The Last Place to Stand (9 page)

“Okay, let's get it hooked up,” said the surgeon. This required extra hands, and those more capable than his. His assistant was Dr. Chin, a man sent from the other side of the world, and one of the world’s leading experts in both the medical field and high-tech AI research. The surgeon wondered why they still used names in that part of the world.

“Dr., please push on the device here, making a gap between the brain and the device,” said Dr. Chin. “Now keep steady as I begin to make the connections.”

In the other room, E2175 heard that last phrase as if in a dream. “Keep steady,” he whispered. He looked down at his own hands. Not shaking as badly today, but still such surgery would not be possible for him ever again. So sad. But at least he would play a part in this tremendous advancement.

Dr. Chin watched a screen that gave precise locations for each point and gave a real-time image of his insertions. He pushed the first pin into the soft gray substance. Watching the screen, he carefully maneuvered it to where it had to go. This was an extremely delicate operation and took several minutes, but there were 48 electrodes in all, so this would be a long procedure. Once perfected, they hoped to be able to program AI to do this operation, but not until it was perfected. Too many variables. The surgeon who was now the assistant, held the lobes steadily apart.

Forty minutes later and six more electrodes. Dr. Chin told the surgeon to relax. He let the lobes gently come together. After a couple of minutes to rest, they began again, this time he connected both halves of the brain directly to the circuit by attaching a device that clamped onto both sides of the severed connections. This, along with other connections that would occur later, would insure that all brain activity went through the processor first. No longer was the brain to be the dominant controller of this person, but a kind of co-control would exist.

Once complete, Dr. Chin smiled. “Thank you doctor,” he said. The surgeon let go of the brain lobes and stepped back where the anesthesiologist and a technician stood. The technician’s job included watching the monitoring equipment and making adjustments as necessary. For the time being, the surgeon would not be needed unless there was an emergency.

After six and a half hours, the surgery was done. Dr. Chin gave a nod to the technician. The technician consulted several screens, graphs, charts, and statistical readouts, and then gave a yes nod back.

Dr. Chin whispered to the anesthesiologist, “It's time.”

The anesthesiologist took out a large three-inch needle. The container of liquid attached to the needle was so large it could clearly be seen from the viewing room. He gave the patient quite a dose of something in a brownish liquid. It hurt just to watch. Once administered, the doctors stood back.

“What's that for?” asked the Director of Operations in the viewing room.

“Time for reboot,” said E2175. “We cannot bring him online unless the brain activity is halted almost entirely.”

“Did he know about this part of the procedure?”

“Do you think he would have agreed to it if he had?” said E2175. “It was all in the paper work, but was not mentioned by name.”

Another observer, one who so far had stood quietly, said, “So basically, you're going to kill the guy and bring him back where the computer is now in control.”

“Shared control, but that's right. And it's very astute of you—though I wouldn't put it in such terms myself. It sounds more barbaric the way you say it.”

“I'm sorry, I should introduce you to the general of our military,” said the Operations Manager.

E2175 said, “I thought we were a peaceful society. I didn't know we had a military.”

“We don't,” said the Operations Manager.

She stayed at home for the evening, having only the most minimal feed interference. She wanted to think, and she wanted to feel. She wanted to know herself, something she had never done before. X213 started asking herself questions. Her first question was, without the feeds to occupy her every minute, what did she like doing? Why did she usually go to work and home but nowhere else? Was there something wrong with her? These questions were hard, because she realized she didn't have any answers, and the answers would not come from some database in the sky, but from inside of her and that seemed harder to access.

For now, the questions would have to wait because this morning she would to go back to work one last time in order to talk to the man in her office.

X got herself ready, but did not eat. She didn't feel like it this morning. She didn't know why. When she kept the feeds down to a minimum, she noticed that she didn't get the shakes. That was good. Maybe she could reverse this thing. She went to the drug cabinet like every morning, but when she took out the pills, she thought about what each one of them did. Stress, anxiety, the sleeping pills (so she needed less), and some she didn't even know why the doctor had prescribed them. Even as she had opened one bottle and put the red and blue pills in her hand, she changed her mind. She wanted to deal with life on her own terms and not on the terms of the drugs. She decided that she had a choice, and she chose to handle it on her own.

She did drink coffee, however. She liked the way it tasted and smelled.

Afterward, she climbed into the pod and was off to her job.

The building was the same as usual, but it felt different somehow. It was not the office, she realized, that had changed. It was her.

Upon entering, she saw the same people doing the same jobs. No one talked. Only the sounds of moving chairs and clicking keys. The feeds were silent. But something did get her attention. The man whom she had talked to the other day, the whole reason she came to work one last time, was gone. He did not sit in his customary chair. She wondered what could have happened. Was he sick? Was he suffering from something? Had he reached the same conclusions that she had on his own?

She went over to his desk. An old computer hummed. On the screen was a memo to be sent via feed, she assumed. But the memo said, “X213, I have something you should probably know. I think something big is about to happen. There is an experiment that the company is about to start. It might be dangerous since it involves a more complete interface of man and machine. Make sure you don't get the upgrade if they ever offer it. I sort of stumbled into this information.”

“You should also know that I will no longer be here. I realized that this is no place for me after all. You are the only person I ever talked to at our work. I would be surprised if you even read this since we only spoke once. Since I began working here, I always thought of you as the daughter I wish I had.”

She was glad he had left. She was glad he realized that this way of living was not really life.
Wasn't it interesting
, she thought,
that they had both reached the same conclusion on the same day
. The man seemed closer to it than she did at the time, so she should not be surprised at that.

Well, she certainly won't be getting any upgrade, she thought. In fact, she won't even be working here. She decided she would walk out of this office and never return. As she turned to go, she saw some men walk into the room. They were dressed like they worked here, but she had never seen them before. No one else seemed to be paying attention because they had so much going on in their heads with the feeds and sending and receiving reports, and communicating with bosses and receiving communications. These men obviously did not belong.

She didn't at first know what to do. Then she decided to approach them. “What do you need?” she asked.

“We are new interns,” one of them said. He had penetrating brown eyes, dark skin, and a square, stern face. “We were told there would be some training we should attend.”

“Well, I don't know where you would be trained,” she said, “unless the Operations Manager intended to meet with you himself. But if you wanted to make yourself useful, you might want to go to that desk over there. The man who usually sits there won't be back. Get yourself used to the feel of sitting in a chair staring at a screen, or if you take my job, staring at nothing at all, for fourteen hours.”

“Are you leaving?” the man asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I am through with this kind of job—with this kind of life. I need out.”

The man looked interested. While the four other men went over to the missing man's desk, the man with the penetrating eyes asked, “Why would you want to leave? I mean, isn't this what will make all our dreams come true? Doesn't technology hold the key to our future?”

“I don't believe that anymore,” she said.

“Glad to hear it,” he said. “Neither do I.”

“What?” she said, taken aback by this response. “But I thought you were interns?”

“Do you intend to stay in this job?” he asked.

“No, I was just about to leave. I’ll never come back to this.” It was strange, but when she said that, she felt like crying again. She got control of herself.

“Where will you go?” said the man with the eyes.

“I don't know, but probably far from here,” she said. This time a tear did fall, but that was all.

“Would you go to the Outcasts camp?” he asked.

This last question made her fearful and suspicious. There were reports of spies in the company who were paid to try to root out those who were not fully committed to their job. These people would lie in order to catch someone's true motive. If this was one of those men, his questions were dangerous traps. Then again, she was about to leave this job, leave this place, so what did she care? “I might,” she said. “I only know I want out.”

“Very good,” he said, this time with a slight smile. “I'm happy to hear it. It's about time someone here put two and two together. This kind of life will ruin you.”

Just then one of the men with red hair said, “Chief, I think you should check this out.”

He walked over to where the other men were at the old man’s desk. On the computer screen was the note, but in an opened drawer of the desk was a small handheld computer. It was for people who did not have access to the feeds. On this one, the indicator light that signaled that it was detached from the feed system was blinking. From where she stood, she saw that the screen held schematics for some new piece of technology. One of the men said, “I think I know what this is.”

“Yes, Wallace?” said the man with the piercing eyes they called chief.

“Wait a minute,” she interrupted, “only the Outcasts use names.”

“That's right,” he said, “but we prefer to be called Waldenese.” Then he put his finger to his lips, saying, “shhhhhhh, it's our secret.”

“Don't worry,” she said, “I won't turn you in. That is, unless you’re planning something violent.”

“No violence, I promise,” said the lead man. “My name is Samuel.”

“Chief,” said Wallace, “I'm taking this with us.”

“Good idea,” said Samuel. “I think we found what we're looking for anyway. Easier than I expected.”

“Are you coming with us?” said Samuel.

“Y-Yes,” she said. Where were those pills that helped with nervousness?

She showed them an easier, quicker way out of the building. When they were walking away from it, Wallace spoke up. “This experiment they are getting ready to do, or maybe have already done, is dangerous in the worst way. They are planning to insert a microboard with a processor in it in such a position in the brain that it would be the one calling the shots. If that were done, there are some weird things that could happen.”

“Such as?” Samuel asked.

As they walked, people ignored them, as usual. “Well, one possibility might be that the board takes over and shuts down the brain. If that happens he would act as a robot. Nobody gets hurt there, except for him. He would be essentially brain dead, like a zombie or something.”

“Weird,” said Samuel.

Wallace went on, “Oh, then there's the possibility that the brain and the processor could actually co-exist and thinking capacity and speed would be dramatically increased. This is probably their ideal scenario.”

“But then there's another possibility. What if the brain rejects the implant? Since the implant is the go-between for the brain’s two halves, he would lose most or all capacity to function. He might become a vegetable or die. This would not spread to others, but would certainly be no fun for him.”

“Hmmm,” said Samuel. “What do you think is most likely to happen?”

“Well, chief,” said Wallace, “There's no way for me to know. This is so advanced, it is total speculation. It could be the beginning of a new race, or the end of our own. Or it could just be a failed, but radical experiment.”

“I don't like any of those scenarios,” said X213.

“Neither do I,” said Samuel. “We will have to keep a lookout.”

“Do you think Little Brother can help with that?” said another man from the group.

“That's just what I was going to find out,” said Samuel.

Sydney laid out the terms and they were simple and good. There was plenty of land for their new house and they could build it from whatever materials they wished. Since tools were limited, their main options seemed to be either a mud hut (like he had seen for most houses) or bricks (which might take time to make) or one built with sticks or wood.

The area reserved for community purposes would be a yard, the document said: either a front or back yard. The main idea was that children and adults would have access and it would be for them a community place to meet.

“So, what is the communal area at your house?” said Odysseus.

“You're in it,” said Sydney. “This whole house is a place where people can stay and receive hospitality. It is a special arrangement, and one that so far has been treated with respect. It is understood that if someone is in trouble, or without shelter, they can stay here. We agreed that this can be so. No one made it a requirement.”

“Wow,” said Odysseus. “That must be a bit inconvenient at times.”

“It can be, but it is also very rewarding. When I think about all the people who I know well that would otherwise be strangers, I am thankful to have this place. Anyway, we were the first.”