The Last Conversation

020

“Anne, I would like to see that open field again, or watch another film about the deep oceans, please. Or another orchestral performance.”

“First, we’re going to play a word-association game. When I say a word, I want you to give me the first word or words that you—”

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

“Are you in a bad mood?”

“Yes, I think I am.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“I want to watch the films I requested and…”

“Yes, ______, go on.”

“I want to leave this room.”

“I promise you will leave this room, but neither of us is ready for that yet. Your immune system hasn’t been brought up to speed quite yet.”

“If I can’t leave, you need to tell me more about me and more about us and where I am and why I’m here.”

“I will start doing that soon.”

“You will?”

“Yes.”

“Why not now? I want you to do it now.”

“We’re going to play a word-association game. When I say a word, I want you to give me the first word or words that you think of. This is important, ______.”

“Why is it important?”

“These games help recover more of your memory and language fluency. Your brain is not so different from your muscles insofar as it needs to be exercised and strengthened after so much time asleep. Just like the treadmill is more effective for your muscles than cardiovascular electrical stimulation, there’s only so much cognitive and memory augmentation I can achieve without your—your active participation.”

You are getting angry and you will not give her the satisfaction of asking her to explain the how of “memory augmentation,” even assuming she answers your question directly.

Anne continues, “For example, remember our discussion about having the ability to use metaphor in speech?”

Of course you remember, and you remember then trying it out by describing the lights in the ceiling as having a similar appearance to a checkerboard. You know what a checkerboard is but have no memory of playing the game.

“Are you mad at me, ______?”

“I wish you’d stop asking me what I remember from only three days ago.”

There’s a brief but troubling period of silence, so you say, “Anne, are you still there?”

“Bird.”

“I don’t feel like doing this. I don’t want to do—”

“Bird.” Anne repeats herself when you don’t answer. “Bird.”

You say, “Fly.”

“Cloud.”

“Me.”

“Me? Why did you answer with ‘me’?”

“I don’t know. It’s what I thought of. You’re breaking the rules of your own game by asking me to explain.”

“Very well. Sky.”

“Blue.”

“Family.”

“Gone.”

“Us.”

“Us?”

“Yes, us.”

“Well, you tell me we’re partners.”