Tunnel Vision

33

Zack could tell that something was different the moment he arrived at the lab that Thursday. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but a heightened sense of anticipation charged the air. Sarah regarded him with a little gleam in her eyes, and Dr. Luria’s birthmark was glowing. Stern’s and Cates’s faces were in a forced neutral mode, but he saw something in their manner as they met in Dr. Luria’s office.

“Zack, the fMRI data the other day has been analyzed, and we’re rather impressed.”

“Because I got emotional over a few old photos?”

“Yes, in fact. Last week you asked about the nature of these tests, and we said that part of our investigation was the neurobiology of dreams. Well, the truth of the matter is that you fulfilled the requirements to proceed to the next level. Our concern is not so much with dreams or sleep per se, but with the subjective experience a person may have in a state of very deep sleep.”

Zack sensed the careful wording, but the last three words hovered in the air like plovers.

“We asked you back because the electrical activity in the temporal lobe is quite high, making you an ideal candidate for our investigation.”

“So all that was just a screening.”

“Yes, which most subjects don’t pass,” Luria said. “With your consent, we’d like to move to the next phase. We’d like to lower your metabolic activity so that your brain will be in a state of total repose, where the electrical activity is minimal.”

“How minimal you talking?”

Nobody responded for a moment. Then Dr. Luria said, “We’ll administer an anesthetic compound that will temporarily shut down the electrical activity of cell axons—the circuitry between brain cells. The individual cells will still be alive and healthy, of course. They’ll still have their enzymes, metabolisms, and ATP, adenosine triphosphate, which supplies energy to cells. But while you’re under, individual neurons will cease communicating with each other.”

“You’re going to stop the electrical activity in my brain?”

“The intercellular activity, and only for a short while. And as soon as we’re done, and you’re revived, cell communication will return.”

It was as if his ears had suddenly cleared. “You’re talking about near-death experience.”

“That’s the popular terminology.”

“Like that movie Flatliners.”

“But with a lot better results,” Sarah said.

Dr. Luria continued. “We’re investigating the few moments of space between near death and real death, which is when brain cells begin to die. But because we’ll closely monitor cell activity, we know precisely when to stop before that happens. So it’s perfectly safe. We can guarantee that.”

They stared at him—four big-deal scientists with fancy degrees, surrounded by fancy equipment and stacks of fancy journals. He couldn’t believe what they were saying. “You want to flatline me just this side of death, then bring me back? How can you guarantee that?”

“Because we’ve done it many times before. And because our methodology’s been through rigorous trials, first with mice, then higher primates. And, of course, humans.”

Stern added, “We’ll be monitoring your blood pressure and heart rate—all your vital signs—very closely and can revive you almost at once. It’s perfectly safe, believe me.”

“Has all this been approved by the FDA or whatever?”

Luria nodded. “It’s been cleared by the State Medical Board.”

“Then why the cover story about sleep studies?”

“Because we don’t want the public knowing what we’re doing here. In fact, should you agree to proceed, we’ll ask you to sign a nondisclosure statement.”

“But why?” Zack asked.

“Because of our objectives.”

“Which are?”

“To see if there’s anything to claims of near-death experiences.”

“Like what?”

“Like an afterlife.”

The coordinates of the room seemed to shift. “And I was hoping you’d cure my insomnia.”

“The local drugstore can help you there,” Sarah said. “What we’re doing is looking to see if there’s anything that lies beyond or if all the claims are reducible to neurobiology.”

“But you’re asking my consent to kill me.”

“Not at all,” Stern said. “Zack, we’ve developed a wonderful sedative that safely simulates brain death. In other words, we’ll fool your brain’s electrochemistry into thinking it’s terminal. You’ll effectively enter a flatline state for a few minutes, then we’ll give you a stimulant that immediately fires up full brain activity again.”

He looked at Luria. “It will?”

“Absolutely. There’s no way we’d endanger your life.”

“But what if my brain really thinks it’s dying and begins to turn off the rest of me?”

“That won’t happen,” Sarah said. “We’ll be monitoring you every moment.”

“What if you have a power failure?”

“We have generators that’ll kick in instantly,” she said. “Believe me, you’ll be fine.”

He took refuge in the promise of those tawny brown eyes. “And what about side effects—my memory, my ability to think…?”

“There are none,” Luria said. “Your memory will return. You’ll remember family, friends, your own name, language. Your cognitive powers will be normal. Think of it like a Novocain shot. An hour later, all sensations are back.”

“But while I’m under I’ll be brain-dead.”

“No, while you’re under you could pass for brain-dead. Your brain cells will still be healthy and alive, just silent.”

“And then what?”

“Then we wake you and ask you about any experience you may have had.”

“You mean like moving down a tunnel toward a light, angels or whatever.”

“That’s the prototypical notion, though the experience may be entirely different.”

“But if I’m flatlined, how can I remember experiencing anything?”

“Excellent question,” Dr. Luria said. “If you do have an NDE, those areas of the brain where the neuroelectrical activity takes place will inform other areas of your brain once you’re awake. In other words, your experience will be a kind of residual memory once your whole brain is in synchronicity again.”

Were their manners not so sober and serious, he would have thought they were joking. “This doesn’t even sound like something scientists investigate.”

“You’re right,” Luria said. “In spite of all the fascinating claims in books and the popular press, nobody has ever demonstrated if the phenomenon is real or fantasy. And one reason is that all NDE claims are untestable reports of people who survived heart attacks and accidents et cetera. But here, we conduct NDE experiments under controlled scientific conditions.”

“Of course,” Stern interjected, “we could end up discovering that it’s all in the head, which is what some of us believe.”

“Or that there’s no such thing as death,” Luria said with a flicker in her eyes. “Just a change in state—from physical to spiritual, for lack of a better term. Think how extraordinary that would be.”

Zack’s mind was spinning. “Okay. Say I agree and go down a tunnel or whatever. How would you know that’s the afterlife and not some dream thing?”

“Because once you’re under, your brain cells can’t produce the necessary electrical activity. In short, you won’t be able to dream.”

“So what will you look for?”

“Anomalous neuroelectrical activity,” Stern said. “The key reason this hasn’t been done before is that the diagnostics didn’t exist. The MRI machine we used on you the other day is one of a kind. Its resolution power can distinguish individual brain cells.”

“We also have the software to make sophisticated mathematical analyses of any electrical activity,” Cates added.

“But I still don’t get how there can be any electrical activity if I’m anesthetized.”

“What the anesthetic does is to turn off intercellular activity, the long axon connections,” said Dr. Luria. “However, there may still be microelectrical activity in the channels between individual cells—what we refer to as analog communication, driven by cell-body-based properties. That’s what we’ll be looking for. And if there is any, we’ll need to analyze and explain that stimulation.”

“Such as what?”

“Such as human consciousness separating from the brain,” Luria said. “Mind transcending the body. To some that would be evidence that the afterlife is real.”

Zack was quiet for a moment as he tried to process what they were telling him. “And what would be proof of that?”

“The sixty-four-million-dollar question,” Luria said. “I suppose the ultimate test would be if someone comes back from an NDE with secrets only the dead possess.”

“However,” Stern added, “more skeptical people—me included—believe that the phenomenon is pure neurobiology—that is, the brain creating electrical-chemical reactions to impending death.”

“Religion versus science,” Zack said.

“Yes,” Dr. Stern said. “There’s evidence that the human brain is wired to encourage religious beliefs, some more than others. Skeptics claim it’s just biology. Others say God made us so wired in order to discover Him or Her.”

“Which is why your questionnaire asked if we were religious or into the occult.”

“Yes,” Luria said. “We don’t want subjects who are susceptible to paranormal phenomena because they’re prone to confabulating NDEs from something they read in a book.”

Or people who think they mind-merge while playing Texas hold ’em. And what about quoting Jesus in Jesus’s tongue while comatose?

“If I agreed,” Zack said, “how long would I be flatlined?”

“No more than three minutes.”

“Then you’ll revive me.”

“Yes, by turning off the infusion,” Sarah said. “Plus we’ll give you a small injection of norepinephrine, which instantly increases the heart rate and blood pressure.”

“What are the risks of something going wrong?”

“There are none. Zero.”

“How many others have you flatlined?”

“Many,” Luria said.

“And they all were revived,” Cates added.

“And all the same as they were before being flatlined?”

“Yes, no problems or side effects,” Luria answered.

Zack was silent for a moment as he processed it all. Then he asked, “Why me and why not my friend Damian?”

Dr. Luria’s birthmark darkened. “Well, as Morris said, some people are genetically predisposed to NDEs, which is why we did that helmet test on you. Your temporal lobe is highly sensitive to dissociative experiences. Damian’s wasn’t. In fact, most people’s aren’t.”

Dissociative experiences. Is that what happened at the blackjack table?

“May I ask how you’re funded?”

“Privately.”

But she did not elaborate. And clearly this was not research that was supported by university grants or the government.

“Any chance of me checking references—you know, talk to other test subjects?”

“We can’t do that because of confidentiality agreements,” Luria said. “But to reassure you, we have some videos of past NDE subjects in suspension and being revived.”

She turned the monitor around and clicked on a video, which lasted maybe half an hour. There were three separate subjects, two males and a female. Their faces were blurred, but Luria said they were in their twenties and thirties and all healthy. Each was lying on a gurney and speaking with Luria and others as technicians hooked up IV lines and wires to their head and chest. When they said they were ready, a technician administered something into their IVs, and almost instantly they fell into a deep sleep. In clear view of the camera were electric defibrillator paddles. The video ran for a few minutes while Luria and others watched the monitors. Then the subjects were awakened, each appearing groggy for a spell. One man seemed to relapse into suspension and was given a second injection of norepinephrine. Then, following a time jump, Dr. Luria was shown interviewing each—asking how they felt. All said normal. Then a short list of questions to assess their memories: Name the date, the current president, the state and its capital, and so forth. Luria turned off the sound while the interview continued.

“The rest involves their experiences, which we’re keeping confidential. We also don’t want to prejudice your own responses should you agree. Any questions?”

He didn’t seriously believe in the NDE stuff. His main concern was coming back from the chemical cocktail. “What’s the drug, by the way?”

“It’s called tetrodotoxin.”

That told him nothing.

“It’s a natural ingredient and perfectly safe,” Sarah said. She patted his arm. “I promise you’ll be just fine.”

“I should add that if you agree to volunteer, you’ll be paid an additional two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar signing fee—a total of five hundred dollars.”

Zack could feel lines of expectation converge on him. He glanced at the nondisclosure and waiver forms. Then his eyes returned to the computer image of the last NDE subject, frozen at the point where he said he felt perfectly fine. “You’re asking me to be sent to death’s door, so I’d like to think this over, if you don’t mind.”

Luria’s expression sagged. “Of course, but it’s perfectly safe.”

He made a move to the door. “I’m sure, but I can’t just sign my life away.”

“But you’re not,” she said, struggling not to be too insistent.

“I’ll get back to you.”

“Fine. We hope that you’ll let us know soon.” Luria went to the desk and called Bruce. When she finished, she pulled Zack aside, and in a low voice she said, “While you’re deliberating, you should know that this project is on the cusp of a great scientific discovery. Perhaps the greatest. And you can be part of it.”