“It’s called tetrodotoxin.”
That told him nothing.
“It’s a natural ingredient and perfectly safe,” Sarah said. She patted his arm. “I promise you’ll be just fine.”
“I should add that if you agree to volunteer, you’ll be paid an additional two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar signing fee—a total of five hundred dollars.”
Zack could feel lines of expectation converge on him. He glanced at the nondisclosure and waiver forms. Then his eyes returned to the computer image of the last NDE subject, frozen at the point where he said he felt perfectly fine. “You’re asking me to be sent to death’s door, so I’d like to think this over, if you don’t mind.”
Luria’s expression sagged. “Of course, but it’s perfectly safe.”
He made a move to the door. “I’m sure, but I can’t just sign my life away.”
“But you’re not,” she said, struggling not to be too insistent.
“I’ll get back to you.”
“Fine. We hope that you’ll let us know soon.” Luria went to the desk and called Bruce. When she finished, she pulled Zack aside, and in a low voice she said, “While you’re deliberating, you should know that this project is on the cusp of a great scientific discovery. Perhaps the greatest. And you can be part of it.”
34
Two days later, they began to put the pressure on Zack. Dr. Luria sent a letter thanking him for his initial participation in the “tests” and saying that she understood his concern. Sarah also sent him a note saying that she hoped they could continue working together. To ease his mind, she had sent him a link to a secure site on which there were more video interviews of subjects who had emerged from suspensions. Their identities were blocked, their faces smudged, but they were clearly in the Proteus lab being interviewed by Dr. Luria and Sarah Wyman.
They all identified themselves as college students or young professionals in their twenties or thirties. Notwithstanding the selection of videos, the half dozen or so test subjects unanimously said that they experienced no side effects other than feeling a little sluggish. After the sedative had worn off, they claimed to have felt perfectly normal. Two expressed regret about coming back to the real world. One had likened the return to Dorothy leaving the land of Oz for black-and-white Kansas.
What interested Zack particularly were their descriptions of the actual suspensions. While one recalled nothing from his suspensions, most of the others claimed that in their NDEs they had remarkable feelings of peace, unity, and unconditional love:
I saw a light—not blinding but a wonderfully nurturing, peaceful light.
I can’t recall exactly the environment, but I remember it was very peaceful and very beautiful. I was aware of colors—more pure than any colors I had seen in life. I also felt light emanating from me, a warm bright light that accompanied a profound feeling of peace and safety and love.
I had a sense of great unity with all things. Also, I remember a very powerful and profound presence.
The next day, Luria did a follow-up call to ask if he had watched the videos.
“Yes, they were fascinating,” he said.
“And all very positive reports, as you noticed.”
“Yes.”
“And all very safe, obviously.”
“So it seems.” He knew he was playing coy.
“So,” she said, “I hope you’re agreeable to undergoing a suspension with us.”
“I’m still thinking about it,” Zack said.
“Well, you should know that I met with the others and we unanimously agreed to raise the suspension fee to seven hundred and fifty dollars.”
A $250 raise. “That’s great,” he said. “But what’s the reason?”
“Well, frankly, because in neurological terms you’re quite special. As I said the other day, the activity structure of your brain appears especially sensitive.”
He wondered if he should feel flattered or apprehensive. “Just one question,” he said. “How come no one in any of the videos claimed to have met dead relatives?”
“Well, maybe you’ll be the first.”
35
Zack tried to suppress his anxiety as Bruce drove him to the lab the next Tuesday night. He tried to lose himself in the Vivaldi CD, thinking about those people who had been flatlined and crowed about spiritual transports of loving light and tranquillity.
When he arrived, the core team met him, and Sarah gave him a warm hug, wishing him a belated happy birthday. Yesterday he had turned twenty-five. That made him feel better. He signed the various waivers and nondisclosure forms. They then led him into the MRI room, where he changed into pajama bottoms and lay on the gurney. They connected him up to an IV and several electronic monitoring devices. Along one wall was a viewing window, behind which were the computer workstations where scans of his brain would be projected.
Sarah positioned a videocamera on a tripod. “Once again, we’re going to record the whole procedure and catch any movements.”
“Like breaking into the ‘Hallelujah’ chorus.”
She laughed. “That would be something.” She then put a mask across his brow, ready to be lowered. He felt a nervous flare in his chest.
When they finished, Dr. Luria came over. She was beaming with expectation. “Ready?”
“I think so.”
“How do you feel?” Sarah asked.
He looked up at the faces, the lights, IV stand, tubes connected to him, thinking that he was a syringe away from near death. “Nervous.”
She patted his arm. “Of course, but you’ll be perfectly safe. You’re just going to sleep.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“I’ll be monitoring every second you’re under. Then in an hour we’ll bring you back.”
“You’ve done this before?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And everyone came back?”
“Absolutely.”
“And whole?”
“And whole and healthy.” She patted his arm again. “All set?”
“Want to come with me? I may be going to paradise.”
She laughed. “Love to, but I don’t have your brain.”
She lowered the mask and fitted the earplugs and muffler, cutting off the outside world. The gurney moved headfirst into the tube and he felt a twinge of claustrophobia. “How long will it take to fall asleep?” If anyone responded, he never heard. His brain went instantly black.
* * *
“Hey, Zack, you’re waking up.”
A female voice.
“Zack, can you hear me?”
He grunted. Shards of sleep were falling away as awareness gradually returned.
“He’s coming to.”
A male voice.
“Come on, Zack, wake up.”
He forced open one eye.
“That’s it, Zack, open your eyes.”
Then the other.
“Welcome back. How do you feel?” asked a pretty woman with short hair.
He licked his lips.
“If your mouth and tongue feel tingly, that’s normal. Can you tell me your name?”
He looked at her dumbly without response.
“Okay, you’re still a little foggy.”
“Can you tell us your name?” an older woman asked.
He shook his head.
“No? Sure you can. It’s Zack. What’s your last name?”
He hesitated a moment. Then he muttered, “Kashian.”
“What was that?”
“Kashian.”
“Right. Good. And do you know where you are?”
“Magog Woods?”
“Where?”