Second Sight by George D Shuman Page B

“Just leaving.”
    She pulled the towel from her shoulders and tossed it on the grass and sat at the table as the servant poured coffee.
    Troy bowed courteously and left.

5
    Attached to Sherry’s head were a profusion of colorful electrodes, each connected to tubes that snaked their way into somber-looking machines. The gurney was stainless steel and felt cold through her flimsy gown. She had the sense she was in a station, about to depart on some futuristic trip. A trip she would be taking alone.
    She remembered their last afternoon together. They had made love for an hour and then sat in the sunroom, taking in the last rays of the day. Brian had told her he was sorry that he wouldn’t be around for her tests, that he couldn’t postpone his deployment. Sherry had said she understood. That she knew it could be weeks before she heard from him again. What she didn’t say was what she feared most. That the tests would find something and that she wouldn’t be the same person when he returned.
    Sherry grieved now that he was gone, but the time apart would do them both good. She couldn’t risk becoming a burden on him. He would be hurt now, but in the end, she knew, it was what was best for him.
     
    The light flashes from the migraines had been getting worse, not better. She was also beginning to see colors, bright purples, reds, and orange. Ophthalmic migraines were common, Dr. Salix told her, and many people reported shapes and colors similar to what she was seeing. It was caused by blood vessel spasms behind the eye. People who suffered cortical or cerebral blindness, as Sherry did, might still be candidates for migraines, because it was whole-brain injury, not just damage to the occipital lobes, that prevented her from seeing. In other words, it takes all components of the brain to see, and whole-brain changes that might have altered the order of delicate nerve systems might also permit vision behind the cornea.
    Sherry was convinced she was reacting to the radiation she’d absorbed. The only question for her right now was whether or not she was the same person she had been before New Mexico. What effect did this radiation have on an EEG of her brain and thus her ability to read memories of the dead?
    “We want to perform some tests before we get started,” Dr. Salix said, looking down at her.
    Getting started meant bringing in the cadavers.
    “You remember the strobe? You’ve done this before. We’re going to move the machine over you and see how your brain perceives the light.”
    Sherry nodded.
    “If you sense something, if you feel anything—pain, nausea—I want you to signal me by raising a hand. Otherwise, lie still and I’ll let you know when we’re done. Are you ready?”
    She nodded and wheels squeaked as a machine was rolled into place.
    Something snapped in the hollow-sounding room—a switch, she thought. She felt a vibration and then it was as if there was pressure against her eyes, but she saw no light.
    She heard a metallic noise behind her; someone was moving to her left.
    “It’s on?” she asked, but was quickly countered with a shhhhh.
    “Just your hand, Sherry. Look, don’t listen.”
    She wanted so badly to see something, a glimmer of light, anything. She needed an answer for what was happening to her. And if she couldn’t give them an explanation by seeing lights, she just wanted to return to the state she had been in all these years. Blind.
    The switch snapped off and the machine was wheeled away.
    She could feel warm tears streaking down the sides of her cheeks. “I didn’t see anything.”
    Someone laid a hand on her shoulder. “Which is not important,” Salix said. “We’re bringing in the first of the bodies now. Once we get her alongside you, I’ll need your right hand. Are you doing okay?”
    Sherry nodded.
    Someone dabbed her cheeks until they were dry.
    This part was familiar. More than two decades familiar. Her very first experience with a corpse had been as a