He sat down slowly and turned in his chair. “Dr. Snaresbrook, will you be kind enough to tell us what procedures are still to come?”

“Yes, of course. As you know I have left a number of surgical implants within the patient’s brain. They consist of various kinds of computers connected by microscopic terminals to the brain’s nerve fibers. Controlled measures of chemicals can be released through these. By combining this with a carefully monitored variety of stimuli, I hope he will soon learn how to access more of his later but now inaccessible memories. When these are integrated he should have a functional mind once again.

“There may be gaps — but he will not be aware of them. What I hope he will be aware of and remember is all of the work he did in developing his AI. So that he can rebuild it and make it function.

“I will of course use more than chemicals. I have also implanted computer film chips that will interface directly with nerve endings. On these chips are embryonic brain cells that can be induced to grow in various ways. They can be kept dormant as long as I want, waiting for an opportunity to make the correct connections. When they are activated each one will be tested. The ones that end up wrong will be disconnected so that only the successful will remain active. This can all be done by opening microscopic chemical holes implanted in the chips. Either a connection will be made — or a tiny package of neurotoxins will destroy the cell.”

“I have a question,” one of the men said.

“Of course.”

“Are you telling us that you are installing a machine-mind interface inside that boy’s skull?”

“I am — and I don’t know why you sound so shocked. This kind of thing has been going on for many years now. Why, even in the last century we were hooking up neural connections in the ear to cure deafness. Many times in recent years we have been able to use nerve impulses from the spinal cord to activate prosthetic legs. Connecting to the brain itself was a logical next step.”

“When will we be able to talk to Mr. Delaney?” Schorcht snapped.

“Perhaps never.” Dr. Snaresbrook stood up. “You have my report. Make of it what you will. I am doing my very best, with still-experimental techniques, to rebuild that shattered mind. Trust me. If I succeed you will be the first to know.”

She ignored the voices, the questions, turned and left the room.

Brian came slowly back to consciousness, rising up from a deep and dreamless sleep. Awareness slipped away, came again, sank into darkness again. This happened a number of times over a period of days and each time he remembered nothing of the previous approach to consciousness.

Then, for the first time, he did remain on the borderline of full awareness. Though his eyes were still shut he gradually began to realize that he was awake. And dreadfully tired. Why was that? He did not know, did not really care. Cared about nothing.

“Brian…”

The voice came from a very great distance. At the edge of audibility. At first it was just there, something to be experienced and not considered. But it kept repeating. Brian, then Brian again.

Why? The word rolled around and around in his thoughts until memory returned. That was his name. He was Brian. Someone was speaking his name. His name was Brian and someone was speaking his name aloud.

“Brian — open your eyes, Brian.”

Eyes. His eyes. His eyes were shut. Open your eyes, Brian.

Light. Strong light. Then soothing darkness once again.

“Open your eyes, Brian. Do not keep your eyes closed. Look at me, Brian.”

Glare again, blink, shut, open. Light. Vagueness. Something floating before him.

“That’s very good, Brian. Can you see me? If you can, say yes.”

This was not an easy thing to do. But it was a command. See. Light and something. See me. See the me. See me say yes. What was seeing? Was he seeing? What was he seeing?

It was hard, but each time he thought about it the process became easier. See — with the eyes. See a thing. What thing? The blur. What was a blur? A blur was a thing. What land of a thing? And what was a thing?

Face.

Face! Yes, a face! He was very happy to discover that. He saw that this was a face. A face had two eyes, a nose, a mouth, hair. What about the hair?

The hair was gray.

Very good, Brian. He was doing so well. He felt very happy.

His eyes were open. He saw a face. The face had gray hair. He was very tired. His eyes closed and he slept.

“You saw that, didn’t you!” Dr. Snaresbrook clasped her hands together with excitement. Benicoff nodded, puzzled but agreeing.

“I saw his eyes open, yes. But, well—”

“It was terribly important. Did you notice that he looked at my face after I spoke?”

“Yes — but is that a good response?”

“Not just good, but immensely significant. Think for a moment. You are looking at a young man’s body that for a long time had a disconnected mind — broken into disconnected fragments. But you see what happened now — he heard my voice and turned to look at my face. The important thing is that the brain centers for auditory recognition are in the back half of the brain — but the eye-motion controls are in the front part of the brain. So we must have got the new connections at least partly correct. And there was more. He was trying to obey — to understand my command. This means that a good many mental agencies must have been engaged. And note that he labored very hard, made mental connections, rewarded himself with a feeling of happiness — you saw the smile. This is tremendous.”

“Yes, I did see him smile a little. It’s good that he is not depressed, considering his injuries.”

“No. That’s not the important point at all. If I were concerned about his attitude, I’d prefer for him to be depressed. No, my point is that regardless of whether he’s pleased or annoyed, at least he isn’t apathetic. And if his systems can still assign values to experiences, then he can use those values for self-reinforcement — that is, for learning. And if his systems can learn properly, he’ll be able to help us repair more of the damage.”

“When you put it that way — then I see why it is important. What next?”

“The process continues. I will let him sleep, then try again.”

“But won’t he lose his short-term memories? The memories that you have restored? Won’t they fade away if he sleeps?’

“No — because these are not short-term memories but reconnected K-lines or functions that existed before. K-lines are nerve fibers connected to sets of memories, sets of agents, that reactivate previous partial mental states. Think of them as reconnected circuits. Not reconnected in fragile human synapses, but in tough computer-memory units.”

“If you are right — that means that everything you have done is working out,” Benicoff said, hoping that his lack of enthusiasm did not show in his voice. Was the doctor reading an awful lot into one little flicker of a smile? Perhaps wanting to believe so much that she might be deceiving herself. He had been expecting something more dramatic.

Erin Snaresbrook had not. She had not known what to expect in this totally new procedure, but was immensely satisfied with the results now. Let Brian rest, then she would talk to him again.

A room. He was in a room. The room had a window because he knew what a window looked like. There was someone else in the room. Someone with gray hair and a white thing on her body.

Body? Her? The white thing was a dress and only hers wore dresses.

That was good. He smiled widely. But not completely right. The smile slowly slipped away. It was almost right, he had done well. The smile returned and he slept.