Burke, look at this! We’re definitely picking up independent brain wave patterns.” “Are you certain we’re not just getting echos of what we’ve been feeding in?” “Quite certain.” Catherine tapped the printout with one gnawed nail. “Look at this spike here. And here.” Donald leaned over the doctor’s shoulder and squinted down at the wide ribbon of paper. “Electronic belching,” he declared, straightening. “And after thirty hours of this-is-your-life, I’m not surprised.” “You may be right, Donald.” Dr. Burke lightly touched each peak, a smile threatening the comers of her mouth. “On the other hand, we might actually have something here. Catherine, I think we should open the isolation box.” Both grad students jerked around to stare at their adviser. “But it’s too soon,” Catherine protested. “We’ve been giving the bacteria a minimum of seventy-two hours . . .” “And it hasn’t been entirely successful,” Dr. Burke broke in. “Now has it?
