Brain Child Page 0,64

you have remembered seems to be faulty.”

“But the dean’s office used to be where the nurse’s office is now,” Alex protested. “Mom just told us so.”

“True. But apparently it was moved long before you ever went to La Paloma High. So why—and how—did you remember where it used to be, instead of where it is? Even more important, why did you remember Mission Dolores, when you apparently have never been there?”

“But I could have been there,” Alex suggested. “Maybe yesterday wasn’t the first day I sneaked off to San Francisco.”

“Fine,” Torres agreed. “Let’s assume that’s the case. Now tell me why you remembered a grave that’s over a hundred years old, and thought it was your uncle’s grave? You have no uncles, let alone one who’s been dead since 1850.”

“Well, why did I?”

Torres’s brows arched. “According to those exams you took last week, you’re smart enough to know better than to ask that question before these tests.”

“Maybe I’m not smart,” Alex suggested. “Maybe I’m just good at remembering things.”

“Which would make you some kind of idiot savant,” Torres replied. “And the fact that you just suggested it is pretty good proof that you’re more than that.” He slid a pair of diskettes into the twin drives of the master monitor, then began preparing a hypodermic. “Peter tells me you woke up early a couple of times,” he said, his voice studiedly casual. “How come you never mentioned it?”

“It didn’t seem important.”

“Can you tell me what it was like?”

Carefully Alex explained the sensations he’d had when coming up from the anesthesia that always accompanied the tests. “But it wasn’t unpleasant,” he finished. “In fact, it was interesting. None of it made any sense, but I always had the feeling that if I could only slow it down, it would make sense.” He hesitated, then spoke again. “Why do I have to be asleep when you test my brain?”

“Peter already explained that,” Torres replied. He swabbed Alex’s arm with alcohol, then plunged the needle into his arm.

Alex winced slightly, then relaxed. “But if it got bad—if I started hurting or something—you could stop the tests, couldn’t you?”

“I could, but I won’t,” Torres told him. “Besides, if you were awake, the very fact that you’d be thinking during the examination would have an effect on the results. In order for the tests to be valid, your brain has to be at rest when they’re administered.”

Thirty seconds later, Alex’s eyes closed and his breathing became deep and slow. Checking all the monitors one more time, Torres left the room.

In his office, Torres leaned back in his desk chair and began methodically packing his pipe with tobacco. As he carried out the ritual of lighting the pipe, his eyes kept flicking toward the monitor that showed what was happening in the examining room. All, as he had expected, was as it should be, and he would have a full hour alone with Ellen Lonsdale. “I presume you’re going to tell me why your husband isn’t here this morning?”

Ellen shifted in her chair and nervously crossed her legs, unconsciously tugging at her skirt as she did so. “He’s … well, I’m afraid we’re having a little trouble.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Torres commented, concentrating on his pipe rather than Ellen. “I don’t mean this as anything against your husband, but a lot of doctors have a great deal of difficulty in dealing with me. In fact,” he added, his hypnotic eyes fixing directly on her, “a lot of people have always had difficulty dealing with me.” The barest hint of a smile crossed Torres’s face. “I’m talking about the fact that I was always considered something of an oddball.”

Ellen forced a smile, though she knew his words carried a certain truth. “Whatever you might have been in high school is all over now,” she offered. “You were just so bright we were all terrified of you!”

“And, apparently, people still are,” Torres replied dryly. “At least your husband seems to be.”

“I’m not sure terrified is the right word—” Ellen began.

“Then what would you suggest?” Torres countered. “Frightened? Insecure? Jealous?” He brushed the words aside with an impatient gesture, and his voice grew hard. “Whatever it is—and I assure you it’s of no consequence to me—it has to stop. For Alex’s sake.”

So this was what it was all about. Ellen sighed in relief. “I know. In fact, that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about today. Raymond, I’m starting to worry about Marsh. This thing with Alex’s