“I don’t think so,” I replied. “I doubt it would make much sense to me.”

He raised an eyebrow—not quite as theatrically as my Commander-in-Chief but just as dramatically. “You might be surprised. But here, let me do it for you.”

He did so, opening up the folder.

I saw a multitude of brain scan images—colorful and dotted here and there with illegible, squiggly handwriting.

“What am I looking at?” I asked, sitting down to get a closer look.

“PET scans,” Porter said. “Lots of them. Dr. Stone printed them out, every time he did one.”

“Right.” I looked up at him. “So?’

“So these images show the mind of a man who has something very wrong with him,” Porter replied. &ldqu...

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