The doctor desperately suppressed a yawn before he started; it had been a long day.
No. It had been a long morning followed by a long day followed by a long evening and, finally, what had the makings of a long night. He had spent every minute of that time testing, analyzing and theorizing about Jorge Benjamin Stone, a three-year-old riddle of a boy.
“Your son is fine,” he blurted out as their mouths started to form an assault of questions. “He has a good bump on his head but no lasting damage.”
“Dr. Maple,” Ashley said. “I doubt it took you all day to tell us that.”
“Well, of course, no,” he stumbled. “I ran those extra tests.”
“And..?” Trevor encouraged an answer. “What did you find?”
Ashley stared at him in a mixture of anger and surprise. She suddenly realized that he had ordered their son to be thoroughly examined, like a specimen in a research lab.
“I…I’m not really sure,” the doctor admitted.
“You poked and prodded him all these hours and you’re not sure?” Trevor treated the doctor like a field General who failed an assault.
“What did you do to my son? You didn’t hurt him, did you?” Ashley’s anger blossomed in the red of her cheeks. Anger at both of them. Anger at her son being treated like a guinea pig.
Dr. Maple held up his hands defensively. “Nothing! No, no, everyone relax. We did only the least obtrusive of tests. He barely felt a pinprick. In fact, it seemed to me your son enjoyed the entire process. Nonetheless, for all our work the tests-the scans-can only provide a snap shot. Some of our brain specialists were able to do a little more but-”
“Brain specialists?” Ashley shouted and alternated death-dealing glares between the two men.
“What did you find?” Trevor repeated, ignoring Ashley’s anger.
“You’re son, he is extraordinary.”
“Yes, thank you, but what did you…” Trevor stopped himself. Dr. Maple had not offered a casual compliment. He offered his analysis. “What do you mean… extraordinary?” the father changed his tone.
Dr. Maple led them both to seats next to his desk.
“Your son…his mind…his brain,” Maple struggled to find the description and decided it best to retreat and start somewhere approximating the beginning. “For all our science and technology, we still know very little about how the brain works, how it does the things it can do. It controls our involuntary reflexes and all of our bodily functions. Like the computer at the center of each person. But so much more; personality, senses, perception, memory…so much. Yet the normal human being accesses and uses only a small percentage of the cells inside the brain.”
Ashley trembled as she asked, “And…and my son?”
“You realize I can not draw any conclusions from the rushed tests we did today,” he covered himself. “I would need weeks…maybe months to truly develop a real understanding-”
“And my son, doctor?” Ashley insisted.
Maple heaved a deep breath.
“It appears to us that he is accessing and utilizing a higher percentage of his brain than we ever thought was possible. You have to understand, there are a large number of cells inside the brain that science has always assumed were there just as protection. Yet in Jorgie’s brain they appear to be active.”
Dr. Maple fidgeted as he grew excited.
“But what does that mean?” Trevor needed an answer.
“I don’t’ know,” Maple admitted. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Is he in danger? Is his health in danger?” Ashley panicked.
“I don’t think so, but I have no way of knowing. You have to understand,” Maple struggled to boil the complex data and observations into something he could translate to laymen.”Science has identified more than 300 types of neurotransmitters in the human brain.”
“Neurotransmitters?” Trevor repeated the word.
Trevor’s access to the genetic memories of humanity had not included much in the way of health sciences info. Instead, those memories focused on weapons systems, fighting techniques, marksmanship, and flying attack aircraft.
“Chemicals that transmit across synapses in the brain. Each of the known types is associated with different functions of the brain. For example, um, Acetylcholine transmits messages to the heart, other muscles, and sweat glands. Serotonin is associated with the process of learning and consciousness.”
“And..?” Trevor led.
“And we’ve found indications that your son has three, maybe four times as many types of neurotransmitters in his brain. With more tests we could confirm that, and maybe understand.”
“No more tests,” Ashley said.
Trevor did not argue. He still struggled to understand the meaning. He said, “He has more of these neurotransmitters than the average Joe?”
“A lot more types,” Maple put a fine point on it. “His brain is doing things we don’t understand. It has more functions…more uses…more ability…deeper consciousness-I do not know. We just don’t know.”
Ashley threw her hands into the air in frustration and repeated her question, “But doctor! What does it all mean?”
Dr. Maple’s voice rose a little but not to the point of disrespect. “I…don’t…know.”
Trevor’s eyes gazed off at some yet-to-be-revealed truth as he spoke.
“Someday…someday we’re going to find out.”
20. Battle at the Top of the World
A slab of rock protruded from the sea of white like an island in the middle of a frozen ocean, perhaps coughed up from beneath the surface as the result of an ancient earthquake or other disturbance.
Whatever the cause, this sanctuary from open ground covered a square mile with edges surprisingly defined, as if nature purposely grew a fortress to command the surrounding plain of snow and ice.
A lip of rock reaching as high as five feet tall at spots composed the outer ‘wall’ while boulders, mounds of dirt, snow and more rock walls created a sort of maze within.
This strange stretch of rock was not Jon Brewer’s final destination, merely an interesting sight on his journey across the glacier. However, it quickly became the most important piece of real estate on the planet. Jon and his expedition raced for that stretch of defensible territory because their lives-and perhaps the continued existence of mankind-depended on it.
“C’mon damn it! Hurry!”
Jon abandoned the SUSV command module for a fast-moving snow mobile, leading other snow mobile troops ahead of the main force as they marched in a northeasterly direction.
A half mile away, an alien army moved parallel to the human one. Like Jon’s force, the enemy traveled primarily on foot although several elephant-sized fur-covered lizard-things served as pack animals and the enemy also drove a couple of big, two-seat vehicles with three thick, huge wheels, making them resemble a grown up version of a tricycle.
As he led the race for the only defensive ground for miles, General Brewer experienced a feeling of deja vu. More specifically, the situation felt eerily similar to the Battle of Five Armies.
Four years ago, the small band of human survivors-a fledgling army-hurried to occupy the better fighting ground. Back then, the ground had been a series of mountains outside of town. This time an island of rock. In both cases, the enemy was the same.
Nicknamed the “Vikings,” no one knew their real name because none survived the battle four years ago, but Jon remembered their cunning, their bravery, and their tools of war.
As had been the case in the mountains, the Vikings’ ponchos changed color to blend with their surroundings, in this case pure white. Those ponchos covered the entire bipedal, humanoid beings from head to toe with the exception of thick goggles providing eye protection. This time the ponchos appeared more substantial, perhaps a hardier fabric or deeper layers to keep the cold at bay.
Despite having lost four men in two separate surface collapses during the journey, Jon’s force appeared to outnumber the Vikings by a dozen or so. Those collapses into air pockets and ice caves not only cost four soldiers, but also valuable time: nearly two whole days had elapsed since their arrival in Greenland. The race did not go well.