Divisions, James Gerard [simple ebook reader .txt] 📗

the sheer starkness spoke of a sterile environment needed for any number of crucial experiments and tests involving medical research. 

 

“Here we are Doctor,” said Augustine as he opened a door.

 

Just then the sound of a woman’s voice was heard as a door just a little ahead and on the other side of the hallway popped open.

 

“What in the….?” Paul exclaimed.

 

The woman gasped and abruptly closed the door.

 

“Augustine,” Paul exclaimed, “were my eyes deceiving me or did I just see…see a detached head mouthing something to me.”

 

“I beg your pardon,” Augustine stated with an intense look.  “A talking head?” he busted out laughing.

 

“I could’ve sworn I saw a detached head with its spinal cord intact and connected with many wires directly looking at me and mouth….”

 

“You’re imagining things Doctor.”

 

“But….”

 

“Doctor,” shouted Augustine, “get a hold of yourself right now.”  He rushed from behind the desk and into the hallway.  “Which door Doctor Hatford?”

 

Paul pointed and calmly said, “That one.”

 

Augustine knocked on the door.  The door opened.  “Well, come and see for yourself Doctor Hatford.”

 

Paul stepped closer.   From the vantage point, he could see the detached head.  Its spinal cord was indeed attached but apparently he had mistaken the wandering strands of hair suspended in a watery solution as wires.  The gray hue of the skin made it obvious that it had been long dead and its use limited to specific studies for whatever their research project called for.

 

“I apologize Augustine, but I could have sworn I saw….”

 

“Oh please Doctor Hatford,” Augustine barked out, “certainly in your career you have delved into many a research project by which the brains have been preserved for study.”

 

“Of course,” Paul affirmed.  He followed Augustine back into the office and took a seat on a sofa near the door.

 

Augustine took a seat behind a desk.  “Now, if Jeffrey has not explained this to you, I will be succinct with what I am about to divulge: We have been working on tapping into the memories of those whose brain structures have been compromised by any number of diseases, genetic disorders, or traumas in order to reverse the said damage.”

 

“Do you mean the reestablishment or damaged neurons?”

 

“Exactly Doctor.  Now our testing has been conducted mainly on your typical laboratory animals with varying degrees of success.  But I must tell you, although Jeffrey feels we are getting closer to an answer, I feel we are still far away.”

 

“Yes, I can see why you would see things that way.  The brain is a highly complicated structure—there are no easy solutions.”

 

“Yes, I do agree with that assessment.  But remember, this is a private research project.  We are not bound by the laws regulating most institutions and research facilities.”

 

“Oh yes, Jeffrey did mention that.”

 

“So, rather than me telling you my uninformed opinion as to what is happening here, I will be introducing you to someone who can.  Someone you personally know and who has been involved with our research from the beginning.  Unfortunately, she is not here today but will be tomorrow.   So Doctor Hatford, if anything I have told you today peaks your curiosity then I invite you back tomorrow.”

 

“Just for my own understanding Augustine, you are not expecting me to vigorously join in the research—I am to be just an advisor correct?”

 

“That is all we are seeking Doctor Hatford.  We are looking to you as an experienced man in the field whose expertise could lead to a successful conclusion.”

 

“Then I am agreeable to your conditions Augustine.”

 

“Good.  Now I have urgent business to attend to, but if you wait right here my administrative assistant will help you with everything you need for…again, will tomorrow be okay with you?”

 

“Tomorrow will be fine.”

 

“Welcome on board,” said Augustine along with a firm handshake.

Puzzling Data

“Oh my,” whispered Paul.  The memory strained to remember if the parking arrangements had been discussed, and if they had, he wondered how to get around the embarrassment of asking.  Doubts then whispered objections as to the decision to forego the offer of a ride to and from the research facility just to avoid appearing a feeble old man.  And while such a judgment may have been evaded, he realized the mounting stress was a matter that should have been considered rather than the stubborn streak of pride. 

 

Paul could feel the panic and fear wracking the mind as he struggled to safely maneuver the behemoth of a car through unfamiliar streets.  He struggled through the pitfalls of traffic signs and signals, impatient motorists, and a failing depth perception that jerked the car to a stop far away from the crosswalk and lurched it forward by the inch to get a clear view of any cross traffic whizzing by.  His only saving grace, circumstances that eased the burden, was the rearview and side mirrors void of any images speeding towards the rear of the vehicle.

 

Spotting the name of the street as given by the directions, Paul slowly applied the brakes.  The car crawled close to the corner and abruptly stopped.  The view just about free of obstructions, he pinpointed the current location on the map and eyed the red line highlighting the route.  Confident that a turn to the left would lead him to the front of the research facility, the car inched up closer to the pedestrian crossing and stopped.

 

A stabbing pain penetrated the neck as the muscles were stretched while looking up and down the street.  The prescription glasses failing slightly, he did manage to focus in on the curbside to the right well enough to see the absence of yellow or red or green or white painted areas.  He could also see the absence of signs indicating the times and the days when parking was permitted, but suspicions still raged.  The absence of parked cars to either side of the street spoke volumes about the legality of parking, yet, wanting to arrive promptly at the scheduled time, he impulsively ignored good judgment and parked anyway.

 

He stood on the sidewalk and again the neck was subjected to the stabbing pain as he looked up and down the street for the presence of speeding cars.  Believing the way was clear, Paul thought about jaywalking but decided against the illegal act since he realized his body could not react quickly enough to evade even the slowest of moving, oncoming cars.  For he had long accepted the fact that not only with failing eyesight and failing depth perception and failing judgment of speeding objects, came a deteriorating nevous and muscular system.  Both were slow to respond to the neurons firing their commands.  He opted to cross at the corner even though it would make him minutes late.

 

As he walked along, hands patted down the pockets of his coat feeling for the identity card issued to him the day before and discovered it in the pocket of the double breasted blazer just underneath.

 

“Curious,” whispered Paul as he pulled on the front door only to discover that it was locked.  A hand reached underneath the trench coat and pulled out the security card.  Inserted into a slot, he could hear the buzzing signifying permission to proceed.

 

A voice called out upon entering.  “Good morning Doctor Hatford.”

 

Paul looked up and saw the face of a smiling young woman stepping towards him.  He looked somewhat puzzling at the professionally dressed woman, but then remembered that he was far away from the familiar confines of the university and the casually dressed professors and undergraduate students employed in any number of clerical and teaching duties.  Finally, he recovered from the temporary confusion and responded, “Do I have to wait for someone to escort me?”

 

“Not at all Doctor.  The elevator is right there.  Report to the second floor.”

 

“Report to whom?”

 

“Don’t you remember—to Lien?”

 

“Lien…of course.  Thank you young lady.”

 

The short elevator ride left him little time to prepare for whatever he was about to encounter.  And even though he had a good understanding of what to expect as far as working relationships, he was still pretty much in the dark about the work itself.  Just the idea of encountering methods teetering on the border of moral and ethical practices was unsettling.

 

White walls were glistneing in the brightly lit hallway.  They appeared to have been scrubbed clean with an antiseptic solution since such an odor was wafting in the air.  The slight sting to the nose brought back vivid memories of the times he often accompanied a patient on the journey from pre-op to the operating room.  As if it were yesterday, the memories were fresh in the mind.  Paul, caught up in the past, was confused.  He wondered what to do.  Just before he was about to shout out for assistance a door opened.

 

“Doctor Hatford?”

 

Paul turned around and smiled in response to the face beaming with youthful wonder and found the young woman familiar.  But who she was and where they had met was fleeting.  Then he whispered, “Oh my, is it you?”

 

The young woman threw her arms up in the air as if trying to revive recent memories.

 

“Ah,” Paul uttered as her identity came to mind.  “If it isn’t my favorite student of all time, Lien.”

 

She came up to him.  With a big hug she gleefully announced, “I can’t believe you remember.”

 

“How could I forget?” laughed Paul.  “Why…why Lien you were the most vivacious student I even knew.  You had a sheer hunger for knowledge.  You were attentive and fearless in your quest for understanding.  You were always striving for excellence in everything you did.  How could I forget.”

 

“Well then Doctor Hatford, the student respectively hands over the classroom to the teacher.  Are you ready to take the next step?”

 

“And what sort of wonders lie in wait my dear?”

 

“You will just have to come with me Doctor Hatford to find out.”

 

Paul winked and smiled, “Ah, such secrecy.”

 

Lien took hold of Paul’s hand and the two strolled up the hallway to a closed room to the left at the end.  Upon entering, Paul took notice of the fancy electrical gizmos that were utilized by research facilities at the university and other institutions around the world.  Also, he took immediate notice of a number of mice, each housed independently in transparent, stimulating receptacles that sat on a table.  As Lien approached the mice, he eyed the table next to it.  It was laid out flat, with no sidings, and with one half painted green while the other side was painted blue.

 

Without a word exchanged, he silently watched Lien walk up to the table and remove two of the mice.  Curious over what she was about to do, Paul moved in closer to take a better look. Each was equipped with what appeared to be a head covering with very fine electrical nubs protruding from the top.

 

The suspense grew as she activated a machine rigged with what appeared to be antennae.  His immediate thought was that somehow painful electrical shocks were to be administered by the machine in order to attain a desired behavior.  The mice, however, were docile.  Neither behaved frantically by wriggling around to escape her clutching hands.   He then suspected a more subtle, persuasive force was to be applied.

 

Lien placed the mice on opposite ends of the table.  And while they came close to the middle while sniffing out the territory, it appeared each was reluctant to cross over the center line.

 

“If you’re wondering what is happening here,” spoke up Lien, “I think you can deduce that