The Great Gray Superhighway

By Jeff Vrolyks

Neurosurgeon Hudson Gammond lost his license to practice medicine upon his daughter’s death: exploratory brain surgery. He moves to a small mountain town where he befriends the Jacoby’s. Their daughter Emily has a rare form of Autism that kills its victims before they reach adolescence. Desperate, the Jacoby’s will do anything to save their daughter. Hudson has an idea, one that did not fare so well for his late daughter, but this time things will be different, he’s sure of it. He performs a procedure that lays down infrastructure in the brain to access intelligence, which he calls The Great Gray Superhighway. The operation is a success, Emily thrives. That is, until she begins seeing something that nobody else can see, something terrifying. It haunts her, is after her, finds a way to her through The Great Gray Superhighway.
*Based loosely on the novella The Great God Pan, written in 1894 by Arthur Machen.
**Includes a sample of Behind the Horned Mask

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeff Vrolyks
• Release date: Dec 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311682383

Jeff Vrolyks

Jeff Vrolyks lives with his supple wife of 7 years Christy in Simi Valley, California. He is a new writer, in that he recently discovered a passion for writing and hasn't stopped since. He was in the Air Force for a four year stint (cargo aircraft crew-chief), worked in the beer beverage industry, automotive industry, and in the oil fields on drilling rigs. His turn on’s include rain-forest thunderstorms, rainy sunsets at the beach, and glowing reviews from you. His turn off’s include driving in Los Angeles, working-out in an over-crowded gym with fat hairy people in spandex, and receiving scathing reviews from people intolerant of foul language and violence. Find him on Facebook to be kept current on upcoming releases.

Book preview

Foreword

One of my favorite horror stories is The Great God Pan, a novella written by Arthur Machen in 1894. The premise of it so captivated and inspired me that I had long considered writing a modern version of it. Although my story has very little in common with the original, I couldn’t have conceived the idea without Arthur’s piece. Never before and never again will I use another author’s ideas for my own, but I strongly feel that this singular story needs a modern-day audience. I highly recommend reading the original, if you can find it.

Part One

Chapter 1

People who live in small mountain-town communities have a certain proudness to them uncommonly found in others. An inherent proudness stemming from generations of detachment from the outside world, with a heritage of living off the land and providing for themselves. They are rugged, pragmatic folks, hardened from the oftentimes cruel elements. Such is the thread of the social fabric of Youngstown, West Virginia.

Nestled in a small valley in the Appalachian mountains, Youngstown is five-thousand feet above sea level, and some twenty miles from the nearest town, Jackson, which is a forty-five-minute drive down winding roads. A sign leading into town boasts a population of just over three thousand. Two of every five adult Youngstowners are employed at J&M Timber: loggers. J&M has both sawmill and paper mill facilities. The abundance of high-value trees such as the black cherry, white ash, and black walnut trees, make it a lucrative business. J&M is a family owned and operated business, its owner Matthew Jacoby the fifth generation Jacoby to preside over the company. His three sons run the day to day operations. No one who knows the Jacoby’s would have an ill word to say about them. They paid their employees very well, treated them like family, and in many ways they were.

Levi, one of three Jacoby sons, vice president of operations, controlled the transportation side of the business. His main office was at the plant, but he was afforded the pleasure of working out of his home office most days. At thirty-one, Levi was two years older than his wife Andrea. He was nineteen when he met her at the annual Youngstown fair. She had been new to town, moved there with her parents when her father had been laid off from a coal-mining company, and hadn’t yet made a single friend before fate crossed her and Levi’s paths. It was love at first sight for both. They possessed green eyes (hers bright and deep, his pale and thoughtful), as would their daughter Emily several years later—Emily, whose remarkable destiny is the foundation of this story.

Six months after Levi and Andrea met, they wed and enjoyed life to the fullest extent without the burden of raising a child. Once the notion of a child being somewhat of a burden evolved into an aching desire to parent a child, they began the pleasurable task of trying to start a family.

They considered her to be a gift from God, Emily, being that they had been assured by a big-city fertility specialist that Levi was sterile and would never produce offspring. They maintained hope that the specialist was wrong, or maybe Levi was only somewhat sterile, if such a thing could be said. After years of trying (coupled with praying) their prayers were answered in the form of a seven-pound two-ounce angel, who possessed the greenest eyes imaginable, emerald, and hair so pale that it was gossamer, a haphazard thatch of spider’s silk.

Emily was delivered by Doctor Hudson Gammond, the town doctor. Hudson Gammond earned his degree at none other than Harvard Medical School, at the top of his class. A kid genius he had been, graduating high school at fifteen years of age with a 4.5 GPA. At twenty-three-years-young, Doctorate in hand, Hudson took residency at NYU, and a year later took employment with the same university as a neurosurgeon. By the time he reached twenty-five, he owned a penthouse apartment in Manhattan. The world was at his feet, his future as bright as one could be.

Hudson Gammond met his future wife Brianna (she preferred to be called Brie) at the hospital he worked. She was born with a birth defect known as AVM, or Arteriovenous Malformation, which is a tangling of veins and arteries in a localized area such as the brain, wrist, or knee (these three locations being the most common). Brie’s AVM was in her brain. She had seen several specialists before being contacted by Hudson Gammond. He arranged for her to fly to New York for an examination. She was discouraged at her prospects of finding relief from this painful disease when her young doctor entered the hospital room. She was a year older than him, for chrissake. How could a twenty-five-year-old wet-behind-the-ears young man succeed where others had failed? Hudson perceived this deflation of her spirits upon their introduction, and couldn’t help but laugh, to Brie’s dismay. He expounded his credentials with that boyish smile that she’d fall in love with, and asked her if she had ever watched Doogie Howser M.D., the show about a boy-genius doctor. A genius is what Hudson was called by Brie toward the end of that initial interview. Brie, who exclaimed, You’re a genius! with an open mouth and wide eyes, seconds after Doctor Hudson Gammond explained to her the procedure he had in mind for curing her. There is no cure for AVM, only treatment and seldom is it effective, its benefits typically diminish with time, as the veins and arteries will inevitably tangle anew. Hudson’s idea was innovative. More than that, it was revolutionary. And above all, it worked—Hudson was a living testament to that. The tangle of nerves and arteries should be excised and removed, the ends re-attached, and a contrivance consisting of a series of tiny discs with several holes in them can be placed in the trouble location, the holes used to route veins through, in effect keeping them in place and incapable of entwining.

Brie inquired of the doctor if the procedure had ever been performed before, or was she the first, a Guinea pig of sorts.

It has been performed once, Hudson informed. "You will be the second patient, and not a Guinea pig."

They survived it, huh? Brie asked with a brooding brow, the idea of brain surgery as unpalatable as any notion she could imagine.

You tell me, he said with a grin. Do I appear to have survived it?

"You?" she blurted. "You have AVM too?"

Indeed. Having AVM is the very reason why I studied medicine, why I chose to be a neurosurgeon. If nobody else would find a cure, why shouldn’t I take a stab at it? The operation was a complete success. This is why I sought you out, Brie, to help you. To cure you. My ultimate goal is for no one on earth to suffer the symptoms of AVM. It began with me and will not end with you. So what do you think? Want to give it a try?

Absolutely I do.

As far as neurologists go, Hudson Gammond had earned himself notoriety and great respect within his circle of colleagues and a small slice of fame within the medical world at large. Hudson Gammond: the man who defeated AVM.

The following year her name became Mrs. Brie Gammond, and their first born was ushered into the world sixteen months later, a girl they named Rose, the budding flower of their lives.

Six years later their world was turned upside down when Rose died. Not much has been disclosed publicly regarding the particulars of Rose’s death, and the circumstances which led to it. The year she was buried was the same year Hudson lost his license to practice medicine, his daughter’s death being the reason. In a word, malpractice. Brie remained his wife, hadn’t so much as flirted with the idea of leaving him, as she never blamed him for the death of their precious Rose.

Having lost his license to practice medicine but not the desire to practice it, he jumped at the opportunity of employment in Youngstown, West Virginia. It was Brie’s cousin Jennifer who had informed Hudson of the position. Jennifer’s brother-in-law Frank was a pulp truck driver in Youngstown. Timing is everything, and in the summer of that year the town doctor in his ripe old age of seventy-nine passed away of a stroke just one week after Hudson Gammond was stripped of his medical license. Knowing that the town needed a doctor, and that Frank’s sister-in-law had a cousin who was an out-of work surgeon, he made a phone call that would lead to several phone calls that culminated in a transplant, that being from New York to West Virginia.

Hudson Gammond wouldn’t call himself Doctor Gammond (not at first, at least), was open with the townsfolk that he had lost his license to practice medicine, but not why he had lost it. It is a deeply personal matter, he would say the few times he was affronted with such a bold and intrusive inquiry.

Hudson was a charismatic, handsome, likable man, and exceedingly intelligent and well-spoken for his years (now in his early thirties), and was thus accepted into the community with open arms. There was a rumor circulating around town that he lost his license due to prescribing narcotics to patients who didn’t need them, and another rumor that he had assisted an old man suffering from terminal cancer with killing himself. There existed yet another rumor that those two aforementioned rumors were propagated by Hudson Gammond himself to escape the real reason why he lost his license. But it was of minor issue, as Youngstowners grew fond of him quickly. Nobody needled him for details of his veiled past. It helped his cause that Brie remained his loyal and loving spouse—if Hudson had done something outrageously heinous, his wife would have left him, was the prevailing opinion in town.

The consensus in Youngstown was this: in a small Podunk town of three thousand mostly uneducated salt-of-the-earth people, Youngstown had a true genius doctor-surgeon with a Harvard degree. Can’t beat that! What’s that?–you have a brain tumor? Just go down Fig Street and hang a left; the guy in the yellow house will take that right out for you, make you right as rain! And being that the town was seemingly a million miles from the outside world, a self-policed community, he would practice medicine in town with no repercussions, no legal ramifications. There was always the chance of getting caught, sure, but there was no reason to be overly concerned.

Hudson and Brie Gammond had only been living in Youngstown for a few days when they met the Jacoby’s. Andrea and Levi Jacoby were their first customers, in a yellow two-story house that doubled as a doctor’s office. It was on the outskirts of town, a backyard hedged by the wild untamed woods, birch trees and maples. Andrea and Levi had made a noon appointment and nervously entered the house/business at ten-till-noon, their reason for the visit being that Andrea was six weeks late on her cycle, and had tested positive for pregnancy by an over-the-counter test. The doctor’s wife Brie overheard the conversation and took it upon herself to make introductions and congratulate Andrea on being presumably pregnant. Brie was a personable and lovely woman; Andrea took an instant liking to her, and a friendship was struck between the two, just as Levi and Hudson would become friends. Quickly they became a quartet, inseparable friends.

A river runs through the periphery of Youngstown, in the Verdure Flats, which is a popular destination for campers. It is the Yeoman River, though it’s more of a stream or a brook than a river. The fishing is great. Some massive brown trout can be pulled out of it. Being that there isn’t a heck of a lot to do in Youngstown—there’s a bowling alley and movie theater, and not much else—fishing and hunting are a popular means of passing time and a great way of putting fresh meat on the dinner table. People hunt deer and black bears, and do so without permits. As earlier mentioned, the law is something enforced internally in Youngstown, by a police force of two men and one woman. There is a hunting season, technically, but the Fish and Game wardens never passed through town. Levi enjoyed both hunting and fishing, and taught Hudson both. Levi marveled at how a man so incomparably intelligent as Hudson could be so ignorant of fundamental activities such as fishing and hunting.

It was during one excursion at the Yeoman River, hiking the rough terrain with fly-fishing poles in hand, when Levi first confessed to his friend that he and Andrea were concerned over their now two-year-old daughter Emily’s mental state. Levi hadn’t intended this to be a big deal, but at once saw that Hudson took his words with utmost seriousness. When Levi glanced over his shoulder he saw that his friend had ceased walking and set his pole down, crossed his arms and wore a pensive expression.

What exactly have you experienced from Emily? Hudson asked—although he was being Doctor Gammond at the moment.

Levi exhaled deeply and gazed off into the deep thicket with solemn eyes, eyes avoiding his friend’s. The other day Emily couldn’t remember what to call me. She has been calling me daddy for over a year now. But just like that, she was at a loss for the right word.

Did it come to her eventually, on her own?

No. I’m sure it’s nothing, but…

But?

Well, it happened again last night. This time to Andrea. Emily seemed to stumble on the word mommy, ended up calling her daddy. I could tell she knew daddy was the incorrect word, but she used it anyway. You could see the confusion in her eyes.

Levi was hoping his friend’s reaction to this news would be anything other than what it was.

And this is a brand new thing? Hudson asked. Has she ever had difficulty trying to recover a known word or phrase before?

No. Never.

Levi hoped that was the best answer, the one that would allay his friend’s concern. It was the truth, after all. Emily was a bright kid, was potty-trained four months earlier than was the average age, had taken her first step two months earlier than the average child. She was above average in every measurable aspect, according to the books they had read and websites they had browsed. Their girl was going to be a brilliant woman one day, God willing, far smarter than her parents. Their expectations for her were as high as the mountain their town resided upon.

I see, Hudson said, and by his tone Levi surmised he had given the wrong answer. Tell me, is there anything else different about her as of late? Anything odd, maybe seemingly insignificant to you?

Levi rubbed the side of his face in his meditation. He stole a glance at his friend: his heart beat harder at his expression, which was graver than ever. He hummed contemplatively. I’m sure this is nothing, but Emily forgot to flush the toilet on a couple occasions.

How long has that been occurring?

It’s only been a couple times, over the last week or two. And a few nights ago she didn’t use the fork at the dinner table like she always does, but used her hand.

What were you having?

Why does that matter?

Was it something that using her hands could be seen as appropriate, such as fish sticks or green beans?

It was macaroni and cheese. They stared at one another for a tense moment before Levi said, You’re scaring me a little.

Scaring you? At once Hudson changed his disposition. I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intention. I’m sure nothing is wrong. Honestly. But I’d love for you to bring Emily by my office so I can have a look at her.

Levi nodded. Together they recommenced their trek into the woods. Hudson touched his friend’s shoulder and smiled earnestly at him. Levi returned it, forced as it was. He didn’t know that Hudson’s smile was just as forced.

"If something is wrong with her, Levi said hypothetically, what do you suppose it could be?"

Oh I don’t know, Hudson said dismissively.

You don’t know? Levi said thickly. Ha! Come on, Hudson, lies don’t become you. You’re a friggin’ genius, a neurosurgeon, for crying out loud.

Hudson looked away as he said, I’d hate to worry you and Andrea needlessly. On my better judgment I’ll reserve opinions and potentially a diagnosis until I see Emily. And test her.

Test her? For what? Come on, man, you have a guess that you’re not telling me. What is it?

Hudson sighed, bowed his head, and spoke like a man who really didn’t want to say what he was about to say. Do you or Andrea have a history of mental illness or birth defects in your family? Any at all? Autism, perhaps?

Autism? Levi stopped, turned Hudson to face him. Autism! You think Emily may be Autistic? That’s impossible! Children are born Autistic, and Emily is as bright a kid as I’ve ever seen!

Hudson nodded in agreement, but that damned expression was unnerving as hell.

Am I right? Levi asked with an air of desperation. Is she not the brightest girl you’ve ever seen? Are kids not born Autistic?

They are, Hudson conceded. Almost always they are.

"Almost," Levi said in no more than a whisper. His face had drained of color.

It was the ‘almost’ that told Levi everything he needed to hear. It was Autism that the doctor feared his child had. It felt like an indictment against his child, and all Emily had done was forget a couple words and some other minor things.

This is why I shouldn’t have said anything before testing her, Hudson said. "There’s the slightest chance that she could be Autistic, yes. But the odds are so very much on your side. Her side. There’s a rare form of Autism that’s latent. A child could be as old as ten before symptoms arise."

And what are the symptoms?

Of this particular variation? They revert to infancy progressively. Forget what they know, eventually forget how to walk and speak. In essence, they age backwards.

Levi put a hand over his heart, walked away with his head down.

Buddy, Hudson said after him. Like I said, the odds are on your side. One in a million that she has it. Very rare.

One in a million for any child to have it? Or one in a million that a child who has exhibited Emily’s symptoms might have it? Which one?

That any child would have it, Hudson said regretfully.

What are the odds that she would have it after knowing what you know about her?

I couldn’t say. Sorry. Just bring her by, and after the tests you’ll have nothing to worry about. She’ll pass them. It’s far too premature to worry over this. Okay?

How can I not worry?

Chapter 2

Three weeks later, on a Friday afternoon, Hudson Gammond phoned Levi to ask if he wanted to have a beer at the town’s only bar, The Blue Diamond. Levi said sure, wondered if they could sneak a beer or two in before 7:30 (the time Andrea always had supper on the table). Hudson thought that it would be better to have dinner first so they could spend a little more time together than only an hour or so. Levi’s nerves had been on edge over the last few weeks, so he took this counter-offer as an ominous sign and worried that something was wrong.

Not at all, Hudson said and chuckled disarmingly. It’s just that I wanted to tell you something personal, and don’t want the constraints of time interfering.

Oh, okay. How does 8:30 sound?

Perfect. See you there.

The Blue Diamond was a long narrow bar bridging a pizza parlor and an Ace Hardware store. There was a long bar near the entrance with Damian behind the counter (the proprietor and only employee of the joint) and a series of tables running the length of it, a pair of billiard tables at the distant end. When Levi entered, he spied Hudson shooting pool at the farther of two tables. There were a half-dozen people at the bar, a few parties at the tables, twenty people total. He ordered a pint of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, glanced over to where his friend was lining up a shot at the billiards table, saw a nearly-empty pint glass on the rim of the table, and amended his drink order to two Sierra Nevada’s.

Drinks in hand he ambled to the back of the room. The bar smelled of cheap well liquor and beer. The juke played a loud rock song, one of Stone Temple Pilot’s lesser known songs.

Hudson Gammond was removing his checked flannel jacket when he saw his friend approaching him from across the room. They grinned at one another. The doctor draped his jacket over a nearby stool, finished off his beer just in time to shake his best friend’s hand. He accepted the proffered beer and took a cursory sip, raised his brow in surprised approval of the ale.

Shall I rack em? Levi asked. Or do you want to finish whatever it is you got going on here first?

Rack ‘em, kind sir, Hudson said and bowed before taking a second, longer drink of the ale.

So how are you, amigo? Levi said buoyantly. What’s the good word?

Eh, it’s been a slow week. Oh, Natalie Douglass came in the other day; she’s pregnant again.

Oh yeah? Good for her. And John. Hopefully they have a son this time, or they’ll be halfway to a girls’ softball team, huh?

They both laughed.

Levi set the balls up and insisted his friend break. Hudson sipped his ale, chalked his cue tip and broke with a loud cacophony of balls chiming off one another.

I’m glad you called, Levi said. It’s good to get out of the house. We should do this more often.

We should. How’s Andrea? And Emily?

Great. Both of them.

Excellent. No more experiences of Emily forgetting things?

She did the other night, but she remembered it before long. I think she’s improving, Levi said optimistically.

Outstanding. If it should start happening again, please don’t hesitate to let me know. Like I said, even though she passed my tests, that doesn’t mean it can’t be something else, or…

Or that she still might have that rare form of Autism, Levi said for his friend. I know. But that won’t be the case.

I’m sure you’re right.

To be honest, when you invited me here, I had a gut feeling that you were going to spring something on me, like some bad news regarding Emily.

No, nothing like that. Hudson took a shot, sank a solid in a corner pocket and leaned his stick against the table, stepped to a nearby stool and took a seat, gestured his friend to take a seat as well. They were thirty feet away from the nearest set of ears, and the music was loud enough to veil their conversation.

I haven’t told anyone in Youngstown what happened in my other life, Hudson said.

Your other life? You mean to tell me you’re a product of reincarnation? Levi chuckled.

Yeah, that’s exactly what I meant, Hudson said and smiled crookedly. No, I meant my life before this one in West Virginia. A neurosurgeon at NYU.

Yeah, I figured that’s what you meant.

You’ve heard the rumors, no doubt.

I especially like the one that has you harvesting organs for sale on the black market.

Hudson laughed heartily. You’re kidding me, right?

Yeah, I am, Levi said and laughed with him.

Hudson waited for his laughter to subside, smile still lingering when he said, It’s funny some of the things people come up with. His smile sobered. Why I wanted us to have some time alone tonight, is to tell you what happened. And it stays between us. I don’t want—

Levi silenced him with a hand gesture and said, No need to explain. Of course it stays between us. I won’t even tell Andrea unless you want me to.

It’s a deeply personal thing. If it was as simple as I assisted someone in suicide, it wouldn’t be nearly as personal as this.

Levi awaited with baited breath. He wouldn’t admit it, but he and Andrea had been speculating what possibly could have happened since the day they first heard about the doctor’s loss of his medical license. That was almost three years ago, and since then they concluded that they’d never know. If Hudson had wanted them to know, he’d have told them by now. But then this. And honestly, Levi wasn’t sure that he could keep this a secret from his wife. But he loved Hudson. Maybe not love, but something not far from it. He was his best friend. And it was refreshing having a dear friend who didn’t work at J&M. A way to separate his work life and personal life, by having different people in both. But how frustrating it would be knowing this great secret and having to pretend (no, having to lie) to Andrea that he has no idea what befell the once-great surgeon Doctor Hudson Gammond. He wasn’t sure he could do it. In fact, he’d have to ask Hudson if he minded if he confided the matter in Andrea.

Hudson took a long drink of his Sierra Nevada, took a deep breath, lost his nerve and finished the ale off, set the glass on a tall circular table between the two. That is some delicious beer.

Don’t I know it.

Brie and I used to have a daughter, Hudson began.

Levi’s eyes widened, lips parted. I… I’m so sorry for your loss.

Hudson nodded. His eyes at once turned glassy. "I loved her so much, Levi. I mean, of course all parents love their children, but I loved her so damned much. We both did. He met eyes with Levi. I killed her," Hudson said softly, utterly expressionless save for his sorrowful eyes.

Levi opened his mouth to speak, closed it. He couldn’t think of a single damn thing to say to that.

Of course not on purpose, Hudson said. But she died as a result of what I did, so in essence I killed her.

I’m so, so sorry to hear that. I can’t imagine the pain and guilt you must feel.

Do you believe in providence, Levi? God?

Sure.

Hudson nodded, went to take a drink from his empty glass before returning it to the table. Levi stood and gestured at Damian the bartender; once stealing his attention he signaled two fingers and pointed at an empty glass. Damian nodded and got to pouring two fresh Sierra Nevada’s.

I didn’t use to believe in God, Hudson said. I’m rooted in science, you know? But sometimes things happen and you have to wonder. What are the odds? It was a rhetorical question.

What happened?

I think we meet the people we’re supposed to meet. Call it destiny or fate, but I feel that you and I were supposed to meet, just as Brie and I were supposed to meet. Please don’t freak out at this, but our situations aren’t so unlike. We’re both smart successful guys, both have beautiful wives who are probably out of our league—no offense.

None taken. You’re right. Andrea could do a lot better than me.

And we both had but a single heir, a girl. Not that we won’t have more, but for now we’re both parents of a girl. He corrected: "Were the parents of a girl, God rest her soul."

Damian brought the two drinks and said he’d put them on Levi’s tab. He walked away.

The similarities don’t end there, Hudson said. Well, hopefully they end there. I’m sure Emily is a healthy young child. Rose was our daughter. She had Down Syndrome.

Wow, that must have been challenging. Levi shook his head internally; what a stupid thing to say.

It was. If you’d have asked me before Rose was born what my thoughts were on having a mentally retarded child, I’d have probably said I’d opt for Brie getting an abortion. Or if it was too late for that, give her up for adoption. But when your child is born, regardless of her intellect or lack of, everything changes. You see yourself in that child. It’s part of your soul. I wouldn’t give her up for the world. Rose. He had tears in his eyes. Nor would Brie.

Totally understood.

If I can put my humility aside for a moment and talk about my skill in practicing medicine, I was great at what I did. Better than great. I know it’s a conceited thing to say, but there’s a reason why I’m telling you this. I was gifted at what I do.

You still are.

I excelled at it, had a knack for it. Christ, I knew I wanted to be a neurosurgeon when I was twelve years old—me having AVM in the brain is largely responsible for my desire to study this field. Other boys wanted to be firefighters or third basemen for the Red Sox; I wanted to open people’s heads and tinker around, fix stuff. I felt it was my calling.

He took a long drink of ale, wiped his mouth dry.

"When you perform brain surgery on someone who is dying and they become healthy because of your direct actions, you couldn’t imagine how much that inflates your ego. Perform enough surgeries where your patients thrive as the result of it, and it only grows bigger. You become what I was. Or hell, maybe still am. I don’t know if I’d have called myself an egomaniac, but I suppose others may have. Maybe you’ve heard of the God Complex. What we surgeons do is grant the power of life over death. You begin to feel a little like a god. I was so confident in my abilities, my talent. When I wasn’t working my ass off in the hospital, I was researching. Constantly gathering information, learning, obsessing. It only got worse after Rose was born. My child had something wrong with her brain, and that was my field. So my focus of research turned to that of the chromosome, birth defects and the like. There are no cures for such things, as you well know, but that doesn’t mean there can never be. There was no cure for AVM either, but look how that turned out. Thank God there was no cure for AVM, or I wouldn’t have met my wife Brie."

It’s a touching story, Levi said, how you and Brie got together.

Hudson nodded with a weak grin. I read many a dissertation and thesis and essay and medical journal entry about surgeries that could potentially change the mental health of a patient. In my honest opinion, it isn’t junk science. It’s real. In our lifetimes we’ll see the mentally handicapped become cured, or some facsimile of cured. Marked improvement, at the very least.

I hope you’re right, Levi said, remembering his daughter Emily.

"I am. I am right. Hudson looked over his shoulder, as if he were about to reveal some great secret, then peered in his friend’s eyes with an intensity that would give merit and credulity to his looming assertion, no matter how absurd it might sound. Before it happened, before I performed the surgery that would inevitably kill my girl, I conferred regularly with a great neurologist, one of the best in the world. He mentored me. I won’t mention his name; not that you would know it if I did. We both had ideas on the subject. He knew my situation, that being Rose and her condition. Over the months we bounced ideas off one another. We ultimately concocted a theory. In effect, a cure. Sparing you the details of the procedure, what we did was… Hudson grasped for the best words to use, rubbing the nape of his neck with his brow drawn tightly in. Are you familiar with neurons and axons?"

Uh…

"Neurons send signals to different parts of the brain. They send these signals by means of an axon. An axon is a thin protoplasmic fiber extending from the cell body, and projects with numerous branches to other areas, sometimes nearby, sometimes in distant parts of the brain or body. Think of an axon as a wire conducting electricity. The length of an axon can be astounding; to put it in perspective, if an excitatory neuron of the cerebral cortex were magnified so that its cell body became the