November

NOVEMBER 5, 2022, INTERLUDE: GLITCH

NOVEMBER 5, 2022, INTERLUDE: GLITCH

"What the hell was that?" The man asked.

"How the fuck should I know? That's never happened before," another man said.

"It was like a glitch or something. Like she was trying to break through to her."

"Yeah, it seems like it."

"Should we take her out?"

"That would be even more detrimental for her health. That could make her braindead."

"What the hell? Since when?"

"Since always. We're messing with sick brains, brains with distortions so wide and unique. This woman's mental collapse has nearly destroyed her already. If we didn't do this treatment, she might be dead already. Just in the last five days she's been doing this."

The man scoffed, "That's ridiculous. I had no idea these were going to be these risks. I wouldn't have signed up otherwise."

"You better show some respect. I hired you on this job because this is life-saving technology and you're one of the brightest people I know. If you aren't interested in being bold and changing the world, you can leave whenever you want."

"Did she even get to assess the risks? Who signed off on this?"

"Her wife."

"But wasn't her first day with a guy?"

"That wasn't real. It's all part of the treatment. Everyone has different treatment plans. This one is hers."

"I just feel like I haven't been kept in the loop here."

"Oh, you're fine. She's going to be fine. It was just a small glitch. It probably won't even happen again. She just has to get through the whole thirty days. When she is done, she'll be much better. She'll just need to take some medication to get her back on her feet and remain on previously prescribed psychiatric medications, but she will be back to normal. This woman had a complete mental collapse. It damaged her brain and we might be able to fix it. Something we've hardly ever seen. There's going to be risks, but what is the alternative for someone like her?"

The man knew there wasn't much to do. They had thrown the kitchen sink at her for over a year. "Yeah, I guess so."

"We have already had five successful cases. This could be number six. And this is by far our most intense patient. Without a doubt."

"Yeah, you're right."

"Nothing is going to happen. She's going to be okay. I promise."

"She better be. I don't want blood on my hands. I came into this field to help people get better. I don't want to do the complete opposite."

"I understand. She's falling asleep. Things should be calm for the next few hours while she rests. You can head home if you'd like."

"I think I'll stay here, just to be cautious. Got a whole pot of coffee in the break room to guzzle down."

"I appreciate the company. I can't sleep anyways."

"Me neither." Both of the men sat down in two chairs in the plain white room. It was a sterile and drab environment. They looked at their patient. Behind the massive machine, her face was covered up with the headgear on. Her mind was going to be fixed. She was going to be grounded. She was going to find herself again.

That was all Doctor Colson could think about. His partner for this project, Doctor Erikson, was always the skeptic, but Colson knew this would work. He knew it would.

But there was always the lingering dark thought: What if it didn't? What if I kill someone I was trying to save? What if this is immoral? What if this is wrong? "I'm gonna go smoke a cigarette," Doctor Colson said.

"You really should quit," Doctor Erikson said.

"I know, Marty, I know." Doctor Colson walked out of the glass doors and then walked down the hallway until he reached the next set of double-doors and goes through them. He was outside in the cold winter weather. He lit up his cigarette and took a puff and felt some kind of relief. It was never enough. It was merely a temporary relief from the anxieties and worries and pain.

The snow came down harshly, but the cigarette kept him warm. At least the cigarette kept him warm.