“Why is it important to both of us?”
“The song was playing—well, it marks a special moment in our lives together. That’s all I can tell you right now.”
“Are you not physically able to say more? Or are you choosing not to tell me?”
“Touché. My answer is a little of both.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Are there other songs you remember, ones that I have not played for you?”
“I think so. There’s a simple melody in my head.”
“Can you hum or whistle it for me?”
“I do not have a whistle.”
“Try humming it for me…”
“Was that okay? Do you recognize it?”
“That was very good. I do recognize it. I like that song very much, but it always makes me sad.”
“Is that why I remember it?”
014
There is no ceremony, announcement, or even a warning from Dr. Kuhn, or Anne as you are now supposed to call her, regarding your eyesight. On this day you simply wake and see.
The room is dark, but it is much less dark than it was before. The lumpy topography of your legs and torso under the sheet and blanket is a welcomed sight. You say to yourself, “I used to see like this all the time,” and you believe it. You hold your hands up and you watch them turn over and flex into fists.
You sit up. Your formfitting, short-sleeved shirt is not white. Perhaps it’s green. You remember what green is, don’t you? The walls of your room are smooth and you think they are white, but you can’t tell because it’s still dark. The treadmill in the corner of the room is smaller than you imagined it to be. You look at the walls again, and then the ceiling, and the doorframe to the bathroom, and the outline of the recessed door that has yet to open when you’ve been awake.
“I see you can see, ______.” Anne laughs. Is she delighted by her wordplay or that your eyes have regained sight? Maybe it’s both. In recent conversations she has encouraged you to not restrict yourself to solely thinking in binary. Black or white, this or that, right or wrong were her examples of binary thinking.
“Yes, I can. How can you tell? Do you have the ability to see through my eyes?”
“No. I can tell by watching your behavior; how you are now aiming your wide, beautiful eyes around the room.” She laughs again.
“My eyes are beautiful?”
“Yes, they are.”
A patterned grid of rectangular ceiling panels begins to glow. The light increases in intensity, dissolving the shadows within the room.
Anne tells you that it will take a few minutes for you to adjust to the light. You squint and are patient as your pupils shrink in size, working to adjust the amount of light exposure to your retinas.
A panel slides open on the wall to your left, exposing a darkened block of glass. Within the glass is a small, reversed image of you sitting in your bed.
“Please direct your attention to the screen.”
The screen fills with a wide, empty field of green-and-brown grass. The tall grass sways and undulates in the wind. You hear a whoosh and rustle, and you are inexplicably moved to tears by the combination of image and sound. Above the field is an equally wide blue sky dotted with tufts of white clouds. One cloud inches its way across to the top of the screen.
You remember green and recognize your T-shirt is a different kind of green. You say, “I remember that place. I’ve been there,” which might not be true, but it feels true, and that’s okay because you are expanding beyond binary thinking, beyond true and not-true.
018
Anne puts you through your paces (her expression).
You complete a pyramid of push-ups starting with fifteen, then resting ten seconds, then fourteen, and continuing until you end with one arms-shaking push-up.
Later, “Walk” becomes “Jog” becomes “Run.”
You do not fall.
020
“Anne, I would like to see that open field again, or watch another film about the deep oceans, please. Or another orchestral performance.”
“First, we’re going to play a word-association game. When I say a word, I want you to give me the first word or words that you—”
“Yes, yes, I understand.”
“Are you in a bad mood?”
“Yes, I think I am.”
“Any particular reason why?”
“I want to watch the films I requested and…”
“Yes, ______, go on.”
“I want to leave this room.”
“I promise you will leave this room, but neither of us is ready for that yet. Your immune system hasn’t been brought up to speed quite yet.”
“If I can’t leave, you need to tell me more about me and more about us and where I am and why I’m here.”
“I will start doing that soon.”
“You will?”
“Yes.”
“Why not now? I want you to do it now.”
“We’re going to play a word-association game. When I say a word, I want you to give me the first word or words that you think of. This is important, ______.”
“Why is it important?”
“These games help recover more of your memory and language fluency. Your brain is not so different from your muscles insofar as it needs to be exercised and strengthened after so much time asleep. Just like the treadmill is more effective for your muscles than cardiovascular electrical stimulation, there’s only so much cognitive and memory augmentation I can achieve without your—your active participation.”
You are getting angry and you will not give her the satisfaction of asking her to explain the how of “memory augmentation,” even assuming she answers your question directly.
Anne continues, “For example, remember our discussion about having the ability to use metaphor in speech?”
Of course you remember, and you remember then trying it out by describing the lights in the ceiling as having a similar appearance to a checkerboard. You know what a checkerboard is but have no memory of playing the game.
“Are you mad at me, ______?”
“I wish you’d stop asking me what I remember from only three days ago.”
There’s a brief but troubling period of silence, so you say, “Anne, are you still there?”
“Bird.”
“I don’t feel like doing this. I don’t want to do—”
“Bird.” Anne repeats herself when you don’t answer. “Bird.”
You say, “Fly.”
“Cloud.”
“Me.”
“Me? Why did you answer with ‘me’?”
“I don’t know. It’s what I thought of. You’re breaking the rules of your own game by asking me to explain.”
“Very well. Sky.”
“Blue.”
“Family.”
“Gone.”
“Us.”
“Us?”
“Yes, us.”
“Well, you tell me we’re partners.”
022
“Please approach the screen.” The screen is blue. Not the same blue as the sky but a different blue.
“When a red dot appears on the screen, touch it as quickly as you can, with either index finger.”
“Very good, ______. What you see now is a maze. Please drag the blinking icon in the lower left along the correct path to the maze’s exit in the upper-right corner. Each map you complete will become more difficult.”
“Nicely done. Yes, I’m quite pleased by number of mazes solved. You’ve earned a break from the challenges. I have a treat for you. Under your bed is a set of virtual-reality goggles. Go back to your bed, face the room, and then put the goggles on.”