Echo- First Pulse

by C Scott Frank

  Lincoln turned to watch his friend sprint out of the room and down the corridor.

  Day 362 - 12:14

  “Okay Doctor, you’ve been holed up in your lab for two days. It’s about time you tell us what in the solar system is going on.” Keri’s voice caught Lincoln by surprise. He turned away from the nebula picture as Damien entered the dining hall where the rest of the team had been assembled for the last half hour.

  The dining hall was the most conveniently located room with enough space for all of them to meet on the station. Lincoln also figured it would help his team to let down their guards a little bit. He had been once again counting the stars in the mundane nebula picture on the wall while he waited for his friend to join them. The doctor had called this meeting, and he was nearly fifteen minutes late.

  “I’ve figured it out.” His friend stood tall, beaming, and clean shaven. Lincoln suspected that was the cause of his tardiness.

  “Well it’s about bloody time,” Gibbs said in his best mock British accent. Lincoln wasn’t impressed, and judging by the look on Damien’s face, neither was he.

  “Ignore him,” Lincoln said. “What have you found?”

  “Okay,” Damien began. “I’ll try and explain as best I can. The brain, as you well know, is a complex organ. Very complex. But, at its core, it is simply a conduit for minute electrical current. That’s how our entire nervous system is wired.”

  Lincoln crossed his arms. “Sure, we all know this.”

  “Of course,” Damien replied. “The way our brain interacts with the rest of our body is through transmitting instructions through our nerves by using this current. In oversimplified terms, it’s not all that dissimilar to how a computer shares instructions with its members through the binary language. Where a one is representative of power flipped on, and a zero is representative of power turning off. In layman’s terms, our brain does very much the same thing. By firing neurons in certain patterns, our body can interpret those impulses as instruction, and your arm moves. Have I lost anyone yet?”

  “I think I understand,” Edward said. “So it’s reasonable to assume that the implants each one of these clones have embedded within their brain transmits information this way?”

  “Right. It is quite reasonable to assume that.” Damien affected a wry smile. Lincoln tolerated his friend’s theatrics, though his patience was wearing thin. “But that assumption is wrong.”

  “Okay, get to it,” Gibbs said.

  “So our brain fires neurons, like tiny electrodes, and our nervous system can interpret these electrical spikes in neuron firing, and do something with it. This is testable. We naturally assumed the clones would behave the same exact way. We were wrong.

  “Our little brothers and sisters out there, while biologically similar, conduct information in an entirely different manner. From studying our past tests, I’ve been able to reach some reasonable conclusions. It would appear their nerve conduction is a bit more, shall I say, refined than our own. The neurons inside their brain share information by modulating the width and amplitude of the current within the small electric impulses.”

  “You’re talking about pulse width modulation?” Edward asked. “That’s really something.” The man had a new wonder in his eyes at the idea. Lincoln feared his eyes showed only sleep deprivation.

  “Yes,” Damien replied. “It is similar to that. You can thank Lincoln for the tip.” He gestured at Lincoln, who simply shrugged and waved for Damien to continue.

  “Somehow,” Damien obliged, “their synapses have been developed in such a way as to read and understand minute changes within the electrical current of the neuron spikes, and I assume, the harmonics governed by the modulation.”

  “Okay, so we know how they think,” Lincoln said. He wanted to get to the point. He needed answers. “What do we do about it?”

  “Well, that’s the trick isn’t it? To my knowledge, no one has thought about applying pulse width modulation to organically computed interpretation. It’s a completely new idea. A novel concept. The possibilities are thoroughly intriguing. Imagine communicating at the pace of binary, but with twice the resolution? Three times as much? The possibilities are overwhelming.”

  “Yes, yes,” Edward jumped in excitedly. “The idea of sending intricate and incredibly long packets of information in a fraction of the time as using standard binary is… well, it’s unprecedented. Organic computing is already orders of magnitude faster than solid state, but if we can harness this kind of pattern…” He seemed to trail off in a daydream. “We have much to learn, just imagine—”

  “That’s fine, we can all go home and write textbooks about it later, but how does all of this help us now?” Lincoln had been content to let his team talk all of this out thus far, but he was ready for action. It had been over two weeks since he had talked to the man in the black suit. He felt pinpricks down his spine at the notion of that man coming down on the station—a reaper collecting his dues.

  “Right, sorry,” Damien replied, doubling down on his notes. “This tells us much about our enemy. Unfortunately, it will take time to learn how to communicate this way. But I think I know why the clones are dying. By trying to communicate with strict binary protocols, we were essentially applying brute force electrical impulses to a finely tuned system developed for elegant communication. With every test, we are quite literally blowing their circuits.”

  Emily gasped. Her normally bright demeanor seemed to cloud and her shoulders slouched. “That’s why they convulse.” A gravity settled into her expression. “If what you’re saying is true, we’re basically causing the body to electrocute itself.”

  “That’s exactly right,” Damien confirmed, eyes darkened with the sobering truth.

  “My word,” Emily sat down, trembling. “What have we done? Dr. Fuller, do you think they could feel it?”

  “I hope to God they couldn’t. It would feel like a million wildfires covering everything both inside and outside the body.” At this, Emily began to tear up. Lincoln shifted uneasily, both at her emotional breakdown and the idea of what Damien had just shared. This would kill the morale of the team.

  “Okay, we need to focus.” Lincoln rubbed his eyes. Whether from the weight of their deeds or from ingesting so much information, he wasn’t sure. “I’m familiar with pulse width modulation as a concept and technique in electrical design, but how can we modify our process to be able to communicate with the clones? What can we do to close that gap?”

  “You’re not going to like this,” Damien said. “We need to wake one of them up.”

  Lincoln scrutinized his friend, looking for the joke. They had orders. Waking clones up willy-nilly wasn’t included. Sure it wasn’t forbidden… but it was common sense. Damien’s eyes betrayed no humor, however.

  Lincoln sighed. Time was running short. The team needed to produce some answers, and this was the first solid lead they’d had. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

  Day 363 - 08:23

  “If we’re going to do this, you need one of these.” Lincoln opened a small black safe. He pulled out a silver handgun, checked that it was ready to fire and handed it to Keri.

  Keri felt the unfamiliar weight of the weapon. “It’s been a long time since boot camp, Lincoln. We’ll have to pray it doesn’t come to this. Emily and I have selected a candidate to bring out of stasis.”

  “Where is the rest of the team?”

  “They’re sequestered in the mess for now, in case things go south.”

  “That’s good. You and I are the only ones here with military backgrounds. It’ll fall to us to keep the rest of the team safe. We are way off protocol here.”

  “You’re right, but I hope to God we’re making the right call.”

  “They’re breathing down my neck, Keri, I have no choice.” Lincoln pulled a gun for himself from the safe. “We’ve been here for almost a year and what do we have to show for it?”

  “We’re getting closer. You know that. The doctor and Emily are making
strides.” She followed Lincoln out of his small bunk room and down the hall.

  “I know, Keri, I know. That’s why I’m trusting him with this crazy plan. Let’s just hope we don’t need these.” Lincoln nodded at the gun in Keri’s hand as the pair stalked down the gray hall. Lincoln wasn’t convinced that waking up a clone would be the best idea, but he knew their options were limited. The man in the black suit had made his expectations clear. Lincoln grimaced at the demands placed upon his team.

  The two of them reached the lift at the end of the corridor. As they waited for the lift to meet them, Lincoln considered the task at hand. He’d never been given explicit orders to not wake a clone up, but the implication had been clear enough. They shouldn’t take chances. Not only were the clones bred for a singular purpose—killing humans—but the scientists up top weren’t sure if their communication was one-way or if the clones could report back anything of interest. Best to not take the chance. On the other hand, it was often said that most clones didn’t even know they were clones.

  That left Lincoln with a problem. He didn’t like not knowing what to expect. As the lift doors opened, he decided to try optimism on for size. Maybe the clone they planned to wake wouldn’t be violent after all. At any rate, the team should be careful about getting into any kind of shootout on the station. “Put that away until we need it.” Lincoln stepped into the lift.

  Keri tucked the handgun underneath her belt and followed Lincoln. They entered the small cylindrical vehicle and Lincoln keyed the button for the storage level. The feeling of weightlessness marked the descent as the pod slid downward on the safety railing. After a few moments of what felt like freefall, the lift beeped to indicate they had arrived at the desired floor. The door opened to a startled looking Zachary Gibbs walking toward the lift.

  “Zachary?” Keri gasped. “What are you doing down here?”

  “My morning jog, obviously.” Gibbs chuckled, patting his large gut. “But really, I uh, I thought you guys were going to wake one of the clones up, so I was going to meet you down here to see how it went.”

  “You’re supposed to be in the mess with the rest of the team,” Keri said.

  “I thought you guys might need help with the console. You know, just in case.” Gibbs’ eyes danced from the ground to Lincoln’s and back. Never to Keri.

  “Are there any problems we should be worried about?” Lincoln asked.

  “Well, you never know,” Gibbs said, eyes still shifting.

  “Is there a flaw in the design or something you should be telling us?” Lincoln stepped off the lift, closer to the man.

  “A flaw? Please. I designed this system. Do you know anyone else who can churn out the amount of code that I’ve written in the last year? I’ve solved problems you guys would have never dreamed of—safety checks down every possible blockchain. There’s no flaws in my software.”

  “Remind me what you’re doing down here, then?” Keri asked, stepping up to match Lincoln.

  “I like to check all the stasis pods once in awhile. I helped design that software too, you know. Just quality control.”

  “I thought you wanted to help us?” Lincoln asked. Gibbs had walked into a trap.

  “That’s part of it. I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t have any surprises is all,” Gibbs said. “Look, I just remembered I’m supposed to play a game of chess with Ed this morning, so I’ll go ahead to the mess.” Gibbs pushed past Keri and Lincoln and squeezed into the lift behind them.

  “You’re to stay in the mess with the rest of the team, understand? No one leaves,” Lincoln said.

  “Yea, sure, whatever man.” Gibbs shifted his weight. “I’ll tell everyone.” The lift door closed leaving Lincoln and Keri alone in the corridor.

  “Did he seem off to you? I don’t buy that at all.” Keri asked.

  “Gibbs is always off, Keri.” Lincoln turned toward the storage room. “But you’re right, something is up.”

  “Has Gibbs ever bothered to come down here?” Keri’s long legs made easy work of matching Lincoln’s pace.

  “No. He hasn’t. But we have a bigger concern here.”

  They entered the large storage chamber. The room was mostly occupied by large cylindrical pods and heavy wiring. Each pod had an assortment of wires running to it, and a large display mounted near the head. The display showed various measurements for monitoring the condition of the inhabitants. Many of the displays were blank, indicating that those pods were empty. The shuttles usually exchanged the empty pods with the pods that they delivered, but the most recent shuttle still had no pilot, so empty pods filled the room.

  Eleven of the pods had displays scrolling an endless stream of technical and biological information. The clones who inhabited the pods lay still and silent, visible through the slightly frosted glass under the subtle glow of the overhead lighting. Lincoln absently wondered if this was not unlike how the clones had begun their life in the first place: waking up in a sterile tube, disoriented and confused. Of course, no one really knew what the clones experienced in their early life, but it was interesting to imagine anyway. Now he and Keri would be waking one of these clones up, asking them questions, and possibly putting them in mortal danger.

  Like any good scientist, Lincoln desperately tried not to think about the moral ramifications of their objective. It was hard—almost impossible—to stay completely objective when looking at these peaceful, sleeping faces.

  His own tired face peered back at him in a faint reflection on the glass. He shifted his weight so his face lined up with the sleeping clone’s and wondered how different they were. He sighed, resigning himself to his duty and his mission.

  Lincoln pulled out his handgun and checked the weapon once more to make sure it was ready to fire. “Well, Keri, where do we begin?”

  Day 363 - 08:41

  “How long do they want us to stay locked up in here?” Emily asked nobody in particular. The team, sans Keri and Lincoln, waited in the mess hall with the door sealed. Emily tapped a pen on the table.

  “Until they’re sure it’s safe.” Damien busied himself with fixing a cup of coffee. He preferred tea, like any good Brit, but the station only had coffee and water.

  “Yeah, because waking up one of our enemies is a hallmark of safe decisions,” Gibbs jeered over the chessboard.

  “I don’t think we need to worry about it.” Damien took a sip of his coffee. The drink was watered down, bitter, and too acidic. But it was better than nothing. Maybe. “The guy probably won’t even know he’s a clone. But we need to get some baseline readings of a conscious subject before we run another test.”

  “If I die on this station, I’ll kill you.” Gibbs smirked and Edward chuckled.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Damien responded and sat down with his datapad.

  “Learn to take a joke, man.” Gibbs slid a bishop up to take one of Edward’s knights. Edward smiled and moved his queen to take the bishop.

  “Check.”

  “I wish they would’ve included me,” Damien said. “I’d love to be there when he wakes up. Much to learn.”

  “Yeah, I bet—”

  “Emily.” The intercom in the room pierced the growing tension in the room, cutting off whatever Gibbs was going to say. “Emily, report to the lab, please.”

  Damien stood with a yawn. “Well, apparently it’s safe.”

  “Be sure to send us a postcard,” Gibbs said to Emily’s back as she left the room.

  “I hope this works. To be able to end the war without weapons of mass destruction… that’s the dream. No more humans have to die. Do you see the importance of what we’re doing here?” Damien smiled at Gibbs and Edward. A warm smile born of knowing that what they were doing was right. “We are saving lives. We could be saving millions of lives by our work here. Not only physically, but emotionally. Freeing these clones from the bondage of their masters, giving them license and freedom and their own rational thought. We are one step—”

  “Look, you
pompous Brit, before you get all sanctimonious.” Gibbs’ voice rose. “Try and remember that these are killers. They’re not wounded puppies in need of rescue—they kill women and children and destroy worlds, all in the name of some supposed ignorance? I don’t buy it.”

  “Why do you insist on bringing a fight? I simply imply that we are doing great works, that our team has importance, and you seize the opportunity to attack. It makes little sense.”

  “Because I can’t tolerate ignorance. It’s that simple.” Gibbs stood, almost knocking the chess pieces off the board. “You parade around like the paragon of morality and science, as if these clones weren’t bred for killing children. Whether they’re ignorant to their purpose or not, echoes are not innocent. Blood is on their hands. My fam—” he cleared his throat, his voice cracking. “Their blood is on your hands if you insist on handing out absolution like there’s no cost.”

  “Regardless of what might’ve—”

  “‘Might’ve?’ Don’t give me that.” Gibbs slammed a heavy fist on the table, knocking the recently captured bishop onto the floor. “‘Might’ve’ implies an if. There’s no if on the news when they share footage of burning moons and raining fire. ‘Might’ve’—” he waved an errant fist, nearly backhanding Edward.

  “Perhaps you should calm down a little,” Edward offered as he dodged the meaty hand.

  “Stay out of this, you camel—“

  “That’s quite enough!” Damien yelled at Gibbs before he could finish his racial slur. “Look, I’m sorry for whatever happened that hurt you so—”

  “I’m sure you are.”

  “—but you have to believe that we’re trying to right some wrongs here. We’re trying to fix this. One step at a time.”

  “And the clone in your lab? Which step is that?”

  “We don’t know anything about what happened. And we never will if we had your way. There’s simply no evidence that he’s a clone.”