Lucy Crosby. I guess I fucked that up pretty good.
I open the freezer again, more slowly this time. There’s a bottle of cheap vodka wedged in the back, bearded in frost. Three-fourths full. I pull it out and set it down on the counter and let it sweat.
I slide open the silverware drawer. Pick up an ice pick with a worn wooden handle. Turn it back and forth in my hands.
Nick told me I was going to do something here in Eden. At this moment, nothing very good comes to mind. But if I’m here because of this goddamn thing in my head, then I think I’m ready to go face-to-face with it. Turn it on and find out what it is, one way or another.
I’m going to see what all the fuss is about.
----
FDA U.S. Food and Drug Administration
Neural Autofocus MK-4 ® Brain Implant National Recall
Recall Class: Class I (reasonable probability of adverse consequences)
At the bequest of the FDA and the United States Senate, General Biologics recently sent an urgent medical device recall letter to all documented customers. The recall notice explained the issue, identified the affected products, required distributors to cease further distribution and use of the product, and requested the return of unused product.
Intended Use: The Neural Autofocus ® brain implant is intended to improve brain function in a variety of serious conditions, including forms of epilepsy, attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, and obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Reason for Recall: Complaints of behavioral side effects have been received. This type of failure may result in mood swings, depression, or manic episodes. These effects are poorly understood and unpredictable. In some cases, emergency surgery has been necessary to remove the implant. However, effects of the implant remain after removal due to the continuous training effect presented on neural pathways during use of the device.
Patients with implanted devices are advised to consult the list of government-approved clinicians included in Appendix A of this document. Unapproved physicians are not authorized to maintain the device.
General Biologics Corporation is advising customers immediately discontinue use of any affected product and return all unused products.
----
I’ve been flopping back and forth on the trailer’s linoleum floor like a fish on a boat for most of the night, and now I’m trying to draw breath between clenched teeth and wondering if I’ve got myself a fresh traumatic brain injury or if I’m just going crazy.
In a daze, I can hear myself grunting and, well, kind of squealing with my mouth closed. My calls for help sound more like somebody left a dog tied up for too long. Only I’m the animal and I did this to myself.
The latest seizure is over. Meaning the next one is due any minute. I don’t see any end to it. Jim is still gone doing his traveling-doctor thing and the only people I know in Eden must think I’m a pathetic coward. Last night, with alcohol-fueled bravery, I decided to try and turn on my Zenith. Tried to find myself. But what I found out was who I am with a broken implant. A spastic invalid.
On top of that, I’m hungover.
A nasty goose egg throbs on my shin in time with my heart. I got it when my leg slammed into the almost empty vodka bottle, shooting it across the room and under the couch. The pain in my shin joins the dull aching cramp in my jaw and neck and the rest of my skinned-up body. That bottle hurt me a lot more than I hurt it.
The plastic doorknob rattles.
For an instant I hallucinate a vision of Lucy. She’s blond and lithe and gliding through the front door to check in on me. Only there is a soft darkness outside. Her face is indistinct, lost in blacksmoke. She can’t get inside. Her thin fingers rake the doorframe. But she falls out into the darkness. Gone.
I try to call out, and a rope of drool drops sluglike from my lips. My stomach cramps and my cheek slides across the floor, smearing my face into
I open the freezer again, more slowly this time. There’s a bottle of cheap vodka wedged in the back, bearded in frost. Three-fourths full. I pull it out and set it down on the counter and let it sweat.
I slide open the silverware drawer. Pick up an ice pick with a worn wooden handle. Turn it back and forth in my hands.
Nick told me I was going to do something here in Eden. At this moment, nothing very good comes to mind. But if I’m here because of this goddamn thing in my head, then I think I’m ready to go face-to-face with it. Turn it on and find out what it is, one way or another.
I’m going to see what all the fuss is about.
----
FDA U.S. Food and Drug Administration
Neural Autofocus MK-4 ® Brain Implant National Recall
Recall Class: Class I (reasonable probability of adverse consequences)
At the bequest of the FDA and the United States Senate, General Biologics recently sent an urgent medical device recall letter to all documented customers. The recall notice explained the issue, identified the affected products, required distributors to cease further distribution and use of the product, and requested the return of unused product.
Intended Use: The Neural Autofocus ® brain implant is intended to improve brain function in a variety of serious conditions, including forms of epilepsy, attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, and obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Reason for Recall: Complaints of behavioral side effects have been received. This type of failure may result in mood swings, depression, or manic episodes. These effects are poorly understood and unpredictable. In some cases, emergency surgery has been necessary to remove the implant. However, effects of the implant remain after removal due to the continuous training effect presented on neural pathways during use of the device.
Patients with implanted devices are advised to consult the list of government-approved clinicians included in Appendix A of this document. Unapproved physicians are not authorized to maintain the device.
General Biologics Corporation is advising customers immediately discontinue use of any affected product and return all unused products.
----
I’ve been flopping back and forth on the trailer’s linoleum floor like a fish on a boat for most of the night, and now I’m trying to draw breath between clenched teeth and wondering if I’ve got myself a fresh traumatic brain injury or if I’m just going crazy.
In a daze, I can hear myself grunting and, well, kind of squealing with my mouth closed. My calls for help sound more like somebody left a dog tied up for too long. Only I’m the animal and I did this to myself.
The latest seizure is over. Meaning the next one is due any minute. I don’t see any end to it. Jim is still gone doing his traveling-doctor thing and the only people I know in Eden must think I’m a pathetic coward. Last night, with alcohol-fueled bravery, I decided to try and turn on my Zenith. Tried to find myself. But what I found out was who I am with a broken implant. A spastic invalid.
On top of that, I’m hungover.
A nasty goose egg throbs on my shin in time with my heart. I got it when my leg slammed into the almost empty vodka bottle, shooting it across the room and under the couch. The pain in my shin joins the dull aching cramp in my jaw and neck and the rest of my skinned-up body. That bottle hurt me a lot more than I hurt it.
The plastic doorknob rattles.
For an instant I hallucinate a vision of Lucy. She’s blond and lithe and gliding through the front door to check in on me. Only there is a soft darkness outside. Her face is indistinct, lost in blacksmoke. She can’t get inside. Her thin fingers rake the doorframe. But she falls out into the darkness. Gone.
I try to call out, and a rope of drool drops sluglike from my lips. My stomach cramps and my cheek slides across the floor, smearing my face into
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