Chapter 3: Chapter 2

“Dude. I have been staring at you sleeping for weeks. Wake your ass up!” Jimmy shouted as he walked into my room the next morning. “Can’t stay long today, there is a bitch of a storm out there, and apparently, they want to run some tests on your coconut, so visiting is being cut short. I’ll be back later, though.”

 

“Urgh,” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes after convincing them to open, “Good morning to you too.”

 

“So, spot any nurses you like the look of?” he asked, dropping into the chair that he had vacated the previous evening.

 

“Would it matter? they all think I’m gay for some reason.”

 

“Ah… yeah… about that…” he smirked.

 

“Don’t worry. I heard what you did for me… I don’t have words.”

 

“Don’t mention it, dude. What are friends for.”

 

“No, Jim,” I looked him in the eye. “You don’t get to play this one down. My own shit-stain family couldn’t be bothered to come to see their potentially dying son, but you lie about your sexuality so you can spend more time staring at my unconscious body.”

 

“And what a body it is!” he joked.

 

“You’re not my friend, man… not after that.” A look of concern flashed across Jimmy’s face, but he remained quiet. “This makes us family. If there is anything you ever need, I’ll be there. Blood makes people related; loyalty and sacrifice make you family. I won't ever forget this.”

 

Jimmy nodded, he didn’t have to say anything, but I could see that it meant a lot to him. It would be a while before I would learn exactly how much it meant to him, but for now, he just smiled, sat back in his chair, and in true Jimmy fashion, changed the subject. “So, which nurse do you like so far?”

 

“I’ve only met the one. I fell asleep pretty much as soon as you left.”

 

“Which one was that?”

 

“Amy.”

 

“Ah, I like Amy, she’s nice, wait till you meet Becky though… or Philippa… oooh, now they are some hot ass nurses.”

 

“And now that you don’t have to keep up appearances…” I smiled.

 

Jimmy flashed his eyebrows with a wink. “Tell you what, there will be a lot of broken hearts on campus if either of them shows any interest. Those ladies are marriage material… and Charlotte, hell, I’d cut off body parts if it meant getting a sponge bath off her.” He laughed.

 

“I heard that.” A blonde nurse said as she walked through the door, “I don’t think Charlotte works the amputee ward, but I can check for you.”

 

“Oh, hey, Becky,” Jimmy said with a comical wince. “Didn’t see you there. I was… err… just trying to keep my boy’s spirits up. You know, hospital food and all.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Becky said with a smirk before turning to me. “Your boyfriend is a pretty smooth talker.”

 

“Yeah,” Jimmy grimaced again, “about that...”

 

“Hmmm…” Becky scolded him, drawing out his embarrassment, “Amy told us about your lies, young man, although I guess Philippa wasn’t totally heartbroken when she found out about your newfound interest in women. I – on the other hand – have work to do with this handsome fella.” She put down the paperwork she was holding and walked over to the side of the bed.

 

“Ah, well then, let me introduce you,” Jimmy said with a grin, jumping to his feet. “This is Pete, handsome, funny, intelligent, charming, perfect boyfriend material, and all-round superhero. Pete, this is Becky, a nurse extraordinaire of unparalleled ability, grace, and beauty, diligently tending to your every need during your long absence. Her efforts alone are deserving of at least being bought a drink.”

 

Becky and I stared at Jimmy for a few seconds. “Is he always like this?” she asked me.

 

“You have no idea.”

 

“Does it ever work?”

 

“Annoyingly, yes, but in this case, he may have a point about the drink. I already thanked Amy last night, but I need to thank you and the rest of the nurses as well. Maybe flowers are in order.”

 

“Aww, your welcome, sweetie,” she smiled, placing her hand lightly on my shoulder. “You’re right,” she said, turning to the grinning Jimmy, “he is charming…” she moved away, back towards whatever task she had come in to do, “…handsome too.” She finished with a wink. 

 

I took that opportunity to have my first real look at Becky; she really was strikingly beautiful, not in that hot, sexy way that girls my age were – she was clearly a few years older than me, if evident only by the fact that she was a qualified nurse, she’d have to be at least two or three years older than me just to account for that qualification. Instead, she had that classical, almost regal beauty of a Hollywood starlet. Her delicate green eyes and perfectly symmetrical features were framed by a mane of flowing blonde hair that cascaded down past her shoulders. Her blue nurses’ scrubs were not the most flattering of clothes, but I could still make out the generous chest and slim waist flaring out into the curve of her hips. Even in the scrubs, her ass was a thing to behold.

 

I managed to pull my eyes away from her and back towards Jimmy, his shit-eating grin still firmly fixed on his face. He raised his eyebrows, code for ‘what do you think?’ I could only smile back. If this was the caliber of woman I would be surrounded by, an extended stay in the hospital may not be as bad as I had initially thought.

 

Becky busied herself with her work, checking my vitals on the machines I was still hooked up to and making exaggerated gestures of touching me for my temperature and so on, much to the amusement of Jimmy. However, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying it.

 

“We’ll have to give you a nice wash soon.” She grinned, the seductive tone in her voice obviously aimed at teasing Jimmy. “Maybe I’ll ask Philippa or Charlotte to come in and give me some help,” Jimmy gulped as Becky continued, “it’s a shame you weren’t awake for all the other times we’ve given you a bed bath.” She finished with a wink.

 

Jimmy’s jaw was on the floor. Becky turned her back to him and flashed me a dazzling smile, obviously enjoying the punishment she was dishing out and the discomfort it was causing my friend. I was suffering from my own discomfort and was trying – with no small amount of pain – to adjust my legs so my ‘discomfort’ wouldn’t start pitching a tent beneath my sheets. Becky noticed immediately, flashed a look to the offending area of the bed, and smiled but said nothing. I was grateful for her professionalism, even though she was the primary cause of my predicament.

 

“Alright, you,” she turned to Jimmy. “You need to bugger off now. I’ve gotta wheel him down for his MRI and EEG tests. He should be back in time for visiting hours this afternoon.”

 

“Don’t forget his bed bath.” Jimmy laughed, pulling himself to his feet.

 

“Philippa comes on at 12, so it won’t be until then.” She winked back, “but I’ll let her know you will be dropping by… if you’re a good boy.”

 

“I can be good.” Jimmy grinned. “Pete…” his eyes flashed between Becky and me, “…good luck.”

 

“Thanks.” I laughed.

 

“Later, dude.”

 

“Later.”

 

Becky made small talk for the next few minutes as machines were switched to battery power, disconnected from the wall sockets, and secured to the bed frame. The brakes on the bed were released after a few minutes, and I was wheeled out of the room. Despite being bed bound for the entire time that I had been conscious, being wheeled through the hospital corridors was the first time I genuinely felt like a patient and one that was in a pretty bad way.

 

The bedsheet had risen up, exposing the casts on both of my legs, and – passing a mirror in the hallway – I got my first look at the bandaging wrapped around my head, bandaging I hadn’t even realized was there. More than that, I looked terrible; my usually clean shaved face had been allowed to grow out, then cut back haphazardly, gifting me a look generally reserved for homelessness. My cheeks looked hollow, my eyes were surrounded by dark rings, and the faint remains of cuts and bruises could still be made out on the exposed parts of my head. Becky heard my gasp at my own reflection and quickly pushed me out of view of the mirror.

 

“Sorry about that.” She said apologetically. “We’ll get you all cleaned up as soon as your tests are finished. You’ll be as good as new in no time.”

 

I could only nod. Everything about my condition had been theoretical up until now; the pain meds had kept me blissfully unaware of the pain I should be feeling, my arm had been taken out of the cast whilst I slept, and my collarbone was mending nicely. So the outward signs of my injuries – at least the ones in my field of view – had been covered up for the entire time I had been awake. Having not attempted to stand or even move in any significant way, I had utterly failed to realize how extensive and severe my injuries had been, even though they were now almost two months into their healing process.

 

My thoughts were pulled back to the present by a sudden flash of light; Becky had wheeled me into a corridor that linked two of the hospital’s wings, a long, suspended walkway with full-length windows on either side. Jimmy wasn’t lying about that storm. Lightning forked across the horizon, lighting up the sky with brilliant flashes, the booming crack of the thunder following a few seconds later. The rain was streaming down the windows in enough volume to give the effect of being underwater. I had always enjoyed watching lightning storms, so I quietly looked out of the passing windows as more bolts hit their targets in the distance while Becky silently continued to wheel me toward my tests.

 

The EEG was pretty straightforward; electrodes were stuck to different parts of my head. I was asked some questions, asked to move my arms and turn my head, and any other movements I could physically manage. They flashed a strobe light into my eyes for a few minutes – apparently, epilepsy is a common side effect of my type of brain injury – it did nothing to help my headaches, but thankfully I remained seizure-free. Although the Doctor administering the tests couldn’t give me a concrete answer, he didn’t think my results were anything to worry about… “All things considered,” he added.

 

Half an hour later, I was in the MRI testing room. The gigantic donut-shaped machine loomed over my head, and – with my offers to help being shut down - two orderlies lifted me by the bed sheets onto the MRI’s testing table, setting me down with surprising gentleness for men who wouldn’t have looked out of place on the doors of a nightclub.

 

“Alright, Mister Roberts.” A voice came from some speakers around the room. I turned my head to see a technician in a windowed-off booth to my right. “We are going to put the top half of your body into the machine, and a bunch of magnets are going to take some pictures of your big beautiful brain for us. Before we start, I need to ask if you are claustrophobic?”

 

“No,” I answered plainly. I was getting tired now, despite not actually having done anything.

 

“Excellent,” the voice came back. “Okay, so I need you to keep as still as you can, it will be deafening and not the most comfortable experience you have ever been in, but it will only last a few minutes. You ready?”

 

“Good to go.” I managed a weak smile.

 

“Alright then, here we go.”

 

A series of quiet whirring motors started moving the examination table into the opening of the machine. I could immediately see how someone who didn’t like small places would have a problem here. My entire vision was filled by the beige circular plastic interior of the scanner. A series of dull thuds started sounding from all around me, in different places every time the magnets were spun around my head. The thuds became louder and closer together, quickly merging into a continuous deafening rumble.

 

“Okay, Mister Roberts,” the voice came from a speaker inside the machine, surprising me with the fact that I could hear it over the noise of the scanner. “We are about to start the test. Keep as still as you can, please.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Five minutes, and you’ll be out. If…” the voice paused, “what the?...”

 

The room outside the machine – or at least the small parts of it that I could see – went dark, and the lights shut off. “Oh shit!” the voice exclaimed as the rumble around my head started to grow louder, growing from a rumble to the roar of an aircraft engine. “Shut it down!” the voice shouted, “Shut it down now! Get him out of there!!!”

 

I frowned, barely registering the panic in the voice. My senses were overwhelmed by the noise coming from all around my head and the small sparks of light flashing from behind the plastic in front of me. A strange smell started wafting into my nose. It reminded me of the smell a clutch makes when its gears are ground into nothingness.

 

“Hit the emergency shutdown! Kill the power! Shut the fucking thing down NOW!!”

 

The voice seemed so far away now and so insignificant. The tiredness that had been building in me for the last hour or so now washed over me like an ocean wave. All I wanted to do was sleep.

 

“What do you mean it won’t shut down?!? Then pull him out! Grab his legs and get him the fuck out of there before his brain gets fried!”

 

“Dude, you need to chill the fuck out. I can hardly hear you over the noise, and I’m beat. Wake me up when it’s finished so I can go back to my room and sleep for a few weeks. I’m out!”

 

Darkness came… I greeted it gratefully.

 

********

 

 

Existence faded slowly back into being from the blackness behind my heavy eyelids. I was in a hospital room; the heart monitor next to my head, the sterile walls and ceiling, and the concerned look on the attractive middle-aged nurse and balding Doctor were all pretty clear giveaways. I was either experiencing a severe case of déjà vu, or something had gone wrong. More than that, something was… different. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was exactly. I just felt… different.

 

“Well, that was fun. How long has it been this time?” I asked sarcastically

 

“Only a few hours.” The doctor said, the relief clear in his face. “You gave us quite a scare.”

 

“What happened?” I groaned as my headache announced itself with a vengeance.

 

“Err…” the doctor and the nurse – no, Amy, that was her name – gave each other a nervous glance. “The hospital was hit by lightning while you were in the MRI. There was some sort of power surge, and the scanner overloaded; those magnetic waves can be harmful if not carefully controlled, and they were off the scale by the time they got you out of there. You had a seizure and lost consciousness.” 

 

“Awesome.” I huffed sarcastically. “Next time something like that happens, just let me die. Someone is obviously trying to kill me, and I’m too tired to fight it.”

 

“You do seem a little overdue for some good luck,” Amy said with a reassuring smile. She seemed to have some sort of maternal instinct towards me, not so much because of my injuries but because my parents hadn’t bothered to show up while I was in a coma. There was something about me and the situation with my family that resonated with her, especially since she found out she couldn’t have children of her own, and her husband had found someone who wasn’t quite as barren. Not an attraction, but more of an urge to take care of me…

 

I frowned. “Where the fuck did that come from? Apparently, errant MRIs cause an overactive imagination.”

 

I looked at the doctor… he just had a powerful desire not to be sued.

 

“No promises there, buddy.”

 

“Well, I hate to ask this twice in the matter of a few days… but am I alright?”

 

The doctor sighed. “To be honest, we don’t know.” He said carefully. “The magnetic waves used in MRIs are like X-Rays, in that they are carefully administered in small doses with an adequate period of time between uses to avoid a cumulative effect. That’s why we give patients MRIs and X-rays with no issues, but the technicians need to be in protected booths to administer the tests.”

 

“O…Kay…”

 

“When the MRI overloaded, you got substantially more than the normal dosage, and it was administered directly to your brain. To be honest, we don’t know how much damage was caused or if any damage was caused at all…But it would be reasonable to assume some kind of physical or neurological reaction to what has happened.”

 

“What kind of reaction? Are we talking about cancer here?” The knot in my chest was tightening.

 

“It’s… err… It's possible,” the Doctor answered after some thought, “but extremely unlikely. Considering your seizure, we are more worried about some form of epilepsy.”

 

“But most forms of epilepsy are very manageable with medication.” Amy added reassuringly, “and we are still talking in terms of ‘if’ at the moment….” She gave the Doctor a stern glance, “…we don’t know that there is anything to worry about, and we won't know until we can run more tests.”

 

“You’re gonna shove me back into another MRI, aren’t you?”

 

“Not while the storm is still around.” She smiled.

 

“Hmmmm.”

 

“I know it's not a nice prospect,” Amy said, placing her hand on my arm, “but we won’t know what has happened to you, or if anything has happened at all unless we look. We can rerun the EEG as soon as you’re ready, but if we want to make sure that you are okay and rule out any serious side effects of the accident – either of them - we need to run another MRI scan.”

 

“Can’t wait.” I sighed.

 

“What the fuck are you trying to do to me?” Jimmy’s voice boomed into the room as the door swung open and my friend strode towards my bed. The Doctor gratefully gave up his spot and took the distraction as an excuse to leave. “I turn my back for five minutes, and you go and almost die again! Are you trying to give me a fucking heart-attack? Is that what this is? You miss me so badly you want me to wind up in the bed next to you?”

 

I turned my head in an exaggerated gesture of looking at the walls on either side of my bed. There were no other beds in the room, let alone next to me. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Jimmy laughed out loud, and Amy tried unsuccessfully to stifle a grin and a quiet giggle.

 

“Becky called me.” Jimmy started.

 

“Wow, she moved on quickly.” I joked.

 

“She told me what happened,” Jimmy went on, sitting back in his chair and ignoring my joke. “Someone has got it in for you, dude.”

 

“She alright?” I asked, my question directed at either of the two people at my bedside.

 

“We sent her home,” Amy answered, “she was pretty shaken up. She and the orderlies had to physically pull you out of the MRI… while you were seizing… I’ll give her a call in a minute to let her know you are okay.”

 

“Tell her she still owes me a shave.” I smiled. Hopefully, that would cheer her up a bit, not the shave, obviously, but the humor might be enough to lighten her mood.

 

“And a sponge bath,” Jimmy added with a grin.

You are reading story The NewU Chronicles – Book 1 – The Whispers of Change at novel35.com

 

“Feel free to leave that part out,” I said, rolling my eyes. Amy laughed, nodded, touched my arm again, and turned to leave. She was indescribably grateful that I was okay, yet she was still worried that the MRI and other tests would come back with less-than-ideal results. She wanted so badly for me to be okay. She was also grateful for Jimmy; with a family like mine, I would need all the support I could get, and, despite his bravado, Jimmy was about as supportive as a friend could be. Impressive for two men of such a young age. Becky would be so relieved to hear I was okay. Nobody even considered that it was her fault; how could it have been? It was an accident, a freak, once-in-a-lifetime accident, yet she still felt responsible. She was inconsolable when they sent her home. This piece of good news would mean the world to her.

 

I frowned again. “This overactive imagination thing is getting a little out of hand.” But Amy was already pulling her phone out of her scrubs as she left the room. “No, It couldn’t be. That’s fucking ridiculous!”

 

“Hey, Earth to Pete…” I was dragged back to the moment by Jimmy.

 

“Huh? Sorry Dude, I was miles away for a second.”

 

“I asked how you are feeling?”

 

“Like my head has just been through a spin cycle on a washing machine full of your studded jeans.”

 

“Like a bad hangover then.” He laughed.

 

“Worse than last Christmas.”

 

“Ouch!” If Amy was grateful that I was okay, Jimmy was beyond words. When his parents were killed in a car crash when he was young, he was forced to live with a grandmother who made it perfectly clear he wasn’t welcome. He left home for college as soon as the law would allow and – much to his surprise – met me, the closest thing to a brother that he could ever imagine having. My words to him yesterday had moved him beyond his ability to articulate. He had walked home from the hospital with tears in his eyes, not just because I was okay but because I had echoed his sentiment. Calling the hospital that morning eight weeks ago and hearing what had happened to me had brought back some old and very traumatic memories for him. His playful and flirtatious demeanor toward the nurses and me was hiding a lot of pain, panic, and despair that had taken up an almost permanent residence in his gut. This morning – when he left for my tests – was the best he had felt since I had been here. He had been home for less than an hour when he got the phone call about the MRI incident, and all his fears had come back with a vengeance. That easy smile was all that stood between him and total panic.

 

“Alright, what the actual fuck! Jimmy is nothing if not the easy-going life of the party, and as much as I love the guy, he has the emotional depth of a puddle.” But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that he had never talked about his family. In fact, he barely mentioned home at all. I looked closer at him, his eyes sparkling with his smile but, every now and again, flashing uneasily at the machines all around us, or the casts on the bottom of my legs when the sheet rode up, or the tubes attached to my arm. He was smiling, but he was genuinely worried about my condition. “How the hell had I not noticed that?”

 

“Hey,” I started slowly. “You alright, man?”

 

“Me?” he asked in surprise, “I’m fine. Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

 

I arched an eyebrow at him. “You sure?”

 

His smile faltered for a second, then collapsed completely. “I never told you, but both of my parents were killed in a car wreck when I was 8, hit by a drunk driver. This has all brought back some hard memories for me, that’s all.”

 

“No fucking way!”

 

“You never said anything,” I said, my mind flipping over like an excited puppy.

 

“It's not something I like to think about.” He replied sadly, his eyes dropping to the floor. “But it’s been hard not to since… you know. Then spending weeks here with you, not knowing when - or if - you would wake up. I know it sounds gay, but I don’t think I could have coped with losing someone else in the same way, least of all you.”

 

“Holy shit!!”

 

“I’m sorry.” I said after a pause, “I had no idea. But I’m good, man. You’re stuck with me for a while yet, so you’d better polish up your chick magnet lessons, cos I am gonna be working on these nurses for as long as I’m in here.”

 

“I’ve got eight weeks of tutoring ready to go. I’ve had plenty of time to work on the material while you’ve been away with the fairies.” He laughed, the tension in his eyes dissipating a little.

 

Amy chose that moment to re-enter the room, “I’ve just got off the phone with Becky,” she said with a smile, “She is feeling much better now that she knows you are alright. She said to expect a visit from her in the morning for your shave.”

 

We all chuckled, the last of the tension evaporating in an instant. “Looking forward to it.” I smiled.

 

“I bet you are,” Jimmy laughed. “You need a shave badly. You look like a hobo.”

 

“Hey!” I barked, “We prefer the term ‘residentially impaired’!” Another round of laughter echoed around the room.

 

“Pete,” Amy guided the conversation back on track, “The doctor is ready with the EEG if you’re up to it. She can come up to your room and do it now if you like.”

 

“Aww, no more trips to the other side of the hospital?” I joked back. Amy rolled her eyes playfully. “Yeah, it's fine. I can do it now.”

 

“Do you need me to leave?” Jimmy asked

 

“No,” Amy replied in the tone of an acquiescent mother, “you can stay.”

 

Jimmy’s grin widened. “Thank you, Nurse Amy.” He said, imitating a schoolchild and drawing another round of chuckles from the room.

 

A stern-looking doctor with shoulder-length, light brown hair came into the room a few minutes later, dragging a cart full of equipment behind her as she approached. “Good afternoon, Mister Roberts,” she smiled and started unpacking her gear, “are you ready?”

 

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

 

“Excellent, so the test will be the same as the one you had this morning. Except that this time, we have the benefit of having those results and can compare this new test to the readings we took earlier… It should make things a little quicker, and it will be easier to identify any discrepancies.”

 

“Discrepancies?”

 

She paused and looked up from assembling her equipment. “There are three possibilities,” she said carefully, “firstly – and the most ideal – is that this test and the one from this morning show no abnormalities at all. The first test measured a set of normal brain waves, and this test confirms them. The second possibility is that both tests measure something out of the ordinary, given the scale of your injuries, the brain surgeries, and your time in a coma, this is probably the most likely scenario, but I should point out that the brain is a wonderful organ, it can perform some pretty amazing feats, so an abnormal reading doesn’t necessarily mean there is a problem; it could just mean that the brain has rewired itself to bypass the damaged areas. The last possibility is that this test picks up damage that wasn’t in the test this morning, an abnormality that has resulted directly from the accident with the MRI machine. That would be more complicated because we don’t actually know the extent of any damage you may have suffered from that type of brain injury, and that would need further investigation. However, the same caveat applies; an abnormal reading doesn’t mean that there is a problem.”

 

“I… Err… Okay.”

 

Jimmy remained quiet.

 

“Let’s get started, shall we?” The Doctor hooked me up to the machine, the electrodes being stuck to my head in the same places they had been a few hours earlier, and we ran through the same battery of tests. Much to our surprise, she was more than happy for Jimmy to participate in the test, we had both assumed that he would need to remain quiet, but the Doctor encouraged us to interact as much as possible, “The more brain activity, the better,” she had said.

 

However, as easy as the test was, and as freely as the conversation flowed between Jimmy and me, I couldn’t help but notice the confused frown growing on the Doctor’s face. After a few more minutes, she disconnected all the wires, tested the machine, unpackaged, and reconnected new wires, then repeated the tests. Her actions did not go unnoticed.

 

“Everything alright, Doc?” I eventually asked.

 

“There are… um… some unusual readings,” she said with a frown, her eyes never leaving the machine’s display. “but they are in a part of the brain that we usually don’t find much activity… and they weren’t there this morning.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Jimmy interrupted.

 

“It's like finding oil in a car,” she said quickly but without looking up. “If it's in the right place, then it's all good. If you find it in the petrol tank, then that’s not right and needs to be looked into. But if you find it spread all over the windshield, then something out of the ordinary is going on.”

 

Jimmy and I shared a frowned look.

 

“I’m gonna have to take these results back to the office, I have a hunch about what is going on, but I need to do some research, maybe confer with some colleagues. I should have an answer for you before the end of the day, but either way, I’ll keep you and your doctors informed.”

 

Before either Jimmy or I could think of an appropriate response, she had packed up her equipment and almost ran out of the office.

 

Jimmy spoke first. “Well, that was weird.”

 

“I… err… don’t know how to feel about what just happened,” I replied, trying to sound casual.

 

“Well, let's hope she comes back later with some good news.”

 

We both made idle – albeit nervous – conversation for the remaining visiting hours before Amy popped her head around the door and told us that it was time for Jimmy to leave.

 

“Let me know how the results go.” He said with a smile as he got up to leave, “and no fucking dying on me while I’m away.”

 

“No problem,” I answered with a smile, “I will wait for you to come back first, then I’ll die.”

 

“That’s all I ask.”

 

Amy - who was still standing by the door - giggled and shook her head. “Anything you need?” she asked as Jimmy left the room.

 

“Nah, I’m good, thanks, Amy,” I replied gratefully. “I’m a little tired, so I think I’ll just get some sleep.”

 

“Couple more days, and we might be ready to start you on food. You should have more energy then.”

 

“Sounds good,” I tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a yawn, eliciting another giggle from Amy.

 

“Sweet dreams.”

 

********

 

It was dark outside when I was shaken awake, only the dim light from the lamp on the other side of the room illuminating the otherwise pitch darkness. “Mister Roberts, you need to wake up.” A woman’s voice whispered loudly as she kept shaking me out of my slumber.

 

“Urgh,” I groaned, my entire body letting me know that it was in no way satisfied with the amount of sleep I had had. “What time is it?”

 

“I.. err… I don’t know; it’s late.”

 

It took me a few moments to recognize the voice and the increasingly clear face that had disturbed me. “Doc?” It was the stern-looking lady doctor who had taken my second EEG a few hours earlier.

 

“Yes, It’s Doctor Harris.” She said, finally satisfied that I was now fully conscious. “I’m sorry to wake you like this, but it couldn’t wait.”

 

“It’s gonna have to; you need to give me a sec.”

 

I shook myself, working loose the cobwebs and trying to coax every last ounce of alertness out of its slumber. I rubbed my eyes, noting somewhere in the recesses of my mind that the movement to bring my hands to my face didn’t hurt as much as it had done all day.

 

“Alright, I think I’m with you.”

 

“Good,” Doc Harris breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry to wake you like this, but the night staff work to a very tight schedule; it will be a few hours before anyone comes to check on you, and this is not a conversation for prying eyes or curious ears.”

 

“O…Kay.”

 

“Look, I could get fired for this, struck off the register even, I could lose my license, but this is important. I need you to concentrate!”

 

“Alright,” I mumbled, starting to get a little annoyed with the way that this whole conversation was going down. “I’m all ears.”

 

“Good,” she mumbled, reaching into a satchel by her feet and retrieving a stack of paperwork, “good, good, good…. Alright…” she thrust a piece of paper into my hand. I blinked at it a few times, trying to work out what I was looking at; as far as I could tell, it was a graph with dozens of zig-zagging lines scrawled across it. I raised an eyebrow at her. “…These are the brainwaves of a normal, healthy human brain.” She said, consciously trying to slow her speech. “This…” she pointed to one of the flatter lines, “… is what neuroscientists refer to as the theta wave. It is a throwback to our evolution, where primitive man communicated non-verbally. Body language, pheromones, that kind of thing, it’s almost completely dormant in modern humans.”

 

She thrust another piece of paper into my hand. It looked the same, except all lines other than the theta wave had been removed. “The Theta wave, like all brain waves, is a mixture of millions of different neurons firing in sequence. It isn’t just a single… thought. Think of it like music; all the instruments, the vocals, the harmonies, all of them combining together to form a single song.”

 

“I think I’m following,” I said, surprising myself by realizing that was actually true.

 

“Right…” she continued, “this is where it gets risky. Back in the 50s, there was a spike in the number of people who claimed to be psychic or clairvoyant… the Americans – in an experiment akin to MK ultra – started testing groups of these people to see if there was any measurable truth to what they were saying and to see if it could be… used. Now, most of the subjects were frauds and were sent on their way, but a handful of them were telling the truth, and when the Americans looked at their brain waves, they noticed trace amounts of abnormal activity in their Theta waves. Tiny little bumps in that otherwise flat line.” She gestured to the new piece of paper in my hand.

 

She handed me the third piece of paper, “This is your theta wave.” I looked down at the sheet. The Zig-Zagged lines were massive, at least in comparison to the flat line she had shown me before. “Nobody has ever seen anything like this. The most potent gift the American’s ever encountered was a man who correctly told the testers which playing card they were holding over a thousand times in a row without a single mistake. He could tell how people were feeling, almost empathically so… nothing that the Americans could use – he couldn’t psychically gain access to classified information or anything – but there was definite proof of what people now call ESP – ExtraSensory Perception. The wave patterns on the printout are cumulative, so it's hard to visually measure the level of activity in a wave from a single glance. But to put things into perspective, that man's activity was the equivalent of a molehill on that flat-line… yours would be three or four Mount Everests stacked on top of each other!”

 

This information was not as hard to understand as I would have thought, but the consequences were more challenging to process. “Okay, so what does this mean?”

 

Doc Harris took a deep breath as if searching for a way to answer the question. “There is a school of thought,” she started, “that thinks that our current understanding of Theta waves is wrong; that our prehistoric ancestors didn’t use them for non-verbal communication. That theory – and this new interpretation – both come from the fact that Theta waves are incredibly active all over the natural world; have you ever seen a flock of birds flying, and changing direction at the exact same time as if they are all operating with a single mind? Or the insects and small animals whose reflexes are so fast that they border on precognition? … They are all less developed than humans, so the thinking was that they are using the same neural systems that we used when we were less neurologically advanced. The new theory – however – postulates that these animals have actually been evolving for a much more extended time than humans and that these systems have developed over eons, systems which people don’t really need or use, and so haven’t developed in humans… yet. The new school of thought thinks that ESP, people with active Theta waves, are actually the next step in human evolution.

 

I stared silently at her for a few seconds.

 

“Somehow,” she continued, “the magnetic waves from the MRI, coupled with the extreme voltage from the lightning strike, a couple of faulty circuit breakers, and some extremely durable magnets, managed to create a field that activated a part of the brain which isn’t normally evolved in most humans.”

 

“So… Erm… what does this mean for me?” I asked eventually

 

Doc Harris sat back in her chair. “Honestly, I have no idea,” she answered with a shrug. “There are theories, of course, but most of them are just wild speculation. But given the details I have gleaned from you, I could make a few educated guesses.”

 

I gestured for her to continue.

 

“Well, for starters, you seem to be healing at a much faster rate than we would expect. I doubt anyone has taken any X-Rays of your internal organs or looked at your legs recently, but the break in your arm was pretty severe, yet it doesn’t seem to be bothering you that much.” I moved my arm, bracing myself for the dull throb that usually accompanied such movements, but there was little more than a twinge. “I bet – when they eventually get you back into another MRI scanner – they will find a miraculous rate of healing of the damage done to your brain and no physical signs of any additional damage done during the MRI accident. The ability to heal at an accelerated rate is one of the few abilities that most theorists agree on; most evolutionary traits are developed out of a necessity to survive, and an increased rate of healing injuries and illnesses would be a definite evolutionary benefit. The next step in that theory is the ability to control your own body…”

 

I furrowed my brow at her, “I can already do that,” I replied, “We all can.”

 

“Really?” she raised an eyebrow “can you lose weight or increase muscle mass at will? Can you directly control your own heart rate or metabolism? Can you make yourself taller or shorter with nothing more than a thought?”

 

“Err… no.”

 

“Me neither. But there are scientists out there that believe that, with practice and concentration, you may be able to do all that and more. That man in America could feel other people's emotions. With practice, you may be able to go further and actually be able to read people's thoughts. Look, there are hundreds, maybe thousands of ideas and theories out there about what you may be capable of, either now or in the future, but only you will know what you become capable of... if these abilities manifest themselves at all.”

 

“So, what do I do if these things do start happening?” I asked skeptically, “Do I come to see you?”

 

“No!” she blurted out much faster than I was comfortable with, “Absolutely not. Let's say you do develop the ability to read minds. How long do you think it will take for the military, the police, or some shady government agency to pull you off the streets to see if they can use you? Or cut you open to see if they can replicate the results? No, you cannot tell anyone about what I have said to you tonight, and you and I will never see each other again! I will destroy the results of your EEG and inform your doctors that the tests came back normal – which, aside from the Theta wave, they were. But under no circumstances are you to tell people of any new abilities you gain or even what we have discussed tonight. Society is not ready for super humans, and they will not take kindly to learning that one is in their midst. Fear is a powerful and dangerous emotion, especially in a large group of people… you need to trust me on this.”

 

“I’m getting the impression I should be thanking you.”

 

“A doctor’s first oath is to do no harm, that includes action or inaction; leaving you to go blindly into this would be the same as signing your death warrant – or at least your internment as a guinea pig warrant - I couldn’t live with myself if I let that happen.”

 

“Thank you, doctor,” I said after a long silence between us.

 

“Be careful, Mister Roberts.” She nodded as she collected her papers and stood to leave, “and good luck.”

 

With that, she was gone.

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