Stone had lost it. There was true madness about him now.
She walked back over to Kristen and leaned over and
kissed her. Kristen stared at her in unfocused confusion, but then she smiled.
"I'm alone in here. Will you take me outside? I want to find my mother."
The voice was that of a five‑year‑old and it sent a chill through Alexa. The "grown‑up" memory cells in her brain had been replaced by blanks. It was "last in/first out" and thirty‑plus years of life experience were being replaced with brand‑new nothingness.
The Syndrome. Time had to move in one direction or the other. The body either went forward or in reverse. There was no equilibrium.
Then she had a further thought. Winston Bartlett was not going to let this Beta disaster run to its natural conclusion— a horrifying exposure to the world. He was going to intervene. Kristen was not about to leave this room in her current condition. Either she left cured—which seemed wholly implausible at this point—or she departed in a manner that left no trace.
Then yet another thought crossed her befuddled mind. She and Stone knew about Kristen. What does that mean for us?
"Stone, we can't leave her here."
"What are you proposing we do?" he queried. "Take her to an ER somewhere? Frankly, I don't know how you would describe her problem to an emergency room admissions staffer."