Pain. Irritation. “Real.”
“Well, that’s certainly interesting,” Doc says. He caps the fountain pen and sets in on the desk. He’s not looking at the notes he’s been taking, but directly at Mike. There’s a queer look in his eye, one that Mike’s never seen before. It’s almost hard. Calculating. It knocks him for a loop. It’s gone before he can even be sure it was there. “We’ll have to do some tests, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Strangest things can cause this.”
“Right,” and Mike’s having a hard time catching his breath.
“You might need more sleep.”
“Sure.”
“It could be a tumor growing right now on your brain.”
Mike says, “Yeah,” because he doesn’t know what else to say.
“Or it could be absolutely nothing,” Doc says, sounding obscenely cheerful. “That’s the amazing thing about the human body. How resilient it is. How much of a mystery it is. How much of a bastard it can be. Why, the brain alone is one of the most complex things in all of creation. There’s the old adage that we only use ten percent of our brain, but that’s just a myth. If that actually were the case, then damaging most of the brain should not impair function. There is almost no part of the brain that can be damaged without loss of abilities. A neuroscientist named Barry Beyerstein determined that.”
“How?”
“How?”
“How did he determine that?”
Doc grins. It isn’t the most pleasant of smiles. “Why, by trial and error, I imagine. We use all parts of our brains, but to what extent, we don’t know. There are many secrets that haven’t yet been unlocked. Tell me, do you get headaches?”
“No. Not really.” Mike can’t quite keep up with the conversation with how much his mind is reeling. “No more than anyone else.”
“Numbness or tingling in your arms or legs?”
“No. My wrist itches, but—”
“Topical cream works wonders. Do you have seizures?”
“No.”
“Balance issues?”
“No.”
“Nausea or vomiting?”
“No. Why are you—”
“Has your personality changed?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Good news,” Doc says. “I really don’t think it’s a tumor.”
The relief is so overwhelming, Mike’s hands are shaking. “That’s—”
“What do you know about schizophrenia?”
MIKE DOESN’T open the bookstore at all that day.
Instead, he sits on the sofa in his home, Martin purring on the seat beside him, and stares at the walls.