ref: 7f2f5eb9c1a580e7d7fbfb821507cd982b2efcf9
dir: /troff.4ed/0210.ms/
.LP .ce .ps 16 .CW DISSIPATION .R .ps 8 .CW tags: 1963, plinth_mold, saito .R .PP .ps 10 Click, click, click. Twelve cubes of light, each flipping past the other, rotating into the slot left vacant by its predecessor. The purpose of this orchestration is to massage the cortex with electromagnetic oscillations in the frequency range of 8\-12Hz. Patients appear to derive the most benefit, Saito has noted, from working through the entire routine, pausing rhythmically at the completion of each sequence to allow the electronics to catch up with the procession of their focus. .PP .ps 10 But what are the effects, he wonders, if the patient identifies his therapeutic parlor trick and susses out the mechanism? What happens when the patient's conscious mind tracks the incoming data with greater precision than the machinery? Click, click, click. Saito leans forward. Perhaps this particular arrangement of cubes is novel. He presses a button, freezing the arrangement in memory. To be studied later. .PP .ps 10 He is pleased that the treatment has proven efficacious. For the vast majority of his patients, anyway. Ironic, then, that he should feel so powerless to alter the degree and substance of his own compulsive addictions. Contemplating this, Saito produces a pocket lighter from his coat and sears the flesh of his right hand. He stifles a primal yelp, burying his shame in his handkerchief (not only the shame, but the evidence\(emself\-immolation is an offense not only against the state, but against Saito's ancestors, for historical reasons peculiar to his family). He then re\-calibrates his equipment for the next patient. .PP .ps 10 The work he is carrying out could revolutionize treatment of numerous conditions, given the eventual push into mass production. For uncounted moments Saito shifts out of time, is aloft, floating on the awareness of what he is so very close to achieving. He finds the sensation is fleeting. .PP .ps 10 Saito adjusts his .I coiffure .R and smooths down the front of his white coat, feeling his sweat cool against the skin of his wrists. If anyone has seen him burning himself, it could result in the loss of his job. .PP .ps 10 But of what use is a job, at this point in his life? They've made his impossible. .PP .ps 10 He has been forced to accept a number of compromises that limit the efficacy of his design. He doubts that the latest cubes, in their present form, will do much more than narcotize. Hypnotize. Amounting to nothing more than an entertainment. Saito ruminates on the shambles of his career before taking the lighter back out of his pocket and burning several additional black marks into the flesh of his hand. He tries to ignite his skin completely, but succeeds only in singeing the sleeve of his coat. With the smoke, he imagines his .I kami .R slinking up to the ceiling, dispersing across its surface, crawling in several directions at once towards the duct work and vents. .PP .ps 10 A knock\(eman abrupt punctuation to his thoughts\(emand the door swings open, pulling his .I kami .R back down to the floor. So, they had seen him after all. He knows now that the charade is concluded. His work is finished. .PP .ps 10 As a result of his actions his patients will suffer. But then, patients are always suffering. .PP .ps 10 With his expulsion, Saito's role in the project will be expunged. Because his research is considered a state secret, there will be no one to complain on his behalf. His data will be reclaimed and filtered for an executive summary. And then, he suspects, quietly abandoned, as it is clear that the process of weaponization would exceed the available funding. This, at least, is some small cause for relief. .PP .ps 10 Still, he feels as if his .I kami .R has dissipated. There is nothing left for them to kill. .PP .ps 10 This thought compels him to emit a tiny laugh. The thought dies, strangled stillborn in his throat. .PP .ps 10 Saito flinches as the door swings inward. .PP .ps 10 Into the room bounds Plinth Mold, flanked by two of his most trusted attorneys. .PP .ps 10 "Relax, Saito," says Plinth. "Let's talk patents. I'm interested in what you've been working on up here, all these years."