Divisions - James Gerard (english love story books TXT) 📗

could imagine such technology existed, he needed to know.

 

As with the past two days, Paul scanned the streets ahead and once again the area was void of cars and the sidewalks empty, yet this time he thought it a peculiar situation.  Granted, he was well aware that the building was in an industrial area of the city, yet the mere absence of activity signaled little or any industry was taking place.  But it mattered not since the only activity he was interested in was occurring just on the other side of the street.

 

Stepping into the lobby, Paul expected to see the young woman that greeted him the day before but she was nowhere in sight.  Figuring he was on his own, he wasted no time and approached the elevator.  To his surprise, the doors automatically slid open without being cued to do so.

 

A chime signaled the arrival to the second floor.  As soon as the doors opened Paul went directly to Lien’s lab and saw her talking with a man.  With their backs turned and attending to some scribbling on a clipboard, he walked up behind the two unaware that he had entered the room.

 

“Good morning.”

 

The two jerked and gasped, then spun around.  “Oh, Doctor Hatford, it’s you.  You scared me.” said Lien.

 

“I know you,” Paul said while staring into the face of the man.

 

“I am Troy.  Jeffrey’s great grandson.  We met the other night.”

 

Paul suddenly remembered and declared, “Yes, that is where I know you from.  I take it you are part of the research staff by your presence.”

 

“I’m the technical expert sort of speak.”

 

“Oh my,” responded Paul, “Jeffrey must hold your expertise in high regard to assign such a young man as yourself to such an important project.”

 

“Easy Doctor,” Troy stated, “All I did was create all the software for him—that’s it.”

 

“Well young man, based on what I’ve seen so far I venture to guess that you attained your skills from the prestigious Massachusetts Institute of Technology?”

 

“MIT,” Troy chuckled, “Yeah, I pulled my degree out of a box of cereal.  Look, with all due respect Doctor, my great grandfather added you to this project to produce.  So, do you have any useful advice?”

 

“That depends.  Lien showed me something remarkable yesterday, but I do not see the connection in restoring normal brain functions.”

 

“What, the stupid mice running around in circles?”  

 

“I still….”

 

“I may have failed to reach an understanding with you Doctor Hatford,” spoke up Lien.  She turned to Troy.  “What he saw was our first step.  My intentions were to bring him slowly along before showing him the process….”

 

“Did you show him,” Troy grumbled, “tell him anything?”

 

“No.”

 

“Pardon me,” Paul said, “but what are you two referring to?”

 

“Just wait a minute,” snapped Troy.

 

“This thing you are not telling me,” Paul snapped back, “is it in regards to the specimens with damaged neurons?”

 

Troy looked at Lien.  “Well, tell him.”

 

“Look,” said Lien, “like I told you, we’ve been working on ways to retrieve and store information….”

 

“Just tell him,” shouted Troy.

 

“The one way transference of information from one healthy specimen into….”

 

“Into what?” Paul asked.

 

“Into….”

 

“Stop,” Paul screamed.  “Why am I here?  What have you not told me?”

 

Lien stepped to Paul and softly said, “Please, I can only imagine how frustrating this is to you.  But….”

 

“Do not treat me as if I were a child!  Despite my age I am not an invalid.  Why long before either of you were born I was….”

 

“Look Doctor,” Troy shouted, “all we need to know is why did the process fail.  That is why you were brought in here for—to advise.”

 

“To be an advisor,” Paul snapped, “I need to know what you two are hiding.”

 

“Okay Doctor.  That we can do.  Show him the tape Lien.”

 

She walked over to a desk, pulled a disc out of a drawer, and then inserted it into a computer.  Paul looked to the monitor and carefully scrutinized the scene unfolding before his eyes.

 

Two mice were framed in the shot, one capped with the electrical nubs seemingly sampling the smells of the table, while the other, also capped with the nubs, lay still as if asleep.  As he tried to put logic to work, the scene instantly erupted into a horrific battle between two combatants viscously attacking one another.

 

“So,” Paul exclaimed, “what did that mean?”

 

“The results of the transference between two healthy specimens,” said Troy.  “The one that appeared asleep had never been exposed to any environmental stimuli whatsoever—its brain was empty Doctor Hatford.  So why the reaction?”

 

Paul hesitated to answer.  Still not fully understanding what the ultimate goal of the research entailed, he took a deep breath and silently reminded himself that he was a man of medical science.  He also accepted the fact that he was way in over his head.  He then calmly responded, “I wonder if it could be just a matter of the stimulus being stored in the same area, but in a slightly different location based on the slight variations of physiology between the mice.”

 

“And?” asked Troy.

 

“If you will, imagine that what occurred may be the result of physiological differences, slight variations of frequencies in how each individual processes information based on visual, olfactory, auditory, and tactile stimuli let’s say.  Certainly, one hard of hearing can only store the information based on what could be heard.  The same for one with failing eyesight who can only process the stimuli seen either with or without the glasses—either way, the specific stimuli would be processed and specifically stored based on how the brain processes the stimulus at a certain frequency.”

 

“So, there was nothing wrong with the transference of the information itself, it was just a matter of not knowing where to go specifically?”

 

“Perhaps…maybe…I am not sure.  The brain is a highly sophisticated organ, if you will.  But I still do not see what your objective is.” 

 

“That’s it,” Troy shouted and ran out into the hallway.

 

“What is that about?” asked Paul.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Minutes later, Troy rushed back into the room and held out a piece of paper towards Paul. “Jeffrey wants to meet with you tomorrow at this address.”

 

As soon as Paul took hold of the paper Troy raced out of the room.  He then looked to Lien, “What is going on here?”

 

The memory of the student who had never backed away from a challenge no matter how tough, came in the mind in juxtaposition with the sight of her walking away as if in shame.   Her eyes were flitting about and welling up with tears.  It seemed she was doing everything she could to withhold the truth.  Paul walked up from behind and whispered, “Tell me Lien, what is going on?”

 

“Oh my God,” mumbled Lien as the tears streamed down the face, “what have I done.”

 

Paul reached out to embrace her, but before he could wrap her in his arms she took off through the door.  The sound of sobbing filled the hallway.

 

The spring and power from legs long lost to age, Paul could only stand there in confusion.  He then looked to the paper, at the scribbled address, and figured the opportunity to uncover the truth would have to come through Jeffrey.

A Message from Youth

 Paul kept squinting at his watch and tapping a finger on the table waiting for Jeffrey to arrive.  But in a flash of a moment, he felt relaxation embrace the mind.   The view of the brown patches of dying grass kept barely alive by the pristine blue sky and the playful sight and gleeful laughter of children playing in the park with utter joy popped up into the conscious.  The neck cracked as the head tilted back.  The sun’s waves of heat not only bathed the playing field with life giving rays of light, but the Autumn sun also penetrate the overcoat with warmth.

 

“Now this is what I should be doing in the time I have left,” sighed Paul as memories of a former life came into the mind.  Unexpectedly, the thoughts plaguing the mind with suspicion over the events at the research facility melted in the cool of the day.  He smiled and thought if he died at that very moment he would go in peace having been fortunate to have lived too many years past the prime of his life.  

 

The playful field of vision before him evoked vivid memories of him and his childhood friends gathered together for a pick-up game of football.  As if it were yesterday, the details of the pass, the football’s arching path hitting Danny’s hands in stride, and the sight of him leaving Iggy in the dust as he raced into the makeshift end-zone evoked laughter.

 

The idyllic scene also brought up thoughts of his dear departed wife.  He knew she would also enjoy the simple pleasures of the café cozily sitting just at the edge of the field of grass, but quickly realized what would have been more important to her would have been occasions where her boys and their wives, their children and their children came back home for visits.  Still, he could not help but to think that she would have thoroughly enjoyed the intimate setting with her husband as the sun set on their lives.

 

The temptation to leave, to walk away from meeting with Jeffrey and the polluted ugliness lurking in the minds of those at the research facility, spoke loudly.  At the same time, a voice cried out to stay.  The idea that they were more than just merely bending ethical and moral standards irked him hard.  A personal vow recited so many decades ago, a vow to which he declared a solemn oath to preserve life at all cost reared up in rage, stood ready to uncover and reveal the intentions of those that felt secured behind a veil of secrecy.   

 

Paul suddenly flinched as something rattled the chair.  He looked down to see a ball rolling around the ground. He then scanned the field ahead to see if there was a child sprinting to retrieve it, but none was spotted.

 

A thought once again tickled the memory of that pass thrown to Danny and made its way into time present.  He smiled with a rush of excitement, thought if just one more time to take the ball and toss it with all the might of an ancient arm back to the field.  But just as he rose to pick the ball, up a young boy came walking towards him.

 

“Here young man, catch.”

 

“If you do not mind,” the young man said, “could I sit with you for a moment?”

 

“Are you not having fun?”

 

“Fun you ask?  Not really; although I should be.”

 

“That’s rather strange for such a young and energetic boy to say.”

 

“You know, at one point this activity may have been pleasurable, but it all seems a waste of time.  Maybe there are more worthwhile activities Doctor.”

 

Paul immediately tried to place the face of the young boy after hearing him utter the title "Doctor."  He wondered if he were the relation of a colleague, a friend, or someone who brought him to the university one day.  But unable to place the face he asked, “Do I know you?”

 

“I do not think so.  But I am a great grandson of Jeffrey McKay.”

 

Paul smiled.  “Of course.  Now I see the resemblance.  Well young man, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

 

“The pleasure is mine Doctor.”

 

“Is your great grandfather here?”

 

“He told me to