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withal to muse to myself, What would the therapist say about this one? And then my cell chimed. The blue pilot light over my nightstand read 3:15. It's Chen. Sorry to wake you. Chen? My tongue was furred. Someday they would have to invent a pill for that one, or some sort of spray. Instant clear speech within moments. Just wanted you to know, I'll be gone soon. Three minutes ten seconds, in fact. Gone? Where? They say the soul is at its weakest at three in the morning, so it looks like I just made it past that threshold. That counts for something, eh? Where are you? My place. I don't have much time. Two minutes, forty-four seconds now. You know about appendixes? 
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I was climbing into my trousers, slipping on a turtleneck shirt. Human appendixes? Seemingly useless. No one has determined conclusively what they were once used for, if indeed we used them at some point in our evolution. But here we are, using our own versions of appendixes, our vestigial talents. And what if there are more? Maybe an organ that we use every day, but we never fired those synapses in a particular fashion, or sent the blood rolling through the right vein … If you're in trouble, we can meet. How about you go to -- No need. Two minutes, eighteen seconds. My synapses were firing, let me tell you. They were firing. Stay on the line. Tell me what's happening. Afraid I don't have much stamina. I did what I could. Rather a failure. But they fired, for a few  |
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