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She leaned forward and pressed her cheek against the wall, goosebumps instantly rising on the back of her neck. It was just her imagination, maybe, but when she closed her eyes she thought she heard the air whistling through their perfectly-formed noses, their biologically pristine bodies taking the oxygen from the air at near one hundred percent efficiency.
“Dr. Davidson.”
Chal jumped a little, starting back from the door. She spun around to find Dr. Fielding standing against the mice cages.
“I seem to always be startling you,” he said.
“That’s what happens when you keep an eye on someone,” Chal said. She breathed heavily, trying to compose herself.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and Chal had the odd feeling that he meant it. It was to be expected, anyway. Generosity was easy in victory.
“Congratulations,” she said. “You’ve got the project back.”
His mouth twisted sideways in what could not be called a smile.
“We just finished a session,” he said.
She nodded, knowing she looked pale and tired but not caring. “I saw him coming out.”
“He asked for you.”
At these words Chal’s heart jumped, and she could not believe that she had heard correctly. “For me?”
“He said that he wanted to talk with you.”
“What was the session about?” Chal asked. “What happened?”
“Emotional states.” Dr. Fielding took the drive out of his pocket and slid it over toward Chal’s computer. “You should watch it before the next questioning.”
“Why me?” Chal said, her hand resting lightly on the drive. “You’re the questioner now.”
“Dr. Davidson,” Fielding said, “it wasn’t my decision to change the project’s lead.”
“No, I’m sure you fought it tooth and nail,” Chal said. She was sick of being led around by the nose by men who weren’t capable of doing the job she did. Hadn’t she saved the project twice already? This was hard repayment, indeed.
“Believe it or not, doctor, but I was impressed by how you handled the situation earlier.” Dr. Fielding looked up at Chal. “I could not have done as well.”
“It’s great that you’re back in charge, then.”
“I need your help,” he said. He spread his hands in front of him in a gesture of supplication. “I would like for you to continue the questionings with the prototype.”
Chal paused for a moment to consider his request.
“This is ridiculous,” she said finally. “I’ve been dismissed from the project–”
“By Lieutenant Johnner,” Dr. Fielding said. “Not by me.”
“And will Lieutenant Johnner be fine with me doing this, do you think?” she asked.
“Lieutenant Johnner,” Dr. Fielding said, “is gone. I am in charge of the project. And it is my professional opinion that the prototype’s successful development would be best served by having you continue on in your capacity as questioner.”
“Wait, hold on,” Chal said. “What do you mean, Johnner is gone?”
“He’s meeting with a consulate group or committee or some such,” Dr. Fielding said. “He told me he trusted me to run the experiment while he was gone.”
“But the lab is locked down,” Chal said. Her head was spinning. “He said nobody was allowed to leave.”
Dr. Fielding darted his tongue out to the corner of his lips. “Lieutenant Johnner doesn’t always play by the rules. As I’m sure you’ve found out.”
Chal waited, her thoughts chasing each other back and forth. She didn’t know what Fielding was up to, but he certainly seemed to have had a change of heart about her participation in the project.
“You’ll grant me full control over the prototype’s development?” Chal asked.
“As much as Johnner will allow once he comes back,” Fielding said. “I can’t promise more than that.”
“What if he throws me off the project as soon as he gets back down here?” Chal asked.
Dr. Fielding shrugged, a gesture that seemed oddly incongruous on his body.
“Then I suppose you had better make this next session count.”
***
Chal was watching the recording. Her lip trembled as she saw Alan wheeled in, hooked up to the IV in the sensory deprivation tank. They had turned the lights back down to low, the white noise level up. Dr. Fielding sat in the shadows.
The IV began to drip green liquid into the line, but it was barely visible in the dim light. A minute passed without anything at all happening. Dr. Fielding shifted in his seat.
Then Alan’s eyes opened. He blinked, then stared straight ahead, as though remembering something. Dr. Fielding was silent. That’s something, at least, Chal said. He just needs to stay quiet.
“Where is Chal?” Alan asked.
“Chal isn’t here,” Dr. Fielding said softly.
Alan rose halfway out of the water. “That seems to be obvious enough. But where is she? I’d like to talk to her.”
Chal put her chin in her hand, watching with rapt attention. Alan’s brain seemed to have branched out since the last session. His neural development in language structure and content had progressed significantly. The fusiform gyrus was active –he could differentiate people based on facial cues. That was something that normally didn’t occur until later in infancy. But Alan seemed already to be well past this stage.
“What would you like to say to her?” Dr. Fielding asked. “I can tell her for you.”
Alan looked at Dr. Fielding curiously, cocking his head.
“I would like to tell her myself,” he said. “It’s personal.” He leaned forward, grasping the edge of the tank in his strong hands.
Dr. Fielding shifted in his seat, eyeing the small table next to him. Chal recognized the syringe on the table. It was the interferon serum.
Alan noticed his glance and shook his head. “There’s no need for that, doctor,” he said.
Jesus, thought Chal. He doesn’t miss anything. She wondered if he had been that attentive in the first few sessions. Already she was thinking about the different parts of the brain that could have changed inside of him. The parietal lobe must have expanded like crazy, and with it his ability to process motion and other stimuli.
Perception usually came first in nascent intelligences, then reasoning. However, he seemed to be developing both at rapid speed. She wanted to see his charts for brain tissue growth.
“May we talk about something else?” Dr. Fielding asked. He scratched his forehead with his index finger, and Chal noticed that the IV had switched over to the sedative. It must have been a signal to the observation team to switch the IV. Smart precaution. “Chal will be back later.”
“You’re lying,” Alan said. “And you’ve changed the IV.” He looked back to where the line was now dripping red.
“It’s part of the experiment,” Dr. Fielding said, but his neck was flushing red and his tongue was darting to the corner of his mouth in quick repetition.
“Put me to sleep, then, doctor,” Alan said. He lay back in the tank, letting his body float. “I don’t mind the rest. But the next person I will talk to is Chal.”
His eyes closed and Dr. Fielding immediately stood up, picking up the syringe and clipboard in his hand. He turned and stumbled over the stool, knocking it to the ground. He looked back guiltily, but Alan was silent and unmoving.
Just like a body. Just like one of those bodies.
She paused the recording. Alan lay alone in the tank, bobbing slightly. Chal looked around, but there was nobody in the lab except for her and the animals. She looked to the ceiling, up to where the world continued living. An inexplicable chill ran through her body, and the thought of so much earth above her made her queasy.
Quickly switching off the recording, she stood up and noticed the cabinet that contained the interferon serum was unlocked, the door slightly ajar. Chal walked over to it, looking back over her shoulder to make sure she was alone.
She reached inside and pulled out one of the clear vials. She held it up to the light and rotated it in her fingers, seeing the liquid inside slosh first to one side, then the other. Liquid death, or whatever came to you when your brain dissolved, neuron by neuron. She didn’t know why, but the vial in her hand gave her an instant sense of security.
Security? What would you do if someone attacked you now? Chal thought. Ask them politely if they wouldn’t mind drinking it?
There was a noise in the hallway. Chal slipped the vial of serum into her lab coat pocket and swung the cabinet door shut, locking it. There was a box of sterile syringes on the counter, and she grabbed one of them as well, pocketing it just in time. As she turned to leave, Evan walked into the lab.
“Evening, Dr. Davidson,” he said, nodding pleasantly. He still wasn’t comfortable around her, but that was okay. She was going to talk with Alan again, and that was all that mattered.
“Evening,” she said, passing by him with only a twinge of anxiety.
It was evening? She felt more confused than ever. Time was impossible to gauge here. She felt her pocket, where the serum and syringe were hard underneath the coat fabric, and breathed a tiny sigh of relief.
***
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“At present, human scientists are attempting to communicate outside our species to primates and cetaceans, and in a limited way to a few other vertebrates. This is inordinately difficult, and yet it represents a gap of at most a few SQ points. The farthest we can reach our "communication" with vegetation is when we plant, water, or fertilize it, but it is evident that messages transmitted across an SQ gap of 10 points or more cannot be very meaningful. What, then, could an SQ +50 Superbeing possibly have to say to us?” -Robert A. Freitas Jr.
***
“I don’t think the next session will require the sensory deprivation tank,” Chal said. “He seems adjusted to the normal stimuli already.”
“No, I agree. I’ll get them to bring out a chair for the next questioning.” Dr. Fielding and Chal were overseeing the assistants as they ran the bloodwork. It was mostly Dr. Fielding who was overseeing; Chal was running through all of the things that needed to be taken care of before her session with Alan.
“His language was fully developed,” Chal said.
“He’s matured surprisingly quickly,” Dr. Fielding said. “The synapse density in certain parts of his brain is quite high, almost that of a completely mature human male.”
“It seemed that way, didn’t it?” Chal said. “Pushing him so far might have accelerated his development. That which does not kill you makes you stronger, right?”
“I’ve always found that a rather barbaric saying,” Dr. Fielding said. “But you’re probably right about the development.”
“How do you do it?” Chal asked. The question had been milling around in her brain since the beginning.
“Do what?”
“The programming. His brain. All of the code that I’ve used in my previous experiments has been very straightforward.”
“And this isn’t?”
“I mean that we basically code our subjects to mimic existing neuronal structures. Rats, for example.”
“It’s very much the same here,” Dr. Fielding said. “Backwards emotional induction based on existing neuronal data.”
“Who do you use as your models?” She was curious about the man Evan had mentioned.
“That’s classified information,” Dr. Fielding said.
“Could I look at the code?” Chal asked. “I’d like to at least see the overall structure we’re building on.”
“Of course,” Dr. Fielding said. “I’ll show it to you later.”
Chal had the feeling that he was lying to her, but she wasn’t going to confront him over it. There was too much else to do now without worrying about what his preprogrammed structures were. The brain development was progressing far more quickly than Chal could ever have anticipated, and she needed to adjust her questioning based on his developing maturity. The code could wait.
“Why do you handcuff him to the bed?” Chal asked abruptly. “Do you think he’s going to run away while he’s under deep sedation?”
“No, Dr. Davidson. But there is the problem of theft.”
“Theft.” Chal raised her eyebrow.
“The prototype is a piece of research worth many millions of dollars,” Dr. Fielding said. “There are many who would like to steal it.”
“It would be impossible for a thief to get all the way down here,” Chal said. “There are guards everywhere.”
“Highly unlikely, to be sure,” Dr. Fielding said. “But not impossible.”
“Really?” Chal said. She raised an eyebrow at Dr. Fielding, who raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Not me!” he said. “I’m just a scientist.”
Chal smiled and focused her attention on the prep work. “Me too. Too bad, or we could split the profit.”
“I thought you were a businesswoman as well as a scientist,” Fielding said. He seemed to be probing her. “On the covers of so many magazines. Doing commercials.”
“Gotta pay the bills,” Chal said.
“Ah,” Dr. Fielding said, and was quiet again. The assistants had a question about the bloodwork, and he stopped to help them. When he returned his face had dropped into a more somber attitude.
“Problem with something?” Chal asked.
“No, not at all.”
“Good. You’ve got a good team here working under you,” Chal said.
“Yes. So many famous scientists have stepped on the backs of their subordinates on their way to the top.” Dr. Fielding directed the last statement towards Chal, and she felt chastised.
“Good thing we’re underground, then,” Chal quipped. “In any case, the important thing here is making sure Alan’s development goes smoothly.”
“I’m glad we are on the same page,” Dr. Fielding said.
***
They had brought Alan into the room. This time he was sitting not in a tank but in a chair, a sheet draped over his body. To mimic the same awakening process, Chal had reclined the chair back, but had not bothered with any of the lighting or sound. The last session had not needed those trappings, and she felt as though he was beyond needing that kind of help.
The IV began to drip green, and Chal tried to calm her nerves. He had asked for her, but why? She had been trying to avoid reaching the conclusion, insane as it was, that they had formed a strong emotional connection. Whether she blamed it on her sleep deprivation or anxiety, though, there was no getting around the fact that he had asked for her specifically.
Dr. Fielding didn’t act put out by being made to stand in the sidelines. He was cool, reserved, and Chal admired his dispassionate approach more now that she had seen his side of things. She still thought he was a racist asshole, but even racist assholes can be good scientists.
Alan’s eyelids fluttered. He opened them slowly, looking around. He looked down and felt the sheet in his fingers. Then he saw Chal and, impossibly, blushed.
“Hello, Alan,” she said, smiling.
“Hello, Chal,” he said. “I wanted to thank you.” He reached out and took her hand in his, as naturally as if they were already close companions. Her fingers pressed against his warm palm, and she felt again how strong he was.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “I’m not sure what you’re thanking me for, though.”
“You saved my life,” he said. “I didn’t know what was happening. I panicked. If not for you, I’d be dead.”
Chal shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“I was just doing my job,” she said.
“I understand now,” Alan said. “I knew before – I had the knowledge – but now I truly understand.”
“That’s good,” Chal said. He was still holding her hand firmly, as though he was afraid she would stand up and leave at any moment.
“I have some questions,” Alan said. “I wanted to talk with you because I k
new you would tell me the truth.” He looked at her meaningfully, and she saw in his eyes a trust and a depth that he had not possessed before. Before, he had looked at her as a child would have, with an empty trust born of inexperience. This... this was different.
“Go ahead,” Chal said, not trusting herself to say any more.
“What is this place?” Alan said.
“It’s a government research facility,” Chal said. “Underground, in Arizona.”
Alan blinked. “What am I doing here?”
“You–” Chal was at a loss for how to explain it. They had implanted a number of neuronal structures, but they had omitted a history for Alan, Dr. Fielding had told her. He thought, and she agreed, that any false memory of the sort would eventually lead to a dangerous mental contradiction. Now, though, she had to think of a way to tell him.
Alan pressed her hand.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I know there’s something different about me.”
“Different?” she echoed.
“Why else would they have me here, why would they put me in a tank?” Alan said. He looked concerned. “Am I sick?”
“No,” Chal said.
“Am I dangerous?” He sat forward in his chair.
Chal shook her head. “No, not at all. You were created here.”
“Created?” Alan leaned toward Chal. “I don’t understand.”
“Humans are... born,” Chal said.
Alan laughed, and the sound was entirely too normal. It was as though they were talking in a café, not a scientific laboratory.
“Well, yes, obviously,” he said. He noticed that she was not laughing with him, and the smile dropped from his face. “So I was born here?”
“In a sense,” Chal said. “You’re not a normal human.”
Alan bit his lower lip. “Go on.”
“Your body was grown independently,” Chal said. “Your brain was grown later, guided by a digital core. We monitored your development until it was time to wake you up and introduce you to the external world.”
“I don’t understand,” Alan said. “So I’m not human?”
“You have a human body,” Chal said. “Physically you’re all human, except for certain parts of your brain.”