Neural Path

Laura’s face remained intent, mouth slightly open as her eyes moved back and forth across the screen. Finally she closed them, tension gathering along her brow. When she opened her eyes, she tapped the desk and turned back to the examination chair.

“I’m uncomfortable with this.”

“You think it’s stupid,” Derrick replied.

“No.”

“Then what?”

She shook her head. “You haven’t thought it through.”

Derrick settled into the chair. He looked at the ceiling. “Jealousy.”

“Derrick, this is like jumping off a cliff and hoping the water is deep enough. We should take this to Wexler,” Laura said.

“We? I knew it.”

“Ok. You.”

Derrick shook his head. “No. All I want you to do is track the monitors. I’m taking the dose. I know the risk. I’m asking for objectivity. That’s all.”

“Because you’re going to go out of your mind.”

“Nothing worse than what happens at keggers every weekend.”

Derrick met her eyes. His ankles were already strapped in, and he closed the cuff over his own wrist, leaving one arm free. When she found him like this, she thought he was confessing some fantasy.

“I’ll take the dose. You close the cuff and watch. That’s all.”

“You don’t even know if humans have the nerve receptors,” Laura replied.

“In combination, not a single bonding site.”

Laura looked away and closed the laptop lid, not wanting to look at the data again. The numbers were right. Derrick had put something together she had never considered. New. Infuriating. Once he laid it out, she realized that she should have thought of it.

Derrick was watching. “You want to know as much as I do.”

Laura stood and went to the locked pharmaceutical cabinet. She fished the key from around her neck. Opening it, she retrieved a brown bottle and checked the label before locking the cabinet.

She held the bottle up.

“I’m putting you out and going to Wexler if it gets out of hand,” Laura said.

“Deal.”

She shook her head and set the tranquilizer on the table.

Derrick took a breath and shook his free hand. He lifted the mister and slid it in one nostril. Laura stood back, not wanting that stuff in her system. It hissed when he pressed down the button. He repeated it with the second nostril and laid the mister down, sliding his hand into the cuff.

He looked at the ceiling. Laura looked at the heart monitor. His heart rate had gone from 50bpm to 95bpm. At least he was nervous.

She reached for the cuff. He still had his watch on. She undid the buckle and slid it off. Derrick didn’t move but sighed when she closed the cuff, cinched, and buckled it. She checked the connections on the conical skull cap. Light blue, it looked like a miniature version of the conical hats Asian farmers wear but metallic with a bundled wire trailing from the back like a ponytail.

His heart settled, dropping back to 70bpm. Respiration fell. Blood oxygenation normal. He kept his eyes closed, and his face was placid.

“You ok?” Laura asked.

“Mmmhmm.”

She opened the laptop and looked at the summary. Pheromone bonding via the olfactory nerve leading to a limbic cascade. Potential amygdala involvement. Paradoxical effect regarding cognition. Each piece worked and made sense, but Derrick had assembled the pieces into a potential system.

You didn’t smell the chemical like a spice or flower. The body bonded to it, sending signals to both higher cortex and reptilian functions via the olfactory nerve. Unlike stress reduction where the amygdala fired, indicated danger, then the mammalian brain made a more sophisticated evaluation and put on the brakes, the chemical would put them into sync. Reptile brain says it’s time for reproduction, and the mammalian brain agrees. The more you thought about it, the more aroused you would become.

She glanced at the heart monitor. Down to 65. Oxygenation still good. The neurological monitor showed his brain from the front and side. Activity remained normal, the synapse activity looking like static buzzing around the brain like a haze.

She looked up. Derrick was watching.

“Everything good?”

“So far.”

“How are you feeling?”

He shrugged. “Should bring up Pornhub and make me watch it.”

“University firewall blocks it.”

He chuckled. “Right.”

“Doesn’t blank what’s in your cache though.”

He brightened. “Hadn’t thought of that. Go for it.”

“I’m better off now knowing.”

He laughed. “Nothing you wouldn’t find in a young, red-blooded post-grad’s cache.”

“Cat girls?”

He laughed and shook his head. Laura returned to the monitor, Derrick’s face appeared at the edge of her vision, just beyond the monitor screen.

He’d laid back and looked at the ceiling, then glanced in Laura’s direction. She didn’t respond when his glance coincided with a flare of activity from the hind brain. It faded and a glow of static remained. Heart rate bumped then began to settle. Nerves.

The search bar to Derrick’s computer stared at her from the lower left of the screen. She glanced at him. He was staring at the ceiling. She returned to the screen and slid the cursor over the search bar.

She typed “*.jpg” and stopped. The clock on the bottom of the right said 7:32pm. The pheromone cascade would last for about twenty minutes if it worked at all, and it’d already been five. Before she thought, she tapped enter.

The search results came back in a few seconds. Hundreds of .jpg files appeared. She scrolled the list. Scattered in every folder, they had impossible name that were thirty characters long. Icon files for applications. The encoded names stopped.

Lynda.jpg

Blonde_2013.jpg

All in the same folder, six folders deep. Derrick still looked at the ceiling. Laura double clicked.

Attractive, Brunette. A model with brown eyes wearing glasses. She clicked again. Blonde, blue eyes, looking thoughtfully into the distance, the tip of the ear piece of her glasses playing along her mouth. Click. Stock photo of a woman wearing a lab coat, a monitor screen reflecting in her glasses. Click. Swimsuit model. Red head, looking over the top of the glasses with a flirty curl of her lip.

Laura covered her mouth and almost laughed. Eyeglasses?

“How am I doing?” Derrick asked.

Laura flushed and clicked off the image, putting the monitor back on top. His vitals were normal.

“Doing great. How about you?” Laura asked.

“Feeling a little silly. Nothing’s happening.”

Laura looked at her book bag, shook her head, and returned to the monitor.

“There’s some hindbrain,” she said.

“That’s nothing, reading my frustration.”

She looked at her book bag again.

“Maybe get one of your sophomore communications majors in here to help you out?”

There had been an endless string. Pretty, with ambitions of being a model, or a newswoman, or an actress. Some knew that organic chemistry existed.

Derrick frowned and shook his head. He almost looked hurt, and a buzz of activity flared along the amygdala and thalamus.

Laura looked at her book bag but stopped her hand. Derrick had looked away, staring at the ceiling. Controlled, arrogant, someone who would deny that those pictures ever found their way onto his computer.

She stepped next to Derrick and traced a hand over the monitor on his head. He looked up at her.

“What?”

“Shhh,” Laura replied and traced her hand to the bundle of cables trailing from the back. She glanced. He was watching with intent. Laura went back to the monitor and frowned.

“You set this up?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

She went around and lifted the monitor off his head.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“You blew the result Derrick. How long had you sat there before I arrived?”

He tried to turn his head to look at her. She frowned and pulled the data cord out of the back.

“You overheated it genius,” she said.

“I did not.”

“Fine, then you’re a schizophrenic now.”

“Stop it.”

“Listening devices in your brain? Aliens hiding in your salt shaker?”

Laura carried the monitor to a shelf. She slid it next to their backup. She sighed and retrieved it, returning to Derrick’s side. His thumb tapped the armrest and squirmed in the restraint. He glared then looked away.

Laura set the helmet down and picked up the nasal mister.

“Derrick, look at me,” she said.

Anger, mixed with embarrassment filled his eyes, but he did.

“Your note said metabolization takes twenty minutes. We can try again,” she looked at her watch. “In about ten minutes.”

He looked away.

“Or, do you want me to let you out so you can pout?” she asked.

“I can’t believe I missed something so easy.”

“Everyone does,” she said, laying a hand on his forearm. “What’s it going to be?”

His eyes went to where she touched him, lingering an instant too long.

He didn’t speak. Laura went to the desk and sat. The neural monitor was blinking an error message over the model of the brain.

Laura looked at her book bag. She unzipped the top and pulled out the hard case for her glasses. She laid it next to Derrick’s laptop.

She paused the logging software. It spun for a moment. She saved the data and reset it, giving the file name the current time and date.

“Well?” she asked. “We going again or not?”

“I can’t believe I messed up something that simple.”

She rose and lifted the monitor, setting it on Derrick’s head. He was embarrassed and looked like a scolded little boy. She plugged the data cable in, went to the instrument table, and lifted the nasal spray. He followed her movement.

She read the label, squinted, then pretended she couldn’t. She shook her head.

“Your writing.”

She returned to the desk and opened the glasses case, sliding her glasses on.

“One dose per nostril?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

She took a deep breath. A tiny voice told her this was wrong. She shoved it down and started the monitoring software.

Rising, she went to Derrick’s side. He was looking away.

“Derrick,” Laura said.

He turned and found her eyes. They widened, and he swallowed. She leaned forward, placing a hand on his chest. She smiled.

His eyes didn’t move, and she felt the thud of his heart.

“Everything ok?” she asked. “This might still be dangerous.”

He shook his head.

She lifted the mister to his nose. “You’re sure?”

He nodded, his eyes on hers.

She squeezed, and the liquid atomized and entered. She repeated it with the second nostril. His eyes never left hers.

Standing straight, she smiled, leaving a gentle hand on his chest.

“At least we can trust the monitor this time,” she smiled, then winked before turning away and setting the mister on the instrument table.

Sitting down, the heart rate monitor was at ninety-eight, and the neural monitor looked like a cloud, centered on the cerebrum and entire limbic system. Elevated breathing.

She looked around and pulled the glasses down on her nose, looking at him over the top of her glasses.

“Everything ok?”

His breath caught. “Yes.”

She returned to the monitor and adjusted the seat, moving it so that she could see Derrick without turning her head. More importantly, he could see her. Holding her view towards the screen, she felt his gaze on her and flushed.

The monitor pulsed along his cerebrum. Derrick had looked away, and the activity in his cerebrum faded while retaining a core of chaotic synapse firing.

She glanced at him, and he glanced back, tried to look away, then locked on her eyes. The monitor erupted.

Pulling off her glasses, she put the earpiece against her lips, playing it along her skin as she held her gaze on the monitor. Derrick’s eyes never broke away, and while his heart rate rose to 100 bpm with a consistent rise in respiration, the restraints creaked. He’d begun to squirm.

“Something’s happening,” he said, his voice hoarse.

She rose and went to his side. A thin sheen of sweat had broken over his brow. Laura’s eyes trailed down to his waist. His followed hers, and she looked away, embarrassed.

Derrick would quip to break tension, but this version only looked up at her, his arousal turning to a pained grimace.

“Laura,” he half-whispered.

“Do I need to put you out?”

He shook his head, but his hand, the one she’d bound reached for her. She’d closed her hand around his before she realized. His cinched around hers until she winced.

“Sorry,” he said, his grip lessening. “Thank you.”

She smiled and looked into his eyes, and he closed his in response as though her gaze had become painful. But, after he gasped, he opened his eyes, hungry.

Laura tried to pull her hand, trying to release Derrick’s, but his grip tightened.

“Derrick, I need to look at the data,” Laura said.

He nodded. “Sorry, Laura. I know. Distracted.”

She sat, feeling his eyes follow.

The data appeared to have peaked. While still a buzz of firing, the trace showing total energy output had begun a slow descent. The heart rate had settled in the high nineties, and his breathing was rapid but controlled.

“Laura,” Derrick said.

She faced him.

“Would you hold my hand again?” he asked.

“Hold your hand?”

“Please.”

She rose. His touch was gentle this time, and his eyes were gentle. The need remained but had softened to a kind of adoration.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I guess you were right.”

“Different when it’s not numbers and chemistry,” he said, his voice harsh. “You’re beautiful Laura.”

She almost laughed. “What?”

“You’re beautiful. I’ve always thought so. Especially with…”

She adjusted the glasses, and he shuddered.

“Stop,” she said.

“I mean it.”

Guilt reddened her cheeks, and she imagined her own brain glowing on the monitor.

Feeling the embarrassment, she shoved back against it, suddenly hating the idea of her thoughts being reduced to a monitor readout. She turned back to Derrick and pushed the glasses up her nose.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “We tease, and I thought…”

“Thought what?”

“I don’t know. You’d make fun of me. Something.”

“It’s ok to tell me. You’re doing it now,” she glanced towards his waist. “Some of you likes telling me secrets.”

He nodded.

She leaned closer and squeezed his hands. “Something you might feel better about, even when they are difficult.”

Unguarded and adoring, he nodded. “I will.”

“Good,” she said and pulled her hand away. He released it even as his face showed regret.

She sat at the monitor.

The activity was close to baseline. Heart rate was falling to normal.

Derrick looked at the ceiling and sighed, a long fatigued breath.

She waited until his heart rate fell to normal.

“Can you let me out?” Derrick asked.

She removed her glasses, slipping the case into her backpack.

Starting with his wrists, she unbuckled the strap. He started on the other immediately, and she undid the ankle straps. He’d lifted the monitor from his head, revealing damp hair beneath.

Once free, he rose and wiped his face.

“Give me a second,” he said.

He went to the lab exit, the fluorescents from the hallway flashing through the darkened lab. The squeak of the men’s room door echoed.

Laura sat and looked at the empty examination chair. Sweat glistened on the black vinyl, and the blinking power light from the neuro monitor glowed red. She took the tranquilizer and returned it to the pharmaceutical locker.

Derrick pushed through the door and stopped. The door blocked the view where she stood by the locker.

“Laura?” Derrick asked.

“Over here,” she said.

He stepped through the door, letting it close behind him. He smiled, a little embarrassed.

“Feel better?” she asked.

His eyes searched, and he seemed on the cusp of a decision, his face vulnerable. Then, it hardened to the Derrick she knew. “You could have helped.”

“Sometimes mystery is better.”

“Suit yourself.”

He went to the monitor, and she remained at the locker as his fingers clicked on the keyboard. She left him to it, the guilt trying to return.

The typing paused.

“Data looks-“ Derrick said and stopped.

Worry flared. She’d forgotten to stop the log. It hadn’t been saved. She went to his side.

The image viewer was on the screen. The red head looked at them both, flirting over the top of her glasses. Derrick looked back at Laura, his eyes searching and filled with doubt. He turned back to the screen and minimized the viewer, flipping back to the data logger.

He stopped it and saved the files.

Laura couldn’t move.

Derrick didn’t turn.

“Thanks Laura. I really appreciate this,” his voice flat.

She started to reach for his shoulder and pulled back.

“Anytime.”

She went to the exit. Derrick hadn’t moved. She pushed through the door, squinting at the lights in the hall.

As she passed the door to the men’s room, she imagined Derrick in there moments before. She’d put him there. Vulnerable. Needy. Desperate.

She became aware of herself, like the nerves along her skin had ignited. It sharpened her posture and slowed her gait. She had been magical and irresistible, and even if it never happened again, she’d live in Derrick’s head forever.

A voice said it was wrong, and she agreed with it. Her body rewarded her with an ache that bloomed from her belly button as she imagined making him try to hide from her again.