Free The Return Man: Civilisation’s Gone. He’s Stayed to Bury the Dead. by V. M. Zito

your wife, or the resort where you honeymooned. The hospital where your first kid was born. Like I said, someplace that meant something to you. I find out all I can about each target from the client–the loved one, I mean–and then I go hunting.’
    Osbourne shifted in his seat and crossed his legs, one knee neatly below the other. ‘Are you saying,’ he asked, ‘that the dead remember their lives?’
    ‘In a sense. I wouldn’t say it’s a conscious recall. The human brain is complex–memories of things that happen to us are stored in the neocortex, but there’s strong evidence of an association process taking place first in the limbic system—’
    ‘Doctor Marco,’ interrupted Osbourne. ‘Now you’re the one showing off. Please, without the medical terminology.’
    ‘Sorry. Basically, our memories are stored in the higher section of our brain, the part that only more evolved mammals like humans have. But experiences in our lives that take place under strong emotion are tagged before they’re stored, by a more primitive part of our brain–a part that predates our evolution, back to the lower animals. This primitive brain is a pretty scary place. Aggression, rage,hunger… all the basic survival instincts originate here. A resurrected corpse seems to have lost function of its higher brain, and now it’s being governed by the primitive brain. Ever heard of Dudley and Stephens?’
    Osbourne raised an eyebrow. ‘No.’
    ‘Cannibals. A big criminal case in the late 1800s, in England,’ Marco explained. ‘Three men in a lifeboat after a shipwreck, facing starvation, killed and ate the cabin boy. What happened was that their malnourished bodies conserved energy by shutting down the higher brain, then operated out of the lower brain. The reptilian brain, it’s often called. Evolved functions, like ethics and compassion, went right out the window. The men’s reptilian brains saw a simple choice–eat a boy, or die. So they ate. These corpses aren’t much different.’
    ‘Interesting. But I’m waiting to hear how their memories work.’
    ‘Well, there’s clearly still a little juice–bioelectricity, that is–trickling between the brain systems. Barely, but there must be. So that wire between the reptilian brain and the higher brain is still live, and now and then a few lights go on. Remember, these things are dead, but there’s still a trillion megabytes of data stored in the cells of their brains, a lifetime of information. So maybe they see a quick highlight reel, and they just follow the pretty pictures, out of instinct. Maybe they
want
to feel alive again.’
    The corner of Osbourne’s lip tensed, and Marco thought he might smile. But he didn’t. Instead he waved his hand, and an officer appeared on the screen to place a glass of water on the table. Osbourne raised it and sipped, swishing the water in his mouth. When he finished, he ran a finger along his lower lip to wipe away an excess drop.
    Then he folded his hands again.
    ‘Thank you, Doctor Marco,’ he said curtly. ‘That wasinformative. As I said earlier, my curiosity, then yours. We’ve now reached your turn. So. Beginning with your first question, you are not in trouble, provided you remain as helpful as you’ve been.’
    ‘You want to hire me,’ Marco guessed.
    ‘Yes,’ conceded Osbourne. ‘I’ve discussed finances already with Mr Ostroff. A generous contract, and the income would be exempt from the usual Survivor Taxes.’
    ‘Wow. Are you sure you can afford that?’
    The director ignored him. ‘What I did
not
tell Mr Ostroff are the mission details.’
    ‘Which are?’
    Osbourne’s grey eyes squared off with the camera. ‘I’d be happy to tell you, Doctor. But I won’t tell it to your ceiling. Please adjust your camera so that I may see you.’
    Damn.
Marco bent his neck, cracking the joints. What the hell. He supposed it didn’t matter. He reached and lowered the cam back to himself. Osbourne nodded.
    ‘Much better.