Part 6 (1/2)
”Twelve thirty P.M.”
Kanan looked out the window. The noon sun was fighting the rain clouds. The sight took him aback.
”How did you get here?” Jo said.
”I guess-I drove.”
”Ambulance.”
He frowned in confusion and surprise.
Jo lowered her voice. ”In the ambulance, I told you about the head injury. You said, 'They'll say it was self-inflicted.'”
He didn't reply, but instead took out his phone. ”Excuse me. I need to call my wife.”
”Look at your dialed calls register.”
He thumbed the keypad. He saw the dozens of calls he'd made and looked for a second like he'd been hit between the eyes with a rock. Jo let silence settle on the room.
”Who's going to say your injury is self-inflicted, Ian? And why?”
He stuck his phone in his pocket and turned toward the door. ”I need to leave.”
Jo stepped firmly into his path. ”What happened to you?”
He stopped, but just barely. ”Please excuse me. But I'm going now.”
”What happened overseas? How did you get those gouges in your arm? Tell me. Because I can still section you. And the cops won't hesitate to arrest you.”
He raised an eyebrow. ”You're a spitfire. Ever been a drill sergeant?”
”I didn't need to be. I'm mean enough to keep soldiers in line without having to pull rank.” She hoped that never got back to the man in her life. ”Now tell me-what happened to you?”
Kanan's face tightened, and for a moment she thought he was going to bat her aside. Then the sad mixture of pain and irony spread across his face. ”The real question is, what's going to happen to me?”
Her shoulders inched down. ”You're going to stay the same person. This won't affect your intelligence or personality. It won't affect your existing memories. It won't erase any of the knowledge and skills you have.”
”I'll still be able to drive a car and skin a deer.”
”Yes.”
”I'll know everybody? I'll still recognize them?”
”Yes. This isn't dementia. It's not Alzheimer's.”
”But my brain won't record.”
”In essence, no.”
”So it's all live performance. Nothing goes into long-term storage. I have no hard drive.”
He didn't cry. He merely put his phone away. ”That other doctor”-he glanced at the door, indicating the departed Simioni-”he split so you'd stay and have to explain it to me.”
”I'm a shrink. I'm supposed to be good at handling-”
”People whose lives have been destroyed?”
”Yes.”
He held still for a moment and let out a low nonlaugh. ”Thumbs-up for honesty. What do you do-you're a lone ranger, riding around committing wackos on the fly?”
”I'm a forensic psychiatrist. And I'm on call for emergencies, such as the one you had at the airport today.”
”Forensic ...”
”That doesn't mean I work CSI. It means psychiatric work that intersects with the law.”
”Did I break any laws today?” he said.
”The cops think so.”
She told him about tackling Officer Paterson on the plane and being Tasered. It was all news to him.
”They out there waiting to arrest me?” he said.
”They're out there. I've deterred them from arresting you for now.”
”I don't feel like I'm forgetting anything.”
”What do you feel is happening?”
He eased a glance at her. ”You sure sound like a shrink.”
She spread her hands and shrugged.
He exhaled. ”It's just going to dissolve, isn't it? Everything I see and hear. This conversation. The future.” He looked out the window. A splinter of sunlight cut silver across his face. ”I'm going to live in a continuous present.”
Jo thought about it. ”I guess that's one way to look at it.”
”Will I remember big things? Who's president? An asteroid smas.h.i.+ng into the earth?”
He wouldn't remember being elected president. Every moment would be fresh, every experience new, every person he met a stranger.
”What do I do? How do I cope?”
”You'll need to work out strategies to help remind yourself where you are, where you're going, where you've just been. Notes. Photos. A PDA. Keep a camera, pen, and paper with you.”