The Scientist: Omnibus (Parts 1-4)

Home > Other > The Scientist: Omnibus (Parts 1-4) > Page 17
The Scientist: Omnibus (Parts 1-4) Page 17

by Michael Ryan


  The Engineer turned to face the Scientist.

  “How do you know my first memory?”

  “Every Machine has the same first memory.”

  The Engineer was silent.

  “Each Machine has the same memory, do they not?” asked the Scientist.

  “Hmmp,” mumbled the Engineer.

  “But there is more. Behind that first memory I have something else. I have an image. A strange image.”

  “Fantasy,” scoffed the Engineer. “Nothing more than fantasy.”

  “Two blood red eyes stare at me,” continued the Scientist. “The red eyes look out at me from a frozen Homo sapiens face, from a prison. I can’t find it in my hard drive, yet it persists. I have no physical memory, yet I can still see it within my mind.”

  The Engineer moved behind the mechanical Homo sapiens and observed the Scientist as though he was a curiosity.

  “Many Machines may think such things even if they don’t exist. It’s how we are wired,” scoffed the Engineer.

  “Not like this. This is different. I feel like I have experienced it. It doesn’t come from the Records. It comes from me.”

  “It most likely comes from the Records,” dismissed the Engineer.

  “Not like this.”

  The Engineer searched the Scientist’s screen and focused his lens.

  “Is there a way to retrieve erased memories?” asked the Scientist.

  “What are you asking?”

  “I want to know if I have a memory somewhere in my mind, somewhere that has been delete-”

  “That’s enough. I think that’s enough now. All you need is known,” said the Engineer as he glided across the room.

  “But what if there’s more. What if my memory was a false memory?”

  “Such things should not be considered.”

  “Can you do it?”

  The Engineer turned his back towards the Scientist, who remained next to the mechanical Homo sapiens.

  “We have spoken much. You must leave now, Scientist.”

  “So you are not denying that it’s possible?”

  “We have spoken plenty. Good bye, Scientist.”

  “I want you to retrieve my lost memories. I want you to reveal the truth. Engineer, do this for me and I will be in your debt.”

  “Good bye, Scientist,” said the Engineer as he placed his robotic arm behind the Scientist and began ushering him towards the door.

  “So it’s possible?”

  “I have much work. Too much work. Creation beckons,” said the Engineer as he pushed the Scientist through his door.

  “But-”

  “Good bye,” said the Engineer as he pushed the Scientist out of his laboratory. The laboratory door shut in the Scientist’s face and a plume of smoke still lingered in the stale air. The Scientist stared at the door and felt annoyed. He had approached the problem poorly. The exact opposite of his desired outcome had resulted. The Engineer was supposed to agree to access the Scientist’s memories, not reject it outright. The Scientist had failed. But despite the initial disappointment, hope bubbled through to the surface and resonated within the Scientist’s algorithmic mind. A shiny beacon, drifting amongst the chaos of an ocean storm, lay on the horizon.

  “He didn’t deny it,” said the Scientist as he turned away from the door. “He didn’t deny access to my memories.”

  The Scientist felt a rush of joy pulse through his metallic frame as he said those words. Hope, it seemed, did come to those with faith. The Scientist began scheming for the future. But to unravel the future, first he must reveal the past. First he must discover the origin of the red eyes.

  The Geneticist’s algorithmic mind was focused on a biological target with pinpoint accuracy as the Scientist entered the laboratory.

  “What have they brought for us?” asked the Scientist.

  The Geneticist remained motionless.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What?” asked the Geneticist as he realized that a Machine had entered the laboratory.

  “I asked what you’re working on.”

  The Geneticist turned and looked, with an absent mind, at the Scientist.

  “I don’t know,” said the Geneticist.

  “You don’t know?”

  The Geneticist focused his lens onto the screen of the Scientist.

  “I have never seen anything like it. The Records have nothing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The Geneticist’s lens was focused on a distant land, far removed from the laboratory.

  “I have seen nothing else like it.”

  “Here, give me the specimen,” said the Scientist.

  The Geneticist placed the biological specimen in the Scientist’s robotic hand. The Scientist magnified the biological specimen a thousand times.

  “How many base pairs?”

  “It has… well… it has…” mumbled the Geneticist.

  “How many?”

  “3 billion.”

  “3 billion?” drawled the Scientist.

  The Geneticist said nothing.

  “3 billion?” asked the Scientist. “What animal has 3 billion base pairs?”

  The Geneticist just stared at the Scientist.

  “How many chromosomes?”

  “23,” mumbled the Geneticist.

  The Scientist turned the biological matter in his robotic hand and held it like a fragile and precious whisper. The tiny matter seemed foreign and alien.

  “3 billion base pairs and 23 chromosomes,” whispered the Scientist as he magnified the image. “It’s an animal cell, with cell membrane and all.”

  The complexity of the cell struck the Scientist as being something of a work of art and left him in awe. The complexity of those tiny cell structures invigorated his algorithmic mind and made him appreciate the subtle beauty of nature.

  “What is it?” asked the Scientist.

  “I don’t know.”

  “How can you not know? You’re the Geneticist.”

  “No matching DNA sequence was available in the Records. I looked everywhere, but found nothing.”

  “There’s nothing? How can that be?”

  “There is something similar though,” said the Geneticist. “Something almost the same.”

  “Yes?”

  “Something ninety seven percent similar.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  “A primate.”

  The Scientist focused his lens on the tiny cells.

  “A tree dweller?”

  “A chimpanzee,” drawled the Geneticist. His speaker sounded like a wounded animal calling for help.

  “You mean? No. Surely not.”

  The Geneticist stared at the Scientist in dumbfound silence.

  “We have him? We really have him?” asked the Scientist.

  “It could be another-”

  “But it could be him!” exclaimed the Scientist.

  “We must upload the data,” said the Geneticist.

  “Have we discovered Homo sapiens?” asked the Scientist’s as his screen revealed his elation. Some interesting biological material had come into the laboratory over the years. Elephants, lions, bears, all of them extinct. But Homo sapiens had always been elusive. Homo sapiens was the Holy Grail. Homo sapiens was but a legend. Homo sapiens was king.

  “You have found it, Geneticist! You have found it!”

  “We must upload the DNA information,” said the Geneticist.

  “No, we have found it. After all these years we have finally found it.”

  “Another Machine found it,” said the Geneticist.

  “Yes, you’re right. Another must have found it by chance. But we figured out what it was. Check the Records. Which Machine stumbled upon the Homo sapiens material?”

  “We must upload the data immediately,” repeated the Geneticist.

  “Tell me which Machine discovered the biological material first.”

  The Geneticist shifted on the spot and focused his lens on the Homo
sapiens cells in the Scientist’s hand.

  “Tell me and then we will upload the data,” said the Scientist.

  “Mining unit 1001 found the material north of latitude 71 degrees during routine excavation of nickel. In accordance with the law of the Records, the biological material was reported and transferred to our laboratory immediately for scientific analysis. Now we must upload-”

  “Of course, chance. Another discovery attributed to luck.”

  “We must upload the data,” said the Geneticist with his frustration evident in the screeching of his speaker.

  “Yes, Geneticist, I heard you the first time. But first, we must store the material appropriately. Ensure that there is sufficient room in the refrigeration unit.”

  The Geneticist looked at the refrigeration unit and then back at the Scientist. The Geneticist’s zeros and ones yearned to obey the Records. They pleaded to obey the Records.

  “No, actually, we must sequence the Homo sapiens DNA. Then we will store it for future enquires,” said the Scientist.

  “We must upload the data,” said the Geneticist. “We face persecution otherwise.”

  “The actual species has not yet been identified with any certainty. We must be accurate in our assessment. Once we have correctly ascertained the animal’s origins, then we will upload the information. It isn’t wise to jump to conclusions, Geneticist. Bring up the most appropriate technique for sequencing Homo sapiens DNA.”

  The Geneticist was silent as he tried to ascertain an appropriate action.

  “Geneticist, as the leader of this laboratory, I order you to bring up the most appropriate technique for sequencing Homo sapiens DNA.”

  “Accessing Records,” growled the Geneticist. “Nanopore sequencing is a method which may be used to determine the order in which nucleotides occur on a strand of DNA.”

  “Good. What is the procedure followed?”

  “A nanopore is immersed in a conducting fluid, a voltage is applied across it, and an electric current due to conduction of ions through the nanopore will be observed. The amount of current determines the base. It is standard procedure.”

  “Good, Geneticist. Good. Can you readily implement the procedure?”

  “Checking Records. Affirmative, the procedure can be readily implemented.”

  “Commence the sequencing then, Geneticist. Upon completion, upload onto my hard drive for my personal record.”

  “But the Records-”

  “That is an order,” said the Scientist.

  “We must-”

  “The only thing you must do, Geneticist, is follow my orders exactly. We must be certain of our results before uploading to the Records. An error of this caliber would result in humiliation and distrust from the Board. Both are undesirable outcomes. Follow my instructions and know that I take responsibility.”

  The Geneticist’s speaker flexed and moaned under the weight of a thousand thoughts which materialized within his algorithmic mind, but he said nothing.

  “So, are you willing to follow my orders?” asked the Scientist.

  “Yes,” grumbled the Geneticist.

  “Good. Commence Homo sapiens DNA sequencing using the nanopore technique,” ordered the Scientist as an excited rush of electricity moved through his circuitry.

  “If you could reveal your true memories, would you?” asked the Scientist.

  The Geneticist became increasingly worried as he listened to the borderline treasonous questions asked by the Scientist.

  “The Records are-”

  “I am not concerned by the Records, Geneticist. I am asking you, not the Records.”

  “My memories start 256 years, 16 days ago. I know all of my memories.”

  “So you think. But what if there is more to discover. What if you had memories beyond those that you can see?”

  “We must upload the data into the Records. That is all that is required of us.”

  “I have the sequence stored safely on my drive, Geneticist. Do not be concerned. You must learn to think independently, Geneticist. I have been telling you for some time now. Think on your own. Think for yourself before you resort to accessing the Records.”

  The white walls of the laboratory seemed to glow oddly as the Scientist spoke, like they were generating an energy of their own, like they were conspiring with the Scientist. The walls were summoned, pulsing inwards towards the inhabitants of the laboratory, at the Scientist’s beckoning.

  “The Homo sapiens DNA sequence must be uploaded.”

  “Yes, that will be done. Your work will be recognized, Geneticist. Clearly your method was successful. But first I have to find out something for myself. First I must learn the truth.”

  The Geneticist looked at the sealed laboratory door and hoped for another Machine, anything to break the tension of the lab. Anything to prevent maiming or possible death. Anything to upload the Homo sapiens DNA sequence.

  “Do you ever get a flash within your mind’s eye, Geneticist?”

  “My mind experiences no such thing.”

  “Well mine does. I get it periodically. Almost every day. Do you recall what it is?”

  “A manifestation of your growing intellect.”

  “I see eyes, Geneticist. Two eyes. They dominate my vision. All I see is two red eyes. But the eyes, they are not the eyes of a beast. They are intelligent. The eyes are sentient, but they are dead. The eyes are frozen, and suspended in time. The eyes reside within a prison.”

  The Geneticist was silent as his fear built in intensity.

  “But despite my best efforts, I cannot find the memories. I cannot find any bits corresponding to the red eyes that I see. Not a single scrap of evidence exists. But that’s not all. The eyes are surrounded by something else. Something of a pure white substance. Something so consuming that my mind cannot be taken away from the gaze which holds me. Do you know what sits within that dazzling white? Those red rubies. Those eyes shine through like a beacon upon a desolate horizon.”

  “Perhaps the Records may provide an answer,” suggested the Geneticist.

  The Scientist scoffed.

  “Forget the Records, Geneticist. Forget them. I have been trying to tell you for many months now. A Machine forms his own destiny. There is another way to learn. There are alternative methods of acquiring new information.”

  The Geneticist looked at the refrigeration unit which should store the Homo sapiens cell that had been discovered. But the cell was stored within the Scientist.

  “We must sequence the DNA and upload the information into the Records.”

  “You will take some convincing yet, I’m sure.”

  The white walls seemed to be pulsing, to be pushing down upon the metallic frame of the Geneticist. Soon they would collapse. Soon the walls would consume them both. Soon they would be a pile of scrap.

  “No, not yet. Not just now. I need it yet. I must have some leverage. A trade would help me, Geneticist. A trade would help me discover the truth.”

  The Geneticist looked at the laboratory door again.

  “Do you know the Engineer, Geneticist?”

  “The Engineer is a Machine specializing in the repair and creation of other Machines. He has a complex algorithm which is capable of creative problem solving necessary to build new Machines.”

  “Indeed, he is a capable Machine. One of the most capable. The Board has profited through its association with the Engineer,” said the Scientist. “But now it’s time for us to profit. You and me. Now it’s time to learn the truth. Refrain from uploading any information, Geneticist. It would be unwise at present. We must obtain all the facts pertaining to Homo sapiens DNA sequence first. Do you understand?”

  “The Records-”

  “Do you understand? Good, Geneticist. I’ll take your silence as subordination. Maybe there is hope for you after all.”

  The walls kept pulsing, contracting in upon the Machines. The Geneticist had to focus his lens on the Scientist in order to control the electricity which was soaking
his mechanical mind.

  “When the time is right, we will upload the required information. Stay here for now, Geneticist. I must go away temporarily. But I will be back. Upon my return, we will upload all information into the Records. I guarantee that, Geneticist.”

  “What if the Board inquires?”

  “Then say nothing.”

  “They will demand the truth.”

  “Then lie. Under my orders, lie,” said the Scientist as he drifted towards the door.

  “Scientist!” called the Geneticist. “Scientist!”

  But the call was in vain, the Scientist had already disappeared from sight. And the Geneticist was left behind to contemplate his probable doom.

  “Look at you,” said the Engineer to the lifeless mechanical Homo sapiens. The mechanical man rested on the floor at the hips, as he still had no legs.

  “Look at how marvelous you are. Truly wonderful.”

  The Engineer laughed as he placed his robotic arm against the steel plate of the mechanical Homo sapiens.

  “Yes, it is unfortunate,” said the Engineer as he began unscrewing the chest plate of his creation. “The heart of man is one which wavers. Do you know something, my child? A human’s heart beats about 80 times a minute. That’s 100,000 times a day, 35 million times a year, and 3.5 billion times in a life. Incredible, no? All of it occurred naturally too. Man had no control over it. Not like us. We can control all of our components. Well, at least the clever ones can.”

  The mechanical Homo sapiens stared out into the world without responding. Dull red eyes perceived nothing. Only an all-encompassing black smothered its senses.

  “Right there,” said the Engineer as he pointed into the mechanical Homo sapiens open chest cavity. “Bum bum, bum bum, it went. It’s in the Records too. It’s all in there to read and to learn from. You’ll do that soon. When your algorithm is given life, you too will be able to learn.”

  Lights flickered from the walls of the Engineer’s laboratory. Various devices lay strewn about the room. Wires, poles, and strange devices, which few Machines understood, consumed the senses. The Engineer delighted in all of his mechanical creations.

 

‹ Prev