Between Two Minds: Awakening Read online

  Her patented scowl conveyed her disagreement even before she responded, “I don’t know who you’re quoting, Charlie, but those young adults are fighting for peace. That’s pretty big.”

  I couldn’t help but feel inadequate. “Look, I know you have all this knowledge and experience since you’ve been to college for a year, but it didn’t work out for me. That doesn’t mean it can’t work out for us. This is the best I got.”

  “I really wish you would have talked to me before enlisting, but I guess it’s too late now. If there’s anything I’ve learned in the last year of being apart, it’s that I know I want to be with you. Forever. But I need you to promise me one thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t let the marines—don’t let war change you. I fell in love with that big-headed, little boy who was brave enough to break the rules to bring me a football. I need that same kid to bring himself back home to me in one piece when he’s done serving.”

  “I’m counting on it. I promise.”

  That summer, we were inseparable, possibly to a fault. Then she drove me to the bus stop where I’d be picked up for boot camp.

  As we lined up next to all of the other couples who were saying goodbye to each other, she leaned in. “Charlie, you know I love you, right?”

  “Uh, yes.”

  “And you love me, too, right?”

  “Of course!”

  “Good. You’re going to be a father.”

  Her words hit me like a right hook from a heavyweight, and in that moment, I wanted to ditch the marines altogether to take care of her.

  “Holy shit! I mean, uh, really? Oh. Oh wow! But I’m leaving, and I won’t be able to…”

  She shook her head and then nodded. “I knew once the test came back positive what it meant for us, for me. I can handle it.”

  “What are you going to do about school?”

  “I’m looking at Johnson College. My credits should transfer, and they’ve got a decent chemistry program.”

  “You’re coming home? Dammit! One of the main reasons I enlisted was to make something of myself while you were away, and now it’s my fault you won’t get to graduate from a university!”

  “Don’t worry, Charlie. I got this. It’s why I waited until now to tell you. You just focus on deploying and coming back alive to help me raise our daughter. By the way, I like the name Lucille. What do you think?”

  Overwhelmed, I just nodded and took Sarah in my arms, and I held her so close and so tight. Tears flowed from both of us while in the distance, I heard the rumble of the bus.

  “Ten-hut! All recruits, line up for roll call!”

  With one last hug and kiss, I said goodbye to Sarah and our little peanut and headed for the bus line. Even after all my preparation, dread was growing deep within me. It wasn’t until I was already on the bus and it pulled off that I realized I wasn’t scared of boot camp, deploying, or war. The thing that terrified me the most was becoming a father, and as awful as it sounded in my head, part of me never wanted to come home to see what kind of failure I would be.

  My reminiscing on the balcony was suddenly interrupted by the buzz of my netphone. Reading the message, a cold feeling overcame me at what it said.

  The job’s been moved up to tonight. Prep the car and pick up the package at location X.

  “Shit!”

  I put my smoke out on the ledge, chugged the beer and tossed it in the bin, then dashed inside. I grabbed my coat off the dining room chair and my keys and wallet from the kitchen counter. I thought I would have at least another day to figure out how I was going to break it to the Padre that I needed to quit, but it looked like I was going to have to wing it when I saw him. The whole thing didn’t sit well with me. The invincibility I felt running jobs with him in the past was quickly fading, and in its place was a growing fear of what might happen.

  “You really think he’s just going to let you walk away?” Sarah’s words echoed in my head as I walked through the front door.

  The door closed behind me, and I made a vow to myself.

  “No matter what, I’m going to walk!”

  Chapter 10:

  One Step Forward

  “No matter what, I’m going to walk!”

  I had said those words to my mom hundreds of times when I was younger and never understood just how upset it made her.

  She had scowled and given me a somewhat canned response each time. “Honey, you were just born with different abilities. You’re fine the way you are.”

  But then the tears had followed. As strong as she had been, she’d cried. Not in front of me, but I’d known she had been doing it—in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in the basement. Somehow that hadn’t stopped me from saying it for a couple more years.

  At school, the other kids played kickball, tag, and soccer. While I had gotten good in a wheelchair, I hadn’t been able to compete with their speed and agility. The only other kids in wheelchairs were mentally challenged on top of being unable to walk. I had felt for them, but it was difficult for me to cope, not really fitting in with any of the groups at school.

  And so I’d kept telling my mom that someday I would walk. And she’d kept crying.

  Things got really bad once Dad left, and then, I’d known I had to stop saying that. I’d known I couldn’t keep telling her something that wasn’t in the cards. I couldn’t keep telling her something for which she felt responsible, and keep making her cry. She’d had enough on her plate, taking care of me. That was why her reaction had been so shocking when, years later, I told her that I was saving for a mind migration.

  “Mom, I’m going to get legs. I’m going to walk.”

  “Oh, honey, you know we’ve talked about this before.”

  “No, Mom, did you see the news? They successfully migrated a person’s mind into another person’s body. He was in a motorcycle accident and couldn’t walk like me. After the operation, he can walk in his new body. His name is Cameron Walsh.”

  “Ryan, those types of procedures cost a lot of credits, and I’m sure they’re very dangerous.”

  “Mom, it’s very dangerous not being able to walk. Look how hard you have had to work just keep it all together for us. If I got a new body with legs, I could finally take care of myself. I could even take care of you!”

  “That’s sweet, but I don’t want you going and getting your hopes up.”

  “Mom, remember when you said I could do everything I needed to? Remember?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I need to do this. Even if I have to save up for my whole life, I need to do this for me, and I need to do this for you. I want to walk, and I’m pretty sure this is the only real way. I promise you that, one day, I’ll be in a body that can walk.”

  Ten years later, I was keeping that promise.

  “That’s it, Ryan. Carefully lift yourself out of the chair using the two balance beams.”

  The day had finally come where I could attempt the first steps of my life. I was more than a nervous wreck, but considering how well I was functioning otherwise, I was somehow also fairly confident. The legs and feet were the last to function even for normal migrators because your new brain had enough trouble reprocessing memories and thoughts and keeping vital organs functioning. Sending messages all the way down to your legs and feet wasn’t as high a priority, so it just took time. On top of that, the area of my original brain that would have been responsible for walking had never needed to develop, so my mind migrated with a stunted ability to tap into that part of my new brain.

  I had gone through the battery of exercises to strengthen the connections between my brain and my lower half. But engaging everything to take actual steps was another task in and of itself. I remembered the woman who had fallen when I was zooming through the hallway on my way to the migration. Being in that same position, I realized that the hardest pa
rt was mentally putting forth the effort. The ground was padded, and to some extent, they didn’t mind you falling if it helped you on your path to walking again.

  I gripped the balance beams hard, and with as much strength as I could muster from my core, quads, and hips, I thrusted into the erect position. I shook a bit, and my weight was heavy on my arms, but then my joints and bones settled into the gravity pulling me down, and the result was clear.

  “I’m doing it! I’m standing!”

  “Good job, Ryan! Now, focus! Lead with your hands and take a step.”

  With both arms, I reached out as far as I could on the beam and leaned slightly to the left to force my bodyweight from both feet to just the left. I engaged my abs and hips again, but to simply lift my right foot off of the ground—first the heel, then the ball of my foot, and then the toes. Once it was free from the ground, time slowed down. I could feel every inch of movement. I could feel my toe pointing up to allow my heel to plant solidly on the floor, and I was about to make contact with the floor and complete my very first step. Suddenly, a tingling sensation shot from my toe to my brain, and it surprised me enough to make me lose my balance.

  “Ryan, hold onto the beams!”

  But it was too late. I was falling.

  Thud!

  “Ow!”

  The technicians swooped in and helped me back up to the support beams. I repeated the process five or six times with each attempt ending up on the floor one way or another. Every time, the shock came from my toe and ended up in my brain.

  “Your mind is struggling to process the steps,” a voice expounded from across the room.

  “What?”

  “If you had developed the ability to walk even at an early age and then lost that ability, you wouldn’t notice that feeling when you’re about to press your foot against the ground.” Dr. Little clarified.

  “So what does it mean? How can someone like me learn to walk?”

  “You’ll need to get used to it, Ryan. A foreign mind is sending new signals to the feet of your host. The body doesn’t exactly know how to process these, and certainly isn’t efficient with the information. Some of it fizzles as it makes its way to your M1. Sorry, your primary motor cortex. Also, some of the information even gets scrambled.”

  She looked around for a moment.

  “Picture the path from your brain to your toe as a two-lane highway. After all of the prep work you’ve done, your mind is good at telling your brain to send signals to your toes. Those seem to be just fine. But it’s the return trip where the highway is under construction. The only way to smooth out the path is to keep sending signals over it. So, if you can fight through the sensation, you can force the connections to be made more effectively and consistently each and every time. Give it another few tries, but instead of being apprehensive to the tingling feeling, anticipate it and embrace it. Force your body, brain, and mind to get on the same page.”

  “I can do that.”

  I grabbed the beams tightly again. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes to filter out all distractions. I picked my right leg up and moved it through the air. Planting my heel on the ground, I could feel the limpness shoot through my body all the way to my brain.

  “I can feel the sensation.”

  “Come on, Ryan, you can get through it,” a tech encouraged me.

  The numbness was getting stronger, but I was able to place more weight on my foot as I rolled to the ball of it.

  “That’s it, Ryan. You’re almost there! And…and…and…”

  Toes…planted!

  “I took the step. I took my very first step ever! Oh my god! I did it!” I laughed hysterically as tears began to run down my face.

  “Okay, Ryan. You’re doing great. Try to take the next step.”

  “I can do that!”

  Transferring all my weight to my right foot, I lifted my left leg slowly. I went to place my left heel onto the padded floor and could feel the moment of initial impact like before. But something was a bit off. When I tried to move weight onto that ankle, a new sensation filled my mind. It reminded me of one of my dreams where that ankle had been injured. It felt painful for just a second, and then at that moment, both my legs became possessed.

  “Ryan?”

  I fully planted my left foot.

  Then my right.

  Then my left.

  Then my right.

  Dr. Little was astounded. “Oh my god, Ryan. What has gotten into you?”

  “I have no idea, but this is amazing!”

  “But be careful as you come to the end of the balance—”

  I walked past the end of the beams and onto the recovery room floor. I was still walking! The technicians were speechless while they tried to keep up with me.

  Left!

  Right!

  Left!

  Right!

  Then another urge took hold of me. “I’ve always wanted to jump.”

  “Ryan, no!”

  But again, Dr. Little was too late. I began jumping like a fool.

  Up!

  Down!

  Up!

  Down!

  “Ronnie and Suzie, can you please help Ryan back to the balance beams before he hurts himself?”

  The technicians came toward me, but I decided it was time for my first game of tag.

  “You can’t catch me!”

  They were definitely not ready for the moves I was putting on them. “What’s a matter? Too slow?”

  “Dammit, Ryan, you’re going to hurt yourself. Now stop it!”

  Just as the fun was reaching a pinnacle, a voice popped into my head. Who the hell is Ryan?

  Instantly, my legs weakened and gave out. Luckily, I was able to catch myself on the padded floor without much incident. Ronnie and Suzie were close to follow, and they helped me back to my wheelchair.

  “That’s enough for today, Ryan. Let’s get you back to your room to rest.”

  The technicians wheeled me through the hallway, and Dr. Little followed.

  Still excited, I tried to explain what happened. “It was the strangest thing. At first, I couldn’t walk without falling. Then I could do anything I wanted with my legs—walk, jump, run. Then my legs felt like Jell-O again. Have you ever seen anything like that before?”

  Dr. Little was quick to respond. “No. Nothing to that extent. We’ve had quick learners, but you walked without the slightest limp or stutter in your step. You jumped on day one. You were dodging physically fit techs. I’ll need to look at the mind migration historical journals, but that seems like a first to me.”

  “What could cause something like that? What would make me special?” I was seriously at a loss.

  “My hypothesis is that you experienced a rapid neural expansion. Your stunted mind must have figured out a way to harness your now functional M1. It sent a flood of information that your brain processed like autopilot.”

  “Okay.” I only sort of followed her logic.

  “To that end, the M1 did its best to process the information as it came through. It did an exceptional job for thirty seconds or so, but then it appears that the information being sent across your brain was interrupted or stopped.”

  “Okay, so what does that mean?”

  “Think of your primary motor cortex as a fire. In fully functional adults, it burns bigger and hotter the more activity they do, playing basketball or going for a jog. The fire roars because a lot of information is being processed through it. Move the left leg here. Move the right arm there. Twist your torso. All of it happening in milliseconds. When they stop those activities, the fire dies down and resumes a normal burn.”

  It was starting to make sense, so I nodded for her to continue.

  “Well, your M1 had only handled things from your waist up your whole life. It certainly didn’t have to manage stre
nuous activities. However, the exercising you attempted today acted as a catalyst. Like lighter fluid squirted onto a camp fire, it burned bright and hot for several seconds, but once the fuel—or in this case, the information—ceased, you reverted back to your post-migration state of just learning to walk. You collapsed.”

  “What would cause the information surge? Why did it stop?”

  “My guess is that your will to walk is strong, and the pre-migration work you did helped to store up your mind’s best guess at walking. Turns out your mind’s best guess at walking was spot on. That said, you clearly need more time for a more consistent experience. We’ll continue with the sessions to eventually sync everything up for the long run.”

  Once in my room, I asked to try standing up and sitting on my bed. The technicians helped me just a little, but I was able to do the rest.

  “See, I’m getting the hang of this.”

  Ronnie and Suzie snickered as they left the room.

  “Wow, what a day. My very first steps. My very first jumps! And tag!” But then I was reminded of the voice that preceded my collapse. Who the hell is Ryan?

  Whose voice was that? More importantly, why was I hearing voices at all? It was never mentioned as part of the process, and the voices seemed to start right after I spoke with Tony and agreed to ignore the dreams.

  Dreams.

  And now voices.

  I had successfully ignored the dreams for days, but I felt like it was finally time to look at my journal app to see if any of it made sense.

  Journal Entry #1

  The first bits of consciousness that I can recall post-migration are a compilation of emotions and imagery that seemed foreign to me. If it was a dream, it felt awfully real.

  There was a blinding light. I awoke to being outside. I had to run. I felt like I had done something bad, but was pretty sure really bad people were after me. Then I was manually driving. Driving fast. Then I was in an ambulance. Did I get into an accident? That would make sense since I didn’t know how to manually drive.

  Journal Entry #2

  I had another weird dream.

  I was working. I was manually driving again. The air smelled gross. Was I smoking? A large abandoned building. Maybe a factory? When I went inside, it smelled gross. Something bad might happen in there.