very likely . . .”
“Squash them flat.”
The two women turned.
“Inelegant, Donald, but essentially correct.”
Pale eyes scanned the array of hookups: monitors and digital readouts and one lone dial. “Well, except for the continuous alpha wave input, she isn’t actually doing anything in there,” Catherine admitted thoughtfully.
Dr. Burke sighed and decided, for the moment, to let Catherine’s terminology stand. “My point exactly. Donald, if you would do the honors. Catherine, keep an eye on things and if there are any changes at all, sing out.”
The seal sighed open, the hint of formaldehyde on the escaping oxygen-rich air surely an illusion, and the heavy lid rose silently on its counterweights. The body of Marjory Nelson lay naked and exposed on what had been a sterile pad, huge purple scars stapled shut. Hair, already becoming brittle, fell away from the clips that held the top of the skull in place. A faint trace of burial cosmetics painted an artificial blush across cheekbones death-mask prominent.
At her station by the monitors, Catherine frowned. “I’m not sure. It could be a loose connection. Dr. Burke, could you please check the jack.”
Pulling on a pair of surgical gloves, Dr. Burke bent over and reached to roll the head a little to the left.
Gray-blue eyes snapped open.
“Holy shit!” Donald danced backward, crashed into number nine’s box, and clutched at it for support.
Dr. Burke froze, one hand almost cradling the line of jaw.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. An eternity.
As suddenly as they opened, the eyes closed.
Her view of the body blocked by equipment, Catherine ignored Donald’s outburst—in her opinion they came too often to mean anything—and sighed. “Just a wiggle. Probably something in the wire.”
“In the wire!” The stethoscope around Donald’s neck swung in a manic arc. “We didn’t get a wiggle, partner, we got recognition.”
“What?” Catherine shot to her feet and stared from Donald to Dr. Burke. “What happened?”
“We opened the lid, she opened her eyes, and bam!” Donald punched at the air. “Just for an instant, she knew who was standing over her. I’m telling you, Cathy, she recognized Dr. Burke!”
“Nonsense.” Dr. Burke calmly checked the implant before straightening. “It was an involuntary reaction to the light. Nothing more.” The peeled gloves slammed into the garbage. “Switch off the oxygen supplement—we’ve only got three full tanks left and I’m not sure when we can get more from the departmental supplies—and run a complete check on the mechanicals. Draw the usual samples.”
“And the alpha waves?”
“Keep recording.” A little pale under the glare of the fluorescents, Dr. Burke paused at the door. “But at the first sign of any agitation, cut the power. I have things to catch up on, so I’ll see you both later.”
Catherine’s puzzled gaze traveled from the lab door to Donald.
“Sure as shit looked like recognition to me,” he repeated, wiping his palms on his pants. “I think the good doctor’s spooked and I don’t blame her. Spooked me, too, and I barely knew the woman.”
Catherine chewed her lip. “Well, it didn’t register electronically.”
He shrugged. “Then maybe we’ve got activity going on outside the net.”
On cue, number nine began banging on the inside of his box.
Donald jumped and swore, but Catherine looked suddenly stricken.
“Oh, no! I promised him he wouldn’t have to spend more time in there than absolutely necessary to maintain the integrity of the experiment.”
Watching her hurry across the lab, Donald fished a candy from his pocket and methodically unwrapped it. Now that’s a person who doesn’t get out enough.
Usually, Dr. Burke considered the sound of her footsteps, leather soles slapping against tile, nothing more than background noise, acknowledged then forgotten. Today, the sound chased her through the empty halls of the old Life Sciences
“Squash them flat.”
The two women turned.
“Inelegant, Donald, but essentially correct.”
Pale eyes scanned the array of hookups: monitors and digital readouts and one lone dial. “Well, except for the continuous alpha wave input, she isn’t actually doing anything in there,” Catherine admitted thoughtfully.
Dr. Burke sighed and decided, for the moment, to let Catherine’s terminology stand. “My point exactly. Donald, if you would do the honors. Catherine, keep an eye on things and if there are any changes at all, sing out.”
The seal sighed open, the hint of formaldehyde on the escaping oxygen-rich air surely an illusion, and the heavy lid rose silently on its counterweights. The body of Marjory Nelson lay naked and exposed on what had been a sterile pad, huge purple scars stapled shut. Hair, already becoming brittle, fell away from the clips that held the top of the skull in place. A faint trace of burial cosmetics painted an artificial blush across cheekbones death-mask prominent.
At her station by the monitors, Catherine frowned. “I’m not sure. It could be a loose connection. Dr. Burke, could you please check the jack.”
Pulling on a pair of surgical gloves, Dr. Burke bent over and reached to roll the head a little to the left.
Gray-blue eyes snapped open.
“Holy shit!” Donald danced backward, crashed into number nine’s box, and clutched at it for support.
Dr. Burke froze, one hand almost cradling the line of jaw.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. An eternity.
As suddenly as they opened, the eyes closed.
Her view of the body blocked by equipment, Catherine ignored Donald’s outburst—in her opinion they came too often to mean anything—and sighed. “Just a wiggle. Probably something in the wire.”
“In the wire!” The stethoscope around Donald’s neck swung in a manic arc. “We didn’t get a wiggle, partner, we got recognition.”
“What?” Catherine shot to her feet and stared from Donald to Dr. Burke. “What happened?”
“We opened the lid, she opened her eyes, and bam!” Donald punched at the air. “Just for an instant, she knew who was standing over her. I’m telling you, Cathy, she recognized Dr. Burke!”
“Nonsense.” Dr. Burke calmly checked the implant before straightening. “It was an involuntary reaction to the light. Nothing more.” The peeled gloves slammed into the garbage. “Switch off the oxygen supplement—we’ve only got three full tanks left and I’m not sure when we can get more from the departmental supplies—and run a complete check on the mechanicals. Draw the usual samples.”
“And the alpha waves?”
“Keep recording.” A little pale under the glare of the fluorescents, Dr. Burke paused at the door. “But at the first sign of any agitation, cut the power. I have things to catch up on, so I’ll see you both later.”
Catherine’s puzzled gaze traveled from the lab door to Donald.
“Sure as shit looked like recognition to me,” he repeated, wiping his palms on his pants. “I think the good doctor’s spooked and I don’t blame her. Spooked me, too, and I barely knew the woman.”
Catherine chewed her lip. “Well, it didn’t register electronically.”
He shrugged. “Then maybe we’ve got activity going on outside the net.”
On cue, number nine began banging on the inside of his box.
Donald jumped and swore, but Catherine looked suddenly stricken.
“Oh, no! I promised him he wouldn’t have to spend more time in there than absolutely necessary to maintain the integrity of the experiment.”
Watching her hurry across the lab, Donald fished a candy from his pocket and methodically unwrapped it. Now that’s a person who doesn’t get out enough.
Usually, Dr. Burke considered the sound of her footsteps, leather soles slapping against tile, nothing more than background noise, acknowledged then forgotten. Today, the sound chased her through the empty halls of the old Life Sciences
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