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dysfunction there? Is that why I ve been hauled in here for these tests? He had read about these split-
brain tests, given by the department from time to time.
 No, this is routine, the seated deputy said.  We realize, Officer Fred, that undercover agents
must of necessity take drugs in the line of duty; those who ve had to go into federal 
 Permanently? Fred asked.
 Not many permanently. Again, this is percept contamination that could in the course of time
rectify itself as 
 Murky, Fred said.  It munks over everything.
 Are you getting any cross-chatter? one of the deputies asked him suddenly.
 What? he said uncertainly.
 Between hemispheres. If there s damage to the left hemisphere, where the linguistic skills are
normally located, then sometimes the right hemisphere will fill in to the best of its ability.
 I don t know, he said.  Not that I m aware of.
 Thoughts not your own. As if another person on mind were thinking. But different from the way
you would think. Even foreign words that you don t know. That it s learned from peripheral
perception sometime during your lifetime.
 Nothing like that. I d notice that.
 You probably would. From people with left-hemisphere damage who ve reported it, evidently
it s a pretty shattering experience.
 Well, I guess I d notice that.
 It used to be believed the right hemisphere had no linguistic faculties at all, but that was before
so many people had screwed up their left hemispheres with drugs and gave it the right a chance to
come on. To fill the vacuum.
 I ll certainly keep my eyes open for that, Fred said, and heard the mere mechanical quality of
his voice, like that of a dutiful child in school. Agreeing to obey whatever dull order was imposed on
him by those in authority. Those taller than he was, and in a position to impose their strength and will
on him, whether it was reasonable on not.
Just agree, he thought. And do what you re told.
 What do you see in this second picture?
 A sheep, Fred said.
 Show me the sheep. The seated deputy leaned forward and rotated the picture.  An impairment
in set-background discrimination gets you into a heap of trouble instead of perceiving no forms you
perceive faulty forms.
Like dog shit, Fred thought. Dog shit certainly would be considered a faulty form. By any
standard. He . . .
The data indicate that the mute, minor hemisphere is specialized for Gestalt
perception, being primarily a synthesist in dealing with information input. The speaking,
major hemisphere, in contrast, seems to operate in a more logical, analytic, computerlike
fashion and the findings suggest that a possible reason for cerebral lateralization in man is
basic incompatibility of language functions on the one hand and synthetic perceptual
functions on the other.
. . . felt ill and depressed, almost as much as he had during his Lions Club speech.  There s no
sheep there, is there? he said.  But was I close?
 This is not a Rorschach test, the seated deputy said,  where a muddled blot can be interpreted
many ways by many subjects. In this, one specific object, as such, has been delineated and one only. In
this case it s a dog.
 A what? Fred said.
 A dog.
 How can you tell it s a dog? He saw no dog.  Show me. The deputy . . .
This conclusion finds its experimental proof in the split-brain animal whose two
hemispheres can be trained to perceive, consider, and act independently. In the human,
where propositional thought is typically lateralized in one hemisphere, the other hemisphere
evidently specializes in a different mode of thought, which may be called appositional. The
rules or methods by which propositional thought is elaborated on  this side of the brain
(the side which speaks, reads, and writes) have been subjected to analyses of syntax,
semantics, mathematical logic, etc. for many years. The rules by which appositional thought
is elaborated on the other side of the brain will need study for many years to come.
. . . turned the card over; on the back the formal stark simple outline of a DOG had been
inscribed, and now Fred recognized it as the shape drawn within the lines on the front side. In fact it
was a specific type of dog: a greyhound, with drawn-in gut.
 What s that mean, he said,  that I saw a sheep instead?
 Probably just a psychological block, the standing deputy said, shifting his weight about.  Only
when the whole set of cards is nun, and then we have the several other tests 
 Why this is a superior test to the Rorschach, the seated deputy interrupted, producing the next
drawing,  is that it is not interpretive; there are as many wrongs as you can think up, but only one
right. The right object that the U.S. Department of Psych-Graphics drew into it and certified for it, for
each card; that s what s right, because it is handed down from Washington. You either get it or you
don t, and if you show a run of not getting it, then we have a fix on a functional impairment in
perception and we dry you out for a while, until you test okay later on.
 A federal clinic? Fred said.
 Yes. Now, what do you see in this drawing, among these particular black and white lines?
Death City, Fred thought as he studied the drawing. That is what I see: death in pluriform, not in
just the one correct form but throughout. Little three-foot-high contract men on carts.
 Just tell me, Fred said,  was it the Lions Club speech that alerted you?
The two medical deputies exchanged glances.
 No, the standing one said finally.  It had to do with an exchange that was actually off the
cuff, in fact, just bullshitting between you and Hank. About two weeks ago . . . you realize, there s a
technological lag in processing all this garbage, all this raw information that flows in. They haven t
gotten to your speech yet. They won t in fact for another couple of days.
 What was this bullshitting?
 Something about a stolen bicycle, the other deputy said.  A so-called seven-speed bicycle.
You d been trying to figure out where the missing three speeds had gone, was that it? Again they
glanced at each other, the two medical deputies.  You felt they had been left on the floor of the garage
it was stolen from?
 Hell, Fred protested.  That was Charles Freck s fault, not mine; he got everybody s ass in an
uproar talking about it. I just thought it was funny.
***
BARRIS: (Standing in the middle of the living room with a great big new shiny bike, very
pleased) Look what I got for twenty dollars.
FRECK: What is it? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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