“The paperwork and payment have gone through, thank you. Please step this way. I need to reiterate, Mrs Hutchins, that what you are about to see is not necessarily a true reflection of your husbands past life events or experiences but more so a display of how they were received, through his eye and in his mind. Please do remember that”
The laboratory technician allowed the pristine glass doors to slide open as he approached them. They entered in the centre of a large white room, rectangular in shape, with two enormous clear glass cubes at either end. The technician paused.
“To your left is your cube. You will sit in the chair in the middle there, and I will hook you up to the Neurocaptis machine and we will begin. To your right, you can see your husband.”
Through tired eyes, Mrs Hutchins let out a little weep as she gazed over at her husband’s body, dried makeup smudged across her cheeks.
“Please, Mrs Hutchins, do not be alarmed. His open eyes are a natural response to being wired to the machine. I’m afraid the situation has not changed - your husband has passed. His current state is charged by electrical currents from the Captis to maintain power in the brain and recover his memory. This is all part of the service you requested.”
There was a moments silence.
“As you are aware, there is a small window where this process is possible. We really must press on.”
The technician led the lady to the empty cube and after a few minutes, Mrs Hutchins was connected to the Captis. There, she noticed how the feeling had switched from a scientific and innovative laboratory to something somewhat more of a mental asylum. Her heartbeat was becoming more apparent, increasing in tempo and a conscious effort was needed to steady her breathing. The heavy-duty steel bolts seemed excessive and now pinned her to the chair at her ankles, knees, waist, chest, elbows and wrists. Not for the claustrophobic, she thought. She was uncertain if the gentle lavender smell drifting by was part of the process or a simple addition to calm participants. In a more serious tone, the technician continued.
“Troubles, conflict, distress and other negative memories usually present themselves at the very beginning, as this often leaves the clearest imprint on the mind. I can guarantee you that whatever the subject has suppressed, hidden, avoided will come to the surface right away and no doubt, this will be the most difficult for you to endure. After this… “
He gently sighed and shrugged his shoulders.
“… I cannot be sure. Just know that when an investigator is linked up to this machine, they will usually find what they are looking for within 5 minutes.”
The room was eerily quiet.
“If I may, Mrs Hutchins… “
The technician paused to gather his words.
“Usually… law enforcement officers or private detectives undertake these procedures in an attempt to gather critical evidence from the deceased that may prove vital in an ongoing case. Perhaps more importantly, they have no emotional connection and thus the mental impact of what they see has little effect. It is almost incomprehensible to them. It is incredibly… incredibly rare to have an immediate family member linked up to this system and, as the paperwork that you have signed has stated, we cannot be held liable for what you are about to see and the lasting impact it may have.
May I ask… what the purpose is of this operation?”
Mrs Hutchins gently tilted her head towards the technician as far as the restraints would allow, her big sparkling eyes slowly locking with the concerned stare of the technician. A soft smile worked its way on to her face.
“Love” She replied.
The technician held eye contact for a moment but noticed a shimmery flash as she released something from her tight grip. A gold necklace with a large, heart-shaped locket now swayed like a pendulum down by her side, hanging on to her index finger. The technician bent down and gathered the swinging locket in his hand. He could see the pain in Mrs Hutchins eyes as she sat staring at him, her gaze encouraging him to open the locket, to which he obliged.
‘My one and only true love’ - the inscription read.
The technician clicked the metal apart to reveal an image of a beautiful blonde woman with a sultry stare. Her lips were slightly pursed, her large blue eyes sparkled from the light of the camera flash, alluring and commanding attention. This was not Mrs Hutchins.
Drawn into his client’s story, the technician allowed himself to be caught in the moment. The locket, the mysterious woman and a rare investigation within a family. 'Who is she?' he thought.
"We really should press on" said Mrs Hutchins calmly.