Read Online Nightingale Songs by Simon Strantzas - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Simon Strantzas
Ads: Link
." He dropped to his knees and started sobbing. Fisher looked at Rose who quickly mimicked downing a drink.
Fisher checked his watch. What were they going to do with Breem? The night was barely at its halfway point and the Sanderson trial could not be interrupted.
"Help me get him to Room Three, Rose; at least until he sobers up."
"But didn't Wy say--"
"I know what he said, but what choice do we have? We can't put him back on the streets like this. Look at him."
The two of them carried the weeping Breem to the empty room furthest from Sanderson. From that room Fisher knew it was impossible to hear anything in the next. Fisher himself had taken refuge there when the noise in the lab became too much for him, and yet once he and Rose carried Breem in, the drunken man stopped crying and looked dazed-eyed at the intervening wall.
"What -- who's there?"
"Nothing to worry about, Mister Breem. Just rest and when you feel better we'll get you some breakfast."
Martin nodded slowly, then hiccoughed and lay down on his side to face the intervening wall, hugging his bruised arms to his chest.
"I tried," he said, just as Fisher and Rose were about to leave. He did not move as he spoke. "I tried to see the doctor for help, but I couldn't find him. He wasn't there."
"I'm sure you just missed him," Rose said.
"No, he wasn't there . There was no office. It was like he'd never been there. It was empty. Why wasn't he there?"
"I just spoke with Doctor Wy this evening," Fisher offered. "He's definitely still there. You must have gotten off on the wrong floor. Now, go to sleep, please."
They waited, but Martin Breem said nothing more.
Once outside the room Fisher could hear the telephone ringing, and its soft trill immediately put his teeth on edge. He winced and waited for Rose to answer it. She did so with a put-upon sigh, then after a lazy moment listening pushed a button and handed the receiver to Fisher. "It's Wy. He's checking in. Again."
"Hello, Doctor Wy ."
"Who's in the lab tonight?"
Fisher hesitated. "Pardon?" How could he already know about Breem?
"Which patient is there tonight?"
"Oh, um . . . It's Sanderson." He looked at Rose but her expression was inscrutable.
"Good, good. I have Sanderson on a new permutation of the drug. I’m hopeful he sleeps through the night on this one."
"He may, but he looks awful. Tonight his skin --"
"A side-effect, nothing more. Once it's working I'll worry about fine-tuning it. How long has he been asleep?"
"About two hours."
"And how are his readings?"
Fisher tabbed through the consoled software until he found the sensor readings.
"A little more erratic than usual but still within the normal range. He's in REM right now."
"Good. Watch him closely and report anything new to me at once. I have strong hopes this configuration will be the key."
Fisher hung up the telephone. Rose shook her head; he already knew what she was thinking.
The bulk of the nights in the lab were spent monitoring the polysomnograph, which recorded not only the subjects' heart rate but brain activity as well. The results were recorded in a series of jagged lines across the bottom of the console display, and Fisher was able to mark off any anomalies that he noticed. Despite the signs Doctor Wy warned him about he had never seen anything out of the ordinary, and as a result spent much of his time catching up on his reports and charting previous nights' sessions. He had to match the audio and video footage with the graphs and mark where any changes in one were reflected in the other. It was simply a matter of adding flags to the graph at each time something occurred, and then noting an explanation in the supplied field. The work was tedious but quiet, and as he did it Rose often spent her time cleaning the remaining two rooms and preparing them for their next occupant. She was hampered by Breem's presence in Room Three, and her nervous pacing put Fisher on edge.
"I'm going to have to wash that bedding again.
Fisher checked his watch. What were they going to do with Breem? The night was barely at its halfway point and the Sanderson trial could not be interrupted.
"Help me get him to Room Three, Rose; at least until he sobers up."
"But didn't Wy say--"
"I know what he said, but what choice do we have? We can't put him back on the streets like this. Look at him."
The two of them carried the weeping Breem to the empty room furthest from Sanderson. From that room Fisher knew it was impossible to hear anything in the next. Fisher himself had taken refuge there when the noise in the lab became too much for him, and yet once he and Rose carried Breem in, the drunken man stopped crying and looked dazed-eyed at the intervening wall.
"What -- who's there?"
"Nothing to worry about, Mister Breem. Just rest and when you feel better we'll get you some breakfast."
Martin nodded slowly, then hiccoughed and lay down on his side to face the intervening wall, hugging his bruised arms to his chest.
"I tried," he said, just as Fisher and Rose were about to leave. He did not move as he spoke. "I tried to see the doctor for help, but I couldn't find him. He wasn't there."
"I'm sure you just missed him," Rose said.
"No, he wasn't there . There was no office. It was like he'd never been there. It was empty. Why wasn't he there?"
"I just spoke with Doctor Wy this evening," Fisher offered. "He's definitely still there. You must have gotten off on the wrong floor. Now, go to sleep, please."
They waited, but Martin Breem said nothing more.
Once outside the room Fisher could hear the telephone ringing, and its soft trill immediately put his teeth on edge. He winced and waited for Rose to answer it. She did so with a put-upon sigh, then after a lazy moment listening pushed a button and handed the receiver to Fisher. "It's Wy. He's checking in. Again."
"Hello, Doctor Wy ."
"Who's in the lab tonight?"
Fisher hesitated. "Pardon?" How could he already know about Breem?
"Which patient is there tonight?"
"Oh, um . . . It's Sanderson." He looked at Rose but her expression was inscrutable.
"Good, good. I have Sanderson on a new permutation of the drug. I’m hopeful he sleeps through the night on this one."
"He may, but he looks awful. Tonight his skin --"
"A side-effect, nothing more. Once it's working I'll worry about fine-tuning it. How long has he been asleep?"
"About two hours."
"And how are his readings?"
Fisher tabbed through the consoled software until he found the sensor readings.
"A little more erratic than usual but still within the normal range. He's in REM right now."
"Good. Watch him closely and report anything new to me at once. I have strong hopes this configuration will be the key."
Fisher hung up the telephone. Rose shook her head; he already knew what she was thinking.
The bulk of the nights in the lab were spent monitoring the polysomnograph, which recorded not only the subjects' heart rate but brain activity as well. The results were recorded in a series of jagged lines across the bottom of the console display, and Fisher was able to mark off any anomalies that he noticed. Despite the signs Doctor Wy warned him about he had never seen anything out of the ordinary, and as a result spent much of his time catching up on his reports and charting previous nights' sessions. He had to match the audio and video footage with the graphs and mark where any changes in one were reflected in the other. It was simply a matter of adding flags to the graph at each time something occurred, and then noting an explanation in the supplied field. The work was tedious but quiet, and as he did it Rose often spent her time cleaning the remaining two rooms and preparing them for their next occupant. She was hampered by Breem's presence in Room Three, and her nervous pacing put Fisher on edge.
"I'm going to have to wash that bedding again.
Similar Books
