Robin Cook - Acceptable Risk

“It’s used to refer to the parts of the brain that are similar to the brains of reptiles,” François said. “Of course it is an oversimplification, but it does have some merit. Although the human brain evolved from some common distant ancestor with current-day reptiles, it’s not like taking a reptile brain and sticking a couple of cerebral hemispheres on top.”

Everybody laughed. Kim found herself laughing as well. The general mood was hard to resist.

“As far as basic instincts are concerned,” Edward said, “we humans have them just like reptiles. The difference is ours are covered by varying degrees of socialization and civilization. Translated, that means that the cerebral hemispheres have hard-wired connections that control reptilian behavior.”

Kim looked at her watch. “I really have to be going,” she said. “I’ve got a train to catch into Boston.”

With such an excuse Kim was finally able to break free from the obliging clutches of the researchers although they all encouraged her to come back. Edward walked her outside.

“Are you really on your way to Boston?” Edward asked.

“I am,” Kim said. “Last night I decided to go back to Harvard for one more try. I’d found another letter that included a reference to Elizabeth’s evidence. It gave me another lead.”

“Good luck,” Edward said. “Enjoy yourself.” He gave her a kiss and then went back into the lab. He didn’t ask about Kim’s latest letter.

Kim walked back to the cottage, feeling strangely numb from the researchers’ intense congeniality. Maybe something was wrong with her. She hadn’t liked how aloof they’d been, but now she found she didn’t like them sociable either. Was she impossible to please?

The more Kim thought about her response, the more she realized that it had a lot to do with their sudden uniformity. When she’d first met them she’d been struck by their eccentricities and quirks. Now their personalities had become blended into an amiable but bland whole that shrouded their individuality.

As Kim changed clothes for her trip into Boston, she couldn’t stop mulling over what was happening at the compound. She felt her misgiving-the very anxiety that had driven her to see Alice-on the increase again.

Ducking into the parlor to retrieve a sweater, Kim paused beneath Elizabeth’s portrait and looked up into her ancestor’s feminine yet forceful face. There was not a hint of anxiety in Elizabeth’s visage. Kim wondered if Elizabeth had ever felt as out of control as she did.

Kim got into her car and headed for the train station, unable to get Elizabeth out of her mind. It suddenly occurred to her that there were striking similarities between her world and Elizabeth’s despite the enormous gap in time. Elizabeth had to live with the continual threat of Indian attack, while Kim was conscious of the ever-present peril of crime. Back then there had been the mysterious and frightful menace of smallpox while today it was AIDS. In Elizabeth’s time there was a breakdown of the Puritan hold on society, with the emergence of unbridled materialism; today it was the passing of the stability of the Cold War with the emergence of fractious nationalism and religious fundamentalism. Back then there was a confusing and changing role for women; today it was the same.

“The more things change, the more they stay the same,” Kim said, voicing the old adage.

Kim wondered if all these similarities could have anything to do with the message she’d come to believe Elizabeth was trying to send her over the centuries. With a shudder, Kim wondered if a fate similar to Elizabeth’s was in store for her. Could that be what Elizabeth was trying to tell her? Could it be a warning?

Increasingly upset, Kim made a conscious effort to stop ruminating obsessively. She was successful until she got on the train. Then the thoughts came tumbling back.

“For goodness’ sake!” Kim said aloud, causing the woman sitting next to her to eye her with suspicion.

Kim turned to face out the window. She chided herself for allowing her active imagination too much free rein. After all, the differences between her life and Elizabeth’s were far greater than any similarities, particularly in the area of control. Elizabeth had had very little control over her destiny. She had been essentially coerced at a young age into what was actually an arranged marriage, and she did not have access to birth control. In contrast, Kim was free to choose whom she would marry, and was free to control her body insofar as reproduction was concerned.

This line of thinking kept Kim comfortable until the train neared North Station in Boston. Then she began to wonder if she was as free as she’d like to believe. She reviewed some of the major decisions in her life, such as becoming a nurse instead of pursuing a career in art or design. Then she reminded herself that she was living with a man in a relationship that was becoming disturbingly similar to the one she’d had with her father. On top of that, she reminded herself that she was saddled with a research lab on her property and five researchers living in the family house-none of which had been her idea.

The train lurched to a stop. Mindless of her immediate environment, Kim walked to the subway. She knew what the problem was. She could almost hear Alice’s voice in the background, telling her it was her personality. She didn’t have appropriate self-esteem; she was too pliant; she thought of other people’s needs and ignored her own. And all these conspired to constrain her freedom.

Such an irony, Kim thought. Elizabeth’s personality, with her assertiveness and decisiveness, would have been perfect for today’s world whereas in her own time it undoubtedly contributed to her untimely death. Kim’s personality, on the other hand, which was more dutiful and submissive rather than assertive and decisive, would have been fine in the seventeenth century but was not working out so well today.

With renewed resolve to unravel Elizabeth’s story, Kim boarded the subway and traveled to Harvard Square. Within fifteen minutes of her arrival she was back in Mary Custland’s office in the Widener Library, waiting for Mary to finish reading Jonathan’s letter.

“This house of yours must be a treasure of memorabilia,” Mary said, looking up from the page. “This letter is priceless.” She immediately called Katherine Sturburg to her office and had her read it.

“What a delight,” Katherine said when she was finished.

Both women told Kim that the letter was from a period of Harvard history of which there was scant material. They asked if they could copy it, and Kim gave them permission.

“So we have to find a reference to ‘Rachel Bingham,’” Mary said, sitting down at her terminal.

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Kim said.

Mary entered the name while Kim and Katherine looked over her shoulder. Kim found herself with crossed fingers without having been conscious of doing it.

Two Rachel Binghams flashed onto the screen, but both were from the nineteenth century and could have had no association with Elizabeth. Mary tried a few other tricks, but there was nothing.

“I’m awfully sorry,” Mary said. “Of course you realize that even if we did find a reference, the problem of the 1764 fire would still be a rather insurmountable difficulty.”

“I understand,” Kim said. “I really didn’t expect to find anything, but, as I said on my first visit, I feel obligated to follow up on any new leads.”

“I’ll be sure to go through my sources with the new name,” Katherine said.

Kim thanked both women and left. She took the subway back to North Station and had to wait for a train to Salem. As she stood on the platform she vowed to redouble her efforts at sorting the impossible jumble of papers in the castle over the next couple of days. Once she started back to work she’d have little opportunity to work on it except on her days off.