I was always fascinated how the human mind works. To that end, I combined cyber punk and my (extremely limited knowledge) of the human mind to create my short story, Synapse. Please enjoy this teaser . . . .
“Synapse: The point of junction between two neurons in a neural pathway. The impulse traveling in the first neuron initiates an impulse in the second neuron. They are susceptible to fatigue, offer a resistance to the passage of impulses, and are markedly susceptible to the effects of oxygen deficiency, anesthetics, and other agents, including therapeutic drugs, toxic chemicals, and Synaptic Reflex Control (SRC) under the Synaptic Reflex Test (SRT).”
* * *
The newly hired technician looked through the window at the woman in the next room and all the leads attached to her arms, legs, chest and head. Once the medicine he gave her started to take hold, she wouldn’t mind the Test so much.
I’ll think about the leads instead of the woman or the Dream Machine. The Dream Machine. No, I won’t think about the Dream Machine in the center of the room and the Test. Damn.
His eyes followed the leads’ connections to Dream Machine’s monitors. Was the woman the perfect Candidate? He didn’t want to think about the woman—
When was the doctor going to come in? The Test will start soon and everything will be over. Quickly. I hope.
He stared at the plain, white wall behind the machine. He looked at the two blank monitors: the one in front of him and the then other for the attending doctor. The technician and the doctor would see and hear everything the woman in the Dream Machine would experience in a voyeuristic moment later on the upper half of their monitors in viewing format and in program format on the lower half of their monitors.
Is what I’m doing right? Should I find another job somewhere else? I still have a lot of student loans to pay and, after all, this place is still a—
The doctor entered the room, mumbled a quick “hello,” and sat down in front of the other monitor while still reading her tablet. “I’m ready.” and added while still not looking at the technician, “Please start.”
He began keying in the initial commands on his keyboard.
Click. Click-click-click. Clink, click. Click. Click.
The Candidate in the other room could hear someone typing on a keyboard. It must be the leads near her ears. Who cares? Maybe she did. But, why couldn’t she see anything? Her head jerked slightly from quick stinging electrical pulses to her temples then
Everything was black.
Click-click. Click. Click. Click, click-click.
The doctor saw black on the upper half of her monitor. She looked at the lower half of the screen to see what data the technician was inputting and the corresponding running program.
Click-click, click. Click-click. Click. Click, click-click.
The technician glanced at the upper half of his monitor and saw that it was still black. He looked back down at the lower half. Data input and the Test’s program were scrolling. Now the lower half of his monitor read
LEVEL ONE NOW BEGINNING
The Candidate saw black. The doctor and technician still saw the upper half of their monitors glare black.
Then the Candidate saw gray. The doctor and technician saw their monitors flick to a gray patch a moment later.
The technician continued to type as the program progressed.
The monitors flicked gray.
Then gray again.
Randa walked up to the doors of The Yellow Bird Night Club.