Christa Faust - Fringe The Zodiac Paradox

“Fascinating,” Walter said, utterly charmed by this lovely and studious young lady. “My colleague and I just presented a very well-received paper on hepatic microsomal drug-binding sites. Have you had any success using biofeedback to regulate other kinds of liver function? Perhaps we could compare notes sometime.” He reached into his pocket. “Necco wafer?”

“Walter...” Bell warned.

“Is the good doctor in?” Nina asked, suppressing a grin.

May reached out and selected a clove-flavored purple wafer from the roll. That was his favorite.

“Thank you,” she said, popping the candy into her mouth with what Walter swore was a flirtatious expression. Though he was the first to admit he was often wrong about such things. “Doctor Rayley is in the lab working on a new experiment. You can wait for him in the observation room, if you’d like. This way please.”

At that point, Walter was prepared to follow May anywhere, but he was disappointed to find that she had no intention of joining them. She just showed them to a door at the end of a long hallway, and then returned to her desk.

“I think I’m in love,” Walter stage-whispered to Bell, taking a lime Necco wafer off the roll for himself, before putting the package back in his pocket.

“I hardly think this is the time for sexual liaisons, Walter,” Bell said.

Nina said nothing, but her subtle smile and arched brow made Bell stammer and blush.

“Well,” he said. “I mean...”

“Come on,” she said, opening the door and ushering the two men inside.

The long narrow room reminded Walter of the viewing area adjacent to an old-fashioned operating theater, where medical students would observe various procedures, back before sterilization and the invention of closed circuit television cameras. There were three rows of stadium-like riser seats facing a large one-way pane the size of a movie screen. And, like an old-fashioned operating theater, there was a small group of enraptured young people with notebooks—students, presumably— observing the procedure occurring on the other side of the glass.

Walter stepped up to the glass to see what was going on in the adjacent room.

There were two subjects, both male and Caucasian, but that’s where the similarities ended. The man on the left was young and gangly, with an unfortunate beaky profile and long, sandy hair. The man on the right was older and pudgy, with a gleaming bald head and a weak chin hidden beneath a steely gray goatee. Each man was hooked up to a heart rate monitor that displayed the function of that organ for the students to observe.

The two were laid out on the sort of low-profile, bedshaped couches you might see in an analyst’s office, heads toward the middle of the room. In the center, sandwiched in the narrow space between two folding rice paper screens, was a third man.

He was in his mid-forties, with a thick shock of unruly white hair, large square glasses, and a jovial, slightly mischievous manner that reminded Walter of Willy Wonka in that film that had come out a few years back. He was dressed in a lab coat and was fiddling with a toaster-sized machine that sat on a spidery steel table. This, he assumed, was Doctor Rayley.

“What is he working on today?” Nina asked a young, redheaded man with a spare mustache and a Dr Pepper T-shirt.

“He’s synchronized the subjects heartbeats,” the young man said, “and is now seeing if one is able to control the frequency of the other.”

“Any success?” Walter asked.

“More luck with slowing than raising,” the Dr Pepper kid replied. “They tend to go out of sync once they go above a hundred beats per minute.”

“Well,” Walter said, “that’s still quite impressive, and potentially relevant for our own study. I’m particularly interested in the fact that he is able to achieve synchronization of subjects without the use of wires or electrodes to connect them either to the biofeedback machine or to each other.” He turned. “We must speak with him at once, Belly!”

“We can’t just barge in on an experiment in progress,” Bell replied.

“I suppose you’re right,” Walter admitted, chastened.

“It’s been an hour and forty-five minutes already,” the Dr Pepper kid said. “Shouldn’t be much longer now.”

Walter sat down on the far end of one of the risers, studying the machine in the center of the room and trying to work out its various components and functions. Trying to think of ways it might be adapted to serve their purpose. He unfolded the schematic he’d sketched out for Bell, and started making a few modifications.

Before he knew it, the experiment was over and the two subjects were attended to by nurses who checked them over thoroughly and helped them sit up. They both seemed upbeat, excited by their accomplishments and impatient with the nurses’ poking and prodding. Doctor Rayley embraced each of his subjects as if they were family, before allowing them to leave the lab.

He then disappeared through a hidden door and reappeared in the observation area, greeting each of his students by name and taking time to thoughtfully answer all of their questions. Bell had to grab Walter by the back of his collar to prevent him from barging over to accost Doctor Rayley with a hundred questions of his own.

But Nina had more subtle ways of attracting Doctor Rayley’s attention and within minutes, she’d drawn him into her gravitational field without even trying.

“Miss Sharp,” he said, arms wide. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“I have some friends from out of town who are very interested in your biofeedback studies,” she said, allowing herself to be embraced and yet somehow not fully participating in it, like a cat tolerating a hug while waiting for food. “Walter Bishop, William Bell, this is Doctor Jeremey Rayley.”

“Yes, yes,” Rayley said extending his hand to both Bell and Walter. “A pleasure, indeed.”

“We are currently conducting a series of experiments not unlike your own recent work, involving the synchronization of multiple minds,” Walter blurted out. “We were hoping that you might allow us to borrow one of your devices, to test their use under very specific field conditions.”

“If it were anyone but Miss Sharp,” Rayley said. “I wouldn’t even consider letting one of my patented machines out of the building. But what you say intrigues me—I don’t mind telling you that I’ve been very interested in the use of biofeedback to control various brain functions. Particularly the more esoteric ones, such as...” He paused for dramatic effect, waggling his considerable eyebrows. “Telepathy and telekinesis. I know for a fact that those are specific topics of Nina’s personal studies.” He cast a glance in her direction.

“We will gladly share the results of our research,” Walter said, ignoring Bell’s warning glare. “As scientists, we are all in this together, aren’t we?”

“Ah, yes, quite right,” Rayley said. “Science, like love, should be free for all.”

20

They left the Institute for the Advancement of Bio-Spiritual Awareness with two large cardboard boxes filled with equipment and supplemental parts. There was barely enough room in the back seat of Nina’s Beetle to fit everything so Walter ended up having to hold one of the boxes in his lap for the drive back in to San Francisco.

He didn’t complain, though, and when Nina looked up at his reflection in the rearview mirror, she could practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes. He almost looked happy. She wished that she could share his enthusiasm, and sincerely hoped that this crazy plan of theirs would work, but all she could see were flaws and weaknesses.

They returned to the house, and Walter and Bell immediately went to work on modifying the biofeedback rig to Walter’s specifications. Nina tried very hard not to be bothered by the mess of wires and solder they made in her pristine bedroom, which offered a much more effective working space than the crowded basement.