Neuro Google: The Day All the Damn Lies Ended

George sat in a white lab room, next to an MRI machine that was vibrating softly to a U2 song. No, that was his iPhone. George twitched and slapped at his pocket to silence it. The blonde woman in the dark blue suit turned and frowned at him. “Did you bring your paperwork?” she asked. “Um, yeah, hang on.” George pulled a wad of papers out of his back jeans pocket. The woman frowned even more deeply as she took and unfolded the wad onto her clipboard in small, precise motions. “Well,” she said, “I see you’ve signed everything properly, at least.”

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