The Descent

said Mary  Kay. 'Yammie did it.'

'Did what?' murmured Vera.

'You mean it was her?' said Rau. 'Dr. Yamamoto killed the guard?'

'Yes. His throat tissue was under her nails.'

'This woman?' Parsifal snorted. 'But those machines must weigh a ton each.' To one side, Thomas's face was shadowed with dark thoughts.

'Why would she do such a thing?' asked Rau.

'We're baffled. It  may  be related  to a grand mal, though her husband said she  has  no history of epilepsy. It  could be a  psychotic  rage  no  one  ever  suspected.  The  one  video monitor  she  didn't  manage  to  demolish  shows  her  falling  into  unconsciousness,  men getting  up  and  destroying  the  machines  used  for  cutting  tissue.  The  target  of  her anger  was  very  specific,  these  machines,  as  if  she  was  avenging  herself  for  a  great wrong.'

'And killing the guard?'

'We don't know.  The  killing  took  place  off  camera.  According  to  the  security  guard's radio  report,  he  found  her  in  a  fetal  position.  She  was  clutching  that.'  Mary  Kay pointed to a desktop.

'Good lord,' said Vera.

Parsifal walked over  to the desk. Here was the source  of  the  stench.  What  remained of a hadal head had been positioned between  a  7-Eleven  Big  Gulp  cup  and  the  Denver Yellow  Pages.  The  blue  gel  that  had  once  encased  it  was  mostly  thawed.  The  liquid seeped down into the desk's drawers.

The  lower  half  of  the  face  and  skull  had  been  lopped  away  by  the  machine's  blades so cleanly that the creature  seemed  to be materializing from the flat desktop. Its  black hair  was  smeared  flat  upon  the  misshapen  skull.  A  dozen  small  burr  holes  sprouted electrode  wires.  After  so  many  months  preserved  from  air,  it  was  now  in  a  state  of rapid decomposition.

More  disconcerting  than  the  decay  and  missing  jaws  were  the  eyes.  The  lids  were wide  open.  The  eyes  bulged,  pupils  fixed  in  a  seemingly  furious  stare.   'He  looks pissed,' said Parsifal.

'She,'   commented    the    physician.    'The    protruding    eyes    are    a   symptom    of hyperthyroidism.  Not  enough  iodine  in  the  diet.  She  probably  came  from  a  region

deficient in basic minerals like salt. A lot of hadals look like that.'

'What would prompt anyone to embrace  such a thing?' asked Vera.

'That's  what  we  asked  ourselves.  Had  Yammie  started  to  identify  subconsciously with  her   specimen?   Did  something  trigger   a  personality   reaction?   Identification, sublimation,  conversion.   We  went   through   all  the   possibilities.  But  Yammie   was always  so  even.  And  never  happier  than  now.  Pregnant,  fulfilled,  loved.'  Mary  Kay tucked   the   blanket   around   Yamamoto's   neck,   brushed   the   hair   back   from   her forehead. A long bruise was surfacing above  her  eyes.  In  her  frenzy,  the  woman  must have  flung herself against the machines and walls.

'Then  the  seizures  returned.  We  hooked  her  up  to  an  EEG.  You've  never  seen anything like it. A neurological storm, more like a tempest.  We induced a coma.'

'Good,' said Vera.

'Except  it  didn't  work.  We  keep  getting  activity.  Something  seems  to  be  eating  its way  through  the  brain,  short-circuiting  tissue  as  it  goes.  It's  like  watching  a  lightning bolt in slow motion. The  big  difference  here  is  that  the  electrical  activity  isn't  general. You'd think an electrical overload would  be  brain-wide.  But  this  is  all  being  generated from the hippocampus, almost selectively.'

'The hippocampus, what is that, please?' Rau asked.

'The memory  center,' Mary  Kay  answered.

'Memory,'  Rau  repeated  softly.  'And  had  this  hippocampus  been  dissected  by  your machine yet?'

They  all looked at Rau. 'No,' said  Mary  Kay.  'In  fact,  the  blade  was  just  approaching it. Why?'

'Just  a  question.'  Rau  peered  around  the  room.  'Also,  were  you  keeping  laboratory animals in this room?'

'Absolutely not.'

'I thought not.'

'What do animals have  to do with it?' Parsifal said.

But Rau had more  questions.  'In  clinical  terms,  Dr  Koenig,  at  its  most  basic,  what  is memory?'

'Memory?'   said  Mary   Kay.   'In  a  nutshell,  memory   is  electric   charges   exciting biochemicals along synaptic networks.'

'Electric wires,' Rau summarized. 'That's what our past reduces to?'

'It's much more complicated than that.'

'But essentially true?'

'Yes.'

'Thank  you,'  Rau  said.  They  waited  for  his  conclusion,  but  after  a  few  moments  it became clear he was deep in contemplation.

'What's  strange,'  said  Mary  Kay,  'is  that  Yammie's  brain  scans  are  showing  nearly two hundred percent  of the normal electrical stimulus in a human brain.'

'No wonder she's short-circuiting,' Vera  said.

'There's  something else,'  said  Mary  Kay.  'At  first  it  looked  like  a  big  jumble  of  brain activity.  But  we're  starting  to  sort  it  all  out.  And  it  looks  like  we're  tracking  two distinct cognitive patterns.'

'What?' said Vera.  'That's impossible.'

'I don't follow you,' said Parsifal.

Mary  Kay's voice grew  small. 'Yammie's not alone in there,' she said.

'One more time, please,' Parsifal demanded.

'You have  to understand,' Mary  Kay  said, 'none of this is for public disclosure.'

'You have  our word,' said Thomas.

She  stroked  Yamamoto's  arm.  'We  couldn't  make  sense  out  of  the  two  cognitive patterns.  But  then,  a  few  hours  ago,  something  happened.  The  seizures  stopped. Completely.  And  Yammie  began  to  speak.  She  was   unconscious,  but   she   started

talking.'

'Excellent,' said Parsifal.

'It wasn't in English, though. It  wasn't anything we'd ever  heard.'

'What?'

'We  happened  to  have  an  intern  in  the  room.  He'd  served  as  a  Navy  medic  in sub-Mexico.  Apparently  the  military  plants  microphones  in  remote  recesses.  He'd heard some of the recordings and thought he recognized the sound.'

'Not hadal,' said Parsifal. Confusion aggravated  him.

'Yes.'

'Rubbish.' Parsifal's face was turning red.

'We  obtained  a  tape  of  hadal  voices  from  the  DoD's  library,  top  secret.  Then  we compared  it  with  Yammie's  speech.  It  wasn't   identical,  but   it  was   close  enough. Apparently,  human  vocal  cords  need  practice  to  handle  the  consonants  and  trills  and clicks. But Yammie was speaking their language.'

'Where could she have  learned to speak it?'

'That's  exactly  the  point,'  said  Mary  Kay.  'As  far  as  humans  go,  there  aren't  more than  a  handful  of  recaptures  that  speak  it  in  the  world.  But  Yammie  was.  It's  all  on tape.'

'She must have  heard some recaptures  then,' Parsifal said.

'It's more than simple mimicry, though. See that wall over  there?'

'Is that mud?' asked Vera.

'Feces. Her own. Yammie used it to fingerpaint those symbols.' They  all recognized the symbols as hadal.

'We can't figure out what they  represent,'  said  Mary  Kay.  'I'm  told  that  someone  on a science expedition below the Pacific was starting to crack the  code.  An  archaeologist. Van  Scott  or  something.  The  expedition's  supposed  to  be  a  big  secret.  But  one  of  the mining colonies leaked bits of the story.  Only now the expedition's disappeared.'