Tunnel Vision by Susan Adrian Read Free Book Online

word.
    I lean my head back in the chair. I’d had, still hiding in the back of my mind, some hope that I could wriggle away from this future that’s unfolding in front of me at the speed of their imaginations. Yeah, maybe it was foolish. But it was there.
    It isn’t there anymore.
    *   *   *
    After lunch we abandon the polygraph, thank God. Maybe now they know I’m telling “what I believe to be the truth.” I already showed them enough tricks to get their panties wet.
    Liesel leads Dr. Milkovich and me to another room, this one like a huge doctor’s office. It has a few chairs, a hospital bed, my old friend the video camera, and a new doctor adjusting a different, bigger machine with sprouts of wires and a digital monitor. I recognize it: an EEG. To record my brain waves.
    I stop, take a step back. “No.”
    “Jacob,” Liesel says, her voice soothing. Meant to be soothing; really, kind of grating. “You agreed to do tests. This is part of the deal.”
    The memory is vivid, bright. I was fifteen, and Mom and Dad and I were sitting on the sofa watching ER reruns. It wasn’t long before he died. The patient on TV had epilepsy, and they were hooking him up to an EEG. Suddenly Dad leaned over to me. Don’t ever do that, Jake, he whispered in my ear. Who knows what it would show. I nodded once. We never talked about it again.
    I take another step back, almost to the door. “You didn’t say anything about that . You’re not messing with my brain.”
    “This doesn’t do anything to your brain,” New Doctor says, smooth. “It’s not capable of it. All it does is record what’s going on. Like a blood pressure cuff, but for brain waves.”
    This guy doesn’t look much older than I am. In fact, he reminds me of Chris, big and stocky, but with red hair. He looks like he belongs on a farm, or in Oklahoma . Or maybe the Waltons . Except he has a doctor’s coat and a DARPA badge.
    “I know what it does,” I snap. “I won’t do it.”
    The doctors look at Liesel, who sighs. “Full, willing cooperation,” she says.
    Damn.
    The EEG setup isn’t as bad as I thought, about the same time frame and discomfort as the polygraph. While New Doctor—his badge says Eric Proctor—sticks suction cups all over my head, I wonder what else they have planned for me, what I’ve agreed to. I wonder what it will show.
    For now, I’m going home in a few hours—she promised—and that’s going to have to get me through.
    “So you’re Jake, right?” New Doctor says. “With all the fuss we didn’t get introduced. You can call me Eric.” He sticks another suction cup in gel and plops it on my forehead.
    “What, not Dr. Proctor?” I ask. I can practically see up his nose from this angle. “But it’s so fun to say.”
    He laughs. “That’s a good one. But I’m not a doctor. She is.” He points at Dr. Milkovich, writing notes as usual in a corner. “But you can just call her Bunny. Everyone else does.”
    She gasps, and color actually comes into her cheeks. Her round blue eyes glare at him. “ Eric . He is a subject .”
    He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean he’s not a person. We should treat him like one.”
    I actually feel a little better, for the first time since yesterday. “I like Bunny. It suits you.”
    She wrinkles her nose and starts writing again.
    “That’s it for the torture devices,” Eric says, and turns a few knobs on the EEG. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
    I see a bunch of lines appear, tracking across the screen, before he turns the monitor away.
    “Sorry, mate. Don’t want to distract you.” He nods to Bunny. “Ready.”
    She brings out the box, the red light on the camera goes on. Here we go.
    *   *   *
    I don’t realize there’s a problem until I’ve done three more objects, and my temples start to pulse. I don’t say anything. It’s a headache. I figure it’s normal to get a headache after this much tunneling. It’s a lot of mental effort, right? Like studying for a