Memories tweak and spark. Faces. Dreamlike pulses of light deep in his mind. Feelings. Things he hasn't thought about in years. The memories bloom, then they're gone. When Roland was ten, he broke his arm. The doctor told his mom he could have a new arm, or a cast. The cast was cheaper. He drew a shark on it. When the cast came off he got a tattoo to make the shark permanent.
"If they had just made that three-pointer."
"It'll be the Bulls again. Or the Lakers."
"Starting on the left cerebral cortex."
Another memory tweaks.
When I was six, my father went to jail for something he did before I got born. I never knew what he did, but Mom says I'm just the same.
"The Suns don't stand a chance."
"Well, if they had a decent coaching staff . . ."
"Left temporal lobe."
When I was three, I had a babysitter. She was beautiful. She shook my sister. Real hard. My sister got wrong. Never got right again. Beautiful is dangerous. Better get them first.
"Well, maybe they'll make the playoffs next year."
"Or the year after that."
"Did we get the auditory nerves?"
"Not yet. Getting them right n—"
I'm alone. And I'm crying. And no one's coming to the crib. And the nightlight burned out. And I'm mad. I'm so mad.
Left frontal lobe.
I... I ... I don't feel so good.
Left occipital lobe.
I ... I ... J don't remember where . . .
Left parietal lobe.
I ... I ... I can't remember my name, but . . . but . . .
Right temporal.
. . . but I'm still here.
Right frontal.
I'm still here . . .
Right occipital.
I'm still. . .
Right parietal.
I'm . . .
Cerebellum.