"We are in agreement. You should look at the options more," Gary concludes. He stamps out the oncoming argument.
"What do you do for the government, anyway, Sarah?"
"I'm in truth verification. After a suspect's conviction, they undergo a memory wipe. I make sure they truthfully utter what they remember during memory reconstruction," Sarah answers.
"That makes some sense, if you think about it. Memories can't be truly erased. The pathways connecting with the stored info are just cutoff. The reconstruction helps connect the damaged paths," Gary adds. The dialogue livens up as the eating reaches an end.
"I think career lawbreakers are still able to hide some info. My job is to prevent it," truth verification specialist says.
"You have a consuming job."
"It's more routine than you might think.”
The waiter comes by, takes our empty plates, leaves behind the bill, and a small dish. Each of us takes a handful of the mixture inside, fennel seed mixed with small candies. It replaces all the tastes in my mouth with something refreshing and floral.
We collectively pass the bill around. Each person pays with collected meals. I get 3.2 meals per day. I've plenty to pay 1.5 meals for a dinner out.
"Is it okay for me to jet? It has been fun, we should do this again sometime," Sanathy says.
"Me too." David squeezes Sarah’s shoulder and leaves with Sanathy.
"Hey guys. Do you mind if I pick your brains about something," The bureaucrat says to Gary and me.
"Sure," Gary says.
"Not a problem."
"I just have a quick question. Is it possible to check the success of a memory wipe?" Mulligan asks unmoving.
"As far as I know, it's possible. Why, are you having doubts?" Gary replies with his own question.
"The person I'm working with keeps hiding the truth. This is his first offense. It just shouldn't be happening," Sarah answers, looking away from us to the neighboring window.
"I can send you the details on how to check if the wipe worked. I'll also review the wipe methodology and see if it can be goofed up," Gary proposes placing his placid hands over the table.
"I have some questions for you, Sarah, if that is okay."
"Shoot." Resounds with a fragment of annoyance.
"I've been wondering about the wipe and recovery process. What is the purpose?"
"I think it has to do with wrongful conviction. It happens a miniscule percentage of the time, but when it does… pretty bad. First, a second innocent person is punished. Also, the real perpetrator receives the freedom to commit more acts," Mulligan replies matter-of-factly.
"If it is so useful, why is it done after conviction? Doing it before makes more sense."
"Going through the memory wipe is rigorous. It shouldn't be undertaken without exhausting all the other options first. As it turns out, most of the people in the program ask to enter," Sarah responds woefully.
"It is ingenious. You give an easy way to prove innocence. This lures convicts to prove their guilt, nearly always."
"Thanks for your time, Gary, Conor."
"See you around, Sarah."
"It was fun." Sarah flashes a smile.
Logistics
Tues 6/13/17 10:17 a.m.
Brain wave diagrams of each sleep stage appear grossly enlarged at my back. "Dreaming happens during all five stages of sleep. Until now, a complete record evaded the grasp of science. A scattered and truncated account establishes the majority of dream theory.
The limited record stems from interrupted sleep. Awakening during the dream phase triggers memory of the dream, usually accompanied by quick loss of detail. The intensity of dreams increase in deeper stages of sleep. The chance of waking up responds inversely."
A series of negative dreams we saw during our study comprises the next visual, all stills. "The REM sleep state was associated with negative dreams based on incomplete data. Prior studies infer about the dream state from ideas established in an awakened state. After sleep grogginess, tends to be the biggest promoter of these ideas.
Dreaming is known to have a measurable impact on other aspects of life."
(—)
"The dreams accumulate for a total of 30 days. Three AIs, my colleague, and I view each dream. Any available memory record enters our consensus. We arrive at an overall impression, positive or negative." Gary says.
The next picture is a chart showing all the data and a close up. "The study concludes that most REM dreams are positive overall. The percentage remembered tends to be skewed to the negative," Gary finishes.
We head off the stage, congratulating each other on a job well done and land in our seats as the next presentation gets started. How energy production methods vary in their sustainability? They modeled the two competing methods of energy creation: solar and nuclear fusion.
(—)
I rush around in a flurry eating up the remaining 10 minutes before the bus arrives. Rifling through my bags verifies if I have everything. One drawer needs empting, which I now shovel into my suitcase. I run out the door, lug along my suitcase, enter the elevator, and jog to the lobby. I meet up with Gary at the entrance just as the green bus pulls out.
Nothing ends up right. I struggled every step of the way, waking up already late. Tomorrow, my study subjects arrive. I can't let this happen. My thoughts circle back, too late.
Gary approaches with a worried forehead. "Are you doing okay?"
"I'm fine."
He smiles. "Don't worry about it. We can always just take a go-seat."
"I didn't think about that."
Gary calls up a go-seat with his tech, I repeat. Two roll out of the closet. A second leg drops, supporting the single big ball wheel. We load our luggage onto the hooks at the back. I climb up the seat with the handy step.
"Don't forget to set the destination and arrival time."
"Just about to do that." I enter the info. It shows a start button. I select go. A footrest swivels around to under my feet. The go-seat glides through the doorway. It grows taller and faster once on the road. The ride runs surprisingly smooth.
Gary comes up next to me. "How are you doing?"
"Still fine."
His seat swivels towards me. "Good to hear. You just had a dejected look on your face."
"Nothing was going right. Hopefully, things get better."
"I’m sure it will."
Before we know it, we reach the destination. We get off with all our baggage, scurry up the station steps — among a multitude of passengers — dropping off our bags and suitcases, board the train, and take a seat. The bad luck turned. Good. I read through the list of people joining my study and start scheduling times to do the subject prep.
Persuasion
Thurs 6/15/17 6:17 a.m.
I enter a room engulfed in white tile. Dark gray streams of concrete stand still solidified within the field, ripples and all. Four pictures adorn the entirety of four walls. One in a clear glass frame profiles a fjord revealing its depth and security. The one in the steel frame depicts a temperate rainforest abundant in tall trees and carpeted by lush fern undergrowth. A picture of a glacial lake framed with mountains stands at my back, dominating a light wood frame. The blue water enters the spider-webbed fissures and crevasses inherent to the white and blue bespectacled glacier. The last one presents a steep mountain top, the sheer cliffs allowing just a tenuous foothold for the resident snows. The frame consists of the igneous glass mineral, obsidian. In the center of the space, a reflective, metal, human-esque sculpture floats up. I go to it. Upon a touch, it transforms into a grey padded body suit. The intricate stitching featuring a zipper that moves down the side of the neck, runs over the shoulder, across the torso, and down one leg — both sides identical.
I slip the suit on, zip up the sleeves. It fits perfectly. My hand now shows a contorted reflection through to the floor below. The entire room alienates with a somber metallic sheen, and the pictures morph to perfect mirrors. I try to look at
myself, just to see the opposite wall. Moving closer and closer changes nothing. I reach out and see a ripple in the reflection. The truth of my invisibility dawns on me.
I know exactly what to do, merely walk out of the room. The insane ability — yet untapped — rushes the environs into a blurred frenzy. The scenery goes beyond any mortal feats of perception, somehow forcing a long forgotten sense to reinitiate. I intuit going out the door, turning right, walking up a flight of stairs, and stopping on the edge of the roof. We fly into a high jump off the roof, keeping our body narrow and straight, pleasing a new urge. The invisibility failing at downward speed necessitates swift accomplishment. I prepare to land kneeling, compressing as broaching ground impact. Rolling over face up, pounding the ground, throws me into standing. My quick reaction to every minutia occurs without thought. Circling a group of soldiers — all marked as friendly. Following the line in the sand, so to speak marking the path, avoiding any and all incognizant, running at an incredible speed into a two-story fence harboring spikes! Instinctively jumping right up, rolling tucked over the fence, I stand ready for anything.
Noticing a group in the distance, I sprint there. My arrival goes unnoticed by everyone there marked as targets. This receives a message to touch each target, depositing a piece of invisibility behind. The pearlescent mirrors shine in the near ubiquitous grey. A countdown sounds… one… two … three…the targets crumple into neat mounds all around.
At the epicenter of the carnage, there swirls a black cloud dropped out of the heavens. Shortly stabbing me by throwing a sword. Engaging the new target, my suit becomes a prickly defense and attack arsenal of spines. I enter the ominous black gas quagmire to perpetrate my continuing attack. My defense articles toss away a hastily thrown enemy sword, the first of an unrelenting black bolt barrage and other metal armament, with glimpses of a humanoid dripping in black ooze. One bolt penetrates my defenses. A surge of adrenaline jumps me away almost 100 yards, the black mysterious weapons system staying immobile at enemy camp. I withdraw my attack/defense scheme, my most powerful option requiring a high degree of precision jump onto the target. The jump is ready. Jumping as high as possible, everything grows small. The suit changes shape, directing me over the target. The invisibility flenses off to near me feet, the gray underlayment remains for my protection. I plunge into the high reaches of the dark cloud, then impact with the force of a small earthquake. The cloud disperses with the disintegration of the enemy.
Secured behind the invisibility barrier, a high pitch whine signals an intruder alert. A cold embrace runs up along with an associated numbing climbing through. A black film tarnishes the lustrous finish. I yell for help, no one there to hear my cries. Everything that is mine, my body, my thoughts, my feelings, ceases to exist. I gasp my last breath.
(—)
A loud sound startles me. I wake up, in my bed, Stephens Institute apartment. The sound emanated from flailing in my sleep. I managed to clear my coffee table with my thoughtless actions, and then my alarm went off, right on time. I look up through the skylight into the early morning twilight. The day marches forth through the gloomy cloud covered sky. I force myself up to face the day and get ready.
I eat breakfast at my sofa and table, while my thoughts wander to the location of the windows relative to everything else. The skylight and windows swaddle the sofa, now with the first hints of the suns warmth. Unbeknownst to me, I contrived keen design functionality, a few changes after moving in, mostly with the furniture and some with the architecture. The once tiny square window takes on a more organic shape by the addition of a staggered edge and surface area. The walls molded by square building blocks allow repurposing to any function. I have to go, now.
I leave my apartment. The tough night, tossing and turning for most of it ends here. At around 4, I finally got some sleep. The stress of making a life changing decision weighs heavily on my conscience. I have to make a choice in the next week, or the Agent will make good on his promise. Sometimes, I just want to make some choice and get this all over with. Something good finally happens, Claire walks by in a white suit. I catch up with ease. Everything starts returning to normal.
"Hi, Claire. How are you doing?" I notice she’s wearing a black tie over a navy shirt.
"Never mind me, what's on your mind after your long and difficult journey to faraway lands?"
"Not what you might think. I've been thinking about my college days."
"That is way more pedestrian than I would imagine. I'll go along with you for now. My strongest suit has always been my memory, long term that is. I used to think my intelligence wasn't big in the equation. This thought process entailed long hours toiling over a seemingly endless pile of assignments. Sometimes even rereading some part to get a better answer. The work eventually paid for itself. What about you?"
That was too much unneeded info about her intelligence. I feel obliged to do the same. "I did well. The best part has to be the social side. You know, spending time with friends outside of class. Academically, study groups saved my skin many times. Independent study didn't help that much, now group study was a totally different story."
"How is your study going?" Claire adjusts her messenger bag more securely over one shoulder. The need for a bag of any size seems unnecessary with all the pockets we both have.
"I'd say good. If you asked me yesterday, not so much."
"What changed?" This has her attention.
"Yesterday, I missed my ride, just by secs. It was so disappointing. I thought this. is. it. I won't make back in time. With Gary's help, I still made it."
"I had that issue a lot growing up. I somehow overcame it."
"How do you think that changed?"
"Maybe, being late prepared me to be on time.”
I chuckle at this line of reasoning.
“Do you ever get the feeling your whole life has been preparing for one ultimate goal?"
"I've never thought of it that way. It just seems like a haphazard process. By some chance everything turns out okay."
Claire reserves her rebuttal with a breath. "How was your trip otherwise?"
"The conference had some highlights. Other than that, not much to report. How was it around here?"
"Not much, I think enough happened last week to last a month, at least."
A brief glimpse of the marionette Irena assaults me.
Claire gives me a short wave and goes into the office.
A small group of people wait outside. I go to meet them, even though I have to get a few things before explaining the study to them, so I make my excuses. I go to my desk for the surveys. The conference room needed for the presentation sits across the hall. I get mentally prepared to go through all the material.
"I'm ready for you. Just come with me."
Leading them across the hallway into the expansive, bright, window lined room, I set the surveys on the side table, and go to the head of the room. As they enter the room, I think to give them directions. "As you come in, please take a pad from that table."
I put my pad on the conference table, establishing a connection with the presentation screen. The first image shows up with a title page, 'The Best Methods to Promote Learning'. Everyone has a seat and a pad in hand. "Let's get started then."
I give a sec for everyone to quiet down. "You are all here to participate in a study about learning. Let us first review the basis of learning, as it is understood. Currently, there are four forms of learning we know of. Long-term potentiation or LTP, positive reinforcement, fear conditioning, and adaptation. LTP utilizes a repeated action like memorization or practice to imprint something new into the mind. Long-term memories are produced this way. Adaptation relies on the brain’s need to maintain function. The brain works around obstacles like hearing loss. Fear conditioning and positive reinforcement — both specialized forms of LTP — work through the interface between the amygdala and hippocampus. Events that precipitate an emotional response stick better. Fear conditioning results in reflexive beha
vior, while positive reinforcement teaches. “Almost everyone is looking through the survey, not really listening.
The next picture glides in, a neural pathway. "The neuroscience explanation of LTP hinges on the production of two neurotransmitters. One having to do with the ability and the other glutamate. A repeated action stimulates the release of glutamate. It produces an excitatory effect on the neurons. The learned pathway stays open for a longer period of time. This helps the learned ability to stick by creating physical changes in downstream and upstream cells." The idea of a retrograde messenger fell down with improved electron microscopy. The electrical stimulation alone causes the changes.
The next series shows the methods I will test. As I talk about each one, its image becomes bigger. "The most innovative method we will test resides with selected neuron excitability.” This statement perks up the heads of almost everyone, and the wide eyed ones continue looking. “A modified piece of tech will physically affect the cells to reduce the threshold for stimulation. Unfortunately, this will include the addition of new tech. near the neurons. This is a tested procedure, that isn’t harmful in any way. We will also consider your baseline through a survey. It takes into account your aptitude for the subject and your current level of happiness. Other triggers will also be used. This study has additional participants from other research sites to give us a bigger sample."
The final picture is of a pleasant scene and the message 'Thanks for your Participation'. "If you want to continue being a part of this study, please start filling out your survey. If not, thanks for coming today. In a few minutes, I'll be ready for one of you. Just walk across the hall and through the door. At the end of the next hallway, I'll be waiting. I thank all of you, again."
I leave the room with my pad, go to the lab, and get everything ready. That includes the tech injection node, double checking the programming, and getting the lab chair prepped. I fill the empty injection node. Placing this white box on the loading shelf fills one chamber with tech. I also load an inert solution as a control.
Remember Page 16