The Commandment Page 2

  “Let me guess. Her results are the same as the past twenty scans. Despite the injections she’s received every six months for the past ten years, Briar is unreceptive to the serum. Am I right? Those tiny thorn-shaped whatchamacallits, the ‘God-zones’ in the temporal lobes of her brain are still lit up like holiday trees, and no amount of SAP in the world will extinguish them. Is that about the gist of it, Mr. PA don’t-forget-the-C? Same song, same dance. Sign off on her chart, give her the injection, and we’ll return in six months.”

  “The scan did reveal Briar’s Agathi are functional, as you assumed, Mrs. Lee. However, today the situation is more complicated than it’s been in the past. Due to Briar’s age, there will be no further injections. By order of The Commandment, the day Briar turns eighteen—” With his thumb and middle finger, he enlarged the type on the virtual document. “On October sixteenth, three weeks from now, she will report to the Alternative Research Center in Fleetwood, Montana for extended treatment. ARC officials will provide transportation by private jet to the facility.” He swiped to a new document and pulled a stylus pen from his pocket. “I need for each of you to sign this acknowledgement.”

  Briar’s swallow of hot chocolate backed up her esophagus. The ARC? The Cadillac of treatment centers? He wasn’t serious. Of course not. Mom managed to aggravate him, and he was bluffing.

  Her mother shoved back from the table and stood. “Stick that acknowledgement in your Agathi, Mr. Smarter-Than-Thou. We’re not signing anything. I demand to speak with Dr. Parker, immediately!”

  “I already explained, Mrs. Lee, Dr. Parker isn’t avail—”

  “Go get me a real doctor, before I go marching up and down the hallways and find one myself,” Her mother cut in.

  A muscle twitched in the man’s jaw as he tapped his cuffphone and dropped the stylus pen and unlit cube back into his pocket. “I’ll interrupt Dr. Bingham.” He turned from the table.

  “Yes, you run along and do that.” Briar’s mother lowered into the chair and rested her forehead in her hand. She cut her gaze up to her daughter’s. “I won’t let them take you to that godforsaken place.”

  Briar reached over the table and took her mother’s hand. “It’ll be OK. Dr. Bingham will talk to Dr. Parker and get this all straightened out.”

  “Darn right it’ll get straightened out.” She slid her hand from Briar’s and pulled her purse to her lap. “Where’d I put those blasted tissues?” A tear splashed to the table as she plowed through her belongings. She finally came up with a wrinkled wad of paper.

  “Whole thing’s ridiculous. Locking you up like some wild animal,” she said, dabbing her lower lids. “The ARC—right. Over my dead body. What do they think? That because you can’t absorb SAP, you’ll suddenly start preaching like a religious zealot and contaminate everyone in society? Even if you did start spouting out Scripture—which you wouldn’t—where would be the harm in it? All the rest of us have SAP in our brains to keep us from absorbing religion. Got this nifty little chip shoved under my skin to make sure of it.” She slapped the back of her hand, indicating her fleshcard. “Everyone—everyone—is immune to Christianity except those already locked away in the ARC.”

  Briar sighed. “I’m aware, Mom, but it’s a huge rule. I’m worried about you challenging The Commandment. I’m nervous about going away, too. But I’m also a little excited. Maybe it’ll only be for a week or two. I might respond to whatever treatment the ARC offers. Adult therapy is probably more advanced. More radical. Isn’t it worth a try? Honestly Mom, I’m sick to death of the injections. They’re useless.”

  Not to mention she could actually leave home for the first time in forever. Maybe even make a friend or two in the facility. Comrades who were experiencing what she was going through. A tiny spark of excitement zipped up her spine.

  A man wearing a white lab coat and a stethoscope entered the room with the smug-looking PA-C in tow.

  “I’m Dr. Bingham.” He nodded curtly at Briar and her mother then took his turn sitting at the head of the table. “You’ve met my assistant. Do you feel your questions or concerns were not properly addressed?”

  The assistant physician set the cube on the table in front of Dr. Bingham and glanced at her mother. He cleared his throat and selected a chair to the right of Briar.

  “That’s putting it mildly. Where on Mother Nature’s green earth is Dr. Parker?”

  Dr. Bingham wove his fingers together and leaned forward on his elbows. “Dr. Parker is not at this facility anymore. He suffered a stroke four months ago, and is no longer practicing medicine. Currently, he is residing at a rehabilitation hospital on the east coast.”

  Briar heard her mother’s throat click as she swallowed. “OK. That answers one of my questions. Here’s another one—what exactly is wrong with my daughter? We’ve been told over and over again that her Agathi are functional. Big deal. I can glance at those bright red splotches on her electronic imaging printout and tell you that. My question is why are they working? Never once has anyone on staff—including Dr. Parker—been able to give us the reason.”

  Briar slowly stirred what was left of her now cold hot chocolate. She knew the reason. Her Agathi continued to thrive because her grandmother had prayed that the serum wouldn’t work. For the first seven years of Briar’s life, her grandmother had taught her about God. Right up until the night Granna Grace had died peacefully in her sleep—three days before the loving woman was to receive her SAP injection by order of The Commandment.

  Granna Grace had prayed for that, too.

  Since Briar’s brain was unfazed by SAP, the memories of her grandmother’s biblical teachings were alive and well, tucked snugly away in her temporal lobes between what Dr. Parker referred to as her “hippocampus” and her “substantia nigra.” In that tiny sliver of brain the OLG was so obsessed with.

  Not only were her memories of Christianity still there, they became increasingly vivid as she aged. Many times, in childhood, she’d heard her grandmother pray aloud for God to use her to bring about change. She’d heard Granna Grace ask God to protect her grandchild as Briar carried out His will.

  No doubt about it, Briar’s serum-resistant Agathi were all Granna Grace’s fault.

  And God’s.

  2

  Using the cube and his cuffphone, Dr. Bingham retrieved Briar’s medical file. “Mrs. Lee, I don’t truthfully know what is causing Briar’s resistance to the serum. Neither did Dr. Parker. But the reality of the situation is that we have run out of options. By order of The Commandment, the next step in Briar’s treatment is admittance to the ARC. She will remain there until leveling is completed and adequate changes are achieved within her brain. SAP acceptance and renewal of the mind is not only the OLG’s goal for your daughter, it’s the law.”

  “So, I’ve heard. Doctor Wanna-be over there told me the same thing.” She jerked a thumb toward the PA-C who inhaled slowly through flared nostrils.

  “Dr. Bingham, does that chart floating in front of your face tell you who Briar’s daddy was? My late husband was a chief researcher in the field of leveling. His name was Windsor Lee—that should ring a bell. His research is the very foundation leveling was built on. Before Windsor Lee, there was no Operation Level Ground. You presume to tell me that you would dishonor my husband’s countless hours of research—not to mention his memory—by imprisoning his only child at that abomination you call the ARC?”

  “Mrs. Lee, I’m well aware of who your husband was. Indeed, he was a brilliant man, renowned not only for his leveling research, but his contributions in many other areas as well. The OLG holds Windsor Lee in the highest regards. His work is universally respected and appreciated.”

  “It should be. It’s what killed him.”

  Briar’s heart froze. The image of her father’s lifeless body flashed behind her eyes. Nine months ago, he’d ended his life by swallowing an entire bottle of painkillers. He hadn’t even left a note, only the words “I’m sorry” scrawled on the bathroom mirror wit
h a bar of soap.

  She was glad Granna Grace hadn’t been around to witness what happened to her only child—the son she’d tried so hard to teach of Christ’s love, mercy, and grace. Briar’s father hadn’t been interested in the Spirit of God. Study of the human brain required all his time and energy—and there was never enough of either.

  Briar’s mother dabbed the frayed tissue beneath her eyes again. “My husband and Dr. Parker had an agreement. My daughter will not go to the ARC. Not as long as I have breath in my lungs.” She leaned slightly forward. “I’m aware of what goes on in that place, Doctor,” she said in a determined whisper. “If you go through with this nonsense, everybody else will be aware too. I have documentation, and plenty of it. Restricted reports, videotaped patient and staff interviews, hidden camera footage, audio recordings. And before you get some wild hair about burning down my house to destroy the evidence, I’ll have you know it’s everywhere—cyberspace, bank vaults, locked in the wall safes of friends and relatives. You’re right about my husband being a brilliant man, Doctor. He covered every base to ensure what you are attempting to do would never happen. No daughter of Windsor Lee will ever set foot in the ARC.” She balled the tissue in her fist. “Or you’ll regret it.”

  Briar stared at her mother. Had the woman gone crazy? Hidden camera footage, secret documents? It was the ARC they were discussing, not Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory. Her mother was behaving as if Briar was being carted away to an asylum that conducted illegal science experiments, not the health spa meets affirmative-healing facility Briar saw advertised. She watched all the commercials—mini documentaries of cured patients happily reuniting with family members upon release. As far as treatment centers went, the ARC was practically the Asklepieion.

  Dr. Bingham frowned down at the table and repeatedly tapped his stylus against the surface, as if his mind were somewhere else. Finally, before the silence became unbearable, he spoke. “Mrs. Lee, Briar, excuse me for a few moments.” He rose and motioned for the PA to go with him.

  “Mom. What’s with all the ARC bashing? Secret video footage? You make it sound like a chamber of horrors. I’ve never heard anything like that about the ARC before.”

  “That’s because it was top secret. Now that your father’s gone, there’s no point in keeping it hushed up. That place is right out of a science fiction novel. The quacks the OLG put in charge aren’t treating patients, they’re slicing and dicing their brains. People go in but never come out, Briar.”

  Maybe her mother needed to be admitted into the hospital. It seemed she’d suffered a stroke. “Mom, you’re talking crazy. It’s a treatment center, not a black hole. People get better and they leave. Haven’t you watched the warm and fuzzy commercials?”

  Her mother shook her head. “Staged. Every last one of them. Frankly, I don’t care if you believe me or not, because you’re never going there. Ever. Your father died and left me with nothing. Not even a life insurance payment because his death was a suicide. His reputation and influence are all that remain, and I will use them as weapons to fight the OLG. I’ll not lose you, too.”

  Dr. Bingham tapped on the door while opening it, and then shut and locked it behind him.

  “Did you lose Dr. Play-Pretend?” Briar’s mother tossed her gaze skyward.

  “We need to speak privately.” He dragged his previous chair closer to her mother’s and sat down. “Mrs. Lee, I have a solution that could prevent Briar’s admittance to the ARC. But first, I need the word of you and your daughter that the information I am about to divulge will remain strictly confidential.”

  “Agreed.” Mrs. Lee nodded along with Briar.

  He took turns studying their eyes for a moment. “A colleague of mine, Dr. Frank Rosen, is the chief of program development for Operation Level Ground. Dr. Rosen has a special interest in Stone Labs, a Nevada laboratory that is developing an abstergent to eradicate the use of SAP. To be complete, the research needs only to be tested on a human subject.”

  His speech quickened. He paused and cleared his throat as if to keep his enthusiasm in check. “A few moments ago, I spoke with Dr. Rosen and told him the details of Briar’s situation,” he said in a lowered voice. “I mentioned her father was the reputable Windsor Lee, and asked if that could work to her advantage. He became very excited at the prospect of Briar becoming Stone Labs’ subject.”

  “Hold it. Are you suggesting I send my daughter into exile over a thousand miles away to become a human guinea pig? That’s your solution? No thank you, Doctor.”

  “Stone’s Abstergent is organic, Mrs. Lee. Comprised from the nectar of an indigenous cactus plant. Unlike SAP, it doesn’t travel through the bloodstream. The serum is injected directly into each Agathus, meaning exposure to the heart and other vital organs is nonexistent. Instead of merely numbing the Agathi in the manner SAP does, this new serum dissolves the areas away completely. It will be as if Briar’s Agathi never existed.”

  “This is the first I’ve heard of it. I’m sure my husband would’ve mentioned such a thing. He never was good about keeping secrets from me.”

  As if her Agathi never existed? Excitement welled inside Briar. There was a good chance, an extremely good chance, that she would be able to interact with real live people—other than her own mother and the clinic faculty?

  “Your husband realized the importance of keeping the research under wraps” The doctor said. “The development of this new product will not only eliminate the demand for SAP, it will eliminate the need for the Alternative Research Center. The ARC will lose millions of dollars in government funding, thousands of jobs, and ultimately collapse. For that reason, Dr. Rosen will not disclose his department’s involvement in the project until after the research is complete.”

  “No.” Her mother exhibited a series of rapid blinks and headshakes, as if to prevent the doctor’s proposal from settling in her brain. “Absolutely not. I don’t know anything about this so-called lab. Place could be worse than the ARC. You can forget all about that idea.”

  “I want to go.” Briar’s voice overtook her mother’s and reverberated from the walls. The words leapt from her tongue—her voice hadn’t even shaken.

  Briar’s mother stopped twitching and stared. “Nonsense. This isn’t up to you. Now wipe that grin off your face, you appear disturbed.”

  Briar turned to Dr. Bingham. “How long will I be there?”

  “Upon your mother’s consent, your virtual chart will be sent to Dr. Rosen, who will forward it to Stone Labs. Your scans and blood sample information will be analyzed. If there are no hindrances, you will receive the injection and be under observation for a week or so. You could possibly be home before your eighteenth birthday.”

  “Get that, Mom? Home by my birthday—three weeks from now.”

  “I heard. Assuming everything goes right. But what if something goes wrong?”

  “Mrs. Lee, I assure you, there’s nothing to worry about. The OLG will fly in one of the country’s top neurosurgeons to perform the procedure—Dr. Randall Fuller from Baltimore, Maryland. The abstergent’s immediate dissolving of Briar’s Agathi will eliminate the risk of recollection. Her God-zones will no longer exist—she can’t recollect what isn’t there. The entire process is foolproof.”

  “Doctor, I’ve been around much too long to buy into the ‘nothing can possibly go wrong,’ spiel. Something can always go wrong. What will happen to my daughter if things don’t turn out as anticipated?”

  Dr. Bingham sighed. “The OLG can’t afford to rouse suspicion concerning the project. If by some slim chance Briar’s brain doesn’t react as expected, she will be transported to the ARC by OLG officials. Otherwise, she will be deemed a defector for failing to appear.”

  Mom shoved back from the table and stood, yanking her purse strap over her shoulder. “Come on, Briar.”

  “Mrs. Lee, please understand. I’m opposed to the ARC as much as you. By allowing your daughter this opportunity, you will directly contribute to closing its doors forev
er.”

  “Mom. Listen. I want to do this. Let me get it over with so I can be back home for my birthday. We will actually be able to go out and celebrate over dinner—at a restaurant. I’ve waited forever to do that. But I still want your homemade vanilla cake with chocolate frosting.”

  The ice in her mother’s blue eyes melted as she held Briar’s gaze. “I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

  “Let me do this, Mom. I’m a big girl. Trust me to make this decision.” Briar stood and wrapped her arms around her. “Besides, it’s not like we have options.”

  “You just get yourself back here by your birthday.”

  Briar nodded against her mother’s stiff hairdo. “I promise.”

  Dr. Bingham deactivated the cube and stood. “I have a few forms for you both to fill out, and Briar will be on her way.”

  “On her way?” Mrs. Lee asked sharply, breaking Briar’s embrace. “As in today?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “As in immediately. The sooner the lab can begin the study, the better. Time is crucial. The abstergent has a very short shelf life.”

  “But how will she get there?”

  “Private jet. As soon as I call Dr. Rosen, he will remotely reconfigure Briar’s ankle bracelet to allow her to travel. She will be assigned two escorts who have recently received SAP boosters.”

  “So that I can’t contaminate them with my gospel-soaked Agathi.” Briar rolled her eyes.

  “Pretty much.” Dr. Bingham half-grinned. “You will have minimal exchange with the escorts, and will not be allowed to read or browse the Internet. You will be required to turn over your cell. In fact, let me have it now.” He held out his hand as Briar’s mother once again deep-sea dived the depths of her purse. “Thank you,” he said, flattening Briar’s cuffphone and sliding it into the pocket of his lab coat.