Passage

by Connie Willis

  She nodded. “I thought I could see someone, but the light was too bright.”

  “The sensation of a presence is a temporal-lobe effect, too,” he said. “I’d been assuming the light and peaceful feeling were endorphin-generated, but maybe it’s the temporal lobe that’s causing . . . I want to look at your scans.”

  Joanna nodded and started to get down off the examining table. “Wait,” Richard said. “We’re not done yet. You still haven’t answered the big question.”

  “The big question?” Joanna asked. “Do you mean, was what I saw real? Was it heaven? Or the doorway to the Other Side?”

  “No. The big question,” he said, and grinned. “You said you heard a sound. Well? Was it a ringing or a buzzing?”

  “It . . . ” she said, and stopped, bewildered. “I have no idea. I know I heard it. I was in the tunnel . . . ”

  “Was it loud or soft?”

  Loud, she thought. She had heard it quite clearly. But, trying to remember it now, she found she couldn’t reconstruct it at all, or even identify the type of noise it had been. A ringing? A buzzing? A horrible crash, like a whole stack of canned goods crashing down, as Mr. Steinhorst had described it?

  “Has the memory of it faded?” Richard asked.

  She considered that. It must have, because she couldn’t recall it, but the rest of the NDE was as crystal-clear as when she was having it, and she remembered thinking she had heard the sound and turning in its direction to identify it. So she hadn’t known what it was even during the NDE.

  “Joanna?” Richard prompted.

  “No, it’s not that I’ve forgotten it, I don’t think. I can’t remember it. No, that’s not right either. I’m sorry,” she said, defeated. “I’m no better than Mr. Sage.”

  “Are you kidding?” Richard said. “You’re wonderful. I should have sent you under to begin with and to hell with the other subjects. You’ve given me more detail than all of them put together, and this is just the first time. I want to send you under again as soon as possible, which means as soon as the dithetamine’s out of your system. It takes about twelve hours. How about tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Great,” Joanna said. “I can’t wait.”

  And it was true. She wanted nothing more than to go back there and figure out what the sound was, where the place was.

  There hadn’t been anything dangerous or frightening about it at all. So why, when Richard asked her, had she felt a sudden sense of dread?

  And had Amelia Tanaka had it, too? Was that why she had quit?

  “Even in the valley of the shadow of death, two and two do not make six.”

  —WORDS OF TOLSTOY ON HIS DEATHBED, ON BEING URGED TO RETURN TO THE FOLD OF THE RUSSIAN ORTHODOX CHURCH

  IT’S A RESIDUAL EFFECT of the dithetamine,” Richard said when Joanna told him about the dread she felt.

  “Or a warning that something bad’s going to happen if you go under again,” Vielle said when she came over for Dish Night.

  “Nothing bad is going to happen,” Joanna said, taking a packet of popcorn out of the box. “Look at me. I’m fine. My body didn’t get confused when it saw the tunnel and the light and trigger some dying process. They didn’t have trouble bringing me out of it. Nothing happened.”

  “So you did see a tunnel and a light?” Vielle asked curiously. “Was Mandrake there?”

  “No,” Joanna said, laughing. “No, no Mr. Mandrake and no Angel of Light.” She told Vielle about the passage and the light coming from behind the door. “I didn’t have an out-of-body experience either, or a life review, at least not this time.” She opened the refrigerator. “What do you want to drink? I’ve got Coke, ginger ale, and . . . ginger ale.”

  “Coke,” Vielle said. “What do you mean, ‘this time’? You’re not going under again, are you?”

  “Of course,” Joanna said, reaching into the refrigerator for two Cokes.

  “But what about this feeling of dread you had? What if it was trying to tell you there’s something terrible waiting behind that door?”

  “I didn’t have the feeling when I looked at the door,” Joanna said, handing Vielle her Coke. “I didn’t have it during the NDE at all, not until nearly an hour afterward.”

  “When Dr. Right asked you to go under again.”

  “Yes, but only for a few seconds, and I didn’t have it when he set up a time for the session,” Joanna said. “Richard showed me the cortisol in my readouts. The levels were definitely elevated, and cortisol frequently remains in the system after a return to the waking state. It’s what causes that frightened feeling you can’t shake after a nightmare.”

  “But what if the cortisol’s elevated because of what you saw? You said the tunnel looked familiar. What if the dread comes from your recognizing it? What if it comes from your knowing what’s waiting behind that door?”

  The microwave beeped. Saved by the bell, Joanna thought, and took her time tearing the bag open, finding a bowl, pouring the popcorn in.

  “What if—?” Vielle said.

  “Rule Number One,” Joanna said. She took the popcorn into the living room. “What movies did you bring?”

  “Flatliners,” Vielle said. “It’s about a bunch of medical students who mess with near-death experiences with tragic results. They think they’re going to see angels, but they start having terrible—”

  “I know what it’s about,” Joanna said. “I can’t believe you—”

  “Julia Roberts is in it,” Vielle said innocently. “Dr. Right said he liked Julia Roberts. Or is the ban on dying still on?”

  Joanna ignored that. “Richard isn’t coming,” she said. “He’s meeting with Dr. Jamison.”

  Vielle’s eyes narrowed. “Dr. Jamison? Male or female?”

  “Female. She’s an expert on neurotransmitters.”

  “I’ll bet,” Vielle said. “And I’ll bet they had to meet at night. Where? At Happy Hour? Honestly, first Tish and now this. If you don’t take an option on him soon, Dr. Right is going to be Dr. Out of Circulation.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Joanna said. She picked up the other video. What else had Vielle brought? Altered States?

  “It’s The Pelican Brief,” Vielle said, taking it away from her and sticking it in the VCR. “Also with Julia Roberts. You should have told me Dr. Right wasn’t coming. At least it’s got Denzel Washington in it.” She hit “play.”

  At least it wasn’t Flatliners.

  “Have you seen it?” Vielle said, settling down on the couch. “It’s about a young woman who gets in over her head because she doesn’t pay attention to the warning signals.”

  “I only had the feeling of dread once, for about ten seconds,” Joanna said. “I haven’t had it since.”

  And she didn’t have it again, not even when she lay down on the table the next afternoon and Tish began putting the electrodes on her, not even when Richard said, “All ready?” All she felt was eagerness. She was determined to identify the sound this time, and to see what was behind the door. And to figure out what the place was and why it looked so familiar. Not familiar, that was the wrong word, and not déjà—

  There was a sound, and Joanna was back in the passage. In the same place, Joanna thought, even though it was pitch-black, and saw the light. It was still blinding, but instead of a radiating blur, it was a narrow band of gold along the side and underneath the door.

  The door seemed much farther away than it had the last time, and the passage impossibly long, or maybe that was because the door was only open an inch or so. The light that came from it lit the first few feet of the floor and walls, and she could make out shapes in the darkness even closer than that. Doors lined both sides of the hall at even intervals, like in a hotel.

  Not a hotel, she thought. What else had long halls lined with doors? Mercy General? No, it wasn’t a hospital either. Patients’ doors were nearly always open. These were all closed, and the hall was narrower than a hospital corridor.

  And she had obviously been in hospitals. I’ve neve
r been here before, she thought. So what else had long, narrow halls lined with doors that she would recognize without ever having been there? Versailles? No, it had mirrors, didn’t it? A mansion?

  “ ‘In my Father’s house are many mansions,’ ” Mrs. Woollam had told her, but she had meant a heavenly mansion. A palace? That seemed to ring a bell, although a palace would have carpeting, wouldn’t it, not wooden floors? And she could see the floor in the little pool of light from under the door.

  It was made of long, narrow varnished boards. Impossibly long. Like the passage, she thought, but when she began walking toward the door, it was not nearly as far away as she’d thought.

  It’s the floor, she thought, stopping halfway to the door. There’s something about it that makes the hall look longer than it is, or something about the way the floor looks as it meets the door. She squinted at the place where they met, and as she did, the light seemed to waver, becoming dimmer, then brighter, then obscured again, flickering. No, moving.

  No, the light wasn’t moving. Something in front of it was. There was someone, or something, behind the door, walking, blocking the light as it moved. “What if it’s something terrible?” Vielle had said. A tiger, pacing back and forth.

  No one has ever mentioned a tiger in his NDE, she told herself. It’s a person walking back and forth, and she thought she heard a murmur of voices. She moved forward, keeping her eyes on the line of light, straining to hear.

  “What’s happened?” a woman said, and the pattern of light shifted, as if the woman had taken a step toward the door.

  Joanna moved closer. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” a man’s voice said.

  More shadows as they walked between her and the light. “It’s so cold,” the woman said.

  “I’ll get you a blanket,” Richard said, and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

  “No, not me. The woman,” Joanna said and realized she was in the lab.

  She opened her eyes. Her sleep mask was off, and her headphones, and Tish was spreading the white cotton blanket over her. Richard’s face appeared above her. “Did you see the same thing this time?” he asked.

  “Don’t lead,” Joanna said. “Where’s the recorder?”

  “Right here,” Richard said and switched it on. “What did you see this time?”

  “It was the same place as before. It’s a hallway, with doors along the sides and a door at the end.” She told him about the hall seeming longer than it was and about the voices. “The woman said, ‘What’s happened?’ and the man said, ‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ and then the woman, I think it was the same one, said, ‘It’s so cold.’ ”

  “Are you sure you heard the woman say it?” Richard asked, and then explained, “You said, ‘It’s so cold,’ five minutes after the NDE, while you were in non-REM sleep.”

  “That’s why I brought you the blanket,” Tish said.

  “No, I’m sure she said it,” Joanna said. “I must have repeated it afterward. I didn’t have any reason to say it. I wasn’t cold.”

  “You’re shivering,” Tish said.

  “No, I’m not—” Joanna began, and realized her teeth were chattering. Amelia gets cold, too, she thought.

  “You weren’t cold during the NDE?” Richard asked.

  “No, it wasn’t cold in the passage.”

  “You said the woman said it was,” Tish pointed out.

  “But she was outside,” Joanna said.

  “You saw what was beyond the door?” Richard asked.

  “No, I . . . ” she said, and stopped, wondering how she knew the people were outside. The door hadn’t looked like an outside door, and she had not seen anything except shadows. “I don’t know why I think they were outside. It’s just a feeling.”

  “You say it wasn’t cold in the passage. Was it warm?”

  “No,” Joanna said. “I didn’t notice anything about the temperature. And when I saw the light I didn’t feel the warmth and love other NDEers have described. I felt anxiety at what might be behind the door, and otherwise, nothing.”

  “Did you feel detached, as if you were observing yourself?”

  “No,” she said definitely. “I was there, experiencing the hallway and the light under the door and the voices. The vision is very convincing. It feels totally real.”

  “And you experienced voices, but you didn’t see anyone?”

  “Not unless you count the shadows of their feet from under the door.”

  Richard was busily taking notes. “Okay, tunnel, light, voices. Out-of-body experience?”

  “No.”

  “What about the sound? Did you hear it this time?”

  “The sound,” Joanna said, disgusted. “I fully intended to listen to it and identify it, and then when I got there I forgot all about it in trying to remember where I knew the hallway from.”

  “You experienced the déjà vu again?”

  “It’s not déjà vu,” she said. “I’ve had that sensation, where it feels like you’ve been somewhere or done something before, even though you know you haven’t. This wasn’t like that. I felt . . . ” she paused, “ . . . I knew I’d never been there before, but . . . I recognized it.”

  “You recognized it?” Tish asked curiously. “Where was it?”

  “I don’t know,” Joanna said, frustrated. “I felt I could almost . . . ” She reached out her hand, as if to grab at the knowledge. One of my patients made a gesture just like that, she thought. I need to find her account and see what she was talking about.

  “Do you still have the feeling?” Richard was asking.

  “No.”

  “Sound, tunnel, light, voices, sense of recognition,” he said, ticking them off. “What about a command to return?”

  “No, no one ordered me to return. They didn’t even know I was there.”

  “It’s still five of the core elements,” Richard said, looking happy. “I think if I adjust the dosage, we may get all ten. And this feeling of recognition is very interesting.”

  Joanna’s teeth had begun to chatter again. “Can we finish this after I get dressed?” she asked. “I’m freezing to death. Are you finished monitoring me, Tish?”

  Tish nodded, and Joanna slid off the table and padded across the lab to the dressing room, holding the blanket tightly around her. She went into the dressing room, shut the door, and reached for her blouse. As she did, she caught sight of her image in the mirror on the door, and the feeling of recognition hit her again. I know, I know where it is, she thought.

  The feeling only lasted for an instant. In the time it took for her to turn and face the mirror straight on, it faded to nothing, and she was left staring at her image, wondering what it was that had triggered it. The blanket or the door?

  As soon as she was dressed, she told Richard about it. “Could it have been the mirror itself?” he said, looking at the mirror on the door. “Did you see a mirror in your NDE? Or a reflection of something?”

  “Leading,” Joanna said. “No.”

  “But it was the same feeling of déjà vu?”

  “It’s not déjà vu. I’ve never been there, but I knew where it was. It was like knowing you were in Paris because you recognized the Eiffel Tower, even though you’ve never been there before. Except that I can’t place it,” she finished lamely.

  “Do you still have the feeling?”

  “No, it just sort of flashes past.”

  “Interesting. I want you to tell me if the feeling recurs,” he said.

  “Or if I figure out where it is,” she said, and spent the remainder of the afternoon and evening trying to place it. Something to do with a blanket and a wooden floor. And a palace. No, not a palace, but something with the word palace in it. The Palace Hotel? But it wasn’t a hotel. The Palace Theater?

  She got exactly nowhere. It’s the watched-pot syndrome, she thought, driving to work the next morning, and decided to not think about it in the hope the elusive memory would kick spontaneously forward. She focused on transcribing her a
ccount and on helping prep Mrs. Troudtheim, who kicked out immediately with no memory of having had an NDE. “It was the same as last time,” she said. “I was lying there in the dark, trying not to fall asleep, but I guess I must have. I’m so sorry. I even took a nap this morning so I wouldn’t.”

  “You were lying there in the dark,” Joanna said. “Did the darkness change at any point? Grow darker? Or take on a different quality?”

  “No.”

  “You say you fell asleep. Do you have any memory of being asleep?”

  “No. I was just lying there, and then I sort of jerked awake.”

  “Did something wake you? A movement? A sound?”

  “No.”

  “Nice try,” Richard said after Mrs. Troudtheim had left, “but it’s no use. She doesn’t remember.”

  And neither do I, Joanna thought, typing up Mrs. Troudtheim’s nontranscript. Not thinking about the tunnel hadn’t worked any better than trying to place the passage.

  She did a global search on “floor” and then “blanket,” neither of which turned up any matches. She tried, “It’s so cold.” Nothing. She ran it again on “cold,” and this time there were a number of hits. Most were vague references to feelings the subject had had in the tunnel or on returning, and a couple were in Joanna’s notes. “During interview subject repeatedly asked me if I thought room was cold,” and, “Subject seemed cold, put on robe, then stuck hands up inside sleeves.”

  All of which was very interesting, but it didn’t tell her where the tunnel was, and when Richard told her he wanted to send her under the next day, her first thought was, “Maybe when I see it again, I’ll know.” Her second was, “But first I’m going to identify that sound if it kills me,” and she held that thought through Tish’s attaching the electrodes, starting the IV, adjusting the sleep mask.

  “The sound,” she murmured to herself as Tish put on her headphones. “First identify the sound, then the hallway.”

  There was a sound, and she was in the passage. The line of light where the floor met the door still looked oddly distant, but she knew she must be closer to the door than the last time. She could clearly hear the sound of voices beyond the door.