haired man stepped out to greet them. Shorter than Silas by a good half foot, the man’s pants fit a size or two smaller than his current waistline, and his bottom shirt buttons seemed to want to spring free at a moment’s notice. But the smile on his face seemed genuine and wholesome.
“Welcome! Welcome!” Roger shouted, seemingly intent on inviting the entire neighborhood in with his proclamation. “Come on in!”
Silas and Evie stepped in, Silas watching and ready to push Evie out the door at the first sign of trouble.
“These are my assistants,” Roger said, and three college age young people appeared, all smiling.
Silas’ nerves immediately settled down seeing the assistants in the house.
“Nice to meet you all,” Evie said. She, too, felt much more at ease.
“Rose says hi, too,” Evie added to Roger.
“Oh. Thanks, dear,” Roger said, a little fondness showing in his face. “She was always my favorite.”
“We’re out on the patio,” Roger said, pointing to a large door, behind which was a smoking grill.
“We don’t mean to put you to any trouble,” Silas said.
“Nonsense, my boy!” Roger said. “Fo
od and conversation is my favorite activity. Not necessarily in any particular order!” He patted his rotund shape.
As they walked toward the patio, Silas scoped out the entire visible house, looking for any dangers.
“Stop it!” Evie said, noticing his wary eyeing of the house. “I think we’re fine.”
“Okay,” Silas said, but he vowed to stay vigilant.
At the grill, one assistant tending to the ribs with occasional flips and generous slatherings of sauces. Roger looked at Evie and Silas with great curiosity. “You two seem like an odd couple. What brings you here? How is Andrews?”
“It is quite a long story,” Evie said, looking at Silas, who nodded emphatically to Evie.
“Professor Andrews seems fine,” Evie started answering Roger’s questions, not necessarily in the same order.
“Still chasing Were-rabbits?” Roger asked with a wide grin.
“Were-rabbits?” Silas asked, not sure how he or Evie would know the answer to that question.
“Yes. Were-rabbits!” Roger exclaimed, laughing. “He sees tracks and prints and fur, but doesn’t ever see any rabbits or Were-rabbits.”
“I guess,” Silas said, not sure what the analogy was about.
“His ‘listening’ project,” Roger said. “Still taking stories but not knowing what they mean.”
“I see,” Silas said, making more sense of the question.
“That’s what we saw today,” Evie said. “We visited the reclaimed memories lab.”
“And you asked the biggest question!” Roger said, smiling brightly at Silas and Evie.
“Question?” Evie asked, exchanging glances with Silas and shrugging.
“The ‘How?’ question,” Roger said. “And Andrews sent you to me.” He sat back and crossed his arms. “Andrews wants all the answers, but refuses to ask the right questions.”
“Which is the question of ‘how?’” Evie asked.
“Exactly!” Roger said. “You learn fast. Faster than Andrews, Joy, and Frank.”
“Actually,” Silas said, “we didn’t get your name until we mentioned having a dream about a cylindrical artifact.”
“Cylindrical artifact?” Roger asked, his jaw dropping and eyes widening. Evie and Silas both made out the wheels turning in his head.