Mint On The Pillow

Part Nine - A Sim-ple Solution?

1.00am

The Homely Motel was anything but, Miss Parker noted bitterly as she stepped into her extremely basic room and shut the door against the cold February night. At least it was warm, there was a bed... she couldn't stop her eyes from wandering to the head of the bed and noticing that this low-budget establishment did not provide mints on the pillows. Thank goodness for small mercies.

That infuriatingly polite nurse had finally kicked all the visitors out at midnight, and being as she'd rather die than accept Suzie's offer of a spare bed in her student digs, she found herself reluctantly checking into the dubious comfort of the nearest motel away from the oppressive city centre.

Of course, she could have gone back to the Majestic Hotel; it was certainly more the style of accommodation she was accustomed to, but she knew that everything in that place would remind her of her last visit, of the hopes that were made and broken in Room 101. Then there was the macabre fact that Jarod had been hit right outside the hotel, mown down by a drunk driver who had only gathered his wits enough to drag his victim down the side alley and speed away. As sheer luck would have it, the bastard had been stopped by the police two miles down the road and found to be eight times over the legal limit. It was a good job he was already locked away awaiting his trial, because Miss Parker felt an overwhelming urge to put him in a coma.

She kicked off her shoes and flopped ungracefully down on the bed. Weary to her very core, she reached down to the floor where she'd dumped her bag and fished for the cigarettes she'd promised herself she would give up a long time ago. Tonight, she decided, was not the night for quitting. As she rifled in her bag she found her phone and drew it out. It was turned off; hospital rules. She pressed the on button and lit a much-needed cigarette as the phone chimed to life, adding an extra little melody to signify a message received. With a sigh she stretched out on her back and let out a plume of smoke towards the ceiling as she held the phone to her ear.

- - - - - - - - - -

Sydney sat at the little coffee table in his room, the silver case open before him. He had wanted these discs back for so long; the only record of his life's work in the Pretender Project, but in truth he'd gladly give them up to have Jarod well again.

He picked a disc at random and inserted it into the player. A twelve-year old Jarod stared back, strapped into a full-size model race car. Most children would have considered it a fabulous toy, but Jarod's young face was filled with dread.

"The brakes are out! I can't stop! Aaaaarrrghhh!"

Sydney put his hand to his forehead, guilt coursing though him as he saw himself in black and white, almost twenty years younger, pacing round the car yelling question after question at the distressed Pretender.

He hit the stop button and ejected it. Switching to a new disc, another scenario unfolded before him. Sydney closed his eyes and sat back, listening to Jarod's voice, measured and analytical. Such a remarkable intellect... if only he were here now, he could probably simulate a way out of his own predicament--

But he did! Sydney sat up quickly and started to search through the discs, looking for a specific date: the week that he and his twin brother had been run off the road, leaving Jacob in a coma. He had been utterly distraught in the days following the accident, in his grief searching for any glimmer of hope to cling to. To that end he'd asked Jarod to perform a new simulation, one not ordered by the Centre...

He found the disk and set it to play.

- - - - - - - - - -

CENTRE ARCHIVES : JAROD

08/12/1967 09:20

A younger Sydney crouched down in front of the boy.

"Jarod, I have a favour to ask you."

"What is it, Sydney?"

"You have to promise me that you'll keep it a secret. This is a simulation which I hope will answer a question I have--"

"Will it make you happy again? You've been sad this week." The perceptive child commented.

Sydney put his hands on the boy's shoulders, "Perhaps. Now, I would like for you to determine the likelihood that a comatose patient can actually hear the world around him, even if he is unable to respond..." he handed Jarod a printout of charts and numbers, "And, given these statistics, calculate the probability of recovery."

Jarod nodded and went quietly to the far corner of the room, sat down and started to study the paper.

CENTRE ARCHIVES : JAROD

08/13/1967 11.18

A whole day later, Jarod was still in exactly the same position, frowning. Finally he got up went over to a table at which Sydney sat.

"Well, Jarod? What are your findings?"

"In this case there's an 89 percent chance that the patient is aware of his surroundings,"

Sydney smiled slightly at this, "Go on."

"Sydney, there's no accurate prediction I can make about recovery. There is no current treatment that could cure him, but..." he glanced back at his paper and placed it face down on the table, "I think it depends on the will of the individual."

"And do you think there is anything that can assist the patient, give him strength to fight?"

The boy though about this for a moment, his face solemn in concentration. "He needs a reason to wake up... to be reminded of something unfinished in his life. I think he would only wake up to resolve a very important issue." He declared with confidence.

- - - - - - - - - -

Sydney closed the silver briefcase and grabbed his cell phone, hastily dialling Miss Parker's number. For the first time since he laid eyes on Jarod's battered body in the hospital, the psychiatrist began to feel hope.

He'd only just pressed the call button when an impatient banging on his door made him jump. He opened it to find Miss Parker right outside, her coat pocket ringing. Without invitation she barged in and whirled around to face him.

"We've got a big problem, Syd. Raines is on his way with the Terrible Two."

"What!"

"Broots called; you didn't check your messages either, then."

"How could they have found out?"

"It doesn't matter how!" Miss Parker was practically yelling, "We have three hours at most before that hospital gets flooded with Sweepers and we get done for aiding and abetting!"

As Miss Parker's anxious pacing continued, Sydney simply sat down on the edge of the coffee table, staring fixedly at the floor, his phone still held loosely in his hand.

Miss Parker looked at the entranced shrink and cursed silently. She stepped over to him and lowered her face to within two inches of his.

"Sydney!" she barked, "This is no time to go catatonic! We have to--"

Sydney's unfocused eyes snapped up to meet hers, then. "Miss Parker," he cut her off in a low, dangerous whisper, "I'm thinking."

Parker backed away, exasperated. Sydney rose and turned his attention back to the cell phone, dialling again.

"Karl? This is Sydney. I need you and Suzie to meet Miss Parker and I at the hospital right away."

"You sound like a man with a plan," Miss Parker commented dryly as Sydney snatched up his tweed jacket and headed for the door, "It is just for shrinks or do you care to let me play?"

Sydney looked at her levelly, "How about a game of pretend?"

End of Part Nine