by Darrell Bain
"Yes, sir."
"I must have mentioned your name once, though. She's developing a very good memory."
"Well, there's certainly nothing wrong with that. Have a seat.” Bailey waved to a small couch with end tables and a coffee table covered with neat stacks of the latest magazines. They were meeting in his office. “Something to drink? Coke? Coffee?"
"Amber's already had her quota of soda for the day. She can have a little coffee if you have real cream to dilute it. Same for me, but I take mine black."
"Happens that I do have cream. I don't care for that artificial stuff.” Bailey brought a carafe and cups with the accessories all on a tray and set them on the center table. “I'll let you fix Amber's while I do mine."
For ten minutes Bailey talked generalities, mentioning nothing pertaining to the terrorist attack half a year ago, but finally, he set his cup down and prepared to discuss the subject. “Tell you what, if Amber is agreeable, I'll spend about fifteen or twenty minutes with her and then the same amount of time with you while my nurse finds something to keep Amber busy. After that, we'll all have a chat together. Okay?"
Pat nodded, liking the way he voiced the proposal in direct, even tones without being condescending like so many authority figures did. She thought she might have walked out if he had said okay in the manner some doctors and nurses did, “Okaayy?", as if it took baby talk to make anyone understand a simple request.
When he was ready, Bailey nodded at Pat. “We'll go into the other office now. There's reading material here or I can turn on the television if you like."
"I have a book,” Pat said, pulling out one of the latest suspense novels that she liked to read when relaxing or waiting somewhere.
Bailey grinned. “You have good habits. Always take something you like to read to a doctor's office. Are you ready, Amber?"
Amber followed him into the other room without dissent. Pat crossed her legs and opened her book, thinking of all the patients she had seen in doctors’ offices either staring into space or with eyes fixed blankly on a television screen. It always made her feel sorry for them. Weren't they interested in anything outside their own little world? Soon she picked up the thread of the novel and was lost in the narrative.
* * * *
"Must be a good book,” Bailey said, smiling.
Pat looked up in surprise. “Already?” Then the import of the question came to her. “Oh. Yes, it's good. I like thriller novels filled with psychological suspense."
"So do I. My colleagues accuse me of taking a busman's holiday when they catch me with a psychological ones. Well, let's see what my nurse has for Amber to do.” He glanced at his watch then looked quickly at Amber. She was already heading for the door leading to his nurse's office. A frown appeared on his face and quickly disappeared, but not before Pat caught it.
She waited while Bailey introduced her and Amber to the nurse, and as soon as she saw that her daughter appeared to be satisfied with the arrangement, allowed Bailey to close it behind them.
"More coffee?"
"Please."
As soon as they were seated, Pat spoke first, not liking the frown she had seen. “What did you find wrong?"
Bailey removed his glasses and rubbed his expansive forehead. He crossed his legs and forced himself to sit back in his chair and go into his psychologist's mode though he doubted it was needed with this woman.
"Don't get upset yet, Pat. Do you like Pat or Patricia best?"
"Pat."
"Okay, Pat. There's nothing drastically wrong with Amber. In fact, I'm not sure there's anything wrong with her at all."
"Then why the frown?"
"Mmm. There's something about Amber I've never seen before. It's as if she ... anticipates questions and actions, almost like mind reading."
"Oh, my God! I thought the same thing the other day!"
"Well, again, don't go off the deep end. Some children are naturals at guessing what adults are up to. There's another reasonable explanation for her behavior, though; at least I believe there is. Are you familiar with the term ‘mirror neurons'?"
"Yes, I've read a little about them in the popular media about Sunday Supplement level, but I also subscribe to a layman's science magazine. In the last few years I've seen a number of articles about them. I didn't understand a lot of it, but the subject interested me because of the progress being made with autistic children. Over the last couple of decades, there's been a significant increase in the number being diagnosed and shuttled off to Special Education. Frankly, I think many of the doctors are wrong and it's simply lazy administrators who try to get them diagnosed and into special ed classes. And too many doctors go right along with it."
"Sad but true."
"But how do mirror neurons apply to Amber? Oh—wait a minute. I think I know. She has lots of mirror neurons. Is that it?"
"Not exactly, Pat. Or let me rephrase that. I really don't know. It could be something entirely different. However, we did PET scans on two of the children who were admitted along with Amber, and both showed increased activity in the region of the brain where the mirror neurons live."
"I remember. Broca's area?"
"Right. You should have gone into neurology instead of teaching.” He laughed to show her the comment wasn't intended to be taken seriously. “Anyway, what I'm wondering is whether all of the kids developed the same thing after ingesting that chemical. I can't say for certain because I haven't received enough funding to conduct scans on them. However, the young children I've examined so far, the ones who were admitted to the hospital back then, are displaying the same type of behavior as Amber. On the other hand, I've spoken to some of the school teachers at the middle schools and high schools in other areas that were attacked, and they're not seeing nearly so much of it as we are. In fact, the high school students hardly show a discernable change at all. The middle school is where we begin to see a few signs of that kind of behavior, and by the time we get down to Amber's age group, it's very noticeable—if you're looking for it like I began doing after seeing the first few children this time."
"Oh, mercy! Is it ... is it dangerous? Or...” Pat didn't know how to continue. Too many wild thoughts were suddenly roving through her mind while she tried to remember what she had read about the peculiar neurons.
"To be perfectly honest, Pat. I simply don't know. I've categorized my findings and asked the hospital to allow me to do a lot more PET Scans. I don't know whether the funding will be approved or not because I want to do them under specific protocols that have been developed where sets of standard question/answer/action/reaction scenes have been devised. It's fairly expensive, especially when it involves as many as I've asked for."
Pat grinned wryly. “Just tell the Hospital Board or Chief of Neurology or whoever has to approve them that the hospital will be liable for a big lawsuit if they don't allow you to do the scans. That ought to do it."
"By golly, I may do that very thing!” The twinkle in his eyes that Pat remembered reappeared for the first time since their appointment. Seeing it again compelled Pat to go ahead with an action she had been mulling over since learning he was single.
"Listen, I know we're running out of time, but ... would it be possible to see you when you're off duty? Or would that be unethical?” She felt her body tensing, but she didn't care. She would much rather be direct and chance a refusal than never ask at all, and the man intrigued her, something most men could never do.
"Um..."
Why he's blushing again, just like last time! Pat thought. Is he gay? Are am I missing the signals? Damn it, it's been so long I've forgotten how to go about this.
"Uh...” Bailey cleared his throat and started over. “It sort of skirts the line, but since it's Amber and not you who's the patient, I think we could ... um ... what did you have in mind?"
CHAPTER FIVE
Pat spotted Bailey already waiting at the local pizza parlor where they had decided to meet. He was wearing jeans and a light windbreaker, the same a
s she. The difference was in the color of the pullovers beneath the jacket—and the way they fit. She smiled inwardly as he tracked her movements while she came to the booth. Shy or not, men didn't differ in much in their reaction to her figure, with her generous breasts and narrow waist. He was unusual in that he stood up to greet her and waited until she slid into the booth before seating himself. She liked that.
After their meal arrived, Pat asked a question she was curious about.
"How did you come by Bailey as a first name?"
Bailey wrinkled his forehead in amusement rather than annoyance over how many times he had been asked that question. “Mom thought Jones was such a common name that she wanted to give me an unusual first name to make up for it. And since Bailey was her maiden name..."
Pat grinned over a slice of pizza covered liberally with pepperoni. “Now that makes sense. Diplomatic, too. I bet that made her father happy."
"Yes, it did. My grandmother, too. But no one is ever satisfied. Now they're agitating for me to get married and have kids."
"You've never been married?"
"I had to borrow a lot of money to get through school and then to set up my practice and ... no, that's just an excuse. Truth is, I'm not a very sociable animal and..” He broke off, embarrassed.
Pat knew what it was, though she didn't say so. The man was just shy, that was all. Unusual for a doctor. She was surprised some nurse hadn't picked him off by now; he certainly must come in contact with enough of them. She was glad now that she had asked him for a date of sorts but had been rather surprised when he suggested meeting for a pizza. Not that she minded. But she could see that she was going to have to carry the conversational ball until he became comfortable with her. Talking about work will do it, she thought. Aloud, she said “Are you finding anything out yet with the PET scans?” He had called her only two days after their last appointment, and after receiving a limited go ahead to proceed with the scans, he had wanted to set up an appointment for Amber first thing. Pat signed the necessary forms, and it had been done several days before. She hadn't seen him then, preferring to talk to him outside the hospital environment. She had received a form letter telling her the PET Scan revealed no pathology.
"Well, without breaking patient confidentiality, I can say I'm accumulating a lot of data. And by the way, I have you to thank for being allowed to do the scans. Or have them done, that is. That mention of liability to lawsuits was all it took with the Hospital Administrator. My chief isn't too happy with me, though. He doesn't think they're necessary."
Pat was astonished. “Even after what you saw on the other two and the way Amber and the other kids are acting?"
Bailey shrugged. “He's an old man who specialized in brain tumors. He hasn't kept up with the rest of the field the way he should have. More to the point, all the tabloid press about the so-called mind reading brain cells disgusts him. He didn't think much of the research into mirror neurons to begin with, and that kind of blathering really turned him off. He thinks we'll wind up being ridiculed by the press—and by our peers."
Pat scrutinized his face closely. “But you don't?"
"No,” Bailey said simply, but added, “Oh the media might try to make a big thing of it, but I'm not planning on them finding out.” He finished the last of his half of the pizza and wiped his mouth. “Ah, that was good,” he said and reached for his stein of dark beer.
"What exactly have you seen on the scans?” Pat persisted. If he'd learned anything having to do with Amber, she wanted to know now, not after some long, drawn out study was completed.
Bailey took another sip of his beer. “I can't tell you anything about the other children,” he said, but his eyes took on the familiar twinkle Pat had seen the other two times she had been in his presence. “However, I see no ethical barrier to talking about Amber."
Pat relaxed and waited for him to continue. He was a nice man and not encumbered with following bureaucratic regulations; he would tell her everything he could.
"Amber showed the same increased activity in the regions of the brain that harbors the mirror neurons just like the two kids we scanned while they were still in the hospital. But...” he paused, trying to think of the best way to put it.
Pat felt her heart skip a beat. “But what?"
"You said you've read about how mirror neurons work; they're active when someone is observing another person in close proximity. What I saw with Amber was intense activity of her mirror neurons. And remember, her head was inside the barrel, as we call it for the kids, and she couldn't see much, let alone observing the actions of someone else."
"What could that mean?"
"Officially? Not enough data for conclusions or even a hypothesis. Personally? I think the mirror neurons are multiplying, and that's why the area shows up on the scans. The area they cover now is larger than I've ever seen in patients. I guess that could account for the change in behavior."
"Is it dangerous?” Pat interrupted to ask.
"No, I don't think so, but again, I don't have much data.” He hesitated to tell her the rest of it, but Pat sensed there was more.
She prodded, “There's something else, isn't there?"
Bailey removed his glasses and massaged his forehead before answering. “I'm wondering how far the process will go and whether something else besides cell proliferation is going on. Whether more mirror neurons will change her behavior or not. Whether the changes we've already seen are a result of the activity of the mirror neurons or something else. Whether the behavior we've already seen will change to something else or remain the same and become more ... intense, I guess is the best way of putting it. Or whether it fades as she grows up. There's all sorts of questions I have and no good answers. I'm sorry, Pat."
"There's not a chance she could really learn to read minds, is there?"
Bailey signaled for the waitress by holding up his stein then turned back to her. “My personal opinion? No, I really don't think so, but ... well, you've probably heard stories of how married couples who are really close seem to be able to read each other's minds on occasion. I suspect that's just their mirror neurons in action. However, let's say ... doubling or tripling the number ordinarily present in small children, making the cells a bit different somehow, a lot more efficient and much more active ... then ... well, I just don't know. No data. I don't know what would happen. Also remember children that age are forming new synapses—new wiring in their brains, so to speak—at a furious rate. Combine the two and what do you think would happen?
Pat had to ponder that one while Bailey waited patiently. “You said you didn't think Amber could become a mind reader, but given all the factors you just mentioned and a few years, she might become so good at anticipating actions that..."
Bailey finished for her. “Exactly. It might be hard to tell the difference sometimes.” Seeing the stricken expression on her face, he quickly added. “But we don't know that will happen. And suppose it did? Not mind reading like in science fiction stories, but simply knowing for certain what another person wants. Greatly increased empathy, in other words. Would it be a bad thing?"
Pat fiddled with the handle of her stein, trying to organize her thoughts. Finally, she just shook her head. “I just don't know. Too much empathy could be as bad as too little. It scares me."
"Me, too."
"Why you?"
"Well, to begin with, I like Amber. She's a sweet child and very intelligent and personable. I wouldn't want to see anything bad to happen to her, but if it turns out like we've been speculating, other people might not be scared. They would want to exploit her and others like her.” Bailey reached out and touched her hand, surprised when she gripped it so tightly. “Let's keep our thoughts to ourselves, shall we? I'd rather none of this become public knowledge if we can avoid it."
Pat drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes. Don't let anyone know. Please, Bailey. She's all I have."
CHAPTER SIX
"How did you find out about this,
Casey? The task force was disbanded and you were reassigned.” Ray Hetrick sat at his SAIC Regional Director's desk in Little Rock, irritably shuffling papers on his desk while Sean Casey sat across from him. He couldn't figure out what Casey was up to other than trying to recover from his disappointment when the school poisoning case hadn't advanced his career.
"I left my card with a few of the hospital workers during the original investigation. One of them called and let me know."
"All right, fine, but how does this apply to us? What difference does it make?"
"I don't know but it sure seems funny to me, testing those kids all over again."
"What's so funny? Aren't followups normal procedure for a doctor?"
Casey struggled to make his superior see what was bothering him while wishing it was him sitting on the other side of the desk. “Yes, sir, but now he's running a lot of them through one of those big expensive machines. They didn't do that even when the kids were sick."
Hetrick fiddled with some paper files, wondering if the agency would ever catch up to the efficient way businesses were run. He didn't want to dismiss the Casey's concerns out of hand but he was getting a little tired of the man always trying to come up with something to attract attention to himself. “Okay, supposing some effects from the nerve agent are just now showing up in the children. It still doesn't concern us. Not now."
"How about if that's what those ragheads wanted in the first place? A long term effect?"
"No epithets in my office, Casey. Understand?"
"Sorry, sir. But couldn't that be what the terrorists intended? A delayed effect? Maybe paralysis of lots of kids that ties up a bunch of our medical facilities and costs us tons of money? Maybe this was just a test case, and if they see it's working, they'll hit us on a much larger scale."
Hetrick removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, remembering how many times he had told himself he was going to get his eyes fixed the very next time he took a vacation. Unfortunately, vacation time seemed to come in such small bits and pieces that it never happened. There were always more important things to take care of. He sighed and made his decision. It was just barely possible, and these days it didn't pay to overlook anything, no matter how implausible. Just look what had happened when the regional director in Arizona had downplayed the possibility of a dirty bomb. They were still cleaning up the contamination in Flagstaff. He grimaced and looked back up.