Of Half a Mind

by Bruce M Perrin

  “Ken didn’t say anything about calling now because you didn’t ask,” said Sue. It wasn’t really a question, so I didn’t answer.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  I called Jon Huston first. There was a long pause after I described our concerns. Finally, he said, “I wish Ned could hear your ideas. He was the expert, but obviously, he never expected anything like this or he would have stopped the study.”

  Huston sighed. “Funny, but I thought you’d find that the Blocker wasn’t that effective in shutting down an entire hemisphere. There’s too much communication between the sides for such drastic changes in mental abilities. But there’s no doubt in my mind that Ned showed some of the symptoms you described. I’ll talk to Laverne. We take some precautions anyway; some of our work is sensitive. But I’ll tighten up our security. You and your team OK?”

  “I think so. I was going to call the police next. Anyone else I should talk to?”

  “The VA should know, but I’ll take care of that.” After a pause, he said, “That’s everyone I can think of, but I’ll give it some more thought. And, Doc?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you’re right, you need to be careful.”

  “You too, Jon.”

  I hung up and dialed Detective Ahern. Someone else answered his phone and took my name. After a few moments, Ahern picked up. “Afternoon, Sam. What can I do for you?”

  “Afternoon to you too, detective. I’m not quite sure how to put this…but, if you’re looking for someone who has used the Neural Activity Blocker extensively, we’ve developed some thoughts about how he might be acting.”

  After a pause, Ahern said, “So, this is a way we might spot A.T.? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Yeah, basically.”

  “OK. What do we look for?”

  “I can’t say with certainty. We have…an educated guess about general characteristics.”

  The detective chuckled. “You don’t like putting things in black and white, do you?” Then, seriousness returned to his voice. “Is this a guess because you still don’t have the data from the study?”

  “Yeah. It’s still missing. This is based on theory.”

  I had to wait for several moments for a response, but finally, Ahern said, “OK. Let’s hear it.”

  After I went through the two lists – capabilities the Blocker might increase and ones that might disappear – Ahern asked, “Didn’t you just describe Worthington? I mean, other than the compulsion to use the Blocker over and over, that’s Ned Worthington to a T.”

  “If he and this person both used the Blocker, then yeah, they could end up with similar traits.”

  “I see,” he said after a moment. “OK, I’ll add this to the case file.”

  Again, he thanked me for doing my civic duty, but again, I thought his words had little to do with his feelings. Even I had to admit that our theory about A.T. or another person yet unknown, who had killed a respected scientist to obtain an unfinished product, who had a working knowledge of electronics and software, who had money, and who had used the device to the point of blatantly disregarding the life of others sounded quite convoluted.

  But then, life’s not always simple.

  The walk back to the conference room gave me a moment to think, and clearly, I felt a strong sense of loss. The Blocker had the potential to be world-changing. It was the kind of technology that had brought Sue and I into our field and kept us poring through textbooks and technical journals until the wee hours of the morning. It was also the kind of project Ruger-Phillips would never have assigned to an inexperienced, junior team. Unfortunately, neither Sue or I was going to reap any benefits from their mistake.

  But that sense of loss was completely overwhelmed by a foreboding, somewhat for Sue and me, but mostly for Nicole. If there was a threat, Sue and I had to hold out a couple of weeks. Word would get out that we were off the project and then, we would be safe. But Nicole would have a target on her back as long as her company continued their work. She would be joined by others, of course, but her name would be the one people knew. The first on the project. My stomach was tying itself into knots.

  When I arrived at the conference room, Sue and Nicole summarized their thoughts on the final report. I added a few ideas, but not many. They knew what needed to be done and even seemed more focused on work than I could manage. With that out of the way, I asked Sue, “You still keeping Al close by?”

  “I am,” she replied. “Although, I can hardly stand it. No woman wants to see a man feeling that secure.” I frowned and Sue must have seen it, because she added. “Seriously, Doc. I’m being careful. He’s been sticking around until I leave for work and I don’t go home ‘til I know he’s there. I’m even taking different routes back and forth.”

  “Good,” I said. “Please keep it up for a while longer.” I turned to Nicole. “And I guess you’re not at your aunt’s any longer.”

  “Actually, today’s my first day back in my apartment. My aunt’s great, but I’m glad to be going home.”

  Although our surmises about the long-term effect of the Blocker were new, nothing else was. Nicole was in no more danger today than she had been yesterday, but her statement hit me hard. Compared to the last ten days when she came home to a house full of people, what she was about to do seemed very risky.

  “Why don’t you follow me back to your apartment after I pick up dinner?” I asked. “It just seems like a reasonable precaution, since you haven’t been there for a while.”

  Nicole sighed, looking first at Sue, then me. Finally, she said, “Yeah, OK. Guess it couldn’t hurt.”

  Monday, August 24, 5:56 PM

  Nicole pulled into a spot a few car lengths from her front door. I stopped beside her and rolled down my window. “I’ll park and be right back with the food.”

  When I returned, I saw her slip her phone into a pocket. She got out. “Now wouldn’t be a good time for a practical joke.” I looked at her blankly.

  “See the man sitting up in that window?” I looked up. Sure enough, someone was looking out of a window on the third floor. “That’s Mr. Fredricks. He’s retired, so he can be around when I need someone to watch.”

  We started toward her front door and I gave Mr. Fredricks a wave. He waved back.

  “This was just a demonstration,” Nicole said, “so you’d stop worrying. I’ll call him when I have to leave or return at odd hours, but not at times like this.”

  We had reached the front door, and while she entered a number on a keypad, I looked around. I saw her point. There was a couple strolling hand-in-hand on the other side of the street. A woman passed us walking her dog. A man was leaning into a parked car to kiss the woman sitting there.

  “But you don’t know you’ll find a parking….”

  Nicole turned to look at me, the door to her building open behind her. “Sam, I appreciate your concern, and I won’t do anything reckless. But I won’t live in fear either. OK?” Her eyes were locked on mine, unblinking.

  “OK,” I said slowly. She turned, we entered the building, and started up the stairs. “It’s just that I feel responsible for getting you and Sue mixed up in this.”

  “That’s nonsense…and a little degrading,” she said, as she spun again to stare at me. “I’m an adult. I make my own decisions. No one is forcing me to stay on this project.”

  While I admired Nicole’s strong, independent streak, a little less of it in this case would have been nice. But it was what made her the person she was, and no one was going to change that.

  I held up my hands in surrender. “Fair enough. I’ll leave it at, I’m here if you need me.”

  She smiled. “I know. And right now, I’m glad you are.” She opened her door and reached in to switch on a light.

  “I don’t want to be too dramatic,” I said. “But how about you stay here and I’ll go in and look around?”

  “How about we switch places,” Nicole said. I started to object, but she explained before a word left my mouth. “I k
now my place. I’ll know if anything has been disturbed. And I can check every spot where a person could be hiding before you’d find half of them.”

  I nodded slowly. “OK. Just yell if you need me.”

  Monday, August 24, 6:17 PM

  The Experimenter slinked into a shadow near the fire exit door. He hadn’t expected Price and Veles to be together. But after some thought, it wasn’t surprising. He’d seen how Price looked at her, even from the few seconds of video from the landing of the WHT building. What he hadn’t seen, however, was Veles returning the expression. But still, they might be in for the night.

  He had everything he needed to capture Veles – the Taser, the Blocker cap that would stun, the restraints, even a drug he could use to sedate her. But could he collect a new toy and a new subject at the same time? Maybe. He played it out in his mind.

  First, he’d go back to the entry hall and retrieve the large envelope he had seen when he followed the absent-minded, old man into the building. It would look official and Veles would open the door to sign for it. He’d pull the Taser, threaten her with it to get Price to put on the Blocker cap. Then, tasing her would leave both helpless, and he’d have them tied, gagged, and ready for transport in no time.

  There was a path to success, a way to continue his pursuit of endless life. He started down the stairs, then stopped.

  Yes, it could work, but it could also fail in so many ways. What if they refused to open the door? What if Price wouldn’t don the cap, letting Veles suffer a moment of agony so he could fight? He could subdue one with the Taser, but the thought of physically restraining the other, even if it was Veles, was unnerving. Although she was slightly built, he was certain she’d fight like a tigress.

  Better to be prepared for both.

  The Experimenter considered leaving and driving by Price’s apartment again. Even if he and Veles were together, the relationship was new. He’d be going home often, for clothes if nothing else. And the Experimenter knew little of his domicile beyond the few items he could see when Price left his blinds open during the day. But there was no reason to take another look at the old globe, or the antique clock, or the phrenology head that sat on his shelves, because the Experimenter’s reconnaissance had already revealed the perfect time to take Price. It was during his morning runs.

  He had followed Price only once, but the route that day had been perfect. It included a path around an urban park that was generally visible to nearby residences, streets, and in one section, a busy, six-lane highway. But there was also a stretch of about 20 yards that ran through a heavily wooded area. It would provide concealment for him as he laid in wait and for Price’s body, once he was subdued. Now, it was just a matter of Price repeating his footsteps, and he would. Of this, the Experimenter was certain.

  Deciding the drive by Price’s apartment was unnecessary, the Experimenter settled deeper into the shadows to wait. Perhaps Price would leave in an hour or two. And if he did, Veles would be his.

  Monday, August 24, 6:26 PM

  “Sam,” Nicole called from inside her apartment. “It’s all clear.”

  I found her in the living room where we had talked before. Sometime during the few minutes of her search of the apartment, she had changed into sandals, cutoff jean shorts, and a dark green t-shirt. The light from a table lamp was playing across her features, accentuating the soft curves of her body. As I came closer, the room seemed to fade into the background. She looked up at me, her eyes deep pools of brown. I could feel warmth radiating from her. Fortunately, she spoke first, because I am not sure I could have formed a coherent sentence if she hadn’t broken the spell.

  “Sorry, but I took advantage of the fact that I live here to get comfortable,” she said.

  “I don’t blame you. You want to eat now?”

  “Maybe relax a little first?” she said.

  “Sure, but if it’s OK with you, how about no shop talk? I’d like a break.”

  “Same here,” Nicole replied. She reached out and took the sack of food, lightly placing her other hand on my arm as she did. Nothing galvanized my attention like her lightest touch. “I’ll put this in the kitchen. Want a beer?” she asked, as she retreated into her apartment.

  “Sure.”

  I looked around. The room looked much the same, although the books on the table were different. This time it was Biomedical Engineering: Bridging Medicine and Technology and the Hemingway novel, For Whom the Bell Tolls. The latter I had read sometime in college; the former I never expected to crack.

  “So, is Veles a French name?” I asked when she returned with our drinks.

  “It’s actually an Americanized version of the Czechoslovakian name, Veleslavína. My grandfather immigrated in the 1950s from what is now Slovakia and had the family name changed to reflect his new homeland. I’m third-generation. My mother’s family had been in the United States longer, but had ties to France. So, my first name. What about you?”

  “I have to admit complete ignorance of my family tree, other than the fact that we’ve been in the States for generations. I know some parts of the family have been living near Kansas City for a long time, and other parts in Kentucky. But before that? I have nothing but rumors from elderly aunts, uncles, and grandparents. Maybe someday, I’ll trace down our roots, but I doubt it. Somehow, it’s never been that important to me.”

  “I tend to feel the same, but my ties to Slovakia are a bit too obvious to miss. And really, the ‘old country’ has probably affected me more than I like to admit. My dad is strict and old-fashioned. He has a lot of ideas about what’s proper for girls. I know it sounds trite, but he’s still not sure why I didn’t want to get married out of high school, have kids, and live next door.”

  I hesitated, rubbing my chin. I was the psychologist, but Nicole had given a lot more thought to how her environment had affected her than I.

  “My dad used to give us a runt from the litters of pigs to raise. Taking care of something that’s living is a lot of responsibility for a six-year-old, although I suspect he checked up on us. Anyway, it still felt like the job was ours to succeed or fail. It was the same with a lot of things growing up. My parents were interested in our lives and were supportive, but it was a ‘make your own way’ kind of upbringing.”

  Nicole smiled and nodded. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

  I wasn’t certain what that meant and started to ask when she said, “Are you hungry?”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  She led the way down a short hall to a small kitchen. The room was divided by an island with a range, microwave, cabinets, and counter space on one side. Three bar stools stood on the other. A sink below a window, dishwasher, and door to a back deck were at the far end of the room. Nicole pulled a couple of plates from a cabinet, as I unpacked the food. It wasn’t long before we were seated side by side at the island, our plates filled.

  I glanced sideways at her. “So, last time we established that you’re the city girl and I’m the farm boy. You have brothers or sisters?”

  “Three sisters, all younger,” she replied. “You?”

  “Two brothers. I’m in the middle.”

  Nicole turned toward me. “You think there’s any truth about the effect of birth order on personality?”

  I sat my fork down and returned her gaze. “I’m familiar with the idea, but if there’s research, I’ve never read it. Why?”

  “Well, because I tend to think I fit the description of firstborns about perfectly.”

  I rubbed my forehead, trying to recall what I had read. “Aren’t firstborns supposed to be driven? You know, goal-oriented? Achievers?” I held out my hands. “I’d say that fits you.”

  “Yeah,” she said, “but don’t forget structured and controlling. Those are in there too, although I think it goes with the territory. Both my parents worked and I ended up watching my sisters.”

  “OK, are you trying to break it to me that I rolled my Moo Shu shrimp the wrong way?”

  Nicole chewe
d on a fingernail, acting as if she was pained to tell me. “Yeah, they are a bit sloppy.” After a long sigh, she said, “It’s just that I like things the way I like them. But don’t most people?”

  “Probably so,” I said, but I was thinking that ‘straightforward’ might be more descriptive of her than controlling. If we had a future, I would always know where I stood. While that would be difficult at times, I preferred the kind of directness and independence that she practiced over games and guessing.

  I rubbed my chin, then took another sip of beer. “Yeah, I can see a lot of the first born in you, with the engineering career and all. But me? I can’t see I fit a second-born at all. If I remember correctly, they’re supposed to be social. I’m fairly shy.”

  Nicole shrugged in a way that said, ‘I’ll give you that.’

  “And isn’t pleasing people supposed to be their main goal in life?” I asked.

  “That may be a bit of an exaggeration,” replied Nicole, “but you like people to be happy. I’ve seen that in our meetings.”

  “I like it when it works out that way, and with you and Sue, it often does. But when I’ve worked something out and believe my conclusion is right, whether the message is going to make someone happy or not?” I shrugged. “It’s just not that important.”

  Nicole grimaced in a dramatic way. “Yeah, I guess I’ve seen that with Ken.” She paused a moment. “And the police for that matter. And you weren’t exactly concerned about how Dr. Worthington felt about the files we needed either. Yeah, I guess you are pretty asocial, aren’t you?” she said as a grin came to her face.

  “What can I say?”

  We rinsed our dishes and put the food away. Then, I followed her back to the living room.

  “Tonight was fun,” I said, glancing at my watch. “I’m glad we could get together, but I better call it an evening.”

  “I enjoyed it too.” She started toward the door.

  I don’t know if first kisses ever go smoothly; most of mine hadn’t. It also seemed like they went worse when I really liked a woman, and Nicole set new standards in that regard. But shaking hands again wasn’t an option.