“Well…” Jayne said, demurring. “I try.”
“But we just can't get around the final hurdle."
Jayne took a small sip and savored the spicy Barbera as it slipped down her throat. "Well, tell me about it—I'll be happy to help in any way that I can."
Myles swallowed and stared at the screen.
The chemical concoction that she’d dosed him with at the initiation meeting in Switzerland would likely have worn off by now, so she decided to find an excuse to re-administer it. He hadn’t been particularly all that good in bed but had performed enough to seal the deal. Jayne now had him exactly where she wanted him—his company was completely owned by her, his body was controlled by her, and his brilliant mind held prisoner. For all she could see, he was extremely devoted to his wife and business partner, the mousey little woman named Samantha. Now that Jayne had explicit video of him in that hotel suite in Geneva, he’d do whatever she asked to avoid ruining his marriage and his business.
Jayne smiled like a cat who just had cream for its dinner.
Myles adjusted his glasses and typed something on the keyboard in front of him. His image shrunk to a picture-in-picture window and was supplanted by charts and diagrams, with little schematics and squiggles containing ridiculously complicated equations.
Jayne waved her hand in front of her nose as if dispelling a foul odor. "I can't understand any of this nonsense. Tell me in layman's terms, not that insider-bullshit jargon."
Myles blinked, tapped on the keyboard again, and the schematics disappeared, replaced by a crude drawing.
"How much money did I give you?" Jayne demanded.
"Well, when you bought the company, it…it was—" he stuttered.
Jayne cut him off. “I paid more than enough for you to hire a decent artist to make up your proposal pictures. Jared, dear, this is disgraceful. It looks like a four-year-old drew this stuff…”
Myles leaned away from the camera and straightened his lab coat. "I did it myself…" he said, his voice rising with indignation.
“Well,” she said, smiling over her glass, “do us both a favor, hmm? Hire an artist next time. You’re a genius when it comes to AI research, so don't quit your day job."
"I…"
Jayne smiled again, swirling the wine in her glass. "That was a polite way of saying ‘carry on’.…" She raised both eyebrows when he simply stared at her. "Carry on,” she said, employing a more commanding tone.
"Yes. Yeah. Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, so the main problem we’re running into is we still can't get FDA approval—no m-matter what we try—for human testing. We got the coding right. I've got the equipment now. It's all been calibrated…but w-without a human subject…" He shrugged. "We can't map the neural network from a corpse—we t-t-tried that, it came out flat. It has to be a living subject."
Despite all that she'd seen in the last few days in Edinburgh, Jayne suppressed a shiver trickling down her spine. The idea of having one's head hooked up to the monstrous machine he created, to let a computer suck one’s brains out…
"The problem…" Myles said, as he slammed his fist on the table in a very uncharacteristic manner, causing the keyboard to jump and obscure her view of the lab behind him for a moment, "is the media! Everybody j-jumped on us when we first made the announcement…this process is supposed to be groundbreaking! Revolutionary! It's going to c-change everything! From Alzheimer's research to longevity experiments, it…I just…the potential is…" he waved his hands in frustrated silence.
Jayne frowned. No wonder his company had never really gotten off the ground. The man was a brilliant scientist and engineer, but he couldn't speak worth a damn, constantly stuttering and tumbling over tripping over his words. It was like his own tongue was getting in the way of his thoughts.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. She couldn't imagine how he must've flummoxed the major press release when the reporters started hammering him with questions about erasing people's minds and human-born AI’s rising up against humanity. It should've been a cakewalk—those questions are so old; the media never came up with anything new. They just rehashed the same things over and over again as if the people they reported to were simpletons. Well…
"So what's the problem?" she asked. "Don't worry about the reporters," she said quickly, with a wave of her hand. "I'll handle them. What I need to know is, what's the problem. What's holding you back from completing your research and getting this project off the ground?"
"We’ve run the simulations a hundred times—a thousand times—we've done everything we can from the computer. We have an empty shell of an AI right now. All the algorithms are there, the learning parts of the program," he added quickly.
Jayne stared at him, waiting.
He cleared his throat again. "Okay…so…how this works is…um…f-first we hook up the donor to the brainwave scanner," he said, turning to fiddle with something she couldn’t see on the screen. Jayne heard something crash off-camera and the image shifted, then he cursed and picked something off the floor. Holding it in front of the camera—too close, the entire thing was nothing but a blur—he continued speaking. "It's quite simple, really. I'm actually amazed I even came up with it. It just slips over your head, and these two tabs here connect to your temple. An external probe is then inserted—"
"Wait a minute, you want to put something inside someone's brain?" Jayne asked.
"No, not technically. The probe does drill through the skull at the temporal arch, but," he said, moving the blurry contraption away from the camera. He tapped a few keys, and a diagram of the human skull appeared, displaying the thickness of the bone compared to the thickness of the needle and drill assembly.
"You can see right here, this just goes barely under the surface of the skull. We don't actually tap into the brain. The nanowires—another ProTek innovation, I might add—are kind of like microscopic fiber-optic cables. They get pushed through the hollow needle here and embed themselves in the cerebral fluid surrounding the brain…here, there, and there. That's all we need to do."
Jayne swallowed, unable to hide the revulsion she felt at his idea of drilling something in the someone's mind. “But don’t you need to go deeper? I thought I saw that horrid sketch you put up a minute ago…”
He flushed, but continued. “Well, yes—but if you look closer, you’ll see that the wires we’ve developed are self-actuating. They g-grow.” He adjusted his glasses. “Basically.”
Jayne blinked. “How is that even possible?”
He grinned, for the first time looking handsome. “Welcome to the age of nanotech. We’ve known for a long time how to m-make machines that grow…well, sort of. They carry a thin elastic body that can unroll itself—”
“You’re talking about the emergency rescue drones they use for earthquakes…I’ve seen those.” She had in fact been the one who influenced the senior senator from California responsible for funding a black-ops project based on that device, years ago. Something Reginald had been looking into—she never learned why, but the contraption itself had fascinated her. It looked like a snake that just kept getting longer as it extended itself further and further into the tiniest spaces possible, all to search out and deliver air or water to trapped earthquake victims.
“The nanowires are actually coiled up at the molecular level. As the contact probe pushes further into the brain, it leaves behind a holo, one-molecule wide nanotube. We process the information f-from the neural synapsis through these tubes and import the data back to our mainframe.
She thought about it for a moment and realized she wasn't doing anything too different with her chemical-cocktail perfume, designed to open up the neural gateways of her targets’ brains and make them susceptible to her control. She took a sip of wine to give herself a moment to compose her thoughts while Myles rambled on.
At least I don't put something in their heads…Jesus.
“The whole surgical process only takes about t-two hours…we have an in
credibly fast mapping algorithm, but the fully extended probes take anywhere from two to three days to dissolve. Every brain is different, or at least that’s what we’ve found in rats. It's totally painless,” he quickly added, taking note of her expression, “the donor is unconscious the entire time and the extraction technique is simple. The nano-fiber tubes are organic and bio-degrade in less than a week. We’ve even developed a micro transceiver that will wirelessly upload the data in small chunks over several days or weeks. Eventually we want to perform the operation and release the patients to return to their lives. It’ll b-b-be as unobtrusive as possible. A true out-patient experience."
Jayne arched an eyebrow. "These nanotubes…they’re organic?"
Myles beamed like a kid on Christmas morning. "Yes…that's, that's—that's the whole genius of it all!" He pushed the glasses up his nose. "When the procedure’s complete, we remove the drill/needle attachment, the nanotubes stay in place, and after about a week—at most—they completely dissolve into organic proteins absorbed by the body! M-Most of its calcium, so in effect, the body uses the nanotubes and the nutrients in them to repair the hole in the skull that we created to install them in the first place!" He sat back in his chair, arms across his chest. “The transceiver has to be removed manually…” he added, with a shrug, “but it’s tiny…half the size of your pinky fingernail.”
“Well,” Jayne said, examining her finger, “I can’t imagine what the problem could be…”
"I can't get anyone to volunteer! We don't even need a healthy donor, even someone with a terminal cancer or something like that would do—as long as their brain is healthy…anybody, really. But the government wants to shut us down completely. It's r-r-ridiculous! We haven’t done anything near as vile as all those perfume companies running experiments on animals and c-cutting off rabbit ears and burning their skin with chemicals…all for the sake of making women feel like they need to be beautiful! What a load of crap."
Jayne smirked behind her wine glass. She took another long sip and drained it. After savoring the flavor for two long seconds, and letting Myles stew in his own thoughts, she put the empty glass on the table next to her computer with a soft clink.
"So,” she said at last, then licked her lips. “Why don't you have any test subjects?"
The scientist blinked at her like an owl, his eyes large behind his corrective lenses. I just told you, the FDA w-won't allow it. And the media is c-crucifying us. So we can’t get volunteers."
"You said this procedure only takes a couple hours, right?"
Myles nodded. "In fact, we're working on a prototype portable injection system...we wouldn't even need to bring the donor back to our lab. It could happen at any medical facility in the world capable of suitable restraining measures to keep the donor immobilized."
Jayne leaned forward then, making sure her camera got a view the scientist would not soon forget. "Then why haven't you just grabbed someone off the street and done it already, Jared? If you're so sure it's harmless, what's the big deal?"
“God…kidnapping? I never said harmless, just painless…”
"This is bleeding-edge science, dear. There's no room to be squeamish. Has anyone volunteered? Perhaps from your own company?"
Myles shook his head, but in the fraction of a second before he did, she saw his eyes flicker down and to the right. He was lying.
Anger welled up inside Jayne like a thunderhead over a Texas ranch in the summer. You’re lying to me. No one lies to me.
Jayne smiled, completely masking the fury that roiled inside her. "Come on now, you can't fool Miss Lisa. Tell me who volunteered. If you don't,” she said, her voice rising as if in song, “I'll send one of my associates to pay you a visit,” she teased. Then her voice dropped, hard as steel. “And they'll find out the truth for me."
Myles swallowed. He looked around to make sure the room behind him was empty. "It was…"
Jayne leaned closer to the screen. “Dear, come now…tell me. Do I need to make a personal visit?"
Myles jerked back from the camera as if stung. He shook his head and held his hands up in front of him. "No, n-no, that won’t be necessary. Look," he said pulling his chair back to the desk. "It was Samantha, my wife, okay? She volunteered. She's…"
“She’s what, dear?" Jayne asked, her voice sweet as honey.
Myles’ shoulders slumped, and he looked down. "She's got an unusual, early stage strain of…it’s a protein inhibitor disease. It's long-term, obviously, but this particular strain has proven terminal in the handful of other documented cases. Nobody really knows what it is—it's kind of…” He sighed. “It's like Alzheimer's, but different. It's a new kind of…well, the prion that’s eating holes in her brain…it's just, there's nothing we can do. Nothing. It's what spurred me on this path of research to begin with several years ago. I thought…"
Jayne nodded. Now we get the truth. She crossed her arms, making sure to lift her chest in the process. "You thought you could save her.”
“I know this won’t save her mind, but I thought maybe I could copy her mind, you know? Duplicate the essence of who she is, her memories, her experiences. Maybe create a fully functional sentient AI…”
Jayne arched an eyebrow. “Jared,” she breathed, “this sounds…”
“I know, it’s all very hand-wavy sci-fi…but I’m telling you, the process works. We can capture the data in a rat’s mind and store it indefinitely in a computer. We can even ‘see’ the rat’s memories using a visualization program. Put on a VR headset and you can become the rat. If…if it worked on Sam…it would mean she wouldn’t have to die so young…and I…I w-wouldn’t be alone.”
Jayne shook her head in feigned empathy. She honestly didn’t give two shits about Myles or his dumpy little wife, but he was right, if this technology worked, it might change everything.
“I understand the desire to save those that we love…" she said, her voice trailing off as memories of Reginald flashed through her mind.
"It's not just that. Can you imagine? If we were able to do this right, n-not only save the memories, but create a true sentient artificial intelligence containing all the donor’s t-thoughts, emotions, and experiences…t-translated from the chemical form—neurons and synapses—into the digital form of silicone and circuitry…this…it would n-not only create true AI, but it could transfer the human consciousness...” He stared at her, then whispered, “This could be the path to immortality."
That last word hung in the air between them, separated by 4,000 miles and several hidden fiber-optic networks and false relays. Jayne understood then the passion that this man felt, why he spent so many years of his life pursuing the vision, and—despite the love he felt for his wife—why he seemed on the verge of ruining his marriage. He was exhausted, pushing himself to the limit, all in an attempt to save her. To create new life. To give her immortality. A gift worthy of the best Greek tragedy.
Jayne cleared her throat, stepping back from the staggering possibilities he presented her. "Have you thought about what might happen if you succeed?" she asked in a quiet voice.
"Of course! It's not like we're erasing s-someone's mind here. T-they would wake up from the p-procedure and…hopefully go about their lives. But the AI we create from that mapping procedure would be here, in the lab, able to learn every possible thing they desire. Can you imagine being able to understand and know every scrap of human knowledge? Everything t-that's online, all of that information over the course of human existence, at y-your command with a mere thought?"
Jayne felt gooseflesh ripple across the exposed portions of her chest. The skin tightened in an all too familiar response to the rush of blood to her belly. The very idea was intoxicating.
"But would you feel anything if you were trapped inside a computer? Someone's kiss on your lips, wet sand under your feet, cool grass after a rain…could you smell, could you taste, could you hear? Why would someone want to…I don’t know what you call it—download their mind?"
Myl
es dismissed her questions with a casual gesture wave "Irrelevant. A-all of those are simple s-sensory inputs. Synthetic skin that can replicate pain and pleasure was developed d-decades ago, before The Pandemic. Sure, it helps amputees feel normal, but if you could combine t-that with an automated body…like a factory worker robot or something, then install my AI into it and wrap the whole thing in synthetic skin w-with all the sensory inputs that you wanted—why stop at two eyes? You can put optic s-sensors in the tips of fingers or the back of your head, or make hair out of fiber-optic nanotubes and completely encase the head in sensory inputs. The AI could easily handle all of this, where n-normal…human…might collapse and go insane.” He threw his hands up and leaned back in his chair. “Lisa, the p-possibilities are endless!"
“Well,” Jayne breathed, finding herself caught up in his stuttering excitement. “That’s something.”
He sighed and slumped back in his chair. "But that's the problem. I know I can get the AI functioning. I know it. We have s-several versions of a rudimentary non-sentiment AI already, here in the lab," he said, motioning over his shoulder. "They can talk and carry on conversations like anyone else, but they’re l-limited to programmed responses…they d-don't have the essence of what it means to be human. They can’t learn.”
“Learn?” asked Jayne.
“They don't have the adaptive nature that is in-in-innate in living organisms. That's what I'm—we’re—trying to capture with this new brain sampling technique."
Jayne shrugged. "Then why not let Sam do it?"
"Because…"
"You’re worried she’ll be harmed?"
"Ultimately, yes. We've done a few test runs with chimps…well, before we were shut down…they’re about as close as we can get to the human m-mind. They can use tools and—"
Jayne nodded. "I'm aware of what they can do. Go on."
"Well…it's…we've had a few failures.” He flushed, the color rising in his cheeks. “I mean c-catastrophic failures. The chimps literally went crazy. The problem was, it didn't happen after the procedure. It happened during the procedure. They were sedated,” he said quickly to forestall her questioning, “but t-they woke up and they ripped their straps off—which sh-sh-should have been impossible given the materials we used—and trashed the machines. They almost d-destroyed the secondary mapping chamber before we could terminate them."
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