Page 34 of Evermore
The Treatment
Finn
F inn sat in Dr. Voss's basement laboratory surrounded by enough monitoring equipment to run a small clinic, trying not to think about how much the setup looked more like an academic research facility than a medical treatment center.
EEG machines, blood pressure monitors, and neurological testing apparatus covered every surface, humming with the kind of electronic intensity that made his skin crawl with anxiety.
“This is really happening,” he said to River, who was gripping his hand like a lifeline. “We're really doing this.”
“We don't have to,” River replied immediately, his green eyes dark with worry and something that looked like dread. “We can walk out right now, find other doctors, try different approaches.”
“What other approaches?” Finn gestured at the monitoring equipment that had been tracking his episodes for months without providing any useful treatment options.
“Every doctor we've seen either thinks I'm having a psychological breakdown or wants to study me like a lab rat. At least Dr. Voss is offering to actually do something.”
River's grip on his hand tightened. “Something experimental and potentially dangerous. Something that could make your condition worse instead of better.”
“My condition is already getting worse. Yesterday's episode lasted six hours, River. Six fucking hours where I lived through decades of experiences that felt more real than this conversation.” Finn looked around the laboratory, noting Dr. Voss making final adjustments to equipment that looked more like university research apparatus than medical devices.
“I can't keep disappearing into fantasies while my actual life falls apart.”
Dr. Voss approached with a clipboard and the expression of someone about to explain something complicated to people who probably wouldn't understand it. But there was something else in her demeanor now—an excitement that seemed less about helping Finn and more about the opportunity to study him.
“Are you ready to begin?” she asked. “The setup is complete, and the neurological mapping looks optimal for documenting your specific brain activity patterns.”
The word choice—documenting rather than treating—made River's attention sharpen. “Explain it one more time. What exactly are you going to do to him?”
“The targeted magnetic stimulation is designed to anchor his consciousness to linear time by disrupting the neurological patterns that seem to trigger his displacement episodes.” Dr. Voss gestured toward machines that hummed with barely contained energy.
“We'll use transcranial magnetic stimulation to recalibrate his brain's relationship with temporal perception while monitoring the neurological responses in real time.”
Finn felt his stomach twist with nerves. “So you're going to use magnets to reset my brain?”
“Essentially, yes. The magnetic fields will target the specific regions showing unusual activity during your episodes, ideally stabilizing them to prevent future displacement events.” Dr. Voss's confidence was both reassuring and troubling.
“The procedure is experimental, but transcranial magnetic stimulation is an established treatment for various neurological conditions.”
“Are you sure you’ve told us all of the risks involved?” River asked, his protective instincts clearly working overtime.
“Temporary headaches, possible short-term memory disruption, minor changes to mood or cognition during the adjustment period.” Dr. Voss delivered the list with clinical detachment.
“But given the progressive nature of Finn's condition, the risks of not intervening may be greater than the risks of treatment.”
But there was something in her tone that suggested she wasn't being entirely forthcoming about either the risks or her true motivations for offering this treatment. River caught it too, his expression growing more suspicious.
“How many times have you performed this specific treatment?” River asked.
Dr. Voss hesitated before answering. “Finn's case is unique. The treatment protocol has been designed specifically for his neurological responses.”
“That's not an answer,” River pressed. “How many times have you done this procedure?”
“This will be the first clinical application of the specific protocol,” Dr. Voss admitted. “But the underlying technology is well-established, and the theoretical foundation is sound.”
Finn felt cold dread settle in his stomach. “I'm going to be your first test subject.”
“You're going to be the first patient to receive a treatment designed specifically for your condition,” Dr. Voss corrected, but the distinction felt meaningless when Finn was the one taking all the risks.
River stood up abruptly. “We're leaving. This is insane—you want to experiment on him with a procedure you've never performed before.”
“All medical breakthroughs require first applications,” Dr. Voss said, her professional mask slipping slightly to reveal the research-driven motivation underneath. “Without patients willing to accept experimental treatment, we can't advance our understanding of neurological conditions.”
“Understanding,” Finn repeated, hearing the echo of Dr. Voss's real priorities. “This isn't really about helping me, is it? This is about studying what happens when you apply magnetic stimulation to someone with my condition.”
Dr. Voss's expression shifted, revealing the truth she'd been hiding behind medical authority. “Helping you and advancing our understanding of temporal perceptual displacement aren't mutually exclusive goals. Your case could provide insights that help others with similar conditions.”
“But if helping Finn were the primary goal, you'd be more conservative with treatment approaches,” River said, understanding dawning. “You'd try standard interventions first, established protocols, proven approaches.”
“Standard interventions don't work for TPD because the medical community doesn't understand the condition well enough to develop effective treatments,” Dr. Voss replied. “Experimental approaches are the only hope for patients like Finn.”
“Or experimental approaches are the only way to collect the data you need for your research,” Finn said quietly, pieces of the puzzle clicking into place.
“My mother, your daughter—they didn't receive treatment because you didn't understand the condition.
And now you're using me to gather that understanding.”
Dr. Voss went very still, her professional composure finally cracking completely. “My daughter died because I couldn't help her. I refuse to let that happen to another family when I have the means to study and potentially treat this condition.”
“Study first, treat second,” River said, standing up and pulling Finn toward the door. “We're done here. We'll find other doctors, other approaches.”
“There are no other doctors,” Dr. Voss said, her voice taking on an edge of desperation. “I'm the only researcher in the country working on TPD. Without this treatment, Finn's condition will continue progressing until he's lost to you completely, just like Elena was lost to her family.”
The words stopped Finn in his tracks because she was right about one thing—his episodes were getting worse, and they hadn't found any other medical professionals who even understood his condition, let alone knew how to treat it.
“What if we compromise?” Finn asked, the words surprising himself as much as River. “What if we do a modified version of the treatment? Lower intensity, more conservative approach, with the understanding that we stop if I show any signs of distress?”
River turned to him with obvious alarm. “Finn, you don't have to do this. We can keep looking for other options.”
“What if there are no other options?” Finn asked quietly. “What if Dr. Voss is right that this is the only chance we have to stabilize my condition before it gets so bad that I lose myself completely?”
Dr. Voss seized on his wavering resolve. “We can start with minimal stimulation, just enough to observe your neurological responses. If the treatment shows promise, we can gradually increase intensity based on your comfort level.”
River looked between them, clearly torn between protecting Finn from experimental treatment and supporting his desire to try anything that might help his condition.
“If we do this—and I mean if—then I want safeguards.
I want the right to stop the treatment at any point if I think it's harmful.
I want complete transparency about what you're doing and why.”
“Agreed,” Dr. Voss said quickly, but there was something in her expression that suggested her agreement might not mean much once the treatment began.
Finn looked at River, seeing his own fears reflected in the man he loved more than he'd ever thought possible. “I'm sorry for putting us in this position.”
“Don't,” River said firmly. “Don't apologize for having a condition you can't control. And don't apologize for letting me love you through it.”
“Whatever happens in there, whatever this does to my brain, I need you to know that loving you has been the most real thing in my life.”
River's eyes filled with tears he was trying not to shed. “Nothing's going to happen. You're going to be fine, and we're going to figure out how to build a normal life together.”
“And if I'm not fine?”
“Then we'll build an abnormal life together. But either way, we're building it together.” River leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Finn's forehead. “You're not getting rid of me that easily.”
Dr. Voss cleared her throat with obvious impatience. “If you're ready, we should begin. The optimal conditions for this treatment won't last indefinitely.”
Finn squeezed River's hand one more time, then nodded to Dr. Voss. “Let's do this before I lose my nerve completely.”