Matthew had shot down his fiftieth alien spacecraft when he finally decided that he was wasting his time. He took his hands from the joystick just as another alien craft dived out from behind an asteroid. The alien craft began firing laser bolts at him and his ship blew up.

"Shit," he muttered as the game ended.

Matthew Hall was sitting in his lab in the MedTec building in Salford Quays. It was the middle of the night and the lab was in darkness. Only the screen of his monitor cast any light in the room at all.

The usually bright laboratory he worked in most of the day and night was in a large and similarly bright building which overlooked what used to be the Manchester Docks, but was now a mariner basin. The whole area had been reclaimed and rebuilt several years ago. The original harbour basin was now surrounded by office buildings on one side, and residential apartments on the other. Matthew lived in one of those apartments. He could see it now as he gazed out the large window by his desk.

Yes, this was boring, he thought to himself again, and sighed.

He had been waiting for three months now. All this powerful computer equipment was just sitting here, waiting to be used, and all he could do with it was play games. It just wasn't fair.

Everything was ready. The new circuit chips he had designed were fully tested and working, the software had been de-bugged as much as possible without being tested in actual working conditions, and even the implant was fully tested and operational. Everything had been simulated, emulated and de-bugged to death. On paper, in theory, everything was ready and would work. But without a field test, without trying everything out for real, it was all worthless. Just theories, ideas, fantasies.

But Matthew knew it would work, he just knew it.

He thought back to those early days, when all this had first started. He had been so lucky. Getting a large company to sponsor you during your Phd was no easy task, but MedTec had been marvellous. Matthew had written to several companies, and all of them had poo-pooed his theories as being silly and too costly. Only Medical Technology (UK) Ltd had shown any real interest. And when Benjamin Watkins, their Head of Research, had agreed to see him, Matthew had been tremendously excited.

Ben had been very friendly and positive. He had agreed to back Matthew all the way on his research, to fund everything, and he had been true to his word. It had taken two years so far, and not once had Ben even faltered in his support. Under his authority, MedTec had provided Matthew with these facilities in their Manchester offices, they had equipped it with the computer system and software he had requested, and they had even produced the circuit chips he had specified. They had done everything he wanted, without hesitation or complaint. Matthew couldn't dream of a better sponsor.

There was a down side, of course. In return for their generous and heavy investment, MedTec wanted the rights to market and sell his idea if it worked. That didn't trouble Matthew too much. He now considered Ben to be his best friend, he trusted him. Anyway, what did he know about marketing and sales? He was interested in the research itself, in his project. That was what counted. If it worked, the benefits would be tremendous, incredible.

It had to work. It would work, Matthew knew it would. But without a field test, it was all just an expensive fantasy.

Matthew sighed again, and staring up at the ceiling he muttered, "Please, God, don't hate me will you? But can you kill someone for me? Soon? Please?"

Amanda Middleton would never forget this day. It would stay with her forever. Today was the day her baby would die.

Graham kept saying that Jayne had really died on Monday night, six months ago, when her car had hit that lamp-post on the A6 just outside Chorley. But Amanda knew that her husband was just trying to take the pressure off, to make her feel better. They both knew in their hearts that their daughter would die tonight, when they finally switched off the machines that still breathed life into her.

Graham and Amanda Middleton sat on each side of their daughter's bed in the intensive care unit of Preston Royal Hospital. They held each others hands across the bed, and held their daughter's hands as she lay there between them. If it hadn't been for the pipes and tubes, Jayne would have looked like she was just asleep. That was what hurt the most.

Jayne hardly had a scratch after the accident. Just a bump on the head, that's all it was. She was still alive and awake when the ambulance got to her, but on the way to the hospital she had faded into a coma. She had never woken.

Irretrievable brain damage, the doctors had said. Although Jayne looked alive, it was only the machines that kept her breathing.

Slowly, Amanda and Graham had come to terms with the idea that their daughter was gone. It had been very difficult. The hospital had provided counciling, and all the doctors and nurses had been very understanding and kind. But for a long time Amanda couldn't, wouldn't accept it. Jayne was here, in this bed, breathing. How could they think about switching her off? Even now, Amanda was having second thoughts.

"I can't do it, Graham," she said tearfully to her husband. "I can't."

Graham swallowed. "I know, love. But you have to remember what the doctor's said. The spirit, the life, that thing that was Jayne, it's gone. Once it lived in her head, but not any more."

"But I can feel her Graham!" Amanda exclaimed, squeezing her daughter's hand in her own. "She's warm, and she's breathing! This can't be right."

Graham couldn't answer. Like his wife, he had hoped that this day would never come. Instead he had held on to the faint hope that his daughter would awake, that one day her eyes would open, and their torment would finally end. He had put to the back of his mind all thought of the dreadful alternative. But now they both had to face that alternative.

Graham and Amanda Middleton stared at one another sadly across the bed. Six months they had been visiting Jayne here in the hospital, and not once had there been any change. Finally, today, they had signed the consent forms that would allow the hospital to disconnect the machines that fed their daughter life and air.

Doctor Hughes, who they had come to know so well, stood at the back of the room, waiting silently. So far he had said nothing, but now he coughed nervously. "If you want to wait a bit longer, I can leave it until tomorrow," he said, tentatively.

Amanda saw the look on her husband's face, and glanced quickly at Doctor Hughes. His face was as sad as theirs. Amanda squeezed her eyes shut, and shook her head. "No," she said with renewed strength. "We owe it to Jayne not to let this drag on any longer." She held her daughter's and her husband's hands even tighter in her own as she whispered, "I'm ready."

"What are they waiting for?" Julia Connors said in an impeccable English accent as she stared impatiently through the window into the ICU. "You switched her off, she's dead, now get out."

"You'll never win first prize in a sensitivity contest talking like that," Sam Rawlston said with a smile.

"Oh, and I suppose you will?" Julia retorted with a quick backward glance before she went straight back to staring at Graham and Amanda Middleton. They were still sitting by their daughter's bedside, Doctor Hughes standing over them. The three of them looked very sad. "Come on, get out of there before she shrivels up!" Julia muttered.

Julia Connors was thirty, with short blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was tall and slim, but Sam Rawlston knew that she was about as lovable as a snake with itchy scales, and twice as slippery. They had been working together for two years now, and had quickly gone through the sexual phase of their relationship. Sam was sad that it had lasted for so short a time, and still hoped to rekindle it. But relationships in their line of business were never a good idea. At least, not if you valued your life and your anatomy.

Sam Rawlston was black, with short cropped hair, and eyes that seemed to look right through you rather than at you. Tall and well built, and very confident in the worst of situations, Rawlston was older than Julia by five years, and his accent gave away his Southern American origins. As they stood in the waiting area outside the ICU, both he and Julia seemed out of place. She was dressed casually in dark colours, while he wore a dark suit and stood as if he were waiting for the President to appear.

"They've just switched off their daughter," he said. "Give them a chance to cry before you kick them out."

"They can cry at home! We've got work to do. And I'm sure getting that doctor in there involved was a bad idea. We shouldn't have told him."

"And what would you have preferred?" Rawlston replied. "That we approached the distraught couple cold?"

Julia grunted, still staring through the window, and shading her eyes from the lights behind her. "I still think he looks far too sneaky to me," she said. "I'll bet he's already spouting off about her death helping someone else to live. He's probably got the papers in his pocket right now. By the time we get to the parents, that body will look like a car that was left unattended in Moss Side overnight." Julia suddenly stepped away from the window. "At last!" she muttered. "They're coming out. Keep out of my way, Sam. Okay? I don't want you putting me off."

Rawlston laughed. "No way! This I gotta see," he said.

Julia pointed her finger at him and said in a stern voice, "Just don't bugger me up! I'm warning you!"

"Here they come," Rawlston said, nodding towards the door behind her.

Julia turned as Graham and Amanda Middleton emerged tearfully from the ICU. She stepped forward to meet them, and with a sad expression on her face, she said in a solemn voice, "Hello, Mr and Mrs Middleton? My name is Julia Connors. I am so sorry for your loss, and I do hope you don't mind me speaking to you now. I know it's a bad time, but it is important that we act quickly. I represent a company called Medical Technology. I believe Doctor Hughes has already mentioned us to you?"

"Female, twenty-four, five-foot-eight, one-hundred and six pounds. Officially dead at 19:17 last night at Preston Royal Hospital, sir."

Sam Rawlston stared at the back of the large leather chair after he had finished his report and waited.

"Cause of death?" a man's voice asked.

"Severe head trauma sustained in an RTA. But she was in a coma for six months before they finally pulled the plug on her last night, sir. The file says she was conscious and cognisant at the scene of the accident, but lapsed into a coma a few minutes later."

"Perfect." The chair revolved, and Ben Watkins leaned forward and took the file from Rawlston's hand. Ben was in his early fifties, with fair hair that was beginning to recede. And like Rawlston, he spoke with an American accent. "Any problems getting permission from the deceased's relatives?"

"No, sir," Rawlston replied with a slight smile as he remembered the scene in the ICU only a few hours before. "Connors excelled herself, sir. She was more than her usual best. She preyed on the parents fears that their daughter would be cut up, and used that fear to put them off giving their consent to any transplants. Instead she persuaded them into believing that leaving their precious daughter with us would be a much better way. She fed them that story about studying the effects of stress on the brain following severe trauma, and how that would help to save the lives of other people who have similar injuries as the one that killed their daughter. It didn't take long to get them to agree after that."

"And they understood and accepted the delay this would cause to any funeral arrangements for their daughter?" Ben asked without looking up from the file he had already spread over his neat and tidy desk.

"Yes, sir. I think they were almost relieved. Connors got a month out of them."

Ben looked up and stared at Rawlston for a moment. Rawlston stood easy, his hands clasped in front of him in a relaxed pose. "Where is Julia?" Ben asked him.

"She's with the body, sir. She said she wanted to make sure that there wasn't any foul-ups."

"What's their ETA?"

"09:00."

"Have her report to me as soon as she gets in. That will be all."

"Yes, sir."

Ben Watkins watched as Rawlston spun on his heel and left. Once the door was shut, he sat back in his chair and slowly read Jayne Middleton's file.

Born in the maternity wing of Royal Oldham Hospital in December in 1974, Jayne had spent most of her early life in Oldham before moving to Liverpool. She had graduated in English at Liverpool University only a year ago, and was hoping to do a Masters Degree at Lancaster. She had been on her way back from there when she had had her fatal accident.

Among her many other talents, Jayne could also speak French and Italian. She had travelled around most of Europe according to her Passport, and she was a very frequent visitor to a local sports club of which she was a member. She had obviously led a very active life. The photos in the file showed an attractive young woman with long brown hair, brown eyes, and a vivacious smile. Ben was surprised that she was unattached with no children when she had died.

Yes, Jayne Middleton would make a perfect subject for a field test. She was just what Matthew Hall had been waiting for, and she fitted MedTec's requirements to a tee. Now he would find out if his faith in Matthew had been justified. A month was all they had, but he hoped it would be long enough. It should be long enough. And for his own sake aswell as for Matthew's, it had better be.

"You look surprised?" Ben said to Matthew. They both stood in the room next to Matthew's lab, watching as the technicians connected up all the equipment. "I told you we would get you a suitable subject for your test, didn't I? Were you beginning to doubt me?"

Matthew stared at the woman in the bed surrounded by all the medical equipment. "No, it's just that I didn't expect it to be a woman, that's all," he said, swallowing loudly.

"Does it make a difference?"

Matthew heard the worried tone in Ben's voice and quickly shook his head. "No, not at all. It's just that I didn't expect it."

"Does it make a difference to you?"

Matthew looked up at Ben, his expression rather obvious. But before he could say anything, Ben smiled at him. "Look, Matthew," he said putting his arm around his shoulders. "I know what you're thinking, but don't go soft on me. Planning all this was one thing, wasn't it, but now that it's for real, and now you're suddenly faced with a real body, it's shocked you, hasn't it?"

Matthew nodded.

"Well, alright," Ben went on. "So this is a dead woman, officially anyway. But don't let that put you off. All the papers have been signed and filed with the appropriate authorities, so she's no longer a real person. She, it, is the field trial for your research. You knew that you would have to work with a human subject sooner or later. For God's sake, you've been moping around the offices waiting for one for long enough. Now we've finally got one, you should be excited!" He pointed to the bed and said with emotion, "This is what we've both been waiting for, Matthew! This is exactly what you asked for! The damage to her brain has been minimal, and she has been off the life support machines for less than thirty minutes. Everything's ready." Ben then shook his head sadly before adding in a more subdued tone, "But, if you've got cold feet. Well, all you have to do is say the word, Matthew, and we can call it all off, right now. I'll get a pasting in the board room, and it could mean my job, but if you're not sure...."

Matthew had started to protest before Ben had finished. "I want to go on, Ben! I do! I'm sorry, it's just that, faced with a real person, a young woman, I-"

"Yeah, I know. You weren't expecting it. You told me. But you were very clear on your requirements, and male or female wasn't one of them. This was what you wanted, so this is what you got. That's why it took us so long. Now, let's leave these people to do their job while we go back into your lab and you can show me that implant."

Matthew looked over his shoulder as Ben led him away, and stared one last time at the young woman in the bed, and at the way the MedTec technicians handled her so casually. It was as if they had already come to terms with her lack of humanity, and that to them, she was only a laboratory experiment. Somehow that worried and alarmed Matthew.

As the door closed behind them, and they stood alone together in the corridor, Matthew suddenly said, "I can't do it, Ben."

"What?" Ben looked at him in shock.

Matthew smiled. "No, I don't mean I don't want to go on with the field trial," he said quickly. "I mean I can't just think of her as an object, a thing, you know?"

Ben sighed. "You had me worried for a moment," he said. "Let's go inside your lab where we can talk in privacy."

They walked the few paces to the door marked 'Mat's Den' and went inside. As soon as they were inside, Matthew started to explain his feelings and his fears. "I guess I was being naive," he began. "I was too detached. I knew I needed a human guinea pig, but I didn't really think of the consequences until I saw her in that bed. She's still a person, Ben. To me, she's not dead. She's living and breathing, and she'll have to be fed and looked after."

"My people will do all that, don't worry."

"But I do worry, Ben, because they think of her the way you do. They're just technicians, not nurses. I saw the way they touched her and treated her. They didn't care about her feelings, or her dignity."

"But she's dead!" Ben exclaimed.

"No she's not!" Matthew insisted. "Not to me anyway. For my experiment to have any success at all, I have to believe that she's still alive. If at any time I begin to think of her as dead, then it's over. Do you understand?"

Ben looked at him in silence for a moment. Matthew was obviously very earnest in his fears, and the last thing Ben wanted was for anything to put him off at this most vital stage. He took a deep breath. "Okay, I'll talk to everyone. I'll make sure that she's treated properly."

"Hire some proper nurses, don't just leave it to the technicians. And does she have to be naked?"

Ben smiled wryly. "You're right," he said, slapping Matthew on the shoulder. "You're absolutely right. Maybe it's me that's got too detached. I'll see that a proper nurse is hired to look after her, and that the surgical team carries out the operation this afternoon using the correct medical practices. From now on she's a patient and not just a subject for the field trial." Ben then paused for a moment as he took a calculated risk. "Her name's Jayne," he said with sudden resolution. "I'll have her complete file sent over to you so that you can learn all about her. Okay?"

"Jayne," Matthew repeated, nodding slowly at first, and then more strongly. "Yes. Thank you, Ben. I know it might cost a bit more money, but it means a lot to me. Thank you."

Ben smiled. "And the success of your work means a lot to me," he said. "Come on, show me that implant that cost me so much. I'd like to see it before the surgeons put it into Jayne's head."

Ben saw how the use of her name relaxed Matthew, and knew immediately that he had made the right decision. As Matthew showed him the implant and slowly explained for the hundredth time how it would work, Ben hardly listened. He just smiled and nodded as if he were listening, while all the time he was hoping that it would be this easy at the end of the field trial. But now that Jayne had been established as a person, he knew that that would be impossible. If the experiment was a success, and Ben knew that it had to be, for all their sakes, then terminating the field trial was going to be very tricky indeed.

Jayne Middleton.

Matthew kept staring at her as he sat at his terminal next to her bed. She looked so peaceful lying there. Her brown hair was too long for the bandages around her head, and was spread out over the pillow. She could have been sleeping, but the tubes in her mouth and nose gave away the true state of her condition. The machines kept her breathing, and Matthew listened to the slow, rhythmic, breaths that they forced into Jayne's lungs. He watched as her chest rose and fell under the sheet that now covered her, and reached out to take her hand where it lay by her side.

As he held her hand in his, he remembered how she had first looked that morning, lying naked and uncovered on the bed. She had seemed so limp and colourless, inhuman even. He had felt uncomfortable and somehow embarrassed looking at her. Now she was dressed in a surgical gown and the machines had returned the colour and warmth to her skin. To him, she was alive again, a person once more.

Jayne Middleton.

But according to current medical beliefs, this was all a waste of time. Her heart had been stimulated and was beating once more, the machines forced the air in and out of her lungs, and a drip fed nutrients into her. But the most important organ in her body, her brain, was inactive. The trauma it had sustained in the accident had damaged it too much, and the subsequent lack of oxygen during her transfer would have damaged it even further. Although Jayne was physically strong enough for her heart to be restarted, and for her body to recover from the stress it had undergone, her brain was a much more fragile entity.

Medical experience showed that the brain never recovered from such damage, and that depriving brain cells of oxygen had an even more damaging and irreversible affect. So, although Jayne's body was alive, her brain was dead. And that was that.

Until now.

Matthew was sure that the information the brain had once stored when alive was not lost at death, at least not for a while. He believed that, like the heart, the brain could also be restarted, or that, at the very least, the information it stored could be accessed. To Matthew, the brain was just a big, complicated computer, and death was the off switch. His theory was that the memories and personality stored in the brain were still there, and like the information stored on a hard disc that had crashed, it could be retrieved. But, up to now, no one knew how. Matthew thought he knew.

The surgery to install the implant in Jayne's head had been completed that afternoon, and, as Ben had promised, the surgery had been carried out as if Jayne were a live patient. Two nurses had already been hired to look after Jayne, and Matthew had met them both. They were called Sandra and Julia. Both were bright and friendly, and they had looked after Jayne all day together. Sandra had now gone home, but Julia would stay on all night, giving way to Sandra who would return in the morning.

It was six o'clock, and most people had already gone home, but for Matthew, his work was just beginning. The implant in Jayne's head was connected by a cable through the wall to the two Cray computers MedTec had installed in Matthew's lab. In fact, they took up most of the space in his lab, and were by far the most costly items to be purchased. They were very powerful, but apart from the many simulations, they had hardly twitched. That would all change tonight.

Matthew had spent the last part of the afternoon wheeling his mini-computer into the room next door and connecting it up to the Crays via the cables through the wall. Even though there was a closed circuit TV camera that relayed pictures of Jayne directly to his lab, Matthew wanted to be in the room with her during the field trial.

Now everything was ready. Matthew let go of Jayne's hand and turned to his keyboard and monitor. He typed away for a few seconds and then hit the return key with a flourish. Apparently nothing happened, but next door one of the Crays began to heat up as it's usage went up from almost zero to eighty percent in a few seconds.

"What could possibly keep two Crays buzzing for a week at almost maximum capacity with so little result?" Ben moaned as he paced up and down in the monitoring room. "With computer power like that, she should be orbiting Mars by now!"

He walked over to the monitor screen and pointed at Jayne still lying in her bed, Matthew sitting at his computer next to her as usual. "But look at her!" he said in exasperation. "If you and that other nurse didn't move her about each day, she'd still be in the same position she was on the first day!"

"She is in the same position she was on the first day," Julia Connors pointed out as she sat casually by the monitor, her legs crossed. She was dressed in a nurses uniform and waved a pencil about idly in her hand. "If you ask me she's as dead as a door nail, but not yet as stiff."

"I didn't ask you!" Ben snapped at her. Then he smiled and leaned over her, adding, "But if this does all go wrong, I'll make sure everyone knows who picked the subject for our field trial!"

Julia threw the pencil down and stood up. "You're not pinning this on me, Benjamin!" she said in a raised voice, pushing him back. "I've put too many years in for the Corporation to lose it all now just because one of your fancy ideas is going down the toilet!"

Ben moved away, spreading his arms wide in an expression of detachment. "It's no use complaining to me, Julia dear," he said. "You know what Grant's like. He won't just flush me, he'll flush the whole kit and caboodle. Me, you, Rawlston, Matthew in there, even this whole office, we'll all disappear overnight, never to be seen again. It's happened before. Don't tell me you haven't heard about what happened in Santa Monica?"

Julia stared at him. She had heard. The Corporation's offices in Santa Monica had been three times as big as the one here in Manchester. The Managing Director had put his faith in a venture that failed, and had reported this disaster at the following board meeting at the Corporation's headquarters in Hackensack, New Jersey. He had never returned from that meeting. It was said that he had 'left the company', and overnight, half his staff had 'left the company' with him. None of them, or their families, had ever been seen again.

Julia had no wish to 'leave the company'. "Why don't you go in there and talk to him?" she said in a much calmer voice.

"Yes, why not?" Ben said with a sigh. "Since I'm paying for it all, the least Matthew can do is explain to me why nothing's happening."

"And don't forget to remind him that he only has three weeks left," Julia said as Ben reached for the door.

Ben nodded and left.

Julia sat down again at the nurses station. She turned the volume up on the monitor and waited.

When Julia had gone to see Ben when she got back with Jayne Middleton's body, and he had asked her to keep a close watch on Matthew and his subject during the field trial, she had known why, of course. The Corporation had already spent a large amount of money on Matthew's research, and if there were no results to show for it at the end, things would get extremely messy. Sam was very good, and all that, but when it came to anything messy, he was too officious, too correct. And the last thing you wanted when things were getting messy was someone who was like that. No, when things got messy, it was always Julia's job to sort it out. And this would need a lot of sorting out if another Santa Monica was to be avoided.

Well, that was fine with her, it was what she was good at. Extremely good at, in fact. But she had never imagined after her meeting with Ben that she would end up wet nursing the living dead in there. She had spent hours each night working her butt off looking after sleeping beauty, and she hadn't enjoyed it one bit. No, definitely not. So, if the field trial was about to come to a premature end, there would be no one more pleased than her. Her only hope was that it was going to be as messy as possible, because this was one clean up operation she was really going to enjoy.

Julia watched the monitor intently as the door finally opened and Benjamin Watkins appeared. This she had to see. She heard the two men exchange a brief greeting together, and smiled when Ben then plunged straight in, asking Matthew why nothing at all was happening. That's the way, she thought, lead him into it nice and gently, then hit him with a baseball-bat.

"Why didn't you tell me you were so worried?" Matthew replied after Ben had explained his situation.

"I thought you knew. All of this, the expense, everything, was on my say so. So, if there are no results to show for it all at the end of the field trial, I'm for it. I thought that was obvious, even to you."

Ben had pulled up a chair and sat next to Matthew at his computer. To his surprise, Matthew just grinned at him. It annoyed Ben, but he kept his cool and said, "You've only got three more weeks, you know that, don't you?"

"Three more weeks will be fine, Ben!" Matthew said, still smiling. He turned back to his computer, and began typing on the keyboard.

Ben felt more annoyed then ever. Matthew just didn't seem to understand the appalling consequences for failure. Part of that was his own fault, of course. He had never revealed who owned MedTec, or the real reason why the Corporation was interested in Matthew's research, for that would have defeated the whole object, because Matthew would never have agreed to work with them if he knew the truth. But failure would bring out the truth, in a very short, but horrific climax.

Ben did his best to keep calm. "You don't seem to understand," he began, and then he stopped as something caught his eye.

Jayne Middleton's arm had slowly raised from the side of the bed where it lay, and as Ben stared at it, wide eyed, she held up three fingers in an obvious sign.

Ben continued to stare at those three fingers as Matthew said over his shoulder, "Three weeks to go, you said. Or, if you prefer, one week gone."

Matthew typed again on his keyboard, and Jayne lowered two of her fingers. Ben was left staring at her raised middle finger.

Ben turned to Matthew and asked in a subdued voice, "How long have you been able to do that?"

Matthew turned to face Ben and smiled once more. "Oh, since about yesterday morning," he said. "But that's nothing, watch this!"

Matthew typed on his keyboard again, then he began to rummage about in the drawer of his equipment trolley. A few seconds passed before he produced a virtual reality glove from somewhere inside. He quickly plugged it into his mini-computer and put it on his right hand. As he moved his hand and fingers, Jayne's hand and fingers copied his movements exactly.

"You should have told me you were worried, Ben, I could have showed you this yesterday," Matthew said as they both watched Jayne's arm, hand and fingers moving so energetically. "Although it might have looked like nothing was happening this week, most of the hard work has been done. I thought you would have guessed that by the increased usage on the Crays. Both of them are up to about ninety percent now, but that should be the limit."

"I dismissed it without thinking," Ben admitted. "I'm used to physical results, so I never thought about where all that computer power was going. Can I try?"

Matthew nodded and took off the glove. Ben put it on and began to move his hand, watching as Jayne copied his every move. "I know you must have explained it to me a hundred times before, Matthew," he said, "but explain it to me again, will you?"

"Okay." Matthew swivelled in his chair and faced Ben properly. "If you remember from my proposal, the first task was the make or break of my whole research project. Before we can do anything, the neural net of the brain has to be mapped out. That's what the Crays have been doing all this week."

"But what does that actually mean?" Ben asked as he made a thumbs up sign and watched Jayne do the same. "I'm an electronics man, not a brain surgeon."

Matthew laughed. "Yes, it is hard," he said, scratching his head. "And I was like you in the beginning, but if I can understand the basics of it, you can. It's to do with the way we remember things.

"At the start, at birth, you can think of the brain as being a clean slate. The brain is made up of millions and millions of neural cells, but none of them are connected in any way. Then, as we learn things, pathways between neural cells begin to be formed. Gradually, as we remember more things, the pathways get more complicated as more and more neural cells are joined together. Soon it becomes a vast network of interconnecting pathways, an impenetrable rat's nest of junctions and cells.

"The complicated bit is understanding how our memory actually works. It's not like a computer, where one piece of information is stored in one place. No, for us, one memory could require a dozen neural cells. But it's not even that simple. Sometimes a smell might make you remember a time, a place, or even a person. Or a name might make you think of an event, or some sort of experience. So all your memories, everything, is interconnected, from one end of the rat's nest to the other. Who knows how we access it, or how it really works? But it does work, and instantly. Well, almost instantly. The pathways need to be refreshed every so often. If they're not, they seem to fade away.

"You must have experienced the times when you want to remember something but you can't? You know, the times when someone's name is on the tip of your tongue, but you just can't get it?"

Ben stopped playing with the virtual reality glove and nodded to Matthew as he took it off. "Yes," he said. "It drives me crazy when I can't remember like that. It's very annoying."

Matthew smiled as he took the glove back from him. "That's because your brain is trying to find the correct pathway, but for some reason the route isn't there anymore. So what do you do? You try and find a different route, that's what. You try to get round the gap by thinking of something else that will remind you of what you want to remember. It's as if you know exactly where it is, but you just can't reach it. You can go frantic trying to get closer and closer, until finally, you remember. And at the instant of remembering, the lost pathway is remade, and the thing that you couldn't remember before is now suddenly so obvious."

"So how does all this fit in with your work?"

"Well, Jayne's brain was a mass of interconnecting pathways before she was injured. And although she's alive again, those pathways have all disappeared. Part of the reason for that is that there is no life, or energy in the neural cells. The implant provides that energy in the form of a very weak electrical charge from the tiny battery inside it. From it's position between the two halves of Jayne's brain, it can stimulate all the neural cells like a little pacemaker. The next task is to refresh all those pathways. That's what the Crays have been doing.

"The software I wrote acts a bit like a computer virus. It leaves the implant along one of the hard wired routes into the brain where it reaches one neural cell. Once there, it identifies all the pathways that lead from it, reproduces itself, and sends the clones down each pathway. It then returns to the Crays to tell them where it went. Once the clones get to other neural cells, they each do the same, sending off more clones down more pathways. They also return to the Crays, travelling back through the same pathways to the first neural cell, and from there back to the implant. Each time this happens the neural cells and the pathways between them are refreshed, rebuilding the neural net. It's a bit more complicated than that, but basically, that's all there is to it. It just takes a long time. That's why the Crays are so busy. They're mapping out the neural net from the data they get from the returning virus clones. And because the amount of data coming back becomes very large very quickly, the first Cray was at it's limits by the end of the first day. Now the two of them have almost got the mapping out done between them."

"Are you telling me that the Crays are trying to reproduce and store Jayne's memories?"

Matthew shook his head. "No, not at all. We would need more than two Crays to do that. All they're doing at the moment is mapping out the neural net and continually refreshing it via the implant. The actual meaning, or content, of the information that the pathways and neural cells hold hasn't been considered yet. That will come later, when the Crays are finished. Until then, I've been accessing the map they've created on this computer to analyse the connections between Jayne's brain and the rest of her nervous system. I've concentrated on just her right arm and hand for the moment, and you've seen the results. But I've just been playing at it. When the Crays finish mapping out all of Jayne's neural net, which will probably be tomorrow, or the day after, I'll switch them over to this task, starting where I leave off. It'll be another week, maybe two, before they've finished making the connections between her neural net and the rest of her body."

"So when can we can think about accessing her memories?"

"Any time after that."

"And you'll use the Crays to do that, too?"

"No, with luck we won't need them anymore after that."

"I don't understand," Ben said, a puzzled expression on his face. "What will you use if you don't use the Crays?"

"We'll just ask Jayne. She should be awake by then."

"He's an arrogant little git, isn't he?" Julia said to a stunned looking Ben when he had returned to the monitoring room. She was still sitting at the nurses station, only now the pencil was stuck between her teeth. "'We'll just ask Jayne'," she mimicked, chewing on the end of the pencil. "That's what he thinks. If that slab of meat moves without one of you playing glove puppets, I'll take up nursing full time. In fact I'll specialise in the elderly and infirm."

Ben ignored her remarks and instead demanded, "You're in here all the time, why the hell didn't you see anything before?"

"Because that's the first time that extra from 'The Living Dead' in there has moved without mine or Sandra's hand up her back!" Julia retorted. "I swear it, Benjamin!"

"How can you be so sure Sandra hasn't seen any movement?"

"Because she never stops gabbing. If she'd seen our favourite corpse raise even so much as an eyebrow, she would have talked me to death about it before she went home. For God's sake, Ben, there's no one else she can tell about her marvellously exciting day except me, so give me some credit."

Ben was thoughtful for a moment before suddenly asking, "Are the Crays being downloaded each night as planned?"

Julia grunted. "Of course they are. And his mini-computer, and his lap-top, which he virtually sleeps with, so getting hold of that each night is a pain in the arse."

"Alright, alright! So it's a pain in the arse! So long as Tyler can use the data, I don't give a shit!" Ben almost shouted.

"Don't tell me you're not pleased that sleeping beauty is going to awake?" Julia said with heavy sarcasm. "I thought the whole point of this was to help these poor people? Think of the lives you could save, think of the publicity, Benjamin! Think of the profits, too! And think of Grant's smiling face when you tell him all about it!"

Ben glared at her. It was meant to shut her up, but all it did was make her laugh. "I don't think this is at all funny," Ben said sternly.

Julia's laughter increased when she saw how unamused Ben was. But finally it faded to a giggle, and she muttered, "Oh, Benjamin! Fancy starting out with motives like yours and ending up as a philanthropist. You have to see the funny side of it."

"There isn't a funny side of it, and you know it," Ben said in dismay.

Ben suddenly felt very depressed. He sat down at the nurses station next to Julia, took a deep breath and sighed, resting his head in his hands. He glanced at the monitor, seeing Matthew still sitting by his computer as before, then he turned his eyes towards Julia and said, "How can I tell Grant that our project to manipulate the human memory has turned into a great medical breakthrough?"

"By phone, long distance," Julia replied.

"Get serious, Julia."

"I am serious. There's still a lot of money to be made here, so if you tell him right, he might let you live." Julia shrugged her shoulders and added, "He might break off all your limbs at the trunk, but he'll let you live."

Ben was already shaking his head. "This medical breakthrough isn't going anywhere, at least not for a long while yet. If Grant can find a use for it, then it'll be worth something. But that will be someone else's job, not yours or mine. Our job was to find a method of permanently changing someone's mind. To remove what was once there and replace it with something totally new and different. People whose minds can be changed like that in a guaranteed, foolproof way can be very useful to the Corporation. Not just in the matter of easing corporate expansion strategies where money won't work and resistance is being met, but also in the matter of executing difficult and unsavoury tasks. As you well know yourself, finding the right person to carry out such tasks has always been a major problem. But if we can tailor make the person to fit the task, and then erase that person just as easily, then we will have a real breakthrough on our hands. And that's the breakthrough that Grant expects, not the reawakening of trauma victims. So unless we can glean something from the data we've downloaded to satisfy his expectation, we're all going to end up dead. Far more dead than Jayne Middleton ever was."

Jayne Middleton's body trembled. She lay in the bed twitching as if she was suffering from a mild electrical shock, which in some respects she was. Her movements weren't violent, but they were vigorous and persistent. Lots and lots of tiny twitches brought on by the program that the Crays were now executing.

The bandages and stitches had been removed from Jayne's head, and the bald patch at the back of her head where the implant had been inserted was now clearly visible. Her scalp was still red and bruised looking around the wound, but new hair growth was already evident. A small socket was attached to her skull at the same point. A cable plugged into this socket went up and along the wall before disappearing through a hole into Matthew's lab next door.

Matthew watched Jayne intently. Every so often he would stroke her hair, moving it to cover the socket and bald patch. Or he would pull up the sheet which kept slowly working it's way down as Jayne moved about. It had been like this for five days now, ever since the Crays began the task of identifying the pathways that linked Jayne's brain to her nervous system.

Sandra came in and stood by the bed, staring at Jayne. Sandra was forty-one, about five-foot-two, with short dark hair and a happy, friendly face. She had two grown up children (one of whom was married and expecting), was divorced for five years now, and had already booked her holiday to the South of France. Matthew had found all this out within a very short time of meeting her. He liked Sandra, and the two of them had got on well together right from the start.

Sandra shook her head. "It's not natural," she said to Matthew in a very strong mancunian accent. "I know you mean well, Matt, but it makes me shiver watching her moving about like that. What are you doing to the poor girl?"

"Don't worry, it's just the way the program works," Matthew replied. "Up to now, the Crays have only been refreshing the neural pathways in Jayne's brain with a very low electrical charge. Now they are using a much more stronger electrical charge to select and activate a single neural cell in Jayne's brain. This triggers all the pathways that are connected to it. Some of these pathways lead to nerve endings that control Jayne's body. The electrical charge is now strong enough to stimulate these nerves. The Crays then monitor the feedback from all the other neural cells in Jayne's brain, some of which may also have nerve endings connected to them. It's a bit more complicated than that, because one neural cell may trigger several others, and the Crays have a devil of a job sorting out all the responses they get back."

Sandra had wished she had never asked. She should know better by now. But one of the things she liked about Matthew was that he was always straight with you. Whatever you asked him, he told you. He never fobbed you off, assuming that you were too thick to understand. "But how do you know what each nerve does?" she asked him.

"Knowing exactly what's been triggered doesn't matter for now, what does matter is identifying the nerve endings that respond, and then matching them up to the neural cells that were first triggered."

"It matters to me," Sandra said indignantly as Matthew went back to his keyboard. "I have to clean up every time she has a little accident, and so far she's had three of those little accidents this morning, and they're all your fault!"

"Sorry, Sandra," Matthew replied apologetically. "It won't last much longer, I promise."

Sandra wagged her finger at him. "Good! Just so long as you know that you're in my bad books," she told him.

Matthew smiled. He had got to know Sandra very quickly, far more quickly than the other nurse. Julia was young and beautiful, a real eye-catcher, and she was always joking and making wise cracks. But Matthew had found it difficult to get to know her properly. Unlike Sandra who was always open and chatty, Julia never talked about her private life or how she felt, or what else was happening to her outside work. It was as if she didn't exist outside working hours. Maybe that was because she was on at night while Sandra was on during the day. A pity, really. It would have been nice to get to know her better.

Sandra had turned her attention to Jayne while Matthew was deep in thought. She was used to his silences, and put it down to a lack of sleep. First, she checked Jayne's temperature and her pulse, then she looked over the monitors and life support machines that kept Jayne alive. Finally, she began changing the nearly empty drip for a new one she had brought with her.

Matthew watched her. Or more correctly, he watched Jayne as Sandra tended to her. Now, Julia was beautiful, he had to admit, and if she had been more friendly he might have got to like her more. In fact, he always thought that blondes were his type. But Jayne was something else.

There was something about Jayne that had caught Matthew's attention from the moment he had first seen her. Even in a coma, with pipes and tubes everywhere, she was still beautiful. A dark haired beauty who was almost the reverse of Julia. And as she lay, serene in her bed, Matthew had grown more and more attracted to her. As the Crays had continued with their program, Jayne's eyes had occasionally fluttered and half opened. She had dark brown eyes, like her long hair. One day soon, she would open those eyes properly, and see him, Matthew was sure of it. And he couldn't wait for that day.

"How did you get her arm to move, then?" Sandra suddenly asked, breaking into Matthew's thoughts.

"What?"

"Aren't you listening to me?" Sandra said in mock annoyance, her hands on her hips.

"Sorry, I was miles away."

"Yeah, mooning over bright eyes I'll bet!"

Matthew went slightly red. "I was not!"

"Oh, yes you were! Tarty cow!"

"Sandra!" Matthew exclaimed, only realising now who Sandra was actually referring to. Except for the first day, Sandra and Julia only ever met when they changed over shifts, but Matthew was well aware that Sandra wasn't too keen on Julia. "You hardly know her, Sandra. You shouldn't say things like that."

"You hardly know her, either!" Sandra replied, and wagging a finger at him again, she went on, "I'm telling you, Matt, you're wasting your time with that one. There's more to her than meets the eye. She's never been a professional nurse, that's for sure. Oh, she knows her stuff, alright. But she does it all slightly differently, not like someone with experience, someone who's done it all before. I wouldn't trust her as far as I could chuck her. If you ask me, you'd be much better off with this one in bed than you would be with the likes of her."

Matthew glanced at Jayne. Her teeth were chattering and there were beads of sweat on her face and brow. The exertion the program the Crays were executing was taking it's toll. Jayne's body had been under stimulation for nearly a week now. Matthew had been with her most of that time, retiring to his apartment for no more than four or five hours each night. But Jayne had had no respite. How her muscles must ache. As he stared at her in the bed, he wondered if Sandra knew how much closer to the real truth she had been with that last remark.

"But we don't know much about her, either," he said, becoming thoughtful once more.

Two weeks he had known Jayne Middleton. And during that time he had spent almost every waking hour with her. Always he was near her, close to her. He had watched her for hours during the night. Watched her sleeping and breathing. Watched her face and body. There were many occasions when he could have taken advantage of his position and moved the sheet aside and looked more closely. But he never had. He remembered how he had seen Jayne's body on that first day, and the way the technicians had treated her so callously, and how it had upset him. He could never treat her like that.

Sandra wiped Jayne's brow with a face cloth. "The poor thing, you're tiring her out," she said.

Matthew sighed. "It won't last much longer. And it gets easier after this."

"Is that when you think she'll wake up?"

"I hope so." God, how he meant those words.

Sandra stood with her hands on her hips again. "Well, are you going to answer my question, or not?" she demanded.

"What question?"

"Oh, mercy!" Sandra exclaimed, rolling her eyes heavenward. She repeated her question again. "If you don't know what all the nerve thingys are connected to, how did you make her hand move?"

"Oh, yes! That's easy! I moved her hand and fingers about and monitored which neural cells responded. Then I stimulated the same neural cells with my mini-computer. It took a while for me to program my computer to move her hand and fingers properly, but the Crays will do it much quicker, you'll see."

"I know I'm going to hate myself for this, but how? They've been at it for five days, and so far all they've succeeded in doing is make my job harder."

Matthew grinned at her. "What they learn they don't forget. When they're finished this program, I'll start them on the next one, and that's when you'll see something."

"It's not a problem, Ben. Just have confidence in your people."

Ben stared at Glen Tyler. He wasn't impressed. But if Tyler was confident of getting the results they needed from the data downloaded from the Crays, than why should he worry?

Glen Tyler was one of the Corporation's best computer men. His field was artificial intelligence, and Grant had insisted that Tyler be involved with Matthew's research from the start. They were standing in the Corporation's computer centre in Exchange Quay, surrounded by technicians in white coats. The computer centre was on the eighth floor, within eyesight of the MedTec Offices in Salford Quays, but no one there even knew that it existed.

Every night since the project began, the data from Matthew's computers had been downloaded to the IBM mainframe for analysis. There were four Cray computers linked to the IBM, and Tyler had used them to simulate Matthew's results. He was very intelligent and equally as confident. He was also very patronising.

"Let Hall carry on with his work," Tyler went on, putting his arm around Ben's shoulders and walking him towards his office. "Even if he succeeds in waking the girl from her coma, it's not a problem. In fact, it's a bonus."

"How can that be a bonus?" Ben snapped, freeing himself from Tyler's arm. "The last thing we want is her running about, asking questions and causing us more problems!"

"Ah! But she won't!" Tyler said, holding his finger up in front of Ben's nose. "Because that's when she ceases to be his field trial, and becomes ours."

They had reached Tyler's office, and as soon as the door was closed Tyler became excited. "I can make this work, Ben!" he said. "The data we've obtained is remarkable! A complete neural net, all mapped out! And we've already started reclaiming small amounts of her memory. I've had them verified with her records, and they're accurate, Ben. Do you realise how important this is? And now we're beginning to recognise how to control her nervous system, too!"

"Marvellous, I'm ecstatic," Ben said in tones that obviously meant that he wasn't. He sat down on one of the chairs by Tyler's desk and said, "But tell me this, Glen. It's been over two weeks now, so have you managed to input anything yet? I know it's great getting all this stuff out, but it's putting it in that counts. Or have you forgotten that?"

Tyler sat down behind his desk. "The reception and transmission from the radio in the implant is perfect. We could download information at any time-"

"But have you?" Ben interrupted him.

"Now is not the time-"

"You mean 'no'!" Ben interrupted again.

Tyler looked annoyed, but he kept his calm. "You know as well as I that downloading information to a woman in a coma would be useless. We have to wait for her to awake before we can begin."

"No!" Now Ben waved his finger at Tyler. "You put something in now, do you hear me! I want Grant to see an immediate result. Because if, or when, she wakes up, there could be no time to carry out an effective memory alteration. We could be too busy sorting out the mess."

Tyler was flustered. "But we have much more important work to do analysing the data!" he insisted. "With the implant, we could download any time!"

"Not when she's conscious. She'll be aware of the changes."

"But she isn't conscious yet. And, anyway, we don't know that!"

"We don't know anything yet!" Ben pointed out. "We don't really know if we can download any data until we've tried it, we don't know if it'll stick if we can download it, and we don't even know whether any of this will come to anything. Even if she remembered what you put in, she could ignore it. All we do know for sure is that Matthew seems to be getting along just fine!"

"Alright! I'll prove it to you!" Tyler announced. "I'll have something downloaded by the end of today. And I'll guarantee that she won't forget it or ignore it. But remember this, you won't see anything unless she wakes up, and you will have succeeded in diverting my people from more important work."

"I decide what's important," Ben said. "I am in charge, remember?"

Glen Tyler sat back in his chair and folded his arms. "Yes, Ben," he said, calm again. "You are in charge, and responsible for this project."

They stared at one another in a brief silence. Ben was well aware of Tyler's meaning when he said that he was responsible as well as in charge. If anything went wrong, Tyler would be quick to blame him. And Tyler was Grant's chosen man.

There was a tap on the door, and they both looked up as Rawlston came into the office without waiting for an answer.

"How dare you come in like that!" Tyler snapped at him.

"Rawlston can come in whenever he likes," Ben told him. Then, turning to Rawlston, he added, "Provided he's got something important to tell me."

Rawlston took his cue. "I thought you ought to know, sir. She's breathing on her own. All the machines are off."

Sandra stared at Jayne in utter disbelief. She had never dreamed that what Matthew was trying to do would actually work. But now she did believe.

Her doubts weren't surprising, really. Nothing ever seemed to happen. Each day since Sandra had started work at MedTec, Matthew would sit typing at his keyboard all day and often into the night without any apparent success, or change, in Jayne's condition. He would be there first thing in the morning when she arrived, and he would still be there when she left in the evening. Matthew was working very hard, and he was obviously very motivated. But still, nothing seemed to happen.

True, Sandra had been a little shocked when Matthew had showed her how he could make Jayne's hand and arm move. But that just seemed to be a trick he did with his computer. Jayne wasn't awake, or anything like that. Even when Jayne started trembling and losing control of her body, Sandra was still unprepared for what would come.

It was at 3.25 in the afternoon. Sandra would never forget it.

"That's it, Sandra!" Matthew had announced a short time before as Sandra was changing Jayne's gown for a clean one.

"That's what?" Sandra had asked, not too interested. Jayne had had several little accidents that day, and Sandra had been kept busy keeping her and the bed clean.

"The Crays have finished. No more extra cleaning duties from now on!"

"Well, I'm glad to hear that! And I bet Julia will be too. And that must be the first and only time I'll really know what she's thinking!"

Matthew had smiled at her. Sandra had finished what she was doing and loaded all the soiled linen into a laundry basket. When she looked up, Matthew was still smiling at her. "Now what?" she had asked him.

"We switch the life support machines off."

Sandra had thought that she hadn't heard him right. But he had quickly explained.

According to Matthew, the computers had finished learning which parts of Jayne's brain controlled her body. This included the nerves that controlled her lungs, and that's why they no longer needed the life support machines. The implant in Jayne's head could now stimulate her diaphragm directly through her brain, and so inflate and deflate her lungs normally.

Sandra hadn't believed him, and she had argued that they should wait. But Matthew was adamant that it would work, and that Jayne would be alright.

Sandra had taken away the laundry basket and finished cleaning up in a daze. Her mind had been full of confusion. If Matthew switched off the machines and Jayne died, who would be responsible? But Matthew was so confident, and Sandra wasn't in any real position to stop him switching the machines off if he really wanted to. The only thing she was sure of was that she wasn't going to be the one to pull the plug.

When Sandra had returned to the room and it came to the final moment, she had refused to do it, and in the end Matthew had been the one to switch off the ventilator. Sandra had then removed the tubes from Jayne's mouth, her hands shaking. And that was when it happened.

Matthew typed for a few seconds on his keyboard and Jayne breathed. It was exactly 3.25 in the afternoon and Sandra would never forget it.

"Sandra's already checked her out," Matthew said as Ben stood next to him by Jayne's bed. "Her pulse and blood pressure are fine, and as you can see, she's breathing normally."

Ben stared at Jayne Middleton. Apart from the cable connected to her head, and the drip feeding into her arm, she looked perfectly healthy and alive. And as Matthew had said, she was breathing normally.

"It's going to work, isn't it?" Ben said in a subdued voice.

Matthew sighed. "I hope so, Ben. Everything has gone to plan so far." Matthew folded his arms as he stared down at Jayne with Ben. "The implant is working fine. The Crays have programmed it with the neural pathways that control Jayne's body. That way the implant can always keep her alive no matter what."

"What are the Crays doing now?" Ben asked him.

"Nothing. They're idle, and have been for a couple of days."

Ben looked up at Matthew. "Only the implant is keeping her breathing?"

Matthew nodded. "That's right, that is what it was supposed to do," he replied. "Up to now, one of the Crays has been using the information they both learned about Jayne's neural pathways during the first week to slowly reform them. And even while the other Cray was identifying the connections between Jayne's brain and the rest of her nervous system during the second week, the first Cray has continued with the process of stimulating and refreshing her neural pathways. That refreshing has gradually caused the pathways between each neural cell to be reformed. For the last two days the implant has been supplying the energy to continue that refreshing process. During that time I've been running lots of diagnostic tests on it. I wanted to be sure that everything was working right before the ventilator was switched off today."

"And you don't need the Crays at all anymore?"

"No, they've done their job. Jayne's brain itself is now the storage medium for her neural net once more. I can even unplug her from the Crays." Before Ben could protest, Matthew leaned forward and pulled the cable from the socket in the back of Jayne's head. Jayne continued to breathe unaffected.

Ben stared at Jayne. He was genuinely amazed at what Matthew had been able to do, but he couldn't help having that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "So what happens now?" he asked.

"We wait and see if she wakes up."

"And if she doesn't?"

Matthew shrugged his shoulders. "Then I've failed, I suppose. I can still write up my thesis, I think I've got enough to get my Phd. But I'll always feel sad that I couldn't get her back."

Ben patted Matthew on the back. "You've done far more than you'll need for any Phd, Matthew," he said with a smile. "I'm going to the monthly board meeting this week, so I'll be away for a few days. But you can be sure that I'll let them all know what a damn fine job you've done here. Keep at it, Matthew! Remember, you've still got another week and a half left!"

Matthew smiled as Ben left, but the smile quickly faded.

A week and a half left.

When Jayne had started breathing on her own, Matthew had been full of enthusiasm. But as the hours passed, and Jayne didn't stir or awake, he became more and more depressed. Everything had been going so well that he had come to believe that he was going to succeed. The implant was working fine, her neural net had been reformed and was being refreshed, all she had to do was wake up. But still she lay there, unmoving, unthinking.

After Ben left, Matthew spent the rest of the day and the whole night with Jayne, waiting and hoping for some change. But it was no use.

The following morning, Sandra carried out a brain scan with the help of a MedTec technician. They even used equipment that MedTec produced themselves. They repeated the test every two hours, but always the results were the same. There was no brain activity other than the rhythmic waves produced by the refreshing process.

Matthew couldn't understand it. He had checked everything over and over again, and it was all working fine, but still nothing was happening. It was such a very basic process. The implant acted like a starter motor with Jayne's brain as the engine. It continually refreshed the neural pathways until Jayne's brain finally came to life. But Jayne's brain refused to start. The implant kept cranking, but there was no life in the engine.

The door opened and Sandra came in. "Any change?" she asked as she came to stand next to Matthew. He shook his head.

Sandra looked at Matthew sadly. He hadn't shaved and he looked a right mess. Although he was still sitting at his keyboard, he no longer typed on it. In fact she hadn't seen him touch a single key the whole day. He looked really down.

"Maybe we should talk to her," she suggested.

"What?" Matthew looked puzzled as he stared at Sandra.

"Talk to her," Sandra repeated. "It's normal practice with people in comas. You try and stimulate them by talking to them, or playing their favourite records, or just reading to them. It sometimes works quite well."

Matthew grinned and suddenly sprang from his chair and hugged Sandra. "You're a genius!" he exclaimed, and began to dance her round the room despite her protests. "An absolute genius!"

"Stop it, Matt! Somebody might come in!" Sandra said, growing redder by the second.

Matthew stopped dancing her about and held her at arms length. "I love you, Sandra! You're a genius!" He suddenly kissed her. "External stimulation! That's exactly what she needs! This place is dead! It's too quiet! That's why she won't wake up! Get some tapes, Sandra! Any tapes! Your favourite tapes! And CD's! I can play CD's on my mini-computer! I'll get a tape deck and some big speakers! Really big speakers!" Matthew grabbed a now very shocked and embarrassed Sandra by the hand and ran towards the door, pulling her with him. "Come on, Sandra! By the time we've finished, this room is going to be booming louder than a Ford Escort on Saturday night!"

"Are you sure this won't hurt?" Julia Connors said.

"Of course it won't hurt," Glen Tyler replied curtly. He was busy attaching more electrodes to Julia's head, and her continual protests were annoying him. "There's nothing to be alarmed at. It's all perfectly safe."

Julia still wasn't convinced. When Tyler had contacted her early that morning and asked her to go over to the computer centre in Exchange Quay, this was the last thing she had expected. She was sitting in the middle of the computer centre with so many little electrodes attached to her head that they could have hung her outside the window and they would have taken her weight.

"But why me?" Julia continued to protest. "Why not use one of your own technicians? Or Sam?"

"Because they don't have what we want, and Rawlston is a man."

"Gosh! I'm glad you told me! I've always wondered why Sam peed standing up!" Julia exclaimed in mock surprise. Tyler didn't look very impressed, so Julia continued, "So what have I got that they haven't? And why is being a man a problem?" Julia then shrugged and added, "Well, apart from the obvious, I suppose."

When Julia shrugged, all the electrodes and wires jumped, and some of them fell off. Tyler shook his head in exasperation.

Fitting the electrodes to Julia's head was hard enough without her moving about aswell. When she had first arrived, Tyler had wanted to shave part of her head to make it easier, but Julia had backed away when she saw the razor, saying, "You are not coming near me with that!" and threatened to attack anyone who tried. Tyler had given up.

"Will you stop moving around," he demanded. "I've got a flight to catch today, and if I miss it because you keep fidgeting, I'll make sure that Grant knows it was your fault!"

"Alright, alright! Keep your knickers on! I'll sit still." Julia pointed her finger at him. "But I'm warning you, if this hurts one little bit, I'll get even! I mean it!"

"It won't hurt at all. Now stop complaining."

"Then answer my questions. If it's so safe, why not use one of your own technicians?"

"Because they aren't field agents," Tyler replied as he started to replace the fallen electrodes. "They don't have the necessary expertise that I want. You and Rawlston do. But he is a man, and I don't want the sexual difference to cause any problems. Not that I think it would, but it's better to be safe at this early stage. There is a lot more analysis of the data we have retrieved yet to be done, so I wouldn't even be doing this if Ben hadn't insisted that we download something to the subject of our field trial. He wanted something that will have an immediate and noticeable effect as soon as she wakes. Well, he's going to get it.

"You and Rawlston have a particular trait. It comes from a long association with the Corporation while carrying out it's most sinister affairs. It's a knowing sort of loyalty, one linked irrevocably with fear. A sort of worldly wisdom that comes from dealing in the dirt that we scientists and other personnel are shielded from. When Jayne Middleton wakes up, I want her to have that same wisdom, I want her to have that same understanding and acceptance of the Corporation. She won't question where she is, or what happened to her, she'll know. She'll know and accept it all as her own memories."

"You're wasting your time," Julia said derisively. "You could download the Encyclopedia Britannica into sleeping beauty's head and you'll still get no results. If she wakes up, I'll eat my first born."

"She's already breathing on her own."

"I know, but so does a sponge. Try having a conversation with one."

"We'll see." Tyler stepped back. The last electrode was finally in place at last. "This would have been much easier if you had let us shave your hair in a few places," he remarked.

"Go suck," was Julia's tart reply.

Tyler sighed. It was very incongruous hearing such remarks coming from a woman with such a pure upper-class voice. He went over to the IBM mainframe where his technicians were all waiting expectantly, and sat down next to them at a desk in front of a keyboard and monitor. They began to go over their notes and discuss levels and neural pathways.

Julia was temporarily left on her own, sitting there feeling like a medusa that hadn't had a snake cut in ten years. She tapped her feet nervously as she stared at the wires that trailed across the floor to the computer from the electrodes on her head. She wondered how long this was all going to take. She would only get a few hours rest before she would have to be back at the MedTec building to relieve Rawlston in the monitoring room, so the last thing she wanted to be doing was sitting here, wasting time.

She had come here straight after her night shift, hardly pausing to speak to Sandra for more than a few moments before she left. She was still wearing her nurses uniform, and she couldn't wait to get home, take it off and have a shower. It had been a long night, Hall had been a pain in the arse, moaning all the time that his narcaleptic girlfriend wouldn't wake up. By the time morning came, Julia would have been quite happy to put him to sleep with her. Now she felt tired and hungry, and was already looking forward to the pizza she was planning to buy on her way home.

"Right! Here we go!" Tyler announced, and began to type on the keyboard.

Julia's head began to tingle all over, and her blonde hair stood on end from the static. "Ow!" she shouted.

"Don't be such a big baby!" Tyler called to her. "It'll be over in a few seconds."

"I don't like this!" Julia wailed. "Turn it off!"

"Just a moment! It'll be finished soon."

"Turn it off!"

"Just a few more seconds."

"Turn it off! Now!" Julia almost screamed.

The tingling stopped, and slowly, Julia's hair began to descend back to it's normal position.

"There! It's finished! I told you it wouldn't take long," Tyler said as he got up and came towards her.

Julia didn't wait for him to reach her. She quickly tore all the electrodes from her head, flinging them in all directions. Then she stood up. It was a mistake, because she immediately felt light-headed, and swayed on her feet. Tyler had reached her by then and held on to her, steadying her.

"You might feel a little bit dizzy for a while, but it will pass," he told her.

Julia looked up at him in a daze, but in a few seconds her expression hardened, and she quickly stamped on his foot. Tyler cried out with the unexpected pain, let go of her, and dropped down onto the chair she had previously been sitting on. "What did you do that for?" he demanded as he clutched at his toe.

"I told you I'd get even!" she announced in triumph. "Hurts does it? Well, serves you right! I'm leaving!" And she did just that, storming out of the computer centre without another word.

Tyler was left sitting on the chair, still rubbing his toe. He could feel it beginning to throb. "Maniac," he muttered.

One of the technicians came over to him. "Mr Tyler," he said, "Have a look at this." He held out a computer print out which Tyler took from him and read carefully.

"This can't be right," Tyler said, the pain in his toe suddenly forgotten. "That's a colossal amount of memory space. Far too much memory space for what we transferred."

"That's what we thought. It nearly filled one of the Crays."

"And it's all been downloaded to the implant?"

"Yes sir, the radio link worked fine, and it all went through a treat."

"We must have under-estimated the amount of memory space we needed. Check over the figures again, just to be sure."

As the technician hurried away to do as he requested, Tyler stared at the print out and rubbed his forehead. This wasn't exactly what he had planned, but Ben Watkins had wanted something downloaded, and now that's what he had got. And with the amount of data that this print out indicated, it would definitely be noticeable if, and when, Jayne Middleton woke up.

The Corporation's headquarters were in Hackensack, New Jersey. Ben Watkins and Glen Tyler flew over together. The conversation during their journey never once included the project. They were both far too experienced to chance giving anything away before they were at the meeting.

The building was very impressive, especially as you drove up. It was all steel and glass, surrounded by perfect lawns and numerous fountains. The style was a perfect blend of modern architecture with historical elegance and majesty. More like a glass palace built for the twenty-first century, than an office building.

The building was supposed to project an image of power and purity, but Ben always found it intimidating. That was because he knew that the power the building represented was very real, whereas the purity was definitely lacking in it's many corridors and rooms. Like the man that ran the Corporation, the building was cold and without heart.

The boardroom was just as impressive as the building. It was the size of a tennis court, with oak panelled walls and deep leather chairs. The table was also made of oak. It was immense and heavy. Gloriously varnished, it was shiny and black, and inlaid with many different types of wood. Gold leaf decorated it's edges.

Ben knew most of the people who sat around the table, although there were a few who were unfamiliar to him. All of them except for one were men in dark suits. She wore red. A scarlet flower in a sea of black. Her name was Rosanna Casarotto, and she was the Corporation's Head of Special Projects. That was a glorified title to describe Grant's hatchet woman. But there was no doubt in Ben's mind that Santa Monica had been a Special Project.

There was a lot of general chit-chat as colleagues greeted one another in a friendly manner, disguising the bitter rivalry that would manifest itself at the moment of business. Even Rosanna Casarotto smiled demurely and poured coffee. It was like watching a cat offering cheese to the mice.

All conversation ceased when Grant came in. A Scotsman, Douglas Grant was in his late fifties. He was tall and grey haired, and totally without heart. As a major share holder, he had wrested control of the Corporation in a bitter boardroom fight many years ago. Since then, he had successfully fought off all opposition with a ruthless determination that bordered on paranoia. As a result, he was very hard and unforgiving. He expected a hundred percent success from his team, and anyone who had the temerity, or misfortune, to come to the boardroom and present failure was devoured without remorse. It was a winning formula, and the Corporation's fortunes had soared under his leadership.

Everyone quickly took their places in the sudden hush. Glen Tyler sat on the opposite side of the table from Ben. Ben knew that it was a political as well as a physical divide, and at the moment of truth, Tyler would surely knife him.

"Good morning, everyone," Grant said in a booming voice. Even though he hadn't set foot in Scotland in over forty years, his accent was still strong. His team returned the greeting as one, referring to him as Mr Grant, like school children greeting a teacher. Ben did the same, you never knew who might be watching.

Ben's project was the twenty-fifth item on the agenda. It took three hours to get there. And during that time, several board members were highly praised for their efforts while two were screamed and bawled at. Ben had watched, the sweat glistening on his face, as the two hapless victims had squirmed and wriggled. But there was no escape, and they had both been verbally chewed to pieces. Ben had also watched Rosanna Casarotto. She had said nothing, but had quietly circled the two names on her agenda.

Grant stared down at his copy of the agenda, brushing aside the crumbs that were all that remained of the biscuits that had accompanied the coffee. They were like the ancient remnants of a much kinder time, long gone, but not forgotten.

"Item twenty-five, Mr Watkins!" Grant bellowed. "You're costing me a fortune! What have you ta tell me?"

Even though he knew he was next, when Grant shouted his name, Ben was still startled. "Everything is going according to plan, Mr Grant," he said almost too quickly.

"Oh, aye? It is, is it?" Grant said, far too sweetly. "And who's plan might that be? Ours, or Matthew Hall's?"

Ben glanced nervously at Glen Tyler. But Tyler kept his head down, as if reading his notes. "Both, Mr Grant," Ben replied as forcefully as he could. "When I left, the subject of the field trial had been disconnected from the ventilator and was breathing on her own. Her neural net has already been recovered, and Mr Tyler's computer people are already analysing-"

"Donnae steal his glory, Mr Watkins!" Grant interrupted in a loud voice. "Mr Tyler will have his own say in a moment. Stick to your own report."

Ben nodded. "Yes, Mr Grant," he said obediently, and took a deep breath before continuing. "As you so rightly pointed out, the project has taken an unexpected turn. But I believe this to be a bonus rather than a failure. Matthew Hall is confident of re- awakening the subject of the field trial, and the benefits of this will far exceed our original intent." Ben stopped talking as he saw Grant raise his hand.

As silence fell in the room, Grant sat back and lowered his hand. "Let me just recap for a moment," he said in a much quieter voice. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Mr Watkins, but the purpose of this extremely expensive project was threefold:" He began to count off the points on his fingers. "One, ta extract information from a person's mind without them knowing; Two, ta alter a person's memory permanently, again without them being aware of the change; And three, ta create such a change in a person's mind that their very personality and beliefs are altered forever. Not a very run of the mill project, you must agree.

"Now, all this is very expensive, but if the project succeeds, then the benefits will vastly outweigh the costs. A measurement of success for this project is in achieving any one of the objectives I have already mentioned. You have tried ta inform us that you have. But that's Mr Tyler's field, and his moment of glory, not yours. Because he's the technologist, while you are the business-man. Your role is in managing the project. Like the captain of a ship, you have ta guide it through the murky waters that lie between the rocks of financial ruin and technological failure.

"So, Mr Watkins, have you achieved your objectives? Is the project still on course and in safe waters under your steady guidance? Or have we merely spent a fortune in reviving some irrelevant person from the North of England?"

Ben knew that he was on the spot. There was only one answer he could give, and as soon as he gave it, he knew that Grant would pounce. Even now, Rosanna Casarotto had raised her pen and was waiting patiently for Ben to go down with his ship.

Ben's saviour came from an unexpected source. Glen Tyler coughed politely, and said, "Excuse me, Mr Grant, but I believe that Mr Watkins is correct, even despite the apparent loss of control in the project's direction."

"Oh, you do, do you?" Grant said, his eyebrows raised in obvious surprise. "And why do you believe that, Mr Tyler? Please tell us, we are all listening."

Grant waved his hand at the people around the table. He was right, they were all listening. None more so than Ben Watkins. Like the rest of them, he couldn't understand why Tyler had done the verbal equivalent of hurling himself on someone else's funeral pyre.

"As you pointed out, Mr Grant," Tyler began. "There are three objectives to the project. But the purpose of this field trial was to achieve only the first objective, to retrieve information from the subject's mind. This has been achieved successfully, as Ben Watkins inferred, and as you will see in my written report.

"However, the current loss in the project's direction has opened up a very interesting prospect. And that is the possibility of achieving both the second and third objectives within the same field trial. This has many benefits. Firstly, any delays in finding suitable subjects for the next field trials will be eliminated, leading to an acceleration in the project's overall timescales. And, secondly, the current subject is ideal for the final field trial, I don't think we could find anyone better.

"What isn't in my report, Mr Grant, is that my people have already input data into the subject's memory at Ben Watkins request, and checked it several days later. It doesn't degrade. Although we cannot be totally sure of success unless the subject reawakes, I am now confident that the second objective can be achieved. I want to press on to the third.

"Mr Grant, I believe we can succeed in achieving this third objective. I believe we can alter the subject's mind to such an extent that she will not even question her environment, nor her motives. But to do that, we first need Matthew Hall to succeed. We need that woman both alive and awake. Because of all this, I propose that we extend this field trial indefinitely, or at least until the board thinks that it has gained all benefit from it. I know this means that we will lose some valuable data from the implant, and the cost of the implant itself. But the ability to reawaken trauma victims from their comas could be highly lucrative for the Corporation's medical subsidiaries, and this will more than recoup for those losses."

Ben sat stunned after Tyler had finished. He was amazed at the way Tyler had so casually and unexpectedly succeeded in saving him, while at the same time openly blaming him for mishandling the project.

Now the only sound to break the silence in the room was Rosanna Casarotto dropping her pen on the oak table in obvious dismay. Even Grant sat thoughtful for a few seconds, his head down.

"Mr Watkins," Grant finally said without raising his head. "What are the implications of extending the field trial as Mr Tyler proposes?"

Ben swallowed. "None, apart from the obvious."

Grant raised his head. "The obvious?"

"The deadline when the relatives of the deceased are expecting the return of her body."

"When is that?"

Tyler answered Grant's question. "Fifteenth of May," he said. "Next Friday, in fact."

Grant turned his head slightly towards Rosanna Casarotto. "Deal with it," he said. Immediately Rosanna nodded, and taking up her pen, she began to make a note. Grant then turned back to Tyler.

"Your proposal is accepted, Mr Tyler," he said. And eyeing Ben sternly, he added, "As for you, Mr Watkins, I'll expect a revised schedule from you for the project by tomorrow morning. And this time, I will not tolerate any slippage. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Mr Grant."

"Good." Grant stared down at his agenda. "Item twenty-six. Mr Collins!"

Sam Rawlston opened the door to the monitoring room and was suddenly deafened by loud music and someone talking in a very loud voice. He quickly stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Julia Connors was sitting by the monitor dancing on her chair. Her body swayed and moved to the beat of 'You Sexy Thing' as she swivelled back and forth on her chair. The music and the loud voice completely filled the room. Rawlston couldn't help smiling.

"Some people have the hardest jobs!" he almost shouted.

Julia looked round and smiled at him. "Welcome to Radio MedTec!" she shouted back. "Seventies music a specialty! And it's all courtesy of our resident DJ's Super Seventies Sandra, and I've Got No Rhythm Hall!"

Rawlston laughed as he walked towards her. He raised his hand and sliced it across his throat in an obvious gesture, and Julia turned down the volume. Rawlston stared at the picture on the monitor. There were tapes and CD's strewn all across Jayne Middleton's bed, and Matthew was sitting by his computer reading the morning newspaper out load. He was shouting above the music.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked.

"Since last night," Julia replied. "Hall brought the music system into the room yesterday afternoon," she pointed at the speakers, tape deck and amplifiers that were now littered around the room, "and Sandra brought in the seventies stuff this morning. Until then, it wasn't so bad. Hall had a few good CD's, but it was mostly classical stuff. Sandra is definitely a seventies retard."

"If it was that loud in here, what's it like in there?"

"I don't know. The last time I went in there I wore ear plugs."

"Ben would go nuts if he knew what was going on."

"Why? There's nothing wrong with a little music."

"There is if it wakes her up."

Julia laughed. "You would need a speaker the size of Jodrell Bank to wake up that slab of meat. She was dead before she got here, and she'll be just as dead when she leaves. There's no way that she's going to wake up. She is definitely mutton."

"And you're all heart," Rawlston quickly added.

Julia grinned very sweetly and falsely. "You're so kind!" she said, fluttering her eyelids.

Rawlston continued to stare at the monitor screen in concern. "I still think we should stop this," he said.

"And how will you explain that to the Music Master in there?" Julia asked him. "How about, 'Sorry, but we don't want the loud music to wake up Nefertiti because next week we're going to slice her head in half to retrieve our expensive implant?'"

Rawlston eyed Julia. He wasn't impressed by her sarcasm, but she had obviously spent far too much time with the subject of the field trial to remain impartial. "Something tells me that when the time does come to retrieve the implant for analysis, you will be standing at the front of the queue with a machete."

"After all the cleaning up I've had to do over the past few weeks, I'd use a chain saw."

"You do know that if she wakes up, that might never happen?"

"And I'm a fairy Godmother who works for an organisation that loves people," Julia said in a light-hearted voice. And picking up a pencil from the desk, she tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Zing! You're an expert whose every word is considered to be of momentous significance!" Then she added more bitterly, "Get serious, Sam! There's no way her head is going to survive in one piece passed Friday!"

Rawlston grunted. "I am being serious," he said. "There's a hell of a lot of money in this, and there's no way the Corporation will just throw it all away if there's the remotest chance of a payback."

"The only payback they'll get from her is if they sell her by the pound."

"Not if she's awake by Friday," Rawlston insisted.

"It'll never happen. She'll leave here just as dead as when she got here, a little more deaf maybe, but just as dead."

Rawlston could see that Julia was very sure of herself. But she always was. He decided to take advantage of that confidence. After all, unlike him, she didn't know what he knew. "Would you like to bet on that?" he said.

"Next months paycheck?"

"You're on!"

They slapped hands and then Rawlston turned to leave. "Ben will be back tomorrow," he said as he walked to the door. "It will be up to him to decide what to do. But if that music stays on, I'm telling you, I'll be spending your paycheck next month."

"Nuts!" Julia replied, and turned up the volume on the monitor before Rawlston could say anything more.

Rawlston paused at the door to glance back at her. She was already dancing on her chair again. He shook his head in dismay and left.

The music was as loud as usual on Friday morning. By now, Matthew had two days growth on his chin, and he looked a right state. But still he read the morning newspapers out loud to Jayne, and still there was no response.

Julia had left that morning with a smile on her face. It had surprised both Matthew and Sandra. When Sandra had stared at him in a questioning manner, Matthew had shrugged.

"It's nothing to do with me," he had said.

Sandra had still eyed him suspiciously.

The results of the brain scan that day were the same as always, still no significant change. But Matthew didn't give up. He turned up the volume after Sandra and the coloured technician had left, and went on to the next daily newspaper.

As usual, Matthew had started with the broadsheets, supposedly the more intellectual and high brow of the national daily newspapers. Then he went on to the tabloids. He left the scandal sheets to the last. He read everything out loud, from beginning to end, even holding the newspaper over Jayne so that she could see the pictures. By now, Matthew knew more about the news than a BBC newsreader.

At four-thirty in the afternoon, Matthew started on the local newspapers. Sandra brought them in for him.

"I don't know how you can stand much more of this," she said. "You're going to go deaf."

"What?" Matthew turned the music down.

"Never mind!" Sandra replied and quickly left.

Matthew smiled as he turned the volume back up again.

"Manchester Evening News, first," he said to Jayne, and began to read the headlines.

The main news was the same as it had been for the rest of the national newspapers, and Matthew now hardly paid any attention to what he was saying. The local news was a bit more interesting, well, only because it was different.

"Three killed in blast," Matthew read out as he sat back in his chair. "An explosion killed three people in Oldham in the early hours of this morning. Two Fire Appliances were called out to fight the resulting blaze which spread to three houses in a quiet residential area.

"Investigators later blamed a faulty gas main for the explosion, and said that all three houses would have to be pulled down.

"Those killed in the blast were John Davies, a young man living on his own in one of the houses, and an elderly couple, Graham and Amanda Middleton, who were asleep in the house next door to where the blast occu-"

Matthew stopped in mid flow and sat up, staring at Jayne. He was shocked. Not just because he had suddenly realised what he was reading, that the surname of the elderly couple that had died was the same as Jayne's, but also because he was sure that he had seen Jayne's body twitch out of the corner of his eye. As he continued to stare at her, Jayne now remained still. There was no movement except for her regular breathing. But Matthew was sure of what he had seen.

With rising excitement, Matthew quickly turned the music off and re-read the news article, raising his voice and speaking very clearly and deliberately when he got to the appropriate part.

"Those killed in the blast were John Davies, a young man living on his own in one of the houses, and an elderly couple, Graham and Amanda Middleton, who were asleep in the house next door to where the blast occurred."

Again Jayne twitched. Her whole body seemed to shiver. With his heart pounding in his chest, Matthew continued with the story.

"Neighbours said that it was quite sad, as Mr and Mrs Middleton had lost their only daughter in a car accident only a few months earlier...."

Matthew's voice trailed off as he saw Jayne's mouth open. As he stared at her, she took a deep breath and sighed, and her voice moaned softly.

Everything was fuzzy. She felt like she was a long way away from everything, that everything was just out of reach, and out of sight. Even the sounds she heard were faint and distant. It was like listening to the news on an old radio programme. She was so tired, and it was all too much bother to try and reach out for and listen to. It was far easier to just rest and dream. But the news was about her mother and father, and quite suddenly she knew that they were both dead.

It wasn't fair, it was supposed to be her. She was the one who was supposed to be dead, not them. But she wasn't dead, was she? She was alive. How could that be?

She was the living dead, a corpse, a sleeping beauty, a slab of meat.

Why was she thinking these things? Then she remembered.

It was a white rabbit.

Jayne remembered it vividly. It was exactly like Harvey. Harvey had been her pet when she was twelve. She loved Harvey. He was so big and white and fluffy. She had named him after the film with James Stewart. She took him everywhere with her, even in her bedroom. Her mother would tell her off when she found the little packages Harvey would leave behind. She made Jayne play with him in the garden.

Then one day he had escaped. Harvey was always nosey, sniffing around for anything new, or anything he could eat. Jayne had only left him alone in the garden for a moment, when her mother had called her in to greet her friends who had come to visit. But in those precious few seconds, Harvey had managed to get out of the garden and wander off. The road was very busy, and Jayne had cried for weeks and weeks.

And suddenly, twelve years later, there he was. Sitting in the middle of the road, his nose twitching. The lights from her car shone back at her in his eyes. She was sure it was him. It was impossible, she knew. But it was definitely him. She couldn't run him over again, she just couldn't. But he wouldn't move, he just sat there, staring at her.

She swerved, there was a lamp-post, and then there was a medic and an ambulance. She was going to ask about Harvey, but the medic was so concerned about her mental state that she decided not to. He kept asking her what day it was, and what her name was, and who was the Prime Minister. If she had asked him if he had seen a white rabbit called Harvey, he would have definitely got the wrong idea.

But it was Harvey.

Then she had fallen asleep.

It had all seemed so long ago. Sometimes when you sleep and wake up, it feels like only seconds have passed. But other times, when you don't sleep so well, or when your dreams are very vivid, you are much more aware that time has passed. Jayne felt like that. And her dreams had been many and very vivid. Everything was now such a long time ago. Harvey, her parents, her childhood, her time at University, the road, the ambulance, MedTec, the Corporation, everything.

What Corporation?

That Corporation you stupid piece of mutton.

Oh, of course. She had forgotten. Unless that was all a dream, too. But it couldn't be. Dreams were fleeting and passing, and no matter how vivid, soon they faded and were gone. But memories don't fade. They make you think they do, because they seem to go away, and disappear. But really, they are only biding their time, waiting for just the right moment before they can return just as vividly as before. Maybe it's because of an expected meeting, or because of some unusual event. Like Harvey. She had forgotten about Harvey. But there he was. Sitting there on the road, waiting for her. Maybe he had been waiting there all that time.

Things began to move closer. There were louder voices, and she was aware of people nearby. Her vision was still blurry, and the light was far too bright. It made her head hurt.

This wasn't right. Why did her head hurt so much. It wasn't supposed to hurt. Tyler had promised that it wouldn't hurt. He had lied. She would get even with him for that. And no one had told her that it would be this disgusting, either. Lying day after day in bed, sometimes in her own excrement. This wasn't what she had agreed to. Why did Benjamin always give her the worst jobs?

And no one had said that her parents would die while she was asleep. She remembered how upset they had been when they had switched her off at Preston Royal. How sad they had looked. And how stupid. Why hadn't they just got on with it and got out of the way? Why did they take so long? And why did she think that about her parents anyway? And why had they switched her off in the first place if she wasn't dead?

Everything was so confusing. Her memories were all upside down. The harder she tried to remember anything, the more confusing it all got. And it wasn't just her memories that were conflicting with one another, either. Even her feelings were all messed up. How could she think her parents were stupid?

Jayne was getting more and more confused. Confused and upset. The only thing she knew for sure was that her parents were both dead and she hadn't had a chance to talk to them, to tell them what she was doing. But why hadn't she said something to them when she saw them at the hospital? And why did she think they were stupid? And how could she have seen them at the hospital? If she was there, who were they switching off?

It was as if she was another person. Or the same person, but in two places. How could she be in two places? How could she have been talking to her parents if she was dead? And how could she clean herself up when she was asleep?

Disgusting cow. She was glad she was dead. Serves her right.

Serves who right? Why did she keep thinking about herself as if she was someone else? As if she was someone she detested? It was as if she was two people at once, two people who didn't like each other very much. But how could that be?

Jayne became aware that a man was talking to her. She could hear his voice. He was calling out her name, repeating it over and over again, trying to get her attention. Now, at last, her vision was clearer and she could see his face. Strangely enough, she recognised it. It was Matthew Hall.

Arrogant little git, isn't he?

"Non e gi'usto," Jayne murmured in a raspy and dry voice. "Io non prendutto la oppotunita a dire ciao a loro....Anche quando io visto loro....Ma io non sapere prima....Io non sapere quelle vanno a morire."

As she spoke, Jayne became more and more emotional, and her voice grew louder. She became restless and fidgety, and she tried to get out of bed. Matthew held on to her, and as she stared up at him with tear filled eyes, she spoke much more firmly.

"Non e gi'usto, Matthew! Non e gi'usto! Io vado a pagare lui dietro per questo! Io vado a pagare Tyler dietro!"

Matthew looked round and stared at Sandra. "What's she saying?" he asked her. "I can't understand a word of it, but I'm sure she keeps saying my name. How could she know my name?"

"Maybe she heard us talking," Sandra replied. She was rooted to the spot in the doorway, still in shock.

When Matthew had thrown open the door and shouted at her to come inside, Sandra had gone in without the slightest expectation. Now she stood with her eyes wide, staring down at Jayne.

Jayne Middleton was awake and moving. Her eyes were open and she looked scared and upset. She seemed to be struggling with Matthew who was holding on to her wrists, and Sandra could see her legs kicking about under the sheets. And for some reason she was talking in Italian.

"Esso Harvey colpa io incidente la macchina," Jayne was saying as she continued struggling with Matthew. "Non e mio colpa! Ma io non sapere mio madre e padre vanno a morire! Non e gi'usto! Io vado a pagare Tyler dietro per questo! Non e gi'usto, Matthew!"

"Do something, Sandra!" Matthew pleaded. "Help me to calm her down!"

Sandra finally woke up. She ran into the room and took one of Jayne's hands, prizing Matthew's fingers from her wrist.

"Don't be so rough with her," she told Matthew. "You'll scare her. Go and do something useful. Get her a drink of water. Go on!" Matthew hesitated before letting go of Jayne and hurrying out the door. Sandra then turned to Jayne and spoke to her clearly and calmly. "Listen to me, Jayne. You're speaking in Italian and we can't understand you. Do you hear me? Speak in English. And calm down, we're trying to help you."

Jayne stopped struggling and looked up at her. Her eyes blinked, and in a low voice she said, "Io sapere tu, tu nome e Sandra, si?"

"In English," Sandra said. "In English, Jayne."

"In English?" Jayne said, looking very puzzled. She blinked a lot and began to look very carefully around the room.

Sandra could see from her expression that Jayne was beginning to realise where she was at last, and that she was slowly regaining all her senses. This must all be very strange for her, Sandra thought as she watched Jayne. It was certainly very strange for Sandra.

All the time that she had been tending to Jayne, Sandra had always believed that she would never regain consciousness, that Jayne was, in fact, dead. Oh yes, she knew what Matthew was trying to do, and she knew how confident he seemed to be. But, to her shame, no matter what the advances were that Matthew had told her he had made with Jayne, Sandra had never really believed that he would succeed. She had never really believed that Jayne would actually reawaken. And now here she was, very much alive, and very much awake.

Matthew came back in with a glass of water, and as soon as Jayne saw him she was overcome with thirst. "Aqua!" she said, reaching out for the glass. "Si, io sono sete."

Sandra helped her sit up, and Matthew held on to the glass as Jayne drank. She took big gulps and nearly choked. She coughed and spat a lot, then drank some more. Slowly, she finished the lot.

"More?" Matthew asked.

"Si, grazie," Jayne said. But when he didn't move, she looked up at both their faces, and nodding her head she said, "Yes, thank you."

Matthew smiled at her. "Okay," he said, and he went to refill the glass.

Jayne looked at Sandra who was also smiling at her. She smiled back. It was a weak smile.

"Do you feel better now?" Sandra asked her.

Jayne nodded, but didn't reply. She didn't know why, but she found it such a strain to speak in English. It was as if she couldn't tell the difference. And then she realised that was exactly what the problem was. She couldn't tell the difference, because she was even thinking in Italian, and so every time she spoke, it came out in Italian unless she consciously made the effort to say it in English.

When Matthew returned with another full glass of water, and Jayne had taken another big drink, she finally began to relax.

"I'm sorry, but I feel very.....confused," she managed to say, speaking very slowly and deliberately.

Sandra stroked her hair. "That's alright, love," she said. "Just you take it easy. You've been through a lot, so if you want to talk in Italian, or shout and scream, you just go right ahead."

Jayne's response was to suddenly burst into tears. "Mum and dad are dead!" she wailed as she remembered again. "It's not fair!"

Sandra looked questioningly at Matthew. He held up the local newspaper. "I was reading it out like usual," he said. "There was a fire at her parents house. It was what finally woke her up."

"Oh, no!" Sandra exclaimed, sadly. She stared down at Jayne, who was now sitting in bed, crying her eyes out. "Oh you poor thing!" she said, putting her arms around her and hugging her close. "After all you've been through aswell. And now they'll never know you woke up."

In a second, Sandra was crying along with Jayne, and all Matthew could do was sit there on the side of the bed and watch them both. He felt like crying, too. But he also felt like cheering.

He'd done it! He'd actually done it! Jayne Middleton was alive and awake. She'd spoken to him. She even knew his name. And now she was sitting there in Sandra's arms, the pair of them sobbing and wailing together in a big wet mess.

Matthew wanted to join in, he wanted to hug Jayne along with Sandra. But he couldn't. He was too shy, too timid. All the time he had sat with her and watched her, he had dreamt about the day when she would wake up. He had gone over it many times in his head, how she would respond, what she would say, what she would think of him. It had always ended the same way. He wanted her to like him, he hoped that she would like him. He always dreamed that something would happen between them. He knew it was only a silly fantasy, but he couldn't help it. He was in love. In love with a woman who had done nothing but sleep all the time he had known her. And now that Jayne was awake and cognisant at last, all Matthew could do was reach out hesitantly and stroke her hair.

Then another thought occurred to him. "Wait until Ben sees this," he muttered.

Ben Watkins had returned from the board meeting that morning. He had slept all the way back on the plane, but he was still tired. He had been up most of the night before, reworking the timescales for the project as Grant had requested. He had delivered it to Grant's office before he left. Rosanna Casarotto had been there. She had taken it from him with her usual demure smile.

"Your little problem has been solved," she told him. She made it sound like he had an unsavoury medical condition.

Ben had thought about that on the way to the airport. Problem solved, just like that.

Three weeks ago at the hospital, Julia Connors had tried to convince Jayne Middleton's parents of the benefits that would be gained if they gave their daughter's body over to science. It was a well rehearsed approach. But they were both adamant that they wanted her back. In the end, Julia had settled for a temporary arrangement. It had all been in the report. So how could Jayne's parents have been persuaded to give up her body so easily now? It was ludicrous. And then Ben realised that it was his own thoughts that were ludicrous. Rosanna Casarotto wasn't employed by the Corporation for her diplomacy.

Ben sighed. He should have known. But nothing about his trip to the Corporation's headquarters had gone as expected. Tyler's coup had been as surprising as it was complete. Ben was now head of the project in name only. Tyler would take all the credit for it's success. But Tyler's manoeuvre had been so subtle, that if the project failed, Ben would still get the blame. Ben had to admire him for that, even if he did wish that he could boil him in a vat of oil.

The phone on his desk rang. Ben picked up the receiver and said, "Watkins. Yes?"

It was Rawlston's voice that answered. "She's awake, sir. I think you better get down here."

"What language was she speaking when she first woke up?" Ben asked, ignoring Rawlston's advice.

"Italian."

"I'll come down when Matthew calls me." He put the phone down and sat back in his chair. Thoughtfully, he waited for Matthew's call.

Download something that will give an immediate result, Ben had told Tyler, something that we can see has worked. After the board meeting, when Tyler had told him what he had done, Ben had been furious.

Tyler had far outreached himself. He had already attempted both the first stages of the project without the go ahead from Ben. If she awoke, and it worked, Jayne Middleton would accept her predicament as if she had volunteered for it. But to be sure that it had worked, and to satisfy Ben's request, Tyler had also swopped her language memories around. According to Tyler, it had all been very simple. Just alter the length of the memory of each language so that to Jayne, Italian would now stretch back to her childhood, while English would be just a few years old.

Ben had been very dubious. He was sure that Tyler was meddling in things he didn't really know enough about. He remembered what Matthew had told him, about how our memories were all inter- linked. He was sure that nothing about what Tyler had done was simple, and, to be honest, he was beginning to trust Matthew's expertise in this matter far more than Tyler's.

But now Jayne was awake. And, apparently, it was just as Tyler had promised. Like always. Tyler was far too confident, and now that he had Grant's backing, it could only get worse.