I cannot say that the operation was all that bad. Of course I was awake for it so that they could wire the implants into the right places, but I was also sedated so much that I cannot really remember the details. It was the post-op period that was grim.
Being depressed was bad enough. I wish depression on no-one. That feeling of utter uselessness, all encompassing exhaustion, When I was asked if I would accept the experimental surgery, I confess that my thoughts were, "What if it kills me, death would be better than existence."
After the operation my depression was even worse. I had the pain of the healing scars, but also I was being withdrawn from the anti-depressants that had been my previous treatment. It was clear that, contrary to my belief, they had been doing some good. Without them, well, I hate to remember how I felt.
Then they started to activate the implants. As I understand things, my depression had been caused because the areas of my brain that should have been triggering good feelings had stopped working. They were getting all the right signals, but not passing the message on. They should have been triggering hormones, but weren't. I understand that the drugs that some addicts take mimic these hormones. They trigger the pleasure centres of the brain, they mimic make the addict feel good for a while, until the drug wears off. But as the brain becomes resistant to the drug the addict requires a greater and greater dosage to achieve the effect again.
Well one of my implants had the same effect. It excited one part of the brain and that, in its turn stimulated the production of the hormones that then stimulated my pleasure centres.
At first they tweaked the implant's level of activity so as to exactly, on average, counteract my depression. This process was trial and error. As my underlying mood varied the effect of a constant level of stimulation meant that I experienced a mental see-saw.
However, once they had a baseline level to work on they brought the other implant to life. This monitored the areas of my brain that should have been triggering the first area. It measured the signals they received, and then the information was used to control the activity of the first implant.
It was wonderful. I felt normal.
Once they were satisfied that they everything worked they were able to give me the control unit. This I wore like a wristwatch. It communicated by radio with the two implants. I returned to normal life, and to work. The years of depression were just bad memories. Yes I had bad moments, but everybody does, that is part of normality.
That was years ago. I was the first, the guinea pig. The technology improved. My control unit was replaced by one like a button implanted under the skin of my neck. I recharge it by wearing a special collar from time to time. The treatment has now been given to many other people.
When they had done the one-hundredth operation I was invited to come to a party to celebrate their success. I met their hundredth patient. That is how it started.
The party was held in the pub across the road from the hospital. It is often said that medics work hard and play, or in this case party hard. The music was loud, and the poor lass who's operation was being celebrated was rather overcome. I saw her expression, and moved over to talk to her. Because of the noise I had to lean towards her to make myself heard. I felt a surge of well-being. She brightened as well.
I took her hand, and led her to a quiet room. She thanked me. We chatted. I liked her. She liked me. We discovered that we lived in the same area. We promised to meet again, and we did.
Of course things happened slowly. After her operation it took her some time to rebuild her life, but I think that I was able to pass on some of my own experiences to help her.
When we were together we both felt well.
Slowly something dawned upon me.
Being ill can seriously damage your wealth. Since I had been treated I had been able to earn again, and so could rent a reasonable sized flat. She had a scruffy bedsit with a kitchen. To be fair to it, I had lived in and in fact shared much worse worse accommodation at times.
We visited each other quite regularly.
I knew that she loved a particular type of chocolate cake. She did not buy it for herself, because she thought she needed to loose weight, so the next time I visited her I bought a couple of slices. She made coffee, and I managed to sit close to her on the pretext of showing her a book I was reading. I took the box from my bag and gave it to her. She opened it, and said all the usual "You shouldn't have." and "No, I mustn't." sort of things, but I took one piece from the box and put it beside my coffee cup. She could not resist, took the other piece, and took a bite from it.
I was right. As soon as she tasted the cake her pleasure centres were triggered by her enjoyment of the cake, but not only that, I felt that mine had also been triggered. My implants were responding to her control unit as well as my own.
I nibbled my cake, and she seemed to blush. She then did something she had not done before. She leaned over, and kissed my cheek. I felt another surge of the hormone being triggered. I raised my hands and cupped her face in them. I did not have to do anything else. Our lips touched, and we had our first real kiss.
We were both out of breath when our lips eventually separated.
I did feel guilty. I stood up and moved a short distance away from her. She made to come after me but I asked her to stay where she was. At first she looked hurt, but her mood seemed to cool quite quickly.
With some distance between us, I explained what I thought was happening. I asked her to think, carefully, if she still felt the same way when there was some distance between us, and she agreed that yes, her feelings seemed different.
"You gave me the cake as an experiment."
She was thinking. She was not sure if she was offended by what I had done. She stood up. From her expression I thought that she was going to slap me. I knew I deserved a good slapping for the trick I had pulled. She withdrew her arm, and swung it towards my face. I closed my eyes ready for the slap, but she stopped her hand just short, and then gently stroked my cheek. Then I felt her breath on my cheek.
"I see what you mean. I felt your mood change myself. When you thought I was going to hit you I felt... something... not fear, but something. Then it felt so good when I stroked your cheek.
We both started to approach the other for another kiss, but then she jerked herself away.
"Is this real? Do I love you? Is it just chemistry? "
"Perhaps that is all that love is? Chemistry."
"Well chemistry and electronics for us." She laughed.
"Lets sit apart and discuss this."
We sat at opposite corners of the room. The table with our coffee and cake was between us. We both glanced at it, smiled, stood up, retrieved our mugs and cake, and returned to sit in our corners.
Neither of us knew what to say. We sipped and nibbled.
Eventually she spoke.
"I think I liked you from the start, when you rescued me from that party."
"Well I know that I wanted to rescue you, not just anybody."
"Chemistry at first sight?"
We were silent again.
"More coffee?
"Please."
I sat while she left the room. I could hear all the noises. The clunk as she put the empty mugs down. The clatter as she lifted the kettle. The hiss of the water from the tap. The kettle clattered back onto its base. Then there was the sharper click of its switch.
A cupboard door opened. A teaspoon tinged against a jar. Again. The cupboard closed again.
Silence.
Then I heard that shooshing sound that comes as the element heats up in the cold water.
The listened to pot takes a long time to boil too.
After aeons it did.
Click. It switched itself off.
Clatter. She had lifted it.
She must have been pouring.
