Please note: I do not own this Universe, nor the storyline, only most of the characters mentioned in this story. All other characters and plot are based on "The Pedestrian" by Ray Bradbury, and belong to him.
Peer Gynt Suite No. 1, Op. 46: Morning Mood sounded throughout my hotel room through my new ambience setting alarm clock I had bought at Brookstone yesterday. It was way too early. Yet, I wanted everything to be perfect today, so it was alright. I had layed all my clothing out the night before, making sure nothing was missing. I picked my white coat up, the Cornell University logo reminded me of how far I had come, and instantly made me feel better. I ironed my clothing to perfection, bathed, shaved, flossed, brushed my teeth, used mouth wash, even cleaned my shoes one las time, and it was still too early. It didn't matter.
I scanned through Dr. Smith's biography one last time. His work astonished me as much as it had the first time I had read about it. Mom called. I was surprised to her from her so early. We chated about Wyoming, Med School, Dr. Smith, the Research Trip, and Dad. Her voice was always soothing to the ear.
Before I knew it, t'was time to get breakfast. At the hotel's cefeteria, I saw the rest of the group. "Mornin' Paul." Said Jon Burton, my best friend and fellow classmate. "Mornin' Jonny." I answered back. "Eat up gentlemen, we have a long day ahead." Said Cameron Goodman, another mate. "We do". Jon answered back. "But it's going to be a great one sin't it boys?" Asked Professor Dunbar enthusiastically "It sure will Professor." I replied back confidently. he gave me smirk.
After a substantial buffet, we took our bags to the van and were on our way. I made sure to keep my chocolate brown hair in check.
"I'm so hyped right now!" Said Jon as the van started moving. We were selected by Professor Dunbar to go on a "bigger-than-usual field trip" with him. We would go to the Psychiatric Center for Research on Regressive Tendencies and meet Senior Researcher Gerald Smith, whose alma mater was Cornell. That last bit made me feel proud.
"Amazing isn't it?" Asked Professor Dunbar. "A genuine beut." Said Cameron as we approached the immense white building designed by master architect Frank Ghery's great grandson.
Stepping outside of the van made my feet feel lighter than ever. I could ot belive my eyes. The most important building in medical history was right before my eyes.
We stepped inside, a long corridor was ahead. A stunning lady in a white pencil skirt greeted us.
"Welcome gentlemen, to the Psychiatric Center for Research on Regressive Tendencies, I am your hostess, Jennifer. Today you will be observing the first myelin removal surgery in history, performed by one of the best researchers in the world, S.R. Smith. Follow me."
"Thank you, Jennifer." Replied profesor Dunbar as we followed our "hostess" through the facility. On either side, clear windows showed the greatest researchers in the world at work. After about 300m, we stopped at a staff lounge. Jeniffer insisted we made ourselves comfortable. I could have purchased some MnM's from the vending machine, but I wanted my breath fresh (even though I was carrying some mints). After about 6 minutes, it happened.
Senior Researcher Gerald Smith casually walked through the door. I could not believe it, what a kind man, he had come to greet us.
"Hello there gentlemen, good morning." He said in a TV show host-like voice. "Good morning S.R. Smith" We replied. "You've come a long way haven't you kiddo?" Asked Proffesor Dunbar mockingly. Smith chuckled. "All thanks to you Prof."He asked for our names and majors. We mingled for a bit, it was great. "Well, hope you brought a filmtaker, 'cause this is the first of it's kind. Hope this serves as a nurturing experience." Smith said while shaking our hands. He smiled and left the room.
The trip could have stopped there and still been totally worth it. I had met my idol! "What a great guy!" Said Cameron. "He's so chill." Said Jon. "Thank you for this Professor." I said to Professor Dunbar. "You deserved this gentlemen." He replied.
Jennifer walked in. "The procedure will begin in two minutes, please take a seat."
We sat down as the wall of the lounge became transparent. We could see the other side, but the surgical team could not see us.
We saw a prístine white room with polished equipment on the other side. Then, they walked in. The greatest research surgery team in history. I knew these people from books, I felt like a new their bios like stats on baseball cards.
They took their positions and Jennifer stood at the door of the surgery room.
A large white android carrying a man inside a cage stood at the doorway.
The man was in his late forties, seem like a decent man, but if he was here, then he did something wrong.
Jennifer began. "Welcome to the Psychiatric Center for Research on Regressive Tendencies".
"Today you will be part of our newest program, the Neural Purge".
"Please! You've got the wrong man!" Said the subject inside his cage.
"These lovely gentlemen will be taking care of you today. We hope you the best... Mr. Mead". Said Jennifer as she revised her clipboard.
The android proceded to remove the subject from his restraints, only to then attach him to the surgical table.
"Nooo!" Screeched the subject as a needle slid through his pores and the anesthesia was supplied.
He fell sound asleep, but twitched as if having a bad dream every once in a while.
"Not much of a fighter that one". Said Tamara Landy, a Harvard educated surgeon, Smith's right hand.
"Alright, let's focus chaps". Said SR. Smith as he reviewed the subject's medical sheet.
"Mead, Leonard. Caucasian male, 46 years old, accused of... walking down the street?" Smith's voice got a bit high pitched near the end of the sentence.
"That's a first". Said Landy in a curious tone.
"Ok, Sampson, razor ready?" SR. Smith asked Arthur Sampson, the Princeton educated medical tech expert.
"All systems up and running, all I need are you orders boss". He answered promptly.
"One last time for safe keeping." Said Smith as if about to explain something. "We're going to open his skull, extract myelin (the substance that encorches practice and skill) from his brain in order to erase his memory, sow the skull back together, and place the subject in cryogenesys. Understood?" Said SR. Smith in a military-like tone. "Understood." Replied the members of the team. "We've got this ,G." Said Landy.
"Our careers have led up to this moment folks, let's ace this." Said Smith dramatically. I got goosebumps be hearing that.
"Engage in three...two...one." He said calmly.
Sampson flicked a red switch at his command table.
A large mechanical arm lowered itself from overhead, it had a hole with spinning razors at its tip, like an overpowered cigar cutter.
And so, my dream job unfolded before me.
The arm's hole was placed just above the subject's eyebrows, and the razors removed the scalp neatly. Any blod would be collected by smaller arms that deployed from the big one, so no mess would be made.
"Scalp separated." Notified Manny Wellington, fellow Cornelian, lead anatomy specialist.
within the hole at the armas tip, the razors switches for drills, and the removal of the skull began. It seemed so risky, yet, no one flinched for a second. They must've invested a lot of research time in this.
"Ready for cerebral exposure." Said Sampson.
"Do it." Said SR. Smith.
A second, smaller mechanical arm with fingers took a good trip of the scalp and skull, and plucked it from "Mead's" head, like plucking a father off a chick.
And the it was, the brain. Exposed. A lot more greyish than what I had seen at Cornell's labs. Jon's jaw dropped.
"Continue." Said Smith.
"Deploying extraction needle." Replied Sampson promptly.
The mechanical arm with fingers switched one of it's fingers out with a syringe, and approached the subject's brain.
"Myelin estructure located, ready for extraction." Said Sampson in a robotic tone.
"Proceed." Said Smith.
The syringe's needle penetrated into the subject's brain, making a little "squish" noise as it did". I could feel my face squint as it happened.
"Beginning with 10% myelin extraction." Said R. Tamara Landy she gave Sampson a look to do so.
"So it begins." Said Wellington.
"Concentrate". Said Landy, cutting him off.
"10%" said Sampson while slowly moving a lever.
"Brain activity normal." Reported Wellington.
"Continue up to 30%, but stop if anything inusual happens." Ordered Smith.
Sampson nodded and began to move the lever. I was surprised at how SR. Smith was ready to take risks.
"30%." Said Sampson.
"Manny?" Asked Landy.
"All good here." He replied.
"Then proceed to 50%."
They repeated the same process, and still after extracting 50% of his brain's myelin, his cerebral activity was still pretty much the same.
Smith then ordered 75%, but still, nothing that indicaste that his mind had been "purged".
"We've taken out quite a lot of this stuff." Said R. Wellington.
"I don't remember asking." Replied R. Landy.
"Settle down you two." Said Smith. His face indicating psychoanalysis.
"Alright, let's try another 5% extraction Arthur." He said in a friendly tone.
"Another 5% it is boss." Said R. Sampson.
The syringe continued it's work, but when hitting 75.5% extraction...
"Wait, something's wrong. Activity seems to be decreasing." Said R. Wellington worrily.
"On the contrary, that's our signal, engage to 76%". Said Smith confidently.
But when 76% of Mead's myelin had been extracted...
A prolonged "beep" was heard. They were losing him.
"Manny, defibrillator." Said Smith.
Wellington gave Smith the machine, and for the first time I saw my hero get hands on with the dirty work. He trueno the defibrillator on and gave the subject one pulse.
"Nothing." Said Sampson, while looking at his monitor.
"T, give me a higher shock." Ordered Smith.
Landy preside some buttons on a module and nodded.
SR. Smith then took the defibrillator, along witha deep breath, and gave Mead an Earth-rattling shock.
"Wellington?" Asked SR. Smith expectantly.
(...)
A small beep was heard, then another, and another.
"He's back!" Yelped R. Wellington blissfully.
The entire team and us on the other side celebrated.
"Great news." Said SR. Smith. "Alright, Sampson, return 1% back to the subject's brain."
"Will do". Replied Sampson. As he moved his hand backwards on the lever, the syringe returned a tad of what it had taken from the brain.
"All cerebral activity stable, but no evident signs of erratic signals (AKA resgressive tendencies).
"Are you saying..." Hesitated R. Wellington.
"We did it folks." Said SR. Smith as if about to burst into bliss.
"Yes!" Celebrated both sides to the glass wall.
"Sampson." Said R. Landy. "You know what to do".
Sampson nodded, moved some switches, and the mechanical arm removed the syringe and attached the skull and scalp back on Mead's head.
"Engaging sowing". Said Sampson.
From one of the mechanical arms, a contraption, similar to a sowing machine's tip, began to seal the breach between both parts of the skull. When it was finished, it folded back into place. To my surprise, the subject's face did not look as if it had been in a surgery at all.
"Begin cryogenysis". Ordered Smith.
Sampson flipped one last switch, and the surgical table moved upright, with it's subject still strapped to it, and an ampty thank lowered onto it. It then began to fill itself with a cerulean blue liquid, which then froze.
Mead stood there, immovilized, his face without an expression, soul completely lost.
It was amazing, I could not have possible asked for more. That was it, I needed to become a researcher and come here. and lead breakthroughs like these. It was my dream to do so.
After a couple of hours of speaking with Proffesor Dunbar about the surgery and the experience. We walked outside and met with the entire team. We celebrated along with them, and congratulaste each and every one of them. SR. Smith introduce us to the team, officially. It was the best moment of my life. Even Jennifer was smiling. A saw SR. Smith look at her, she looked back, but then they both stopped looking. Emotion is not something very pleasing nowadays. Nevertheless, Smith had become my irreplacable hero forever.
The rest of the trip was dull, but it didm't matter, because SR. Smith told me in private that he was expecting me to be there someday. I told him that I win't going to let him down. And I wasn't.
Back in Ithaca, I called my mother and we chatted. Then, I did what anybody else would do to celebrate sucha great time. Watch television.
I always thought about the amazing breakthrough, and the team's smarts, it was the only thing I could think about.
But never did I think about that cryogenized man ever again...
My parents, they'd be proud.