3
ake up in a few hours from what I can only hope is a nominal dosage of sedative to find herself in a strange room with her husband laying on the table next to her in a coma."
"And you," Dorian insisted, "will be nowhere to be found. Let's lift her." They transferred Dorian's wife, Tabitha, onto one of the cold metal tables.
Things had calmed down since Dorian's frantic entrance and Cedric took this opportunity to try talking to him again. He hadn't attempted this since the phone call from Dorian that had woken him up in the first place.
Cedric steadied his hands and began working at a much slower pace. "We're not ready for this," he said.
Dorian was back over at the keyboard now and the rattling of his fingers was louder than his response. "We've had successful runs before," he said.
Cedric was relieved to hear that the edge was gone from Dorian's voice. This was the closest thing to a rational sentence he had heard from his friend all night. "We've had successful runs in removing small amounts of emotional trauma from young adults," Cedric said.
"See? Successful runs," Dorian said, index finger repeatedly tapping at the enter key.
"But the process we've developed," Cedric tried again, "allows an audio-visual exploration of the frontal lobe by another person. You're talking about hooking up and exploring the temporal lobe which..." Dorian swiveled on his chair and stared at Cedric. Cedric stopped talking under his eyes. But once Dorian had turned back to the keyboard Cedric felt himself needing to speak again. "There just has to be an easier way."
"Nope," Dorian said, his belief that this was his only recourse caused the word to become clipped and harsh in his mouth.
"You two are having problems but that doesn't mean-"
"I'm losing her," Dorian said. As soon as Cedric lifted his head he was sorry he had done so. The blinking screens, Dorian's waxy eyes, even the coffee stain down his front all revealed an inner weakness in Dorian that C