by Mark Goode
Although the secrets of the brain are studied intensely, we are a very long way from understanding this supercomputer and the seat of our consciousness. That is, the laws of neurophysiology cannot currently and possibly may never be described by a set of equations. If that were accomplished, the equations would certainly be highly complex, multivariable, and nonlinear.
Because chaos has been shown somewhat ubiquitous and present in some biological systems, as well as in electronic circuits and communication systems, it is reasonable to assume that it exists in the brain, too. Here, we take poetic license and use chaos to broadly signify disorder in the brain.
The brain and nervous system are made up of cells called neurons (shown below).
You may recall from your high school biology class the general structure and function of a neuron. These nerve cells have a cell body, multiple arms known as dendrites, and tails, known as axons, which can extend from head to toe in our bodies. Communication between neurons occurs at their contact points, or synapses, via chemicals known as neurotransmitters. Neurons typically have numerous synaptic connections and constantly integrate signals before “deciding” to pass them along to other neurons in higher brain centers for additional processing.
Early brain maps were based on observations of patients who had suffered brain injuries. The location of the injury was correlated with the resulting behavioral deficits. For example, the temporal lobe became known as the speech center, and the occipital lobe, the vision center, because patients with injuries to those areas demonstrated language and visual problems, respectively. Researchers obtained further information during open brain surgery. A link was established between movement of a body part and stimulation of a particular brain area, resulting in refinement of the brain map.
Although the anatomically distinct parts of the brain are extremely important, the functions of the brain are interdependent and achieved by networking.
We appear to be greater than the sum of our parts. This concept is not better illustrated than by the development of consciousness in the brain. A tremendous amount of preprocessing of a myriad of sensory data occurs in lower brain structures. Some of this information processing is hardwired. In higher brain centers, filters such emotion are applied. Miraculously, how the data is processed can be changed by the process of learning, whereby the brain actually “rewires” itself. Information is then relayed according to its relative importance.
conceptual Brain Network
Critical information is fast-tracked by the network to the executive processor, which “decides” what is pertinent to use in the construction of the model of the universe that we perceive as consciousness. It is as if the brain is constructing a movie in real time for an audience of one, that being ourselves.
One could ask the logical question of where in the brain consciousness resides. The short answer is everywhere because the many areas are connected, sharing information and forming networks. The executive network, however, is thought to be intimately related to the function of the prefrontal cerebral cortex.
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The brain lab
Come in for a tune-up?
Just as it is common to access an automobile’s computer via the diagnostic port, which allows interrogation of diagnosis codes and facilitates repairs, at Reset.com we access the brain via an optical nerve interface, which provides a high-speed, high-bandwidth connection that provides diagnostic information on brain function.
In the Brain Lab, we can “observe consciousness.” By accessing the visual and auditory areas of the brain, we can watch and display the formation of consciousness in the brain as played out like a film on a screen. We then compare that version of the consciousness movie to the real, test, or control movie. We can also evaluate how the brain, via its movie of consciousness, responds to manipulation of the network parameters.
In our simple laboratory, we designate five network functions and assign each a color, red, orange, yellow, green, and blue. A test picture with known network parameters (percentages of each network) is displayed on a screen. The consciousness movie from the brain under study is then accessed via the optic nerve interface and displayed and compared to the control.
We use proprietary tools, which might include external magnetic controls, brain stimulators, medications, or even pheromones to manipulate the network functions of the brain under study. We know that brain is in tune when the consciousness movie matches the reference movie. For example, if the reference movie displays an image of a bouquet of roses, but the brain under study produces pictures of dandelions, the brain would be considered to be out of tune. We manipulate the network until the test subject also visualizes roses. When “everything is coming up roses,” we know we’ve given the brain a tune-up.
The point is that the various areas of the brain work together as a network, and healthy function and balance are a reflection of how well the brain areas are playing together. Certainly, when we view the brain as a complex supercomputer that processes reams of data, performs trillions of calculations, and outputs the results to govern our bodies and create consciousness, we understand there are many opportunities to develop chaos.
At Reset.com, we view chaos as both cause and effect. The imbalance can develop internally, such as when the brain is malfunctioning or the person is sick, or the chaos could be a response to the environment, such as triggered by experience, training, or circumstance. Our goal is to diagnose the presence of brain imbalance, or chaos, and work to make an out-of-tune brain less vulnerable and more responsive to therapies that help restore balance and optimal function.
One can speculate what the ramifications are of living with a brain that is out of tune.
Humans are very resilient and adaptable, like an automobile we can function with a certain amount of “deferred maintenance” — perhaps a burned-out taillight, worn windshield wipers, excessive tire wear — tolerable for the short term. However, should we have to navigate a dangerous rocky road occasionally, the “wheels come off”! High-performance features and extreme conditions only act to increase the likelihood of such a calamity. The following story illustrates our concept of an “auto-destruct sequence” we postulate will occur under a perfect storm of circumstance.
Chapter 4
Grandmother Got
Arrested
The headline spread across the billboards:
Prominent scientist under investigation for role in death of soldiers.
The wire crackled with news:
New developments today in investigation of mass deaths in the water wars
CARBON CITY, CO. — Authorities have linked battlefield evidence of mass suicide to Global Recarbon Laboratory, the organization funded by the Global Climate Initiative, with partners in government, industry, and education.
Federal agents arrived at the laboratory in Carbon City with a warrant for records. Principal investigator Angela Starr is to be indicted. Yet, in a strange twist of fate, Starr was recently hospitalized Wednesday, July 4th, with a stroke and remains comatose.
Spokesperson for the defendant denied all allegations. The judge has ruled the defendant an unlikely flight risk.
—
The temperature was 39°C in Reykjavik, home of the New World Court. Ordinarily, citizens would have been out celebrating the autumnal equinox, looking forward to the cooler, shorter days of autumn. But the crowd extended perhaps a kilometer in all directions from the imposing building, and the traffic, another beyond that. Security forces struggled to control the crowds.
No one really knew what to think. The prevailing opinion was that the defendant, Angela Starr, should be held accountable for crimes against humanity for the death of millions in the global conflict of the World Water Wars.
Court had been in session for months. Although the proceedings were broadcast, there were no public appearances of the defendant, who, showing signs of neurologic recovery was shuttled secretly between
venues by security forces and her doctors.
In the United States, the Water Wars had raged between the Federalist government establishment, an industrial pro-development administration trying to gain control over and capture operation and management of water resources, and the Aquaterrians (AQNS), an ideologically independent groups of engineers, farmers, and politicians who had developed and managed the water infrastructure for hundreds of years.
This tit-for-tat civil war had played out in remarkably similar fashion around the world. Although the ideology was the same, differences appeared largely as a result of regional geography and who controlled water resources at the source. In the United States, this war had been simmering for years, as the not-so-opposing forces of the Federalists and the AQNS would capture, lose, and recapture access to management of natural resources, storage systems, and distribution lines for the precious commodity of water.
The Federalists likened the battle to an extermination, with a goal of ridding the planet of its AQNS infestation embedded in the water infrastructure without irreparably damaging water resources.
The AQNS, on the other side, harbored deep resentment toward the Federalist establishment policy of resource taxation and unrestrained growth at the expense of the environment. Geologists had termed this new era the Age of Concrete, which had become the most common rock on the planet.
Paradise had been paved. The glacial rivers of ice that once descended Denali had vanished, replaced by rivers of concrete delivering tourists to the majestic mountain. The grizzly bear, caribou, and Dal sheep had died out and were now only visible in the visitor center museum.
The world struggled mightily with the calamitous aftermath of the Water Wars. The agonizing loss of a loved one in war could only be exceeded by the trauma of families living with the reality that the final theater was not that of a courageous march onto the battlefield but into the chaos of suicide. Like all families struggling with the aftermath of suicide, unable to say goodbye, they prayed for deliverance from this hell that could only come from a tangible explanation.
Chapter 5
I Should Have Seen
It Coming
Genealogy can be difficult to trace in our fast-paced society. I might have thought that the digital age would have made record keeping easier, but it’s still easy to lose track of people. Proponents of the written word were onto something. How many backups does a backup need for the backup to remain backed up? Stone tablets are good for thousands of years; quality ink and special paper, well cared for, perhaps a few centuries. Electronic media depends on so many factors it’s necessary to re-archive the archive frequently. Obsolescence is a real problem: an archive is useless if the hardware no longer exists to read the storage media. Nonetheless, I have always had an interest in our family’s history and have been able to trace — online as well as with my grandfather Jack Jennings’s oral recountings — our ancestry back four generations, to my great-great-grandparents, Clyde and Hettie.
In his later years, Grandpa Jack enjoyed spending hours upon hours recalling scenes from his youth and talking about his own grandparents, who were some of the last mountain farmers in Grand County. He rehashed these events so often, like the one below, it was easy for me to piece together the formative episodes that propelled him toward his decisive role in the Water Wars and beyond.
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“When will it ever end?” said Clyde, reading the letter from the ditch company aloud in an angry and mocking tone:
Dear Valued Customer,
We appreciate partnering with you to preserve our valuable water resources. Unfortunately, we find ourselves burdened with continued rising costs associated providing water to our customers.
This necessitates an increase in your monthly bill in the form of a 20-percent surcharge.
We are confident that further conservation measures will be helpful and allow us to serve additional customers as they move into the region.
“Blah, blah, blah-blah-blah blah. Hooey!,” he said in disgust. “Remember, son, nobody is looking out for us farmers. We have to take care of ourselves.”
Clyde tossed the letter onto the picnic table and threw his legs up along the length of the bench. “Nobody cares about a farmer unless they’re starving. Better get an education, son — go to school and become a lawyer,” he said. “Study water law. That’s where the money is. This letter is proof,” he said, tapping the papers with a gnarled finger. “They want to raise prices, asking us to be good stewards, bearing the burden with our wallets and additional conservation measures, so that they can continue relentless development and make more money! As important as a comfortable home is, you haven’t seen anything compared to what people will do for a drink of water.”
—
This scenario became commonplace as the world heated up and the water dried up and generations of farmers grew tired and were unable to sustain their family farms. Younger people my age were less interested in being a slave to the farming lifestyle. They wanted to venture out and explore new horizons. Ultimately, aging farmers like my grandparents, Clyde and Hettie were unable to pass their operations along to their children and grandchildren and were faced with the necessity of liquidating their farms as a means of funding retirement.
Of course, the land and equipment were tangible assets, but it was the water that was most valuable. Since the beginning, complex allocation formulas had been built into the process of establishing who had priority and first place in line at the headwaters. It was not unusual for developers and municipalities to purchase the water rights owned by the farmers as a means of guaranteeing supply of water for continuing growth and development.
To further protect an area’s water supply, it became desirable to acquire it at the source, from unpolluted rivers and streams. Large, multi-billion-dollar water projects with massive pipelines reaching thirsty tentacles high into the mountains became the domain of politicians and businesspersons and speculators.
Growing food to feed the planet became the business of large corporate farming giants. Salt-of-the-earth farmers like my grandfather Clyde, faced with the reality that their way of life was no longer sustainable, were forced to sell first their water rights and then their property to provide income and plan retirement. The land dried up, got subdivided, and got developed.
Clyde kept about 10 acres for the farmhouse and the barn, where the AQNS logo was burned prominently into the gable end just above the doors. Clyde was one of the original stewards and protectors of the Three Lakes Watershed, so when he lost his farm’s water rights, it was a blow to the core of his being.
Our family stayed on the central acreage. My parents, Dale and Virginia, lived there for a few more years until my mother finally gave up, unable to cope with Dad’s alcoholism and depression.
My grandmother, Hettie, had struggled for years, her body ravaged by the disease of multiple sclerosis. Initially, doctors thought she may have had a stroke, but they did not find much evidence of that on the MRI scan, just a little swelling or thickening of the brain stem, they thought.
Around the time when my grandfather sold the last subdivision of the back acres, Grandma Hettie started having problems quilting, then trouble walking. Soon she was in a wheelchair, and Grandpa Clyde cared for her 24/7. She was the love of his life. He was a big, strong, kind-hearted man and could easily carry her up the flight of stairs to their bedroom.
He tended her to the end, and she died at home, as she had requested. She is buried in a stand of old cottonwood trees that bordered what used to be a stream. At that time, water trickled through the stream bed occasionally as Grandpa had kept a few shares of water to irrigate a small, one-acre tree farm.
After Grandma passed, he spent most of his time out there with his yellow lab, Rusty. The two of them tended the trees, and every day he visited his wife’s grave and read her poetry. He steadily lost weight, probably about 20 pounds after
a while, and wasn’t interested in food very much. He said he was not hungry.
Previously a farmer, my dad mostly working at the local AQNS co-op, repairing tractors and farm equipment. Mom was still around and kept fairly busy, on and off the farm quite often. She volunteered at the local shelter as a cook. She had a number of gal friends and they frequently went on walks together.
One day, she returned home to find Clyde sitting on the porch crying with his dog Rusty. Rusty was unable to walk. They loaded him into the truck and headed to the veterinarian.
It wasn’t good news: Rusty had a fractured leg, but no history of trauma. Further X-rays revealed multiple spots on his lungs. The veterinarian thought that the broken leg was caused by a bone tumor and that the cancer had already spread. They placed a cast on his leg for temporary relief, but it was a somber evening, with everyone sitting around knowing Rusty was out of time.
A few days later the veterinarian came out to the house and euthanized the dog. She took him back to town to have him cremated and later returned with his ashes, along with some plaster castings of his paw prints. Grandpa silently spread his ashes out on what remained of the farm.
My own father wasn’t doing well himself. We took him to the doctor, and he was placed on an antidepressant. The medication seemed to help for a while, as he seemed more interested in going out and actually spent some time with his friends. But the days were growing shorter and winter was soon upon us.