Fragments

by James F. David

  Daphne paced the room, pounding away at the keyboard in her mind. I won’t remember, I won’t! But in saying it she realized she did remember—her conscious mind now pained by what had tortured her soul most of her life. The pain was unbearable, and she fell down on her bed sobbing.

  Wes asked the Birnbaums to stay and they put them in Len’s room for the night. Ralph carried the motorized wheelchair up the stairs and then returned for Dr. Birnbaum. “You’re not as heavy as some people. That’s because you’re missing some parts, isn’t it?” Dr. Birnbaum laughed, and Karla Birnbaum beamed at Wes. At least some good is coming out of this, Wes thought.

  With the Birnbaums settled, Wes found Elizabeth standing outside Daphne’s door. As he approached he could hear crying. Elizabeth shushed him when he started to speak, and took his arm, leading him down the stairs. He warmed at her touch, and found he was less anxious. At the bottom she let go, but he reached out, taking her hand. She squeezed his hand in response, and they sat on the couch, sides touching, still holding hands.

  Wes waited silently, enjoying the feel of Elizabeth next to him. He was concerned about Daphne, but selfishly didn’t want the moment with Elizabeth to pass. It was a few minutes before she spoke, releasing his hand and then rocking sideways to look at him.

  “Daphne is very upset.”

  “She has good reason to be.”

  “Yes, but this isn’t simple grief. She’s suffering terribly.”

  “Is she worried that Gil will come back?”

  “No, this is personal pain. Daphne’s never been like the other savants. Luis, Yu, and Archie are true savants in that they are retarded in all areas except where they have their special ability. Ralph is retarded in the same sense. In most cases like Ralph, something goes wrong in prenatal development, and the brain gets wired wrong; intellectual functions are depressed. In savants, though, another wiring fluke gives them their special ability. But there’s another developmental path to becoming a savant, and Daphne took it. Daphne isn’t retarded at all in the usual sense, and her special ability is more of a defense mechanism.”

  “It’s a real ability.”

  “Certainly, but I suspect calendar-counting didn’t come naturally to her. She uses it to keep from thinking about something else. Did you ever have a song that popped into your head unpredictably? Most people have. That song isn’t just some random tune, it serves an important function. It keeps you from thinking about something else. When something from your unconscious comes bubbling up—something anxiety producing—here comes the song to fill your mind, leaving no space for the uncomfortable thought. Daphne uses music that way, and calendar-counting. Let me put it in computer terms for you. Imagine how much RAM it would take to solve Daphne’s calendar problems.”

  Wes knew a simple program could solve those problems, but understood the point. For the human mind to calculate as she did would take every available space in memory.

  “Daphne developed calendar-counting by focusing her abilities on the task. She could do this because she’s autistic. She doesn’t care about the world, and can shut it out, leaving every bit of her mind to solving the problem. We could do the same thing if we wanted to sacrifice all social contact.”

  “In some ways that’s what I did, Elizabeth,” Wes confessed. “I’ve done nothing but study and do research since I entered college. I had friends, but they were psychology majors, like me, equally focused. I even got most of my general-education classes waived. I thought art, history, and literature were a waste of time. Besides, I knew if I could publish as an undergraduate it would give me an advantage. It did. Graduate school was the same. The grants came easy after that, and this project is career-making research—at least it was. You see, I was just as focused as Daphne.”

  “You didn’t sacrifice everything. You have friends. Len and you get along well.”

  “We only see each other in the lab. I don’t think I knew what I was missing until we became like a family here. And when we lost Luis it hurt like he was my own child.”

  They were silent then and Elizabeth moved back over, leaning against Wes. His arm was in a cast or he would have put it around her, willing to risk rejection, but unwilling to hide his feelings anymore.

  Standing against the wall, Gil peeked out, then flattened back. The policeman was sitting reading a book. Preferring to take the policeman by surprise, Gil wanted him to come in. A nurse would check on him at some point but when she did the policeman would be on his guard, knowing how dangerous Gil could be. Besides, the nurse might not come until morning—maybe with the morning rounds. It would be crowded then and that could work for him, but he couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t come to transfer him to prison first thing.

  Instead, Gil leaned against the wall, looking out the window on the far side. It was covered with wire to prevent escape, even though they were three stories up. It gave him an idea. Picturing a battering ram, he focused his anger and his power, then pushed hard. The window shattered, sending the screen flying into space. Then he hugged the wall, waiting.

  The lock rattled; then the door handle turned, the policeman rushing in with gun drawn, running straight to the window. Gil could have left, but his anger was honest. He hated the policeman—he was one of those who had imprisoned him and he would make him pay.

  “Looking for me!” he said.

  Startled, the policeman turned slowly. Gil enjoyed the look of terror on his face. When his gun came up, Gil hit him in the chest, driving him through the empty window frame. He screamed all the way to the ground.

  Gil turned to leave and ran into a nurse. He lashed out, knocking her back through the door. In the hall more people were running and he cleared the hall, knocking them down like bowling pins. Then he spotted an exit and ran toward it, throwing shock waves ahead of him and sending carts racing down the hall, crashing into people and walls. Running barefoot in his hospital gown, he pounded down the stairs toward freedom.

  Elizabeth picked up the phone before Wes, but he hung on, listening to the conversation.

  “He got away about an hour ago. It will be light soon. If he isn’t out of town already, he’ll probably hide like he did before, maybe until night. We’ll try to get some more dogs and go after him but it’s been raining pretty good.”

  “Did anyone get hurt?”

  “Yeah. One of my people is dead. I have to tell you he’s killing this town—literally. Everyone’s related to everyone else, or knows someone. Most of them had families.” Then, a long pause, where Wes could feel his pain. “My department’s not that big—everyone is either scared or out for revenge. I’m not saying we’re going to shoot him on sight, it’s just that my people are pretty upset. Anything could happen—just keep Ralph away this time.”

  Roy was being honest—there was little chance Gil would be taken alive. Wes understood and found he had few qualms about killing Gil; in fact, he found himself thinking, The sooner the better.

  “He knows he’s got to get out of town as soon as he can,” Roy said. “If you’re worried I can have one of my people stay with you.”

  “Thanks, but I know you’re shorthanded. I’ll feel safer when he’s caught, and you need everyone for the search.”

  “Yeah. Thanks. The state police are helping, and we’ve got volunteers coming in from other departments.”

  “Do you still want to talk to Dr. Birnbaum?”

  “It’s too late for that, but would you folks stand by to do that trance thing? I don’t want any more of my people hurt.”

  Wes hung up after they did, wondering how safe they really were. Would Frankie let Gil get away?

  He couldn’t go back to sleep, so he showered and then started a pot of coffee. Elizabeth was there just as it finished the drip cycle.

  “Gil escaped.”

  “I know, I listened in.”

  “Is there anything we can do?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it. We could be proactive. Let’s put Frankie together again. Maybe we can fi
nd Gil through Frankie.”

  “How? Frankie took control of Gil last time.”

  “Frankie might not know the danger and come out in public. But there’s another way. We can put someone into the matrix—one of the team.”

  “But wouldn’t they become part of Frankie?”

  “I can adjust the program. I might be able to keep them conscious.”

  Wes watched Elizabeth’s face, knowing she would realize the danger.

  “But that would put two minds in one person. I can’t imagine what that would be like. The psychological stress would be enormous.”

  “I’ll keep the contact brief. If we can integrate Frankie then we’ll insert the informer briefly to see if they can sense where Frankie is.”

  Elizabeth looked thoughtful a minute, then said, “I’ll do it.”

  “No. It’s my idea. I’ll do it.”

  “It doesn’t make sense for you to go in. Without Len you’re needed more than ever. You know I’m the only one who can be spared.”

  “We could send Ralph.”

  “It wouldn’t be ethical. He’s not capable of making an informed choice.”

  Wes hesitated, carefully wording what he wanted to say next. “Elizabeth, Ralph might fare better sharing a mind, since . . . well, he has space in a sense. Besides, he has a lot less to lose than you do.”

  Wes knew if he had said that when they first met she would have been offended, but now she stared back with kind eyes.

  “Ralph’s mind is complex in its own way, and even if it is simpler you can’t judge human worth on IQ. If we used him, and something went wrong, I couldn’t forgive myself.”

  Wes wanted to say he wouldn’t forgive himself if Elizabeth were harmed either, but instead he nodded his head. “I better get started on modifying the program.” Knowing Elizabeth was the one taking the risks motivated him to make it as safe as he possibly could.

  Daphne sat motionless on her bed, her hands in her lap. She’d cried herself out, the sobs finally subsiding to sporadic tremors. She stared out her window, seeing only the tops of trees, but in her mind she replayed the violent scene over and over. She could see the body flying across the room and hitting the wall, and then the head being slammed against the wall over and over. When the body was finally a lifeless pile, the image replayed. It began with the anger, and the pain, and then came the pounding and again the body flying across the room hitting the wall. She’d been replaying the scenes all night long, and as she did her sadness deepened but at the same time the swirling storm that was her mind slowed and gradually dissipated into order. She could visit her memories now, and the world around her, without fear, without confusion. But the price was pain and guilt. And sadness. Sadness greater than she felt even at Grammy’s death.

  A knock she didn’t answer announced Elizabeth, who came in tentatively, walking around to face her. When Daphne made eye contact surprise spread across Elizabeth’s face.

  “Daphne, can I help?”

  “No.”

  “Would you like to talk?”

  “I can’t now. Maybe later.”

  “Do you still blame yourself for what happened?”

  “It is my fault.”

  “What Gil did had nothing to do with you, and anything that happens next won’t either.”

  “What happens next?” Daphne asked, fearful of the answer.

  “Gil got out of the hospital. They’re looking for him again.”

  The image of the body flying through the air haunted her. “I don’t want any more people hurt!”

  “Daphne, it’s not your fault, and there’s nothing you can do.”

  Daphne shook her head; then her lips tightened and her eyes narrowed. She couldn’t let it happen, but she was afraid of losing control if she tried to help.

  “There’s nothing we can do,” Elizabeth said. “We’re not letting Ralph go near him either.”

  Daphne stared defiantly, her jaw set in determination.

  “Do you hear me? There’s nothing you can do,” Elizabeth repeated.

  “I hear you,” she said, making no commitment. Then, turning, she stared out the window, signaling Elizabeth to leave—but Elizabeth stayed.

  “Daphne, we are going to do something and I think you should know about it because it involves you. When we run the experiment, we mix together pieces of your mind and the others, and we get a new mind called Frankie.”

  Daphne had heard the explanation before, but guessed there was more to it.

  “Yesterday when I wasn’t here, they ran the experiment because Gil is part of Frankie. When a part of you is Frankie, then Frankie is in control. It’s the same with Gil. We thought that if Frankie was in control that Gil would stop hurting people. It worked. We want to do that again—turn Gil into Frankie. Are you willing to do that? It is one way you can help.”

  “No one asked me before, why now?”

  “Because you’re different now. Don’t you feel different?”

  Daphne did feel different—her center was pain now, not confusion. But Elizabeth was right, it was a way to help, and until she knew a better way, she would cooperate. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

  Elizabeth thanked her, then reluctantly left. Daphne sat at the window, thinking about the past and the future, afraid of both. Then she stretched out on the bed, trying to relax, but revisiting the painful image of the head pounding against the wall. She was tired, and exhausted, her body’s defenses running constantly to ward off the effects of her anxiety. Forcing herself to think of other things, she let her consciousness skip from thought to thought. Soon she didn’t have to force her mind to change images, and her consciousness flowed past, and then, like crossing a stream by jumping from rock to rock, she carefully picked out good thoughts, standing on those, letting the painful memories flow around her. Then she heard a distant voice—alluring, promising protection from the pain around her. Turning her mind’s eye, seeking the voice, she skipped toward it.

  Blood loss, lack of sleep, and the physical and emotional stress of the last couple of days left Gil drained. His hiding place was comfortable, and he was pretty sure no dogs would track him this time. He’d fled the university hospital in the rain, stealing a coat and a bike and riding off, still wearing his hospital gown. He’d have to get clothes before he could get away clean, but he needed dark for that. His immediate problem was sleep—Frankie was always a threat.

  Gil’s eyelids were heavy, and he dozed, suddenly snapping awake, realizing what had happened. Gil sat up, but knew he had to stay low. Walking around was too big a risk, so he waved his arms around and stretched his legs. The movement helped, but soon he found his eyelids sagging again. Painfully pinching his cheek helped, but only briefly. He was losing the battle against sleep and soon his head sagged. He snapped awake again, only to nod off once more. Finally, he gave up and lay back, promising himself only a short nap—a promise he had no way to keep.

  A thump in the bathroom stopped Wes, and he knocked on the door. “Are you all right in there? Hello? I’m coming in.” The door opened a crack before it hit something. Wes could see a pair of legs blocking the way. He pushed harder, moving the legs out of the way, then leaned in. Yu was unconscious on the floor.

  “Elizabeth, come quick.”

  Squeezing in, Wes reached for Yu’s neck, but realized his chest was heaving and he was breathing deeply. Then Elizabeth’s head appeared.

  “Check the others—it may be Frankie,” Wes said.

  Pulling Yu out of the way, Wes rolled him over, checking for injuries. When he was sure there were no wounds he checked his eyes, watching the pupils constrict. He shook Yu but he wouldn’t wake. Then Elizabeth was back.

  “Archie and Daphne are unconscious too. It’s Frankie, isn’t it? But that’s good, we were going to try and do it ourselves anyway.”

  “Maybe, but this way we may not find out were Gil is.”

  “It won’t matter if they capture him as Frankie.”

  Wes agreed, bu
t worried anyway. He preferred being in control. “Let’s move them downstairs so we can monitor. If we have to we can still go through with the insertion.”

  Wes couldn’t lift Yu by himself, so Elizabeth went to find Ralph. Wes meant to share the load, but Ralph scooped up Yu, and carried him down the stairs, the others trailing.

  Seeing Dr. Birnbaum at the bottom of the stairs, Ralph said, “He’s not as heavy as your chair, but he’s heavier than you. Course he’s not missing any parts.”

  Dr. Birnbaum laughed, then followed them to the experiment room, whirring around in his chair, watching Elizabeth fit the EET helmet to Yu’s head. Ralph returned with Archie; then Dr. Birnbaum rolled around to inspect the terminals, pestering Karon and Shamita with questions. When he rolled up to Wes’s terminal, Wes began a running narrative, describing function and theory. He accompanied every move he made with another explanation. Dr. Birnbaum sat enthralled.

  Karon finished with Archie, then moved to Len’s terminal, checking the physiological readings. Elizabeth joined Dr. Birnbaum, listening to the explanation. Everyone was submerged in their work, so it was a long time before they realized Ralph was standing behind them chewing gum.

  Irritated, Wes turned to Ralph. “You were supposed to carry Daphne down, Ralph. If you want a Slurpee to do it, I’ll gladly buy you one. A large one!”

  “Would you, Wes? I can drink a large, but I usually don’t buy them. Too spensive, you know.”

  “I’ll make it a special treat. Now, would you please bring Daphne down?”

  “I will as soon as she gets back.”

  “What? She’s gone.”

  “She’s not in her room. I looked in the bathroom for her. I didn’t just walk in. I knocked first. Daphne doesn’t like me to walk in when she’s in the bathroom.”