The question was whether or not the memory still existed. If it did, and the problem was one of retrieval, then the MBI procedure might bring it to the surface in the same way that it liberated long-suppressed memories of childhood abuse and other traumas. But if the memory was simply gone, then nothing could reclaim it.
She was reasonably optimistic about retrieval. Most victims of concussion eventually recovered some memories of the event. How these memories were stored and how they were regained were two of the countless mysteries of the brain. Some experts postulated a dual storage mechanisma kind of backup memory system that kept working even when the hippocampus failed. Other experts believed that hippocampal processing was only delayed by trauma, not prevented, and that even a short-term memory remained intact somewhere in the temporal lobe, ready to be consolidated into long-term storage when normal memory function resumed.
Nobody knew. When it came to the brain, what was known was vastly outweighed by what was unknown.
She decided to boost the output of the coils affecting both temporal lobesthe left, which processed memories of names and words, and the right, which handled memories of faces and other visual information. A strong low-frequency magnetic field over those areas would inhibit their activity and perhaps allow the relevant neural mechanisms to settle down and begin functioning normally after the agitation of the trauma.
The TV report was wrapping up as a reporter, live at the Hollywood cul-de-sac, repeated word of the failed pursuit. In midsentence he went silent. Wolper had turned off the set. He emerged from the kitchenette, carrying a mug of coffee.
"Hammond must be just loving this," he said.
His jocular tone infuriated her. "I don't give a damn about your office politics." She took a breath. That hadn't been smart or fair. "Sorry. I'm just amp; all wound up."
He came closer. "Do you really think you should be doing this right now?"
"I have to do this. Right now."
"Will it work?"
She sighed. This was the fourth or fifth time he'd asked. "I don't know. Let me work out the technical stuff, okay?"
Wolper drifted away. Robin concentrated on reprogramming the appliance's parameters. When she was finished, she checked the diagnostic results. All fifty-two coils were functioning normally. She exhaled a breath of relief.
"All right, I think we're ready to start."
Wolper joined her again at the computer console.
"Once I'm wearing the appliance," she said, "all you have to do is press the enter key. That will activate the appliance. I'll go into a trance. It should take five minutes or so. You'll see me getting relaxed."
She thought about telling him that she should not be allowed to stay under for more than thirty minutes, because the procedure's safety over longer time intervals had never been verified. She decided against it, not wishing to be pulled out just as she was on the verge of a breakthrough. She would remain in an altered state of consciousness for as long as it took.
"The MBI will be noisy. It makes a loud clicking sound. That's normal. Don't let it worry you."
"Why should I be worried? You're the one who'll be wearing this gizmo."
Robin didn't care for the term gizmo, but she let it ride.
"So what am I supposed to do," he asked, "besides watch you get your brain scrambled?"
"Your job is to ask me questions, the way you did in the interview room. Pretend you're taking a statement. Lead me through the events preceding the attack. My answers may be slow. It'll be like I'm on drugs or something."
"I've done a few interviews with drugged-up witnesses."
"There should be a point when I'm in position to see the assailant. That's the memory I need to recover."
"Even if you do remember, evidence like this will never be allowed in court."
"I'm not thinking about court. I just want to know where our focus should be."
Wolper studied her. "You already think you know where to focus. You're sold on Brand."
"What makes you say that?"
"You've been working with Gray for months. You want to believe he's clean. But he's not. A leopard can't change his spots."
She had no time or energy to waste on arguing. "There's one other thing you need to know," she said. "The MBI process inhibits motor functioning. In other words, I'll be immobilized. It's natural. It doesn't mean there's a problem."
"Suppose there is a problem. Suppose you start spouting gibberishmore so than usual, that is. Or you start twitching and jerking"
"The term is seizing. It's unlikely. If it happens, end the session."
"How?"
"Press the enter key again. Okay?"
"I think I can handle that."
"So are you set?"
"One more question," Wolper said. "Have you ever done this before?"
"I do it all the time. It's my job."
"I mean on yourself."
She'd been hoping he wouldn't ask, but since he had, she gave a truthful answer. "Only twice. For experimental purposes. And I didn't go very deep."
"Nervous?"
This time she lied. "No."
She settled back in the chair, her hands on the armrests. Eyes closed, she practiced taking slow abdominal breaths.
"I'm ready," she said.
"Then here goes."
The appliance came on. The sudden clicking of the coils was louder than she'd expected. She worried that she might not be able to shift into alpha rhythm while distracted by the noise.
But even as that thought occurred to her, she felt the peculiar distancing of her mind from her body, the strange numbness that told her she was being carried gently away.
She needed a fantasy environment in which to feel safe, and she chose a park in Ojai, an artists' community near Santa Barbara where she and Dan had often gone with Meg.
No, she couldn't think of Megnot if she wanted to relax. Had to forget Dan, also. Too much baggage there.
She was in the park alone, untroubled, and it was a clear spring day. The breeze, laced with moisture from the Pacific a few miles distant, played over her skin and hair. The clicking of the coils receded. It became the chirping of crickets, the rustling of leaves.
In the park she settled down on the carpet of grass, sinking into the green, dewy shoots, letting sun and air envelop her. She was calm.
Wolper's voice reached her over the background sounds.
"It's been five minutes, Doctor. Are you relaxed?"
"Relaxed. Call me Robin."
"Okay, Robin. We need to talk about what happened here at your office a few hours ago. You were having a session with Justin Gray. Remember?"
"Yes."
"I want you to tell me how the session ended."
"It was amp; everything went dark."
"Before it went dark. Go back a few minutes earlier. Gray had the, uh, the helmet thing on. And I guess you were talking to him. Bringing him out of it?"
"Yes."
"So he comes out of the trance amp;"
"Yes."
"What are you doing right at that moment?"
She could see the scene playing before her closed eyelids. "Saving the session to a CD."
"And Gray?"
She heard Gray's voice in the background. "He's talking. Talking about his father. The way his father punished him." She heard the rustling of his jumpsuit. "And he's shifting in the chair. Restless amp;"
"What's happening now?"
"I'm labeling the CD. Writing with my pen." Bouncing circles of light over the letters she formed. "My flashlight pen."
"And then?"
Blackness. "Everything's dark."
"No, something happens before it all goes dark. Go back."