American Elsewhere (47 page)

INVESTIGATION OF EQUIPMENT MALFUNCTION

DR. RICHARD COBURN

AUGUST 13
^TH
, 1975

It is important to note when considering this case that the equipment involved (the Suspended Bruising Lens, or simply “lens”) has so far functioned without issue, or noticeable issue, for the better part of half a decade. I have personally never witnessed any error with the equipment, and though our reports show what they show, I have some reason to doubt them, for reasons that will be made clear. But for the moment I would ask all of you to remember that thus far the lens has given no hint of genuine anomaly in its performance, or at least not one on this scale. In short, I believe my testimony below will lead you to believe, just as I do, that the issue is likely one of personnel, rather than an error in equipment, equipment maintenance, or data input.

Some background:

Steven Helm is our chief lab assistant, and while previously his record was without blemish I must report that he has voiced some (unfounded, in my opinion) concerns regarding the lens with increasing frequency. These were never voiced to me directly, nor have they ever been reported on record with Michael Dern (COS), but his issues have filtered through to me mostly from Eric Bintly and Laura Alvarez, who are, as you no doubt know, our primary researchers on staff. I did note some curiosities in Mr. Helm’s behavior, but I chalked it up to simple laziness or restlessness, which is, I feel, quite a reasonable assumption considering our location, our seclusion, and the high-pressure nature of this work.

The greatest symptom of Mr. Helm’s suspicions was his reluctance to enter the testing chamber, which was of course quite an obstacle. Whenever
someone needed him to enter the chamber, Mr. Helm was either not to be found or he would formulate some elaborate task that had fully engaged his time and efforts. Thus we, the project manager and primary researchers, would have to do his duties for him, which often consisted of adjustments, measurements, and other tasks that required little to no education. This went on for about a month before the incident. I suppose it is my fault that I allowed this behavior to continue; we have been working on this project together for so long, and have become so familiar with each other, that our strictures may have become a bit lax.

The second symptom is one I did not witness myself, for I was never present. (I assume the relevant testimonies are being presented to you independently—at least, I hope they are.) But on the rare occasions when Mr. Helm could be coerced to enter the chamber to do his work, he avoided the lens plates. Specifically, he avoided looking into their reflective surfaces. It was Dr. Bintly who first noticed this behavior, and he treated it with great levity (so I understand), making the usual comments one can expect about vanity, fixing one’s hair, checking for food in one’s teeth, etc., but Mr. Helm was not at all receptive to such humor, and I am told his reaction was quite rude, shocking both Dr. Bintly and Dr. Alvarez. Dr. Alvarez later confronted Mr. Helm about his comments, and Mr. Helm admitted he did not feel “all right, at all” around the lens. His reasons for this were vague and unclear, but if I may be honest I believe he thought that when he looked into the lens plates he imagined seeing something. I even believe he thinks he saw someone in the mirror who was not himself, i.e., a reflection of someone who was not there.

Naturally, this is quite ridiculous. I have requested to have Mr. Helm removed from my staff, as any responsible project leader would. But, since the mishap with the lens occurred before Mr. Helm’s impending departure, you must understand that I have reasons to suspect him in what happened. I do not find it at all surprising that some minds cannot bear the burden of the tasks that have been laid upon our shoulders, especially considering the manner in which they were laid upon our shoulders. Though I am sure you know this, our lives are solitary and highly disciplined, receiving little return or reward day after day, and though we and the rest of the staff enjoy our time in the constructed village, it often feels as if civilization is worlds away. Which, I suppose, it is.

The next issue, and the one I feel is most unfortunate, concerns Dr. Bintly, whom I have always considered a very reliable and respectable scientist (I would not have him on my staff otherwise, but even by my standards he is most excellent), and thus I find his actions a cause for deep regret. While he has never voiced any concerns about the lens, or the nature of our work, despite its frustrating and often elusive nature, there were two events that I feel almost suggest a break with reality. I am very sympathetic to Dr. Bintly, and I understand that, again, our isolation and seclusion here, along with the nature of our work, will naturally have some pretty dire repercussions on the state of one’s mental health (I myself am not above such maladies, and have even taken up meditation to remedy it, which I cannot recommend highly enough), but even so I cannot allow him to pass from suspicion.

The first event occurred over half a year ago (I cannot recall the date) on a very late evening spent in the chamber, going over some statistical models that were not behaving as we had forecasted. Mr. Helm was not present—it was only Dr. Bintly, Dr. Alvarez, and myself. Dr. Alvarez and I left Dr. Bintly alone for a brief period to perambulate about the offices while we reconsidered the nature of our problem, and we later returned with some possibly fertile ground (which proved quite fertile indeed, I am happy to say). But we heard Dr. Bintly talking quite agitatedly within the chamber. We looked in and found him flipping through the statistical models, angrily discussing their contents aloud, even castigating his imaginary audience for not knowing what he was talking about, when they (I do recall that he later referred to them as “they”) knew quite well what he meant as they’d all been talking about it for the past four hours. Dr. Alvarez interjected from the door, and Dr. Bintly looked up, surprised, and asked how we’d gotten “over there” so quickly, and why we had changed clothes. Dr. Alvarez and I were quite confused by his comments, and reminded him that we’d only gone on a quick walk, and had not changed clothes at all, which caused Dr. Bintly to stare into the far side of the room with a puzzled look on his face as if expecting to see someone there. When no one appeared, he seemed quite disturbed, and he chose to retire for the evening, which we all agreed was the smart thing to do.

This situation was much more distressing. I had been meditating on the mesa top, as is part of my morning ritual, and I descended to find Dr. Bintly shouting at Dr. Alvarez with considerable alarm and volume. This attracted the attention of the other workers, who began to mutter and mill about as I suppose such people do. Yet when he saw me, coming down the stairs in my robe, he stared and almost fainted. We took him to the medical room straightaway.

Dr. Bintly was most reluctant to discuss the matter. Dr. Alvarez privately informed me that he had come running out of the chamber shouting that I, personally, was in trouble. So agitated was Dr. Bintly that he was unable to articulate the precise nature of my trouble, but I assure you I was not in any trouble, having been sitting atop the mesa doing breathing exercises at the time.

Eventually we were able to extract the truth from him, or the truth he was willing to give us. He claimed he’d been working on the lens data feeds when suddenly the chamber filled up with a great shouting. He was so astonished he leaped up and saw—and here I do pity him—me, Richard Coburn, standing in the chamber in ragged clothes, sporting a full beard, shouting the word
plank
over and over again. Then he claims I abruptly vanished.

But this does not compare to his later actions, which, if I took them at all seriously, would be quite upsetting for me. For it seems he had been hiding

It is quite sad to see that Dr. Bintly’s mind has been so affected by our work. I have put through a request for transfer for him, and though I am dispirited by these developments I do not regret my actions. Moving him away from the facility—perhaps only for a time, as his contributions are so valuable—will aid his mental health enormously.

Dr. Alvarez, however, remains my most trusted and valuable colleague. I am aware she had issues with our work in the past (she is a little too devoted to details, I feel, and often misses the forest for the leaves) but these have been resolved and in recent months she has been more dedicated to our researches than ever. I say this because I am very aware that, since Dr. Alvarez is the one who was directly involved with the incident, the most suspicion will inevitably fall on her. But as she has no history of erratic behavior, unlike
her other two colleagues, and since the nature of her involvement was so incidental (I presume you have seen the film), I cannot imagine that she had any intentional hand in what happened.