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Dorning burst into the room carrying a tray full of food, his notebook tucked firmly under his arm.
“Good morning, Percival,” he said brightly. “I made your favorite breakfast in celebration of your return. Scrambled eggs with black pepper, fried ham, black coffee, unbuttered toast. See? I remembered.” He laughed lightly as he set the tray near the side of the bed. “Sorry to wake you so early but I could hardly sleep last night. I told Natalie I’d give you your breakfast so we can talk in private. I only have about a million questions.” He pulled up a chair next to the bed as the figure in it stirred; he sat down, then opened his notebook and uncapped his pen.
Miguel raised his head and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was six a.m.
He sat up abruptly. “Wait a minute. What happened yesterday? Did I have an accident? Is my bike okay?” He looked at the breakfast tray, then back at Dorning. “Hey, did you just call me Percival again?”
Dorning’s bright expression faded. “You mean you’re not?”
“No.”
“You were last night.”
He took a sharp breath, went wide-eyed. “I was?”
Dorning slowly nodded.
“You mean it’s really starting to work?”
“Yes, but apparently you’ve reverted back this morning.” He looked away, clearly disappointed. “I suppose I should have anticipated that possibility. It could take a while for the implanted memories to fully assert themselves.” He considered the boy with renewed interest. “Not to worry. I’m sure the professor will return. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me how you felt yesterday? It could be nearly as interesting to record your impressions of the events.” He sat with pen poised over the open notebook.
“My impressions?”
“Yes. How did you feel as the professor came back? What did you think?”
Miguel pulled his pillow into his lap as he tried to remember. “All I know is I was riding my bike real fast, trying to get home before it got dark, when I must have hit something because when I looked up, my bike was gone and some man was talking to me in the grass. He brought me home to tell you I should go to doctor because I might have been hurt. But when I got to the front door . . . when I got to the front door . . .”
Dorning finished his furious writing, and then looked up at the boy for more to write. “Yes? What happened when you got to the door?”
“I don’t remember. It was like I was just, I don’t know . . . gone, I guess.”
“Huh,” Dorning said, and wrote down the boy’s remark. “And when were you aware that you were yourself again?”
“When you woke me up just now.”
“You mean you have no memory whatsoever of the time in between, when the professor was in control?”
Miguel shook his head.
Dorning tapped his chin with the pen. “Hmm. I would have at least expected some vague or confusing memories during the transitional phase, but apparently that’s not the case. The transition is apparently quite abrupt. Interesting.” He finished writing and closed the notebook, no longer looking dejected. “Well! I’m glad you did come back. Your remarks add a great deal to my research.”
The boy was silent a moment, his eyes wide again. “So . . . that’s it? That’s how it’s going to be?”
“What do you mean? I don’t understand.” He set the notebook and pen aside.
“I mean, every time the professor takes over my brain, I’m just going to be gone? Like I don’t even exist anymore? Like I’m . . . dead?”
Dorning looked alarmed. “Dead? Hopefully you won’t be dead. The professor would be dead too. You’re in this together now, you know.”
“But what happens to me?”
“I’m afraid I still don’t follow you.”
“What about my own future?”
Dorning snorted in disdain. “Your future? What future did you have being homeless and uneducated? Chances are you wouldn’t have lived to see middle age. The professor’s future will be a wonderful future for anyone. Consider yourself fortunate.”
Miguel’s chin began to tremble. “I wanted my own future, not the professor’s. I don’t want to be gone like that. I want to live!”
Dorning looked thoughtful. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I suspect it’s possible your personality will reemerge briefly on occasion, at least until the professor’s memories are fully integrated. Your memories aren’t gone forever yet, just subjugated. At least that’s the indication I have from my animal tests, but frankly that’s only conjecture. We’ll find out soon enough, I suppose.”
“What does that mean? That the professor and I will share my brain?”
“At first, yes, to a small degree. But eventually the professor will be the primary consciousness as long as we keep his memory associations strong, which we will.” Dorning looked puzzled. “Why are you asking me these questions at this late date? I’m sure I made all this perfectly clear to you when you agreed to participate.”
Miguel crawled to the edge to the bed, his chin still trembling. “No, you didn’t, or if you did, I didn’t understand. I thought it was just going to make me smart like the professor and I would remember some of his old memories.”
“In a way, that’s exactly true.”
The boy pounded his pillow. “But it’s not! It’s not! I don’t remember anything about last night! I don’t want to live like that!” He sobbed, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. “I would rather die. I would. Can’t you at least make it so the professor and I share my brain? Can’t you? Please?”
Dorning saw the boy’s agitated state and considered the ramifications of his threat.
His voice took on a reassuring tone. “Very well, if that’s what you wish. You and the professor can share. I will plan another operation for you to make that possible.”
The boy looked skeptical. “You can really do that? Are you sure?”
“Oh, absolutely. It’s actually quite easy. I’d prefer not to, but if you insist, I will.”
“When?”
“Soon. Very soon, all right? I promise. I just need some time to prepare the lab, that’s all.”
The boy sat back and calmed down. “Okay. You’re not kidding me now, are you?”
“No, of course not.” Dorning kept his perfect poker face. “I would never mislead you about something like that.”
Miguel nodded in relief, then decided to make one more demand, encouraged by his apparent victory. “Okay. And another thing. I want to go see my mother again. I haven’t seen her in two weeks.”
“I’m sorry, Miguel. I’m afraid that request is totally out of the question right now. But I will do this—I’ll make absolutely sure she knows where you are and that you’re perfectly safe. I can even provide for her financially to some degree until she’s able to provide for herself. How’s that?”
The boy thought the offer through. “Okay. But I would still rather see her myself.”
“And someday you most certainly will, once things have settled down a bit. It won’t be too much longer, I promise.” Dorning waved a hand, anxious to change the subject. “Say, why don’t you eat now? We can’t let all this good food go to waste. Besides, you must be getting hungry.”
The boy sniffed, wiping his eyes one more time. “Yeah, I am.” He picked up the fork from the tray and looked down at the food. “So this is what the professor used to eat?” He made a sour face.
“Yes. It was his favorite breakfast, but unfortunately it was a bit too spicy for his delicate digestion as he grew older. I know he missed it, so I thought it would be a pleasant surprise.”
The boy looked sad then took a bite of the eggs. His sour face returned.
“Guess I better get used to it.”
Dorning got up to leave. He smiled cordially as he backed away towards the door. “See? Things aren’t so bad. I think all we really need is a just little time to adjust to all these changes, Miguel. Just give it some time, and I’m sure you’ll agree everything has worked out fine.”
He left the boy to the professor’s meal, relieved by the knowledge there shouldn’t be too many more relapses back to Miguel. And when they did occur again, his fervent hope was that they would be brief.