Plague of Memory Read Online Free PDF Page A

not wish to go with him into the neurological treatment room, but Reever had directed me to allow the Omorr to continue his attempts to revive my former self's memories. Thus I went, although slowly and without a great deal of enthusiasm, and sat in the padded patient's seat.
    The room contained the latest technology being used to treat patients with brain injury, disorder, or disease. A long bank of consoles measured brain activity, performed continuous neurological scans, and applied finely controlled doses of medications, sonics, energy, and other stimulants to the patients.
    "Try not to wriggle this time," Squilyp said as he lowered a bowl-shaped web of alloy bands studded with stim ports and sensor pads over the top of my head.
    The feel of the cold metal on my skin made my nose wrinkle. "Would you sit still if you felt as if lice were crawling in and out of your ears?"
    "If I knew the lice were going to give me back my life, yes." The Senior Healer hopped over to the console and initiated the treatment program. "Sit back, close your eyes, and relax."
    Relax, when my life might be eradicated in favor of hers. Impossible. Only his past failures reassured me enough to do as he told me. "When will I have had enough treatment?"
    "When I see some positive results from the stim," Squilyp said, and switched on something that made the short hairs on my neck rise. "Cognitive impairment from trauma-induced amnesia is not always permanent. A substantial amount of memory loss is to be expected, but over time that should reduce until your memories are intact up to the time of your injury."
    No sensation of lice in my ear canals, but I resisted a sudden, terrible urge to squash what felt like invisible worms inching under my hair. "Which time? When the prisoner shuttle crashed, or when Daneeb shot Cherijo in the head?"
    "Don't fidget," the Omorr said. "When the native woman shot you, obviously. The crash landing only fractured your skull."
    "I reviewed the last set of brain scans you performed," I said over the faint buzzing in my ears. I did not like it any more than the lice-infested sensation. "You noted that the bilateral lesions to the hippocampus were severe."
    He nodded in an absent fashion. "They should be. You were shot twice at point-blank range. That it did not destroy your hippocampus is a miracle."
    "You agree that such would be enough to inflict irreversible retrograde amnesia," I suggested, cringing a little as I felt the energy of the first round of stim come through the bands. I opened my eyes and saw white spots. "As would damage to the entorhinal, perirhinal, and parahippocampal nodes. Judging by the age of the tissue in those cortical areas, all three were virtually destroyed by the head injuries Daneeb inflicted."
    "I disagree." The Omorr left the console and came over to adjust the halo device. "Your semantic memory is largely intact. You recalled words spoken to you just before the head injury. You even remember specific medical skills and how to function as an adult in society, limited as yours was."
    "After two years of wandering about and behaving like a mute madwoman," I reminded him. The outrage in his eyes made my heart constrict. "Senior Healer, I do not mean to offend, or show disrespect, but all you do with this"—I tapped the halo—"is disrupt my brain waves, make my skin crawl, and give me a headache."
    The door panel opened abruptly, and Xonea Torin, captain of the Sunlace, strode in.
    I waited in silence for Cherijo's adopted brother to speak to Squilyp. He was almost as tall as Teulon had been, but much broader through the shoulders and chest. When I had first come on board the ship, the crew's blue skin, black hair, and white eyes reminded me so much of the Raktar that it had been a comfort. Only in time did I learn how different the Torins were, collectively as friendly as children who had never left their shelter.
    They were nothing like Teulon.
    These people might all have eyes the color of