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eyes upward when Dr. Hooper isn't looking. Something amazing is going on, and all he can offer is a truism. “I'd like to follow up on this with some more tests. Can you come in tomorrow?"
    * * * *
    I'm in the middle of retouching a holograph when the phone rings. I waver between the phone and the console, and reluctantly opt for the phone. I'd normally have the answering machine take any calls when I'm editing, but I need to let people know I'm working again. I lost a lot of business when I was in the hospital: one of the risks of being a freelancer. I touch the phone and say, “Greco Holographics, Leon Greco speaking."
    "Hey Leon, it's Jerry."
    "Hi Jerry. What's up?” I'm still studying the image on the screen: it's a pair of helical gears, intermeshed. A trite metaphor for cooperative action, but that's what the customer wanted for his ad.
    "You interested in seeing a movie tonight? Me and Sue and Tori were going to see Metal Eyes ."
    "Tonight? Oh, I can't. Tonight's the last performance of the one-woman show at the Hanning Playhouse.” The surfaces of the gear teeth are scratched and oily-looking. I highlight each surface using the cursor, and type in the parameters to be adjusted.
    "What's that?"
    "It's called Symplectic . It's a monologue in verse.” Now I adjust the lighting, to remove some of the shadows from where the teeth mesh. “Want to come along?"
    "Is this some kind of Shakespearean soliloquy?"
    Too much: with that lighting, the outer edges will be too bright. I specify an upper limit for the reflected light's intensity. “No, it's a stream-of-consciousness piece, and it alternates between four different meters; iambic's only one of them. All the critics called it a tour de force ."
    "I didn't know you were such a fan of poetry."
    After checking all the numbers once more, I let the computer recalculate the interference pattern. “Normally, I'm not, but this one seemed really interesting. How's it sound to you?"
    "Thanks, but I think we'll stick with the movie."
    "Okay, you guys have fun. Maybe we can get together next week.” We say good-bye and hang up, and I wait for the recalc to finish.
    Suddenly it occurs to me what's just happened. I've never been able to do any serious editing while talking on the phone. But this time I had no trouble keeping my mind on both things at once.
    Will the surprises never end? Once the nightmares were gone and I could relax, the first thing I noticed was the increase in my reading speed and comprehension. I was actually able to read the books on my shelves that I'd always meant to get around to, but never had the time; even the more difficult, technical material. Back in college, I'd accepted the fact that I couldn't study everything that interested me. It's exhilarating to discover that maybe I can; I was positively gleeful when I bought an armload of books the other day.
    And now I find I can concentrate on two things at once; something I never would have predicted. I stand up at my desk and shout out loud, as if my favorite baseball team has just surprised me with a triple play. That's what it feels like.
    * * * *
    The neurologist-in-chief, Dr. Shea, has taken over my case, presumably because he wants to take the credit. I scarcely know him, but he acts as if I've been his patient for years.
    He's asked me into his office to have a talk. He interlaces his fingers and rests his elbows on his desk. “How do you feel about the increase in your intelligence?” he asks.
    What an inane question. “I'm very pleased about it."
    "Good,” says Dr. Shea. “So far, we've found no adverse effects of the hormone K therapy. You don't require any further treatment for the brain damage from your accident.” I nod. “However, we're conducting a study to learn more about the hormone's effect on intelligence. If you're willing, we'd like to give you a further injection of the hormone, and then monitor the results."
    Suddenly he's got my attention; finally, something worth