Tunnel Vision

35

Zack tried to suppress his anxiety as Bruce drove him to the lab the next Tuesday night. He tried to lose himself in the Vivaldi CD, thinking about those people who had been flatlined and crowed about spiritual transports of loving light and tranquillity.

When he arrived, the core team met him, and Sarah gave him a warm hug, wishing him a belated happy birthday. Yesterday he had turned twenty-five. That made him feel better. He signed the various waivers and nondisclosure forms. They then led him into the MRI room, where he changed into pajama bottoms and lay on the gurney. They connected him up to an IV and several electronic monitoring devices. Along one wall was a viewing window, behind which were the computer workstations where scans of his brain would be projected.

Sarah positioned a videocamera on a tripod. “Once again, we’re going to record the whole procedure and catch any movements.”

“Like breaking into the ‘Hallelujah’ chorus.”

She laughed. “That would be something.” She then put a mask across his brow, ready to be lowered. He felt a nervous flare in his chest.

When they finished, Dr. Luria came over. She was beaming with expectation. “Ready?”

“I think so.”

“How do you feel?” Sarah asked.

He looked up at the faces, the lights, IV stand, tubes connected to him, thinking that he was a syringe away from near death. “Nervous.”

She patted his arm. “Of course, but you’ll be perfectly safe. You’re just going to sleep.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“I’ll be monitoring every second you’re under. Then in an hour we’ll bring you back.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And everyone came back?”

“Absolutely.”

“And whole?”

“And whole and healthy.” She patted his arm again. “All set?”

“Want to come with me? I may be going to paradise.”

She laughed. “Love to, but I don’t have your brain.”

She lowered the mask and fitted the earplugs and muffler, cutting off the outside world. The gurney moved headfirst into the tube and he felt a twinge of claustrophobia. “How long will it take to fall asleep?” If anyone responded, he never heard. His brain went instantly black.

* * *

“Hey, Zack, you’re waking up.”

A female voice.

“Zack, can you hear me?”

He grunted. Shards of sleep were falling away as awareness gradually returned.

“He’s coming to.”

A male voice.

“Come on, Zack, wake up.”

He forced open one eye.

“That’s it, Zack, open your eyes.”

Then the other.

“Welcome back. How do you feel?” asked a pretty woman with short hair.

He licked his lips.

“If your mouth and tongue feel tingly, that’s normal. Can you tell me your name?”

He looked at her dumbly without response.

“Okay, you’re still a little foggy.”

“Can you tell us your name?” an older woman asked.

He shook his head.

“No? Sure you can. It’s Zack. What’s your last name?”

He hesitated a moment. Then he muttered, “Kashian.”

“What was that?”

“Kashian.”

“Right. Good. And do you know where you are?”

“Magog Woods?”

“Where?”

“Magog Woods.”

“His voice sounds different,” someone said.

“Where’s Magog Woods?”

“Where I live.”

“And where’s that?”

“Maine.”

“Maine? No, you’re in Massachusetts. You remember.”

Zack shook his head.

“Yes, you’re in Massachusetts, not Maine. And you live in Boston.”

He looked around dumbly. Then his mind slowly began to clear, and the trees faded and it became bright, and he saw people standing around him in a large white room with all the electronic equipment and tubes and wires attached to his head and arms.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Mmm. Guess I was dreaming. Sleep test.”

“Good. Can you tell me your name?”

“Zack Kashian.”

“Great. And the date?”

He thought a moment, then it came back to him.

“Very good. And what state are we in?”

“Massachusetts.”

“That’s better. And the capital?”

“Boston.”

“Do you remember my name?” asked a younger pretty woman.

He felt himself return to the moment. Sarah Wyman, the neuroscientist with the pretty face and short hair. “Joan of Arc.”

“Joan of Arc?”

“Look like her. Paul Delaroche, painter.”

“Wow. You know your art.”

“French history.” He spoke haltingly, trying to clear his brain. His mouth felt dry.

“Where?”

She was still testing him. “Northeastern.”

“I think he’s fine. Zack, it’s me, Dr. Luria.” She sat beside him with a clipboard, a videocamera trained on him. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about your experience. Do you remember anything while under—people, locale, activity of any kind?”

“No, nothing. Just a blank.”

“No sense of where you were? Who you were with, if anyone?”

Zack shook his head.

“Any residual feelings or emotions?”

“Just a blank.”

“Any sense of your own physical self?”

“No.”

Dr. Luria asked a few more questions, then gave up, looking disappointed that he could recall nothing. They helped him to the screen, where he changed into his clothes.

“How about a coffee to help you wake up?” Sarah asked.

“Something cold. My mouth’s dry,” he said through the screen.

“We have some Poland Spring in the fridge.”

He pulled up his pants and tucked in his shirt. “Got anything else?”

“Such as what?”

“Root beer?”

“Root beer?”

He slipped on his shoes, then stepped out from behind the screen. They were all staring at him. “You said root beer?” Sarah looked frozen in place.

“If you have any.”

“Any particular brand?” Dr. Luria asked.

Did they stock a whole variety in their fridge? “I don’t know … A and W.”

“Is A and W root beer something you usually drink?”

“No. Any brand’ll be fine. What’s the problem?”

Luria approached him. “Zack, please bear with me. When was the last time you drank an A and W root beer?”

Zack’s head still felt buzzed, as if insects festered in his skull. “Huh?”

“Please, just answer the question. When was the last time you had an A and W root beer?”

“I don’t know,” Zack began. “I can’t remember the last time. Maybe when I was a kid … fifteen years ago, if ever. Why? What’s this all about?”

“Do you live near any stores, billboards, fast-food places, with A and W signs visible?”

“No.”

“Can you recall anyone in the recent past mentioning A and W or ordering one anywhere?”

“No.”

Luria turned the laptop toward him. “Is the A and W logo an image that’s familiar to you?”

“I think so, but I can’t tell you what it looks like.”

“But you probably recognize it, right?”

“I suppose.”

“But it’s not fresh in your head.”

“No.” The dark expectancy in Luria’s eyes set off a small charge in him. “What’s this all about?”

Luria nodded to Sarah. But instead of leaving for the drink, she produced a stepladder and moved it to a tall cabinet against the wall. She climbed up and removed a laptop flattened open on the top. When she got down, she turned the screen toward him, and on it was a shot of a frothy mug of A&W root beer.

“I don’t get it,” he said.

They were still staring at him. Then Dr. Luria said, “I think, my friend, you had an out-of-the-body experience.”