Connie Willis - Passage

“Then you don’t agree with Noyes and Linden that the NDE’s a result of the human mind’s inability to comprehend its own death?”

“No, and I don’t agree with Dr. Roth’s theory that it’s psychological detachment from fear. There’s no evolutionary advantage to making dying easier or more pleasant. When the body’s injured, the brain initiates a series of survival strategies. It shuts down blood to every part of the body that can do without it, it increases respiration rate to produce more oxygen, it concentrates blood where it’s most needed—”

“And you think the NDE is one of those strategies?” Joanna asked.

He nodded. “Most patients who’ve had NDEs were revived by paddles or norepinephrine, but some began breathing again on their own.”

“And you think the NDE was what revived them?”

“I think the neurochemical events causing the NDE revived them, and the NDE is a side effect of those events. And a clue to what they are and how they work. And if I can find that out, that knowledge could eventually be used to revive patients who’ve coded. Are you familiar with the new RIPT scan?”

Joanna shook her head. “Is it similar to a PET scan?”

He nodded. “They both measure brain activity, but the RIPT scan is exponentially faster and more detailed. Plus, it uses chemical tracers, not radioactive ones, so the number of scans per subject doesn’t have to be limited. It simultaneously photographs the electrochemical activity in different subsections of the brain for a 3-D picture of neural activity in the working brain. Or the dying brain.”

“You mean you could theoretically take a picture of an NDE?”

“Not theoretically,” Richard said. “I’ve—”

The door above them opened.

They both froze.

Above them a man’s voice said, “—very productive session. Mrs. Davenport has remembered experiencing the Command to Return and the Life Review while she was dead.”

“Oh, God,” Joanna whispered, “It’s Mr. Mandrake.”

Richard craned his neck carefully around the corner.

“You’re right,” he whispered back. “He’s holding the door partway open.”

“Can he see us from there?”

He shook his head.

“Then it’s true?” a young woman’s voice said from the door.

“That’s Tish,” Joanna whispered.

Richard nodded, and they both sat there perfectly still, their heads turned toward the stairs and the door, listening alertly.

“Your whole life really does flash before you when you die?” Tish asked.

“Yes, the events of your life are shown to you in a panorama of images called the Life Review,” Mr. Mandrake said. “The Angel of Light leads the soul in its examination of its life and of the meaning of those events. I’ve just been with Mrs. Davenport. The Angel showed her the events of her life and said, ‘See and understand.’ ” Mandrake must have leaned against the door and opened it wider because his voice was suddenly louder. “See and understand we shall,” he said. “Not only shall we understand our own lives but life itself, the vast ocean of understanding and love that shall be ours when we reach eternity.”

Richard looked at Joanna. “How long is he likely to go on like that?” he whispered.

“Eternally,” she whispered back.

“So you really believe there’s an afterlife?” Tish asked.

Doesn’t she have any patients to attend to? Joanna thought, exasperated. But this was Tish, to whom flirting was as natural as breathing. She couldn’t help sending out spinnerets over any male, even Mr. Mandrake. And Richard had obviously met her. Joanna wondered how he’d managed to get away.

“I don’t think there’s an afterlife,” Mr. Mandrake said. “I know it. I have scientific evidence it exists.”

“Really?” Tish said.

“I have eyewitnesses,” he said. “My subjects report that the Other Side is a beautiful place, filled with golden light and the faces of loved ones.”

There was a pause. Maybe he’s leaving, Joanna thought hopefully.

The door opened still farther, and someone started down the stairs. Richard shot to his feet and was across the landing in an instant, pulling Joanna to her feet, pressing them both flat against the wall, his arm across her, holding her against the wall. They waited, not breathing.

The door clicked shut, and footsteps clattered down the cement stairs toward them. He’d be down to the landing in another minute, and how were they going to explain their huddling here like a couple of children playing hide-and-seek? Joanna looked questioningly at Richard. He put his finger to his lips. The footsteps came closer.

“Mr. Mandrake!” Tish’s distant voice called, and they could hear the door open again. “Mr. Mandrake! You can’t go down that way. It’s wet.”

“Wet?” Mr. Mandrake said.

“They’ve been painting all the stairwells.”

There was a pause. Richard’s arm tightened against Joanna, and then there was a sound of footsteps going back up.

“Where were you going, Mr. Mandrake?” Tish asked.

“Down to the ER.”

“Oh, then, you need to go over to Orthopedics and take the elevator. Here, let me show you the way.”

Another long pause, and the door clicked shut.

Richard leaned past Joanna to look up the stairs. “He’s gone.”

He took his arm away and turned to face Joanna. “I was afraid he was going to insist on seeing for himself if the stairs were wet.”

“Are you kidding?” Joanna said. “He’s based his entire career on taking things on faith.”

Richard laughed and started up the stairs toward the door. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she said. “He’s still out there.”

Richard stopped and looked down at her questioningly. “He said he was going down to the ER.”

She shook her head. “Not while he’s got an audience.”

Richard opened the door cautiously and eased it shut again. “You’re right. He’s telling Tish how the Angel of Light explained the mysteries of the universe to Mrs. Davenport.”

“That’ll take a month,” Joanna said. She slumped down resignedly on the step. “You’re a doctor. How long does it take for someone to starve to death?”

He looked surprised. “You’re hungry?”

She leaned her head back against the wall. “I had a Pop-Tart for breakfast. About a million years ago.”

“You’re kidding,” he said, rummaging in the pockets of his lab coat. “Would you like an energy bar?”

“You have food?” she said wonderingly.

“The cafeteria’s always closed when I try to eat there. Is it ever open?”

“No,” Joanna said.

“There don’t seem to be any restaurants around here either.”

“There aren’t,” Joanna said. “Taco Pierre’s is the closest, and it’s ten blocks away.”

“Taco Pierre’s?”

She nodded. “Fast-food burritos and E. coli.”

“Umm,” he said. He pulled out an apple, polished it against his lapel, and held it out to her. “Apple?”

She took it gratefully. “First you save me from Mr. Mandrake and then from starvation,” she said, taking a bite out of the apple. “Whatever it is you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

“Good,” he said, reaching in his other pocket. “I want you to define the near-death experience for me.”

“Define?” she said around a mouthful of apple.

“The sensations. What people experience when they have an NDE.” He pulled out a foil-wrapped Nutri-Grain bar and handed it to her. “Do they all experience the same thing, or is it different for each individual?”

“No,” she said, trying to tear the energy-bar wrapper open. “There definitely seems to be a core experience, as Mr. Mandrake calls it.” She bit the paper, still trying to tear it. “Defining it’s another matter.”