The Traveler

“The general has always been involved in public service. So it was a natural transition for him to join the Evergreen Foundation.” Lawrence reached into his suit-coat pocket and took out a hand-held metal detector-the sort of thing that security guards use in airports. “For security reasons, we’d like you to leave all metal objects in the room. That includes your wristwatch, coins, and belt. It’s standard procedure at our research facility.”

If Lawrence had given him a direct order, Richardson might have refused. Instead, he had to deal with the bland assumption that taking off his wristwatch was the normal thing to do when meeting an important person. He placed his possessions on the table and then Lawrence passed the detector over the neurologist’s body. The men left the room and walked down the hallway to the elevator.

“Did you read all the materials last night?”

“Yes.”

“I hope you found them interesting.”

“It’s incredible. Why haven’t these recent studies been published? I’ve never read anything about the Travelers.”

“At this time, the Evergreen Foundation wants to keep this information secret.”

“That’s not how science works, Mr. Takawa. Major discoveries occur because scientists all over the world have access to the same data.”

They took the elevator to the basement and walked down a corridor to a white door without handles or knobs. When Lawrence waved his hand, the door glided open. He motioned Dr. Richardson forward and the scientist entered a windowless room where there was no furniture except for a wooden table and two wooden chairs.

“This is a special security room,” Lawrence explained. “Everything said here is confidential.”

“So where’s General Nash?”

“Don’t worry. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

* * *

LAWRENCE WAVED HIS right hand and the door closed, locking Richardson inside the Truth Room. For the last six years, the Evergreen Foundation had funded a secret research effort to find out when someone was lying. This wasn’t done with a voice analyzer or a polygraph machine that recorded a person’s breathing rate and blood pressure. Fear could distort the results of such tests and a good actor could suppress these secondhand signs of deceit.

Ignoring outward physical changes, the Evergreen Foundation scientists looked directly inside the brain using magnetic resonance imaging. The Truth Room was simply a large MRI chamber in which a person could talk, eat, and move about. The man or woman being questioned didn’t have to know what was going on, which allowed for a wider range of reactions.

While watching a person’s brain as he answered questions, it was possible to see how different sectors of tissue reacted to what was being said. The foundation scientists discovered that it was easier for the brain to tell the truth. When a person was lying, his left prefrontal cortex and the anterior cingulate gyrus lit up like red patches of molten lava.

***

LAWRENCE CONTINUED DOWN the corridor to another unmarked door. A lock clicked open and he entered a shadowy room. Four television monitors were set in a wall opposite a bank of computers and a long table that contained the control panel. A plump, bearded man sat at the table and typed instructions on a computer keyboard. Gregory Vincent had built and installed the equipment that was being used today.

“Did you get rid of all his metal?” Vincent asked.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you go in? Afraid that you might say something while I was watching?”

Lawrence rolled an office chair over to the control panel and sat down. “I was just following instructions.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Vincent scratched his stomach. “Nobody wants to go into the Truth Room.”

Looking up at the monitors, Lawrence saw that Richardson’s body had become a hazy image made up of different patches of light. The light changed color and intensity as Richardson breathed, swallowed, and thought about his predicament. He was a digital man who could be quantified and analyzed by the computers behind them.

“Looks good,” Vincent said. “This is going to be easy.” He glanced up at a small security monitor hanging from the ceiling. A bald man was coming down the hallway. “Perfect timing. Here comes the general.”

Lawrence created the appropriate mask. Studious. Intent. He stared at the monitors as Kennard Nash entered the Truth Room. The general was in his sixties; he had a blunt nose and straight-backed military posture. Lawrence admired the way that Nash concealed his toughness with the amiable style of a successful athletic coach.

Richardson stood up and Nash shook his hand. “Dr. Richardson! Good to meet you. I’m Kennard Nash, the executive director of the Evergreen Foundation.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, General Nash. I remember when you used to be in the government.”

“Yes. That was a real challenge, but it was time to move on. It’s been exciting to run Evergreen.”

Both men sat down at the table. In the monitoring room, Vincent typed in commands to the computer. Different images of Richardson’s brain appeared on the monitors.