Mindbend

As Adam went back to his room to change, he realized that he’d better figure out some way of smuggling tangible evidence out of the center. But what evidence? What could he bring back to New York that not only would convince Jennifer not to have an abortion, but would cause the medical profession to put MTIC out of business?

After several hours of lying in the sun, Adam thought he had an idea. It was wild, and probably impossible to execute, but if successful, Adam knew he would have no trouble convincing anyone to take his warnings seriously.

Cocktails and dinner were an ordeal for Adam. Dr. Nachman seemed to want to introduce him to as many people as possible, and it was almost eleven before he could escape to his room after pleading fatigue.

He had decided he could not start to put his plan into effect until midnight. Too restless to lie down in the meantime, he took off his suit and dressed in a dark blue shirt and jeans, then carefully opened his shoulder bag and checked the supplies he’d organized that afternoon.

At eleven fifty-five he could stand the suspense no longer. He left his room and took the stairway to the roof.

The moonlight was again almost as bright as day. He quickly crossed the bridge to the first inner building and then walked across to look down at the second. The skylights blazed, but Adam wasn’t certain that indicated any special activity inside.

Setting his bag on the roof, Adam opened it and pulled out the rope he’d stolen that afternoon from one of the sailboats. Then he searched for an appropriate ventilation pipe. After testing to see if it were securely fastened to the roof, he tied the rope to it and dropped the free end down three floors onto the bridge to the innermost building.

Unaccustomed to climbing and terrified of heights, Adam summoned all his fortitude to climb up on the four-foot wall and lower his legs over the side. After a short prayer, Adam grasped the rope and let go of the wall. Hanging on for dear life, he inched his way down until his feet touched the roof of the bridge. He dropped to his hands and knees and scrambled to the roof of the hospital building, where he made his way over to the large central skylight. A movement below made him hold up.

Slowly, he inched to the edge and looked down. Below him was a scene straight out of a science fiction horror film.

The area under the skylight was an enormous operating room, but instead of being staffed with doctors and nurses, it was fully automated. Two patients were being worked on at once by robotlike machines with long flexible arms.

On the far side of the room several patients were lying on a conveyor-beltlike system, their heads locked into stereotaxic vises. At present, there were only four, but Adam could see that the system was designed to accommodate at least a dozen at a time.

Adam remained glued to the skylight, mesmerized by the sheer scope of the horror. One of the patients on the belt began to move forward and was fed into a large CAT scanner, which started to rotate around the patient’s head. When the rotation was complete, the machine paused while robotlike arms extended and incised the patient’s head at the same points at which Vandermer’s scars were made. A small amount of blood appeared and pooled below the patient’s head. Other arms appeared and smoothly bored into the patient’s skull.

Adam could hear the whine of the drill through the skylight.

Then the scanner began to function again, while a third set of arms extended and pushed into the patient’s brain. Adam guessed that the system was inserting the controlling electrodes into the patients’ brains using the CAT scanner to ensure proper placement.

A movement at the left of the room caught Adam’s eye and he pulled back. Behind a leaded-glass partition, a group of people were seated at a control panel. They would have had a clear view of Adam if they cared to look up. Adam lay down.

He could see in by peeking over the edge of the skylight, but was pretty sure now that he couldn’t be seen.

He saw Dr. Nachman reach out and slap Dr. Mitchell on the back. One of the patients had been completed and was being moved off in preparation for the next. Adam thought he was going to be sick. MTIC-Arolen was definitely planning psychosurgery on a massive scale.

After ducking away from the skylight, Adam climbed to his feet and crossed the roof to the access door. Luckily, it was not locked. He entered a stairwell similar to the one he had used to reach the roof of his building. Except for a steady hum of the automated machinery from the OR, everything was quiet. Moving quickly, he descended to the second floor and carefully opened the door. As he had expected, he was just beyond the conditioning room. He looked down the hall into the darkened ward. The only light came from the glass-enclosed nurses’ station on the opposite side of the ward. The nurse on duty appeared to be eating. Beyond her were two immobile orderlies sitting in straight-back chairs.