Killer Geezer

by T. Jackson King

  The black woman frowned, saw the black ash on the corner of her table, then looked relieved. “So glad to hear that it was nothing serious. I’ll see you this Saturday at the Sisters Gala, right?”

  “Right,” Robinson said, showing a casual smile to the woman.

  Professor Olivia turned and walked out the door to the hallway, closing the door behind her.

  I caught Robinson’s gaze. “Good acting. And quick thinking.” I handed back the iPad to her. “I believe this belongs to you.”

  Robinson took the iPad without looking at it, setting it on her desk as she stared at me with a mixture of puzzlement, interest and determination.

  “Thanks. Uh, Jack. And maybe you should call me Claudia. I suspect we will be spending time together in the future.”

  Well, she clearly accepted the reality of my abilities. But I had no wish to be her research subject.

  “Claudia, thank you for covering for me. Now that you see my abilities are real, do you have any idea what might have caused them? Beyond supernatural intervention?”

  She snorted. “Since you appear to accept science as a real process for learning about life and reality, I too will leave the supernatural out of my thinking.” Claudia looked down at her right hand, then up at me. She folded both hands atop her desk. “Jack, I wonder if you could have a brain tumor? A stroke would not produce this kind of . . . unique ability. But history does show some people with defects in part of their mind are able to recall events with photographic detail, or learn languages or music as soon as they hear them. Or develop talents in other senses when one sense is limited or disabled.” She pointed up at a picture on the wall that held the entry door. It showed a person sitting in a dentist-like chair with their head enveloped in a nest of yellow wires and white dots that touched the person’s scalp. “The time I spent in Finland was focused on developing multi-channel DC SQUID-based magnetoencephalographic arrays. I wanted to characterize human brain dynamics, with a focus on frequency domain analysis and detection of MEG signals from deep brain structures.” She shrugged. “But surely you read that in my online bio page.”

  “I did. Doesn’t mean I understood it. Other than the fact you want to know more about how the deep inner parts of the brain work.”

  She gave me an encouraging smile. “Close enough. Now, my research focuses on transcranial current stimulation of adult brains to enhance social skills and to treat disorders of the brain.” Claudia the prof turned thoughtful. “If I could apply some SQUIDs to your head I might be able to rule out, or rule in, some kind of deep brain issue. If something shows up on my MEG screen, then it would be time for a PET scan and an MRI image to find abnormal structures or tumors within your brain. Wanna give it a try?”

  I looked at my digital watch. It was 11 a.m. My return train left at 6 p.m. Maybe letting her experiment would be worthwhile. At least I stood to learn what wasn’t happening. In science, I’d learned long ago, negative data is just as useful as positive data.

  “Okay.”

  She became excited. “Great! But, uh, I need to know your last name, your birth date and a phone number for you. An address will also keep the campus computer happy.”

  Damn. No way could I give her all my info. “My last name is Hansen. Danish heritage. My Mom was a Van Wyck from the Netherlands. I was born 70 years ago, on June 14, 1950.” I gave her the numbers for my phone. “I live alone now in Santa Fe. Can’t give you my address. If this research gets out, I do not want to be hounded by media types. Like Jesse Springer.”

  She winced. “I quite understand. I find the morning talk shows to be beyond painful. Uh, do you have a social security number?”

  I nodded. “Yes, I do. But I’m not giving it to you for the same reason.”

  She sighed, frowned, then nodded quickly. “Well, we do sometimes use anonymous subjects in our research. Just sign the waiver papers with your real name and we’ll be good to go.”

  “Go where?” I asked, standing up.

  She also stood up, showing a flowery dress that seemed a copy of the dress worn by the young train girl’s mom. “Downstairs. To the basement. That’s where the Transcranial Stimulation Lab is located. Let’s go.”

  Professor Claudia Robinson led the way out of her office. I followed, my hands in the pockets of my black hoodie, hoping the images of me on the hallway security cameras showed a normal looking geezer guy.

  The cops did not yet have images of me doing psychic stuff. But once they learned my name and real image they could review video files from the Santa Fe buses, the Rail Runner trains and criminal databases in Santa Fe and Albuquerque. Fortunately I’d never been arrested in New Mexico. And my campus arrest at UCLA was decades in the past.

  I needed to know what had happened to me. Was there a science answer to my new powers? Versus a supernatural ‘touched by the Goddess’ answer. And once I did know something, I had to figure out what to do with my psychic powers. While it would be nice to think of all the bad guys in the world burning up in bright flames or melting into pools of blood and soft flesh, that would make a mess. Millions of dead bodies in places all over the world would cause a stink. Literally. And be an environmental disaster the likes of which would horrify the PC environmental types while terrifying the people in power. The power bosses of the world hated uncertainty. Seeing lots of people fall dead all of a sudden would be the worst kind of uncertainty. Anyway, I had no idea if I could reach out to every bad person in the world and kill them. Frankly, I had no wish to be an avenging angel, or vigilante mysterious. I just wanted to be a little less solitary, hang with my few friends and maybe find a way to connect with my grown kids. And maybe even my ex-wife.

  Were those hopes too much to ask for?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Following Claudia down to the basement, along a narrow hallway and then through a door with a Danger! Radiation sign on it was easy. Deciding to sit in a white chair that was placed directly underneath a rectangular white device with the words Elekta Neuromag printed on it was something else. But at her touch on my back I walked forward and sat down. She gestured for me to lean forward. I did, noticing how all the walls were covered in thin metal plating. I gestured at the wall behind her.

  “What is all that plating?”

  “Magnetic shielding,” she said, reaching down to pick up a matrix of yellow wires and white patches that resembled a woman’s hair net. Except this net was linked by an orange cord to the machine above the solid chair. “Don’t want the Earth’s magnetic field to interfere with your readings.”

  I glanced to one side. I recognized an MRI scanner with its horizontal bed that slide into the circle of an arching device as tall as me. Not far from it was a similar horizontal bed with a round arch. The only way to tell the fact that the second device was a PET scanner was thanks to a manufacturer’s logo. The PET and MRI devices looked nearly identical in shape and function. Elsewhere in the room was a sink with water faucet, a desk in one corner and a wall cabinet above the desk. A large flat screen computer was perched on an arm that connected to metal tubing that ran around the room. The tubing ran into the Neuromag machine that sat above me, the MRI scanner and the PET scanner. Suddenly I felt as if I were a lab rat about to be opened up and examined.

  “Uh, maybe we could do this another day?”

  Claudia smiled. “What? You afraid of my little machines? They won’t hurt you. Though the PET radionuclide will taste sweet when I give it to you. Now, let me attach this SQUID net to your head.”

  I gripped hard the arm rests of the solid white chair and told my heart to stop beating so fast. None of these machines looked like the kind of things that cut into a person. Still, the quietness of the place bothered me. It was too quiet. As Claudia put the net onto my head and pressed down on what felt like dozens of spots, I talked. Talking felt better than just submitting.

  “What does this net thingie do?”

  “Hold still!” She moved to the other side of the chair and resumed touching spots on m
y head. “It helps you recently had a haircut. Attaching the sensor leads to your scalp is easier than on someone with lots of hair.”

  “My question?”

  “Oh.” She stopped moving and stepped back, looking down at me, a twinkle in her eyes as she surveyed my head. “Well, I just finished attaching 102 SQUID devices to your scalp. Each device has three pickup coils, which makes for 306 channels that read your brain’s magnetic field fluctuations.”

  I grimaced. “That tells me nothing. Is this thing like an EEG machine?”

  Claudia reached out to touch the white box above my head with what seemed like a loving touch. “Not really.” She pushed me back until my head was enclosed top and sides within the white box. “Your head is now surrounded by liquid helium contained by a Dewar vessel since SQUID devices only operate at supercold temps.” My armrest grip tightened. “Don’t worry! Your head is not going to freeze!” She chuckled. “Any, the SQUIDs pick up the magnetic fields emitted by brain cells within your brain, at levels far deeper than detected by an EEG. Though the device prints out a pattern of electromagnetic brain emissions, this transcranial alternating current stimulation works best when combined with a PET scan and an MRI scan. The three will produce a three-D image of your brain at all levels that will show any tumors, unusual blood vessel arrangements and lobe asymmetry. Now, close your eyes and let me get my readings.”

  I closed my eyes, told my heart to slow down and chose to focus on the magnolia scent of Claudia. Whether it came from a body lotion or a perfume I didn’t care. Magnolia had been a favorite scent of mine since college when a woman I dated wore it. I heard her walk over to the corner desk, sit down and tap active her computer flat screen.

  “Fascinating. Most remarkable.”

  I opened my right eye. Claudia frowned and looked to me. “Close that eye! I want nothing to interfere with the at-rest readings of your brain. Visual signals interfere with the magfield emissions.”

  I closed my right eye and thought of spanking Claudia. Then I quickly unthought the image. Who knows? Maybe my mind power might have lifted her off her seat and given her invisible spanks?

  “Good enough.”

  She got up and walked over to me. “You can open your eyes. And lean forward so I can detach the SQUID net. Please.”

  Please was a nice word. And Claudia looked good in her casual spring dress. While no cleavage showed, I was not above appreciating the beauty of a smart, competent, professional woman who knew what she was doing. Though my appreciation was similar to that of Mabel, still, I briefly thought Claudia’s husband was a lucky guy. I sat forward.

  I looked up as she held the scalp-net. “Well? Anything show up?”

  “Yes.” She frowned, glanced back at her computer, then back to me. “Normal brain magnetic field emissions are smaller in strength than the Earth’s magnetic field. Typical neural magfield strength is around 10-14T. The Earth’s magfield strength is 10-4T. An MRI scanner operates at 1.5T. All your neural field strengths are 3.1T. And that strength is consistent from your cerebral cortex back to your cerebellum.” She stood back and looked at me. “I have never measured a human neural magnetic field strength as high as yours. Such strength should be impossible for a human brain to emit.”

  I grinned. “Impossible like how I levitated your iPad?”

  She blinked, turning very serious. “Quite. Let’s get you over to the PET scanner.”

  I got up and followed her over to the machine with PET printed on its arch with a hole big enough for a human’s shoulders and head. Sitting down I looked up her. “What does this thing do?”

  Claudia picked up a clear hypodermic filled with liquid. “Well, first I inject you with a sugar-based radionuclide called flurodeoxyglucose. Since your brain uses sugars to power its workings, this nuclide becomes present in all parts of your brain. Active parts of your brain, like the part involved in processing visual signals, will light up once you are within the scanner.” She grabbed my right arm and lifted it.

  “Is this a bad time to tell you I hate needles?”

  A big grin filled her face. “Too late.”

  The needle went in almost painlessly. She was good at giving hypodermic injections. Guess it went with the kind of work she did. At least the SQUID devices did not have to be inserted under the skin of my scalp!

  “Now lay back.”

  I laid back.

  She touched a nearby control panel and the metal pad on which I lay moved toward the arch. Once my head was fully inside the arch it stopped.

  “When does it start working?”

  “Patience,” she said, tapping my right hand, then stepping away.

  Around my head came the sound of metal moving in a track as invisible devices looked at my head, now full of the radionuclide.

  “Patient is what my Mom told me to be when she ordered me to eat broccoli. Which I hate!”

  “A few more moments,” Claudia said. Her voice came from the area of her desk and computer screen. “Fascinating! Incredible. I don’t believe it!”

  Being a research subject was not fun. She got to know what was happening while I got to be ignorant of whatever she found incredible. “Explain. Now!”

  “Oh.” I refrained from looking her way since that would have disturbed my head placement. “Well, Jack Hansen, a normal PET scan shows brain areas which are active show up as bright red or orange spots on a scan. Low active or inactive areas are blue. Your . . . your entire brain is bright red! There is not one spot which is inactive. Your brain is using an incredible amount of energy!”

  Great. “Well, that explains my super appetite right after my encounter yesterday.” I explained how I’d been so hungry after the mugger encounter, being careful to give no details like it being four muggers, one of whom melted and another who burned like a bonfire. “And I’m feeling a bit hungry peevish right now.”

  “Well,” she said, moving in her wheeled chair to look my way. “That makes sense. You used mind energy this morning to set fire to my tissue and to levitate my iPad. A normal adult brain uses 20 percent of a body’ energy to power it. Babies and young children use a larger percentage because the brain is still growing.” I felt the rest pad moving as it pulled me out from under the PET arch. I saw Claudia in her wheeled chair, sitting close to the PET machine. Her chin rested on her right hand while her left hand fingers tapped an armrest. Her expression was a mix of excitement, puzzlement and intense focus. “Jack, your brain has reversed that percentage. My guess, based on the transcranial readings and the PET imagery of your active brain is that your mind is now using 40 percent of your body’s energy.”

  I sat up. “Well, did your PET scan show anything weird about my brain structure?”

  She shrugged. “What I just told you is weird enough. Here, get under the MRI and we’ll get a full three-D image of all lobes and portions of your brain. That will give me the final piece to your mind puzzle.”

  I did as directed, again feeling like a two-legged rat. Going under the arch of the MRI was simple and did not hurt. But I was feeling hungry despite the bacon and pancakes I’d eaten this morning at the Café Loco. When the pad pulled me out, I sat up. Then went to stand beside Claudia as she touched her flat screen and moved various images into positions on her 30 inch wide screen. She looked up at me, her expression intent. And maybe a little worried.

  “Jack, there are five major lobes in the human brain. The combined PET, MRI and transcranial scans show three of your lobes are . . . are abnormal.” My quick frown made her talk fast. “No tumors! Which is the good news. Your blood flow in all lobes is better than normal. If anything, some of your blood vessels are more branched than what is commonly found.”

  “The lobes. Three you said. What do they show?”

  Claudia licked her lips, then pointed at one of the images on her screen. “Well, your frontal lobe or cortex controls smell, speech, motor control, planning, problem solving and concentration. It is one-tenth larger than normal and the PET energy flows in
it are massive. Your parietal lobe handles touch, pressure, taste and body awareness. It too is ten percent larger than normal. Wow. The PET energy flow is bigger! And your rear occipital lobe is greatly enlarged! It controls vision imaging and processing. Your cerebellum and temporal lobes are normal size, though PET energy flows are much higher than usual. Overall, your brain is one-tenth larger than normal.” She turned serious. “That is the limit for expansion within your skull. Are you having headaches?”

  I thought hard. Then shook my head. “No. Nope. I rarely get headaches.”

  “Good!” she said hurriedly, looking back to her flat screen. “Soooo fascinating.”

  I tapped her on her left shoulder. “What does any of what you said relate to how and why I now have psychic powers?”

  Claudia sat back in her wheeled chair and looked up at me. Her eyes sparkled. Her face showed excitement. “It means there is nothing organically wrong with your brain. It also means you use lots of energy when using your . . . powers. So, eat regularly. And keep candy bars handy. You could pass out from a low blood sugar level.”

  I knew that from my Café Loco times. Bald-headed Leroy was diabetic and had injected insulin to maintain proper blood sugar levels for about 20 years now. He often tested his blood sugar level with a small device before ordering breakfast. Sometimes he would inject himself with insulin before eating. Maybe I would need to buy a blood test kit.

  “I understand. So, these powers are natural?”

  She shook her head, her blond curls swinging softly in the white light of the lab room. “I didn’t say that. I said there is no disease showing in your brain. But the larger lobes, increased blood supply and massively strong neural magnetic fields are not normal. I suspect all of those elements are associated with your psychic powers.”

  I sighed, looked at the clock, saw it was 1 p.m. and decided taking care of hunger was worth doing soon.

  “So, is my condition genetic or supernatural?”