Tunnel Vision by Susan Adrian Read Free Book Online Page A

test, multiplied by a zillion.
    I don’t realize it’s a serious problem until I do two more, and my head explodes with pain. At that point I don’t have to tell anybody. My screaming probably alerts them just fine.
    I’m going to die. Pain burrows into my head, then swells to take over every inch. It hammers from the inside of my skull, trying to break free. Throbbing, sizzling pain. I can’t think, can’t move. Nothing in the world but pain, and my screams, over and over.
    Make it stop . Please. Make it stop.
    Liesel is there, and Dr. Milkovich and Eric and some other people. I can hear them, shouting orders, running. I can’t see them, because I can’t open my eyes. There is only pain.
    I want to die. It would make it stop, and that would be better.
    Someone pries my mouth open, thrusts something—things—under my tongue. They taste like Froot Loops.
    Within a minute or two the headache is completely gone. A sense of peace, calm, seeps into me.
    I open my eyes. There are six or seven people staring at me. I breathe, slowly, staring back.
    “Are you all right?” Liesel leans over the bed, her badge tapping against my arm. Tap. Tap. In rhythm. A good rhythm. I tap my fingers to it. Tap. Tap.
    I smile at all of them. “Hello.”
    “The medicine will give him intense calm and a feeling of well-being, like incredible pot,” a man in a doctor’s coat says blandly. “He’ll be like that for a couple hours; he will likely sleep. The pain should be gone by the time it fades.”
    “Hi,” I say. “You have nice teeth,” I say to Liesel. “White.”
    She sighs. “Okay, everybody but my team can go. Thank you for responding so quickly.”
    There is bustling, but I don’t mind. It sounds good, friendly. It makes me happy. I’m floating, I think. Floating away somewhere nice. Like marshmallows.
    “Oh, and Dr. Johnson?” Liesel says. “I’ll need a good supply of that drug. Thanks.”
    Yes. A good supply of that drug. Excellent.
    I smile at everybody. Then I fall asleep.
    *   *   *
    When I wake up Liesel’s the only one there, sitting in a chair by the bed. “Hello,” she says, fake bright. “It looks like you’ve had enough for the day.”
    I sit up, rubbing at my head. I’ve been de-suction-cupped, and the camera is off. “What happened?”
    “Your brain did some interesting gymnastics. It’s a good thing we had you on the EEG, or we would’ve had no idea what was going on. Are you okay now?”
    I shrug. There’s no pain, no calm. Normal. “My head isn’t going to fall off. That was quite a high, though. What the hell did you give me?”
    She smiles, proud. “It’s a new experimental drug for soldiers, called T-680. It induces theta level activity, to increase calm in battle. We gave you a rather large dose, hence the significant mood-altering. Aren’t you glad you’re working with DARPA?”
    If I weren’t working with DARPA I wouldn’t have had the blinding headache in the first place. So, I have mixed feelings. “That’s not enough for me,” I say. “Thetas, gymnastics? What did the EEG tell you?”
    I see her consider whether she should tell me. She nods. “Okay, let me try. It reported abnormal readings of delta waves during the … activity. Delta waves at any level are usually present only in deep sleep, but we’ve never seen delta waves quite like this.”
    Dad was right. Again.
    She has her scientist on now, full teaching mode. “When you finished an object, there was a period of theta wave activity followed by normal alpha and beta activity. But after the last one, your brain transitioned directly from delta to beta without theta transition. The T-680 put your brain back into theta, giving you a chance to transition.” She clasps her hands together. “We don’t know why it caused pain—”
    “Extreme pain,” I add.
    “—or why it happened. But if we hadn’t had the T-680 on hand, I don’t know quite how we would’ve stopped it.”
    Great. As if the