Kira frowned. “I thought so too before the experiments. Now I realize it’s more of a natural outgrowth of enhanced intelligence than a side effect of the re-wiring.”
“How so?”
“The concepts are quite complicated. To be honest, when my intelligence is at normal levels, they’re beyond me. But I’ll do my best to give you the gist of it.” She gathered her thoughts and exhaled loudly. “Let me start at the very beginning. When our ancient relatives first arrived on the scene, they weren’t the king of the hill. Far from it. They barely managed to stay on the hill. Pre-humans were just one of thousands and thousands of species battling for a tiny niche on a planet teaming with life. If you were a betting man, we were a million-to-one underdog to survive, let alone climb to the top of the food chain. No armor. No speed. No physical weapons.”
“But then intelligence came along,” said Desh.
“That’s right. The polar bear could survive just fine without it. But we desperately needed it. Intelligence was the only way out for our ancestors, and they achieved it just in time.” She paused and eyed Desh meaningfully. “And intelligence in survival terms means cunning, utter ruthlessness, and utter selfishness.” She raised her eyebrows. “What you might consider sociopathic behavior in its primal form.”
Desh reflected on what he had seen of the underbelly of human behavior during his time with Delta Force. He had seen things that would make a veteran pathologist vomit. Decapitations and other unspeakable tortures—displays of cruelty that defied the imagination. Without question, violence and brutality—and bloodlust—were intrinsic to human nature. Scratch any century throughout recorded history and staggering displays of cruelty came gushing out: the slaughter of helpless innocents on a massive scale, brutal wars, enslavements, tortures, mass rapes and murders, and other atrocities far too numerous to ignore. Hitler was just one example in a seemingly endless parade. Humanity could wrap itself in the cloak of civilization and pretend this side of its nature didn’t exist, but the hostility and savagery that drove the most dangerous predator on the planet to the top of the food chain was always seething, just below the surface.
“To survive,” continued Kira, “Homo sapiens evolved intelligence, and a ruthlessness and selfishness hardwired into our genes. That’s one side of the equation.” She paused. “But a cunning and ruthless intelligence alone wasn’t enough. Along with intelligence we had to use teamwork to bring down the mastodon. And our brains were so complex they still needed to develop long after birth. Human infants were helpless for far longer than any other animal on Earth. So our selfishness had to be tempered. We had to evolve some sense of teamwork and fair play. We had to sacrifice for our children and put the clan’s survival above our own.”
Desh was totally drawn into the conversation intellectually now, temporarily forgetting to remain suspicious of Kira’s every word and action.
“So those who were only selfish,” she continued, “died out in the long run. Those who were wired to be totally ruthless, but could also cooperate and work in a pack, survived to have offspring. To this day, a delicate balance of pure selfishness in some respects and pure selflessness in others is hardwired into our genes. For the sake of discussion, let’s use extremes. Call this selfishness sociopathy. Call this selflessness altruism.”
“So you believe there is such a thing as altruism? That Abraham Lincoln got it wrong?”
Kira Miller titled her head, intrigued, and gazed at Desh approvingly, impressed that he was familiar with the apocryphal story attributed to Abraham Lincoln.
In the story, Lincoln was traveling on a train and discussing human nature with a fellow passenger. The passenger insisted that such a thing as altruism existed, whereas Lincoln maintained with great vigor that all human acts were purely selfish. During the discussion, Lincoln noticed a baby goat lying across the tracks far ahead. He immediately called for the train to stop, got out, and gently lifted the goat off the tracks. The train started up again and the passenger said, “Why Abe, you just proved my point. You just committed a totally selfless act.” To which Abe replied, “Quite the contrary. I just proved my point. The act was totally selfish.” The passenger was confused. “How so?” he asked. To which Lincoln replied, “If I would have done nothing to save that poor animal, I would have felt just awful.”
Kira’s eyes sparkled as she considered her response. “Insightful question,” she said. “For what it’s worth, I actually think Lincoln was right. But for the sake of this discussion, this is more semantics than anything. Altruistic behavior exists and is hardwired into our genes. Whether it is merely another facet of selfishness isn’t germane to my point.”
Desh raised his eyebrows. “Which is?”
“Which is that this delicate balance between the competing poles of sociopathy and altruism can be shifted in one direction or another very readily. Granted, some people are born with a strong genetic predisposition one way or the other, but most of us are balanced on a razor’s edge. An average man who is the recipient of acts of caring and kindness will often perform charitable acts in return. This same man, given a slight push the other way, will pursue his self-interests even at the expense of others—even at the suffering of his own friends and family. In order to ensure that civilization can exist, that the scales are slightly tipped toward altruism, human intelligence had to invent religion.”
Desh frowned. “Invent religion?”
“That’s right. There have been thousands of different religions through time. And the followers of each of these religions believe that their founders received the divine answer, and that the religious mythology of all other religions is delusional. Almost everyone agrees that all the other religions were invented by man, just not the particular one into which they were born.”
Desh decided not to argue the point. “Go on,” he said.
“Most religions subscribe to the belief that there is something bigger than us out there,” continued Kira. “That there is some purpose to human suffering. That there is a form of continued existence after death. All of this helps to bolster the altruistic side of the human equation. Why not be totally selfish?—especially now that we don’t really need clans to survive: we can take down the mastodon alone. The answer: because there will be a reward or punishment in the next life.” She paused and shook her head. “But what if you knew with absolute certainty that when you died, that was it? There was no afterlife of any kind. Why not be totally selfish? With no God, what is the point to anything? There is no right and wrong: there is only doing what will make you happy. You have a short time to be alive—why not maximize the experience? To hell with anyone else.”
Desh looked thoughtful. “Because even if you believed there was no afterlife, altruism is still wired in. That was Lincoln’s point: altruism provides its own reward. Being good makes people feel good.”
“Excellent,” she said. “This is true. So a certainty that there is no afterlife doesn’t necessarily imply that pure sociopathy reigns. It isn’t perfectly straightforward. But it’s definitely a step down that path.” She paused. “And our society does have laws. So even if you reasoned that nothing really mattered, that good and evil were relative, and were determined to be completely selfish, you would have to perform a risk-reward analysis. Why not steal that luxury car that you love? One reason is that if you get caught, you’ll go to jail. There are risks that your selfish act would lead to a worse existence rather than a better one.”
Desh’s eyes narrowed. “Unless you had absolute power,” he noted.
Kira nodded. “Exactly. I won’t resort to the overused cliche, but if you didn’t believe in the afterlife and could get away with doing anything you wanted, sociopathic behavior would become more and more likely.”
“So that’s the connection,” guessed Desh. “In your enhanced state you feel that you can do whatever you want.”
“Exactly. With intelligence this great, you can’t help but feel superior and almost invincible. And you reall
y could get away with almost anything. At the same time, you clearly see the stark reality. There is no God. There is no afterlife.”
Desh bristled at this pronouncement. “Why would increased intelligence necessarily make you an atheist?” he challenged.
“The change in brain architecture transforms you into a purely intellectual creature. There is no longer room for faith, something you have to have to sustain a belief in God and the afterlife.”
“So how does your enhanced intellect grapple with the question of how the universe came to be? It surely must have been created, which implies a creator.”
“I can’t come close to understanding my thinking on this subject while in the transformed state. What I do know is that when I’m enhanced, I’m absolutely convinced that God does not exist.” She paused. “You asked me who created the universe. Let me ask you this: who created God?”
Desh frowned. “God is eternal. He didn’t need a creator.”
“Really?” said Kira. “Then why does the universe need one? If God can exist without a creator, why can’t the universe? No matter how you slice it, at some point you get to something that existed without being created. Which is impossible for even an enhanced mind to fully comprehend. Conjuring up a God to explain creation is just a convenient cheat unless you’re prepared to explain how God originated.” She paused. “And even if you accepted God for the sake of argument, why would an omniscient, omnipotent being waste his time creating humanity? The more intellect you bring to bear on the question, with faith out of the picture, the more certain you become that God is just a construct of the human mind, nothing more.”
Desh shook his head in irritation and disagreement but didn’t argue further. “So enhanced intelligence alters the balance of power in the altruism versus sociopathy war.”
Kira nodded. “It takes very little reasoning in this state to justify any selfish act I can contemplate. If someone is in my way—killing them makes perfect intellectual sense. What does it matter if they die now or in thirty years? Either way, existence is meaningless. God is dead. Why shouldn’t I do what is needed to achieve my potential?” She raised her eyebrows. “Remind you of anything?” she asked pointedly.
Desh had minored in philosophy in college, as Kira was no doubt aware from her study of him. He looked troubled. “Friedrich Nietzsche’s will to power,” said Desh unhappily. Nietzsche had glorified the concept of a superman. Not the Clark Kent variety, but a man whose sense of good and evil was based solely on what would help him succeed or fail. Good was anything that would help him achieve his potential. Evil was anything that would hamper him. What is good? All that heightens the feeling of power in man, the will to power, power itself. What is bad? All that is born of weakness.
Kira frowned. “I’m afraid so,” she confirmed. “In the enhanced state, as soon as you contemplate any of the eternal questions, you quickly reinvent this school of philosophy before taking it to a level of sophistication that the world’s greatest philosophers couldn’t possibly comprehend.”
There was a long silence in the room.
“But you said you haven’t acted on any of these sociopathic tendencies,” said Desh finally. “Is that right?”
“So far, no,” she said gravely. “My inherent sense of altruism and fair play has been strong enough—barely—to prevent me from acting on these impulses. But they’re quite strong,” she admitted. “It’s been tempting to let go of my last bit of pesky Neanderthal wiring and release myself from all moral and ethical bonds,” she said, a deeply troubled look on her face. “Very tempting.”
Desh was unsure of just how to respond to this.
“I haven’t enhanced myself for some time now,” she continued softly.
“Afraid the pull will become too strong for you to resist?” said Desh
She nodded. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly in a humorless smile. “Sometimes I think of myself as Frodo in the Lord of The Rings. In my case the ring’s power is that of almost inconceivable creativity and intellect. But like Frodo’s burden it is easily accessible, right there around my neck at all times, exerting its magnetic pull. The temptation to use it, especially when I’m desperately in need of some insight, is almost irresistible.”
Desh considered. He had never really thought about the ring from the Tolkien trilogy as yet another manifestation of the old cliche regarding power, but of course it was. The ring didn’t turn its wearer evil; the power inherent in the ring did this. “Power corrupts,” he began, unable to stop himself from reciting the cliche Kira had avoided using. “Absolute power corrupts abso—”
Desh never finished his sentence. With a sound like a shotgun blast the door to the room exploded inward, propelled by vicious, simultaneous kicks expertly applied by two men on the other side.
14
Desh’s head jerked violently from the startling intrusion, and his arms were nearly yanked from their sockets as he instinctively tried to assume a defensive posture: his startle reflex not caring that his arms were immobilized behind his back. Along with the thunderous sound of the door crashing in, the room was instantly plunged into impenetrable darkness as the rope Kira had attached to the door handle yanked the lamp cord violently from the wall outlet.
The momentum from the intruders’ explosive kicks propelled them into the room, guns drawn, and they hit the trip wire instantly, about the same time their brains registered that they were now blind. With two surprised grunts, followed immediately by two loud thuds, they crashed to the floor only seconds after their attack had begun.
They had counted on a precision surprise attack executed so quickly that even if the girl had been holding a gun she wouldn’t be able to stop them. They had not counted on their actions killing the room’s only light or being greeted by a trip wire.
Kira Miller had also jumped in shock when the door was kicked open, but she recovered quickly. While the attackers lay sprawled on the floor, dazed, wondering what had hit them and why the world had suddenly gone dark, she slid her thermal imaging goggles down over her eyes. The two intruders instantly became visible as glowing, highly resolved three-dimensional silhouettes.
“Don’t move!” she barked.
The taller of the two attackers had now fully recovered his wits after the surprise fall. The girl wasn’t as clever as they had been led to believe, he thought arrogantly. The room was as dark as a cave, but she had foolishly given them the upper hand by speaking and giving away her location. He ignored her command and soundlessly lifted his arm and pointed his gun in the direction from which her voice had originated.
She shot him in the chest with her stun gun as he prepared to fire.
The tall man convulsed violently and lay still on the ground while Kira quickly retracted the dual electrode harpoons, ready for another shot. The man’s partner silently began to change position on the floor so that he could attempt an attack as well, not having learned from his colleague’s miscalculation.
“Just because you can’t see,” hissed Kira, “doesn’t mean that I can’t.”
The man froze in place. Like his paralyzed partner, he had assumed she couldn’t see him or detect his movements, a foolish and potentially fatal assumption. They had been warned that she was very clever and not to underestimate her.
“That’s right,” she said smugly. “I’m wearing night-vision goggles. So let’s try this again. Don’t. Move.” She emphasized each word as if speaking to a stubborn toddler.
Desh’s mind had been racing since the attack began, considering his options. But he realized that even if he could free himself, escape was hopeless. He couldn’t see any better than the attackers could.
Kira pulled a Glock from her bag with a silencer already attached, although given that the sound of the door being forced open would already have awakened every last motel resident—several of whom, at least, were now calling the police—the silencer had questionable value.
“I’m now pointing a gun at you,” she explained. “Ho
w many others are with you and what is their location?” she demanded.
“No others,” replied the man, shaking his head. “Just us.”
Kira fired. The silenced gun issued a spitting sound as she sent a bullet tearing through the meaty part of the man’s thigh. “I’ll only ask once more,” she growled. “How many others are with you and what is their location?”
“One other,” grunted the man as he desperately began trying to staunch the flow of blood from his leg. “He’s taken up a sniper position facing your room to prevent any escape. He’s equipped with a thermal imager.”
Kira said nothing. She adjusted a setting on the stun gun and fired. The intruder convulsed and lay still, unconscious. She reloaded the gun, adjusted the setting once more, and shot the first man again, rendering him unconscious as well. She pulled a ski mask from her bag, made from the same material as her jumpsuit, and stretched it over her goggles. The material snapped back into shape to fit snugly over her face and nose, fitting perfectly around the goggles and leaving not a single section of her face exposed.
“Shit!” she fumed. “We needed more time. They shouldn’t have tracked us here for five or six more hours,” she said despondently, as much to herself as to Desh. “By then we would have been long gone.” She had been in complete control when dealing with the two attackers, but she was distraught now, as if she had just suffered a terrible loss. Desh was still blind but could hear it clearly in her voice.
“I have to get out of here,” she said after a few seconds of silence. “Now.” Desh noted that any hint of vulnerability had once again disappeared from her voice. “I can’t trust you untied, and I don’t have time to drag you with me.”
Desh’s heart raced furiously. So what would she do with him now? Would she decide to put a bullet in his brain before she left? Desh knew she intended to go through the adjoining room and out the other side of the motel. Her planning had been extraordinary. Just as she had expected, the attackers were only watching the door on the front side of the motel, thinking it was her only exit.
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