Absolute Power (Book 1): Origins
Page 7
Henry was staying in one of the underground dormitories. His room was just large enough to fit a bed, but that didn't matter because he wasn't getting much sleep.
From day one, the other researchers already had a number of projects and requests for him. His doctorates in medical research and engineering were being put to use. As well as his Ph.D.'s in math. But being the new guy, most of what they had him working on was basic number crunching and tests. Not exactly the edge science that Doctor Stein had implied.
Henry’s main project was designing artificial limbs that performed as close to real as possible. The challenge was the mechanics of the device, the control system and the materials used to manufacture it. All of which Henry had solved in his first week there, he just didn't tell anyone. It was partially because they had relegated him to ‘lab assistant.' He knew it was petty, but there was logic to his plan. Despite his talents and abilities the others didn’t respect him. He had experienced the same thing as a child genius. So he understood that in such a situation, it was best to solve the problem quietly and then wait until the others failed.
In this case, Henry had designed schematics for the limbs, created a human to machine interface and developed hardened material that was resistant to damage and wear. During the process though, he discovered that the project would be a failure, at least to his standards. Yes, the researchers would produce the product that had been requested. They would even get a pat on the back for their good work. Admittedly, the problem wasn’t with the staff, but the vision of the financier. Henry saw that the project could go far beyond what their backer had dreamed.
So he spent his time creating what he knew would be revolutionary science by using the materials and resources of RDS, and in his spare time worked out equations for his co-workers.
At the moment, he was waiting for the computer to finish machining one of his designs. The noise of the laser cutter didn't bother him as he stood in front of a white board thinking. There was a long equation written in black and Henry's notes in blue.
“Doctor Schreier, did you finish those structural tests on the joints?” Jenny Banks asked. She was lead medical engineer on the project. Relatively attractive, if you took into account that they had all been cooped up together for months. Biological reactions being as they were, people tended to see things differently when going without sex for so long. She only had an MD but was specialized in vascular surgery and seemed to have a proficiency in mechanics. There was no real reason she should be the head of anything, except that her father was some sort of General. “Doctor,” she said louder to get his attention.
“The joint will fail at two point three foot pounds of rotational torque,” Henry replied.
“Can I see the report,” Jenny asked annoyed.
“I did not write a report because I did not do any tests,” Henry was still staring at the white board.
“First off, I told you to run those tests last week,” Jenny was shouting over the laser cutter. “Second, you can't make up data; we need facts, because this is science.”
Henry put the cap on the marker he was holding and turned to Jenny. “I did not do the tests because it was obvious from looking at the thing that it was flawed. The calculations I used were simply based on the materials and measurements.” Something occurred to him at that moment, and he asked, “Do you know the potential atomic energy of an apple?”
Jenny Banks put her hands out and clenched her fingers. She was nearly about to strangle him. “What the hell are you working on? What the hell are you machining in here? Why are you not doing what you're told? You're not paid to fool around; this is serious stuff we are working on.”
“I heard the Chinese were doing something with teleportation,” Henry said, “I thought it would be fun to work out the math.”
“That's not why you're here,” Jenny yelled.
“Yes, I know,” Henry said. Now he was getting angry. “I am here because Doctor Stein thought I might be instrumental in creating a human interface for your project. But what I'm doing is solving equations that a college freshman could do.”
“Doctor Stein may be the head of this facility, but he has no idea how things work down here,” Jenny gestured violently with her hands. “It's all fine and good to hire someone to come up with some fantasy theories, but we work in practical science. We make things that are possible today, not in the future when we have flying cars. So you may be Stein’s new toy, but the man is an idiot.”
“Yes, I assumed so,” Henry said flatly, “Otherwise why would he have hired you?”
“You son of a bitch...” Jenny stomped forward ready to slap him when she caught sight of what was being made in the laser cutter. “What exactly is that?” She leaned down to look through the observation window. The laser was shooting around faster than the eye could see. It was cutting and shaping a hollow tube. As it went along, the tube tapered down and took on a gentle curve.
“A left ulna,” Henry answered.
“And the material?”
“A compressed weave of tungsten fibers.”
“How did you get them to...?” Jenny tried to ask.
Henry cut her off, “Doctor Banks, if you do not mind I have a lot to do. A bioelectric nervous system does not build itself.”
2001, Nebraska
No one said they were going to be friends, but the team didn't complain when Henry was placed as head of the project. For the duration of the job, they would be the human calculators and Henry would be free to work. The schematics for every human body part had already been drawn up. Surgical integration needed to be tested as well as the command connections to the human nervous system. All of that was more or less trial and error work, something Henry pawned off on the others. It was the control software that had become his obsession.
The structure of the program needed to be elegant and efficient. Their entire project would be pointless if the signal from the brain took longer than the average human's reaction time. The biggest problem was translating the synaptic impulses. It was like a deaf person learning to write music. But Henry certainly considered himself the Beethoven of science.
The solution seemed to require some form of neural implant. The problem was that science had very little understanding of the brain so Henry couldn't just jam something in there.
Henry made a note to do a complete mapping of the brain. With that type of information, he'd also be able to do a massive cybernetic integration with very little data loss. One of the other researchers came into his office. A young kid with more book smarts than actual lab work. His name was Arthur or Aaron or something like that. Henry spun around in his chair when he heard him enter. “Do you happen to know how much trauma a body can suffer before its organs begin to shutdown?” He asked.
“I...,” the kid was caught off guard. “I'm mainly a chemist.”
Henry turned and jotted down another note about designing artificial organs. “If I can get past the body’s biological shutdown, then I could in theory cut a person apart and sew him back together again. What do you think?”
The kid had no idea what Henry was saying. And the horrified look on his face said the rest.
He wrote another note about an artificial oxygen and blood transportation system. “I need to keep blood and oxygen flowing to the brain,” Henry kept talking, “But do you think the brain is what tells the organs to shutdown, even if they were artificial?” This time he put a notation next to the note about brain mapping. “The rest is grunt work,” Henry said. “The lynchpin is the brain and the software that's going to go into it.” To the kid he said, “Tell the others I will not be available for a while. If they have any questions go over my notes.”
Henry had a lot of work ahead of him. He was about to create a machine that could directly interface with the brain, a software code that was compatible with it and the medical science that could stick it in there.
2005, Nebraska
“But it's finished,” Henry tried to explain.
“I know Henry, it's been finished for nearly two years,” Doctor Stein said to him. “We were paid 'x' amount of money to produce a specific item. That money was put into making that item. That item was created and delivered to some very happy clients.”
“They only got bits and pieces,” Henry said. He was trying hard to stay seated. “They still need the direct neural interface and the training for medical integration.”
“No, they don't,” Doctor Stein stayed calm. It wasn't the first time a scientist had a tantrum in his office. “They got what they wanted. What you're doing is not what they paid for. In fact, no one is paying for it. Including RDS.”
“You cannot stop something that is already done,” Henry said. “Let us run it through some trials and then you can try and sell it to whoever you want.”
“No one is going to buy this,” Doctor Stein said.
“The military applications alone...” Henry stood up and waved his arms around.
“Yes, but in today's current climate, with The One…” Doctor Stein tried to explain. “The debate over if a cyborg is required to join The One would be enough of a conflict. You did good work. Fantastic work, but the world isn't ready right now. So we'll shelve the project till it is. Meanwhile, there are plenty of other very interesting things to work on.”
Henry took in a breath and lied, “Yes, I suppose that’s a logical way to look at it. My work won't magically vanish; it'll be there ready and waiting.”
“Yes, yes, Henry,” Doctor Stein smiled. “I'm happy that we could see eye to eye on this.”
The two of them shook hands, and Henry walked out of the office. He headed directly for the elevator to the sublevels. Stein was an idiot, and Henry thought himself stupid for thinking he could change the man’s mind, especially when it was much easier to use deceit. No one understands how frustrating it is to be revolutionary. Henry was so ahead of his time that the world didn't even know they wanted what he was creating. He was like a Da Vinci amongst caveman. His genius should go down in history. And not ten years from now. Right now. Before any other scientist had an inkling of an idea close to what he had done. He was not like one of the other million people in white coats who just worked hard and eventually got things done given enough time. He was better than that.
Henry stormed out of the elevator and into the labs.
“You, you and you, with me,” he pointed to three of the scientist he considered to be most lacking in ethics. Henry led them into his office and shut the door. “Do you want to be remembered forever?” He asked, but it was rhetorical because who didn't. “Maybe in your time you will create something that will revolutionize the world, maybe not. Right here, right now I have already done it. All you need to do to have your name next to mine is do what I tell you.”
The three scientists looked at each other to gauge their answers. Then each nodded.
“Prep for an operation, get the parts for a type three transplant and kick everyone out who is not going to help.”
He supposed he could have found a volunteer, but if something went wrong, he preferred not to go to prison for murder. Besides, it would look as if he had no confidence in his work. There was no reason not to have the procedure performed on himself. The operation was outlined to the smallest detail. As long as the doctors were mildly competent then there wouldn’t be a problem. Nevertheless, Henry wasn't foolish enough to not plan for the worst. He backed up all of his notes and updated his will. When he was done, he changed into a hospital gown and went to the operating theater. The room was as big as an actual theater. It had to be, especially with the amount of equipment they needed.
Henry lay down on the table and let the nurse place the IV. His carotid artery was tapped, and blood began cycling through a machine. In a minute, he’d fall into a chemically induced coma. The last thing he remembered was the nurse shaving his head. The neural implant lay on a tray next to him. Its central processor was the size of a walnut with a web of wires sprouting from it. When he was unconscious, one of the doctors marked a line on Henry’s skull while another grabbed a saw. A second group cracked Henry's chest open. They began working on replacing his body parts. The team pulled him apart like a broken clock, piece by piece. Several machines were brought in to work as temporary organs while the real ones were replaced. After the organs were substituted, they would move on to replacing limbs. Three doctors and seven nurses worked in around the clock shifts for three days. Eventually Doctor Stein found them, and he was left with little choice but to let them finish.
One Week Later
Henry woke neither feeling hazy or confused. His new body had processed out all the drugs that he had been given. The neural implant sped up his cognitive process, so thoughts and concepts came faster to him. He knew he was in the recovery room. He knew he had been unconscious for a week. He also knew that the operation hadn't gone perfectly. There had been flaws in the software coding. A small oversight, but it had multiple minor failures and one big one; he couldn’t move his body.
“I didn't believe them that you'd wake up just like that,” A man, a little younger than himself, was standing next to the bed.
Henry had known he was there before he saw him. He also knew the man's name was Robert Day, a Sergeant with The One. A secondary scan initiated and Henry registered low levels of radiation from within the Sergeant. Turning his head, he spotted another person in the room. A woman; she had been born in Africa, with a recent American education. Her name was listed as Anne Marie Godfrey, a Corporal.
“Yeah,” Henry responded, “If only I could turn on a woman the same way.” There was something odd about what he had just said, but he couldn’t place it. Henry started running a self-diagnostic. He could see his arms in his peripheral vision; the version seven models. Most of the joints had been eliminated, removing the chance of them locking up due to dirt or lubrication issues. Henry had updated the complex metal fiber weave so that it flexed and tightened to bend the fingers and arms. A blanket covered his legs, but they would be of the same design. And they would all be attached to his torso, which was still composed of his original living matter, on the outside at least. His diagnostic had already checked on the synthetic organs pumping inside him. There was no other reason to keep the trunk intact, other than to prove he could keep living flesh viable after the transplant. Henry’s head and brain were mainly organic tissue as well. Without looking, he knew his skull would be a criss cross of stitches where they implanted the miniaturized super computer. This was when his diagnostic came to a stop. The entire process took only a few seconds.
Robert was still laughing at the joke. “We were sent here from The One to determine if you're a Super-Human,” he told Henry.
“But you're not SHT,” Henry said. He was concurrently downloading every known fact about The One and the officers standing in his room.
“No, this is a special project,” Robert told him. “So how are you feeling?”
“Other than the paralyzed thing, peachy,” Henry said and then looked confused. “Sorry, I'm not sure why I'm being so blithe.”
“You're the one who can't move,” Robert replied. “Be as blithe as you want.”
“No,” Henry explained. “I mean I never used to act like this. It must have to do with the software errors.”
Doctor Stein came into the room at that moment. He folded his arms across his chest and looked angrily at Henry. “It’s because you’re an arrogant idiot,” Doctor Stein said.
“I suppose that would do it,” Henry quipped. “Damn it, I can't stop saying these things.”
“At least he lost that annoying accent,” Doctor Stein said. “Have you decided to take him yet? The sooner, the better.”
“Not yet,” Robert replied. “We can't call him Super-Human if he can't get out of bed.”
“That's a simple procedure,” Hen
ry cut in. “The programming needs to be updated. I kind of forgot to install the stuff about basic voluntary processes. Sometimes I can get a little forest from the trees.”
“Let me know if you're taking him,” Doctor Stein said to Robert. “Otherwise I'll have to burn more money on this idiot.”
Doctor Stein left slamming the door as he went.
“You know his full name is Doctor Victor Franklin Stein?” Henry said.
Robert started laughing, and Henry joined in while Angie stood in the corner quietly. The men looked at her, and she stared back.
“I don't get it,” Angie said and that made them laugh harder. “Can we complete the exam now?”
“The Colonel gave us two days,” Robert said to her, “Relax a bit, Angie.”
“There are better things we can be doing,” she said.
“Better than getting the world's greatest genius and cyborg up and running?” Henry asked. “I'm assuming The One is willing to put in the cash to get me on their team? I'll need access to a supercomputer to do the reprogramming, and I already have ideas for some upgrades. In fact, I think I'm going to change the operating system altogether.”
“I need to make a call,” Robert said then motioned Angie to follow him.
When they stepped outside, Doctor Stein was waiting for them. “So what do you think?” He asked.
“It feels wrong,” Robert answered.
“But useful,” Angie added.
“The man was a self-righteous ass,” Doctor Stein said. “The reprogramming made him a better man.”
“Still, playing God isn't what The One is about,” Robert was uncomfortable with the entire situation.
Doctor Stein had notified The One as soon as he found out what Henry had done. Somehow the report had gone across Colonel Porter's desk. He contacted Stein directly and asked one question, ‘Can he be reprogrammed?’ The answer was yes, and he sent Robert and Angie to verify.