If you want to get a Hat
Emily came over and stood in front of me. “So, which is the next head?”
I removed my feet from the table, sat up, and checked the screen. “Head 2563.”
“That’s an unusual number.”
I checked the screen. “Yes, it’s an old one. Henry Brown – expired 1st April 2020.”
“Wow, that’s ancient! Why are we bothering?”
Emily was my intern; she really believed that we would achieve something and make that breakthrough. I didn’t. We were asked to do something, and we did it. It was a job. I checked the details. “Okay, the wet storage process used was advanced for its time and the scans are indicating minimal damage.”
Emily sighed, “We’ll see.”
We got up and walked to head storage, officially called Second Life Enablement Waiting Area (SLEWA). I always enjoyed the trips to head storage, Wanda was there, and I would take any excuse to visit her. As usual, Wanda wasn’t busy; she flicked her hair and showed me her titanium white teeth. “Hi ya – haven’t seen you for a while.”
I leant on the counter and smiled back. “Yeah, that’s right –not for a long while – not since – oh yes, yesterday.”
“Yeah,” said Wanda, “yesterday.”
Wanda was a looker, strawberry blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and full lips. Emily was certain that she was genetically modified. If so, it was great that genetic modification was finally being used for something totally useful. “So, did you see that film?”
“Yeah, it was so good; Fargul took me to see it.”
No! Fargul, I hated that guy; he was always hanging around Wanda. If anyone needed genetic modification, it was that creep.
Emily butted in. “Do you think we can get that head?”
“Sure – what’s the patient identifier?”
“It’s 2563.”
Wanda checked her system and stood up. “That’s an old one.” She looked at Emily, and then briefly brushed my hand. “I’ll be back in a tick.”
Emily looked at my grin. “You know she’s just a flirt, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” I said.
Wanda returned. The head was on a trolley in a clear container. “Here you go. I just need your thumbprint to check out the patient.”
Patient, who was she kidding, it was just a head. I gave her my thumbprint. “Thanks. We’ll see what we can do.”
“Well, maybe you’ll be lucky. Fargul had some success with a head from the same batch.”
“Success – Fargul?”
“Yeah, the head blinked. Everyone was so excited.”
“Was there any associated brain activity?” asked Emily.
Wanda shrugged. “I don’t know the details. The Director came down; it looks like Fargul may get MVE.”
I grimaced, “Most Valuable Employee, for a blinking head?”
Emily smiled, “Hey, funny.”
Wanda looked blank. Sense of humour wasn’t her strong point. Perhaps it was hard to identify the DNA responsible for humour.
“Okay,” I said, “we’ll see what we can do with what’s his name.”
“Brown,” said Emily, “Mr Brown.”
Emily wheeled the head on the trolley. If Fargul could get a response from a head, then anyone could. Although this was our twenty-third head, and the best response we had so far was slight facial movement, accompanied by brain activity in the lower left cortex.
Emily stopped pushing the trolley and turned to me. “What’s the big deal about MVE, anyway?”
“Most Valuable Employee – I’ll show you.”
We went through a door by reception. Second Life’s reception area featured a lilac decor and expensive chocolate leather chairs. There were video screens all around advertising the chance of a second life. It was pure fantasy; it looked professional though, and it looked expensive. But then we were asking people to hand over a lot of money, the cost of a small London house. And of course, the relatives would always be against it.
A security guard shouted across at us. “Oi, what are you doing? No patients are allowed in reception. Don’t you know the rules?”
I frowned, “Patient?”
He marched across and pointed to the trolley. “You’re lucky there’re no clients here.”
Emily pushed the trolley back through the door. “It’s okay – I’m taking the patient back.”
The receptionist glowered at us. The security guard nodded and went back to his seat.
We walked over to the MVE wall. “Sorry about that,” I said. “They can be touchy.”
The MVE wall had animated photographs showing the presentations of previous years. The winners were shaking hands with the Director, who would hand them their MVE cap and an envelope containing a substantial cheque and the holiday tickets. Afterwards, they received the glass MVE award. You could see that for the last two years Wanda had been doing the presentations with the Director.
I could picture myself standing in front of the Director; wearing my purple MVE cap. Then Wanda would give me with the MVE award. It would be brilliant and then I could casually ask if Wanda would want to come on the holiday with me.
Emily was studying the animated photos; she looked at me with a furrowed brow. “Why is Wanda presenting the award?”
What was Emily on about? Who else would you get to do it?
“Come on, we need this head to show a bit of life.”
The whole Cryo-Preservation service was generally thought of as a disaster. A group in Switzerland had once got a head to survive for three weeks. Their head even responded to simple questions. It was a breakthrough, but that was two years ago and no one had come close since.
We went back to the lab. I gave Emily a little speech. “Look, if Fargul can do it, there’s no reason why we can’t. We just need to be methodical. We need to check anything. It’s important we make some progress.”
Emily nodded. She seemed persuaded. I let her connect the head up, and I sat down and read the football results. My team were going through a rough patch, it was depressing. I went over to see how Emily was getting on. She was keen and very competent. I checked the connections, which all looked okay, so I warmed up the blood. Once it reached the correct temperature, I drained the head of its preservative liquid and started pumping the blood through. I turned the pressure up a bit; I wanted this baby to sing.
I went back to the monitor and checked for signs of life. There was a little activity in the cerebellum. Things were looking good. After a few minutes, Emily thought she saw the head twitch. I went over to look. Nothing. The head was static.
The monitor was still looking good, though.
“Do you know Mr Brown was actually a doctor?”
I looked over to Emily. “Who?”
“Our patient, Mr Brown, was actually Dr Brown. He was a cardiac specialist.”
“Emily, I’ve told you. Don’t read the patient’s biography. There’s no point.”
“It says he was married with two children.”
“Well, she’ll be long dead.”
“She might be here, waiting to be re-united.”
“Look, just stop reading that, will you? Try some stimulus.”
“Something sweet?”
“Good idea,” I said.
Emily placed syrup on the tongue with a syringe; research had shown that this occasionally gave excellent results.
“That’s it,” said Emily, “look at the face.”
I went over; there was movement in the jaw. I gave the head a tap, “Hallo Mr….”
“Dr Brown,” said Emily.
“Hallo Dr Brown,” I said. “Can you hear me?”
Unbelievably, it seemed he could. His jaw was trying to move.
“Dr Brown, can you hear us?” asked Emily.
The head moved slightly, the jaw lowered.
Emily opened an eyelid. “Yes, Dr Brown.”
The jaw lowered, and the lip trembled. He was trying to speak.
“Hallo Dr Brown,” I said.
The head spoke, “Ha.”
“Jesus, it spoke, the head spoke. It really spoke.”
“Hallo Dr Brown,” said Emily, “can you hear me?”
“Ha – Ha –llo.”
The head said hallo. Emily was now talking away to the head. She even asked Brown if he could remember his wife. It was hard to tell how much he understood, but he could say hallo now on a regular basis. I went to the monitor. Everything was looking good. I could picture myself in front of Wanda, as she was handing me the MVE award. The Director was there, everyone was clapping, it was happening.
“Dr Brown seems to have stopped talking,” said Emily. “Is everything okay?”
“Try more syrup.”
I checked the screen again. Jesus, something was up. There was a blur in the right side of the brain. “There’s a problem.”
Emily came and looked, “Damn, it looks like an aneurysm; some of the blood vessels must be weak.”
“Shit,” I had forgotten to reduce the pressure on the blood, you idiot, idiot. I looked to the sky. Still, it was the best result that our facility had ever achieved.
Emily went over to the head; it looked to be in some agony now.
Just then, the lab door burst open. “Who’s in charge here?” It was a tall man, I recognised as Barrett.
I turned around to face him. “I am.”
“Have you had any communication with the patient?”
“Well, it spoke.”
“Do you know the protocol, you moron? Any communication and you immediately call it in. Immediately. Did you not understand that? What’s the situation now?”
“We believe there the patient has a brain….”
The doors opened again, and three doctors rushed through the door. One stood in front of the head. “Current status?”
“Brain aneurysm, we think,” said Emily.
Barrett waved his hands. “Okay, we’ll take it from here.”
We looked on as one doctor prepared a fine drill.
Barrett turned and frowned. “You can leave. Out.”
I followed behind Emily and trudged out of the room. It was then that I realised I would never get that MVE award. I would never wear that cap and Wanda would never go out with me. Damn, damn, damn.
Emily turned to me. “Oh, dear. That was so terrible.”
I shook my head. “Terrible. You’re telling me; it was a disaster.”
Emily nodded. “Yes, a disaster. Poor Dr Brown.”