Of Half a Mind

by Bruce M Perrin

  “Like I mentioned yesterday, I want to give you a little background on Ned’s research. I guess some of what I’m going to say isn’t strictly necessary, but it’ll provide some perspective.”

  Huston checked the papers he had retrieved from his desk. “The proposal you read – Ned submitted it to the VA about 19 months ago. They were interested in his ideas, called several meetings with him, but they were slow to make a decision. So, he took the opportunity to get a jump start. That’s not unusual for us. We often prototype a technology so we have something real to show a potential funding agency.

  “Anyway, the early work was very successful, with one exception. Ned learned he couldn’t control the Blocker precisely. So, he proposed a proof of concept – aim the Neural Activity Blocker at a hemisphere, rather than at the part of the cortex controlling a limb.”

  “There was a second proposal?” I asked.

  Huston scratched his chin idly. “There would have been some paperwork, but at that point, Ned had been talking to them for a while. It may be only a page or two…plus a budget. I’ll have Laverne find whatever we have.”

  “Thanks.”

  Huston glanced at his notes again. “It was in August, over a year ago, when the VA agreed to fund Ned, and within two months, the clinical trials with A.T. started. I was busy with other matters, but the reports I got from Ned were glowing. If anything, he felt that the effects of the Blocker were even more profound than he expected.”

  “More profound?” Sue asked, showing the same slight frown that covered each of our faces. “In what sense?”

  “Facility with math.” Huston rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. “One of the first times it came up, A.T. had just recalled a list, then added one more number at the end. When Ned asked what it was, A.T. said it was the sum. Of course, Ned thought he was joking, but he checked and sure enough, it was. When he asked A.T. why he had done that, he said the number just popped into his head.”

  I shifted in my chair, stealing glances at the women. Both were looking at Huston closely, their brows knitted.

  “I know that sounds strange,” said Huston, “but in the context of this research? Maybe not so much. The additional capacity A.T. would have from using the Blocker would have to go somewhere. Having it involved in mental math wasn’t that surprising. And besides, Ned had always been enthusiastic about his research. I thought some of his claims might have been slightly exaggerated.” Huston looked down at the floor and rubbed his forehead. “Not one of my better deductions, was it?” He sighed deeply.

  He looked up and continued. “About six months ago, in November, things started changing. At first, A.T. seemed to get more invested in the research. He had figured out how to adjust the Blocker and argued vigorously to do so. But before you ask, I don’t know exactly what he had in mind. Ned only told me after the fact, and he had already stopped him. Shortly after that, A.T. started regressing. He said he couldn’t remember lists that previously had been easy.”

  “Are you saying A.T. held back because he wasn’t allowed to change the Blocker?” asked Nicole.

  “Maybe,” said Huston. “We discussed the possibility, but had no way to know. Anyway, Ned was anxious to find something to reverse the losses, so he switched to recalling letters and nonsense syllables. At first, that seemed to work, but soon, A.T.’s ability disappeared again. At that point, Ned was sure he was feigning his loss, but he had no proof. Things continued to deteriorate. The morning I heard the study was over, I wasn’t sure if Ned had canceled it or if A.T. had withdrawn. It was the latter. That was late December.”

  Someone knocked on Huston’s door and we all turned as Laverne appeared. “Doctor H, can I see you a moment?”

  “Please excuse me,” Huston said, as he stepped outside into the reception area.

  “What do you make of the tension at the end of the study?” asked Nicole after Huston had left.

  “I’m not sure,” I replied. “Huston’s recalling this after several months of turmoil and his partner’s death. It might be nothing, but we’ll need to look at all of the other data around this same time.”

  “I’m surprised A.T. didn’t go bonkers long before it was over,” said Sue. “Four months, looking at numbers? And besides, this is all coming from Worthington’s side. If he was anywhere near as volatile during the study as he was with us…. Well, faking the loss of his ability might have been the easiest way for A.T. to get out.”

  Sue paused, pulling on an ear as she gazed across the room. “But then, we’re certainly getting indications – both from Laverne and Huston – that Worthington was different back then. You think that’s possible?”

  “It seems likely,” Nicole said, “as consistent as they are. But the question is, why the change?”

  “Hopefully, the rest of Huston’s story will explain it,” I said. “And personally, I can hardly wait to hear it.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “Sorry, that took a lot longer than I expected,” said Huston as he entered his office after about 25 minutes. He walked across the room and took a seat with us.

  “No problem,” I said. “Gave us all a chance to think about what you were saying.”

  Huston nodded, then grimaced in an exaggerated way. “Unfortunately, we have a problem.” He took a deep breath. “Laverne has been through Ned’s lab, and the files you need aren’t there.”

  I flinched at his words and picked up the sound of Nicole and Sue shifting in their seats. I was searching for something to say when Huston continued.

  “But it may not be as bad as it sounds. I think we’ve found them. The reason I was gone so long was because I called Beth – Ms. Elizabeth Scott, Ned’s wife. She has several boxes of his notes and she’s having his safe opened. Since the files you need aren’t here, they must be somewhere in those boxes. She’ll bring them by this afternoon at 1:30.”

  “OK,” I said slowly, shooting glances at Sue and Nicole. “But wouldn’t she rather go through them herself, then just give us what we need?”

  “She did that and didn’t find anything she thought was from the study, but she doesn’t know what to look for. She’s afraid she missed your files. I’d have Laverne check, but she’ll be on vacation starting tomorrow.” Huston scratched his cheek, then held out a hand. “I guess I could hire a graduate student to go through them, if you’d like that better?”

  I paused, still wondering if there was an option that didn’t involve going through a dead man’s papers. But this was Sue’s and my only job for the next five months, so to decline meant we would be sitting at our desks, waiting for Laverne to come back from vacation or some unknown grad student to pick through Worthington’s notes…and probably miss what we needed.

  I was about to agree to meet with Scott when Huston said, “Frankly, I was going to suggest you talk with Beth even before this came up. We’re getting to a time when I didn’t see Ned that often. Beth would know a lot more about what was going on.”

  I shifted in my chair, my gaze dropping to the floor. That didn’t help resolve my quandary at all. If anything, it made it worse. I looked up at Huston. “That seems like a lot to ask,” I said, frowning. “I mean, her husband just died.”

  Huston nodded slowly, looking at me. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll ask and let you know what she says. But she’ll probably welcome the chance to have you hear about Ned from her perspective, rather than what you read in the papers.”

  I looked at the women, receiving a steady gaze and a slight nod in return. “OK,” I said, turning to Huston. “We’ll be back this afternoon to meet with Ms. Scott, if she’s interested, and to get the papers.”

  “Excellent,” he replied, returning to his upbeat, enthusiastic self. “What I propose is that you come by the office at 1:00 to see the Blocker. I checked, and it’s ready and waiting. Then, you can meet Beth at 1:30. Work for you?”

  “Yeah, sounds great.” We said our good-byes and left.

  Thursday, August 20, 12:57 PM

  W
e hadn’t even had time to ask Laverne about her vacation plans when Huston burst into the reception area. He must have heard us on the stairs.

  “Excellent, you’re here,” he said. “The Blocker’s this way.”

  He led Sue, Nicole, and I into Worthington’s office. I could feel myself tense as we entered. Even when empty, the arrangement with the massive desk across from the chairs lined against the wall said arrogance. But Laverne had already started to work her re-decorating magic, as a few pictures now graced the area.

  Huston entered a number on a keypad and we entered Worthington’s lab. Prominently displayed in the middle of the floor was a suite of equipment I could only assume was the Blocker. It consisted of two, gray metal boxes, stacked on each other. They were about 18 inches wide and about 4 or 5 inches tall. The front panels appeared to be brushed aluminum or something with a similar finish. The top box had a single switch, one knob, and a small, digital meter on the front.

  The front of the lower box was considerably more cluttered, with a half dozen indicator lights, several push button switches, three toggle switches, and a second digital meter. Near the bottom, left corner, two cables exited the enclosure. The smaller one went to a computer that sat on a separate table; the other to a cloth cap with a chinstrap. Spaced across the surface of the cap were numerous disks, each about the diameter of a quarter, although considerably thicker. The cap rested on the arm of a reclining chair.

  “Are those metal disks the TMS coils?” Sue asked as she pointed to them.

  “They are.”

  “They’re certainly a lot smaller than what we saw.”

  Huston looked confused until Nicole clarified. “I showed them a typical figure-8 configuration used for treating depression.”

  “Sure,” replied Huston. “It was the design of these coils and the timing of their firing that were Ned’s primary technical breakthroughs. Without those advances, we wouldn’t have the Neural Activity Blocker.” He paused a moment, then added, “I’d be remiss if I didn’t also mention that Dr. Sebastian Atwood had a lot to do with the materials used in the coils.”

  “Yeah, we met Dr. Atwood at our first meeting,” said Sue. “Although I don’t remember him taking credit for the coils.” She glanced at Nicole and I out of the corner of her eye, probably to make sure we recalled the man who hadn’t even said ‘Hello,’ much less talked about his research.

  Huston scratched his chin. “Really. I’m surprised about that. Sebastian Atwood is a material scientist – a very successful one in fact. But other than the metal used in the coils, he wouldn’t know much about the technology.” He paused a moment. “Maybe Ned thought you’d have questions in that area.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Sue said.

  I couldn’t see why Worthington would have anticipated questions about the metal when there were so many other things he had failed to disclose. But that unsettling thought disappeared, when Nicole asked, “Is this the only Blocker?”

  “Probably,” said Huston.

  Perhaps seeing my frown, he elaborated. “Most of a Blocker is either commercially available components or uses cheap, raw materials, like the yards of wire in the coils. But their core is a somewhat expensive, proprietary metal, and we have less in inventory than I expected.”

  Then, Huston raised a hand and snapped his fingers. “Ned might have loaned some of the core material to Atwood’s lab. I’ll check on that.”

  Everyone became quiet, as we gazed at the boxes and knobs, meters and wires in the device before us.

  Is that capable of all I think…and any of what I fear?

  I glanced at Nicole. Her lips were slightly parted. Her eyes were wide. I could almost feel the awe and wonder radiating from her. She walked over to the device and ran a hand across each panel. I looked at Huston, who was smiling, as if he understood and perhaps shared her fascination.

  “The top box is the power supply,” said Huston. “The bottom is what you’d think of as the Blocker. The computer controls the settings for the equipment. Even though this layout is bulky, once perfected, Ned thought devices for specific uses, like relaxation or pain treatment, would be small enough to carry…well, maybe even in your pocket.”

  “Amazing,” said Nicole, “given the size of TMS devices now.”

  Huston nodded, his look going far away, as if he too was in awe of his partner’s accomplishments.

  Knowing that Nicole would be digging much deeper into these electronics than I could ever fathom by asking about each knob and switch, I didn’t. After a few moments, Huston asked, “Anyone want to give it a try? Just alpha waves to both hemispheres, so it should be relaxing.”

  I was about to volunteer when Nicole spoke up. “Does the Blocker produce the same sort of tapping sensation as most TMS devices? I’ve heard it can be a little…unpleasant, especially at first.”

  “No, it doesn’t. By reducing and dispersing the stimulation, it’s more like a humming…or maybe a white noise. Want to give it a try?”

  There was that phrase again, ‘white noise.’ So, perhaps Worthington’s earlier description was merely their standard. A flicker of recognition also showed in Nicole’s eyes. Then, she rubbed her chin, her gaze moving off toward the corner of the room. “It’s tempting, but no. I’ll pass,” she said, after a few moments.

  Sue’s head was shaking when I looked her direction. “I’ll try it,” I said.

  “Great,” said Huston. “Have a seat and I’ll get you hooked up.”

  Huston produced a consent form from a cabinet along the wall. It was standard; I’d seen ones like it many times before. As I signed it and Huston readied the device, however, my excitement about experiencing the unknown became tempered by my concern about the same. Was this really a good idea? Logically, I knew there was little risk. My exposure was no different than dozens of others who had been in their safety analyses.

  With this reasoning running in my head, which at least slowed the stream of adrenaline pumping into my bloodstream, I focused on my goal in volunteering. I wanted to see if the Blocker could really interrupt active thought. I decided I’d count backwards from 100 by 3’s in my head, something I had tried several years earlier when I was being anesthetized for surgery for a broken ankle. I had only made it to the upper 80s on that occasion.

  “OK,” said Huston, when I was all hooked up. “Here goes.”

  100, 97, 94…91.

  It wasn’t that I couldn’t continue counting, but it no longer seemed important. Not at all.

  I remembered Nicole’s mentioning a tapping sound. I listened. There was a slight background noise. Where was it? My gaze swept around the room, but it seemed to come from inside my head. Perhaps there was a slight vibration in the chair too. Or were they the same? It felt soothing, almost like a tingling in my shoulders and back.

  I looked up at the wall, noticing a clock hanging there. I watched as the second hand swept around the face. Four. Five. Six. My breaths were coming about every five seconds. No, I needed to stop timing them. I was starting to hold my breath.

  Was Huston recording anything? Video? I wondered what it looked like. Maybe, not too bad. Oh, Laverne must have been in here. There’s a plant in the corner.

  “Doc?”

  It was Huston’s voice. I looked to my right. He was standing there. My thoughts returned to the here-and-now. “Wow,” was all I could think to say. “How long was I…do you call it, being blocked?”

  “As good a term as any,” Huston said, smiling. “About three minutes. How was it?”

  “Interesting,” I replied. “It would definitely give biofeedback a run for its money. It wasn’t that I felt disoriented so much as just…drifting from thought to thought. Like it was too much trouble to focus.”

  Huston nodded. “I’ve heard it described that way before.” He glanced at his watch. “Unless someone has a question, we should head for my office. Beth is probably there already.” We had none and left.

  When we got to the reception area, Laverne’s de
sk was empty. Huston turned to us. “Please give me a moment to talk to Beth. Then, we’ll get started.” He left us.

  “I really should have been the one to try the Blocker,” said Sue, as we waited for his return.

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  “Then, we could get an answer to the question, is the Blocker better than sex?”

  I rolled my eyes. Claiming I could answer that question was not anywhere I wanted to go in front of Nicole, but I was struggling to find a different comeback.

  “Beth’s ready if you are,” said Huston, as he appeared in his office doorway.

  “We are,” I said, thankful for the reprieve.

  When we entered, a fifth chair had been added to Huston’s conversation area. Seated in one of the chairs was a woman with dark blonde hair and brown eyes. Her face was lightly tanned. She was dressed simply in khaki pants, white blouse, and a light, navy blazer. She rose when we approached, confirming my impression that she was petite – perhaps five feet and an inch or two, if that. Huston did the introductions, which confirmed what I already suspected – this was Ms. Elizabeth Scott, wife of the late Dr. Ned Worthington.

  She extended her hand to me. It was small, delicate, but her grip was firm. “Please, call me Beth,” she said, her eyes locked on mine.

  “I’m Sam Price, and this is Sue Jordan and Nicole Veles,” I said, turning to my team. “Sam, Sue, and Nicole, if you please.” Scott shook the hands of each of the women, then we all sat.

  “Nice to meet all of you,” Scott said. “I’ve brought all the papers from Ned’s office and everything from his safe. The safe was empty, except for this.”

  She picked up a notebook from one of the side tables and handed it to Huston. Under the notebook was a box, about the dimensions of a sheet of paper and approximately four inches deep. On the floor, next to her feet was another box of the type used for copy or typing paper. If I remembered correctly, one could hold 5,000 pages.

  Huston examined the notebook. “Excellent. It’s the specifications for the Blocker,” he said. He handed it to Nicole. “Our first delivery. Unfortunately, finding the rest of what you need is going to take some digging.”