When the elevator doors opened at ground level, there was Roger, who had been waiting to descend.
“Roger, you’re supposed to be at home resting,” said George.
“I’m all right,” said Roger. “Where are you going?”
He was wearing his perennial backpack. George noticed how pale and weak he looked. George was silent for a moment and looked inquiringly at Alice.
She nodded.
“Walk with us to the parking lot, and I’ll explain,” said George. He told Roger about the Egg and Tunnel Maker’s instructions.
“I’m going with you,” Roger said abruptly as they reached Alice’s car.
“But you can’t, Roger,” Alice objected. “You’re ill. You should be home in bed.”
“I owe you an explanation about that,” said Roger. “Let’s drive.”
“Where?” asked Alice.
“Hm,” said George, taking a Texas map from the glove compartment and studying it. “I think we should go to Interstate 45 and head south to the Gulf Coast area beyond Houston. The Gulf of Mexico is the nearest piece of ocean. Do either of you need to pack clothes or anything?”
Roger shook his head. “I can make do with what’s in here,” he said, patting his backpack.
“Reporters’ habits die hard,” said Alice. “I always keep a jump bag packed and ready in the trunk of my car. What about you?”
“I’ll buy some things when we get there,” said George. “Let’s go.”
Alice headed south on 1-45. As she drove, Roger told them the tale of synaptine and his experiments with it. “Synaptine is wonderful and deadly,” he concluded. “Under its influence, I’ve been able to understand its actions far better than Susan had. It does create a kind of back-propagation loop in the human nervous system. And it also does other things. Have you ever wondered why large brains and intelligence are not more common in the animal kingdom?” He looked across at George and Alice.
“I suppose because it took time to evolve them,” said George.
“And then there’s the business of the head diameter and the birth canal,” Alice added.
“Which is nonsense,” said Roger. “Nature is extremely good at duplicating or enlarging an organ if it proves useful for survival. One can find thousands of examples of that in evolutionary biology. But only humans, dolphins, and whales have large brains, and in the latter two the brain structure seems more devoted to signal processing than intelligence. But, George, what happens when you make a neural network too big or give it too many layers?”
“Oh!” said George. “It goes unstable.” “Exactly,” said Roger. “It has become clear to me that the problem with making big brains is not in producing them but in stabilizing them. It took nature a long time to evolve the stabilization mechanisms of the human brain. And it’s still not highly stable, as any psychiatrist can testify. We teeter at a delicate balance point on the edge of stability, and some of us fall over the edge into obsession, paranoia, manic-depressive cycles, or epileptic fits.”
“And synaptine affects that stability?” asked George.
“Yes,” said Roger. “I’ve been having epileptic fits of increasing severity. During the last one, my heart stopped, and an emergency team had to use an electric jolt to restart it. Susan’s rhesus monkey, Elvis, died last week of a similar seizure.”
“What about antiepilepsy drugs?” asked Alice.
“My condition isn’t really epilepsy. That’s only a convenient label. The standard antiepileptic drugs like ritalin have no effect on the problem and produce some really unpleasant side effects. I’ve tried them. I’ve been having about one seizure per week. The last one was a couple of days ago. I think the next episode, or perhaps the one after that, will probably kill me,” Roger said calmly.
“But why don’t you just stop taking synaptine?” asked Alice.
“A large concentration of synaptine was the trigger, not the ongoing cause,” said Roger. “Once the seizure syndrome is established, withdrawal of the drug has no effect. Besides, I’ve needed the intellectual boost I get from synaptine to understand the Snark problem. And I have a bit of it left. Perhaps I’ll need it again.”
George patted his pocket, where the Egg lay nested. “Perhaps you will,” he said grimly.
41
ROGER HUNCHED HIS SHOULDERS AND STRETCHED. Alice had driven south from Waxahachie on Interstate 45. After several hours of rural Texas cropland and an hour of threading past the strip-mall suburban sprawl of Houston, they had crossed the long causeway beyond La Marque and entered Galveston onto Avenue J, otherwise known as Broadway, the backbone arterial of the island city. Broadway was lined with tall palm trees and knife-leafed oleanders adorned with pink and white blossoms. Even with the car windows closed and the air conditioner running, Roger could detect their oversweet scent.
Roger consulted the screen of his lapstation, studying the detailed street map provided by its holo-ROM-based world atlas and travel guide. “Rosenberg Avenue is coming up,” he said to Alice. “I think you should turn right there, drive to the beachfront, and make another right along West Beach.” They were passing the long blue awning of the EZ Pawn pawnshop. At the intersection Alice circled a monumental female figure brandishing an ivy-covered sword commemorating the Heroes of the Texas Revolution. The pawnshop awning bore the inscription loans — guns — tools — stereos, while the monument was carved with the words patriotism — courage — honor — devotion. There’s a moral there somewhere, Roger thought.
Alice followed the trolley tracks south to the Galveston seawall and the Gulf of Mexico. Roger opened his backseat window, inhaling the salt smell of the Gulf and getting a better view of the wheeling gulls above the gray-green water. He read aloud from the travel atlas entry on Galveston. “ ‘On September 6, 1900, a major Gulf hurricane hit Galveston, flooding the island, destroying much of the city, and killing five thousand people. Up to this time, Galveston had been the largest city in Texas, but the flood ended the city’s role as a major Gulf seaport. A second flood on August 17, 1915, killed two hundred and seventy-five people. The citizens of Galveston responded to these disasters by constructing a long seawall along the side of the long island fronting on the Gulf, with elaborate jetties and breakwaters to tame hurricane-driven waves. Galveston has survived subsequent major hurricanes without significant damage.’”
Roger clicked on the atlas hyperlink SUBSEQUENT MAJOR HURRICANES and continued reading. “ ‘The major Gulf hurricanes that have impacted Galveston, Texas, since World War II include Hurricane Audrey in 1957, Carla in 1961, Beulah in 1967, Camille in 1969, Celia in 1970, Allen in 1980, Alicia in 1983, and Barry in 2001.’”
“Goodness,” said Alice. “I’ve been through more than my share of hurricanes in Florida, and I don’t need another one. Remind me to watch the weather reports while we’re here. With satellite pictures we’d have plenty of time to evacuate.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said George. “It might be fun to watch a good hurricane from a vantage point on the beach and experience the forces of nature at firsthand.” He grinned at her.
She turned west on Seawall Boulevard at the beachfront. The seawall overlook provided a nice view of the now-tranquil waters of the Gulf. In the distance several ships could be seen heading for the eastern tip of the island and the Port of Galveston inlet beyond. Alice drove west, with the ocean on the left and beachfront shops, restaurants, and luxury hotels on the right. Finally the tourist-oriented businesses thinned and the highway, now called Termini Road, veered away from the ocean as the seawall ended. On the left was a strip of land overgrown with tall weeds that ended at the beach.