Flip the Coin [BL]-Chapter 246. Brain and GFC
Henry’s POV
After the ECG, Kenny was asked to move to the other side of the room, while I followed with his shirt in my hand. The cables were still attached to his body, just removed from the machine, and placed on another one beside a treadmill.
"Please run at full speed for a minute, then for one minute comfortably, then speed up again, and so on." The girl said, and I snorted internally.
He could run much faster than the treadmill could take.
After she popped her gum bubble, she motioned to a seat in the corner while looking at me.
"You can sit here..." 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮
I would get a better look at him from that spot, so I accepted her offer—I still did not like her.
With Kenny’s shirt in my hands, I sat down, watching him run. When he sped up a bit—not as much as he could, but a bit—he winked at me, and I broke into a grin.
So fucking handsome.
I stared at him, asking myself if we could go back to shower after this. I still couldn’t decide if my favorite room in this center was our bathroom or the Pilates changing room.
"An hour, and you can still go?" The girl hadn’t been there the whole time, leaving behind the curtain and returning.
"Yeah." Kenny wasn’t even out of breath, though a very thin layer of sweat formed on his upper body, looking especially enticing.
I looked at my smartwatch, realizing that really an hour had passed by.
"Okay. Your heart is in excellent condition, perfect." She nodded after glancing at the machine.
"Though I’d like for you to run longer, we have another appointment..."
"Now, please follow me." She said, as she reached for him to remove the cables from his chest and the side of his ribs, when I stood up.
"I’ll do it." Kenny pulled them off after glancing at me.
The girl nodded and went to the side, wetting a few paper towels to give them to Kenny—so... no additional shower for us.
He wiped himself down while stepping off the treadmill, walking to me, and taking his shirt back.
I put my arm around his neck.
"You did well."
"That’s nothing." He smirked cockily.
When the girl turned around, I nuzzled my head against his, only to straighten up when she came back.
Kenny chuckled and ran a hand through his hair as we followed her. She led us out of the room.
"What’s next?" I asked as we walked down the long corridor.
She turned around, continuing to walk backward.
"We are most interested in his heart." She put a finger against her chest.
"And his brain." She pointed at her temple.
"And that means?" I growled when we stopped in front of a thick metal door.
"That means you have to wait outside," she reached for a key inside her white coat.
"No." I pulled Kenny closer to me.
"Well, those are the rules. If you insist, you can come with me and take a look through the window." She inserted her key into the lock of the door while pointing at the adjoining door.
Kenny patted my arm with a silent command.
I get it; he wants to know about his own body, and I want to know too.
But to let him lie down for a CT or MRI and put him in the hands of these people without me being in the same room?
Another pat on my arm, and I unwillingly let go.
"Everything is fine." Kenny turned and ruffled my hair, instantly appeasing me.
"Okay."
He entered with the girl, and I watched while standing at the door as she explained everything to him. After he changed into some hospital dress, he lay down on the white stretcher that was part of the machine as it pulled him in it’s big main body.
The girl came out and brought me to the adjoining room, where a big glass window showed Kenny on the other side of the room.
"Hello, nice to meet you." A blonde woman waved at me absentmindedly before turning to the glass window.
She didn’t care to introduce herself, but I recognized her as Kenny’s psychologist.
Dr. Thompson was here as well, smiling brightly at me—and this whole thing suddenly felt like a big setup.
Crossing my arms, I leaned against the wall, looking through the window to watch what was going on, but I always had them in my view, ready to shatter the glass or just take them out if they tried anything funny.
Dr. Thompson sat in front of the computer, both women standing behind him as he pressed a button on the keyboard. We heard the machine starting to work, doing its computer tomography or whatever.
"More than the other survivors." After a pause, eventually the blonde woman spoke, bending over to stare at the computer.
"Far more." Dr. Thompson murmured back and glanced at her.
I straightened up and took a step away from the window to look sideways at what they were seeing.
Kenny’s brain was displayed in a 3D model, with many, many colors lighting it up like a Christmas tree.
I glanced back to the window, seeing that everything was okay with him, before looking back at the screen. What did that mean? What did these colors mean?
"Take a look at the pineal gland. Is there something strange with it?" The blonde woman asked.
The 3D picture of Kenny’s brain turned, a side cut was shown, and they looked at the part that was pictured in the books Kenny showed me inside the library.
"Absolutely normal...like the others." There was disappointment in the blonde woman’s voice.
"It can’t be. The way his brain lights up, there has to be a good amount of DMT in his system."
"Where does he get it from, if not from his pineal gland?" Dr. Thompson asked.
"By ingesting it?" The girl asked.
"Are you really asking that?" The blonde woman questioned the girl derogatorily, all their eyes fixated on the screen throughout their entire conversation.
"No...." The blonde woman said slowly, zooming out the picture of Kenny’s brain and moving it at different angles.
"The global functional connectivity isn’t caused by DMT in his system. I think this is not a temporary state constantly induced and reduced by a drug he produces himself. We are looking at a brain that has undergone a permanent change in the way it functions."
"Look at this." She pointed at a few spots.
"The transfer is marvelous; each area of his brain is constantly communicating with the others. The process of information and its exchange is absolutely seamless."
"Then this..." She pointed at another spot.
"What is this? The prefrontal cortex is fully lit, constantly working..."
"Old CT and MRI scans of his brain?"
"Only one when he was a kid; everything was normal back then."
"How is his decision-making?" Dr. Thompson asked.
"Average." The blonde woman answered.
"IQ, EQ?"
"A bit above average."
"Problem solving?"
"Average."
"Adapting? Access to memories?"
"We didn’t get that far, but everything I saw was average. Intelligent, but not something that explains this." The psychologist tapped the screen again.
"And that." She changed perspectives with a few clicks on the keyboard.
"Look at the hippocampus... then the prefrontal cortex, and now explain to me what I am seeing..."
"He must have a perfect memory." Dr. Thompson.
"No, he doesn’t have one. I spoke to his grumpy grandmother and his old teachers." The blond doctor.
I glanced at the ceiling.
"His brain works on a high-energy level. Why?" Dr. Thompson again.
"If he doesn’t show clear disabilities nor any special abilities that require a constant overactive brain function, why is his body operating and interconnecting every part of his brain like crazy?"
"How does he sustain himself? He eats normal portions, even skipping dinner... How is he even alive?" The girl muttered.
"Sleep?" Dr. Thompson asked.
"Sleepwalking, which should only add fatigue and cost him more energy."
There were no cameras in here.
"Where does he get the energy from?" Dr. Thompson uttered.
"I need to take a look at his blood." The blonde woman straightened up and looked at Kenny through the window with fervent eyes.
I chuckled, startling all three of them.
Licking my teeth, I felt damn bloodthirsty.
"Try it, I dare you." I raised my hand, wrapped in shadowy energy, to wave at them cordially.
They looked at my hand with intrigue and shock.
"What is this?" The blonde woman pulled the girl behind her, taking a step toward me.
"Want to try?" I asked her, reaching out.
She didn’t move from the spot, cleverer than I had hoped for her to be.
It didn’t matter anymore; we could never stay under the radar.
Fine, then look at me, be fascinated by me, cut me open— not only do I not care, it wouldn’t be my first time getting cut open either—
But don’t you dare touch him.
I lowered my hand, placing a finger on the long table under the window, pushed my fingertip into the wooden surface as if it were mere pudding, penetrating it fully.
Every spot I touched instantly turned to ashes as I slowly drew a circle.
Their eyes were fixed on what I was doing, only awakening when I finished drawing the circle and the wooden piece in the middle fell to the floor, making them flinch collectively.
