by Doug Welch
* * *
I awoke to an empty bed and stretched. My body felt ready for lovemaking but since no Elizabeth lay beside me to fulfill my need, I squelched it with a will.
Then I remembered her with me last night. It didn't help.
After a while, I crawled out of bed and went to the bathroom.
I emerged, fully dressed and looked for company. Hearing voices coming from the living room, I went to join them. As soon as I entered, the conversation ceased.
“Good morning. Did everyone sleep well?” I was met with an uncomfortable silence. “Okay, what’s the cold shoulder routine all about?”
Alex spoke up. “While you were sleeping this morning, I read some of Dad's journals, particularly the required warning labels. You know the 'don't try this at home' variety? We've been discussing the stupid idea you proposed last night and we’ve come to the conclusion that you’re a freaking idiot.”
Elizabeth’s face held a look of fear. “Paris, there must be a better solution. I don't want you risking your sanity or life in this crazy effort. I can't lose you. I just can't.”
The room fell silent. “How about you, Edward?” I said.
He shrugged. “I don't have much life left. I'd try it, because I haven't much to lose, but you and Beth have a lifetime to live. If I were in your position son, I wouldn't attempt it. At least, not without careful preparation.”
I looked at Caesar. It was hard to read him. He finally spoke. “Wild horses couldn't drag me into that room, Paris and I’ve forbidden Alexandra to attempt it. I'm not going to risk her.” Alex glowered at him and he glowered back. After a few exchanges of unrelenting looks, she sighed and slouched in her seat. I suspected that the discussion on gender roles last night had not been all one-sided.
“Well, contrary to the comments concerning my intelligence and lack of leadership ability, I refer of course to my 'stupid' and 'idiot' status,” I said, nodding to Alex, “I decided last night that none of us could hope to complete the requirements in the short time we have available. To do so would court disaster.”
“Therefore, I’d like to present the following compromise. Edward, you, Beth and Caesar would require the months of preparation and exercise Dad had, to be able to attempt the smallest of these mind training exercises, because you’re normal human beings.
“Alex and I, on the other hand, have a unique genetic heritage that may make the tasks easier, and the results more effective. Therefore, I propose that either Alex or I attempt the exercises that have the least risk associated with them, and if we succeed, we can all discuss our next step together.” I waited.
“That sounds reasonable,” Edward said. “Do we get to pick the exercises involved?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Then I have no objection.”
“Caesar?”
“I don't want Alexandra at risk,” he said.
“No problem, since I'm the one who’ll try it.”
“Whoa, wait just a damn minute,” Alex said. She turned to look at Caesar “Boundaries, lover, boundaries. Remember? We agreed?” He looked angry, but didn't answer. She turned again to face me. “Either you or me, Paris, that's the deal.” She crossed her arms, and sat back in her chair.
“What about me? Do I get a say in this discussion?” Elizabeth sounded irritated.
I cringed. Any wrong response was littered with more emotional land mines than I had ever faced in Iraq. I quickly decided that retreat was the better option.
“Doctor Rowan has the floor.” I sat down.
Beth looked a little startled, but she stood up.
“I think you all know my opinion. However, for the sake of argument, let's suppose that what you want to attempt is real. If that’s true, then you are asking me to risk the sanity or health of either my future husband, or sister-in-law. Neither choice is acceptable.” Although a little woman, when she had her Doctor Rowan persona on, she seemed to stand six feet tall and breathe fire. None of us dared challenge her. “The only way I will agree to this experiment is if I am medically monitoring the participant, and if, in my professional judgment, this exercise poses a threat to their well-being, I can stop it.”
A rapid chorus of 'You bet' – 'agreed' – 'absolutely' – 'Certainly' replies stumbled across each other in near unison. She sat back down.
“Alright. Beth, what do you need to monitor me?” I asked.
“Stop.” Alex said. “You're not getting away with that. We haven't decided who’ll attempt it yet.”
I had hoped to stampede the group to avoid endangering Alex, even though I knew it would be a fruitless hope.
I sighed. “Okay, Alex. I suggest we choose randomly.”
She grinned. “Okay, how about rocks, paper, scissors?”
“No way, Sis, you cheat.”
Alex stuck out her lower lip. “I do not.”
“Yes you do.” Caesar interjected, before I could say it.
“I suggest a coin toss,” I said.
She smiled. “Good idea. I just happen to have a coin in my pocket...”
“No. Caesar will choose the coin and he will toss it,” I said.
She looked stubborn, but didn't object.
“I get to call it,” she said.
“Agreed,” I replied.
Caesar extracted a coin from his jeans and poised it on his thumb. He waited for her to call the flip.
“Tails,” she said.
The coin spun in the air and landed on the carpet.
“Heads,” Caesar said. He looked relieved.
Alex glanced around at the group. She looked ready to protest, but apparently seeing no support; she acquiesced and said, “Okay, Paris tries it first.”
Beth and I went down to the basement alone. She brought the picnic basket containing the medical equipment she’d removed from her house.
We sat, yoga-style, on one of the area carpets, while she removed items from the basket. She held up two little round disks with wires attached.
“These are heart monitors.”
She removed another item.
“This is to monitor your pulse and blood pressure.”
Last, she removed a small plastic box. “This is to connect it all so I can monitor it remotely. Edward wears one. I will be using this,” she held out a complex looking display, “to check your vital signs. Don't do anything stupid, Paris. It would devastate me to lose you.”
I didn't reply. My mind battled conflicting emotions. I felt guilty for risking myself, knowing that if something went wrong she would be hurt beyond reason. But if I didn't try, the horror that she might experience from my failure could deprive her of her sanity.
She removed a razor and some gel to shave the hair from my chest. I watched her while she worked. “Beth, do you believe in life after death?”
She looked up from her work and said, “What? Why are you asking that question now?” She looked panicked.
“It's nothing to do with the room.” I indicated the hidden room.
“A while ago, when we were trying to crack that computer, I sensed something in the study. It seemed to guide me to the answers. It was as though my father was present, helping me. I've never felt anything like that before.”
“I don't know,” she replied, “as a doctor, I've seen a lot of death and dying, most of it painful and demeaning. But sometimes, as in the case of your mother, death seems to transcend all of the suffering and seems almost noble. After being with you, and experiencing you,” her eyes grew moist, “I hope that the universe is not cruel enough to ever separate us.”
I stroked her hair and her face. “I love you, Beth.”
She choked back her tears. “If we don't stop this, I'll never get you ready.”
“Yes, doctor.”
Once I was prepared to her satisfaction, I entered the room and opened the journals to the exercises that the group had agreed upon.
Most of the tasks required a darkened room and the aid of the video projector. The projector
displayed images on the far wall, and I was required by the instructions to make sense of the images.
The journals provided insight as to the process and the expected outcome. After having read them, I’d started to gain an appreciation of how much of a genius my father really was.
Although the focus of the physicists was on finding and tapping the communications medium, he had dismissed that as being immaterial.
The medium existed, so use it.
The question was, how did the Shadows influence the minds of others and how could they influence another person's mind to act according to their desires?
Dad had a wealth of knowledge gleaned from Professor Bowles and other scientists, and the insight he had acquired from his own specialty.
He reasoned that the Shadow’s brains were able to obscure the pattern recognition area of the visual cortex, thereby rendering a normal brain incapable of interpreting the outline of the Shadow as a human being. This required two skills. First, the Shadow had to sense his or her pattern in the mind of a normal human, and second, the Shadow must create a counter pattern to fool the recognition field.
He postulated that the Shadow's brains had acquired this ability genetically, and could accomplish it as a reflexive action, but what about a normal brain?
Could it learn to recognize, generate and project a pattern?
He speculated that the communications link existed in the quantum effects of the micro-tubular structures in the neurons of all human brains but a normal brain was unable to filter the pattern from the background noise, and therefore, could not sense it.
A large body of anecdotal information existed concerning people who’d had episodes of sensing something was about to occur. Sometimes, this six-sense spanned distant geographical locations.
Was it possible that by random chance, the person's brain had tuned into another pattern?
Could the ability be prevalent in all types of humans, but only expressed in the Shadows?
If so, it might mean that by training their mind, normal humans could emulate the Shadow's genetic ability.
Dad had started by forcing his brain to define patterns. This effort was the focus of the first series of exercises in the journal.
The images were similar to the picture that Gordon had shown us, but the requirement was not to see either Albert Einstein or Marilyn Monroe, but to see both as one.
I sailed through the journals easily, toppling each of exercises, one by one, and my confidence increased geometrically. I began to feel a change.
With a guilty feeling, I ventured into those areas identified as dangerous.
The journals warned that the brain contained a limited energy source.
If it concentrated overlong on a given task or worse yet, became locked in a feedback loop, the result could exhaust the brain's energy by converting excessive amounts of glucose to feed brain activity, forcing the nerve activity to cease and thereby rendering the victim comatose or dead. It was similar to the sugar crash experienced by overlarge doses of insulin, but much worse.
The only remedy was an immediate injection of glucose to restore brain activity.
I felt powerful, I felt my mind changing, establishing new patterns, and rejoicing with each triumph.
Soon the exercises became more difficult, more abstract.
Near the end of the journals, I strained to accomplish each task.
About to quit, I decided on one more effort.