He hoisted himself onto the gurney. His bare feet dangled off the side. Einstein came over to lick his toes. I tried to scoot her away but she was very persistent about certain things and toe-licking was one of them.
I took hold of one of his wrists and pressed my fingers into the tendons at the base. A steady pulse coursed against my fingertips. “The voltage must have triggered some sort of restart in the brain patterns.”
“But if there’s no long-term memory, why has he retained his motor skills? How’s he speaking to us?”
“Syringe and vial,” I said, and waited while Owen retrieved them from a sliding tray of surgical tools. I took the syringe from him and pushed back one of the boy’s sleeves. “Could be retrograde amnesia. The memories most likely to be lost are the most recent. Working backward it can go decades depending on the severity of the brain trauma, and it doesn’t affect motor skills.” I applied pressure above the boy’s elbow. “This might sting.” I glanced up at him. He was following every movement I made with his eyes. I plunged the needle into the blue vein at the crux of his elbow. As I pulled back the stopper, the vial filled with deep red blood.
“He didn’t even flinch,” Owen observed.
I slid the needle out of his arm. “Did you feel that?” I asked.
The boy stared down at the spot on his arm. “No.”
I poked his shoulder. “How about that?”
He shook his head.
At this revelation, I reached for the back of his hand and pinched it hard, like a kindergartner with a vendetta. No reaction.
“How…” I trailed off. “But there can’t be just nothing … can there?”
Owen rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I mean, twelve hours ago I might not have thought any of this was possible. We’re kind of dealing with the definition of uncharted territory here. How do you feel right now?” he asked. The boy’s brow lowered and his chin dimpled. “For instance, are you sad?”
The boy touched the back of his hand where I’d pinched it. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.” His jaw changed shape, teeth grinding beneath the surface, but otherwise his features remained impassive. Empty.
“That could just as easily be the lack of memory, though,” I figured. “Without memories, what’s there to be sad about, you know?”
“Amazing,” Owen whispered, and we both stood for a moment, he and I, basking in the secrets of the universe that the two of us had unlocked. “He’s truly a blank slate. Like a newborn baby in a teenager’s body.”
“For some reason I don’t think we’re going to be able to hire a babysitter for this one.”
“So then what?” Owen asked. “We can’t exactly hide him here forever.”
“We don’t. Hide him, I mean.” I held the vial and deposited the contents of the syringe into it, then capped it with a rubber plug. With a marker I labeled it Day 1. “You’re about our age, right?” The boy looked from side to side as if he wasn’t sure I was talking to him. “Right, stupid question. What I mean is, he comes to school with us.”
I stepped back and studied the two guys in the room. Compared with Owen, the strange boy was about four sizes bigger. His chest swelled where Owen’s caved inward, but the boy, I thought, could pass for one of the athletes. Maybe.
I rubbed my temples. I was suffering from severe caffeine and sleep deprivation. If this ended up being a horrible plan, I could blame it on both.
Owen sighed. “He needs a name if we’re going to make this work. I repeat, if.” As though we had another choice. “You want a name, don’t you, buddy?”
The boy cracked his neck. The popping of bones sent shivers down my back. “What kind of name?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Whatever kind of name you like,” I said, depositing the blood sample onto a test-tube rack.
“You can’t use Owen,” Owen butted in. “That’s taken.”
“Like anyone would want it.” I rolled my eyes. “Open your mouth wide.” He obeyed and I swabbed his mouth with a Q-tip, which I deposited into another vial for later testing.
The boy smacked his lips when I had finished, and I could practically see the cogs turning. Finally, once I’d shifted my weight several times over, he spoke. “Victoria, could you please choose?”
A pocket of air bubbled inside my chest. I couldn’t swallow, and just when I thought I’d refuse the honor, it came to me like a vision. It was inspired. It was biblical. It was hard proof that I hadn’t quite slept through all my Sunday school classes and that, occasionally, I listened to my mom.
“I’ve got it,” I said, breaking into a broad smile. “Your name, I think, is Adam.”
NINE
Preliminary test results taken within first 24 hours for processing: red blood cells uniform in size representative of 40% of total blood consistency; white blood cell count normal; blood serum—colorless, clear, without parasites or other bacteria; saliva pH—6.5
Conclusion: Safe for general population; will proceed with next stage of the experiment
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