“I hear you have something of importance.” Dr. Ryberg, a neuron synthesis specialist took Al’s arm and walked towards the table with him. “Senator Humphries seems to be in a foul humor this morning—as usual. Some of his bills are having a bad time in the Congress. He’s not liable to be agreeable to anything you say, so I hope that you can trim it down to his brain’s size.”
“I’ll keep him here all day and pound it in with Jurgens’ gavel if I have to,” Al grinned. “He’s one that’s got to understand what I have to say.”
“Well, take pity on the rest of us and include us out if you have to lock horns with him,” grunted Ryberg.
Dr. Seymour Jurgens, white-haired and lean with age, had been a renowned cyberneticist in his youth. Now Chairman of the Board of the Cybernetics Institute, he rose, tapping gently for attention.
“This special meeting of the Board of Directors of the Institute of Cybernetics has been called at the request of our Engineering Advisor, Dr. Albert Demming. There is no other business. We will therefore give Dr. Demming the floor at once.”
Al rose from his chair and surveyed the group of men. Twenty-six of them. As a group, they formed the most powerful policy-making body outside of the Congress.
Individually they weren’t impressive, Al thought. In any other circumstances they would have been poor adversaries. But here they wielded power delegated by the Welfare State—power he questioned their wisdom to use.
Drs. Jurgens, Ryberg, Benson—he had counted on their understanding, their backing. Had each of them, in secrecy and fear, nullified his own contract that allowed use of his brain for cybernetic purposes after death? He wondered how these great men had looked and felt as they wrote out their cancellations.
“In something over five hundred years of time,” said Al slowly, “the science of cybernetics has been born out of the rebellion against one extremity of thought. It has plunged through a long swing of development and technology and now, at last, has arrived at the end of the first half cycle of its history—at the opposite pole of thought from that in which it originated.
“When the stirrings of cybernetics first appeared, the dominant thought in biology was that of the vitalists, who considered biological principles completely beyond the research attack of the physical sciences. The principles of biology were axioms, not requiring explanation in terms of physics or chemistry and wholly beyond analytical study.
“Today, at the other end of the pendulum’s swing, there are no biological axioms. In cybernetics we have reached the last outpost in our knowledge of the human brain. We have mapped it down to the last neuron. We can literally tap any of its billions of cells and discover the forces at work.”
His fellow cyberneticists listened with attention, following his buildup that they might evaluate the points to follow.
But the governmental representatives stirred uneasily.
Senator Humphries, the Congressional Section Chairman, said brusquely, “We are well aware of these things. Is it not possible to come more directly to the issue if you have anything new to present?”
“At once, Senator,” said Al evenly. “I present for your consideration that we have adopted many unwarranted assumptions in our haste to reach the end of the pendulum’s swing.
“We have, for example, failed utterly to pursue the question of what organic factors constitute the phenomenon of life. We can map and duplicate the physical and chemical phenomena involved in the many neurons of the human brain. But we can in no way distinguish the presence or absence of life in the human organism except by gross manifestations of activity or of disintegration on the part of the organs themselves.
“We can declare an organism ‘dead’ but we cam easily demonstrate the presence of ‘live’ cells for long periods afterwards. We know that in cybernetic engineering it is of utmost importance, to feed and renew the neurons of the brain before gross disintegration sets in. We say that the cells remain ‘alive’ but that the organism itself is ‘dead.’ And we prove our thesis by the many attempts to revive the entire organism.
“In all this, however, we have failed utterly to define life or underline its requirements.
“One of the phenomena of cybernetic engineering presents a challenge we can ignore no longer. I refer to the adjustment collapse, so called. In at least ninety-five per cent of our installations there is a period of total collapse of function following the initial visual stimulus. I have collected over fifteen hundred electroencephalographs of brains during this collapse period. Their study permits only one conclusion.
“The collapse is not a phenomenon of brain cells that are being manipulated by electric impulses like dead muscle tissue. It is a phenomenon that could take place only in a living organism!”
He watched their faces and there was—nothing. They registered no shock from his statement. They knew, he thought, and they did not comprehend.
Words were not enough. He should have found some way to show them the pain, the agony of abandonment and desolation of the cybernetic victims.
Senator Humphries and his colleagues appeared mildly insulted. Dr. Jurgens seemed disturbed in a way that Al could not understand. The scientist was looking from side to side, eyeing his companions, never once looking directly at Al.
All around the table there was perplexity, uneasy concern, but nowhere the shock of horror that he had hoped his pronouncement would bring. No recognition of the immensity of the thing that he had uttered.
He slapped the table harshly. “Gentlemen, do you understand what that means? Two million men and women—living, thinking, tortured by despair, sentenced to an eternal slavery in the hearts of our machines!
These cybernetic brains are not mere pieces of discarded flesh. They remain human beings.”
He might have spoken to wooden images. Their silence frightened him. No one spoke. He tried to catch Ryberg’s eye, challenging him to comment, but his fellow scientist only looked down at the bare yellow table. There was only a faint shifting of feet, the shuffling of paper, the uneasy glances at each other.
“Gentlemen, in the name of humanity we must abandon this practise of cybernetic brain control. Beginning now we must renounce all contracts that the Institute holds and begin a program of electronic controls to replace our present ones. We must take steps to establish communication with all those we have imprisoned and give them death, if they wish it, or life under the best circumstances we can provide.”
There was movement now. It was as if they had been waiting for the solution he had to offer.
Dr. Jurgens spoke first. “You would utterly abandon cybernetic brain control and research in the face of this evidence you have uncovered?”
“They are useless as controls if they are actually ‘dead.’ And we have no right continue imposing such slavery—even upon those who would have been irretrievably dead except for our work.”
“Has it occurred to you that this unasked extension of life might not be unwelcome? Are you so sure they are not grateful for it?”
Al nodded slowly. “I’m very sure. Is there a single one of you who would welcome extension of life under such conditions? Is there one of you who would welcome the knowledge that he was blind, deaf, mute, utterly removed from human companionship for an uncertain eternity?”
He glanced about the circle of tight faces. “I see no response of great joy. You can all share such eternal bliss, you know. You have only to make a contract with the Institute of Cybernetics and make sure of near-eternity—in hell! How many have taken advantage of this wonderful opportunity? You, Senator? Doctor Jurgens?
“I still see no response. Perhaps you don’t believe what I have said. Perhaps you don’t believe these people still live. But, if so, I wonder how many of your contracts the Institute holds. At one time all but five of you had made contracts. I find now that every one has been cancelled. Why?”
Suddenly, he knew he was right. He understood the side glances, the uneasy countenances.
“You have
known the truth of this for a long time! Your own researches suggested it long before my confirmation. Is that not true, Dr. Jurgens?”
The Chairman nodded slowly. “You probably observed the date of cancellation on our contracts. That was when we became convinced of it.”
Al looked from one to the other. “I can’t understand,” he said, “why you have done nothing about this. Are you such monsters that you would willingly condemn endless thousands to cybernetic imprisonment while assuring your own escape from it?”
“Perhaps we are monsters,” said Dr. Jurgens slowly. “We have wrestled long with our own souls—those of us who still have souls,” he added with a wry glance in the direction of Senator Humphries. “We have come to a studied conclusion, however, that cybernetic brain control must go on. There are arguments for and against our decision—”
“What possible arguments are there for such a decision?” Al demanded in fury. “My sister is one of those you have entombed! Give me one argument!”
“We have a world to consider,” said Jurgens slowly, “I’ll let Dr. Armish show you what would happen to that world if we used your solution.”
AL turned his head sharply. The economist was a man whose insides he could hate with pleasure.
The bland goateed face of Dr. Armish seemed unperturbed. “A major collapse of our economy would be the immediate result of the rash proposal. It would risk the entire concept of the Welfare State. Civilization as we know it could never survive a return to the concept of physical earnings based upon direct human performance. That is what your proposal would mean.
“You are certainly not unaware of how close to breakdown the Welfare State approached just before the inauguration of cybernetic brain control. It cannot be adequately replaced by electronic control. As an engineer you are more aware of that than I. And we can compromise with nothing that threatens the Welfare State. It is the most sublime political and economic structure ever devised by the mind of man.
“The subsidy as an inalienable right is deeply ingrained in the philosophy of man. To compromise it would be a return to the jungle, a return to the brutal competitive warfare of ancient economics. The insurance against such a return is well worth the sacrifice of the two million about whom you are so concerned.
“And may I add that you have offered nothing but supposition? You have not established communication with any of these control brains. You have only guessed at feelings they might or might not have. You do not know.”
“They are human beings,” said Al. “Is it difficult to extrapolate their reactions in such circumstances?”
“You have offered only surmises,” Armish repeated smugly.
Senator Humphries spoke. “We in government,” he said ponderously, “have always marveled at the naiveté of you engineers and scientists upon whom we have so long been dependent. You pride yourselves upon your reasoning abilities, your great competence in reaching the abstract from a consideration of a few concrete realities.
“I have consistently failed to detect such powers. Here we have your proposal that we abandon cybernetic brain control in favor of a proven archaic system, and you give no further thought as to the political impact upon the world.
“Cybernetics is the life blood of the world. Without it, the flow of goods and foodstuffs would cease instantly. The masses would rise against all organized government in a wave that could not be controlled. No, my simple friend, your solution is so utterly fantastic in the light of realities. What would become of civilization and man if we were suddenly without the blessings of cybernetics?”
“Man might be forced off his lazy fat end and put to work,” said Al.
Dr. Jurgens drew his attention. His voice spoke with finality as if the conference were nearing its close. “This information, which we have discussed, can never be permitted to leave this room, Dr. Demming. Our decision has been reached after mature consideration of the factors on both sides. Cybernetic brain control must go on.
“Though we suspected these facts as long as three years ago we did not take you into our confidence because we felt your reaction would be as it has been and we needed and still need your services. Therefore it is imperative that you join us in our determination, that you give us your word of secrecy and submit to such procedures as will insure it will not be broken.”
“I’ll shout what I know on every street corner in the world,” said Al. “We’ll see what will happen when men find out what is happening to their loved ones. We’ll test the political sophistication of the relatives of those already entombed. Perhaps I will find myself in very numerous company, Senator!”
“I believe you would do it,” said Dr. Jurgens sadly. “I’m sure you would, Al.”
Then he nodded suddenly as if to someone behind and beyond Al. The engineer hesitated a moment in puzzlement. Then he whirled—too slowly.
There were three sharp reports, very faint and so close together as to be almost one. The slugs ripped into his back and tore his heart to pieces. The force of them slammed him forward onto the table where the widening red pool of his blood spread out against the yellow surface.
In the fraction of an instant before he died he raised himself jerkily, his eyes locked with Dr. Jurgens’. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought the scientist murmured, “I’m sorry, Al—sorry it had to be this way.”
CHAPTER V
Creation
ESCAPE. The word and the hope tormented through sleepless, endless days and nights.
Escape. A mocking fantasy in that silent world where the only vision was the maddening sight of the indicators.
For two days John had been a part of the machine. The impressed directions were terrifying at first. They poured like an invading swarm from the tape readers to his brain. But there had been no pain. After the first fear it seemed more like some tantalizing melody that cannot be forgotten. Neuron chains within his brain passed those instructions on to the thousands of control points in the great plant.
It brought a new and greater dread. He sensed the time could come when every neuron chain would be commandeered by these unbidden pulses. His own area of thought would be driven into ever narrowing areas until only a tiny swarm of cells would remain in which he could carry the memory of his name, the agony of his entombment—and the image of Martha.
He feared the nightmare invasion would wholly suffocate and jam his own initiative. At the same time it fascinated him to examine those pulses that went to all the vast machinery of the plant, controlling flow of chemicals in a thousand channels, regulating temperatures, and rectifying error through the complex feedback circuits formed from his own neuron chains.
And Al had not come back.
There had been no word from Martha’s brother since that first hurried message ten days before. Since then John had glimpsed other engineers in his field of vision. Some of them he recognized from brief introduction through Al.
Their presence meant Al had been replaced, he thought. Or it could mean that they had been brought in for assistance in some unusual difficulties on this massive installation. But Al would have come back if he were still on the job.
The sense of increased power and well-being continued in John’s mind, but the loneliness stayed. With Al’s continuing absence it grew and made him sick with dread abandonment. He longed to know the fate of Martha. He could only believe that harm had befallen Al.
He forced himself to abandon the hope that Al might find a way to freedom for him. He faced the loneliness again and thought of long years to come. And always the stream of control impulses throbbed in his brain, a ceaseless melody to which he could not close his senses.
As he listened to it a new and frightening thought came into his mind. He need not be a slave to this thing, he thought. He was still in command of his brain and its facilities. He could even block those pulses passing through his cells. He knew he could.
He could twist and distort those instructions until the plant became one huge and chaotic mass, a volc
anic inferno of boiling, consuming chemical terror. By careful synthesis he could make a vast horror that would wipe out the countryside for miles around. That at least could be his vengeance.
But it could not give him escape—as if the word had meaning for such as he.
Why it was possible for him and had never been done by others he did not know. He only knew that power to control the things in his command was within his volition. He pondered—and left the flow of intelligence untouched.
Synthesis? If he exerted control what complex creations could be produced? No single chemist had ever had such a colossal laboratory under his lone command.
What could he make? What did he need? Eyes and ears for himself? A mouth with which to speak and hands to fight and build!
It was no use, he thought with resignation. Even absolute control of this vast plant would give him nothing. There was no way to gain a voice, to hear Martha speak his name, to look upon her tender image once again.
He cut off the thought abruptly. He held it tight lest something vital escape and never be found again. What was it he had considered? The things he could make—eyes and ears—a mouth and hands?
A sense of chill swept through his brain. Was it within the bounds of possibility? Could he somehow mould a thing by which he could see, by which he might hear and be heard—by which he might leave this inhuman bondage?
It was possible.
He allowed that whisper of thought to enter his consciousness. He held it there like some strange and precious jewel, turning it slowly, examining each facet with all the knowledge at his command.
PROTEIN synthesis was the mainstay of General Biotics. With it he could build cells—cells that could be kept in a semblance of life for days by irradiation. He knew that technique. It was common. But it was not enough. To build, those cells into organs, to multiply them, join them, give them function—he despaired before the titanic enterprise his brain had conceived.
The Cybernetic Brains Page 4