The Speed of Sound (Speed of Sound Thrillers #1)(12)

Today was Eddie’s turn. He was dressed in his best approximation of a professor, including a houndstooth blazer and an untucked oxford shirt, while the ten other patients in the room wore sweatshirts from prestigious institutions. Harvard, Yale, MIT, Stanford, Cal Tech, and the others watched with great apparent interest as Eddie began to fill the large whiteboard with the same complex equations that appeared in his binders.

The sound of the dry-erase pen Eddie used to write his complicated algorithms was soothing to him. Not because it was pleasant. Far from it. But the SHRILL sound meant that he was teaching, or as close as he would ever come to actually teaching, and that made him feel good. Important. Even scholarly. At least, his approximation of those feelings. Some of his favorite people in the world had been teachers. While many of his proctors were downright overwhelmed by the challenge of handling a special-needs student with an IQ of 193, a special few understood that Eddie was unlike anyone they would ever teach again, and relished the opportunity. These were the ones Eddie hoped to emulate.

All but one of the people currently in the recreation room had already heard his lecture multiple times, but they didn’t seem to mind, just as he didn’t mind listening to their lectures when it was their turn to teach. The staff called it academic therapy. Another brainstorm of Dr. Marcus Fenton. Like kids playing house, only this was neurologically diverse people playing university.

Today, Eddie was the professor, and the other patients were his students. Two were adolescents. The oldest was in her sixties. The other seven were somewhere in between. Some appeared to be neurotypical, like anyone you’d expect to see attending a lecture on acoustics by the world’s leading authority. Others, like the guy picking his nose with a disturbing vengeance, could never fool anyone for an instant in the outside world, former Mensa chapter president or not.

Among the other patients, specialties included string theory, cold fusion, biomolecular construction, silent propulsion systems, and machine learning. Among the staff supervising the proceedings was Gloria Pruitt, whom all the patients called Nurse Gloria. She had worked at Harmony House since 2007 and had a natural air of authority about her. She carried the wisdom that came from age and experience. Gloria stood steadfast by the door with her hands clasped behind her. She had already heard Eddie’s lecture a great many times, but you never would have known it from her expression.

Also in attendance was the one person in the room who hadn’t previously heard Eddie’s talk. She was the new medical resident he had just been introduced to.



Earlier that morning, after a breakfast of Froot Loops (with the purple loops removed) and orange juice that both rated a four, Eddie had recognized her footsteps well before Dr. Fenton knocked on his door and asked if they could come in. Right away, he knew what he wanted to ask her, which he did before even seeing her. “What were you feeling last Friday afternoon when you left Dr. Fenton’s office?”

The old man smiled as he opened the door. “Eddie, I would like to introduce you to our new medical resident, Dr. Skylar Drummond.”

She knew not to try and shake his hand. Many people with Asperger’s cannot stand physical contact, particularly with a stranger. Skylar raised her hand and waved very slightly. “Hi, Eddie.”

He stared at her for a moment. His face was, of course, without expression. He didn’t say a word.

Dr. Fenton grew concerned. “Eddie, are you all right?”

The patient stared at his new doctor without blinking. “You’re pretty.”

“Thank you.”

Fenton glanced over at a framed photo of Eddie’s mother and father sitting on his desk. The similarity between Michelle Parks and Skylar was unmistakable. And no coincidence.

Eddie kept staring at his new doctor. “People who are pretty get told that a lot. Do you get told that a lot, Dr. Drummond?”

“No, not really.”

He made a BUZZER sound like the response on a game show when a contestant gives the wrong answer.

Fenton turned to Skylar. “Eddie is a walking polygraph. It’s pointless to be less than truthful around him.” He paused as if to say, Yes, really. “You’ll get used to it.”

She turned to Eddie, doing her best to conceal her amazement. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

No buzzer. She was speaking the truth. “Thank you,” he replied mechanically. He liked the sound of her voice. It was soothing. Warm. He repeated his question, asking what she had been feeling the first time he heard her footsteps.

“Dr. Fenton had just hired me, and I was feeling happy.”

“Did you feel like you were going to be happy for the rest of your life?” Eddie hoped her answer would be yes.

“Well, maybe not for the rest of my life, but I knew I was happy in that moment, and probably would be for the foreseeable future.”

Eddie jotted down her exact words in one of his binders, then paused. “Exactly how long would you say the foreseeable future is?”

Edward Parks was just as Dr. Fenton had told her he would be. “Well, I expected it would last at least until the end of the day.”

Eddie nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer. “Dr. Drummond, would you like to attend my lecture this morning?”

“Yes, I would, Eddie. But, please, call me Skylar.”

“It starts at nine o’clock sharp, Skylar.”