Miracle Man (7 page)

“Are you aware, Robert, that you’ve caused quite a stir, quite a bit of curiosity among people like me?”

“Yes Doctor, I am.”

“Do you like being the center of attention?”

“I don’t really care but I think it upsets my parents.”
“Do you know that you seem to be much smarter than most kids your age?”

“I don’t socialize much with other kids. I spend most of my time alone.”

“And why is that Robert?”

“Because I like to read and figure things out.”

“What scares you, Robert?”

“I don’t like to talk about that.”

Uhlman handed Bobby a Tootsie Roll. Bobby’s face lit-up like a jack-o-lantern.

“Robert, if the distance between two cities is sixty-five miles, how many steps must I take in going this distance, if each of my steps is three feet in length?”

Four seconds later, Bobby answered, “114, 400.”

“That’s correct Robert.”

“And how many minutes are there in fifty-two years assuming that there are 365 days in each year?”

“The answer is 27,331,200 minutes and 1,639,872,000 seconds,” replied Bobby almost instantly.

Uhlman reached for his scientific calculator. He hadn’t previously worked out the number of seconds since that wasn’t part of the question. The calculator confirmed Bobby’s answer. “And what is the cube root of 413,993,348,677?”

“Seven thousand, four hundred and fifty three.”

“Right again, Robert.”

“And what is 98235 multiplied by 73268 and divided by 6482?”

“1,110,652”, Bobby said.

Never in his life had Uhlman experienced what had just transpired. “How do you figure these things out in your head so quickly?”

“The answers just come to me, Doctor.”

“Do you like to do this kind of thing?”

“Not really. It’s kind of boring. I like to do real problem solving—you know, where you have to think a lot and figure something out.”

The calculations that Bobby had just done in his head were amazing, but Uhlman knew that they in themselves were not proof of profound intelligence. Throughout history, there were examples of certain people who had an astounding ability to do highly complex number calculations in their heads within seconds. In fact, some of these individuals were autistic or had various types of learning disabilities, or were what are commonly referred to as “idiot savants.” But what was unusual from a historical perspective, was that Bobby had this staggering calculating ability in addition to all of the other indicia of extraordinary intelligence that were documented in the reports of Draper, Knoll and Massey.

Uhlman then administered tests that were designed to measure a person’s capacity to reason abstractly in mathematics, logic, spatial relationships and linguistics. Uhlman started with exams designed for eight year olds and worked his way up to exams that were given in educational research labs to graduate students at MIT. Bobby’s mind danced through it all and he wasn’t even straining. His energy level was prodigious. He didn’t tire. His ingenuity and accuracy were uncanny. Uhlman had never witnessed comparable powers of focus and concentration. By the time 4:30 came and Peter and Edith arrived at Uhlman’s office to pick-up Bobby, Uhlman was exhausted.

“Are you okay, doctor?” Peter asked.

“Just a bit tired. It was an eventful day. You’ve got quite a boy here.”

“See you tomorrow, Doctor. Think up some good ones for me,” said Bobby cheerfully.

The next day, Uhlman had three of his colleagues join him. He and his crew had compiled a regime of eight different types of intelligence tests including the Stanford Benet Form L-M, the Stanford Benet Version SB-5, the Wechsler WISC SB-IV, and five other exams that were proprietary to the Mayo Clinic that had been especially designed by Uhlman and his staff over a period of years for the purpose of distinguishing among different cognitive levels of the highly gifted. Unlike many IQ tests, these were aimed at measuring abstract and theoretical reasoning abilities and the capacity to rapidly absorb, process and integrate complex concepts. The time period allotted for completion of the eight exams was six hours of total exam time, divided into three sections of two hours each, with a thirty minute break between sections. Bobby finished all eight exams in two and a half hours. Uhlman had never seen anyone read and process complicated directions and questions so quickly. It was as if he were scanning the pages. What Uhlman began to realize was that just as classical music geniuses were capable of running as many as six or seven different complex melody lines in their heads simultaneously and plotting their development and interaction at the same time, Bobby could do this with reasoning problems.

At lunch, Uhlman asked Bobby, “So how do you like these games we’re playing so far?”

“Better today than yesterday, Doctor. More interesting, but a lot of it is pretty obvious stuff. I guess you just want to be sure I can read directions accurately.”

“Well, okay then. What’s something interesting that you did recently?”

“A few months ago, I devised a new table of logarithms using a base of twelve instead of the normal ten. I thought that was fun,” replied Bobby.

“You did that by yourself?”

“Yeah, I’ll show it to you later if you want.”

“Good, I’d like that. I never heard of anyone doing that,” said Uhlman. “Have you ever done anything with the binary system?”

“Sure. I worked 2 to the 80th power. I used my blackboard. When it would fill up, I’d erase it and keep the figures in my head and start filling up the board again.”

“How long did that take?” Uhlman asked.

“About an hour.”

When Uhlman called an early end to the third day’s events, Bobby jumped up and down like he was on a pogo stick. Peter and Edith picked him up at 2:30 and the Austin family headed off to see the sites of Rochester. Uhlman then corralled the senior members of his department for a strategy session.

“Here’s what I want to do now with the Austin boy. He hasn’t studied—and by that I mean taught himself—mathematics beyond advanced algebra and trigonometry. Jesus Christ, that sounds crazy, doesn’t it? Anyway, tomorrow, I want to see if he can somehow solve problems that require knowledge of calculus, number theory, combinatorics and set theory. I think it’s impossible, but I have to find out.”

One of Uhlman’s staff responded, “Doctor, it’s not possible—-that’s why those mathematical disciplines were invented. They’re the only way to solve those kind of problems.”

“Compile a test. I need 20 problems to give Austin tomorrow.”

The following day, Uhlman sat with Bobby and said, “Robert, I know you like challenging games so I have 20 of them here. They’re tough ones and you’ll have to use a lot of ingenuity to figure them out. I want you to take your time, don’t rush, and don’t get discouraged.” Uhlman passed the exam over to Bobby and then walked to the other side of the room and sat down to observe.

“Doctor, is there a blackboard I can use?”

Uhlman went into an adjoining room, found a blackboard, and wheeled it in to the room Bobby was in. He adjusted the legs so that the board was as low as it could go. Bobby stared at the page of questions. Uhlman walked over to Bobby and saw that the boy appeared to be transfixed, his eyes half closed. This trance like state continued for thirty minutes until Bobby grabbed the exam paper and walked over to the blackboard. He wrote #1 and underlined it. Then he began to quickly fill the board with numbers, diagrams and equations, none of which Uhlman could follow. To Uhlman, it all seemed disjointed and fragmented. Bobby worked at an intense pace. As the blackboard became too crowded with Bobby’s notations, Bobby would erase what he had scribbled, and he’d fill the board again. Finally, he triumphantly circled something on the blackboard, put a check mark next to it and then copied the circled item on to the test paper as the answer to problem #1.

This same process continued uninterrupted for three hours as Bobby gradually worked his way through the 20 problems. Uhlman had no idea what Bobby was doing and whether or not the test answers would be correct, but he was astounded by the process and by Bobby’s indefatigable energy level and ability to concentrate. Finally, Uhlman interrupted Bobby and said, “Let’s take a lunch break. You must be tired.”

“No Doctor, I’m not. And I really don’t want to break now. I’m in the middle of this.”

Four more hours went by. Bobby had filled and erased the blackboard fifty-five times. As Bobby worked, Uhlman photographed the notations on the blackboard each time before it was erased. Finally, Bobby wrote his answer to the last problem, number twenty, on the exam sheet and handed it to Uhlman.

“Here it is, Doctor. Now, those questions were really interesting. Is it too late to get something to eat?”

Uhlman tousled Bobby’s hair, and then picked him up in his big arms. Holding him as they walked, he said, “No it’s not too late, little fella. You’re quite a guy.”

Bobby’s face flushed. “What did you just call me? You called me a name. What was it?”

“I called you ‘little fella.’” Bobby’s brow furrowed and he fell silent for a few minutes.

As they headed to the building’s cafeteria, Uhlman gave the exam paper to his assistant. Bobby selected a grilled cheese sandwich, apple juice and cherry Jello with whipped cream. Uhlman poured his fifth cup of coffee for the day.

“So, Robert, why don’t you like to sleep?”

“I often have very bad dreams.”

“What kind of dreams?”

“Very scary dreams. They’re horrible.”

“What happens in these dreams?”

Bobby squirmed in his chair as he looked down at the floor. “I don’t remember them in detail, but often I’m being chased in the dark. Then I fall and I continue to fall endlessly. And there are terrible odors. And people are screaming. And horrible faces are up against me.” Uhlman noticed that Bobby was gripping his spoon so tightly that his knuckles were white.

“Oh, that’s all? I have dreams like that every night, Robert. Don’t let that bother you—-that’s nothing. I thought you had really bad dreams.” Uhlman laughed, and then Bobby did too.

As Uhlman was returning to his office with Bobby for Peter and Edith’s pick-up, he was intercepted by one of his department heads.

“John, can I see you for a moment alone, please?”

Uhlman turned to Bobby and said, “Robert, you know where to go—through that door and you’ll see your parents in my office. I’ll be right there.”

“What’s up, Bill?” asked Uhlman.

“The twenty questions on the exam. He got them all correct.”

“I want a meeting with full staff in one hour. Tell everyone it’s going to be a late night,” said Uhlman.

7

T
he next morning at 8:30, Uhlman called Orin Varneys.

“Orin, I think we’ve hit the mother lode,” Uhlman said.

“What do you mean?”

“The Austin boy. I’ve never seen anything like it. He makes the kids at the Institute look like they’re retarded. I don’t think there’s ever been someone like this.”

“This could be what we’ve been waiting for,” said Varneys.

“He’s not even five years old yet. All of his growth is ahead of him. There’s no telling what he’ll be capable of,” said Uhlman.

“What’s the kid’s IQ?”

“I had the whole department work on it for days and we used computer extrapolations, but it doesn’t get us anywhere. We can’t get any kind of accurate figure. There’s nothing to compare him to. So it’s just a guess. But if you have to have a number, I’d say a minimum—and I stress the word –minimum—of 550.”

“That’s impossible. The highest ever on record—and that was presumed exaggerated—was 300.”

“That’s what I’m telling you, we’re dealing with a first here,” replied Uhlman.

“Is there any downside that you can see?”

“He suffers from very intense recurrent nightmares. That’s unusual in a child of his age. I’ve also witnessed him withdraw into a prolonged semi-conscious state which could be indicative of a proclivity to reality detachment.”

“Nightmares. What’s he afraid of?” asked Varneys.

“It’s hard to pinpoint, but he exhibits paranoid characteristics. All in all, he may be in the early stages of psychosis or dementia. It’s way too early to tell. It depends on how he develops. But a mind that powerful can not only create. It can also destroy.”

“Destroy what?” asked Varneys.

“Destroy himself,” replied Uhlman.

“When are you going to speak to the parents?”

“In about an hour. We have a meeting scheduled.”

“John, we can’t let this one get away. Make this happen.”

Right on schedule, Peter and Edith walked into Uhlman’s reception area at 10:00 Friday morning for their “summation” meeting with him. Ray McDermott was taking Bobby around town to explore Rochester. It had been a pleasant holiday for them, staying in the luxurious hotel suite, ordering room service, watching the latest movies on “pay per view,” and eating at the nicest restaurants in the city.

“Well, where should I begin?” said Uhlman, folding his large hands and leaning forward in his chair. My staff and I subjected Robert to a battery of examinations, which were beyond rigorous. I would say unprecedented. And let me say that Robert was patient, polite, cooperative and in excellent humor throughout the process. He’s a real trooper, your boy. A delightful child.”