Ocean in the Sea Read online

  Checking his mail over a bowl of cereal, he saw a confirmation request for his security clearance. Majutay Radionics had completed a… background investigation? Lewis curled his upper lip and pinched his brow. He hadn’t agreed to that! They’d approved his presence during the operation, but there were a slew of disclaimers and agreements to sign. An NDA was bad enough, but this was far more extensive.

  Did it matter? He had nothing to hide. They’d find out about his autism, and they’d learn about the year he’d spent in juvenile custody on erroneous charges. All things he would have preferred to have kept private, but they were also things that anyone might discover with a little digging. It was all a matter of record. Skimming the legalese, he marked his approval and added digital signatures. It felt wrong, but there was really no choice, and caring about it only made it worse, so he determined not to care. Sometimes the shield of apathy was the only real defense. Fortunately, he was an expert at its operation. Without it, he’d have killed himself a long time ago.

  Arriving at work an hour later, he went straight to his cubical and docked his laptop. His watch buzzed before he could sit down. It was Graves. He answered the call on his phone for privacy. “Hello?”

  “Herman, where are you? It’s nine o’clock. Get down here. You’re holding us up. Logan will meet you at the door.”

  Lewis felt sick to his stomach. “Now?”

  “Yes NOW.”

  “On my way.”

  Grabbing his duffel bag, Lewis rushed to the elevator. Graves hadn’t said what time they were starting. Nine in the morning seemed a little early, but Graves was unpredictable, chaotic, and obsessive. He operated on his own schedule. That was going to make working with him difficult. If there was one think Lewis hated, it was being late, particularly when he had no control over it.

  Logan waited on the other side of the airlock with his arms folded. He tapped his foot while Lewis tugged the rubber suit on. Opening the door from the other side, the animal-handler slammed loudly it shut as soon as Lewis stepped through.

  “About fricken time, Herman. I can’t stand here all day. They get testy when they know one of‘em is in the chair.”

  “Sorry. No one told me when to be here!”

  The sound of shrieking chimpanzees echoed through off the walls. Logan hefted his electric prod while they walked down the aisle of cages, and the chimps grew silent. Dozens of dark eyes followed them. Lewis stared back.

  “Avert your eyes,” barked Logan. “A stare, or a smile, those are threatening. To a chimp, they say, ‘I’m better than you. Let’s fight.’ And these ain’t happy primates. Especially the ones Doctor Mayuu’s been working on. Did Graves tell you about Mayuu’s work?”

  “No.”

  “That ain’t surprising. Graves has a one-track mind and Mayuu’s stuff is classified. I’m not allowed to talk about it, but I will say this – it hasn’t done anything for the temperament of these animals. You’ll see what I mean. She’s here today, and she’s running one of her procedures.”

  “Yes. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Right.” Logan growled in his throat. “Tell me that afterwards.”

  Lewis pondered the odd response as they reached the end of the second aisle, approaching one of the huge plastic bubbles. Four hazy figures moved inside, their outlines warped by the plastic dome. Logan showed him how to access the flimsy zipper-lock and Lewis climbed inside. A woman and two men dressed in yellow suits similar to Lewis’s stood at stations monitoring electronics. Another woman sat on a stool next to the chair administering a chimp. Strapped in place, and held by metal restraints, the chimpanzee glared back with hate-filled eyes. Lewis assumed it was hatred given the circumstances. It gnawed on a black rubber block with its teeth and struggled to move, but the clamps held it fast.

  “Mister Herman!” Doctor Graves smiled at him. “Let me introduce you.” He gestured to the woman at the computer console. “This is Doctor Mayuu, our Neurobiologist. She’s been examining some of the interesting side-effects of our process. And this is Doctor Ferrance, an expert in Radiology. The woman next to the subject is Doctor Smiff, our Veterinarian. She handles sedation afterwards.”

  More new people – too many all at once. Taking a deep breath, Lewis raised an eyebrow. “The monkey isn’t sedated during the scan?”

  “No, no,” said Graves. “We need the subject fully lucid or we won’t get the results we’re looking for. You see, I haven’t been exactly forthright with you in regards to our goals. I only received your clearance last night. Had to wait for the ahh… the board to approve you. With that taken care of, we can let you in on our little secret. Stand over there, if you would please.”

  Lewis took the indicated position next to Doctor Smiff. “So what’s the secret?”

  “You will see,” replied Doctor Mayuu in a thick Indian accent. “Seeing is easier than explaining.”

  Doctor Smiff, a big-boned blond woman, looked Lewis up and down. “If you’ve got anything electronic, put it in the box over there. It’s just a precaution. The scanner emits a strong magnetic field. It’s localized, but there’s always some bleeding, and integrated circuits are sensitive.”

  “Alright.” Lewis pulled out his cell phone, his wireless pen, and his watch. “That’s everything.” He shut the lid.

  “Let us be starting then,” said Doctor Mayuu. “Graves likes titles,” she told Lewis. “I think them cumbersome. You may call me Shruti. Doctor Smiff prefers to be called Mindy. Doctor Ferrance goes by Larry. And Doctor Graves we only call Doctor Graves because he likes to stand on his protocol. We will call you Lewis, unless you prefer Mister Herman, which Doctor Graves will call you regardless.”

  “Damn unprofessional,” complained Doctor Graves.

  Lewis shrugged. “Lewis is fine. What should I be looking for?”

  “We will explain as we are going. It will not be immediately apparent.” Stabbing her index finger down on her keyboard, Shruti hit the enter key. “Shields are active. Starting DRT rotation cycle.” The screen lit up with red blocky graphs. Indicators slowly climbed upward in time with a deep throbbing hum from the cylinder. A piston hissed and the chair rose. The chimp’s eyes widened further. Its head vanished into the base of the scanning cylinder.

  “Begin the injection,” said Doctor Graves.

  Mindy twisted a dial on one of the plastic tubes running into the chimp’s arm. “12 milligram drip beginning now.” She checked the clock on her computer screen.

  “Um, just curious, but won’t these computers get fried?” asked Lewis.

  “They’re shielded,” replied Doctor Graves. “Not to worry. These were specifically designed for this environment. The military-grade cases were made to withstand an EMP blast. The technology dates back to the cold war. I’ll go over the specs with you later if you like. The monitors are mostly organic materials. The AMOLED displays and composite resins are…”

  “Doctor Graves,” interrupted Shruti. “Please focus. Larry, the dynamos are almost powered. Do you have the schema loaded? I am wanting 323588 for the first shot. Neural induction set to .432 microvolts. Set and hold for three seconds only.”

  “Ready,” said Larry.

  “In two, three, one, now.”

  Larry’s finger clicked a key. The machine buzzed loudly and chimp’s limbs trembled. Hands and feet clenched. The three seconds seemed to last a minute, then the buzz stopped with a click, and a long whine followed, slowly dropping in pitch and amplitude until the bubble grew silent.

  No one spoke. The doctor’s stared at their screens. Lewis looked in confusion at the mass of interconnected lines and dots. “Neurons?” he asked Doctor Ferrance.

  “Indeed,” said Larry. “Look here. These are superclusters in the occipital lobe.” He rotated the image. “And this is the hippocampus. See the relationship? There’s direct mapping. The synapses are in motion. They’re re-routing.” He hit another key and the screen changed to a glowing map of flowing lights over the chimp’s brain. “Here
it is in realtime. It will take a few minutes before things settle down.”

  “But… why?” asked Lewis. “I mean… what did you do? What’s it supposed to do?”

  “It’s a movie,” said Doctor Graves. “A beautiful beautiful move, Mister Herman. Do you like it? This is how a brain looks when it’s learning something. Memories, Mister Herman.”

  “Oh, just tell him,” snapped Mindy. “I hate this drama.”

  “Not yet,” said Shruti. “Over here, Lewis.” She pointed to a monitor showing a long scrolling list of information.

  “XML?” asked Lewis.

  “UML, in fact,” replied Shruti. “The data is mapped to a neural algorithm specific to the individual simian. This one, subject 84, was implanted last week. The goal of this procedure is to test for retention and corruption.”

  Lewis blinked in surprise. “So you’re using their minds as… storage devices?”

  “YES!” Doctor Graves stabbed his index finger upward. “This is stage one of the project. Stage two involves actual programming. Information alone would be interesting and useful, but ultimately nothing more than a trick of science. Being able to use the brain to perform calculations is the next step.” He nodded to Doctor Ferrance. “Run the diff.”

  “Already done,” said Larry. He squinted at his screen and moved his hand to adjust his glasses, banging his hand against the plastic face shield instead. With a sigh, he raised his head. “No corruption. 100% verification. It’s a perfect match.”

  “Excellent.” Doctor Graves grinned. “Subject 84 is ready for phase 2.” He turned to Doctor Smiff. “Make the arrangements. Professor Sandaw is waiting.”

  “Of course,” said Mindy.

  “I’ll leave you to test the next four subjects then,” said Graves. Looking over at Lewis he added, “I have more to show you, Mister Herman. The others don’t need me here. They already know the drill. We do this twice a week, or whenever Phase 2 runs out of subjects. Retrieve your electronics and come with me.”

  Lewis gathered his phone, watch, and pen from the box. Following Doctor Graves out of the bubble, he stayed close. Logan escorted them through the aisle of cages. The monkeys seemed even more agitated. Logan ran his rod over a couple of cages, resulting in an electrical discharge. The enraged simians instantly hopped to the back of their cages where they stood on small wood planks bolted to the floor.

  “That’s right, you bastards,” spat Logan. “Shut the Hell up.”

  “Why does the procedure make them angry?” Lewis asked Doctor Graves.

  “It’s the amygdala. Part of the process heightens their emotional responses. It also appears to evoke a certain amount of pain. And then there’s sympathy. Or perhaps there is. Doctor Smiff believes they feel sorry for their fellow chimps. I can’t say much in that regards. I’m no animal psychologist.”

  “They’re in pain?”

  “A headache, Mister Herman. The process is extremely taxing on the brain. Rerouting synapses causes an increase in cranial pressure and blood flow. It’s temporary, but it can have debilitating effects. Strokes can result. That’s how I lost subject 67 last week. She suffered a rupture in the left anterior cerebellar artery.”

  “They don’t like it,” said Logan. “And they remember. They know what’s happening to them.”

  “Does it make them smarter?” asked Lewis. “I mean, do they know the information you’re sticking in their heads?”

  Doctor Graves laughed. “No, not at all. They have no way to relate to it. They have a limited conception of language to begin with. They’re probably not even aware of the data. It’s what they lose that’s the biggest concern. We have to be careful where we store the information. There’s a lot of space available in the cerebral cortex, but we can’t touch the thalamus, the brain stem, or the cerebellum. As much as we’d like to use those areas, particularly the thalamus, whenever we make the attempt, the subject loses involuntary control over metabolism. We had one chimp suffer heat stroke that way. The motor cortex is off limits too. At least… in the beginning.”

  “In the beginning?”

  “You’ll understand soon.”

  Lewis bit his lip. Graves was excited and talking fast, but that seemed normal for him. Lewis wondered how much of this information he could write about. A tiny pulse of anxiety ran through him. “I thought the goal of this project was to create a non-invasive brain scanner? What you’re doing is… way beyond that.”

  “That’s the cover, yes, and it’s how this all started, but it’s not your real topic. The people that read your documents, Mister Herman, will have the highest levels of clearance. It will not be your typical audience. Unfortunately, I’m not able to tell you who they are.”

  “I would imagine.” Simultaneously intrigued and dismayed, Lewis wasn’t sure how to react. What had he gotten himself into? They entered the airlock and began taking their suits off. “How long has this been going on? I mean, how did you end up switching from building a brain scanner to a brain… um… programmer?”

  “Eight years now. Once the Government learned of the side-effects, they took over our operations. Certain three-letter agencies in particular. At first, I was ready to give them a one-finger salute, but they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. You, on the other hand, are in a rather unique position, and if I were you, I’d make sure to keep my mouth shut and limit my internet access.”

  “They’re watching me?” Lewis swallowed nervously and stepped out of his boots. Thankfully, he hadn’t been in the suit long enough to soak his clothes.

  “It’s what they do,” muttered the Doctor. “It’s what they’ve always done.”

  “Should I be worried?” he asked. “How should I respond to this?”

  Graves raised one of his bushy eyebrows. “How do you feel now?”

  “A little irritated that none of this was revealed to me when I took the job.”

  “Then be irritated.”

  Graves opened the outer hatch and proceeded down the hall. Lewis stroked his chin, thinking about the advice. Yes, he decided he should be irritated, but more importantly, he should be worried. Brenda would have been worried for him. She would have told him to quit the job and find something else. She never trusted the government. But he wasn’t Brenda. His emotions weren’t always correct, and he couldn’t trust them.

  It was an interesting conundrum. He couldn’t trust himself to determine whether or not to trust his employers, and they apparently trusted no one. The resulting determination was to follow their example. He shouldn’t trust anyone either, including them. That was how he would proceed, but that could be difficult without falling into paranoia, which he absolutely refused to do. Paranoia required too much energy. Act trusting, he decided, but don’t trust. Accept their viewpoints, even if they appeared incorrect. Refrain from judging their actions. Delay and make a full analysis later.

  Graves stopped at a door across and down the hall. The big blocky letter read B2G. Red lettering on the door stated, “Warning. Restricted Access Level 3.” Slipping his card over the electronic reader, Graves waited as a panel opened and a light flashed over his face. The door clicked once and opened. The room on the other side was large and empty with a concrete floor and a reflective mirror on one wall.

  Entering and closing the door, they waited for the inner door to open. After a second, a short woman in a lab coat appeared. She was mousy looking with black horn-rimmed spectacles and her hair tied up in a bun. The corners of her mouth turned down in a disapproving look.

  “Doctor Graves,” she said. “I was expecting you later. Aren’t you supposed to be supervising the formatting?”

  “The others can handle it, Doctor Trent. They’ve done it many times, and they don’t need me there. This is Mister Herman.”

  “Hello.” Lewis held out his hand.

  Doctor Trent shook it hesitantly and wiped her palm on her hip. “Good to meet you, Mister Herman. Welcome to Stage 2. We don’t get many visitors, so today is a little unusual for us.
” She glanced at Graves. “The Chairman is here.”

  Doctor Graves opened his eyes wide. “Really!? He isn’t due for another week. This is unfortunate. Would you like us to reschedule?”

  “No. He wants to meet Mister Herman after Professor Sandaw completes his report.” She held out her hand toward the open door. “Inside, please. The alarm will go off if we keep the door open.”

  Graves looked at Lewis. “Security.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  Through the inner door, Lewis found himself in a long hall. From behind, he came to the sudden realization that Doctor Trent was attractive. It was difficult to tell through her long white lab coat, but when she moved, the fabric caught against the sway of her hips. With her glasses off and her hair down, she would be beautiful. Or was it because she looked a little like Brenda? He quickly forced the thought aside.

  Pressing her card key against a reader, Trent led them into a laboratory filled with tables, beakers, microscopes, bottles of liquids, centrifuges, and all manner of electronics. Lewis stared around, trying to identify some of the equipment from his previous work. Then a large cylinder caught his eye. He stopped and stared.

  Sitting in the center of the room surrounded by a doughnut-shaped ring of black metal and wires, a plexiglass tower filled with brains rose nearly to the ceiling. Just to the right of it, the body of a chimpanzee lay on a brushed metal table. Tubes and wires ran over the inert body. Crimson sponges soaked with blood lay scattered around the corpse. The top of its skull had been removed. The cranium was empty.

  “You took its brain.” Lewis blinked and turned to the cylinder. “Why?”

  “To integrate it,” said a dusky-skinned man from the other side of the room. Marching over, he smiled, but did not offer his hand. He wore rubber gloves, still bloody from the operation. “I’m Professor Sandaw. Welcome to the horror show. Do you have a strong stomach?”

  “I do.” Lewis cleared his throat, not because he needed to, but because he felt there needed to be a pause before he changed the subject. “I’m not here to judge. I’m only here to gather information.”