Sigma One (20 page)

"About three years, " she answered. He noted her response in his pad.

"During that time did he ever use any medication you're aware of?"

"NO."

"No prescription drugs or over-the-counter drugs on a regular basis?"

"No. He's hardly ever been sick since I've known him," she replied not knowing for sure where his questions were leading, but fearing the worst.

"Did he ever have any seizures like the ones he's had today?"

"No!”

"Any allergies?"

"No."

"High blood pressure?"

"No"

"Anxiety attacks or violent mood swings?"

"No."

"Is he allergic to any medication you're aware of?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Any history in his family of diabetes or thyroid illnesses?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't think any of his immediate family has any of those problems? Why are you asking me these questions, doctor?"

Splevin put down his pad and looked over his glasses at her.

"It's just routine, Ms. Andrews. If we're going to treat Mr. Grayson, we have to have this information. We'll verify it with him when he comes around. Now may we continue?"

“
Uh, huh"

"Does Mr. Grayson use drugs? Does he use cocaine?" Splevin asked point blank.

Debbie paused. She had told the paramedic all this before.

"No!
Categorically no! Burt isn't that type of person!"

"Ever?
He never used drugs in your presence?"

"No. Never!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'd stake my life on it. I tho
ught I heard someone tell me he didn't have any trace of drugs in his blood."

"That was before," he answered.

"Before what?"

"Before we got the final lab results back."

Debbie's face grew pale. "What did the final results say? Did they show something different?"

"Not really. Only traces of dopamine."

"What's that?"

"It's a residual chemical often found in people who have a cocaine habit. It's a chemical the brain produces normally in small amounts. It alters one's moods. Long distance runners and other athletes have it in their blood streams in larger amounts than the general public." He then paused. "Mr. Grayson wasn't a runner, was he?"

"No," she answered.

"I didn't think so, judging from his physical condition when I examined him.

Debbie sat up in bed. "So what does this mean? Does it mean he used drugs---this chemical in his bloodstream?"

"We're not sure yet." Splevin then closed his notebook and got up and looked back at her as he approached the door. "That's all I need right now, Ms. Andrews. Thank you." He then immediately turned and left before Debbie could think of anything else to ask.

Debbie lay in bed six more hours before she was allowed to get up and get dressed to leave. She didn't sleep at all during that time nor did she watch TV. No one came in to see her except the duty nurse who wouldn't answer any of the questions she had about Burt. It was as if she were being held prisoner, although she knew it was probably for her own good because her head still ached slightly.

During the time she was incarcerated, she kept playing back in her mind the tragic events of the day; the video, Burt's attack at the cafeteria, the way he controlled the TV, his second attack. None of it made any sense at all. It was as if life was out of control and what was occurring was one big horrible mistake. Finally at 9 p.m., the duty nurse came in and released her. It took Debbie only five minutes to dress. When she was through, she turned to the nurse who was busy stripping the bed linen preparing for the next patient.

"How is Burt doing now?" she asked.

"You'll have to ask Dr. Splevin for a diagnosis, Ms. Andrews. I don't know. I did overhear one of the other nurses say he's sitting up in bed and appears to be doing fine again. If you hurry you can go in and see him before visiting hours are over."

Debbie didn't take time to brush her hair, instead she ran down the hall toward his room, nearly bowling over three nurses who were standing in her way as she rounded the final corner leading to his corridor. When she sprinted into the room, Dr. Splevin was standing over Burt talking to him.

"That's quite an amazing story young man." Debbie overheard Dr. Splevin say. "You mean to tell me you actually can control computers or microchips with your mind? Amazing! Unbelievable! But truly amazing. If I hadn't seen what you did with that 'IV I wouldn't have believed it myself."

Burt then noticed Debbie standing at the foot of his bed and reached out for her. The doctor moved aside and sensing the two wanted to be alone, made a hasty retreat still mumbling to himself about the unbelievability of what he had just been told by Burt.

When the doctor was out of earshot, Burt began to speak. "Debbie, I'm sorry I frightened you. I don't know what's happening to me. But one thing I do know is that I'm sorry that I scared you today. I'm scared myself, but I shouldn't have frightened you. God knows, if I had any control I wouldn't have."

Debbie drew near and stroked his brow. "You don't have to apologize, Burt. All you have to do is get better."

Although he appeared normal when Debbie walked in--discussing his project with the doctor--he was frightened to death inside. When the doctor had told him how close to death he had been, Burt experienced a flood of emotions. He was grateful he hadn't died. He was angry. He was frightened. He didn't believe it or want to accept it. It couldn't be happening to him. He felt there must have been some mistake. Little by little as the doctor explained the seriousness of his heart attacks, the truth began to sink in and Burt had become extremely agitated and sullen. He didn't know what the future would bring and he began to reevaluate his life and to think about all the things he should have paid attention to before he ended up where he was. He began to reevaluate the importance of his school project and his relationship with Debbie. He began to consider alternative ways of spending his time as the realization that he had arbitrarily led an unbalanced existence as a result of his dedication to work at the expense of harming someone who, by her heroic actions, must genuinely (-Are for his well-being. When the doctor informed him that no permanent damage had been done by either attack and that his chances for survival were good, the news made him feel slightly better, but not euphoric as one might suspect. Inside he was still tormented with fear wondering whether or not he could change like he so desperately wanted to; wondering if he would, indeed, as he planned, spend more time with Debbie and forget his work and enjoy life. The thought of change was what frightened him most, but he resolved he'd try.

"Debbie?" Burt asked reaching again for her.

"Yes." She moved closer.

"You believe me when I say I don't remember what happened don't you?"

She thought for a moment and then answered. "Yes, I believe you."

"I honestly can't remember anything that happened after I left the dormitory. It's all a fog. I don't remember the cafeteria or what happened after you came to see me earlier in the hospital. It scares me not to remember."

"I know it does," She answered. “It scares me too.” She could sense he was getting tired and spoke softly, almost in a whisper. His eyes were getting heavy.

"Don't think about it now. It'll all come back soon enough. You need your rest now. "

The secanol the doctor had given him was starting to take effect. Burt closed his eyes. As he lay there slowly falling asleep, Debbie sat quietly and held his hand. When it appeared he was in a deep sleep, she got up and left.

After three days in the hospital and having received a clean bill of health from Dr. Splevin, Burt was released. On his first day out, he and Debbie planned to take the short fifteen minute drive North to Morrow Bay to visit her mother and step-father and just relax and enjoy each other with nothing else special in mind planned. He wanted to make good on the promise he had made earlier to himself in the hospital, that is, to spend more time with Debbie and less time working, and he was the one who made the suggestion the two of them get away from it all for the long weekend. When Debbie heard his suggestion, she eagerly accepted and thought three wonderful relaxing days together was just what they needed.

But before they could leave, Burt had to see Hank Bailey, a local reporter he had promised to give an interview to. Bailey was an ambulance chaser who used his police band radio to get what few scoops there were to be gotten in that part of California. He had gotten Burt's name over the air on the day of Burt's first attack and wanted the details surrounding his medical problems thinking it would make a good human interest piece and had convinced Burt of that, too, or so he thought. Burt on the contrary, saw the interview as an opportunity to get a little notoriety for his successful experiment. So instead of driving north as they planned, they stayed in San Louis Obispo and spent time with Bailey.

During the interview, Burt told him as much as he could remember, and what he couldn't, Debbie filled in. When they were through answering Bailey's questions, Burt and Debbie left.

The article came out on the second page of the SLO (short for San Louis Obispo) Gazette the very next day. It didn't make the first page as Bailey had promised. The surfer's car accident did! The article wasn't very long either, although Burt and Debbie had to spend nearly an hour and a half with him-- most of that time spent answering questions about the experiment.

No, instead the editor had chopped the article to bits and all the time Burt spent describing the benefits to be derived from his success at thought programming went for naught. At the end of the article, only a brief mention of his work was made which frosted him for wasting his time. What appeared is shown below:

"COLLEGE STUDENT NARROWLY ESCAPES DEATH"

Nineteen year-old Cal Poly student, Mr. Burt Grayson, narrowly escaped death when he suffered a mild heart attack on October 28, 1990 at the Cal Poly student cafeteria at noon. Mr. Grayson survived this incident due to the heroic efforts of local paramedics, Angel Munoz and Roddy Simpson who managed to get Mr. Grayson to the hosp
ital in record time in spite of a major traffic accident that had 101 tie up in both directions for hours (see first page for details). After a brief stay in the hospital under the expert care of Dr. Gene Splevin, resident heart specialist, Mr. Grayson was pronounced in good health and released on Halloween. Mr. Grayson, a computer science major at Cal Poly, was apparently under a great deal of stress due to finals and because of the long hours he had been putting in on his class science project. Grayson described his project as "trying to create a new input device for personal computers." He calls the process thought programming and said details of the experiment will be released when he finalizes his results after Thanksgiving.

Amanda Yates had been working in the SIGMA ONE research department for nearly a week when she ran across the obscure article in the San Louis Obispo Gazette. During that stint in her new position she had spent nearly twelve hours a day in front of a computer screen and microfiche reader trying to find any reference she could relating to telekinetics, computers, new input devices for them, hypnosis, parapsychology, essentially anything that remotely related to SIGMA ONE. It was her assignment to find a suitable, and hopefully more stable, replacement for Dr. Jackowitz, aka O’Shaunnesey. At the time she finished scanning the article it was already eight-thirty at night and she was very tired from the long hours she had already put in that week. Had it not been for her dedication to SIGMA ONE and especially to Pat, she wouldn't have been there that late. Had it not been for the fact that she had once had a cousin that lived in Santa Maria, a neighboring town to San Louis Obispo, she wouldn't have even noticed the article, let alone read it. As it happens though, she was dedicated, and she did both notice and read the story.

She wasn't certain the article meant anything significant, even with its reference to thought programming, but it was the only thing she had found all day that was even slightly related to her assignment and might give her the excuse she needed for a trip down the hall to report her findings and to see Pat.

She scanned the article again and rationalized that such a story did warrant the visit and quickly made a copy, after which she flicked off the machine and got up from her desk and stretched. Noting her blouse and skirt were wrinkled, Amanda tried to brush most of the larger wrinkles out with her hand before fixing her makeup. The wrinkles were stubborn, but finally gave in and once she was satisfied she looked presentable, Amanda coyly unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse and sprayed on some expensive perfume named Poison and left, article in hand.

When she arrived at Pat's office, he looked up from the paperwork which was spread out covering his desk and smiled. He was happy to see her and immediately noticed her open blouse, causing him to put his pencil down and stare, momentarily forgetting his work entirely.