It's
a
February
afternoon
,
and
I'm
sitting
in
a
hospital
room
in
downtown
Albany
,
New
York
,
as
a
team
of
white
-
jacketed
technicians
about
the
bed
of
a
40
-
year
-
old
single
mother
from
Schenectady
,
named
Cathy
.
And
they
are
getting
ready
to
push
the
outer
bounds
of
computer
-
aided
?
mind
reading
.
?
They
are
attempting
to
?
imagined
speech
.
?
I
have
been
led
here
by
Gerwin
Schalk
,
a
,
Austrian
-
born
neuroscientist
,
who
has
promised
to
show
me
just
how
far
he
and
other
codebreakers
have
travelled
since
that
day
decades
ago
when
David
Hubel
and
Torsten
Wiesel
made
history
by
listening
in
?
and
decoding
?
the
patterns
of
firing
in
a
cat's
visual
cortex
.
Cathy
is
epileptic
and
plans
to
undergo
brain
surgery
to
try
to
remove
the
portion
of
her
brain
that
is
the
source
of
her
.
Three
days
ago
,
doctors
lifted
off
the
top
of
Cathy's
skull
,
and
placed
117
tiny
directly
onto
the
right
surface
of
her
naked
cortex
so
they
could
monitor
her
brain
activity
and
map
the
target
area
.
While
she
waits
,
she
has
volunteered
to
participate
in
Schalk's
research
.
Now
,
next
to
my
chair
,
Cathy
is
up
in
a
motorized
bed
.
The
top
of
Cathy's
head
is
in
a
stiff
,
plaster
-
like
,
mold
of
bandages
and
surgical
tape
.
And
a
thick
jumble
of
mesh
-
covered
wires
from
the
opening
at
the
top
of
her
skull
.
It
flops
over
the
back
of
her
hospital
bed
,
drops
down
to
the
ground
and
snakes
over
to
a
cart
holding
$250
,
000
worth
of
boxes
,
amplifiers
,
and
computers
.
An
attendant
gives
a
signal
,
and
Cathy
focuses
on
a
monitor
sitting
on
the
table
in
front
of
her
as
a
series
of
single
words
in
a
female
monotone
from
a
pair
of
nearby
speakers
.