SYNAPTOGENESIS

prologue

The neural mapper locked onto Yara’s head. Darkness enveloped her, except for a tiny spot of red blinking at the edge of her vision. Her heart rate spiked with anticipation, even though it wasn’t her first time in the chair. Ma had brought her in to get her first neural map on the day she turned five – the only birthday present she got, but what else could possibly be better? The education specialist had insisted she needed a literacy map. Sounded all fancy schmancy until the man explained that it would improve her English and help her read. Well, she could speak English just fine, thank you very much. She had read all the books Pa had gotten for her. Still, it had been exciting recognising words she had never heard before at the end of the session, but it had faded quickly.

That was three months ago. Today was going to be different. Yara was getting her level one arithmetic map. Ma had taught her how to count, and she could add a little. But after this, she would become so much smarter.

“How does that feel?” The education specialist asked.

“It’s okay.”

The voice comforted Yara, even though it sounded far away with the headset covering her ears. She tried to remember his name…did he say it was Gary? All she could remember now was feeling giddy when her name was called. It was finally her turn, and she had stood there beaming at him until Ma had tugged on her hand. Yara decided to call him Gary in her head.

“When the mapping session begins, you’ll see pictures and hear sounds. It’s okay to blink but try not to close your eyes for too long. You don’t want to fall asleep, or it won’t work. Try to stay relaxed and attentive, but no need to worry about focusing too hard. Do you have any questions for me?”

“No,” Yara blinked hard to refresh her eyes. No way she was missing a single second. That Boy – Yara refused to call him Elliot since he always called her cream bun on account of her cheeks puffing when she got angry – had said that if you blink less during the session, you learn more. It was probably another one of his dirty little tricks, but she didn’t want to risk it.

“First, we’ll take a baseline reading and then the session will begin. I’ll be right here if you need me,” Gary said.

The silence and darkness seemed to stretch while Yara waited. Why was it so quiet? Did he leave the room? She gripped the edge of the chair she was lying on, her fingers sinking into its leather surface. It was softer than her bed. As she ran her fingers along the edge, some of her nerves settled.

The screen in front of Yara’s eyes lit up slowly. Sounds she couldn’t quite distinguish played in the background as a series of images flashed past – a house, a dog, the sun, a family at the beach, a television…then it sped up, too fast for her to consciously keep track of. By the time the screen faded back to black, Yara’s eyes were strained from being forced to remain open. How many times had she blinked? Too many…she had even briefly clamped them shut at one point to stop the burning.

As she focused on the blinking red dot, it seemed to shine brighter, almost like it was laughing at her. Did the machine think she was dumb because she missed a few bits? Maybe Gary would let her have a redo if she asked nicely…

The screen came alive once more – the mapping session was beginning.

Right, this is the important stuff. I’ll make sure I don’t blink this time. Focus, Yara.

A single dot appeared next to the symbol for the number one.

“One,” the automated voice came from the headset at the same time.

The dot split into two with the symbol for the number two next to it.

“Two.”

I already know how to count. Still, she kept her eyes glued to the screen. It went up to ten, then the dots disappeared and only the numbers remained. It sped up a little, going up in tens, all the way up to a hundred. The increments kept increasing and flashing faster…thousand, ten thousand, hundred thousand, million…and it kept going. Yara’s eyes widened, not because she was trying to hold them open, but because she hadn’t known numbers could be so big.

The screen dimmed, then a cross appeared.

“Addition.”

A set of two dots appeared and then another set of three dots next to it, then they came together.

“Two plus three equals five.”

In the subtraction phase, dots disappeared from the sets. The multiplication phase was when Yara’s focus began to waver – multiple sets of dots appeared together. Finally, during the division phase, the dots became larger and got sliced like pieces of a pie.

Yara’s eyes burned. How long had it been?

“Session complete,” the automated voice announced as the screen dimmed and darkness descended.

Really? That was it? Yara’s heart thundered in her chest. She had understood some of the addition, but the rest had been a blur. She didn’t feel smarter at all. If anything, she was more confused than before the session started.

There was a loud click as the neural mapper unlatched from Yara’s head and moved away. She wanted to grab it and put it back on, but it was already gone. Her eyes slowly came into focus, and she was back in the stark white room, with Gary hovering over her.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he helped her into a sitting position.

“I…umm…I learnt maths.” She didn’t want to admit her confusion. A sudden fear gripped her – what if she became the first person who failed to be mapped? That Boy would never stop laughing at her.

Gary smiled, the way Pa did when he could see right through her lies. “Okay, can you tell me what ten plus eight is?”

“Eighteen.” Yara’s eyes widened. The answer had popped into her head as soon as he asked. She had counted on her fingers every time Ma had asked her a similar question, but she didn’t need to this time.

“Very good,” Gary said. “Let’s check your subtraction. What’s thirty minus sixteen?”

“Fourteen,” Yara’s eyes lit up. “It’s fourteen.” She didn’t know how to subtract before, but the answer came effortlessly.

“That’s correct. Now, let’s try something a bit trickier. What’s seventy-two multiplied by twenty-four?”

Yara froze. How was she supposed to know that? Just last night, she had sat in her room counting to prepare for today, but it had been a struggle to get beyond thirty.

“One thousand seven hundred and twenty-eight.” Where had that come from? The number had simply popped into her head like before.

“Excellent! That’s the correct answer,” Gary said.

Yara forgot her earlier confusion, flushing at the praise. She hadn’t failed. In fact, she was smart now. “I know maths!”

Gary smiled warmly. “Yes, you do.”

He looked as happy as her.

In that moment, Yara knew.  I want to be an education specialist when I grow up.

Please note: Minor changes may be made before publication.