be careful where you clique
Evening April 17, 1955 – Albert Einstein presents to the physician on call at Princeton Hospital complaining of chest pain. A large aneurysm in his aorta has just ruptured. He’s getting weak. He’ll be gone before morning. The 76 year old superfreak is deposited into a hospital bed, and begins slowly fading out. As the lights dim, his hard drive switches back to DOS German and the real gabbing begins. What was said? The secrets of the universe, the ultimate recipe for egg salad sandwiches… perhaps. The nurse on call that night just reported gabbing. She couldn’t tell a berliner from a jelly doughnut.
Upon his passing, the pathologist of the hospital, Thomas Stoltz Harvey, was called in to perform an autopsy. The good doctor may have shown a bit too much eagerness… he spent most of his time examining the skull. In fact, by the time it was all said and done and the body had been sent off to the crematorium, Dr. Harvey had made off with Albert’s brain. The hospital demanded its return. Harvey claimed the “finder’s keepers” rules of pathology upon which time he was fired.
Harvey kept the brain for a long while. He had it in a jar. He wanted to know if it was… special. It was. It had a higher glial cell to neuron ratio than most brains. It was also wide. Huh.