Myths and Memories: Dr. Robert Lister
I apologize for the long gap in postings. I have been getting ready for my seminar at WriterCon and doing a bit of editing for writer friends, in addition to working on Myths and Memories. But I haven’t forgotten about you. I wanted to share another excerpt from my current work in progress, Myths and Memories. In the section below, a retired scientist named Rob Lister comes to his senses to find he hasn’t any:
Date: Unknown; Time: Unknown
Silence. Absolute. Unrelenting. Silence.
Usually, when confronted by extreme quiet, I first notice an insistent ringing in my ears. Next, I hear the gentle rush of my breathing. Finally, I feel my heart beating and blood pulsing through my body. Not this time.
Sound doesn’t exist for me. The world isn’t quiet. It’s silent. This silence is wrong.Everything has changed…
The total darkness disturbs me less, as logic explains it. My eyes are probably closed. The pain in my head happened about sunset and I’ve probably been unconscious for some time.
The pain? That’s right. My last memory was pain. A sharp pain at the base of my skull.
Closed eyes and night can combine to create inky darkness. But why can’t I open my eyes? Why can’t I feel them rolling around behind my eyelids? Why can’t I feel—anything?
No pain, thank God. But I can’t tell if I’m sitting up, standing, or lying down. I’m not dizzy. My mind seems clear. Yet something is definitely wrong.
“How do you know your mind is clear?”
I can test my cognitive skills. Ten times seventeen equals one hundred seventy. The square root of forty-nine is seven. Math’s okay. How about general knowledge? Shakespeare wrote Hamlet and Coriolanus. I add the latter to make sure I’m making this a challenge. DNA self-replicates through the auspices of DNA-polymerase and is transcribed into RNA, which is translated on ribosomes into protein. The nascent protein molecule then folds and is either innately active or activated by phosphorylation or some other modification to carry out its functions. My biochemistry and molecular biology expertise remains intact. Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres. Three branches constitute the United States government – executive, legislative, and judicial. Today is July seventh. My name is Robert Thomas Lister, and I’m sixty-two years, eight months, and thirteen days old.
The old synapses seem to be firing. But I can’t feel anything or move anything. Fingers—gone. Hands—gone. Arms—gone. Toes—gone. Feet—gone. Legs—gone. Chest—gone. Abdomen—gone. Shoulders—gone. Neck—gone. Face—gone. That’s the most unsettling. I can’t feel my face. I can’t even frown.
What spinal injury makes your face numb? Those senses come from cranial nerves that don’t travel down the spine. “On Old Olympus’ Towering Tops, a Finn and German Viewed Some Hops.”—Olfactory, Optic, Oculomotor, Trigeminal, Trochlear, Abducens, Facial, Auditory Vestibular, Glossopharyngeal, Vagus, Spinal Accessory, Hypoglossal. I can’t believe I still remember this from physiology lectures. Those were over forty years ago.
“Paralysis?” I ask the question in my mind, thinking it’s rhetorical.
“No, pan aesthesia.”
The response seems to materialize in my mind.
“Okay, let’s go through the possibilities here: Possibility One – I’m completely paralyzed, on a respirator in a hospital somewhere. Then why can’t I hear or see or feel my face or my eyes? Am I in a coma? If so, how can my thoughts be so lucid? Possibility Two – I’m unconscious and dreaming the above. But I don’t feel unconscious. Possibility Three – I don’t want to acknowledge this one, but as a scientist I must. I’m dead. If so, the afterlife’s pretty damn disappointing.”
“Not really.”
There’s another one of those unusual thoughts in my mind.
“This isn’t my thought. It doesn’t sound like me. I don’t even agree with it.”
“Good. You’re starting to get it, Robert. May I call you Robert?”
Somehow, I’m now certain the other voice in my head is male and equally certain it isn’t mine.
“Sure. Does this mean I have pan aesthesia and schizophrenia?”
“What do you think?”
“A head trauma shouldn’t cause that.”
“What are your hypotheses then?”
“Hypothesis One – I’m carrying out a thought conversation with myself. Hypothesis Two – I’m unconscious and dreaming the above. Hypothesis Three – I don’t like this—same as Possibility Three?”
“I was called Calla when I lived on Earth.”
About the pictures:
These pictures were taken in July 0f 2015 in the beautiful ‘Ian Valley on Maui. In the top picture we see a view of the ‘Ian needle from the bridge over the ‘Iao Stream. In the bottom picture, we look the other direction toward the stage where Rob was standing when he felt that pain at the base of his skull.