Read Online Nightingale Songs by Simon Strantzas - Free Book Online
Authors: Simon Strantzas
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activity than a simple glitch could account for, and Sanderson's appearance had taken an impossible turn for the worse. Fisher knew intellectually that the trials needed to be completed, and he had every faith Doctor Wy 's research would prove beneficial, but Rose continued to question it. He wished there were some way to stop her, but the only thing he could think to do was put on his headphones and pipe more white noise into his skull. At least it quieted the repairs that had resumed across the street.
Rose led Sanderson away to Room One for prep while Fisher finished the maintenance on the polysomnograph. It had never functioned properly and he had yet to determine why. He'd reinstalled the software numerous times without effect, and at one point the system was crashing so often that an entire week's worth of data was lost. Yet Doctor Wy was strangely unconcerned when Fisher reported it. "There's nothing to worry about," the doctor said. "It's early enough that we can sacrifice some data. Still, let me send someone to have a look." A few days later, Fisher was surprised to find at the lab's door two thuggish men with shrill East European accents claiming Doctor Wy had sent them. The men remained in the office for hours while Fisher and Rose prepared Room Three for Martin Breem's next session. Fisher began to feel concerned as the time for Breem's session drew closer and he still had no access to the control room. It wasn't until the patient arrived that he and Rose discovered the men had already gone without saying a word. "I'm sure there was a good reason," Fisher found himself trying to explain to a disbelieving Rose, but he too had difficulty with it, especially once the polysonograph began to spit lines of black code across the console. A reboot of the entire network restored functionality, but only temporarily. Still, Fisher would rather have dealt with the code than the crashing. At least with the former they could continue to work in some fashion.
After attaching the sensor wires to Sanderson's head and body, Rose closed the door to the room and then looked through its tiny window to make sure everything was in place. She then returned to the control room to join Fisher.
"He's ready to go," she said. "How are things on this end?"
Fisher entered data into the central console and tested the microphone. He walked Sanderson through a short series of exercises to test and calibrate the sensors. Then Fisher called up Room One's video camera. It had been outfitted with a light-gathering lens to boost the signal and give them a better understanding of how well the patient slept and what he or she did during surges in the graphed activity. What it showed was Sanderson lying on the bed covered in circular sensors, his sagging arms behind the back of his neck. He was looking straight up and was caught by the camera with his mouth stretched wide in mid-yawn. The lens gave the black and white image an otherworldly look, overly-heightened and enhanced, but when Fisher looked closer he saw a dark cloud over Sanderson's head, obscuring it like some dark halo.
"Is there dirt on the camera?" Rose asked, squinting at the obstruction. It was as though her words caused it to wriggle across the screen. Fisher hoped Rose had not noticed how startled he'd been by the movement.
"It's probably a fly trapped in the room."
"Should we do something?"
Fisher considered for a moment.
" Doctor Wy says we shouldn't stress the patients out once they've taken their medication. If it's still there once he falls asleep, maybe you can go in and shoo it off the lens."
Rose nodded and then looked back at the monitor.
"Hey," she said. "It's gone already."
Fisher wondered how long it would take to return. They always returned eventually.
Sleep labs are funny things, Fisher mused, sitting behind the console filling out his daily reports. One would imagine no place quieter, and yet it still was not enough. Needles scratched across paper, computer
Rose led Sanderson away to Room One for prep while Fisher finished the maintenance on the polysomnograph. It had never functioned properly and he had yet to determine why. He'd reinstalled the software numerous times without effect, and at one point the system was crashing so often that an entire week's worth of data was lost. Yet Doctor Wy was strangely unconcerned when Fisher reported it. "There's nothing to worry about," the doctor said. "It's early enough that we can sacrifice some data. Still, let me send someone to have a look." A few days later, Fisher was surprised to find at the lab's door two thuggish men with shrill East European accents claiming Doctor Wy had sent them. The men remained in the office for hours while Fisher and Rose prepared Room Three for Martin Breem's next session. Fisher began to feel concerned as the time for Breem's session drew closer and he still had no access to the control room. It wasn't until the patient arrived that he and Rose discovered the men had already gone without saying a word. "I'm sure there was a good reason," Fisher found himself trying to explain to a disbelieving Rose, but he too had difficulty with it, especially once the polysonograph began to spit lines of black code across the console. A reboot of the entire network restored functionality, but only temporarily. Still, Fisher would rather have dealt with the code than the crashing. At least with the former they could continue to work in some fashion.
After attaching the sensor wires to Sanderson's head and body, Rose closed the door to the room and then looked through its tiny window to make sure everything was in place. She then returned to the control room to join Fisher.
"He's ready to go," she said. "How are things on this end?"
Fisher entered data into the central console and tested the microphone. He walked Sanderson through a short series of exercises to test and calibrate the sensors. Then Fisher called up Room One's video camera. It had been outfitted with a light-gathering lens to boost the signal and give them a better understanding of how well the patient slept and what he or she did during surges in the graphed activity. What it showed was Sanderson lying on the bed covered in circular sensors, his sagging arms behind the back of his neck. He was looking straight up and was caught by the camera with his mouth stretched wide in mid-yawn. The lens gave the black and white image an otherworldly look, overly-heightened and enhanced, but when Fisher looked closer he saw a dark cloud over Sanderson's head, obscuring it like some dark halo.
"Is there dirt on the camera?" Rose asked, squinting at the obstruction. It was as though her words caused it to wriggle across the screen. Fisher hoped Rose had not noticed how startled he'd been by the movement.
"It's probably a fly trapped in the room."
"Should we do something?"
Fisher considered for a moment.
" Doctor Wy says we shouldn't stress the patients out once they've taken their medication. If it's still there once he falls asleep, maybe you can go in and shoo it off the lens."
Rose nodded and then looked back at the monitor.
"Hey," she said. "It's gone already."
Fisher wondered how long it would take to return. They always returned eventually.
Sleep labs are funny things, Fisher mused, sitting behind the console filling out his daily reports. One would imagine no place quieter, and yet it still was not enough. Needles scratched across paper, computer
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