and getting annoyed myself at her insistence.
“These are equations from Schrödinger’s theory of Step Potential.” She pointed to another set. “These concern kinetic energy.” She canted the paper to the left. “Look at this one between the people and the stars.” Her finger circled a long equation. “This deals with a quantum harmonic oscillator. It’s classic.” She suddenly pounded her fist on the table, startling me and Ivana. “And it’s fucking accurate! Now, how the fuck-” Zelda held her hands up in resignation, took a deep breath, and shook her head to calm herself down. This was her field. She was completely comfortable with all these strange shapes, numbers and symbols. But when she looked back at Ivana and I, she saw only blank, stupid stares. She struggled a smile and lowered her tone.
“Look, according to her file Patricia dropped out of high school when she was 16.” Her fingertips drummed on one of the equations. “This is the stuff I taught at MIT and UCLA. These equations are perfectly written, considering her hands are, or were, severely atrophied and rigid.” She took a breath, still disbelieving in this enigma. “There’s no way she can know these, much less write them down with such accuracy like a sixth-year Physics grad student.” Ivana looked at me, both of us in sync with the same thought.
“Photographic memory?” I proffered. But Zelda was shaking her head as if she expected this suggestion. She pointed again.
“Look at these sets between these two stars.” Her finger tips tracing a square around the equation.
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“These deal with neutron scattering, phonons, linear chains and harmonics. These are completely separate disciplines than what was written earlier.”
“But if she does have a deeply recessed photographic memory, she could have simply looked at photos of these equations in some discarded physics book, and they’d be stored,” Ivana countered. Zelda bit her lip and shook her head again.
“But where and why would she even look at them?” I could see Zelda’s skepticism and her conflict. While a photographic memory explanation could be accepted, albeit with hard scrutiny by Ivana and I, it just didn’t flow with Zelda’s scientific experience. And the more I thought about it, the more I began to take her side. As we analyzed the drawings and took stock in our theories in silence, I finally came to the realization that, like Doogie’s amazing ability to name stars just by looking at them, there was no way in hell that Patricia Miren understood or knew of Quantum Mechanics. Just like there was no way in hell that Doogie knew about Astronomy. I looked into Zelda’s large eyes, seemingly pleading for reason, and I nodded.
“You’re right, Zelda. I believe you.” She smiled slightly and laid her head momentarily on my shoulder. We both looked at Ivana whose expression was neither relieved nor convinced.
“There’s more,” she said flatly. “Zelda, I didn’t show you this part because I wanted both of you to view it together with absolute objectivity.” Both Zelda and I righted ourselves in our seats, suddenly uncomfortable and anxious.
“After that first night, I had cameras installed throughout the room to film all day and all night. I have hours of footage, but I consolidated them into this segment.”
She started the video clips after clicking on a specific folder. They were even more amazing and more unbelievable than the first one she showed. Throughout the day and into the night Patricia began to move and draw at will. Even with Ivana sitting there observing, Patricia worked as if no one were there, and with no apparent Lethargica impeding her. She used pencil after pencil, sheet after sheet-drawing, writing and marking. Ivana periodically replenished the pencils with fresh ones while Patricia waited in a frozen pose; when a new pad was needed, Patricia again assumed her statue-like position. Once Ivana replaced it, the movement would resume.
In another set of clips, Ivana tried to spoon feed her while she drew. Patricia opened her mouth and took in the food without looking away from her work. It was the first time in years that this had taken place and it was recorded on all four newly installed cameras. I heard Ivana crying softly, and both Zelda and I reached out to hold her hand. Patricia’s face had clearly changed; in fact, it changed several times before our very eyes. It was no longer twisted in a grimace, but placid. Her eyes were always closed as she drew, never once opening, but she looked serene in her waking sleep. As I looked up at the time counter and date, I realized that Ivana had stayed at her side all day and night.
By the third night, last night, the coordination between both women was utterly beautiful. Ivana was not only feeding Patricia pencils and paper, but feeding her solid foods and drink. The young woman’s body no longer reverted to her frozen poses, but remained relaxed and in more comfortable poses while waiting for Ivana. At one point, and this is what sent gooseflesh rifling up my arms, Patricia stopped drawing and turned her head to Ivana with her eyes still closed. There was no movement for several moments. But when Ivana brought her hand to Patricia’s face and caressed her cheek, the young woman opened her eyes and smiled slightly. I brought both of my hands up and cleared my eyes of tears, and when I glanced at both women with me, I saw them wiping tears from their eyes, as well. Ivana then stopped the video.
“I think we need a break,” she said smiling weakly. She got up and went to her office kitchen area where a refrigerator stood. She brought back a tray with glasses and cartons of fruit juice and placed it on the table. Both Zelda and I looked at each other and back to her, almost in unison we asked:
“Do you have anything stronger?” We all laughed immediately. Ivana then went back to the fridge and brought back two flasks, both containing clear liquid.
“This bottle has Šlivovica. It’s Bosnian clear whiskey made from plums. I also have chilled vodka.” Zelda and I looked at each other again.
“Give us the Bosnian whiskey!” we both demanded enthusiastically. Ivana laughed as she filled all our glasses and raised them in the air.
“To Ivana, a guaranteed Nobel Prize winner!” exulted Zelda.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Ivana countered. “But I’ve got plenty of material for a good case study!”
“And a book!” I chimed in. We clinked glasses and drained them. Zelda’s face puckered hard at the fruity, burning bitterness of the Bosnian libation; I just opened my mouth soundlessly in shock as the drink seemed to shoot straight into my brain. Ivana laughed again and refilled the glasses. Zelda stifled a cough, but held a thumbs up.
“Shit, that’s strong! I love it!”
“Me, too!” I muffled as I took my second glass. Ivana’s animated expression receded back to her professional yet placid face as she put her drink aside and proffered another folder.
“Just wait until you see what Patricia drew during those hours.” She handed a few pages to both Zelda and I. She then took a large magnifying glass out of her desk drawer and gave it to Zelda. The drawings were of huge dark shapes that seemed cut off at the paper’s edge.
“Before I show you the rest of the drawings, I want you to look at the large dark areas with the magnifying glass.” Zelda held it down to the almost solid black images. I saw her mouth open. She spun the pages, and looked again from different angles.
“Incredible!” She gave me the magnifying glass. I peered through it and saw that the solid black shapes were not solid at all, but symbols drawn so densely that they looked solid from a distance. I looked at Zelda, and she was nodding to me. The symbols were more, infinitely more Quantum Mechanics equations but written in a size that one would could not possibly see with the naked eye. She rotated the paper so I could view all the tiny writings of mathematical symbols.
“Jesus!” I gasped. Ivana gave us another sheet and we viewed it through the lens, but this time there were no equations making up the solid mass, but stick people. Another sheet showed the black mass filled only with stick trees.
“This one is very interesting.” Ivana pulled out another one in which the mass was full of round discs.
“What does