But his lack of a reply proves what I should have known all along: he didn’t help me then, and he won’t help me now.
Granted, it’s only been a few hours since I asked him to be my fake boyfriend, but each minute cements my lie further into reality. I picture him out there telling people the truth and taking down my career in one swipe. My fear seeps into mistyped lines of code, switched up words in my instructions, and mixed-up version copies.
“Goddammit!” My outburst is met by the whir of dozens of computers on standby and the impatient blink of my cursor. Closing my eyes, I breathe into every frazzled nerve end. I need to get myself and my interactive code together, otherwise it won’t be my lie that makes people doubt me. I grab my empty coffee cup and speed down the corridor, hoping to gain some liquid focus. But the coffee only adds another layer to my spiral of worry, and churns in my stomach as I insert the last screenshots into the instruction documents and load my scripts into the cloud.
By the time the first students filter into the lab, it’s been four hours since I’ve last spoken to Lewis and I’ve come up with, and discarded, six different excuses to skip the facultydinner. His absence all throughout the morning tells me that he’s not willing to help me out. Instead, Vivienne breezes into the room, and that’s when it gets truly hard to tamp down my panic. Either she’s here to tell me there’s no space for me at the Sawyer’s anymore because Lewis has divulged the truth, or…
Whatisshe doing here?
“Vivienne, what a surprise,” I say, trying to keep my voice light.
“I’ve read about the task you use in your experiments in your last two papers, and I’ve been wanting to see it for myself. This is going to be so exciting,” she singsongs and claps her hands together as she heads to a workstation in the third row.
Huh.Vivienne reallyisjust here to learn. Apparently, and very much to my relief, it looks like Lewis hasn’t given me up yet.
Maybe he decided that the truth can wait until after my workshop. Pressing my back into the lip of the desk, I survey the rest of the now-packed room. A few known faces have dropped in: a postdoc from Japan who I met at a conference in Vienna two years ago, a girl wearing a LEGOStar WarsT-shirt who started her PhD when I left the lab in Singapore, and a tall, gangly guy who interned with me in Zurich for a summer.
I check the time on my phone, slide off my blazer, and clear my throat to get everyone’s attention. “Welcome,” I announce, “and thanks for joining this session on virtual reality for researching human memory processes.”
Few things glue my attention to the moment like teaching does, and as I introduce myself, this morning’s tension dissipates. By the time I get started on today’s topic, my shoulders have melted down.
“You might wonder what computer games have to do with neuroscience research in general, and memory research in particular.” I begin to pace the front of the computer lab. “After all, a lot of memory research has been done differently. Givepeople lists of words to learn, for instance. Those experiments can show us how new associations are built.” I use my fingers to count as I speak. “Which brain regions are involved in learning. We can also look at what goes wrong when we don’t remember. There’s an issue though.”
I give the class time to absorb my words and take a few steadying breaths. No matter what Lewis decides, this is what I came here for: learning and teaching, networking, meeting Professor Alderkamp. A shot at carrying on my research after my current contract expires.
I almost manage to convince myself, but then a latecomer pushes through the door, nods tightly at me, and strides down the rows of the computer lab. Lewis, tearing down my fragilely constructed confidence as he sinks into the last available chair next to Vivienne.
Chapter Six
I blink at the spot in the third row where Lewis and Vivienne murmur something to each other, suddenly feeling too hot despite the blasting AC.
“What’s the issue, Doc?” someone pipes up. A guy in the first row who wears his hair tied into a thick knot at the back of his head.
The issue is rather obvious. My academic competitor has sat down next to my ex’s fiancée, in a perfect position to dish to her about the insane plan I concocted to remediate the misconception I should’ve cleared up when it first arose. My throat is heavy with humiliation.
“List learning is more of a semantic memory process, right?” someone else calls.
I clear my throat. “What?”
“The issue that you mentioned. I thought you wanted us to guess?” Same voice. It belongs to a girl with a purple-dyed undercut and a pink T-shirt that readsBabe with Power.She blows a bubble with her chewing gum, and as it pops, I snap back into myself.
Right.
I have a class to teach.
Behind my back, I pinch the soft flesh between my thumb and index finger. “Correct,” I say, my voice less steady than I’d like it to be. “Except for when we’re learning for vocabulary quizzes in school or trying to remember our grocery lists, a lot of our memories are formed as by-products, without intention. Take today, the first day of this summer program.”
And maybe the last for me, if Lewis tells Vivienne that her assumption about us was plain wrong. That I lied to her face and have been lying ever since. A glance tells me they’ve stopped talking to each other, and instead, Lewis is leaning forward, elbows on the table and crystalline eyes boring into mine, as if whatever I have to say is riveting.
Maybe he did change his mind?
I focus on the hope curling in my chest and clear my throat. “Sure, you came here to gather new information about the brain. But throughout the day, you’ll pick up so much more: names of the people around you, the layout of this building. The encounters you’ve had today. Your brain saves all these bits of information from your day-to-day life without any conscious effort.”
Most students have their heads down, scribbling on paper or typing on their laptops, but I spot the bob of several heads nodding in agreement.
“The truth is, everyday life is much more complex than what we investigate in our carefully controlled experiments in the lab, and we need to bring them closer together. Because, after all, the memories you form throughout your life… They are what really makes youyou, right? That’s where virtual reality and computer games come in, because they allow us to bring lifelike complexity into our experiments.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see students drawing forward, impatient to get started.
