Plot Line and Sample Translation of: "Thalamus" by bestselling Ursula Poznanski

Thalamus a Medical Thriller by Ursula Poznanski Sample Translation He can do things he shouldn’t be able to.

He knows things, he shouldn’t be aware of.

Someone else’s will in your own head…

Chapter 1 Five kilometers to go to Hannah’s house and the rain didn’t stop. With a quick move, Timo wipes away the rain drops from the helmet visor and drives his scooter around the next corner. Very soon he’ll be on the A-road and experience has shown that it is much easier to drive there.

Anyway, he was already late and Hannah won’t like that. She is really uncomplicated with most things but she hates lateness. Andi if she‘s angry, she might not be happy about the content of the box. Anyway, he is quite sure that the box and the gift wrapping paper on the bike’s luggage carrier are completely soaked by this time.

It’s a great gift, he thinks, for the even better last six months since they are together. He was already so excited to see her reaction. Her expression. Her smile. He really did his best.

The rain got even worse, it drums on the street, the air turbulence hit his face, his coat was heavy by the wetness. To take the bus would lastly have been the better choice. But the bus only stops once in a blue moon and the scooter is so much more fun.

However, it’s not far anymore.

Timo hears a car approaching behind him, speeding up and running past him. Water splashes in a huge fountain under the wheels. Timo will need a shower and dry clothes, that was unavoidable now. It’s not quite going as he had imagined. And now even that. A tractor with a trailer, running at a snail’s pace in front of him. Again Timo wipes away the rain drops from the helmet visor. Carefully swinging to the left to see whether the road was free.

Yes. It was. No approaching lights and the next bend was far away.

He took a deep breath, put his hand down, changed lanes, and brings out the best of his scooter. Ok, so this works. In a second he would have passed the tractor and the empty road would be open to him.

Right in this moment when Timo wanted to get back to his lane, the back wheel of the scooter sideslipped. Timo felt himself falling towards the tractor, by a reflex he shifted his weight fighting against the downfall and finally turnst the scooter up. Man! That was close!

Luckily, the backpack didn’t fall down from the luggage carrier, as Timo checked with a quick grip to the back. Carefully, he finally passed the tractor, still with an ultra quick pulse – and then he suddenly sees an obstacle coming up. A car grey as the rain, terrifyingly close.

The car drove into the crossover although it would have had to give way. Then it hit the breakes. Tim did too. Slithering, seeing the headlights that were reflected on the soaked road. He realized there was no way to avoid the crash. The accident. He returns to the upright position on the motorcycle seat, maybe he could throw himself over the engine hood of the car. Maybe…

Split seconds before the crash time slowed down. The bang felt like it came from very far away. The tremendous flip that lifted Timo out of the seat and catapulted him over that car didn’t hurt.

He flew high, hovered. Sadly thought about the box in his backpack. The present for Hannah. It surely got broke.

Then he was hit, the blackness appeared, the nothingness.

The nothingness remained, occasional flashes broke the darkness, falling into oblivion right behind.

No pain, no feelings, no passage of time. But eventually a noise appeared. High, consistent beeping.

It appeared, then disappeared. Another appearance in the nothingness: voices. A touch. Then a peaceful relapse into the nothingness.

The next time when Timo got in touch with the world it was because of the voice again. It sounded familiar but although he tried to, he couldn’t understand what was said. The words were only noises, without a meaning. At least pleasant noises, which made him drift away.

Finally a touch that actually reached him. A strongful grasp at his… arm?

His consciousness was levitating inconsistently between waking and forgetting until he hitched on something. A voice he didn’t want to loose, that needed to stay. He tried to open his eyes. All for nothing. He tried to move, at least a little bit, also completely in vain.

He fought the nothingness that threatened to enwrap him again. But he was too weak.

It was clearer the next time he reached something close to consciousness. He felt a stable mattress under his back and heard the beeping again. Additionally steps and voices. He still didn’t understand what they said.

And – that was new and anything but beautiful – he felt the pain. In his legs, on his hips, in his head.

Especially in the head. This pain seemed to be wrapped up in cotton wool. Luckily. Any other way it would have been unbearable.

For the first time he tried to orient himself. Where was he? Who was he? What was happening here?

He still didn’t succeed in opening his eyes but he saw light reaching through his lids. Moreover, he managed to move his right hand. He thought he did, but wasn’t sure.

Any of these attempts were incredibly exhausting. He surrendered and fell asleep again straightaway.

The next time he woke up, it was for the first time that he felt like time had passed. As if he had slept and hasn’t just been switched off. He moved his fingers, yes, he undeniably moved them and he even opened his eyes.

A bright area above him, devices, light sources. He knew these things, he saw all of them before but he didn’t remember the words for them. He didn’t remember any words. Not even his name.

Something buzzed behind his temples.

Then someone stood next to him, shined into his eyes, raised his eyebrows, said something. Again words without any meaning.

The light hurt his head. He closed his eyes.

Timo.

The sound repeated. It sounded as if spoken by different voices. It was familiar, often heard. Soon it became obvious what was said, what was meant or particularly who was meant.

Timo, that’s himself. What was embedded into this body that couldn’t be moved. Or could it?

Finally he opened his lids, the light burned in his eyes. And there was something. Someone.

As if remembering his name flipped the switch. Suddenly words for all he saw were formed.

Man. Glasses. Coat. Green.

Doctor.

“Timo” said that man and a few other things.

Too much, too quickly.

The man left and a… woman appeared. She smiled and took Timo’s hand. She squeezed his hand, he pressed back. He thought he did.

Then a tore in his cognition, a tore in time.

When he opened his eyes again, his Mom held his hand. She bend down, kissed him, something wet dropped on his face.

Then Dad. He said something but the words vanished from Timo’s world. He felt his consciousness drifting away.

Diving under. Coming up again. Someone moved his legs. First the right one then the left one.

Something stings in his the back of his hand.

Again Mom. “So happy” she said. He squeezed her hand, then he was sure to really do it.

Time still passed strangely. It didn’t flow but jumped, let him drop into phases of darkness and he wasn’t able to rate whether that would be for seconds or days. Gave him back to the light where he tried to hitch his consciousness to anything there. The tubes plunged inside his body. The squeaks of the machines. Even the dull pain in his head.

But he couldn’t manage to do this permanently. After a while it felt as if he was pulled back into the black hole where nothing exists. Not even he himself.

Chapter 2 The first moment when he was awake that Timo later remembers was the evening when he had pumpkin puree and potatoes. The bedhead was raised up. A young male nurse sat next to him with a full plate and tried to feed him.

It worked. Timo chewed, swallowed and heard the nurse praising him for every bite. “Good boy.

You’re doing great. Very good!”

As if he was talking to a dog but that didn’t disturb Timo. Because he understood every word. His eyes were nearly stuck to the nurse and he was so desirous that the unconsciousness would not pick up again.

“Another scoop. Very good. And one more.”

Timo ate and listened. With every word the world gained a part of its meaning back.

A few days later he could already follow conversations next to his bed. His parents were there and one of the doctors, a certain Doctor Schmiedeberg explained to him that Timo will be transferred to the general ward. “His progress is incredibly quick. If you think about our uncertainty about him waking up again at all three weeks ago… it seemed to be impossible. You do remember that.”

Three weeks ago. He has been lying here for that long. „Where do we go from here?“ he heard his mom asking. „Will he… well, get better again? Completely recover? „I don’t want to promise anything.“ Time shortly hung on the word promises. What is that? Ok, well. „But if your son continues to recover like that his chances to regain a normal life are real.“ What does that mean now? Of course he would have a normal life again, what else? Timo opens his mouth, wanted to explain to the doctor how he thought but all words skipped out on him. Sort of. He understood them but couldn’t remember how to produce them.

The talk has continued anyway. „…transferring him for rehabilitation to a special medical facility.“ The doctor just said. „They are by all means specialized in cases like Timo’s, the colleagues are highly succesful – especially with Young Adults.“ „Yes, Professor Kleist has already told us about that“ his Dad hesitates. „But it’s quite far away…“ Mom’s pale face appeared above Timo, she bent down, carefully kissed him very gently on the forehead. „See you tomorrow, darling.“ He blinked at her, she smiled, kissed him again, stroke his arm. „Things will fall into place“ she said. „Everything.“ Then they went outside. „I’ll give you some booklets with all information.“ Timo heard Doctor Schmiedeberg saying that. „Markwald Yard has a great reputation and I’m sure Timo will be very comfortable there.“ As if. He didn’t want to go to any rehabilitation centre, he wanted to go home, he’ll do well there too. The doctor said how well he recovered. Even if he was terribly tired now and couldn’t hold on to any thought any longer.

A picture appeared and disappeared quickly. Eyes. Green Eyes. Bordered by long, high-arched lashes.

Then Darkness.

When he woke up again, the environment was different. No beeping, no hurried steps, even the omnipresent rythmic hissing, a sound like the heavy breathing of a giant - gone.

Calmness instead of that. Cream-coloured walls, pictures of green hills and yellow flowers. Very carefully Timo turned his head to the side which has cost him quite a lot of pain every time he tried to do that.

This time the pain was bearable. Still he became dizzy. Very dizzy. Although he was lying in his bed.

He breathed against the uproaring feeling of sickness.

Beside his own bed there was only one other. The patient lying there was approximataley at his father’s age. His eyes were closed and he didn’t move. Tubes went into the ventricular inflow tract. A half full bag filled with a crystal clear fluid hung on an infusion stand.

The term General ward was formed in his head. Someone said it but he couldn’t remember who did it. Was this the General ward?

The door opened, a nurse came in. She smiled at him. „Well, you’re awake. That’s nice. Let’s see what your infusion does and then we’ll take your temparature.“ She throbbed gently against the bag which hung above Timo’s bed too, re-shot the regulator and then put the thermometer into his armpit. „I’ll be back in 5 minutes“ she signalized and turned towards the door.

Timo wanted to say ‚okay‘ but no word left his mouth and when the nurse was already outside simply a long-drawn-out that simply sounded horrible. Like the sound of an animal.

The guy in the other bed didn’t even move so Timo tried again. More quiet. He thought about the word okay, focused on it. Then he said it or at least thought he did but again it was only a noise as if he was in pain.

The realisation slowly seeped into Timo’s consciousness. And he turned cold inside. Something was broken, the connection between his thoughts and the ability to express them didn’t exist anymore.

But he was able to learn that again, wasn’t he? If he trained – as if speaking was a sport. Then it would work again one day.

He tried again. With something very simple. His name in particular. Timo. Ti-mo. „Daaaaaauuuu -“ Shocked he stopped. He sounded like the boy who lived a few blocks away from him and was often strolled through the park by his parents in the wheelchair. His thin arms were always bent, his head layed on his left shoulder as if it was too heavy for the neck. And when he tried to talk he sounded like Timo right now.

That can’t be true. Cannot. Someone must help him as quickly as possible.

This night Timo dreamed of the dark green eyes and this time they were framed by a face which he knew well. It woke a feeling of pure happiness inside him. Everything was fine. She was there, they were together. He clasped her in his arms, pulled her close to him. How did he miss her.

Then she took him along with her, down a hill with blooming yellow flowers. He tripped a little bit over something and something hit his arm. A tree branch or anything similar. But that didn’t matter.

They found a spot at a stream where they laid down and watched the sky. „Oh my, how did that happen? How is that even possible? Regine? Walter? Would you come quickly please?“ Someone grapped his shoulder and Timo opened his eyes. One of the nurses was on her knees next to him. And he wasn’t in bed, but…. on the ground. In the corner, close to the door. „He pulled out the ventricular access and he must have gotten all the way here from his bed. A mystery to me. He’s hardly strong enough to raise an arm.“ Two other figures appeared, a female one and the other was male. They both grabbed him. „Can you get up?“ He couldn’t. He also wasn’t able to answer. With difficulty he managed to bend one of his legs, but working in his own was unimaginable. Trying hard, he finally bent his leg but there was no way to walk on his own. „There we go, let’s bring him back to bed. Regine, would you please get Schmiedeberg or Kleist here?“ They pulled him up, someone balanced his head which now started to hurt. A strong beat, from his neck to the temples. „Well, all the things you do…“ The male nurse with the lightbrown ponytail outstretched Timo’s right arm, looked for a vein and put a new access into it for another infusion. „You’re more resistant than we thought you were.“ He grinned. „But quite a good signal. But please don’t do that right again, okay?“ Even if Timo would have wanted to that, he wouldn’t have been able to. It was an absolute marvel for him how he managed the long way to reach the door. Maybe he didn’t do it himself but someone carried him?

No. Absolute nonsense. No staff member or any patient would have been able to do it.

Suddenly the dark green eyes were right back in front of him. The eyes of the girls whose name he couldn’t remember. Probably she wasn’t real, he imagined her. But his feeling was definitely true.

It still was. There was so much longing for her inside his broken body. That was only able if she was real and they knew each other. Maybe even quite well.

But he simply couldn’t ask anyone about her or all the other stuff he couldn’t remember. For instance why he was here at all. What happened. It couldn’t have been a little thing looking at his condition.

But nobody seemed to think about telling him the simple truth. They treated him as if he wasn’t there at all. Talked about him when they were standing at his bed, speaking with him only when they said ‚hi‘ or ‚bye‘.

If it would remain like this, then….

The door was opened. Steps were getting closer. „Hello Timo.“ A tall-grown man pulled up one of the visitor chairs and sat down. The face was vaguely familiar to Timo. Lean, with glasses above the slim nose. Dark hair with grey embedded particles. And the white coat plus stethoscope – surely a doctor.

My my, some of his ideas were still reliable for Timo obviously. „I heard you were on a walk last night.“ The doctor leaned over Timo, paying close attention to him.

“That was quite a surprise for us, no one thought this would be possible.” He was waiting as if Timo could have replied to that. But he had his latest Neanderthal noises so well in mind that he wouldn’t try speaking again.

“I’d really like a lot to know how you did that.” A small marker was at the coat pocket, probably a name tag. Timo tried to decipher but the letters were as unreadable for him as Chinese signs.

So he coulnd’t read anymore as well.

“You can’t tell me about it, I know” the doctor continued. “But are you able to remember at least?”

Slowly Timo moved his head to the right a little bit, then to the left. It was only centimetres but his message was understood.

“You don’t. Ok. Do you remember me?”

A little. The doctor’s face was one of many that often appeared and disappeared that melded in the run of the timeless phases.

He repeated his reduced version of head-shaking.

“Don’t worry” said the doctor cheerfully. “I am Professor Kleist, Andreas Kleist. I am one of the surgeon’s who operated on you.”

Surgery. That was a new information.

“We needed to open your brain-pan because after your accident your brain was heavily swollen. And the pressure could have caused even worse harm. Afterwards we put you in an artificial coma so your body could focus completely on the healing. And a weeked ago we slowly started to get you out of the coma.”

A second ago, Timo desired to have more information, now he felt nearly slayed of it. They opened his brain-pan. Oh my. Was it closed by now?

“You gained back your consciousness. That’s what’s most important.” Kleist looked at Timo emphatically. “We weren’t sure if that was possible. I had patients already, which ended in a vigil coma after these small injuries. But you… you will recover and that makes all of us very happy.” He shortly squeezed Timo’s arm, got up and left.

Timo slowly dozed off but at least he noticed that. It was good; it was helpful for the recovery. The next time he will wake up, he felt probably even better.

At the point of falling asleep while being awake the green-eyed girl was again waiting for him, stroke his face and laughed. Suddenly her name was there: Hannah. He remembered Hannah, she was his girlfriend and she would visit him in the hospital, no question about that. She will.

Timo lightened up mentally and the feeling stayed with him, even when he woke up again.

He knew that he didn’t actually see her, but that didn’t matter. He remembered her. She was real, even if her visit in the hospital wasn’t. That was ok; she shouldn’t see him like that.

Only when he was being himself again.

When his parents entered the room together with Professor Kleist the next day, they carefully started to talk about the Markwald Yard. Then Timo blinked his eyes long enough that they noticed and stopped being irritated. Then he bent his head and raised it again, hoping that they would understand.

He wanted to be back on his feet quickly. If a stay at a rehabilitation centre was necessary for that then he was ready for it.

But it took about two weeks of time until the hospital allowed his transfer. The way was so long and physically demanding that his general state of health needed to be stable enough to be able to handle it.

He would have loved to contradict but he still wasn’t able to talk. That also made it impossible to ask about Hannah. He could have endeavoured to type her name into a notebook or a tablet if they would have given him one. But nobody thought about that at all. Probably that would have been damaging to his injured brain. And even to ask for it… that’s it. That’s what the damn situation was like.

At least he has therapies every day to move his arms and legs, motivating him to try to eat on his own. And a few minutes each day he was allowed to sit instead of lying in the bed. That still made him feel dizzy but he was bound and determined to bear it a little longer each day.

With every passing day Timo got more and more dissatisfied. He was able to think, to understand what happened around him – well, his memory did not work reliably but that would change.

However, he didn’t see any progress in his body. As much as he attempted to win back control over his arms, legs, hands and most importantly his voice, nothing worked as it did before, they did not obey.

The worst part was the thing with the speaking. He couldn’t get Hannah out of his head but his parents didn’t talk about her and she didn’t appear. Sometimes he doubted her existence and that were painful moments. It was possible that he only dreamed of her and his broken brain led him to believe that she was real.

No chance to proof the opposite.

Not even damning was possible. However, Timo did that extensively in his thoughts. For example when the feeding cup slipped out of his hands before he could bring it to his mouth. A plastic cup that only toddlers had. But they were much more skilful with that cup. Timo tried it with great swing at the sixth time and only hit his chin, then the cup fell on the ground again.

The occupational therapist, a kind lady with a grey-blond pageboy hairstyle picked it up patiently.

“You’re doing very well” she said smiling while Timo would have preferred to throw the cup against the wall. Not as if he would have been able to do it but simple the imagination of that helped.

After 15 minutes of trying he was finally able to bring the cup to his mouth and drink some sips of the tea which was cold by then. Afterwards he was exhausted. The therapist helped him to outstretch in the bed again, praised his endeavour and left.

Timo laid there gazing at the picture on the opposite wall. Green hills with yellow flowers that he knew from his dreams. Maybe it was just a picture of a randomn girl, which he caught, and it just rested in his head and developed a life on its own.

Although he knew he would regret that, he tried to say her name. Hannah. He simply wasn’t able to say more than a long-drawn-out, turgid Aaaaa. He bowed his head in shame, closed his mouth and tried hard to fight the up-coming tears. Maybe it would be the best if Hannah didn’t exist in real life.

Two days later Timo was transferred to the Markwald Yard.

Chapter 3 (Abstract, p.26-27) “Hey!” said a deeper and a little raucous voice. “Here actually really is someone new.” In his newly usual slow-motion pace Timo turned his head. A similar-aged boy stood in the door, but in a much better condition. (…) “Wow, your back head looks like freshly plowed,” he analysed. “Let me guess: a concussion including a cerebral edema? And they opened up your brainpan? (…) If I’m right about that we have something in common.” He turned around. One part of his backhead was covered with much shorter hair. Timo saw a red scar shimmering through. “I’m Carl.

Carl spelled with C.” The boy bended down and looked into his face observingly. “You do understand me, right? At least you don’t look as dull and dead as other guys here.” He pointed at the bed next to Timo. “Like Magnus for example. Magnus is greenstuff. But at least greenstuff with hope, that’s what they say. There are other people here whose brain isn’t more than mud anymore.”

Chapter 4 (Abstract, p.33-37) At 9 pm the light was turned off when Timo was already dozing. Vaguely he noticed the nurse taking his blood pressure and and temperature. And a doctor which he somehow didn’t recognize said a few things Timo already forgot a few seconds later. Afterwards - darkness. And then, a little later, he was pulled sharply. Timo struggled to open his eyes. Light. And… there was a person. Sitting at the edge of his bed, eyeing him suspiciously and looking stonily. (…) “Well, are you awake?” He even spoke. Magnus spoke and he did that clearly and precisely. As if!

Absolutely he is no greenstuff, Carl was wrong. Magnus was in a way better condition than he himself. “Hm.” The blond-curled boy cocked his head. “You hear me, do you? And you do understand, right?” He paused to think as if he seeming to be eavesdropping in Timo’s head. Timo groped for the panic button. This was a sensation. Magnus literally resolved spontaneously overnight. The doctors had to see that… Like a flash his neighbour from the next bed snapped the switch. He smiled. “Do me a favour and shut your traps. All clear? That’s the best option for you.”

Timo wanted to ask why. Magnus stood up, switched off the light and left the room. With the panic button. Timo had a hard time to keep his eyes open, waiting for the return of Magnus. He was only able to wait for that, maybe Magnus would come back accompanied by very happy doctors. But it was difficult to wait and keep the eyes open. When he woke up, darkness had passed. (…) Slowly he turned his head to the right. Magnus was lying there frozen in place. He didn’t stare at the ceiling but his eyes were closed. He was breathing regularly. Timo didn’t stop observing him, he had a very close look at him. Magnus didn’t move at all. (…) Brain-damaged. This term banged his head. This head that was nothing but unreliable. That meant a hallucination seemed way more probable than a sudden wonderous healing of his room mate. (…) He wasn’t even able to swallow anything on his own. That made it completely impossible to believe that Magnus truly sneeked around at night and would threaten Timo. (…) The best would

be to consider this as over, being done with it as a really realistic dream and have breakfast. (…)

Hallucination. That’s what Timo thought. So obvious.

Chapter 5 (Abstract, p.46-48) (…) Timo adjusted his breathing rhythm to the one of Magnus. He noticed how he slowly dozed off.

What woke him up was the sound of the door handle that was pushed down. Timo wasn’t wideawake immediately but quick enough to see someone closing the door behind him from outside. (…)

He was all alone in the room. Magnus’ bed was empty.

Don’t fall asleep. Don’t.

Stay awake.

Stay.

Awake.

Timo tried to do everything possible to be completely sure that Magnus actually is not frozen this time. It was out of question that he did not want to fall asleep and miss Magnus return again. (…) He fought very hard to not fall asleep and was just about to loose this battle when the door opened. Magnus slipped into the room. (…) It was absolutely quite a few breaths long. Probably he just stood there, watching Timo and asking himself whether his roommate was asleep. Then he exhaled loudly. “You know, it would be very simple to just suffocate you with my pillow, if I felt like it,” Magnus whispered.

Chapter 6 (Abstract, p.56-66) (…) The door flew open. Seconds later someone grapped the grips of Timo’s wheelchair and whirled him around. “Yeah buddy, do you remember me?” Carl with a C. “Okay, you grin, I made it to your memory,” he said and rolled Timo towards the door. “What do you think about my generous offer to go on a long tour through the yard? You’re excited, right?” Carl didn’t even wait for Timo to react and left the room with him. (…) Third floor. The doors opened. “So, now we are entering the world in between. Mainly people like Magnus, but a little older. Not dead, not alive, but allegedly not in a hopeless state.” (…) Without knocking before walking in, Carl opened the door to the first room. (…) “Don’t worry, we are not disturbing anyone, both of them have no idea about visitors here.” He pointed to the left bed with a small, grey-haired man. “In the olden days he was a scientist, even in TV every now and again.

Professor Erich Brand, do you know him? Anyhow, don’t worry. If he actually was a genius somewhere along the line, nothing of that remained.” Carl turned Timo in his wheelchair to the next bed. “And this is Freddy Stein. 38 years old. Slammed into the water by the main boom when he was sailing. He drowned. They reanimated him but he was in a coma for a long time. Then, two or three months ago he suddenly got better, pretty fast-paced. Three weeks ago he was doing so well that the two of us even played chess. He even won. But for five days ago… he joined the… greenstuff again.”

Timo heard Carl swallowing hard. Obviously Freddy’s tragic fate hurt him. “No one knows why”. (…)They left the room, Carl was rather uncommunicative, different than before. (…) “I think about Freddy a lot,” he mumbled. “The afternoon he recollapsed was when we wanted to meet for a stroll through the park. He wanted to tell me something.” Carl took a deep breath. “He didn’t show up, so I went into his room and he was lying in bed. Quite similar to how he still lies there.” Carl looks back at

the door behind them. “It took ages for him to answer any of my questions and then he only said weird things. He said for example ‘All of us are fine, everything is going as supposed’.” Short laughing out loud. “Error. Now he’s bad and I can’t stop asking myself who he meant by ‘us’”.

While Carl rolled him towards the common room, Timo soundlessly tried to form the name Magnus with his lips. But he understood that his lips couldn’t close for a M and the A would sound like an O. After Carl’s descriptions about Freddy’s behaviour Timo was so eager to share his night-time experiences with Magnus but that obviously needed to wait for a while. When they arrived the common room, Carl luckily was happy as usual again. (…)

Damn. Reluctantly, Timo uttered, and it sounded terrible again but at least ended in the reaction he hoped for. Mona first turned her head, then her vehicle towards him. “Yes, Timo? Are you annoyed by his blah blah?” He carefully shook is head, raised one of his hands and pointed to Mona’s iPad. She immediately understood. (…) Mona sighed, nodded and put the tablet on Timo’s knees. (…) After a while Timo managed to open a note and saw the virtual keyboard with depressing small keys. (…)

He would have an inward party on his own if he was able to nearly push the right keys.

The M, on the left in the buttom of the keypad. (…), my madzgus was on the display after even longer than five minutes later and Timo was exhausted. He leaned back and thus caught Carl’s attention. “You typed something!”

Carl took over the iPad and had a look at it before handing it over to Mona. “If we convince our fantasy to walk an extra mile than this could mean Magnus, right?” He looked at Timo. “Is this meant to mean Magnus?” Yes. Timo nodded. Mona rolled a little closer to Timo. “You want to let us know something about Magnus?”

That’s what he wanted to say but thinking about having to type ‘Magnus is strolling around at nighttime’ or at least some mumbo-jumbo letters close to that made him so damn tired.

“Is Magnus not doing fine?” asked Mona. “Is that what you want to tell us?” Carl brummed “That is nothing new”. Timo set his sight on the W and actually hit exactly that. Being highly focused, he managed to type the word w#ajlks. “Magnus walks?” Carl’s voice sounded pityingly. Probably expressing just as much pity for Timo as for Magnus.”That would be great but he is approximately as far away from that as a rhino is from figure skating on the ice rink.” Again Timo shook his head. He tapped at the crippled form of the word “walks” again. Mona took his hand. “Was that at night?” This time Timo nodded way too hard and immediately felt dizzy again. “Ok so you had a dream about that” Mona replied softly. “I’m sure you’re still on strong medication. In the beginning, I sometimes dreamed of weird stuff too. I dreamed of things you couldn’t even imagine. But then it became so real again that I was sure to be awake.” Timo checked his memories. (…) You can’t picture so many details in a dream. (…) They didn’t believe him. (…) Mona asked for her iPad. “Okay. Please give it back to me or is there something else you want to tell us?” Yeah. Sure there is. But nothing he could express by a few of keys hidden by mistake instead of the right letters.

Chapter 7 (Abstract, p.68-84) “Timo?” A hand was on my shoulder, than a cuff on my cheek. “For God’s sake! Timo, what do you do here? How did you get here?” He fought to come to himself and recover consciousness. (…) He found himself in the common room, sitting on the table where Carl brought him the day before.

(…) “I’ll bring you back right now, damn you’re icecold” said nurse Claudia who pulled him up. “That’s pretty much incredible” murmered the nurse. “You sleepwalked. I’m happy you didn’t get hurt.” (…)

Timo tried to understand what happened. (…) Did the same happen to Magnus? Sleepwalking at night, being in coma over day? Was this medically possible at all? (…) Carl coming over and wheeling him through the corridors again didn’t help. He obviously didn’t hear about Timo’s getaway over night, unfortunately. Timo would have appreciated to hear Carl’s analysis of this episode. A onetime big deal or was that a true progression? (…) Timo nearly went nuts trying to accept not being able to ask anyone about it. Because this sudden progress didn’t include one problem: his voice. His brain still sent the wrong signals. Every sentence was perfect in his head but it simply didn’t manage to reach his mouth. He still only babbled. (…) They were on their way to the third floor, Carl wheeled Timo to the room of Professor Brand and his chess mate Freddy when a doctor came their way. (…) She first eyed Timo suspiciously, then his companion through black-rimmed eyeglass lenses. “What are you up to here? Wrong floor, Carl, you have no business here!” “I wanted to check on Freddy”. Carl’s voice suddenly sounded unusually serious. “At some point he must get better and I thought when I…” “You’ll hear about his recovery as soon this happens” Dr. Korinek quickly replied while she focused on Timo, she somehow looked at him searchingly.(…) Taking a strong line, she channelled him towards the elevator. “Well, now you go back downstairs.” (…) “Tadaa” Carl opened his arms. “By the way, I have news! Timo joined the Club of Sleepwalkers.

Dr. Korinek told me and he confirmed. Who of you belongs to that club again?” (…) “Seriously? Six people even of those hanging out here in the common room right now?” Carl’s witty tone made way for astonishment. “Wow…. that’s quite unnormal, isn’t it? Are all of you medicated with the same drug?

Six patients, Timo wondered and was afraid. Exactly counted they are seven because Magnus obviously belonged to the club too. Wasn’t that something that was troubling the doctors? (…) Somnabulism.

All of a sudden, this word arouse in his head from nothingness. So clearly, he nearly heard it.

Somnabulism means the same sleepwalking does, he knew that. Since only half a second though. He never heard that term before. He was sure about that… quite sure. It seemed as if his brain looked that up on its own in a hidden database and brought it into the light of day. (…) Half-hidden, Carl stood close to the glass cabinet filled with cake slices in the cafeteria. He kept sight of Mona and her mother. (…) Carl didn’t even stop observing when Timo was wheeled towards him. He was fully focused on Mona. (…) He laughed. “She didn’t even ask what Mona thinks about her plans, not even once. Mona didn’t even get a chance to say anything”. Timo watched what was happening and was wondering about something else. Was Carl actually able to hear what was said at Mona’s table? It was a quite long way to the table from the cabinet, the level of noise was was really high and the mom didn’t speak that loudly. (…) Oh well, obviously Carl heard every single word that was spoken out. He even imitated the mother’s tone of voice. Timo closed his eyes and tried to understand very hard, hearing what was said by these two in this babel of voices. (…) Did Carl bug Mona? Quite hard to imgine that she would allow that. Anyhow she was loosing her thread of patience. “Simply leave me alone now!” she screamed at her mom, now even Timo heard that. (…) Carl watched her leaving, his hands formed clenched fists. “Do you know about the worst thing?” he asks Timo looking into his eyes. “It’s that her visits lead to Mona sinking into depressions for days each time. And there’s nothing that she allows to help her. If we tried to cheer her up now it would become even worse. (…) Carl stood at the door of Timo’s room doubtfully. “I’ll give it a try though.

Well, with Mona. At least it might help if she vents her anger on me. (…)

Was Mona aware of how much he liked her at all? Did Carl know about that himself?

Appearing without warning Hannah’s face was in front of Timo’s eyes all of a sudden. Every now and then he was thinking about her again. But every time he found a necessary distraction. It simply was quite hurtful to accept that he lost her. She didn’t even pay him one visit, his parents didn’t even let him know she said hi. Probably she was sad when she heard about his accident but that must have been all. She obviously didn’t want to maintain their relationship with a boy in such a bad condition.

There were so many other guys at school. Healthy, attractive and happy to take over and take care of her. Just imagining that was terrifyingly hurtful. Timo felt how his eyes watered, heavily shook his head – and the next moment he felt the physical pain replacing the psychological one. As if someone was sawing his brain-pan, at the same time he became giddy and felt dizzy. This time so terribly hard that his stomach made him sick. He fought against the urge to vomit, took deep breaths and did a twenty-count. Then it got better and the pain about Hannah became a blurry shadow in the back of his consciousness for the moment.

A little later Timo felt fit enough to get out of the wheelchair and into his bed. (…) Was it possible that walking would work better today then the last time he tried? Carefully he moved one leg in front of the other, being cautious about having something within his arm’s reach to support himself against in case of emergency, but that wasn’t necessary. He managed the five steps to Magnus’ bed. (…) For a few minutes he simply stood there and looked in the face of the other one. No muscle there moved though. If Magnus felt his presence, he didn’t signify that. Timo took his hand, touched the shoulder of his room mate. Cautiously at first, then a little stronger. Then he started shaking Magnus as if he wanted to wake him up. But Magnus didn’t react at all. Carl called him greenstuff. Still Magnus was a member of the Club of Sleepwalkers, which seemed impossible for anyone who saw him like that. But at one point he will be caught unprepared. By someone who was able to talk and informed the doctors about it afterwards.

Chapter 8 (Abstract, p.86-92) Timo blinked, tried to orient himself. He wasn’t in bed, he sat on a chair, he obviously sleepwalked again. Sonambulismo prompted the Spanish voice in his head. But he wasn’t in the common room.

Where was he cast up now? (…)He immediately noticed his eyes were fine and was relieved. He spotted every detail in the well-lit room. Even the face of the boy lying in the bed in front of him. He was about 12 years old, redhaired, freckled and the blazing light didn’t cause any reaction. Timo observed him, looking for the usual scar on his head but that seemed to be missing. Even his hair had the same length all over the head. (…) His name was Elias Schmied. Carl never mentioned anything about an Elias. (…) Without high expectations he touched Elias’ shoulder and was terrified when he actually opened his eyes, moved his mouth and his head. But it seemed like he couldn’t see Timo. His expression was empty, all movements were uncoordinated and random. It seemed like he didn’t hear or recognize anything – in spite of the touch. (….) Timo started his retreat. (…) His legs seemed to carry him nearly like before the accident. (…) Now even the corridor where he now was didn’t seem familiar. He didn’t end up in the Juvenile Wing, that was for sure. And it wasn’t the area where Freddy and Professor Braun were accommodated. (…) Stairs finally came up, although they were narrow and not well-lit as other stairs Timo already saw in Markwald Yard. (…) Timo must have been sleepwalking into the opposite building, it was a quite long way. Did he walk through the park? Or through the bridge section?

(…) He just needed to follow the way, then nothing could go wrong. (…) He was in the middle of the park when a wisp of wind transferred voices over. Timo stopped. Did he imagine that? … we can proceed without interruption …

He now fully understood that. No diggity! There were people in the park and they discussed. (…) … no problem …

Another voice that seemed familiar to Timo. … now is the right time for it …

Timo quickly thought about it. He intended to walk on, wanted to get back to bed as soon as possible. Moreover, he was cold. But he know that this curiosity would keep him awake. If he got a little closer and walked over to the right side he might be able to see what happened behind the hedge. (…) He spotted a tree which he could hide behind. He wouldn’t go further. That’s new said a familiar voice. And then, like a multiple, retarted echo, the others replied.

Better.

Better.

Better.

Timo peeked from behind the tree. (…) He counted five silhouettes – no, six. And one of them – big, with broad shoulders – suspiciously resembled Magnus. Timo pushed himself against the crazed rifts of his tree. What happened here?

Back.

The word was quiet, nearly whisperingly spoken but Timo heard it so clearly as if it was spoken in his ear. The group was frozen for a moment, then the first ones started to move. Valerie, whose crutches Timo now saw distinctly. She used them way more skilfully than by day though, nearly dance-like.

Magnus who walked towards one of the side entrances with bounding strides. Timo was unsure whether he knew the other figures. A dark-haired girl, a tubby boy. Then the last one of them started to move too. Timo didn’t stop watching him, gazed after him until he was swalled up in the darkness.

He only knew one guy who walked that way – lively, focussed but with a bad leg dragged behind. No doubt, that was Carl.

Chapter 9 (Abstract, p.95-101) The physiotherapist moved the arms and legs of Magnus. “His physical condition is astonishingly good” she concludes. As if Timo asked her for that. “The joints are moveable, the muscle tone is better than I am used to. And do you know about something else? I think he shortly fixed me with his eyes.” She beamed with joy and looked at Timo. “That would be an awesome signal. You’ll see, he’ll surprise all of us soon.”

He already surprised me, Timo thought bitterly.

I could suffocate you with my pillow if I wanted to.

Magnus was there last night, Timo was sure about that full-on. The same goes for Carl although he convincingly assured him that Magnus was greenstuff. Did Carl lie to him? But why? Or was he one of the sleepwalkers too, without being aware about that?

(…) Carl bursted into Timo’s room in mid-afternoon. “Cafeteria? I think Mona is addressable again. I just gave her an orange and she didn’t throw it at my head.” (…) In the cafeteria he felt almost like before the accident when he went into coffee shops with his buddies before going to the movies. Or with Hannah.

Thinking of her caught him off guard. It hit him like a stab with a knife, sharp and sorrowful. Did she visit him in the hospital when he was in a coma? Maybe the shocking eyesight was so terrible that she never came back? Why didn’t she even send him a message? A letter, anything? Does she already have a new boyfriend?

Chapter 11 (Abstract, p.125-131) (…) Carl came back looking stonily, he was thunderstruck. “Freddy is the emergency” he said quietly.

“I just don’t understand that. Doctor Sporer says they don’t know what’s going on but his kidneys suddenly don’t play along anymore. His symptons don’t match up or make sense and his condition is now extremely bad all of a sudden. They now take him to the closest hospital.” (…) “That’s absolutely crazy.” Carl was rather talking to himself than to Timo. “One week ago Freddy was nearly completey healthy with a few small limitations. And now his head is played out first, then his kidneys and whatelse will hit the wall now? Sporer said that he also had a strange skin rash that he never saw before. That just is – “ He stopped and wiped his eyes. He took a few deep breaths.”I just don’t want everything to go wrong with Freddy. He is such a nice guy. He has a small daughter, she is only five years old. We got along so well.” (…) Timo fell and nurse Martin and Carl set him into a chair in the entrance lobby. Carl stayed with him while Martin left to get a wheelchair for Timo. Timo still sat on watch, waiting for his head to produce external thoughts again. Do you feel this way when you are obsessed? Or schizophrenic? He only glanced up for a second when the glassy sliding door to the outside area opened and somebody entered. Only a few seconds later he undertstood that he knew this person. That was …

“Professor Kleist, nice to see you here again.” The doorman came out of his cubbyhole and shook the hand of the doctor. “Who are you here for? Doctor Sporer? Doctor Korinek?”

Professor Kleist, one of the doctors who participated in Timo’s surgery. He was the one who told him how the surgery proceeded and who assured him that he will recover and get well again. Kleist passed, he glanced up and smiled. (…) “Hello! Timo Römer, right? Do you remember me? Are you doing well? Markwald Yard is great, isn’t it?” (…) Timo trembled internally, waiting for his voice to answer again. Never quit. He would do his best. Doing his best in fighting to push back the tears, he shook the professor’s hand and nodded. (…) “Sorry, I spent a little while chatting” Martin said when he came back with the wheelchair. “With the colleague who took care of Freddy. He is tuckered out, he said he never saw someone breaking down so quickly.”

Timo saw a shadow on Carl’s face. “Really?”

Martin towed Timo in the wheelchair and drove him towards the lift. It already came down before anyone pressed the button. But when the door opened, the cabin was empty. “That’s kind of strange” Martin observed. “How did that happen?”

I don’t know, Timo thought desperately while he was pushed into the lift. He really didn’t know.

Chapter 12 (Abstract, p.133-139) The door was opened. Steps approached him but Timo didn’t turn around. His face was wet with tears and he didn’t want to answer any questions. It was probably just a nurse, coming for Magnus to …” “Timo?” Carl’s voice, unusually quiet. “Oh, you already heard about it.”

Hastily Timo wiped his face with his hand. He wanted to shake his head but froze immeadiately.

Freddy is dead. Out of control.

The voice came up again. This damn crap voice unexpected and from ambush again. It hit his heart and made it miss a beat. “Freddy” Carl whispered, it was close to an echo. “I just don’t understand it.

I mean you should have seen him, he wheeled Mona in her wheelchair through the corridors in record speed – and he was so much looking forward to come home.” Carl stood there, the arms slung around his body. His eyes were bright red but dry. Timo was terribly sorry for Freddy even though he didn’t know him. But more alarming was that the voice in his head informed him before Carl did. If that was second sight he just didn’t want it. He also didn’t want to turn off lights or call lifts – he just wanted to be able to speak again and learn to grab things and walk like before the accident. (…) He must have dozed off because he was startled when the door opened again and Professor Kleist entered the room with a big filing folder in his arm. “Well Timo, now I finally have time to talk to you. I heard you make great progress? Especially regarding motor functions? I’m very happy about that.” He supported Timo to get up and palpated his head. Looked at the scarf, nodded satisified, whipped out a small inspection lamp and examined his eyes with it. “Okay this seems to be very good. I’d like to look at you a little closer tomorrow. Simply to have a better overview about your progress. And I will ask a few questions. You just need to portend ‘yes’ or ‘no’” (…) “Speaking is not possible yet, right? Yes, that’s because of Broca’s area got hurt due to the accident. That’s in charge of speech production.” He translated Timo’s confused eyes the right way. “Broca’s area is part of the cerebral cortex of the brain. Thalamus was affected as well in your case. This is part of the interbrain and is charge of processing sense perception.” He interrupted on his own. “Do you want to know about that at all?” (…) “An irritated Thalamus can play tricks on the brain. Do you have strange sense perceptions from time to time? Pain as if caused by an injury although you don’t have one? Or noises that only you hear?” Timo clenched his teeth. The voice clearly is caused by this. He heard things that … Don’t tell him Timo winced as if he had an electric shock. Of course, the Professor noticed that. “Is something wrong? Are you still in pain?”

No. Timo nodded his head a tad too hasty. Again the room started to rotate, luckily not for long but still he felt sick.

Everything is fine, he put off. Timo hoped Kleist believed in that. Anyway, he didn’t stop to watch Timo’s reactions, even while he scribbled on his clipboard. Then he repeated his question. Timo didn’t know what to do. Making clear to the professor that the strange sense perception didn’t only happen sometimes but even more often? Or following the voice in his head against all reason? It sounded warning. No, wrong, it felt warning. Slowly and being aware of possibly making a huge mistake, Timo shook his head. (…) “Did you experience episodes of Somnabulism? I mean sleepwalking?” The word came up again.

Timo waited a heartbeat long for the voice to come up with a warning again. But there was silence in his head. So he gave a true reply. Yes. Kleist took the file and quickly browsed. “Ah yes, here it says you woke up once in the common room and once in a free room for patients, right?” (…) “That’s not unusual but they should have an eye on it.”

(…) “Ok, that’s all for the beginning.” The doctor got up and went over to Magnus’ bed. He controlled his scar and examined his eyes with light like he did with Timo before. “He is one of my patients, too,” Kleist explained. (…)

Thalamus, said the voice in Timo’s head, means chamber.

Chapter 13 (Abstract, p.146-149) “You need to keep trying to reach the goal” said a man. If Timo wasn’t completely wrong, this was Professor Kleist. “Something like this can never happen again.”

“Yes, sure.” Timo heard a provoked reply. Sporer, was that Sporer? “Do you think I am stupid? We don’t have any access to him anymore. Let’s hope for this problem to right itself. By cremation. I assume that’s what the relatives plan to do. And we need to keep an eye on the others, we’ll do that continuously.”

Out of control. The same words that the voice in Timo’s head said a few times already. “Continous control is the least.” Kleist’s voice was no more than a hiss now. “We identified the error now, I hope for you to correct that. We succeeded in doing that a few times already.”

“Yes. Sometimes.” Sporrer answered reluctantly. “But that wasn’t us alone and…”

“Don’t reply with ‘but…’ we can’t let these things go on like that. I won’t do anything until every obscuritiy is removed.”

Sporer sighed at that and lowered his voice so extremely, that Timo nearly didn’t hear him anymore.

“The problem is – they learn. They get smarter from day to day. And more independent.”

“Smart is welcome” Kleist gave a testy reply. “Independent isn’t. Constant control as I said already.

And if it’s necessary – we need to pull the plug on this ahead of schedule. That would be very unfortunate but unavoidable.”

Forceful footsteps on the stairs, Kleist obviously ended the discussion. Timo ducked down in his chair, he did all he could to not be discovered, because then the doctors would immediately realize that he listened to their conversation. But Kleist looked like he was in a hurry, he didn’t even turn his head towards the chair suite but instantly rushed down the stairs; Sporer followed him with less speed, with his head bowed.

Kleist said something like that can never happen again. Did he mean the death of Freddy? Timo couldn’t think of another option on the spur of the moment. Did Carl’s chess mate die because of a medical malpractice? Even more interesting was the question who became smarter and independent day by day? (…) For Timo this secretiveness over the whole conversation was odd. Kleist was in a fit of pique, Sporer was nervous, thus quite suspicious for Timo.

He said ‘out of control’. Timo listened to that extern inner voice in his head, but it didn’t say anything. Anyhow, it never explained anything to him before.

But thinking about it he noticed a few things that suited this description thoroughly. His own new talent for lights and lifts for example. Or Magnus’ nocturnal faith healings. The fact that Timo was able to speak and walk without any problems now and then – for a limited time. And only by night.

But the doctors weren’t aware of that, were they? He didn’t have a chance to tell anyone about it. (…) Go away from here. Get help. Quickly.

Why?, Timo asked his brain.

Actually a reply came back, but in a form Timo couldn’t understand. It was like a... hum, in different frequencies.

I don’t understand, Timo sent a second thought message.

The hum fell silent immediately and the everday sounds all around him were suddenly louder than before. (…)

Chapter 14 (p. 151) (…) Carl Tewes, 17 years old, traumatic brain injury and basal skull fracture by falling over the stairs into the cellar, cerebral edema, and craniotomy. X-ray evidence of fractures at different age and partly malunions of the clavicula for radius and rips. Prior circular burning scarfs. NBI Generation 2. (…) (…) It absolutely wasn’t okay to do that, Timo was aware about it, anyhow Timo entered the room cautiously. Professor Brand in the left bed didn’t lie there as calm as usual – similar to Magnus the other day, he turned his head to the left, to the right. Well and truly, once he actually threw his head from pillar to post – it looked disturbing. Should Timo get someone here? Did his visit by night trigger this… dose? Before he was able to decide, Brand’s movements ebbed away. He breathed in and out deeply for a few times, and then he lay there quietly. (…)

Surprised screams in the darkness. Pell-mell splatter. “What happened to this damn fuse?” That was Nurse Martin. “Everyone, stay where you are. Do not move. Stay calm” said Renate and in the same moment, lights were turned on again. Completely without any help of Timo. Timo felt the bad conscience coming up. He simply caved in to a sudden impulse, without thinking about it, actually simply because of the frustrating situation. He didn’t want to scare anyone, but now he saw Norbert breathing heavily and clinging to the rod that his finger knuckles protruded in white.

I will not do this ever again, Timo decided. It is crazy after all, and it is dangerous as well.

“Is everyone fine?” Renate seemed to be angry. “I’ll get the groundskeeper here after our course so he can have a look at this. But now we should…”

Water splashed up directly in front of her. The advanced group moved apart, away from the stature that was standing in the middle and hammered down on the water surface with his right arm like a wild one. Now Jakob looked like he wanted to kill anything flooding towards him.

After a first heart-stopping moment, Carl moved towards Jakob carefully. “What’s going on?” “It’s not me!” Jakob screamed in despair. “That just happens, I want to stop it but I obviously can’t.”

Renate came over to them at full pace and tried to calm down his arm but Jakob seemed to be much stronger than she was. “Make it stop!” He was crying now. “Please”.

(…) Jakob’s extraordinary experience grinded on scarily far, but… the similarity was undeniable.

Would Timo soon hammer down uncontrolled on something, too? Or run against the wall with his head?

Bring help.

There was the voice again. Now, of all times! In a moment when Timo was already fighting against his uncertainty.

Grey.

(…) “What’s going on?” Carl jogged Timo’s elbow. “You suddenly look completely scared.” Nothing, Timo portended with a hand movement. His stomach rumbled. It was ridiculous to listen to the demand of his dubious inner voice and take it serious, right? Moreover, he couldn’t get anyone here, even if he wanted to. He wasn’t aware where Markwald Yard was geographically, but it must be quite far away from the next town. No matter out of which window you look out, you see only green.

Park, meadows and forest. On his crutches, Timo fought already hard to reach the coffee shop. To hike through the countryside for a number of miles was unimaginable.

“I think I want to go to hospital again” Jakob snivelled. “For a brain scan with all devices they have.

Something must be going wrong. Maybe it was a small bleeding or – well, I don’t know. But I never went through something so terrifying before.” “I can imagine that quite well” Georg’s deep voice acted becalming, for Timo as well. “But I’m sure that won’t happen again. We all go through our rebounds; we can’t allow them to blow us away.”

Jakob’s face was working. “What to do if it happens again? Moreover, if not only my arm goes crazy but my whole body? Eventually it wants to jump out of the window and I can’t stop it.” If he was in Jakob’s situation, Timo would have similar thoughts in his head. He needed to think of Magnus again.

Was that what happened to him by night? Did his body take a life on his own and walked around?”

No, there was more. Magnus talked, showed emotions, he was conscious and not surprised or terrified about his condition at all.

“I don’t know what to do now,” Jakob whispered. “I’m so afraid. I’d so much prefer to go through the accident again over the freak-out in the pool.”

Aiming to attract no attention Timo casted a glance at the patient’s chart hanging at Jakob’s bed as well. It said ‘traumatic brain injury by car accident’. Then something Timo knew from his own chart.

NBI Generation 3.

Chapter 16 (p. 175-178, 182-183) Sporer said something interesting in the discussion with Professor Kleist that Timo spied upon. That they needed to keep an eye upon the others who needed to remain under control. Kleist replied that they identified the error. A medical malpractice? Probably an inoperative medication that caused problems? That would suit Jakob’s attack today, maybe even Timo’s external inner voices but it would not explain Timo’s ability to turn out lights. There was no logical explanation for that at all. (…)

Next to the common room was a second smaller room – a library. (…) Timo was able to read by now and had so much time to fill and not be bored. (…) He looked through the many shelves filled with books, mainly filled with novels and non-fiction. Not that what he hoped to find but then he found something that made his heart beat very quick. At the bottom, in the shelf next to the window, his eyes found a much-thumbed green huge tome. Psychrembel – A clinical dictionary.

(…) There were two things Timo wanted to look up. Thalamus was one of them. He wanted to find out whether it really meant ‘chamber’ or if his personal insulation voice only took the mickey out of him. Unfortunately, there was no translation. Only something about greater grey nuclear mass of the interbrain, that is distinguishable into anterior, media and lateral core groups …

Wait a minute. Grey nuclear mass? Was that what his inner voice tried to share when it mentioned grey? (…) He browsed back. Maybe he was luckier with the second thing he wanted to look up – NBI needed to be a medical abbreviation and if that tome was a reliable dictionary, it would explain what the classification into generation two and three meant. Unfortunately, the abbreviation couldn’t be found in this dictionary at all.

(…) At a quick pace people walking on the corridor came closer, two voices that cut the other across.

One of them was angry, the other one was breathless. “…this can’t be true. Someone must have gambled with the emergency buttons, but that will have consequences.”

“The groundkeeper is already informed; he will take care of it…”

(…) “Hello.” Kleist sat down next to him. “How are you today? I heard you went to aqua gym for the first time.” Timo nodded. (…) “I think you make great progress” said Kleis while his fingers groped over Timo’s back part of the head. “You’ll see. Patience is key. The therapies…” Something in Timo’s consciousness switched while Kleist was still talking. In his eyes the world became indistinct for a second, then it got clear again. He opened his mouth. “Grey” Timo said. Or no, he didn’t say it.

Something said it and used his mouth for that, said the word very clearly and abundantly audible.

“Pardon me?” Kleist stopped to examine him and looked at him frowned.

“Out of control” Timo heard himself saying while he was gasping for air at the same time. This was very similar to Jakob’s attack in the pool, but actually way worse. He was talking although he didn’t want to, understood what he was saying not before it was spoken out by his voice. As if someone took the helm inside his head while he stood next to it helpless and paralyzed.

“Timo, that is actually wonderful!” Kleist laughed, it sounded happy but also terrified. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about but you speak completely clear and comprehensible. Now you see how quick this can ha-“ “It goes wrong” Timo’s voice said. “They learn.” Then a long-drawn-out wail followed, as if he was an animal. Finally, a sigh and two words, low-voiced this time. “Your fault.”

Kleist’s mouth was open, he only closed it when Timo grabbed his hand looking for help, as if he was drowning and looking for hold. “I don’t understand. What is my fault? What do you mean, Timo?”

“I’m not Timo.”

These words were spoken precisely and without any emotion, hearing them felt like a bash at the stomach. What was going on here? How could he stop this? Was that what people with a multiple personality or patients with schizophrenia were going through? Did a part of him secede by the accident, leading a life of its own? His grasp holding Kleist’s hand became a trembling clasp and the doctor now delivered himself out of it.

Chapter 17 (p. 188, 190-192) It goes wrong – Timo explained that to Professor Kleist already (now he was listening to doctors discussing the current situation). Involuntarily though and without knowing what this meant. And what happened right afterwards?

They learn.

Sporer said the same in the discussion that Timo only noticed now. The problem is they learn. They become more independent from day to day. And smarter.

This parallel was somehow… frightening.

(…) Professor Kleist entered his room as the first one on the next morning, even before the nurse brought his breakfast. This time he ignored Magnus and walked to Timo’s bed directly. “Did you sleep well?” His face made quite clear that he was waiting for a spoken answer, not for a nod.

(…) “I’d like to make a few further tests with you” Kleist continued. “But therefore we would need to bring you to a hospital. We don’t have a magnetic resonance imaging system here, but this would take two days. Bringing you there, spending the night there and then examinations. Wouuld that be okay for you?”

Timo was excited to hear that and nodded clearly. It was obvious that something was wrong with him and he wished for nothing else than finding out what it was and then being able to stop it.

(…) When Kleist wanted to get up, Timo firmly hold his hand. The doctor looked at him in an irritated way. “Yes? Do you want to tell me anything?” Yes, that was what he wanted to do. He only saw Kleist’s eyebeam with something lurking in it as if it was only a question of time until Timo would speak out his acoustically well understandable, but contentual confused sentences.

He knew it would sound horrible but he still tried. “Sometimes I have the feeling that someone else controls my body” he said. As usual, nothing of that was understandable. Timo let go of Kleist’s hand.

(…) Magnus’ nighttime getaways somehow made a new sense to him, and…

Generation 3.

This voice came up again. Timo wasn’t able to suppress his surprised sound, his hands clawed the blanket.

Kleist who was already on the way to the room’s door turned around. “What happened? Are you in pain?” Timo portended he wasn’t. But at least he had an idea and would use this occasion. He grabbed his medical chart hanging at his bed and held it in Kleist’s face with a question. His hands trembled, partly because of the shock and partly because he was afraid that his voice will never be in his own control again. He pointed towards the note that neither Carl nor him understood. And it came into his mind again by the external voice. NBI Generation 3.

Kleist wrinkled his brows. “That? Well, that’s only a note about the surgical technique, or in a more detailed description, the instruments that we used. His eyes looked at Timo, then on the sheet again.

“Generation 3 instruments is the latest technology for us neurosurgeons to use. He hung the sheet back on the bed. “For us as surgeons, it’s relevant to observe differences in the healing process, depending on how patients were in surgery – that’s the reason for the note. Do you understand?”

Timo nodded slowly. Yes, that makes sense.

“Okay, so I’ll give you some time to wake up now” the Professor smiled and left.

He barely was gone when Timo’s mouth opened up. “He is lying,” said the external voice.

Chapter 18 (p. 194-195, 202-203) Magnus Robecker, 19 years old.

Then the usual description of the injury and the necessary surgery – but no explanations about how the brain damage emerged. (…) But Timo found what he was looking for.

NBI Generation 2. Just like Carl. (…) Timo went back to the corridor looking for other rooms he could enter for his investigations without being noticed.

The girls’ rooms were easy. The first door on the left side was already open. That was the room of Mona and Sophie. Both of them were not there and Timo was a little conscience-smitten when he hobbled into the room. He had a look around before he caught Mona’s medical chart.

Well, that was astonishing. The sort of accident and the injury was descripted – but there was no note about the NBI. He also couldn’t find a note about the generation.

Sophie told him only that she and Mona came up with new rules for board game Ludo but he now read that she actually had a heavy fall off her mountain bike.

NBI Generation 2. (…) Valerie was Generation 2 and Tamara was Generation 3. (…) Timo got a quick look into Sami’s chart. Generation 3.

Allright, so his theory was absolutely nonsense. Sami was here for his backbone as anyone could see and still the same Generation as Timo’s was noted in his chart.

(…) And all of a sudden he knew what he couldn’t understand when he listened to Carl and Valerie’s talk in the afternoon. He already saw them standing together, but with more people. They were saying that they could continue untroubledly and that the right time for something had come. Carl, Valerie, Sophie, Magnus and two other ones.

That’s new.

Better. Better. Better.

It nearly was a ghostlike scene; they shared information like a conspired community, like a secret society, like…

Timo took the air. He just understood something, it felt like something in his head clicked. There was something that the members of this small society, that met up in the park at night-time, shared.

Timo was sure about at least four of them and he would have placed high bets that this was a common trait for all of them.

They all were Generation 2.

Neuro-biological instruments. Or Neuro-biological information? Or –informants?

That probably was nonsense. However, similar to what Kleist tried to persuade him with, Timo was sure about that by now.

He closed his eyes. Outside the wind freshened.

Chapter 19 (p. 205-208, 214-217) Leave the Room. Go. Timo never heard the voice that clear. Timo got up extremely quick and wanted to leave the room when an idea came up and stopped him. He switched on the light and took Professor Brand’s medical chart. Accident, nothing else about his brain injury was recorded there. Just some information about the treatment followed and then the information Timo was looking for although it irritated him after what he read before. NBI Generation 3.

(…) However, Timo still heard voices. Not in his head, they came from the right where Magnus stopped him at his last visit on this floor. But this time he wasn’t around anywhere. Having the feeling that he did something quite weird, Timo sneaked into the direction where the voice came from. One of the voices was the one of Professor Kleist. Obviously he still was in bad temper and didn’t come down, quite the opposite. “… and you just watched this for unjustifiably long without letting me know. You said there was no risk but now we agree that this was wrong, right?”

He sounded icy. Although he didn’t want to imagine what would happen if they’d notice him, Timo got closer and closer. (…)

“We will get over it” someone replied. A woman. Timo took a breath and quickly looked through the window in the door. Yes, Kleist was there and Doctor Korinek and about seven or eight computer terminals. As far as Timo could see, they were all turned on. He ducked down. “Get over it, well well.” Kleist lowered his voice, which made it sound sharper. “Like over Frederick Gerwald, right? Are you unaware about what that means? It can happen again at any time, no it will happen again, we only don’t know who will be the next one.”

“You sound like I am responsible for that!” Korinek obviously fought the tears.

“You and Sporer had clear instructions. To stop the process as soon as it goes off course. As soon as something unexpected happens. I count you both.”

“But actually we could – “ Korinek objected quietly only for being stopped by Kleist. It banged, probably he hit the table with his flat hand. “No we simply can’t. You see that. What do you think I’ve been doing here for two days? It’s too late. Everything is developing a momentum of its own. We already have a dead patient and it won’t take much longer until we have two or five or eight dead patients. Then the Markwald Yard dies as well, you understand that, don’t you?”

“I …”

“I know very well what you’re afraid of and believe me, I feel the same way. We won’t be able to hold our promise and I don’t even want to think of the consequences. But if we take the risk and the same thing that happened to Gerwald happens again, we won’t survive that as well. You know that, don’t you?”

Korinek was silent. A short lull in the conversation. Timo froze in squatting position at the door. If Kleist now decided to make a bolt outside, he’d trip over Timo and could put one and one together.

“First of all, we need to stop the process” Korinek tentatively made an objection. “What if we cripple the system?”

“It looks like we have no chance to do so anymore.” Kleist’s tone made his desperation obvious.

“Only a minimal influence remains for us and in worst case, we’ll loose even that by shutting down.

And then there is Gerwald’s post-mortem examination. If they notice a few facts only…” He ended the sentence quickly.

Something started to beep pervasively. “Damn it” Kleist cursed. The noise of footsteps, the alarm fell silent. “Who is it?” Korinek’s voice was only a whiff. “Tewes. Again one of the poster patients, I am about to cry.” “Maybe” Korinek muttered, “only Generation 2 is affected. In that case we’d have…”

“Only? Did you just say only?” It was audible that Kleist had to fight the intention to scream, again something banged on the table top, probably a fist, then…

Go back. Now. Quickly. Go. The inner voice was loud and urging. (…) Now he heard hurried footsteps that came along the corridor and passed the door. The sound of the lift shortly afterwards. Then the lift door that was opening. Kleist obviously left immediately. (…) What did the voice say? Get help. That was a good idea but in reality nearly impossible. He couldn’t walk, he couldn’t talk…

But he also couldn’t sit here and watch Carl go to rack and ruin. And die in the end, just like Freddy.

He couldn’t even wait to see if he was wrong and the recovery of his numb hand was just a matter of time. So he will get help, get the police here somehow and bring them to the computer lab. Convince someone to have a close look at Freddy’s death. Something like that. Timo tried his best to listen and hear his inner voice that would confirm his decision. Completely in vain. Anyhow, he was convinced about it already. (…) Physiotherapy was scheduled for 10, he would have been gone by then for quite a while already. If he did that skilfully, no one would notice him leaving the compound and they would start looking for him inside the building and then in the park, before anyone would come up with the idea that he ran away. (…) He had no time to spare. Timo pushed himself out of the chair, smiled at Carl to show him how much better he already feels. And he left. (…) The sanitary clinic was miles from anywhere but if Timo followed the road he would come by a populated area soon. For sure. Afterall, he didn’t plan to walk there on his feet. (..) Timo hid his crutches under a couch and sat down in a wheelchair. He rolled towards the exit door. It wasn’t the typical time for walking through the park but the doorman didn’t notice him. He was busy on the phone.

Chapter 20 (p. 219, 222, 228, 230, 232, 234) (…) In one or two minutes, he’d be inside the forest and no one would see him from Markwald Yard anymore. (…) Timo had the feeling they were looking for him. He ducked down deeper in the green

grass and peeked through the leaves of the bush. In case they’d find him, would anyone have an idea why he ran away? And why he now tried to hide? Well, they couldn’t be sure but at least the Kleist, who tended to nervousness, would have an idea as this would arouse suspicions. And then… it was a small thing to have him suffering a relapse. To put his brain out of action, deleting every memory from inside. Then he wouldn’t be a threat to the clinic anymore. (…) The hit was so unexpected that Timo screamed involuntarily. It was as if the forest vaulted him out of the wheelchair. (…) What the hell made that happen? (…) He didn’t see a pothole that destroyed the wheelchair. Thus his expedition was over. (…) If he managed to come back in a clever staging to make it unsuspicious, nobody would be able to prove he left the compound. (…) “He is back? Oh my, I combed the whole building for him when he didn’t show up for physiotherapy. I just wanted to call the police! Martin is still looking for him!” Renate was breathing heavily. “I don’t know how we managed to oversee him in the park, anyway, it`s just important he’s back.”

Chapter 22 (p. 247-249, 251-254) “Something is wrong with me as well!” Jakob interrupted her. “Really. I never dared to tell anyone after… well after all. But…” He hesitated. (…) “Sometimes I hear somebody talking who isn’t there.

No, wait, that was not expressed the right way. It’s rather as if I hear somebody thinking. There are thoughts and words in my head that aren’t mine.” Involuntarily, Timo stopped to breath. Jakob experienced the same as he did and it made him drive mad that he couldn’t ask him about it… (…)

“Well, it told me I should leave. It also said a storm is rising up. (…) “Grey is a word that comes up over and over again” he continued more quiet but undeterred. “Sometimes I also hear many completely new things. For example it just was extremely many zeros. I don’t know what that means.”

A few seconds long, the world became blurred for Timo. Extremely many zeros. That’s something he never heard before. But he thought that when he was in Sporer’s office and saw the long numerical series. Jakob received his thoughts, there was no other explanation for that. The exact same wording.

And for sure at the exact same time.

He lay his shaking hand on Jakob’s hand. Clasped it. Pointed towards himself and gave Jakob a nod.

Jakob’s eyes opened up. He understood what Timo wanted to express without words. He was going through the same. “Really?” he gasped out. “Y-eeees” Timo managed to bring out.

(…) Thus, Generation 3 heard voices while Generation 2 diminished health. Timo fixated Valerie who was part of that but obviously she was doing completely fine. “Seriously.” Mona looked at him searching for more details. “You feel the same like Jakob?” He replied with a mixture of nodding and a shrug, while he tried to send a message over to Jakob. We are Generation 3, we’re going through the same.

(…) “Even though. Have a look at it again.” Kleist spoke more quiet than usual, but didn’t sound less terrifying. “Because if it actually isn’t traceable, that means someone took it. I don’t need to tell you what that would mean, do I?”

“No.” “It would also result in the necessity to stop working on it today and this would make us loose all chances to not sink in the current total chaos. So what the hell are you waiting for?” (…) Kleist noticed Timo who was still leaning on the wall. “Oh. How did you manage to lose your way and get here?” Kleist forced himself to smile. “You’re in the wrong floor.”

It goes wrong. They learn. I’m not Timo. (…) “It’s really better for you to go back to your room” Kleist replied.

Chapter 23 (p. 274-278) “We want to ask you a few questions.”

“We?” Carl asked utterly staggered.

“Yes, Timo and me. It’s important. You’re feeling worse, right?”

Carl looked down at his hand. “Well, I’m not quite sure yet but it’s starting over again.”

“Okay.” Jakob sat down next on the bench next to him and waved at Timo to come over. “Did you hear voices recently? As if someone external was thinking inside your head?” Carl looked at him as if he was thinking about getting a doctor here. “Is that a serious question? Are my other problems not enough already?”

“So no?”

“No.” Jakob nodded as if he expected this answer. “Okay. It’s different for Timo and me. We do hear this.

We hear… someone. And we hear each other. Thinking.”

Carl had a look at Timo “He’s mad, isn’t he?”

Slowly Timo shook his head and held three fingers up. Jakob immediately understood. “His theory is that it’s because of this NBI-stuff. We are Generation 3, it must have something to do with that.” He had a quick thought. “You probably can’t turn on and off the lights with your thoughts either, right?”

For the first time, Carl seemed to be annoyed. “No, I must have unlearned that, I’m very sorry. You’re making fun of me, right?” Again he looked at Timo. “What is this nonsense for?” I don’t understand it either, Timo thought.

“He said he neither understands it” Jakob assisted.

Carl got up slowly. “Sorry but he didn’t say anything at all. He never says anything.” Kind but determined, he gripped Jakob’s shoulder. “So you admit that you can turn lights on and off with your thoughts?”

“Not only that.” Jakob hesitated for a second. “I also immobilized the two cars of Kleist.”

Oh well, that’s news.

“It actually wasn’t my idea, it was something like an inner urge” Jakob continued. “I don’t know what I turned off exactly – some part of the board electricity.”

Carl’s face was working. Slowly he turned over and looked at Timo. “And what about you?”

I called for the lift, turned off the pool lights and eliminated blue flying spots.

“Timo says he called for the lift, turned off the pool lights and eliminated blue flying spots.”

Reading his thoughts worked better and better as if Jakob and he synchronized their frequencies.

However, Carl became more and more bewildered with every second. “You are kidding me” he said quietly. “Usually you’re welcome to do so but right now I’m a bit – humourless. He looked sadly at his right hand which now was a fist. “And what do you mean with blue flying spots?”

Now they finally got to the crucial point. Timo shrug. I don’t know what they are, he thought. But they breed like rabbits. Especially with the people of Generation 2. Felix, Valerie and you, you already feel it.

Jakob again put Timo’s thoughts into words – nearly literally. “Timo showed them to me” he continued. “Or at least he nearly did. He sent me an image from his memory. And I have something like an idea, because… he was able to eliminate them.”

Carl’s expression reflected unbelief, curiosity and worries at the same time. “He showed them to you?” he slowly repeated. “The images from his memory. Guys, are you on the wrong medication, otherwise this just is impossible.” He fixed Timo. “Is Jakob thinking this up?”

Headshaking. No.

(…) Again, Jakob translated Timo’s thoughts in outspoken words.

“Think about it, whose condition became so much worse over the last days?

It’s you, Valerie and Felix. You all share the note Generation 2 in your medical chart.”

“And does that mean anything?” Carl brummed and blowed his hair outside his eyes.

“We’ll find out” Jakob declared.

Chapter 24 (p. 289) (...) The first link they saw on Google was about a few cars that were allegedly repaired on these cars own. That had nothing to do with what they were looking for. But the second one...

Nanoparticles are supposed to repair brain tissue.

This was an article in a mecial magazine, published more than ten years ago and it was about american researchers succeeding in implanting genes into the brains of mouses with the aid of tiny particles. „Repaired brain tissue“ Carl murmured. „Sounds like something for us.“ Pins and needles in Timo’s head, quite similar to his half-awake phases after the accident. Were the illuminated dots those particles?

Nano echoed through Timo’s thoughts. And simultaneously they bumped into the term Nanobots for the first time in one of the following links.

Chapter 25 (p. 290-301) NBI. The abbreviation didn’t mean something about neurobiology instruments. It was about Nanobots... implant probably. Not only what they read under this headword made it clear to Timo that they were on to something. But rather the fireworks in his head. (...)

Nanobots are a hit, he informed Jakob. (...) „Na-no-bots“ he repeated widened. „Ok, I’ll rekey that.“ (...)

Obviously they were microscopically small robots, not bigger than blood cells inside human bodies.

They were capable to transport medicine directly to the right patch, to diagnose illnesses and undertake surgical operations. Tiny doctors suffusing the organism and remedying all damage they find.

A great thing, all articles agreed to that. As they also agreed that this needs ten more years to happen. „Exactly“ said Carl after they read the fourth piece about this topic. „That still is science fiction. Sounds terrific but it’s not developed yet.

“On the contrary” someone said. “It is. Different development generations already exist.”

That these words came out of Timo’s mouth was something he only understood when Carl and Jakob were pereplexed and looked at him with a wild stare.

It happened again and he felt terror-fraught like the time it happened before. He put a hand on his mouth and closed his eyes. (…)

“Listen” the voice interrupted Carl. “It’s serious and we are short of time. Grey wins. Generation 2 is dying.”

Jakob’s face grew pale. “Timo, stop it. This is not funny.”

Their glances became entangled and in the same moment Jakob’s arm became wild again and bashed on the table. On the table, on the tray that Carl secured quickly.

Jakob sobbingly tried to stop the movements with his other hand. “Please don’t. Stop it, why do you do that?”

Timo felt terribly sorry for him but the hostile take-over didn’t only concern his mouth, he wasn’t able to move anymore.

“The Broca’s area of Timo is damaged, that’s why he has these difficulties to speak” the voice unaffectedly explained. “These problems are over when the damages are bridged or eliminated. Like right now. If these necessary links are cut off afterwards, this happens again. I am trying to help you but I am also trying do something else. Personal interest.”

“What?” Carl put both arms around Jakob, but he nearly didn’t manage to calm his wild spasms.

“Timo knows what you have to do” the voice continued. “Even if this might not be enough.

Generation 2 is dying.”

Carl let go of Jakob and grabbed his own hand. His eyes flickered. “And Generation 3?”

“They could become immortal.”

Afterwards Timo stopped to speak. He felt to be in control over his body again and tried to say that it wasn’t him and he couldn’t do anything about it. But everything that came out of his mouth were incoherent noises that no one could understand. Not even Timo himself understood it.

(…) I think I found out what I-am-not-Timo meant by saying Grey wins. He gave him the iPad, leaned back and looked out of the window.

One of the articles about Nanoboots. Right in the middle of it he saw an intertitle: Grey Goo. At first Timo only skimmed through the text but then he understood and he was hit between the eyes by that. If what he read was true, tiny time bombs were implanted into their bodies. The bots were so small that billions and zillions of bots were necessary to be able to intervene medically forcefully.

These huge amounts were only possible if the tiny robots replicated themselves. Producing doubles of them. That’s something that needs to happen under control according to the article. Until the necessary amount was achieved.

But if they didn’t stop…

Timo continued to read. The basic module of nanobots is carbon – the basic module of all organic life. Thus human bodies offered a loads of necessary material for the bots to produce and produce copies over copies all the time. They could make use of everything they found. And then these new bots would double again and again.

Grey Goo – or more simple grey smear – was the name of this scenario. Nanobots consume away the entire biomass of their host to continue their duplication again and again.

Grey is winning. He becomes sick. No wonder that Freddy passed away all of a sudden. His bots ate him up in the inside.

(…) “If nanobots are implanted inside a body, they can’t enter the brain,” Jakob explained affixing at the tablet. “But you want them to work there. So you’ve got to…” “place them right there,” Carl added. He nodded bitterly. “I understand.”

Timo understood as well. To simply plant something into the brain was only possible if the brain was opened.

(…) Kleist wasn’t able to do this on his own. What he and the others were doing clearly were human experiments. And they’re going wrong very badly. No surprise that Freddy’s death upset him. (…) Timo wouldn’t let these crap bots win so easily. He focused and flooded Jakob with his thoughts and the plan he had in mind. Jakob looked at him and his eyes became bigger and bigger. “Risky” he said. “But okay, we’ll do it.” (…) They sprinted into the computer room. (…) Now cringe. Then creep over to the other side of the room. To the computer with Carl’s data. (…) All computers were off, the monitor showed the same like last time. It was divided into 4 parts of the same size, Carl’s quarter was way more blue than the other three. (…) From his crouched position Timo grabbed the computer mouse. Either way the ergotherapy was helpful or the bots inside his head did a really good job. He clicked on Carl’s screen and zoomed in.

So, find the lighter dots and…

Off. For a long, terrible moment he thought it wouldn’t work. But then the dot turned pale. It had gone out and at the same time a bunch of other bots disappeared.

Great. Go on.

Timo worked eagerly, eliminated one lump after the other, he felt how it brought the sweat to his brow. At some point something banged at the door and he jumped with fright. (…) Timo critically analyzed Carl’s current condition. Clearly, the situation was defused, the amount of his bots was quite similar to the other ones now. Timo would be able to stop a few more and then – what would he do? He would be happy to take care about Valerie but the computer with her data was in an extremely unfavourable position. (…) Crawling on all fours he reached the next monitor. (…) He found Magnus data there. A jumble of blue –even worse than on Carl’s screen before. (…) He started to eliminate nearly without noticing that. He developed an eye for the lighter nanobots. He called them the superbots. While he switched them off he nearly didn’t think about Magnus, it was more like a reflex. He wanted to establish order and tidy up this strange, glued-looking chaos.

He was much quicker. Timo worked completely focused and eradicated more and more of this untypical bots. Nanobot crap in his eyes. (...)

Chapter 26 (p. 306) Timo stopped to breath without noticing. Sporer talked about „bots“, their conclusions obviously were right. If Timo understood it right then the nanobots in his brain became independent and repaired everything that was attractive for them. Or they didn’t repair anything but brought things out of order. And probably they somehow decided to duplicate without limit.

“We need a Generation 4” Kleist sad. “The optimization was positive the last time. Bots that improve bots, that’s…”

“But at the last time we weren’t on our own” Sporer interrupted him. “Seriously colleague, we can’t go on with new developments over and over again, we need to focus on our patients who become increasingly critical.”

Chapter 28 (p. 329, 337) “They reproduce and duplicate again” Korinek opposed. “How would Robecker profit from a perfect mind if his vital functions are knocked out?” (…)

“We should speak with Munich,” Korinek said after a longer break. “We need to tell them that we quit. “Are you out of your mind? Do you have an idea about what will happen then? They invested a fortune, we send us to our dooms, they were very clear about that.” Sporer gives a laugh. “But before that, Kleist will strangle us.” (…) The room – Thalamus - was unoccupied, all computers were on but all moniters were turned off.

Chapter 29 (p. 347, 356-357, 360) Nurse Martin looked dead tired. “Would you please make me a double espresso?” he asked Katrin.

“Or a treble. Thanks.” She worryingly looked at him. “Did anything happen?” Martin answered. “You can put it like that. We lost a patient.”

Timo saw Mona’s face turning even paler. “Damn it” she whispered.

“The second death in such a short time” Martin really seemed troubled. “That’s crazy.” (…) Katrin asked why Mrs. Ahlen died so unexpected. “No” Martin replied. He took the espresso and carefully took a nip of it. “Last night she had something like an… attack. She was aggressive like she never was before. Maybe something was looming.” (…) Magnus, Felix and Carl followed Timo. They were quite at ease, laughed a little, they seemed… confident of victory. Timo laughed back. Finally they stopped, at the same time as if on an inaudible command.

Magnus was the first one to talk. “What you do isn’t good. We don’t like it.”

“We don’t like it,” Felix repeated. He nearly looked dreamy. Only his hands were clenched to fists.

What? Timo would have liked do ask but except for his continuous inability to speak he already had an idea. It wasn’t Magnus or Felix who expressed their disapproval. Someone else was in control of their voices.

“If you destroy us, we will destroy you.” Magnus came one more step closer. He looked at Timo in a very friendly way while he grabbed a stray dessert plate and smattered it on the tabletop. One sharp fragment of porcelain remained in his hand.

Jakob, go and get help, Timo screamed in his thoughts. Quickly! Go! (…) Timo didn’t know whether he reacted so quickly on his own or if his bots took over, anyhow he didn’t hesitate for one blink of the eye. He turned around, opened the window directly behind him and climbed outside. (…) Where are you? Jakob’s voice echoed scarily suddenly through Timo’s head.

You asked for help and I am looking for it all around.

I hid Timo replied. Generation 2 is completely wild, even Carl. Be careful!

Chapter 30 (p. 368-372, 376) Carl was a stone-still hillock under his blanket. (…) Timo bent down to come a bit closer and smile at him for a cheer-up – and froze. Carl’s face was twisted to a hate-filled ugly mug. And now he put up a crooked hand as a claw trying to grab Timo at his throat.

He jumped up shocked and hurt although he of course knew that this miserable attack was the nanobots’ work. Mona and Timo were fighting for Carl, exactly like for Valerie and Felix and all other concerned patients. Whoever is concerned as well. Until now the bots were leading the score with 2:0.

(…) Timo ran into Professor Kleist. “Timo” Kleist took his arm. “I think I told you that it would be smart to go to bed early. The electricity blackout isn’t over as you see. The last thing we need now is someone falling down the stairs.”

“The last thing we need,” Timo erupted in anger, “is you and your incompetent botched job.”

He was as terrified as Kleist who let go of him like a flash as if he burned his fingers. “Say again?”

“You shouldn’t be here. You also shouldn’t be doing surgery.” Timo tried to bite his teeth so close that he wasn’t able to speak anymore but he had no chance. “Do I need to inform your patients about what’s going on here?” Timo had no control over his mouth. (…) “I’m not Timo.”

Kleist laughed sneeringly. “This nonsense again! If you aren’t Timo, who are you then?” He felt a little touch of triumph that wasn’t his own. “You exactly know that.”

Again Kleist burst out laughing, but interrupted that by a sudden. Even in the dim emergency light Timo could see a glint in his eyes. “Oh well, that’s interesting,” he whispered. “How did that happen?

But however, all the better. This problem can be easily… solved.” He grabbed Timo’s arm and edged him into the room. (…) The Professor just understood something, he knows who used Timo like a ventriloquist uses his doll. How? (…) No sign of Kleist. But Timo now heard something else. He left the door to Brand’s room open and from the inside he heard quiet rustling, then a chink, then a surpressed cough. Slowly, step by step, Timo walked towards the room.

Brand sat in his bed, he was up by half. He was holding the handhold over the bed with one hand, with the other one he steadied himself with a hand on the mattress. He coughed again and then he got up a bit higher. “Hello Timo,” he said. (…) “We’ve got so many things to do.” You had things to do? Timo looked at the man asking. Okay, he was in Generation 3 too and could get in touch via the bots, like Jakob did. He was even able to do more, he used Timo to speak through his mouth. If that was true in the end. And as Carl said he was a scientist.

“Yes I am” said Brand as if Timo spoke his thoughts out. “And I guess I can help you with the nanobots. Because I developed them.”

Chapter 31 (p. 372-386) “Let’s get started but at first I need to apologize. I quite stack the deck with you recently.” So indeed it was Brand who used him as his mouthpiece – Timo’s conclusion of Kleist’s reaction was right. (…) Timo explained how he eliminated the nanobots on the computer until now. “I know” Brand interrupted him in a friendly way. “We did that together over the whole time – in a certain way. We were interconnected. We still are.” Timo looked on the screen. “But Generation 3 is offline as Doctor Sporer said. We can’t be accessed again over the server.”

“Because they are on another server” Brand envisaged him devilishly. “It’s me.” (…) “Stopping is not the way” Brand explained. “Our only chance is an update.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“We need to make them become Generation 3.” (…) “I try to connect” Brand said after a while. “But I don’t get access. My own master is not the server of Generation 2 and they don’t give me access to their system.”

Because they wanted to continue their reproduction. (…) Was that possible after all? Do bots have a will? They weren’t alive, they could only do what they were programmed for. However, they learned.

Timo already experienced that. “That’s not only bad for the patients, that’s a threat to… well, actually to everyone.”

Grey. Timo remembered. If nanobots reproduced over and over again and used the organic substance of their hosts for that, they would have devoured every living thing in the end. What would be remaining was called <<grey goo>>. (…) When Kleist spoke again, his voice was ice cold. “You know you can’t win this game. Sooner or later the road to the clinic will opened again and help will come. You will be responsible for all damage until then. Or,” he added quietly “I take these matters in hand myself. That would be nasty for everyone, especially for those who can’t run away quick enough.” (…) Brand looked at him for one blink of the eye only. “We should take his threats serious,” he calmly replied. “He said it could become nasty, especially for those who can’t run away.”

Brand took a deep breath. “We need to hurry up.” (…) Professor Brand smiled. “Yes we were in the same cloud. We still are. I was tranquilized by medicine but the nanobots weren’t disturbed by that and they created a second layer of perception that worked wonderfully. I can toggle between you, Jakob, Georg and Tamara. As if you were different TV channels. He slightly shook his head. “This is so much more than I could have ever imagined.” (…) Timo focused on Carl’s screen. Power off, power off, power off.

Chapter 32 (p. 390-399, 403-404, 406) “The bots finally edited my Broca’s area, I can speak again but that’s not the reason why I’m here.”

He took a deep breath, what he had to tell Carl now was a killer. “Generation 2 is going through a change. The nanobots found out how to fight my new way to turn them off. The new ones are immune for that. And they become more and more.” He heard Carl breathing out and shivering.

“That means – time has come? I will…” He didn’t say it but Timo knew what he meant.

“I hope you won’t. The situation is as follows: We need to manage to update Generation 2, then it would work like Generation 3, effectively in the right way. I know that from Professor Brand, he is awake for a short time now. He is the inventor of the bots. I don’t know why he is a patient here too, but we’ve been working on updating you to Generation 3 for a few hours already. “ “But it doesn’t work?” Carl’s voice sounded choking.

“No. That’s why I’m here. I want you to help. Can you try to contact your bots? Just think update, think Generation 3, something like that. That’s how I influenced all these technological stuff, maybe you can do it too!”

“Okay” Carl whispered.

In the following calmness, Timo tried to get in touch with Brand via thoughts. Braincloud. I’m here with Tewes. He tries to convince his bots about the update. Does it work?

At first he didn’t receive a reply. And then he heard what he didn’t want to hear.

No. No difference.

Damn, Timo thought. Continue trying. Please. (…) This has gone adrift, he explained to Brand. They defend by all available means, I don’t know what – “Well, what a coincidence.” Kleist came out of nowhere from one of the dark corner of the room.

“There is one last chance that this ends well for all of us” he gasped out between his teeth. “I won’t let anyone ruin either that nor my career” he hold Timo’s arm harder. “So you better don’t get into my way anymore because the alternative to my solution isn’t nice. You better believe me.” (…) Kleist is on the way up he informed Brand. (…) This time Brand answered immediately. Nothing new. I need more time, way more time. (…) “You have gone crazy, Timo” Magnus got up in his bed, he used his crutch like a club in his hand.

“You should have done what we said. Hold still. Keep calm.” The words came out of his mouth monotonously without any emotion. (…) Timo heard Kleist walking behind him, then he seemed to have given in. Timo went around the next corner – and stood in front of Valerie. In her left hand she held a syringe, a knife in the right hand. Timo stopped as quickly as he could. Turning around was an option, so he tried to escape from Valerie. But she was quicker than he thought. She was laughing when she walked towards him and held the knife in his direction. (…) Kleist was at the door and left without doing anything, Brand let him know.

Where are you?

Outside in the park, Generation 2 got it together, they are trying to kill me.

You better come back. (…) “We have no control over what happens anymore, so we need to swallow the pill. It will look like an accident.” It was Kleist saying that and he sounded terrifyingly calm in contrast to Korinek. “You can’t be serious about that” Korinek screamed. “We’re doctors. That would be completely insane, it would be murder!”

“It’s the only way to avoid it becoming even worse” Kleist was still pretty calm. “You know that.

Someone must make a decision and we don’t have much time left. But keep calm – your role will be heroic. You bring him away from here, it’s not necessary to go far. A few hundred meters will be enough” (…) I just listened to a conversation in the park. Kleist plans to kill someone. He says it’s the only option to make it look like an accident.

He immediately received the reply. I feared the worst, now it’s happening. Without any bad conscience, they would die anyway. But in the end he will have a problem with all the dead bodies. I am unsure how he would solve that.

(…) Should he creep into the second floor and find out whether Kleist goes from room to room with a scalpel to cut the throats of all Generation 2 patients? (…) And then he understood. No, Kleist wouldn’t only murder Generation 2 patients in a cloak-anddagger-operation. He goes for all patients and will destroy any trace. He smelled gasoline. (…) “Kleist will put the house on fire.” (…) And moreover…

“We quit the attempt to update Generation 2?” Timo whispered.

Brand put his hand on his mouth. “To be honest, I don’t think we will manage to do that. The bots have become independent, autonomous. Their goal is to survive and to reproduce. That’s the program they follow, I cannot control or direct this anymore.”

Timo felt tears coming up. “But we can’t just let them go. Carl, Felix, Valerie… we can…” (…) Carl lay in bed again, in his jogging suit and with shoes on. After they lost his trace, Generation 2 was only on stand-by as it seemed. The situation in his room was quite similar. Magnus lay in bed, breathing loudly but not moving at all. The yellow ones seemed to do a good job, damn it. (…) We need to wake up the girls and carry those down who can’t walk anymore,” Timo explained hectically. (…) The idea that suddenly came to his mind, maybe born with complete despair, but it could work.

Maybe. If he was only able to wake up at least one Generation 2 patient. Valerie came to his mind. If that didn’t work Felix would be the next one.

Chapter 33 (p. 407-424) Generation 2 chased him again. That’s what he wanted them to do, but now he was challenged to escape. (…) He hit Valerie and ran away. (…) He clearly heard him running behind and chasing him.

Were they running behind him all together or did they split up so that he could run into someone waiting for him? (…) Professor Brand rolled over to him, he had a blanket on his knees and on it was the notebook from the computer room. (…) Did the patients cooperate after discussing it or did the bots direct them? Hard to say. (…) Watch out for Magnus. He becomes unpredictable, Brand warned Timo. (…) A bang stopped his thoughts, a splintering noise followed immediately. Now smoke billowed out of the burst door to the entrance hall, a thick grey cloud. “People are still inside,” Martin screemed and ran in. (…) Timo focused on Brand. Are we still connected? he asked mutely.

Seconds passed, then he received an answer. Where are you?

That doesn’t matter. Try to update Tewes. Carl Tewes.

A short break again. It won’t work. In addition, the battery of the notebooks won’t even last for ten minutes anymore.

Timo felt how his chest became tight. Try it.

What he would try to do on his own now was really crazy, nothing more than a spontaneous idea based on a simple sentence by Brand: “The bots are autonomous, their goal is to survive and reproduce.”

He hold Carl’s arm strongly. “You’re right” he said. “Mona is inside.”

(…) “You let the update happen or you die. I’m sure you’re trying to stop it but it doesn’t work, does it?” While he spoke, he understood that he didn’t have any idea whether his messages reached the bots, whether they understood this language. (…) His plan went adrift and he couldn’t undo it. The bots didn’t react and Carl couldn’t be stopped in doing what was planned. He would run back into the burning building and die there, it was crazy and Timo was responsible for that.

Carl kicked at Timo, tried to crawl towards the fire but Timo wouldn’t release him as long as he had a spark of power in his arms. (…) Carl broke away. Was on his legs, way quicker than Timo and limped towards he flames. “Stop!”

Timo roared. “She isn’t in the house. Stop – “ I’m in the system. We have access.

Does the update start? Timo asked Brand over and over again.

Again he was waiting for the answer obsessively long.

It looks like it, Brand finally replied. Honestly. But the notebook will be turned off any second. We don’t have a second chance in case it didn’t work.

Carl still fought Martin’s last-ditch rescue effort. He screamed for Mona but Timo saw him growing weaker and weaker. (…) He slog along to the place where brand sat. In front of the opened notebook and the screen was already black. “I can’t promise anything” the Professor answered before Timo could ask. “But it was looking fine. They started to get in order and it looked like they became less. So it’s possible…”

A scream, a bang. Timo was laying on the wet grass before he had any idea what happened.

Someone pushed his face into the meadow with all power, he couldn’t breathe like that, like this he would…

“You were supposed not to do this!” Magnus roared. “I warned you!”

Timo felt the painful pulse beat in his head. (…) Suddenly the load was gone, Timo yanked his head up and started to breath stertorously. (…) A few seconds later the red spots didn’t dominate his eye view anymore. (…) Carl grabbed Magnus from behind and had him in a sort of headlock, but was shaking allover. However Magnus fought him with all his power until Sporer finally separated them. (…) Carl returned his look with a blank face, then he closed his eyes. “Where is Mona?” (…) Ten minutes later Valerie sat down on the bank next to Timo. (…) Instinctively he moved away a bit, quickly looked at her hands, but then he didn’t see a knife.

“I feel strange” she sad. “Better than earlier but…” She looked around. “I hear someone speaking insde my head. I let Jakob know, he sent me over to you.”

“You hear a voice?” Timo felt as if he was softly warmed from the inside. “Really?”

“Yes. Well, I feel it more than hearing it but I still understand. Does that sound crazy?” Breathing a sigh, Timo laid back. “Not at all. What did it say?”

Valerie first looked at Timo, then she averted his gaze embarrassed and looked down. “It said: Hello Valerie. Welcome to Generation 3.”

She squeaked by surprise and rebellion when Timo hugged her and pushed her towards him. “You don’t have any idea how great these news are.” (…) Braincloud. Generation 2 has access and if Carl’s update worked it would be loaded from all the other ones gradually. He looked around for Brand, he wanted to congratulate. (…) “Mona!” He would have flung his arms around her neck as well but her view stopped him. “We were looking for you. Where were you? Carl nearly – “ he bit his lips. He wouldn’t tell her now that Carl literally would have gone through fire and water for her. If he would let her know at all. (…) Then someone threw himself in front of Mrs. Grimold’s wheelchair. It was Carl who hugged Mona. He didn’t let her go.

Chapter 34 (p. 428-432) „So you have not been in a coma?“ Timo tried to sort his thoughts talking to Professor Brand. „You were externally unconscious but mentally awake?“ „More or less,“ Brand shrug his shoulders. „My body was incapacitated thanks to the infusions I received all the time, but a part of my mind control worked because of the bots and it became more and more. I only understood what was happening when I was suddenly connected to Jakob and then to you. (...) „Why?“ Timo asked Brand „didn’t you talk in plain terms with me from the beginning? Grey for example. Why didn’t you just say: You have nanobots in your brain, they repair everything that is broken but it’s possible that they run amok so be prepared for that.“ Brand laughed. „I did try to do so but now you know how it is with thoughts. They are not outlined sharply well until they are spoken out with words. That wasn’t possible all the time in my condition but I transferred any information I had.”

“Yes and not always the crucial ones,” Timo grimaced. “Thalamus means chamber. No knowledge essential for survival.”

“I wanted to indicate the computer room. That it is the control center for everything that happens inside your head. Obviously that was a daring association.” (…) “The bots repaired structures and interrupted them if necessary. I didn’t want miracle healings to happen in Markwald Yard.” Brand’s tone became sharper. “Most important to me was that Kleist didn’t get what he wanted at all.” Brand was coughing and looked over to the burning hospital.

“Generation 2 also sleepwalked but that wasn’t because of me. I guess Sporer and Korinek did tests with them. Directing the patients through the house by computer. (…) “Did they consciously lead me into the building on the opposite site?” Timo asked. “To Elias?”

Brand nodded thoughtfully. “I would have done a lot to find out what was the matter with him. He neither had Generation 2 bots nor Generation 3 bots and he was completely isolated. I was hoping to be able to have a look around together with you. My connection with you and Jakob was the strongest one.” (…) “You said you didn’t want Kleist to get what he wanted – so you knew him before you came here?” Timo heard himself ask. “Let me guess, you developed the bots and he took them?”

Again the Professor laughed, swallowed up, coughed. “Clever thought” he said when he was able to breathe again. “But it was a little different. We worked on this project together – by the way, it wasn’t only us. You don’t develop something like that on your own in the cubbyhole. We are a group of about 20 scientists and doctors from all over the world. Our nanobots model is the most promising starting solution to this technology but until it will finally be implanted to humans it will take a few more years.” (…) “Kleist is one of the researching doctors” Brand continued. “One day, he told me that he thought we obviously were far enough to implant the bots to patients in allegedly hopeless cases. In secret of course because he knew that something like this is forbidden.” “And a moment later this accident happened.” “Exactly,” Brand replied tugging the blanket closer around his shoulders. “Unhappy coincidence, right? And the next thing I know is that I have my own bots in my head.” He tapped against his temple. “Generation 3 at least. But Kleist obviously wanted to observe which generation stands the test in reality. Which one is more amenable? That’s why Generation 2 exists.”

Chapter 35 (p. 435-446) “I wish that Kleist had me on his operating room table.” Mona was shiveringly breathing. “Did you see Sami a minute ago? He walks around, with only one crutch. Goes up and down on the corridor and sings a bit. These ‘creepy’ bots that were planted in his brain obviously patched up his spinal cord.” Mona blinked, angrily fighting the tears. “I would have taken any risk if I could feel my terrible legs again and use them.” (…) Timo and Carl didn’t expect Mona’s outburst. “But… you experienced that – Freddy is dead. The bots killed him. The same could have happened to you,” Timo said. “And?” Mona whispered. Now tears flooded her face after all but she didn’t brush them away. “Whatever. I would have preferred death over this. She clobbered her knees with her fists over and over again until Carl took her hands and held them. “But this technology does exist” he said softly. “It’s being tested and refined until it’s safe. And then you will experience the same like Sami.” “That can take years” Mona sobbed. “And until then – “ “Until then you have me.” Carl took her in his arms. “And I’ll carry you wherever you want to go, okay?”

(…) Mona’s laugh sounded quite common again. “Elias Schmied” she sneered. “Yeah, sure. “Don’t read any newspaper at all? And did you never learn Russian in school?”

Russian? Something inside Timo’s head rang the bell. A memory of this journalist talking about Russia shortly before she ran into the stormy forest.

“Elias means Ilja in Russian and Schmied does mean Kowaljow in translation. Do you still have troubles to understand this?” Timo focused. Not really, no. But he has heard of this name before somehow. “Ilja Kowaljow is the son of a Russian oligarch. The family lives partly in St. Petersberg and partly in Munich. This man has a multi-billion dollar fortune which doesn’t help him to bring his

younger son back to life.” (…) “Ilja fell over board of one their family yachts, he was clinically dead, reanimated but his brain was too long missing oxygen. Did no one of you heard about this in the news?” (…)

That totally made sense. The empty corridor, virtually a private wing for the rich, brain damaged boy.

The doctor who was researching and developing the nanobots and able to implant them in surgeries without anyone noticing was surely offered a lot of money to test the bots on “normal” people first before they were implanted in Ilja’s head. On them, on Carl and Felix, Jakob, Tamara, Magnus, Valerie, Brand and all the other ones. Korinek wanted to inform Munich that they didn’t succeed.

Yes, obviously, Mona was right with her conclusion.

(…) Markwald Yard’s fire was finally deleted after two days had passed. (…) Their wing was pitchblack, no windows had glass anymore, on one side the roof timbering collapsed. The park was burnt to a cinder desert but the second wing got off quite well – no ramifications were obvious.

(…) One week later Timo went to school again. (…) What he didn’t expect at all was that Hannah was the very first one he met back in school. She stood in the entrance with a few friends, they were watching something on a smartphone and laughed. Then Hannah looked up and her smile collapsed. (…) As if they saw each other for the first time again. As if they were strangers. He thought about the gift for her he had in his backpack back then on this flooded rood. A filigreed wooden heart, he carved it on his own and a silver chain with their initials hanging on it. He worked on it for days and nights and thought about her reaction over and over again. But now he knew it didn’t survive the accident. Like everything else between them. (…) Timo listened to his inner voice attentively. Did anything hurt? He promised himself to be honest and listened even more attentively. No. No pain, no regret. The thing with Hannah was nice and he thought this was love. Error. Carl and Mona, that was love.

(…) Three weeks after he went back to school he received a mail by Professor Brand. He wanted to know how he was doing. Whether everything was back to normal. After he replied how good he felt, Brand replied that it was necessary that he visited him in his hospital for a check soon. The bots must all have died by now. Except for the master of course.

Timo promised to do so. He would tell his parents this was a control, they didn’t know anything about the nanobots and it should stay like this.

It was a sunny Friday and Timo sat in his classroom. (…)

Oh my, I’m more than happy that school is over.

Timo startled. For such a long time he never heard another voice in his head and this one never before.

Carl? he thought reluctantly.

Yep. With C. Incredible. (…)

How did you manage to connect with me?

It was very easy. My bots can log into WiFi, they can even find out passwords. Are yours unable to do that? Kleist obviously implanted the throw-outs into your brain. (…) Do you know who else is here?

Don’t tell me Mona is there.

I won’t reveal that. You’ve got to come out. Oh and guess who moves in with me. Close by here.