Chapter 9: Mind over Matter
Green, green, green, red.
There it was again, this time nestled among rows of apples sitting in an open market stand.
Such occurrences had become so commonplace that Kenneth Miller barely registered them at that point, his brain acknowledging the pattern of colours to be as much a part of the scenery as the buildings that unfolded either side of him from within the taxi cab he currently occupied. But ever since previous day's incident in the lab, he had begun to notice the colours everywhere he went, the once passive ability he had possessed for the last twenty-six years reawakened to a clarity the likes of which he had not known since childhood.
In a woman's freshly-bought bouquet of flowers, there was a blood-red rose with three green leaves jutting from the stem.
It seemed that he could not go five minutes without seeing something that reminded him of the pattern. Yet, he was already beginning to phase out the pattern's prevalence to mere background noise, a skill he had acquired as a child when he first began to notice it. He remembered the day he first became aware of the colours. He must have been three or four at the time, playing a game of jacks by himself in the driveway. The ball bounced high, and his small infant hands swiped a handful of the scattered jacks in a deft, singular motion. He unclenched his hand to see three green jacks and one of red. It was a strangely alluring sequence, and when he eventually ceased staring at it to play another round, Kenneth recalled that was disappointed when he did not get the same hand.
A man riding a red bicycle passed a row of trees in front of a nearby park.
He had been musing on the pattern's significance ever since Test Subject Three's death. Processing what scarce information was available to him, he managed to make a few logical inferences. That the pattern frequently reoccurred in nature implied that it held greater significance. He theorized that it might be some mathematical constant that had yet to be discovered, with the circumference of perfect circles and the Golden Ratio as its kin. Then there was the frequency that changed Mike LeRoi; the pattern was quite clearly related to it, judging from the message the mouse imparted to Kenneth upon its death.
And last, but not least, there was him. He could see the pattern, so there was obviously some innate quality differentiating him from the rest, something that made him special. In fact, now that he thought about it, the game of jacks in that 1957 summer afternoon was one of his earliest memories, perhaps even his first. What did it mean, then, that he has perceived a pattern the rest were oblivious to for the entirety of his life? He couldn't quite say.
A trio of olive green awnings hung from the face of a Greek restaurant, followed immediately after by a smoke shop's burgundy veranda.
With such little data, he was not in the least bit surprised when he came face to face with the inevitable impasse. A random pattern of colours, a lab rat transformed by an electromagnetic frequency, and a man smack dab in the middle of it all. That's all he had, a few flimsy variables in an equation he did not possess. But all equations can be solved, he figured; it was only a matter of time before it would reveal its parts to him. In the meantime, he decided that he would seek to define the rest of the problem's variables, as any physicist would. There was nothing else he could do at that point other than to let the matter go, and that option was ruled out by that insatiable curiosity that drove him and all other scientists forward on their eternal quest for what lay beyond.
What better place to start this quest, he thought, than at the Harvard Lab.
Doctor Bishop had called him late last night, asking him to come to the lab the next morning with a certain sense of urgency. As it would seem, a surprising turn of events unfolded last night during the autopsy of Test Subject Three. After paying his fare, he entered the grounds of the university, making haste along the stone pathways that divided the Yard while wondering what circumstances could possibly warrant his unscheduled summoning.
"Hey, Kenneth! Wait up!"
Carla intercepted him from a perpendicular walkway. They stopped at the confluence of the paths, with Carla taking a moment to catch her breath.
"Aren't we in a hurry?" chided Kenneth.
"I kind of slept longer than I should have, so I got here as fast as I could," she explained, slightly embarrassed.
"Do you know what's going on?"
"No, I don't. I guess it has to do with the autopsy, and I tried getting more out of Doctor Bishop when he called me last night, but he said that he wanted to wait until everyone was at the lab before saying anything else."
"No point in standing around, then," said Kenneth. "We should get going."
The pair traversed campus to reach the Kresge Building. Once there, they descended to the basement level, breaching the doors at corridor's end to enter Walter Bishop's laboratory. Clamour resounded from the recesses of the lab, and moments later, out came Walter, who, assisted by Bruce and Alice, was busy transporting boxes of equipment to other areas of the lab.
"Good morning!" said Walter, noticing the new arrivals. "I'll be with you shortly."
He then disappeared into a dark corner of the lab, leaving Kenneth and Carla by themselves. They had no other choice but to bide their time; Kenneth played percussionist with random objects on a table while Carla proceeded to read an article about dolphins from the most recent National Geographic issue. Not five minutes passed before Simon showed up, completing the lab assistant roster.
"Soooo," asked Simon, approaching his colleagues, "what do you think our good friend Mikey has in store for us this time?"
"I don't know," replied Kenneth. "But whatever it is, I suppose we're about to find out."
They didn't have to wait long. The transportation of equipment completed, Walter emerged into the main expanse of the lab, tailed closely by Bruce and Alice.
"Excellent!" said Walter, clasping his hands. "Now that everyone has arrived, we can begin."
Walter then placed his hands on the railing of the elevated walkway before his assistants.
"As you've no doubt guessed, the reason I have called you in today concerns a rather intriguing development that has occurred last night," he began. "Yesterday, Mister Murray and Miss Brenner assisted me in the autopsy of Test Subject Three, with the goal of ascertaining the nature of the specimen's transformation following its exposure to the electromagnetic frequency. It was during this autopsy that the strangest of things occurred."
"What happened?" asked Simon. "Did he blow up or something?"
"Well," said Alice, "not exactly."
Kenneth exchanged glances of perplexity with Carla and Simon. Alice looked to Walter, who nodded, prompting her to continue.
"After you guys left yesterday, we prepped the body for an autopsy. It was going fine for awhile, but the body suddenly started to vibrate faster and faster until it just disintegrated intolittle bits of yellowish light that floated in the air for a few seconds before fading away entirely."
Bruce proceeded to simulate a small explosion with expanding hands, complete with appropriate noises and further lending credence to Alice's tale; the display would have been humorous if the absurdity of the recounted events were not superseded by the reality of it all.
"Did you guys find out why it disintegrated?" asked Kenneth, cross-armed.
"No, not yet," admitted Walter. "And I don't suppose we ever will, seeing as we no longer have a body to examine. However, I do have a few theories. And if I'm correct, the implications could potentially change the way we as humans view consciousness."
Doctor Bishop made his way to the blackboard, his assistants following suit. He selected a piece of chalk before beginning to expound on his ideas with the multitude of animated gestures and the scribbling of diagrams and poorly drawn figurines that typically accompanied his scientific narrations.
"Now, I theorize that our experiment was, in fact, a success," he started. "With a combination of nootropic drugs and exposure to a specific band of electromagnetic frequencies, the specimen's bioelectric field – and by extension, its mental capacities – were effectively amplified. However, it would seem that the specimen's brain was unable to reconcile with this newly-acquired awareness, and it died of cardiac arrest from the shock of it moments later."
What an unfortunate end, thought Kenneth. He had trouble imagining the enormous cognitive dissonance Mike must have experienced in its final moments of lucidity. At least he had enough time to relay his final message.
"Due to the amplification of the specimen's field," continued Walter, "its molecular structure became more energized, and therefore unstable. It was so unstable, in fact, that the atomic bonds could not possibly have remained coherent for as long as it did. Therefore, there must have been some element that was holding the specimen's body together in this heightened vibrational state."
"Consciousness," clued Kenneth.
"Very impressive, Mister Miller," said Walter with a smile.
Kenneth was pleased with the acclaim, even though he didn't think he was as clever as Doctor Bishop made him out to be; after all, Walter did preface his presentation with talk of the notion.
"Indeed," continued the scientist, "I believe it was consciousness that was maintaining molecular cohesion. The electromagnetic frequencies caused the brain's fundamental configuration to be altered, becoming more complex to compensate for these sudden, induced changes in the organism's molecular structure. And, since the brain houses consciousness, the latter also grew more complex, more advanced. But it was not the frequencies alone that did this. The drugs we administered changed the specimen's chemical balance in a way that his body reacted to the frequencies the way it did; I further posit that they helped counteract the great strain the transition must have placed on it."
Walter pointed to his shoddily-drawn representation of Michael LeRoi on the blackboard.
"At this point, the brain – and by extension, the mind – became the regulator of the body's amplified bioelectric potential, distributing all this excess energy equally throughout the system and holding every highly-energized atom in its place. So when the specimen died, there was nothing left to hold its body together. The atomic bonds gradually weakened from the accelerating strain until they decayed completely, and its body disintegrated into an atomic liberation of pure thermal and luminous energy – an event some of us had the opportunity to witness firsthand."
Silence filled the lab. The team took the time to digest all the information they had just received, working out the kinks in Walter's set of ideas in communal silence as they usually did following one of his lengthy conjectures. Simon was the first to speak.
"Your theory is pretty solid," he began. "I don't think we're any closer to understanding the nature of consciousness like you said we would, though."
"I suppose that is so," acknowledged Walter. "However, I believe that we may have just had a small glimpse into the bigger picture. Think of the possibilities! The answer to the Mind-Body problem that has been debated by mankind for thousands of years may now lie just beyond our grasp. Do these results mean that consciousness is separate from the brain, or that they are distinct things? Our understanding of ourselves and of the universe around us could be radically changed."
Kenneth's brows burrowed. Science, religion, philosophy; the lines demarcating theories from facts from ideas were slowly fading away, with only the mystery holding it all together.
"Alright," continued Simon. "Suppose Mikey's relatively inferior cognition was his downfall. Does this mean that species with more complex brains would better handle the amplification process?"
"I don't see why not," said Bruce. "Seems the next logical step would be to perform tests with more intelligent organisms. Heh, maybe we'll end up creating some sort of genius canine."
"Or a smartass octopus," quipped Simon.
"What about humans?" suggested Kenneth.
All chatter ceased as Kenneth voiced aloud the thought that had crossed everyone's mind at that point.
"Since humans have the most developed and complex brains of any species discovered so far," he continued to explain, "then it's only logical that humans would make the ultimate test subjects."
Carla frowned at the implications of Kenneth's suggestion.
"I don't think I'm too comfortable with the notion of human experimentation," she said. "Besides, having a superior brain doesn't guarantee that animals smarter than rodents won't just die as well. It would be way too risky. Not to mention unethical."
"Now, let's not get too ahead of ourselves," warned Walter. "Our concern at the moment is to investigate the causes and effects surrounding the rodent's transformation, nothing more. Still, I can't deny that I am eager to see how we can apply these findings for the greater benefit of humanity. Enhanced senses, greater physical prowess, increased longevity; who knows what we will be able to reap from the fruits of our research? Perhaps the secrets of life and death or even of God Himself will be revealed to us in time. Whatever the case may be, this is proving to be a very promising venue for scientific research. I will have to devise a new series of experiments aiming to explore the nature of this mysterious band of frequencies."
The lab assistants smiled in collective excitement at the prospects of their new mission. But no one was more excited than Kenneth; for in the Bio-Frequency Trials rested his best hopes in uncovering the mysteries surrounding him. So when Walter put his assistants to work on other secondary scientific research projects and experiments the team had been carrying out in the past few months, Kenneth proceeded to note changes in cellular structure of plant species exposed to psychedelic compounds with additional gusto.
Upon passing by a table, he noticed, in the far corner of the lab, the Frequency Chamber, the place where his vermin friend momentarily saw the face of Truth in all its resplendent glory. Kenneth silently hoped that he would come to a similar enlightening experience by the end of it all.
Green, green, green, red.
From his current perspective, a trio of plants on a table were bookended with a beaker of red chemical on a shelf further back in the lab; no sooner did he notice this that Bruce took the middle plant and carried it elsewhere, breaking the pattern's continuity. Kenneth shook his head, smirking. There seemed to be no escape from the haunting, ubiquitous spectre of the colours.
And that suited him just fine, for he intended to uncover the true nature of this mysterious pattern, no matter what it took.
A/N: As it was in The Arrival, The Deceived has but one Kenneth-centric. But don't despair; PTS III will have three of them. 8D