Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 128413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Instead, he spoke with utmost politeness as he said, “If you’d follow me to the examination room and take a seat on the chair, we can collect your vitals. It’s critical to keep an eye on all factors as you come closer to birthing the fetus.”
“That’s why I’m here,” she said in a crisp tone as they walked into the examination room. “It’s possible I had a seizure while in the air piloting the chopper.”
“That’s indeed a cause for serious concern.” He set her up in the examination chair that had only ever been used for Auden, after being produced when she was a young teenager and being left fallow for years so any remaining imprints on it could fade.
Once she was in the chair that monitored far too many parameters of her body, the doctor examined the feed on his screens. “I’m seeing elevated levels of adrenaline, cortisol, and other indicators of stress.”
“I’m concerned about the pregnancy,” Auden said, shaping her words to echo the doctor’s coldness.
“I assumed as much. Such physical responses are impossible to control no matter how good our Silence.” He peered closer at the screen. “There are a few other minor fluctuations, but nothing important. We’ll have to do a neural scan.”
Chapter 19
None of Henry’s biological material survived his death, and the other male members of his family are unsuitable for psychic reasons I’ve outlined below. I’m afraid we’ll have to widen the search.
—Message from Charisma Wai to Shoshanna Scott (14 June 2082)
AUDEN HATED THIS. Doctors playing with her brain was how she’d ended up brain damaged. But for now, it appeared Dr. Verhoeven would do exactly as Auden decreed. “Nothing invasive,” she ordered. “The pregnancy is too far along to take any kind of risk.”
“Yes, of course. I would never put your well-being in jeopardy, sir.” With that strange remark that focused on Auden and not the baby he’d been obsessed with to date, Dr. Verhoeven fitted a helmet of fine mesh over her head, then connected it to the scanner as well as the secondary scanner that would confirm his findings. “Shall I proceed?”
Hands curled lightly around the ends of the chair arms, and kept lax through sheer effort of will, Auden gave another one of those curt nods that were coming without effort. And though she believed the doctor would do as he’d said and not attempt an invasive procedure, she still had to clench her stomach when he began the scan.
From the outside, she knew it looked like blue-green fire dancing through the strands of the mesh, a strange beauty.
“Please recite the alphabet,” the doctor said. “Then numerals from one to a hundred.”
Auden was familiar with this part of the process—it was the way they’d calibrated the machines so that her readings could be judged against the same metric over time. The letters, then numbers emerged in a smooth progression.
“Excellent.” The doctor looked about as excited as a man who’d spent seven decades in Silence could look, his florid face patchy and hot. “The increase in neural activity is remarkable. Almost ninety-five percent of the previously dead spots are once again active.”
Dead spots.
Scars.
Put inside her by her parents.
If Auden had once known the graft’s intended purpose, she’d lost access to that information during her blank years. She had, however, picked up hints since her mind began to work properly again. “Stretching” had been one term she’d heard the doctor mutter in relation to the procedure, and on its own, the word made no sense when related to the brain.
She could just demand the information…but she was currently balanced on a knife edge when it came to her autonomy—she couldn’t afford to reveal any hint of weakness, even if only by making the doctor and Charisma consciously aware of her lack of knowledge. Both spoke to her on the assumption that she already knew.
As the doctor proved with his next statement.
“It’s possible the seizure was triggered by the increase,” the doctor mused. “As you’re well aware, sir, this entire procedure is wholly new territory—we have no idea how or why the brain is recovering, though we believe it’s linked to the fetus. But add in the other factor and things become more complicated.”
The other factor.
What other factor? Auden wanted to demand, feeling as if she was playing a game to which everyone but her knew the rules. “I think it’s time I had a good look through all my medical records, especially those that relate to my brain,” she said at last, after calculating the risk of such a demand and deciding it was minimal; it fit the Auden the doctor knew in this time and place.
Perhaps she could finally gain answers to the mystery of what they’d done to her.
“I’ll make sure you have access to them,” the doctor said at once, “but I’m afraid most of the notes and scans are esoteric and will need a specialist eye to understand. I’m happy to go through them with you.”