Chapters are serialized here for paid subscribers.About This Novel

In Clifford's Spiral, the stroke survivor’s past is blurry, and his memories are in pieces. He asks himself:

Who was Clifford Olmstead Klovis?

Stroke sufferer Clifford Klovis tries to piece together the colorful fragments of his memories. What’s left for Clifford?

Chapter 23

How to get Myra to care deeply for him — the problem burned in Clifford’s brain more than the structure of the universe or the nature of consciousness. More than the meaning of spirals or the elegance of math. Those questions were mind games for geeks. Admittedly, he was one. Or had been. But who would pay attention to him now, even if he could or would speak? Other more accomplished theorists would get Nobel prizes for puzzling it all out someday.

He thought the spiral thing was important. Hawking said the notion of the corkscrew could have made a difference way back when. But mathematics must have evolved well enough, having progressed according to a different point of view from the one Clifford was suggesting. After all, this math got astronauts to and from the tiny International Space Station with regularity.

Hawking surely had it right about women, though. Make the lady laugh. You didn’t need to be a Nobel winner to figure that one out. But — break his vow of silence? Language would be essential, fundamental, to any successful plan. Fart sounds and burps might amuse but wouldn’t get him the quality of attention he craved.

The question was now unavoidable — could Clifford speak if he wanted to?

He had told himself he’d been withholding speech. It took a Herculean strength of will to resist the diagnostic prodding and poking, to remain passive and unresponsive to all those cleverly devised stimuli.

Have I outwitted their tests or simply failed them?

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