The Cerebral Alternative for Life Management has found a possible cure for mental illness turmoil. Still, the patient must be attached to a trained representative of C.A.L.M. through a cerebral interface to reap the scientific benefits. The representative finds that the path to helping others is a two-way street.
C.A.L.M.
Connections
By Lloyd A. Green
Paul’s mission on the sunny August day was the same as it had been every Saturday morning. The twenty-three-year-old mentally disabled man was learning to purchase an item at the neighborhood store with as little assistance as possible. By his side was Russell, whose responsibility as a caregiver was to direct Paul in his task and help calm any sudden mood swings. When explained to any outside observer, the entire process sounded routine and boringly simple.
What remained unnoticed was that the pair were connected mentally to one another by a hidden scientific innovation, which raised their simple outing to an entirely different level.
As they entered the corner store’s florist section, Russell could quickly tell by the startled look on Paul’s face that the pungent fragrance of the nearby lilacs had affected Paul. In addition to irritating his nostrils, the odor tripped a synaptic path in Paul’s mind, causing confusion and disorientation.
Via both men’s unseen intracranial implants, Russell could feel Paul’s impulse control fluctuating and dangerously rising. The trained caregiver shrugged off his fear and quickly closed his eyes. He then took a deep breath and made the necessary mental adjustments to counteract his charge’s contrary impulses. Paul turned his head and smiled at his aide. Russell had averted a significant problem, and Paul was seemingly unaware.
Russell felt butterflies in his stomach as he remembered a previous circumstance when a similar situation occurred before the implants. At that time, Paul had become impatient and didn’t want to wait in line to buy a new radio. This impatience caused him extreme anxiety. Paul’s anger took the form of physical aggression towards others and the destruction of store property. As Paul furiously knocked items off the shelves, his conflict caused the frightened patrons to flee, and the store temporarily closed. The frantic store clerk had no choice but to summon the police.
Upon their arrival, four officers restrained Paul, and the plan was to escort him to the nearest psychiatric hospital. As the troubled group was about to exit the store, one of the officers received a severe laceration to his upper arm area as Paul’s teeth ripped through the rough material. Warm, crimson liquid saturated the policeman’s torn uniform, and the excess spilled onto the tile floor, causing a slip hazard, making the officer’s work all the more difficult. After the police safely escorted Paul to the psych center, the wounded officer required twenty-seven stitches to close the jagged wound, not to mention the vaccines and antibiotics needed to circumvent potential diseases. When it was time to point the finger of blame, Paul was not responsible for his actions because of his historical dual diagnosis of severe intellectual impairment and schizophrenia.
What remained unnoticed was that the pair were connected mentally to one another by a hidden scientific innovation, which raised their simple outing to an entirely different level.
As they entered the corner store’s florist section, Russell could quickly tell by the startled look on Paul’s face that the pungent fragrance of the nearby lilacs had affected Paul. In addition to irritating his nostrils, the odor tripped a synaptic path in Paul’s mind, causing confusion and disorientation.
Via both men’s unseen intracranial implants, Russell could feel Paul’s impulse control fluctuating and dangerously rising. The trained caregiver shrugged off his fear and quickly closed his eyes. He then took a deep breath and made the necessary mental adjustments to counteract his charge’s contrary impulses. Paul turned his head and smiled at his aide. Russell had averted a significant problem, and Paul was seemingly unaware.
Russell felt butterflies in his stomach as he remembered a previous circumstance when a similar situation occurred before the implants. At that time, Paul had become impatient and didn’t want to wait in line to buy a new radio. This impatience caused him extreme anxiety. Paul’s anger took the form of physical aggression towards others and the destruction of store property. As Paul furiously knocked items off the shelves, his conflict caused the frightened patrons to flee, and the store temporarily closed. The frantic store clerk had no choice but to summon the police.
Upon their arrival, four officers restrained Paul, and the plan was to escort him to the nearest psychiatric hospital. As the troubled group was about to exit the store, one of the officers received a severe laceration to his upper arm area as Paul’s teeth ripped through the rough material. Warm, crimson liquid saturated the policeman’s torn uniform, and the excess spilled onto the tile floor, causing a slip hazard, making the officer’s work all the more difficult. After the police safely escorted Paul to the psych center, the wounded officer required twenty-seven stitches to close the jagged wound, not to mention the vaccines and antibiotics needed to circumvent potential diseases. When it was time to point the finger of blame, Paul was not responsible for his actions because of his historical dual diagnosis of severe intellectual impairment and schizophrenia.
But, that was not the case today because Russell had stopped the potential emergency.
Russell was suddenly aware of strong fingers gripping his shoulder. His head swayed back and forth on his neck as Paul gently shook him.
“See, Russell. I got the doughnuts all by myself.”
Paul’s six-foot five-inch stature made Russell think twice about removing the hand too quickly. Paul would have made a great offensive lineman on Russell’s old college football team but here on the street; he only seemed intimidating. The heavy brows over his soft brown eyes sat atop his round, unshaven face. Most times, Paul had refused the shave offered to him, which made him look as if he couldn’t decide whether or not he should grow a beard.
“Yes, you did, Paul, and you should feel proud of yourself,” finally responding to Paul’s compliment of his purchase. After speaking, Russell patted the hand on his shoulder, glanced upward into the cheery face, and returned the smile. Instantly, the broad grin staring back at Russell reminded him of Paul’s photograph attached to his file. He could be such a sweet guy when he wanted to, Russell thought to himself.
For the second time during his shift, Paul allowed his focus to wander when he knew he should be concentrating on his job.
Russell’s mind flashed on their encounter a few years ago when Paul first arrived at the institute. During that time, Paul’s sixty-year-old parents sat on either side of their son on the dayroom couch as the afternoon light reached through the nearby window blinds. The vertical strips of light gave the odd appearance of prison bars enclosing the trio. The placement interviews, meetings with doctors, and extensive paperwork were at an end. The only remaining tasks were a quick overview from Paul’s new caregiver and his parents saying goodbye.
As he shuffled through Paul’s file, Russell could feel the eyes of the couple rigidly fixed on him. They would not turn their heads toward their son, who sat between them. His parents were Paul’s primary ‘caregivers’ for nearly three decades and were the first line of defense for his mood swings and behavioral conflicts. Russell was surprised that they had been able to deal with the continual disruptions to their lives for as long as they had. The then twenty-eight-year-old Paul must have given his parents quite a ride.
“Everything looks like it’s in order,” Russell said as he closed the folder filled with already signed consents. It was impossible not to notice the numerous incident reports that weighed down the file.
“Good enough, then,” Paul’s father blurted out as he began to raise. His wife took his cue and quickly rose also. “We’ll see you next week Paul.”
Without waiting for Paul’s response, the couple walked away from the barred light and quickly made their way to the nearest exit door. Paul sat quietly with large hands in his lap, and his fingers entwined. Russell posed a few questions which, went unanswered as Paul quietly stared at the floor. When the silence of the dayroom got to be too much for him, Russell asked Paul if he’d like to go to his room. Paul responded with a minor nod, but the expressionless stare continued as Russell escorted him out of the dayroom.
That meeting was three years ago. Paul’s parents had never returned for their promised visit, nor had they attempted to contact the facility. And one year later, when his parents placed Paul in the C.A.L.M. program, they agreed through email. The parents never again appeared at the institute. Russell took for granted that their absence must have affected Paul, even though there had never been a charted reference to him ever mentioning them since that day.
“Flowers smell pretty,” Paul said softly to Russell, waking him from his daydreams. The pair had left the pastry shop behind, crossed the street, and were seated on the nearest bench to the park entrance. A variety of bushes and greenery lined the walkways close by.
What the giant of a man said was true, Russell thought to himself. The surrounding flowers did look and smell good. Paul had made his purchase with no problems.
Russell shook his head and was a bit bothered that he couldn’t remember the entire trek from the store to the park. His memory was always so acutely accurate. He decided to let it go and instead listened to Paul as he continued to go on about the flowers, birds, and other animals.
The two men relaxed for the remainder of the afternoon as passerby’s appeared to take little notice of them.
Russell was suddenly aware of strong fingers gripping his shoulder. His head swayed back and forth on his neck as Paul gently shook him.
“See, Russell. I got the doughnuts all by myself.”
Paul’s six-foot five-inch stature made Russell think twice about removing the hand too quickly. Paul would have made a great offensive lineman on Russell’s old college football team but here on the street; he only seemed intimidating. The heavy brows over his soft brown eyes sat atop his round, unshaven face. Most times, Paul had refused the shave offered to him, which made him look as if he couldn’t decide whether or not he should grow a beard.
“Yes, you did, Paul, and you should feel proud of yourself,” finally responding to Paul’s compliment of his purchase. After speaking, Russell patted the hand on his shoulder, glanced upward into the cheery face, and returned the smile. Instantly, the broad grin staring back at Russell reminded him of Paul’s photograph attached to his file. He could be such a sweet guy when he wanted to, Russell thought to himself.
For the second time during his shift, Paul allowed his focus to wander when he knew he should be concentrating on his job.
Russell’s mind flashed on their encounter a few years ago when Paul first arrived at the institute. During that time, Paul’s sixty-year-old parents sat on either side of their son on the dayroom couch as the afternoon light reached through the nearby window blinds. The vertical strips of light gave the odd appearance of prison bars enclosing the trio. The placement interviews, meetings with doctors, and extensive paperwork were at an end. The only remaining tasks were a quick overview from Paul’s new caregiver and his parents saying goodbye.
As he shuffled through Paul’s file, Russell could feel the eyes of the couple rigidly fixed on him. They would not turn their heads toward their son, who sat between them. His parents were Paul’s primary ‘caregivers’ for nearly three decades and were the first line of defense for his mood swings and behavioral conflicts. Russell was surprised that they had been able to deal with the continual disruptions to their lives for as long as they had. The then twenty-eight-year-old Paul must have given his parents quite a ride.
“Everything looks like it’s in order,” Russell said as he closed the folder filled with already signed consents. It was impossible not to notice the numerous incident reports that weighed down the file.
“Good enough, then,” Paul’s father blurted out as he began to raise. His wife took his cue and quickly rose also. “We’ll see you next week Paul.”
Without waiting for Paul’s response, the couple walked away from the barred light and quickly made their way to the nearest exit door. Paul sat quietly with large hands in his lap, and his fingers entwined. Russell posed a few questions which, went unanswered as Paul quietly stared at the floor. When the silence of the dayroom got to be too much for him, Russell asked Paul if he’d like to go to his room. Paul responded with a minor nod, but the expressionless stare continued as Russell escorted him out of the dayroom.
That meeting was three years ago. Paul’s parents had never returned for their promised visit, nor had they attempted to contact the facility. And one year later, when his parents placed Paul in the C.A.L.M. program, they agreed through email. The parents never again appeared at the institute. Russell took for granted that their absence must have affected Paul, even though there had never been a charted reference to him ever mentioning them since that day.
“Flowers smell pretty,” Paul said softly to Russell, waking him from his daydreams. The pair had left the pastry shop behind, crossed the street, and were seated on the nearest bench to the park entrance. A variety of bushes and greenery lined the walkways close by.
What the giant of a man said was true, Russell thought to himself. The surrounding flowers did look and smell good. Paul had made his purchase with no problems.
Russell shook his head and was a bit bothered that he couldn’t remember the entire trek from the store to the park. His memory was always so acutely accurate. He decided to let it go and instead listened to Paul as he continued to go on about the flowers, birds, and other animals.
The two men relaxed for the remainder of the afternoon as passerby’s appeared to take little notice of them.
#
Russell sat in the dimly lit, stadium-sized auditorium with its theater-type seating. He was trying his best not to drift off as his eyes grew heavy. He wished there was another way to input the required yearly review of information besides listening to the stage teacher pontificate down there on the platform for the next hour.
“The experiment first began in secluded facilities in the countryside,” the speaker said as he made his way back to the podium. “Back then, most people frowned at the intricacies involved in performing the feat that we now see as miraculous.
“After many decades of conflict, it was understood by the general public that a percentage of those who were mentally disabled, usually with an additional psychiatric diagnosis, would never be able to live peaceably in the community. Locked facilities would forever be their norm. Isolation from the community, and the simple interactions we take for granted, would never be experienced by these individuals.”
Russell glanced at the holograms displayed on the platform next to the speaker of the now-closed institutions. The scene quickly zoomed in to a particular barred picture window, and then the inside of the facility was visible. Scenes of life within the institution played out next to the podium. The stage teacher turned away from the re-creation, faced his audience, and droned on.
“After the intense regimens of psychotropic medications and endless behavioral programs were deemed useless, the goal of community living for these individuals seemed hopelessly out of reach. Regardless, the families and advocates cried out for a way to bring about a peaceful and healthier way of life for their loved ones.
“The time finally arrived when men of science turned to a solution that could directly influence the brain through mechanical means rather than medication. Filled with fear and trepidation, a few families eventually gave consent for what seemed like one last chance to fulfill their hopes.”
Russell felt disgusted with what he saw. The producers explicitly edited the holograms only to show the positive sides of the experiments. Displaying the reality was deemed to be in bad taste. Russell shook his head slightly and continued to listen.
“After some trial and error, a group of medical professionals witnessed the perfection of a wired connection at a 100 percent success rate,” the speaker stated somewhat enthusiastically. “The participating families marveled, but the caregivers and the users connected with wires and terminals came no closer to supporting the goal of normalization. It was not until those obtuse connections gave way to two people remotely dealing with each other that approval for the breakthrough came from all sides. After a few years of success, certain factions of the mental health community began to promote the use of interfaces for those with emotional and intellectual disturbances. The voices of oppositional backlash quieted. It was at that time, the Cerebral Alternative for Life Management or C.A.L.M. truly began. Soon, ample approval and funding rolled in for this and many other related programs.”
It was at this point in the lecture that Russell tuned out the speaker. No matter how noble the cause, business types would always follow economic opportunities. The low pay grade of the level 2 caregivers rose a bit because, without this incentive, the project could not exist. It only made sense that those working closest to the population would direct the needed actions. Russell and similar employees, who were known as caregivers, were highly praised. This new science was the turning point. C.A.L.M. announced its applications as appropriate management for many psychiatric conditions. Regardless of his glorified title and increased income, Russell understood the truth. As always, others made the big bucks while the success stories continued.
Suddenly, thoughts of his wife and her disappointment floated through his mind. Images of Kathy’s tears, immediate money problems, and a mild headache helped Russell find his way back from near slumber. He could hear the speaker finishing up. Russell’s egotistical side felt like moving towards the front of the hall and completing the lecture himself. After years of training and hands-on participation in the program, he quickly and quietly recited the summation in unison with the speaker.
“Two weeks of psychiatric evaluations and two months of rigorous training are required before placing a trainee in a position as a caregiver. Baring one’s soul is what we stage teachers call it. Exploration of the trainee’s weak and strong points is a requirement. Client exposure to anyone who might intentionally harm is forbidden.”
Ethics and morals were all well and good, but Russell knew all this was insignificant compared to the final surgery necessary to make the process work. The techs had said that the intrusion to the brain would be minor, but regardless of the flowery medical terms used, brain surgery was still brain surgery. After the doctors placed internal connectors just under Russell’s skull, it took weeks before his migraine-like headaches finally subsided. Lately, some of those headaches had returned. Most times, the pain meds helped.
Hundreds of caregivers and caregiver trainees were noisily moving towards the exits. As Russell reached to collect his jacket from under his seat, he suddenly heard a familiar voice.
“No one can account for the dark places of Russell’s mind,” she said.
When he glanced up, he caught sight of a soft swell of supple cleavage wrapped in a yielding pink sweater as the owner bent slightly in front of him. Surrounding all this was the white lab coat worn by one of the prettier techs.
“Are you purposely trying to be cryptic, Sue?” Russell asked. He moved his stare upward to the gentle smile he’d happily been becoming more familiar with over the past week.
“Mind if I sit down?” Sue asked without answering his question.
He motioned to the now-empty chair as Sue sat in the seat next to his. As he considered the swiftness with which she sat down, it was easy to see how serious she probably was about to be.
“I’ve been monitoring some of your interactions with Paul, and I’m a bit concerned,” she stated.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Paul and I haven’t had any issues for months now.”
“That’s my point,” Sue replied. “It’s only natural to have issues. We cannot always be in control.”
No chance of asking her out for lunch since she reprimanded him, Russell thought to himself. He wondered what Kathy would think about his whimsical notions. If she had not stormed out during their last argument, perhaps Russell wouldn’t be having these thoughts. Just having lunch couldn’t hurt, he rationalized, but Russell knew that Sue’s presence next to him was nowhere close to a social call. He sadly leaned back as she fell further into her tech-instructor dialect.
“When anyone drives down his or her conflicting impulses, there is hopefully some benefit around the corner. But directing the mind of another without a potential reward can only be called blind obedience. Blind obedience means subjugating the subject’s will for someone else’s purpose, like what happens in an auto accident.”
“You’ve lost me,” Russell said, honestly confused. In addition to feeling suddenly uncomfortable, a mild headache nagged at the back of his neck.
“Sorry. Forget the auto reference. That’s extreme,” Sue said apologetically. “What I’m trying to say is that on some level, what is occurring with the interface might be considered a daily traumatic experience. An example is telling someone to sit down and to stay seated but not giving a reason as to why they should. The subject might do it because they feel forced to, or they might be trying to please the caregiver, but eventually, there must be a motivation and satisfaction that comes from deeper within that will keep the user in the chair.”
Russell forced himself to maintain eye contact with the attractive tech. Driving down a pang of guilt in his stomach made this action a bit easier to do.
“I get it, but doesn’t the connection supersede all that?” Russell asked. “The entire purpose of what we do is to keep the user calm long enough so we can work with them.”
“You’re still not seeing the bigger picture,” she replied while brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Under normal circumstances, when an individual gives in, there is still a buildup of dissatisfaction. It’s just human nature. Compare the need to get up and move from the seat to blowing up a balloon. Without an occasional release, there will be an explosion. This explosion might take the form of a person withdrawing, but there might also be an aggressive episode. It might appear that the user is losing control, but it’s the opposite. The individual is desperately attempting to regain control of their environment simply because they are saying yes too much.”
“At the risk of sounding like a stage teacher,” Russell said in frustration, “let me see if I have this right.”
Sue quietly sat as Russell collected his thoughts before he spoke.
“Since all other alternatives have been exhausted, it has been deemed there is no other recourse but our present program. What we do is not the insidious mind control played out in the Hollywood holographic features. Our process is more on giving a suggestion, but when this first level of impression is not effective, then the second is used. This circumstance is where the impulse of the caregiver replaces that of the user. The eventual hope is that through conditioning, the user will learn to accept these imposed motivations, even to a small degree. At least, that’s the theory,” Russell said.
“Correct and by the book,” Sue agreed. Her eyebrows rose, and she looked impressed as Russell continued.
“But what you’re saying is that regardless of the connection, there could still be a behavioral episode.”
“No,” she replied. “Because of the connection, there could be a behavioral episode worse than anything that we’ve seen before.”
“I can’t see it,” Russell said, feeling frustrated. “Paul is so compliant, and most times, he seems happy when he’s dealing with me and a few others.”
“But is he truly learning, or are we just another crutch for him, just like psychotropic medications used to be?” she asked.
“What goes unspoken is that there will always be problems and issues a person must muddle through and hopefully learn from on their own. Having problems is true for all of us. In real life, there are no quick fixes. We all must learn by trial and error, and the results become part of us.”
Russell began to speak, but Sue quickly intervened.
“When are you next scheduled to work with Paul?” she asked, changing the subject.
“This afternoon. Why?”
“I have suspicions that we’re dealing with a feedback loop,” Sue replied as she glanced past Russell, as if hoping no one else had heard her. Russell stared at her for a while.
“That can’t apply in this case,” he finally replied with alarm. “I think you’re misjudging the situation.”
“Russell,” she said softly, “you’ve been with this program since its inception, not to mention how long you’ve dealt with Paul. I’m just asking you to be careful. I don’t have the time to argue this point with you now. Please consider that Tech 1 position posted yesterday.”
Russell anxiously thought about the reduction of pay that would occur with the position she mentioned. In the long run, his salary would double from what it was now, but that would take close to a year while he was in training.
“You’re serious,” he finally responded. “You think I should disconnect.”
“It’s been more than time for you to disconnect,” Sue replied. “C.A.L.M. never meant any caregiver to interface permanently. It’s just not natural. Just think about it. Okay?”
Before Russell could answer, Sue quickly flashed a smile at him, stood up, and then made her way toward the conference hall’s rear exit.
“The experiment first began in secluded facilities in the countryside,” the speaker said as he made his way back to the podium. “Back then, most people frowned at the intricacies involved in performing the feat that we now see as miraculous.
“After many decades of conflict, it was understood by the general public that a percentage of those who were mentally disabled, usually with an additional psychiatric diagnosis, would never be able to live peaceably in the community. Locked facilities would forever be their norm. Isolation from the community, and the simple interactions we take for granted, would never be experienced by these individuals.”
Russell glanced at the holograms displayed on the platform next to the speaker of the now-closed institutions. The scene quickly zoomed in to a particular barred picture window, and then the inside of the facility was visible. Scenes of life within the institution played out next to the podium. The stage teacher turned away from the re-creation, faced his audience, and droned on.
“After the intense regimens of psychotropic medications and endless behavioral programs were deemed useless, the goal of community living for these individuals seemed hopelessly out of reach. Regardless, the families and advocates cried out for a way to bring about a peaceful and healthier way of life for their loved ones.
“The time finally arrived when men of science turned to a solution that could directly influence the brain through mechanical means rather than medication. Filled with fear and trepidation, a few families eventually gave consent for what seemed like one last chance to fulfill their hopes.”
Russell felt disgusted with what he saw. The producers explicitly edited the holograms only to show the positive sides of the experiments. Displaying the reality was deemed to be in bad taste. Russell shook his head slightly and continued to listen.
“After some trial and error, a group of medical professionals witnessed the perfection of a wired connection at a 100 percent success rate,” the speaker stated somewhat enthusiastically. “The participating families marveled, but the caregivers and the users connected with wires and terminals came no closer to supporting the goal of normalization. It was not until those obtuse connections gave way to two people remotely dealing with each other that approval for the breakthrough came from all sides. After a few years of success, certain factions of the mental health community began to promote the use of interfaces for those with emotional and intellectual disturbances. The voices of oppositional backlash quieted. It was at that time, the Cerebral Alternative for Life Management or C.A.L.M. truly began. Soon, ample approval and funding rolled in for this and many other related programs.”
It was at this point in the lecture that Russell tuned out the speaker. No matter how noble the cause, business types would always follow economic opportunities. The low pay grade of the level 2 caregivers rose a bit because, without this incentive, the project could not exist. It only made sense that those working closest to the population would direct the needed actions. Russell and similar employees, who were known as caregivers, were highly praised. This new science was the turning point. C.A.L.M. announced its applications as appropriate management for many psychiatric conditions. Regardless of his glorified title and increased income, Russell understood the truth. As always, others made the big bucks while the success stories continued.
Suddenly, thoughts of his wife and her disappointment floated through his mind. Images of Kathy’s tears, immediate money problems, and a mild headache helped Russell find his way back from near slumber. He could hear the speaker finishing up. Russell’s egotistical side felt like moving towards the front of the hall and completing the lecture himself. After years of training and hands-on participation in the program, he quickly and quietly recited the summation in unison with the speaker.
“Two weeks of psychiatric evaluations and two months of rigorous training are required before placing a trainee in a position as a caregiver. Baring one’s soul is what we stage teachers call it. Exploration of the trainee’s weak and strong points is a requirement. Client exposure to anyone who might intentionally harm is forbidden.”
Ethics and morals were all well and good, but Russell knew all this was insignificant compared to the final surgery necessary to make the process work. The techs had said that the intrusion to the brain would be minor, but regardless of the flowery medical terms used, brain surgery was still brain surgery. After the doctors placed internal connectors just under Russell’s skull, it took weeks before his migraine-like headaches finally subsided. Lately, some of those headaches had returned. Most times, the pain meds helped.
Hundreds of caregivers and caregiver trainees were noisily moving towards the exits. As Russell reached to collect his jacket from under his seat, he suddenly heard a familiar voice.
“No one can account for the dark places of Russell’s mind,” she said.
When he glanced up, he caught sight of a soft swell of supple cleavage wrapped in a yielding pink sweater as the owner bent slightly in front of him. Surrounding all this was the white lab coat worn by one of the prettier techs.
“Are you purposely trying to be cryptic, Sue?” Russell asked. He moved his stare upward to the gentle smile he’d happily been becoming more familiar with over the past week.
“Mind if I sit down?” Sue asked without answering his question.
He motioned to the now-empty chair as Sue sat in the seat next to his. As he considered the swiftness with which she sat down, it was easy to see how serious she probably was about to be.
“I’ve been monitoring some of your interactions with Paul, and I’m a bit concerned,” she stated.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Paul and I haven’t had any issues for months now.”
“That’s my point,” Sue replied. “It’s only natural to have issues. We cannot always be in control.”
No chance of asking her out for lunch since she reprimanded him, Russell thought to himself. He wondered what Kathy would think about his whimsical notions. If she had not stormed out during their last argument, perhaps Russell wouldn’t be having these thoughts. Just having lunch couldn’t hurt, he rationalized, but Russell knew that Sue’s presence next to him was nowhere close to a social call. He sadly leaned back as she fell further into her tech-instructor dialect.
“When anyone drives down his or her conflicting impulses, there is hopefully some benefit around the corner. But directing the mind of another without a potential reward can only be called blind obedience. Blind obedience means subjugating the subject’s will for someone else’s purpose, like what happens in an auto accident.”
“You’ve lost me,” Russell said, honestly confused. In addition to feeling suddenly uncomfortable, a mild headache nagged at the back of his neck.
“Sorry. Forget the auto reference. That’s extreme,” Sue said apologetically. “What I’m trying to say is that on some level, what is occurring with the interface might be considered a daily traumatic experience. An example is telling someone to sit down and to stay seated but not giving a reason as to why they should. The subject might do it because they feel forced to, or they might be trying to please the caregiver, but eventually, there must be a motivation and satisfaction that comes from deeper within that will keep the user in the chair.”
Russell forced himself to maintain eye contact with the attractive tech. Driving down a pang of guilt in his stomach made this action a bit easier to do.
“I get it, but doesn’t the connection supersede all that?” Russell asked. “The entire purpose of what we do is to keep the user calm long enough so we can work with them.”
“You’re still not seeing the bigger picture,” she replied while brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Under normal circumstances, when an individual gives in, there is still a buildup of dissatisfaction. It’s just human nature. Compare the need to get up and move from the seat to blowing up a balloon. Without an occasional release, there will be an explosion. This explosion might take the form of a person withdrawing, but there might also be an aggressive episode. It might appear that the user is losing control, but it’s the opposite. The individual is desperately attempting to regain control of their environment simply because they are saying yes too much.”
“At the risk of sounding like a stage teacher,” Russell said in frustration, “let me see if I have this right.”
Sue quietly sat as Russell collected his thoughts before he spoke.
“Since all other alternatives have been exhausted, it has been deemed there is no other recourse but our present program. What we do is not the insidious mind control played out in the Hollywood holographic features. Our process is more on giving a suggestion, but when this first level of impression is not effective, then the second is used. This circumstance is where the impulse of the caregiver replaces that of the user. The eventual hope is that through conditioning, the user will learn to accept these imposed motivations, even to a small degree. At least, that’s the theory,” Russell said.
“Correct and by the book,” Sue agreed. Her eyebrows rose, and she looked impressed as Russell continued.
“But what you’re saying is that regardless of the connection, there could still be a behavioral episode.”
“No,” she replied. “Because of the connection, there could be a behavioral episode worse than anything that we’ve seen before.”
“I can’t see it,” Russell said, feeling frustrated. “Paul is so compliant, and most times, he seems happy when he’s dealing with me and a few others.”
“But is he truly learning, or are we just another crutch for him, just like psychotropic medications used to be?” she asked.
“What goes unspoken is that there will always be problems and issues a person must muddle through and hopefully learn from on their own. Having problems is true for all of us. In real life, there are no quick fixes. We all must learn by trial and error, and the results become part of us.”
Russell began to speak, but Sue quickly intervened.
“When are you next scheduled to work with Paul?” she asked, changing the subject.
“This afternoon. Why?”
“I have suspicions that we’re dealing with a feedback loop,” Sue replied as she glanced past Russell, as if hoping no one else had heard her. Russell stared at her for a while.
“That can’t apply in this case,” he finally replied with alarm. “I think you’re misjudging the situation.”
“Russell,” she said softly, “you’ve been with this program since its inception, not to mention how long you’ve dealt with Paul. I’m just asking you to be careful. I don’t have the time to argue this point with you now. Please consider that Tech 1 position posted yesterday.”
Russell anxiously thought about the reduction of pay that would occur with the position she mentioned. In the long run, his salary would double from what it was now, but that would take close to a year while he was in training.
“You’re serious,” he finally responded. “You think I should disconnect.”
“It’s been more than time for you to disconnect,” Sue replied. “C.A.L.M. never meant any caregiver to interface permanently. It’s just not natural. Just think about it. Okay?”
Before Russell could answer, Sue quickly flashed a smile at him, stood up, and then made her way toward the conference hall’s rear exit.
#
“I’ve got it from here,” Russell said as he manually switched over the caregiver control circuits located on his wristband. “How’s he been today?”
Russell and Craig both stared through the near-reflective glass wall towards the ruffled bed sheets that surrounded the sleeping individual in his bedroom.
“He’s been out of it most of the time,” Craig replied flatly. “I asked if he wanted to go to the park, but he said no a lot more than once. He kept asking me when you were coming on shift. That reminds me. Will you be able to take my shift tomorrow morning?”
Russell was about to quickly say yes when he guiltily remembered that he should contact Kathy. How could he ever get her back if all he did was work? This shift would make the third time this week that Russell pulled a double. Just as quickly, he knew that taking the chance to pay another bill would be the more intelligent thing to do. Russell would take it easier next week. He’d call Kathy, take her somewhere nice and try to make up for the stupid arguments and broken promises. Russell shrugged off the headache that wanted to return.
“Sure. I can be here in the morning. Eight o’clock, right?”
“Yep,” Craig responded. “That’s great. I could really use some time off.”
As Craig was shutting down his wristband, Russell placed a hand on the man’s elbow to slow his haste.
“Craig, how much do you know about feedback loops?” Russell asked nervously.
“Next to nothing; I’m just a caregiver,” Craig replied with a chuckle. “I just know that it’s something to be avoided. I would think you’d know a lot more about it than me. Why do you ask?”
“Just a passing thought,” Russell responded.
“Ask your wrist-chamber if you want to know. Anything else?”
“No – thanks for nothing,” Russell said with a smile.
“Thank you for tomorrow,” Craig replied. “See you.”
Russell watched as the man turned the corner and then disappeared from the domicile area. He knew that to ask the wrist-chamber, with all its infinite connections, would be like telling everyone at C.A.L.M. Central that he was having difficulties with his user. The administration stored all questions, answers, and searches for future use. There was no need to draw unnecessary attention. He’d find another way to get more detail on what Sue had so hurriedly mentioned.
As soon as he entered Paul’s section of the dormitory area, Russell could hear the man’s breathing increase. Russell’s charge swung his feet to the floor and sat up in the bed, not seeming sleepy in the least. Paul must have heard him and Craig talking in the hallway and had been playing possum. On the bed’s headboard, just behind Paul, were numerous animal figurines, which he had seemed so fond of and had purchased during the last year.
Paul sat quietly, staring while his smile reached from ear to ear. It was apparent he had something on his mind. Russell suddenly remembered what that something was, and he rolled his eyes in frustration because he was not looking forward to it.
“Ready to go out today?” Russell asked without really wanting to hear the answer.
“Yes,” Paul replied without hesitation. “Want to go to the circus.”
Paul sat for a while, waiting for Russell’s reply. By the general rule, caregivers were to follow the requests of the users. If Paul had asked to take a day trip to the moon and there was no problem or difficulty with this, it was Russell’s job to facilitate the request. Russell knew there was nothing inappropriate about the request Paul had made, and to not follow up on it might cause problems and perhaps more than one consequence. In contrast, Russell remembered the countless times Paul gave in once Russell made an alternate suggestion. A slower-paced evening would do his lingering headache a lot of good.
“It’s a nice day outside,” Russell said. “The leaves are turning a lot of pretty colors.”
“I want to go to the circus to see the elephants,” Paul replied. “Elephants are funny.”
As Paul spoke, he touched an initialization pad on a side table close to his bed. A holographic image formed, displaying what had to be a lush African landscape. Paul purposely placed the moving image between him and Russell. The ever-moving, eight-foot-tall, mammoth-like shapes were close to rubbing the ceiling tiles.
The glare from the hologram was causing the already crawling pain in Russell’s brain to become excruciating. The thoughts rushing through Russell’s head were not professional. Paul was now irritating him by not giving in to his simple request to go to the park. The temptation to mechanically redirect Paul’s thoughts floated just before his mind’s eye, along with the massive pachyderms.
Rule one for all caregivers was not to use the interface for personal convenience. Russell always abided by this rule, but how else would he make it through to the end of his shift? Russell felt that the noise and commotion of hundreds of laughing people at the circus would kill him. Suddenly, he also remembered the double duty he had promised to pull beginning early in the morning. He had to give the offer of an alternative outing one last chance.
“Paul, let’s go take that walk. We might even see some squirrels in the park. You said before how interested you were…”
“I want to see the elephants,” Paul said, raising his voice an octave. “You promised.”
Blinding lights were clustering before Russell’s eyes. He grabbed his head in an attempt to squeeze out the source of the pain.
“You promised,” Paul repeated in a half-scream. “You promised.”
Russell could feel himself causing the internal flex of the implanted mechanism. Through fogged vision, he glanced at Paul, then at his wristband. The interface was operational, but Paul appeared just as persistent. “Why isn’t it working?” Russell screamed out loud. Against sound reasoning, Russell closed his eyes and mentally pushed harder at Paul. Nothing. Not even the level 2 prompt had the least effect on Paul.
“You promised! You promised! You promised,” Paul screamed repeatedly. His voice echoed loudly throughout the confined space. The large angry man slowly pushed off the bed while keeping his eyes on his caregiver.
Russell was in so much cranial pain that he could not focus on the danger to his safety that Paul might be presenting. Paul was at least ten feet away. The wise course of action would be to call for assistance from anyone who might be close by, but Russell’s only immediate concern was finding a way to stop the pain. There must be something wrong with the implants, the voice inside his head screamed.
As Paul moved a step closer to him, Russell felt as if he were about to lose consciousness. He could feel his right hand holding a supportive metal bar that lined the bedroom wall.
Russell’s head felt as if it was going to explode. “I must get these damn circuits out of my head!” he screamed out loud in distress.
While tightly grabbing the cold metal bar, Russell forced his head into its connected wall repeatedly as he cried out in agony. Blood trickled down his forehead from the open wound, and leaf-like splatters formed on the transparent wall where the trail of crimson was finding its way to the floor.
Russell’s screams brought others to the doorway. Two caregivers placed their hands on Russell’s shoulders in an attempt to stop him from hurting himself. Russell’s clenched fist punched one of the men in the face, making a disturbingly crunching sound. He had probably broken the man’s nose. As the second caregiver tried to grab him, Russell knocked away the man’s arm and then shoved him to the floor. There must have been a third unseen individual present because before Russell could react, a hypodermic needle squeezed against the side of his neck.
As the staff carried him out of the domicile area and before losing consciousness, Russell saw the room upside-down because his head hung backward. The pain behind his eyes slowly subsided into the fog, but there was one thing he saw clearly. By the end of the entire incident, Paul stood quietly, close to his bed. He then lay back down without saying a word.
The anesthetic completely took effect, forcing Russell to let go finally. He thankfully felt a rush of blackness overtaking his field of vision.
Russell and Craig both stared through the near-reflective glass wall towards the ruffled bed sheets that surrounded the sleeping individual in his bedroom.
“He’s been out of it most of the time,” Craig replied flatly. “I asked if he wanted to go to the park, but he said no a lot more than once. He kept asking me when you were coming on shift. That reminds me. Will you be able to take my shift tomorrow morning?”
Russell was about to quickly say yes when he guiltily remembered that he should contact Kathy. How could he ever get her back if all he did was work? This shift would make the third time this week that Russell pulled a double. Just as quickly, he knew that taking the chance to pay another bill would be the more intelligent thing to do. Russell would take it easier next week. He’d call Kathy, take her somewhere nice and try to make up for the stupid arguments and broken promises. Russell shrugged off the headache that wanted to return.
“Sure. I can be here in the morning. Eight o’clock, right?”
“Yep,” Craig responded. “That’s great. I could really use some time off.”
As Craig was shutting down his wristband, Russell placed a hand on the man’s elbow to slow his haste.
“Craig, how much do you know about feedback loops?” Russell asked nervously.
“Next to nothing; I’m just a caregiver,” Craig replied with a chuckle. “I just know that it’s something to be avoided. I would think you’d know a lot more about it than me. Why do you ask?”
“Just a passing thought,” Russell responded.
“Ask your wrist-chamber if you want to know. Anything else?”
“No – thanks for nothing,” Russell said with a smile.
“Thank you for tomorrow,” Craig replied. “See you.”
Russell watched as the man turned the corner and then disappeared from the domicile area. He knew that to ask the wrist-chamber, with all its infinite connections, would be like telling everyone at C.A.L.M. Central that he was having difficulties with his user. The administration stored all questions, answers, and searches for future use. There was no need to draw unnecessary attention. He’d find another way to get more detail on what Sue had so hurriedly mentioned.
As soon as he entered Paul’s section of the dormitory area, Russell could hear the man’s breathing increase. Russell’s charge swung his feet to the floor and sat up in the bed, not seeming sleepy in the least. Paul must have heard him and Craig talking in the hallway and had been playing possum. On the bed’s headboard, just behind Paul, were numerous animal figurines, which he had seemed so fond of and had purchased during the last year.
Paul sat quietly, staring while his smile reached from ear to ear. It was apparent he had something on his mind. Russell suddenly remembered what that something was, and he rolled his eyes in frustration because he was not looking forward to it.
“Ready to go out today?” Russell asked without really wanting to hear the answer.
“Yes,” Paul replied without hesitation. “Want to go to the circus.”
Paul sat for a while, waiting for Russell’s reply. By the general rule, caregivers were to follow the requests of the users. If Paul had asked to take a day trip to the moon and there was no problem or difficulty with this, it was Russell’s job to facilitate the request. Russell knew there was nothing inappropriate about the request Paul had made, and to not follow up on it might cause problems and perhaps more than one consequence. In contrast, Russell remembered the countless times Paul gave in once Russell made an alternate suggestion. A slower-paced evening would do his lingering headache a lot of good.
“It’s a nice day outside,” Russell said. “The leaves are turning a lot of pretty colors.”
“I want to go to the circus to see the elephants,” Paul replied. “Elephants are funny.”
As Paul spoke, he touched an initialization pad on a side table close to his bed. A holographic image formed, displaying what had to be a lush African landscape. Paul purposely placed the moving image between him and Russell. The ever-moving, eight-foot-tall, mammoth-like shapes were close to rubbing the ceiling tiles.
The glare from the hologram was causing the already crawling pain in Russell’s brain to become excruciating. The thoughts rushing through Russell’s head were not professional. Paul was now irritating him by not giving in to his simple request to go to the park. The temptation to mechanically redirect Paul’s thoughts floated just before his mind’s eye, along with the massive pachyderms.
Rule one for all caregivers was not to use the interface for personal convenience. Russell always abided by this rule, but how else would he make it through to the end of his shift? Russell felt that the noise and commotion of hundreds of laughing people at the circus would kill him. Suddenly, he also remembered the double duty he had promised to pull beginning early in the morning. He had to give the offer of an alternative outing one last chance.
“Paul, let’s go take that walk. We might even see some squirrels in the park. You said before how interested you were…”
“I want to see the elephants,” Paul said, raising his voice an octave. “You promised.”
Blinding lights were clustering before Russell’s eyes. He grabbed his head in an attempt to squeeze out the source of the pain.
“You promised,” Paul repeated in a half-scream. “You promised.”
Russell could feel himself causing the internal flex of the implanted mechanism. Through fogged vision, he glanced at Paul, then at his wristband. The interface was operational, but Paul appeared just as persistent. “Why isn’t it working?” Russell screamed out loud. Against sound reasoning, Russell closed his eyes and mentally pushed harder at Paul. Nothing. Not even the level 2 prompt had the least effect on Paul.
“You promised! You promised! You promised,” Paul screamed repeatedly. His voice echoed loudly throughout the confined space. The large angry man slowly pushed off the bed while keeping his eyes on his caregiver.
Russell was in so much cranial pain that he could not focus on the danger to his safety that Paul might be presenting. Paul was at least ten feet away. The wise course of action would be to call for assistance from anyone who might be close by, but Russell’s only immediate concern was finding a way to stop the pain. There must be something wrong with the implants, the voice inside his head screamed.
As Paul moved a step closer to him, Russell felt as if he were about to lose consciousness. He could feel his right hand holding a supportive metal bar that lined the bedroom wall.
Russell’s head felt as if it was going to explode. “I must get these damn circuits out of my head!” he screamed out loud in distress.
While tightly grabbing the cold metal bar, Russell forced his head into its connected wall repeatedly as he cried out in agony. Blood trickled down his forehead from the open wound, and leaf-like splatters formed on the transparent wall where the trail of crimson was finding its way to the floor.
Russell’s screams brought others to the doorway. Two caregivers placed their hands on Russell’s shoulders in an attempt to stop him from hurting himself. Russell’s clenched fist punched one of the men in the face, making a disturbingly crunching sound. He had probably broken the man’s nose. As the second caregiver tried to grab him, Russell knocked away the man’s arm and then shoved him to the floor. There must have been a third unseen individual present because before Russell could react, a hypodermic needle squeezed against the side of his neck.
As the staff carried him out of the domicile area and before losing consciousness, Russell saw the room upside-down because his head hung backward. The pain behind his eyes slowly subsided into the fog, but there was one thing he saw clearly. By the end of the entire incident, Paul stood quietly, close to his bed. He then lay back down without saying a word.
The anesthetic completely took effect, forcing Russell to let go finally. He thankfully felt a rush of blackness overtaking his field of vision.
#
Russell tried to sit up but found he couldn’t. Arm and leg restraints had him pinned to the bed. Panic filled Russell until he suddenly remembered what had happened. Most things were still fuzzy, probably because of the anesthetic, but he did remember some sort of incident in Paul’s bedroom. Russell slowly recalled the fight and guessed that his restraints were a standard precaution considering the trouble he had caused. Because of the antiseptic odors besieging his nose, he realized he was in a hospital room. In addition to his dizziness, the back of his head felt like a blunt object violently struck him there. He had no choice but to give up and lie still. It was then that he realized there were people next to him.
The voices sounded familiar. Russell was certain one was Sue. The other might have been the stage teacher who had done the presentation he attended. It was difficult to tell, but they sounded like they were discussing him. Sue was trying to keep her voice down as she spoke.
“There’s software built into the program that recognizes any abusive behavior of the caregiver towards the user. Once C.A.L.M. Central is alerted, it’s their job to sever the connection.”
“But that didn’t happen,” the stage teacher stated. “C.A.L.M. didn’t sever the connection because misuse of the interface did not occur. There is no mechanical register of Russell attempting to influence Paul’s behavior unnecessarily.”
“Perhaps he tried, but something interfered with the connection,” Sue responded.
“Possibly,” the teacher said. “Regardless, something has changed for the better in Paul. Throughout the stressful situation, he only reacted as you or I would have. There was resentment and perhaps anger, but he did not lash out at Russell. Hopefully, it’s not an anomaly of some kind. Whatever the reasoning, Paul now seems to be an exception to the rule.”
“This could be the breakthrough that we’ve been searching for,” Sue exclaimed out.
“Yes, but with only one drawback – and do try to calm down, Ms. Clark,” the stage teacher cautioned. “We are still running tests on Paul.”
“Sorry, sir,” she quickly responded. “I forgot my place.”
“That’s alright, my dear,” he replied. “I understand your excitement.” He then continued. “The added dilemma is that, according to the bedroom vids, Russell was making a conscious decision not to follow Paul’s outing request. Paul was displaying a positive, independent interaction with no aggression involved. It seems that Russell was attempting not to allow it because of his own needs. If he does recover, there will be an investigation. He might even have to be brought up on charges and probably lose his position.”
Russell froze. I can’t lose my job as a caregiver, he thought in distress. How could I pay the bills? What would Kathy think of the foolish and selfish way I’d handled myself? Will she ever come back to me after this? He wanted to dig himself a hole and hide after the way he acted.
Sue moved closer to his bed. She seemed to be staring down at him, but he wasn’t sure. “What could have caused Russell to do a thing like that? They’ve been getting along so well for months,” Sue said. “I observed high levels of anxiety in Russell even when he wasn’t with Paul, but I surmised the levels were normal, considering the extra work he was doing.”
Sue suddenly stopped speaking as if she had said something wrong. Russell strained his eyes to see clearer. He could see Sue staring at the wide-eyed doctor who had become quiet.
“I know, I know,” Sue said, sounding sheepish. “When the caregivers are not working, protocol states we are not to monitor them. Unfortunately, there were those high levels. I’m not happy about the unauthorized monitoring, but I was concerned about him.”
“Ms. Clark,” the stage teacher said with little emotion, “did Russell share with you that his wife died about two months ago?”
Everything around Russell seemed to stop, and time stood still. Sue must have taken a step back, out of his field of vision, because it was suddenly hard for him to see her. Spreading wetness on his forehead forced Russell to remember how he pushed his head into the wall. Though he couldn’t be sure, Russell imagined red spots fighting their way through the edges of the bandages. This injury suddenly became a minor concern as he had flashes of memory of the blood on Kathy’s face, which was so much worse. She lifelessly lay there in the car seat, grotesquely twisted after the crash. I ran the light. My fault, my fault. Russell screamed silently. Kathy! Dear God, Kathy! She can’t be dead. She can’t be. His vision had suddenly cleared, and for a short while, so did the headache pain. A single tear slid down the side of his face and landed on the crisp pillowcase.
“I wasn’t aware,” Sue finally replied to the stage teacher. She was catching her breath quickly as if she were close to tears.
“He must have put a lot of effort into masking his sorrow. The poor thing.”
“I only became aware as I went through his authorization materials,” the stage teacher said as he stared at Russell’s motionless form. It seems that his injuries were minor, but his grief was, shall I say, unrelenting. Russell gave authorization that tech support make small adjustments to his interface unit. They agreed that the less personal pain he had to deal with, the better. Not to mention how much more productive he’d be.
The stage teacher turned and stared at Sue, who stood quietly with her mouth partially open.
“My dear,” the teacher said as he shook his head from side to side. “I know what I’m saying sounds cold, but Russell did give his consent. A note on his file mentioned that his wish was to believe that his wife had left town after arguing. It also stated that Russell feared how the reduction of income would affect his many unpaid bills.”
“I understand,” Sue said, sounding reserved. “I guess it was just too painful for him, but to decide not to deal with his grief...” Sue paused for a moment as if trying to come to terms with the thought. “I wonder if there were other complications with the adjustment, such as memory leaks or pain. These views are just speculation on my part, of course,” she said quickly, almost sounding more like a tech.
“Well, let’s just say that it gives us the extra information we need to prove our theory of what happened,” the stage teacher stated aloofly.
“Then we are talking about a feedback loop,” Sue said as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Russell did not think it was possible, but he could see that the stage teacher’s demeanor became noticeably even more reserved.
“Recite, please,” the teacher stiffly requested.
Suddenly, Sue’s posture straightened. She seemed to understand that this was a test. It didn’t matter that she was in a hospital room with a friend who had potentially experienced significant brain trauma. She appeared to organize her thoughts, cleared her throat, and began.
“Three events always cause anxiety: A trigger, such as speaking on stage – that’s mine,” she said as she lowered her eyes.
“Next comes the negative thought of the event occurring and then a physical reaction, like stuttering, for example. These form a negative feedback loop, where one begets the other, over and over.”
“How do most people deal with this?” the teacher asked.
“To cope with their anxiety, most avoid the trigger,” Sue replied. “Though avoidance helps in the immediate moment, it makes the anxiety worse in the long term.”
“And that is because?” the teacher asked.
“Two reasons: One, it reinforces a person’s belief that they’re helpless to deal with it, and two, they don’t get positive experiences as a basis for further success.”
“Very good, my dear,” the teacher said as he moved over to pat Sue’s shoulder softly. He slowly took his time before withdrawing his hand. “Now, after reviewing all of the known facts, what do you surmise has occurred today?”
Sue took a deep breath before she nervously gave her summation.
“Since the inception of the program, it’s become apparent that continued high levels of anxiety interfere with the interface’s performance. The machinery finds it difficult to distinguish between negative thoughts towards the user and anxiety that the caregiver might have for other reasons. So, Russell’s reoccurring anxiety or negative feedback loop and his refusal to fulfill Paul’s request somehow caused a temporary shut-down of the interface.”
“Excellent,” the teacher stated. “Continue.”
“The clinical scans show that Russell has been experiencing headaches that were ever-increasing due to the stress from overwork as he attempted to reconcile his changed financial status. Also, Russell’s inability to deal with his wife’s loss and sufficiently grieve, placed him under a lot of pressure. Also, the techs are still looking into whether mechanical failure occurred with the interface or if it was the high anxiety levels or perhaps a combination of both.”
“Congratulations, Ms. Clark. You seem to have covered all the points but one.”
“Sorry, sir, but let me finish,” Sue said, quickly interrupting him. “What I don’t understand is Paul’s reaction to this situation. He handled it fine without being prompted.”
“But you see, that’s the point,” the stage teacher responded. “There was no need to intervene with the interface. Our first expectation was that Paul would go manic after his refused request, but the opposite was true. Paul seems to contain part of the future of the cure that we have been searching for.”
“You mean that Paul has learned?” Sue asked as she moved her hands up to her mouth in disbelief.
“Either through new pathways being created along with his circuits or from conditioning,” the stage teacher replied. “Either way, it happened thanks to Russell’s assistance.”
“But what’s to become of Russell?” Sue asked, giving another side-glance in his direction.
“Russell will be going back into surgery soon,” the stage teacher explained. “The doctors will make the needed adjustments to the implants, but there is little hope of him ever becoming a tech or continuing as a caregiver, for that matter. There was a great deal of cranial damage. But he could benefit from having a caregiver of his own. At least for a while, in any case. The connections are already there. All that’s needed is to move the current in the opposite direction.”
“John, that seems cold,” Sue said unexpectedly. “Russell has been part of the program for years, and…” Sue stopped speaking as if she was suddenly embarrassed.
“Ms. Clark, please try to remember your place,” the stage teacher said flatly. “This situation will undoubtedly advance our studies here at C.A.L.M. Central and present opportunities for our future advancements.
Sue seemed startled by the callousness of what the stage teacher had said; then, a new understanding appeared to dawn across her face. She even smiled slightly at the teacher.
“Well, we are here to aid in the progress of the intellectually disabled,” she said almost sweetly.
“Let’s continue this conversation in my office,” said the stage teacher, who presented the first smile that Russell had ever seen from the man.
Knowing that he might soon be alone, Russell tried to move or simply utter a sound, but his efforts were useless. They can’t hear me, Russell thought to himself. This helplessness must be how Paul feels. I understand now. Please don’t leave. There is still so much more I can share with you.
As he moved all his reserved strength to turn his head slightly, a blinding bolt of pain reached across his brain with explosive intensity. The shock forced Russell to lie still, desperately trying to find peace.
His wife’s bloodied face flashed before him. I’m sorry, Kathy, I’m so sorry, Russell cried to himself as he began to grieve uncontrollably. As he fell into unconsciousness, Russell could hear the diminishing sound of footsteps as Sue and the stage teacher walked out of his cold and lonely room and into the profoundly distant hallway.
The voices sounded familiar. Russell was certain one was Sue. The other might have been the stage teacher who had done the presentation he attended. It was difficult to tell, but they sounded like they were discussing him. Sue was trying to keep her voice down as she spoke.
“There’s software built into the program that recognizes any abusive behavior of the caregiver towards the user. Once C.A.L.M. Central is alerted, it’s their job to sever the connection.”
“But that didn’t happen,” the stage teacher stated. “C.A.L.M. didn’t sever the connection because misuse of the interface did not occur. There is no mechanical register of Russell attempting to influence Paul’s behavior unnecessarily.”
“Perhaps he tried, but something interfered with the connection,” Sue responded.
“Possibly,” the teacher said. “Regardless, something has changed for the better in Paul. Throughout the stressful situation, he only reacted as you or I would have. There was resentment and perhaps anger, but he did not lash out at Russell. Hopefully, it’s not an anomaly of some kind. Whatever the reasoning, Paul now seems to be an exception to the rule.”
“This could be the breakthrough that we’ve been searching for,” Sue exclaimed out.
“Yes, but with only one drawback – and do try to calm down, Ms. Clark,” the stage teacher cautioned. “We are still running tests on Paul.”
“Sorry, sir,” she quickly responded. “I forgot my place.”
“That’s alright, my dear,” he replied. “I understand your excitement.” He then continued. “The added dilemma is that, according to the bedroom vids, Russell was making a conscious decision not to follow Paul’s outing request. Paul was displaying a positive, independent interaction with no aggression involved. It seems that Russell was attempting not to allow it because of his own needs. If he does recover, there will be an investigation. He might even have to be brought up on charges and probably lose his position.”
Russell froze. I can’t lose my job as a caregiver, he thought in distress. How could I pay the bills? What would Kathy think of the foolish and selfish way I’d handled myself? Will she ever come back to me after this? He wanted to dig himself a hole and hide after the way he acted.
Sue moved closer to his bed. She seemed to be staring down at him, but he wasn’t sure. “What could have caused Russell to do a thing like that? They’ve been getting along so well for months,” Sue said. “I observed high levels of anxiety in Russell even when he wasn’t with Paul, but I surmised the levels were normal, considering the extra work he was doing.”
Sue suddenly stopped speaking as if she had said something wrong. Russell strained his eyes to see clearer. He could see Sue staring at the wide-eyed doctor who had become quiet.
“I know, I know,” Sue said, sounding sheepish. “When the caregivers are not working, protocol states we are not to monitor them. Unfortunately, there were those high levels. I’m not happy about the unauthorized monitoring, but I was concerned about him.”
“Ms. Clark,” the stage teacher said with little emotion, “did Russell share with you that his wife died about two months ago?”
Everything around Russell seemed to stop, and time stood still. Sue must have taken a step back, out of his field of vision, because it was suddenly hard for him to see her. Spreading wetness on his forehead forced Russell to remember how he pushed his head into the wall. Though he couldn’t be sure, Russell imagined red spots fighting their way through the edges of the bandages. This injury suddenly became a minor concern as he had flashes of memory of the blood on Kathy’s face, which was so much worse. She lifelessly lay there in the car seat, grotesquely twisted after the crash. I ran the light. My fault, my fault. Russell screamed silently. Kathy! Dear God, Kathy! She can’t be dead. She can’t be. His vision had suddenly cleared, and for a short while, so did the headache pain. A single tear slid down the side of his face and landed on the crisp pillowcase.
“I wasn’t aware,” Sue finally replied to the stage teacher. She was catching her breath quickly as if she were close to tears.
“He must have put a lot of effort into masking his sorrow. The poor thing.”
“I only became aware as I went through his authorization materials,” the stage teacher said as he stared at Russell’s motionless form. It seems that his injuries were minor, but his grief was, shall I say, unrelenting. Russell gave authorization that tech support make small adjustments to his interface unit. They agreed that the less personal pain he had to deal with, the better. Not to mention how much more productive he’d be.
The stage teacher turned and stared at Sue, who stood quietly with her mouth partially open.
“My dear,” the teacher said as he shook his head from side to side. “I know what I’m saying sounds cold, but Russell did give his consent. A note on his file mentioned that his wish was to believe that his wife had left town after arguing. It also stated that Russell feared how the reduction of income would affect his many unpaid bills.”
“I understand,” Sue said, sounding reserved. “I guess it was just too painful for him, but to decide not to deal with his grief...” Sue paused for a moment as if trying to come to terms with the thought. “I wonder if there were other complications with the adjustment, such as memory leaks or pain. These views are just speculation on my part, of course,” she said quickly, almost sounding more like a tech.
“Well, let’s just say that it gives us the extra information we need to prove our theory of what happened,” the stage teacher stated aloofly.
“Then we are talking about a feedback loop,” Sue said as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Russell did not think it was possible, but he could see that the stage teacher’s demeanor became noticeably even more reserved.
“Recite, please,” the teacher stiffly requested.
Suddenly, Sue’s posture straightened. She seemed to understand that this was a test. It didn’t matter that she was in a hospital room with a friend who had potentially experienced significant brain trauma. She appeared to organize her thoughts, cleared her throat, and began.
“Three events always cause anxiety: A trigger, such as speaking on stage – that’s mine,” she said as she lowered her eyes.
“Next comes the negative thought of the event occurring and then a physical reaction, like stuttering, for example. These form a negative feedback loop, where one begets the other, over and over.”
“How do most people deal with this?” the teacher asked.
“To cope with their anxiety, most avoid the trigger,” Sue replied. “Though avoidance helps in the immediate moment, it makes the anxiety worse in the long term.”
“And that is because?” the teacher asked.
“Two reasons: One, it reinforces a person’s belief that they’re helpless to deal with it, and two, they don’t get positive experiences as a basis for further success.”
“Very good, my dear,” the teacher said as he moved over to pat Sue’s shoulder softly. He slowly took his time before withdrawing his hand. “Now, after reviewing all of the known facts, what do you surmise has occurred today?”
Sue took a deep breath before she nervously gave her summation.
“Since the inception of the program, it’s become apparent that continued high levels of anxiety interfere with the interface’s performance. The machinery finds it difficult to distinguish between negative thoughts towards the user and anxiety that the caregiver might have for other reasons. So, Russell’s reoccurring anxiety or negative feedback loop and his refusal to fulfill Paul’s request somehow caused a temporary shut-down of the interface.”
“Excellent,” the teacher stated. “Continue.”
“The clinical scans show that Russell has been experiencing headaches that were ever-increasing due to the stress from overwork as he attempted to reconcile his changed financial status. Also, Russell’s inability to deal with his wife’s loss and sufficiently grieve, placed him under a lot of pressure. Also, the techs are still looking into whether mechanical failure occurred with the interface or if it was the high anxiety levels or perhaps a combination of both.”
“Congratulations, Ms. Clark. You seem to have covered all the points but one.”
“Sorry, sir, but let me finish,” Sue said, quickly interrupting him. “What I don’t understand is Paul’s reaction to this situation. He handled it fine without being prompted.”
“But you see, that’s the point,” the stage teacher responded. “There was no need to intervene with the interface. Our first expectation was that Paul would go manic after his refused request, but the opposite was true. Paul seems to contain part of the future of the cure that we have been searching for.”
“You mean that Paul has learned?” Sue asked as she moved her hands up to her mouth in disbelief.
“Either through new pathways being created along with his circuits or from conditioning,” the stage teacher replied. “Either way, it happened thanks to Russell’s assistance.”
“But what’s to become of Russell?” Sue asked, giving another side-glance in his direction.
“Russell will be going back into surgery soon,” the stage teacher explained. “The doctors will make the needed adjustments to the implants, but there is little hope of him ever becoming a tech or continuing as a caregiver, for that matter. There was a great deal of cranial damage. But he could benefit from having a caregiver of his own. At least for a while, in any case. The connections are already there. All that’s needed is to move the current in the opposite direction.”
“John, that seems cold,” Sue said unexpectedly. “Russell has been part of the program for years, and…” Sue stopped speaking as if she was suddenly embarrassed.
“Ms. Clark, please try to remember your place,” the stage teacher said flatly. “This situation will undoubtedly advance our studies here at C.A.L.M. Central and present opportunities for our future advancements.
Sue seemed startled by the callousness of what the stage teacher had said; then, a new understanding appeared to dawn across her face. She even smiled slightly at the teacher.
“Well, we are here to aid in the progress of the intellectually disabled,” she said almost sweetly.
“Let’s continue this conversation in my office,” said the stage teacher, who presented the first smile that Russell had ever seen from the man.
Knowing that he might soon be alone, Russell tried to move or simply utter a sound, but his efforts were useless. They can’t hear me, Russell thought to himself. This helplessness must be how Paul feels. I understand now. Please don’t leave. There is still so much more I can share with you.
As he moved all his reserved strength to turn his head slightly, a blinding bolt of pain reached across his brain with explosive intensity. The shock forced Russell to lie still, desperately trying to find peace.
His wife’s bloodied face flashed before him. I’m sorry, Kathy, I’m so sorry, Russell cried to himself as he began to grieve uncontrollably. As he fell into unconsciousness, Russell could hear the diminishing sound of footsteps as Sue and the stage teacher walked out of his cold and lonely room and into the profoundly distant hallway.
END
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