Ocean in the Sea Read online

  Professor Sandaw laughed. “Of course you are here to judge, Mr. Herman. You can’t help it. Everyone judges. Everyone has an opinion. Let me answer some of your questions before you ask. It’s easier that way. First, these animals are fully sedated and their pain receptors are terminated prior to the operation. They feel nothing. Second, the research we do here will save lives. It is important to remember that. The sacrifice these animals make in the name of science is both appreciated and honored.” He pointed to the wall where a list of numbers ran in lines. “They have no names, only specimen IDs, but I remember them this way. Every day I light a candle and pray for them.”

  Lewis wondered stared at the candles.

  “Thirdly,” continued Professor Sandaw, “the bodies are disposed of in an incinerator, and their ashes are scattered over the ocean. So, you see, we are not cold clinical heartless people that take without giving something in return.”

  Doctor Graves looked away, muttering something under his breath about primitive superstition. Sandaw either didn’t hear, or chose to ignore it.

  “What about afterwards,” asked Lewis. He walked toward the cylinder of brains. “Do they feel anything now?”

  “A good question,” replied Professor Sandaw. “Without sensory nerve connections, we can assume they do not, but it is impossible to tell. Our neural scans do indicate a great deal of activity congruent with REM sleep, so one might say they are dreaming. What those dreams entail, I cannot imagine. Hopefully they are dreams of the jungle, and of fruit and other chimpanzees.”

  “Highly unlikely.” Graves scoffed at the suggestion. “They were raised in captivity. They’ve never seen the jungle. If they have dreams, it’s probably about Logan and his damn prod.”

  “Let us pray that is not the case,” replied Sandaw. “Would you like to see their output?” he asked Lewis. “Come, over here, this is the central interface. They’re networked into the mainframe, of course.”

  Staring at the monitor, Lewis watched a collage of information, graphs, charts, diagrams, and mathematical calculations. “What are they doing?”

  “One is calculating the value of Pi. That’s the newest brain – subject 34. We use that algorithm for calibration. The others are processing various problems, mostly geometric. We’ve been getting a handle on using the chimpanzee occipital lobe for object tracking. The results are promising.”

  “Are any of them writing documents?”

  Sandaw and Graves both laughed. Doctor Trent said nothing.

  “A hundred monkeys banging on a keyboard?” said Professor Sandaw. “Yes, I suppose that would be possible, but it’s not our purpose. You have nothing to worry about, Mister Herman. We won’t be replacing you with monkey brains anytime soon.”

  “What is your purpose then?”

  The laughter ceased. Graves and Sandaw looked at each other. “He has to be told sometime,” said Graves. “You do it.”

  Professor Sandaw looked into Lewis’s eyes with a serious expression. “Applications include EMP resistant missile targeting systems, enhanced robotic drones, networked information processing and storage, and robotic combat systems, to name a few. Eventually, they’ll replace soldiers. No more boots on the ground. It will save thousands of lives on the battlefield. And we won’t always use monkey brains, Mister Herman. It’s just that we don’t have any other option right now.”

  “You’ll use human brains?”

  “Not from living humans,” said Graves. “It will be cloned tissue grown from neural samples. Its anatomy won’t even resemble a natural brain. But that technology isn’t ready yet. That’s phase 4 work. It’s decades down the road.”

  “And this is phase 2? What’s phase 3?”

  “I can’t say,” answered Sandaw. “I’m not cleared for phase 3. If you’re really interested you can ask the Chairman when you meet him.” He checked his watch. “Let me show you the artificial neurons and the miniaturized scanning rings. Input/Output stuff.”

  Pulling out a chair for Lewis, Sandaw sat with him. Doctor Graves joined them, putting his own two-cents in whenever something relevant to his own work came up. Doctor Trent made herself busy on the other side of the laboratory. Technicians came and went as the day wore on. Someone brought them sandwiches from the cafeteria, and the corpse of the dead chimpanzee was wheeled out for its date with the incinerator.

  I Believe You

  Little by little, Lewis began to understand the entire set of procedures leading to the organic processing core, or ‘OPC’ as they called it – the end result of phase 2.

  First, the minds of the chimpanzees underwent initial formatting that organized portions of their brains into matrices that could be read or written reliably. The scanner handled both formatting and the writing by manipulating the neural connections. Some areas it destroyed. Other areas it promoted until the lattice began to form. It wasn’t simply the scanner either, although that did they physical work. A slew of drugs were also involved, most of them psychoactive to varying degrees, which further explained the temperament of the animals.

  On completion of phase 1, when it was possible to send and receive data with 100% accuracy, the animal was sent to phase 2. The brain was removed and placed in the OPC stack for integration. Artificial neurons were implanted and directed to the sensory nerves where they grew into the cortex over time. During their growth, the brain was continuously subjected to formatting and guidance.

  Based on a form of cancer, the artificial nerves grew quickly until drugs were given to alter their metabolism. This created massive redundancy that was cut down over time by the scanner which killed the unused tissue, thereby promoting the connectivity with the integrated synapses and superclusters. Even more interesting, Professor Sandaw and his team had implanted chemical feedback mechanisms into the neural tissue itself. It enforced the growth of the neural lattice. The brain, once programmed, ensured its own storage paradigm remained intact.

  There was more, of course, much more, and the more Lewis learned, the more he wanted to know. This was beyond cutting edge technology; it was like nothing he’d ever encountered. His other jobs had been simple. New medical procedures. New techniques for designing chemical pathways. New cosmetics. The OPC, on the other hand, could literally change the world, and not necessarily for the better. But he would not judge, he told himself. Not yet.

  A chime sounded form Professor Sandaw’s watch. He glanced at it and sighed. “Seems like we just started, but it’s almost fourteen hundred.” Standing, he stretched his arms. “Nora,” he called to Doctor Trent. “Would you take Lewis to Skykomish?”

  The woman tromped across the lab. She did not appear happy, but Lewis was unsure if it was related to the task. He’d yet to see a different expression on her face.

  “Skykomish?” asked Lewis.

  “All of our meeting rooms are named after rivers,” explained Nora Trent. She led Lewis out the door and back into the hall. “Skykomish is down one level. Let’s take the stairs. It’s faster than waiting for the elevator.”

  Entering the stairwell at the end of the hall, Lewis wracked his brains looking for a neutral subject to discuss. “I noticed few people carry umbrellas,” he said. “It’s kind of odd for a place that rains so much.”

  “Why bother. You get in your car, you get out in a parking garage. The amount of time you actually spend in the rain doesn’t warrant an umbrella.”

  “You commute to work?”

  “I live up north.” Her expression still appeared vexed. “Takes me about an hour to get here. Longer to get home. The commute sucks.”

  “But you like the job.”

  “You saw what we do. What do you think?”

  “It’s fascinating.”

  “It’s the future. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be part of a project that actually produces results? So many other programs are absolute crap that will never produce a thing. Take those idiots at SUPTAG. They’re trying to prove the universe is a computer simulation.” She scoffed.
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  Lewis wondered if the scoff was what passed for a Nora Trent laugh. What if she found something extremely funny? Would she scoff in pulses? What would a long pulsation of loud scoffs sound like? It could make for an interesting ringtone. He ventured a response based on her previous comment, attempting to continue the conversation, for whatever good it would do. “I met someone on the plane who is part of that team. It sounded interesting.”

  Nora snorted. “The SUPTAG morons are on the top floor. If you’re ever feeling depressed and you need something to amuse yourself, go talk with them.”

  Lewis wasn’t sure how to reply. Nora keyed the door open and entered a long hall covered with expensive wood paneling. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he told her. It was a weak response, an old standby. It usually worked.

  Nora Trent didn’t seem to care.

  The vacant conference room was visible from the hallway through glass windows. Huge monitors covered the entirety of the opposite wall. At the moment they displayed a feed of the city, probably a live feed coming in from one of the sky scrapers, creating the illusion that they were looking out toward the Puget Sound. Lewis wasn’t familiar enough with Seattle to know the buildings or where the cameras might be stationed, but even with the clouds and rain, it was a beautiful view.

  Doctor Trent waved at the room. “Here you go. See you around, Mr. Herman.”

  “Lewis.” He gave her a carefully calculated smile, not too wide, not too toothy, and hopefully not suggestive. “Call me Lewis.”

  “And you can call me Doctor Trent, unless we’re stuck in a lab together for any period of time. Then you can call me Miss or Ma’am.”

  Lewis raised his eyebrows and focused on the view of the city. “Of course.” Was she angry? Actually, there was no indication of that. Her expression hadn’t changed at all. As she walked away, he took out his phone by reflex and checked his email. Nothing new. That wasn’t too surprising. His family was dead. He didn’t know anyone in Seattle, and kept few friends, even back in Baltimore. He refused to participate in online networking, just on principle. He didn’t keep a blog. He didn’t tweet, or rumble, or shuffle. In a wireless digital age, he was the original invisible man. If he vanished right now, only his therapist and his boss would ever notice. And his therapist would probably think it was an attempt at privacy.

  Realizing he was using his phone as a surrogate pacifier, Lewis put it away and scanned the table. Nothing but a video conference assembly and a bowl of mints. Did he want a mint? He decided that he did. It would probably improve his breath. Speaking of which, how did he smell? Those rubber suits gave his deodorant a work out. As he was sniffing his armpit a white-haired man in a business suit appeared outside the conference room window. Lewis lowered his arm.

  Opening the door, the man walked toward Lewis and stopped. The two of them stared at each other. Using his cane, the man thumped Lewis’s shoe. With a snort, he turned and wandered to the other end of the table. Taking a seat, he spread his hands before him and looked down at his knuckles.

  “Lewis Herman,” he said. “Victim, born with a tendency toward obsession, you were diagnosed with a mild form of autism and began therapy at an early age. You developed an unusual attachment to word meanings, grammar, and definitions. Your social skills were cognitive, forcing you to learn how to act correctly rather than subconsciously integrating them into your personality. This caused you constant self-doubt until you became confident in your skills. You developed schemas and heuristics for every circumstance. They have served you well.”

  Lewis raised his left eyebrow. This was an interview?

  The man continued. “You graduated college at the top of your class with degrees in English and History. You fell in love with your college sweetheart and got married. She gave birth to a son, and you were happy. Then, one day, it all fell apart.” He leaned forward and caught Lewis’s eyes. “You had happiness, and it was snatched away.” He snapped his fingers. “And now you’re here, Lewis Herman. In a strange city, in a strange place, filled with strange new technology.

  “Had it not been for your autism, you’d have never become obsessed with language. Had it not been for your education and experience, you’d have never pursued your current occupation. And, had it not been for the death of your wife and child, you’d have never have left Minnesota.

  “You are a victim of circumstance, Lewis Herman. A puppet in a greater game. We are all part of that game. It is called life, and unless you learn to control it, it is unpredictable and short. Who writes a story, Lewis Herman? Is it the author, or the characters?”

  “The author, of course.”

  One corner of the man’s mouth slanted in a twisted smile. “Have you ever read a story where the character writes his own plot, his own… ending?”

  “I haven’t, but given the amount of literature currently in the world, I’d be surprised if such a story didn’t exist. Many of them. However, given that I’ve never encountered such a book, I’m willing to propose that none of them were particularly good.”

  “You’re probably correct. In lieu of an introduction, I have told you about yourself. How did that make you feel? Be honest, Lewis. I want the truth.”

  “Confused. I suspect this is a test. Either that, or you’re eccentric. Probably both.”

  “I may be eccentric, but this is not a test. There is no need to test you. I know exactly who you are. My name is Valon Kang. You are here for a reason, Lewis. What is it?”

  “This is an odd line of questioning. If you know exactly who I am, then you know why I’m here.”

  “I do.” Val leaned back in his chair. “But do you?”

  “I’m here to document your scanner. In particular, the processes and history leading up to the development of the OPC.”

  “Of course.” Val stroked his neatly trimmed goatee. Like the rest of his hair, it was perfectly white. “And what do you think of the technology so far?” Any… moral determinations, or are you still analyzing that?”

  “I’ve determined to delay my judgment of the ethical considerations until I have time to think about them clearly.”

  “A wise decision.”

  “May I ask a question now?”

  “Of course.”

  “What is phase 3?”

  “Straight to the point, as expected. Excellent, Lewis.” Standing, Valon began to pace, tapping his cane on the floor with each slow step. “Phase 3 is the real reason I created Majutay Radionics. Everything else is a show. The CIA, FBI, and NSA all want the organic processing core for tactical reasons. I’m sure Professor Sandaw explained that to you.”

  Lewis nodded.

  “Good. And those are the things you will write about. What I’m going to tell you now will never leave this room. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  Val shook his cane. “It’s important, Lewis. And be aware that I will know if you divulge anything that I’m about to tell you. Can you still keep a secret?”

  “I can.”

  “I believe you,” stated Val. He lowered his cane. “None of the physicians and physicists in the other phases are aware of this either. You will not share.” Taking a deep breath, he looked at the display of the city on the monitors. “It’s about concepts. It’s about information – concepts and information that have no analog or translation into human speech. There are certain talents that require learning. Artistry, for example. You can tell someone how to paint a picture, but you can’t define the mental process they go through when painting. Every flick of the wrist has to be learned. The juxtaposition of inner vision with the motions of the hand and the expression of that vision according to the feedback provided while viewing it during its creation – that is something that cannot be taught. It must be learned.”

  “I understand.”

  “I believe you.” He continued to stare at the city. “To know the rudder from the feel of a sailboat as it glides across the water. To add seasoning to a dish and know the taste without sampling it. To write
a story without knowing its beginning or its end, only the words as they appear on screen. These are all examples of things I wish to capture and transfer. Imagine occupations as optional. Imagine being able to perform any job you wished simply by downloading the prerequisite skills into your brain. These are the goals of phase 3. Not just information transfer, but skill transfer – accessible from both the conscious and subconscious mind.”

  “You’ll require human testing.”

  “Yes. But not initially. The simian brain can be taught.” A shadow passed over Valon’s face, and his smile seemed almost dark – as if his conceptions were going places that gave him pleasure at the expense of others.

  Lewis tilted his head, unsure of how to interpret the expression. It was unusual and held the flavor of overt evil, but that made no sense. Darkness was something never shown. If Valon possessed sinister motives, then why reveal them? Because it didn’t matter? Was it worth asking? What was Valon doing with the chimpanzees?

  “What have you taught them?” asked Lewis.

  “I will keep that to myself for now.” He shrugged. “It isn’t relevant, in any case. Nor is phase 3 important to the completion of your efforts here. I tell you only because it is interesting to reveal this information at this juncture. Seeds, Lewis, they grow once they’re planted. These will germinate in your head, evoking other thoughts. Those thoughts may become useful to both of us later.” He rose from his seat and moved to the door. “It was good meeting you. We will talk again. For now, I leave you to think about the future. Let your imagination take you there. Envision what this technology can do and what it might do. How will it change society? How will it alter the human condition? Dream, Lewis.”

  “I’ll think about it, Sir.”

  “I believe you.”

  Attempted Murder

  Lewis slept late, taking the opportunity to get some much needed rest after the last two days of whirlwind activity. He woke in time to Skype his therapist, Ezra Barron. Unused to holding back information from her, he proceeded with an explanation so she wouldn’t wonder why he seemed so choppy.