Becoming Animals

by Olga Werby

  “You see?”

  “But you’re talking about my consciousness living in her brain, taking up room where her consciousness should reside.”

  “You know all about neuroplasticity—brains are flexible. They change to accommodate different circumstances. And young brains in particular are extremely adaptable. In humans, in the first two years of life, there’s an enormous explosion of neural growth and restructuring.”

  “And in the teenage years,” Toby said.

  “Yes. Your age,” Lilly said with emphasis. “It’s a lucky coincidence that both of your brains are undergoing such monumental changes just at the moment when you’re ready to merge into one.”

  For the first time, Toby wondered if that was a coincidence. But she was dying now so did that really matter?

  “What your dad designed is incredible,” Lilly said again. “I can’t wait to see the schematics.”

  “You haven’t yet?”

  “No. I’ve only just arrived—I’ve got so much to catch up on.” She smiled. “How is George doing? I heard he’s monitoring Mele’s progress closely. She must not be fully recovered yet.”

  “Yes, I was told he was very worried,” Toby said. Not fully recovered? Toby couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed that. She would know if Mele was hurting and the baby orca wasn’t. There was no pain, just confusion. Was there brain damage?

  “Are we going to scan Mele’s brain when she gets here?” she asked Lilly.

  “As far as I know, there’s no fMRI large enough for a baby whale.”

  “But dad must have gotten images of Mele’s brain. How else did he design the implant?”

  “Mele was smaller back then.”

  “Not that small.”

  “No, not that small,” Lilly agreed. “I don’t know, Toby, I wasn’t there. But I can’t wait to learn. Your dad is so far ahead of all of us on this.” She shook her head in amazement.

  The music played and Cory joined in. It was a strange accompaniment, but Toby appreciated her support.

  “I didn’t know Cory could carry a tune,” Lilly said.

  “If you’d spent as much time listening to Westworld as we have, you’d be humming it in your sleep,” Vikka grumbled.

  “George mentioned that it’s been playing on an infinite loop.”

  “Toby says it helps.” Vikka shrugged, pulled out her headphones, and settled down next to Toby.

  Toby half-listened to the women talk and half-surfed Mele’s dreams. Kona had been drugged to keep her calm during the voyage north and Kona’s breast milk carried the drug to Mele. As a result, Mele had been sleeping most of the time. Well, it wasn’t quite sleeping—Mele heard everything and sometimes even looked around the tank—but everything was laced with disturbing dreams. Sometimes Mele would cry out from the images in her dreams and her mother would call back to her, waking them both briefly.

  Toby worried about the possibility of the whale drowning. This drug-induced state depressed Mele’s breathing and she might forget to go up to the surface and take a breath. An inability to breathe was one of Toby’s nightmares and her anxiety flowed back and forth between them. Toby feared that these terrors would sync up and get out of control, so she did her best to transmit positive thoughts.

  She presented Mele with scenes of ocean life—stuff she’d picked up by watching Internet videos. She played what is it? games, showing Mele different kinds of fish that lived in the Pacific Northwest. And then there was the music. Toby didn’t know why the Westworld theme worked so well and she didn’t care. Mele knew the songs on that album so well that she was ready for each change. Anticipation of the music helped break up the weight of chemical sleep.

  “How is she doing?” That was Kyle speaking.

  “Mele just breastfed,” Vikka said.

  “How bad?”

  “Very low heart rate, slow respiration,” Lilly answered.

  “Mele too?”

  “I don’t know about the whale. Toby is my patient right now.”

  “You should start thinking of them as one,” Kyle said. “If Mele is doing badly, so will Toby.”

  “And the other way around,” Vikka said.

  “Probably,” Kyle said. “That’s true for Grock and me.”

  “What happens when Toby gets too sick? When she’s…” Vikka started.

  What will happen when I’m too sick to ride? Toby mused with detachment. She was feeling the secondhand effects of Mele’s anti-anxiety cocktail in her own nervous system. I can’t die and take Mele with me. They’ll have to separate us before it gets that far. And then there will be two of me, just like in that Star Trek episode where the transporter malfunctioned. They’ll duplicate me and then dispose of the original. Only the copy lives. I’ll watch my own death!

  She wasn’t sure what was so funny, but she started to laugh. And she couldn’t stop. Her vision—her inside vision, for her eyes were closed—started to go dark around the edges. She found it fascinating that she could lose consciousness while inside someone else’s consciousness.

  That thought was the last thing she remembered.

  Rider stared down at the large maze before him, while Kyle adjusted Rider’s BBI.

  “How’s Toby doing?” Rider asked.

  “Something bad happened,” Kyle said. “Or maybe it’s the drugs they’re giving to the mother. Lilly pulled Toby off her ride. She’s sleeping now.”

  “I hope the baby orca makes it,” Rider said. He readjusted the band for comfort.

  “Ready?” Kyle asked.

  “Rider is my name.” A big grin spread on the man’s face—he’d been waiting for the opportunity to say that.

  “Just try and relax into the experience. Eeny is a very experienced rat. She’ll make it easy for you.”

  “Okay,” Rider said.

  He closed his eyes and the world changed.

  There was a shift in perspective as he zoomed down to the level of the maze, but there was also a change in mental attitude. He felt nervousness and fear, but it wasn’t his own. He’d talked enough about riding with Kyle to understand the basic principles and he wasn’t worried about riding. The feeling of trepidation was coming from Eeny.

  Hello. He tried to speak with the rat in his head. He got nothing back, of course.

  His mind was still on Toby and an image of the girl lying in her riding chair flickered through his mind. He didn’t give it half a thought—people have stray thoughts all the time—but the rat grabbed onto that memory and pulled on it. Eeny had recognized Toby; Rider was sure of it.

  He gave the rat another memory of the girl—of Toby eating crackers. He figured the rat would like the crackers and he was right. Eeny paid close attention to the mental image of Toby eating crackers and soon the rat’s anxiousness was gone.

  Rider now looked around at the world through another animal’s senses. It was as rich an experience as perceiving the world with his own human senses, but with a totally different color palette. And it wasn’t just vision—his hearing and sense of smell were beyond amazing.

  Kyle had set up a simple maze arrangement with a small cheesy reward at the southeast corner. As a human, Rider had memorized the simple layout. Now, as a rat, he ran to the cheese without a stop. It was easy to navigate the turns and he could smell the cheese at the end. He found himself chewing on the prize before he’d even noticed that he’d managed to grab it. Time felt much faster as a rat.

  “How are you doing?”

  Rider heard Kyle’s voice as if from a long distance away and coming in stereo…or quadraphonically?

  “I’m fine,” Rider tried to say, but it came out garbled. He found himself moving his jaws in a chewing motion, mirroring Eeny. “Fascinating.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” Kyle said. “It gets easier. But you did so much better on your first try than I managed on mine. I felt like I was tripping over myself, not sure when to let go and when to grab control.”

  “I think I’m done,” Rider said.

&nb
sp; Kyle disconnected the BBI.

  “That was amazing, but overwhelming.”

  “It gets easier with practice,” Kyle said.

  “And Toby and you are plugged in most of the time? How do you do it? It takes so much energy. No wonder Toby’s tired all the time.” Rider rubbed his temples.

  “I think in Toby’s case, it’s the cystic fibrosis.” Kyle’s voice took on a somber tone. “Vikka says she doesn’t have much time left.”

  “I know. I’m sorry to hear it. When do the whales arrive?”

  “Day after tomorrow, weather permitting.”

  “Okay then, let’s do this again,” he told Kyle. “I want to be ready when the major needs me.”

  “I don’t even know what George has in mind for you,” Kyle said.

  Rider knew his friend was probing—and he wasn’t about to fall for it. “Did you know that this rat knows who Toby is?” he said, changing the subject.

  “Of course she does! Toby was her first rider. Toby was the first rider for all of the animals, except for Grock and the new baby rats. They all know her, even Grock. I can feel his love for her every time I ride him.” Kyle smiled. “Or maybe it’s my love for her. It’s all jumbled together.“

  “Well, I liked the kid even before I started training with Eeny,” Rider said.

  “Okay then. Ready for another go?”

  “Let’s ride.”

  “Did it go well with the rat?” George asked. Rider had a regular update session with him every day. George called him on an untraceable cell phone.

  “It was perfect. Amazing, really. Kyle’s a great teacher. Are you sure Will’s willing to do a new implant on me when you guys get here?”

  “That’s the plan. If things don’t work out for Toby, we can’t just abandon the whale initiative.”

  “I understand, sir. But I do hope it works out for her.”

  “So do I.” The major paused. “Rider, have you ever tried the cranial zapper?”

  “No, but I’ve heard about it. You used them to augment the performances of your drone operators.”

  “Not just drone operators,” George said. “I’ve been using the zapper myself for years.”

  “You, sir?”

  It was disconcerting to learn that a superior officer was a zapper junkie. Rider knew too many who’d fallen prey to addiction when dealing with the various traumas military service had left them.

  His thoughts must have been too clear on his face because the major said, “If you think I’m some kind of electricity addict…well, you might be right. But we’re all addicted to something. Kyle is totally addicted to riding. And so is Toby, in case you didn’t know. And I’ve seen how you feel about coffee.”

  “I do need coffee in the morning,” Rider agreed. But that’s hardly the same thing.

  “I’ve made a study of the zapper. It calms the voices of doubt inside my head,” George said. “We all have voices of self-doubt; we all worry that maybe we haven’t done the right thing. Vikka said it’s called rumination.”

  “I’ve heard of that, sir.”

  “Anyway, the zapper solves that. It ‘clears some mental space,’ so to speak. No more self-doubt, just clarity. As you know, it can double, sometimes triple, a sniper’s performance.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Learning is enhanced. Driving, flying, climbing, surfing—they all improve.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard.” Rider knew about all of this. It was interesting, but he wasn’t interested in trying it himself. He had plenty of clarity already without an electrical current running inside his head.

  “Good. Then you’ll understand why I want you to use the zapper to improve your riding skills.”

  “Has that ever been done before?” But as soon as Rider said it, he knew the answer. Kyle had done it. He’d told Rider that he’d had a hard time learning to ride in the beginning—and then he just got better…a lot better. Now Rider knew how.

  “I’ll be straight with you, Rider. I don’t know what the effect of mixing these two technologies will be.”

  Had Rider guessed wrong? Maybe Kyle had never zapped; apparently, if he did, George wasn’t aware of it.

  “But the thing is,” George continued, “we’re almost out of time. Toby is very ill.”

  “Is the plan to use the zapper on the girl?” Rider asked.

  “Let’s see how it goes with you first. I know that you’re just learning to ride, but will you do it?”

  “Does Kyle know? Does he think it’s a good idea? For Toby, I mean.” Rider had already made up his mind for himself. He would do it. He wanted to get good—no, great—as soon as possible.

  “I haven’t mentioned it to him yet,” George said. “But Kyle’s used the zapper while flying drone missions, so he knows the effects. I think he’ll be on board with it. The question is: are you?”

  Rider nodded. “I am, sir.”

  George cut the connection to Rider. He stood alone on the deck of the whale transport tanker, just hours from port. One way or another, this would all be over soon.

  The first part, anyway.

  George was surprised to feel tears well up. If they ran out of time, he’d destroy the calf before allowing it to be surrendered to Major Evans. Will had said Toby’s transfer had started the moment she first connected to the baby orca. Too much of Toby was already in Mele. He couldn’t allow them to use her as a weapon.

  But now that Pandora’s box was open, there would undoubtedly be another child.

  What Rider had experienced before was incredibly immersive, but what he felt now was more so by an order of magnitude. He was the rat. The zapper changed the brain-to-brain connection from a thin stream to a torrent. It was almost impossible to hold on to an ordinary human thought. Nothing linguistic was able to withstand the rodent’s sensory-based cognitive system—but Rider found that he didn’t miss the words or his human categorization scheme. He enjoyed the fluidity of the rat’s thought processes. It was just as good for dealing with reality as what he was used to. Different, but just as good.

  “Rider!” Kyle screamed.

  The BBI headband and the zapper connections were yanked off Rider’s head.

  Rider had to take a moment to get hold of human language again. “What?”

  “You were drooling and making incoherent noises,” Kyle said. “I thought you were having a seizure. I was about to get Lilly—”

  “I’m good, Kyle, I’m good.”

  “You’ve been connected for over an hour. Look.” Kyle shoved his watch into Rider’s face. A whole hour had, in fact, passed.

  “Wow.”

  “That’s all you can say?”

  “What do you want me to say? I didn’t know it had been that long. Remember when we talked about flow with the zapper? You said it was like time ceased to exist, as if you were working outside of temporal constraints, right?”

  Kyle sighed. “Yes, the outside world slips away. It’s complete immersion in the experience. Is this how it was just now for you?”

  “I was the rat, Kyle. I wasn’t riding Eeny. I was her.”

  “I get that sometimes with Grock,” Kyle said. “But it took a long time to get there. I’ve never had that feeling with any of the other animals I’ve ridden.”

  “But you did zap with them, right?” Kyle had never actually admitted to zapping while riding.

  “Only once. With a rat.”

  “So you know.”

  “Yeah. It works,” Kyle said. He seemed more contemplative than usual.

  “Did George and Will know?”

  “No. It was just for a few minutes. Just to help me get started. And I’ve never done it since. Not once.”

  “It’s important that I learn quickly,” Rider said. Perhaps it was time to reveal the plan. “If Toby…if she runs out of time…well, I’m supposed to take over. I’ll get the implant.”

  “So…that’s Plan B.” Kyle shook his head. “Well, I don’t like it, but it’s your brain you’re messing with. Do yo
u want to go back in? With the zapper?”

  “Yeah. Let’s do it again with the zapper.”

  Twenty-Four: Two Days Later

  “Why’d you pick Brats?” Will asked. “Why did you sign on to this project?”

  He and George stood on the deck of the tanker as it pulled into the harbor. Trucks on the loading ramp were poised to transport the orcas to the lab, about fifty miles away.

  “Because you’re smart,” George said.

  “There are plenty of smart researchers. But you sought me out. You sought Brats out. I know of half a dozen projects that had more interesting applications than Brats at the time you funded us. But you picked us.”

  “Have you ever heard of electro-cranial stimulation?” George asked.

  “Sure. It’s all over the Internet. Lots of fantastical claims—”

  “It works,” George said. “My drone pilots used it on occasion—and their performance improved significantly. It saved lives.”

  “Okay,” Will said. “What does that have to do with my work?”

  “I heard you speak at Berkeley. Back before you were classified. You were so jazzed about the results you were getting with the brain-to-brain interface.”

  “We didn’t start getting real results until Toby joined the team,” Will said.

  “True. But I saw potential in your work and I managed to convince others. The zapper—that’s what we call the electro-cranial stimulator—was instrumental in that. A proof of concept, so to speak. And here we are.”

  “The zapper has nothing to do with what BBI does—”

  “They didn’t know the difference. I bet on you, Will. I’ve always bet on people rather than technology. You convinced me and I convinced others. And the zapper is still relevant.”

  “How so?”

  “Remember I told you about Rider?”

  “Yes. You want me to give him a brain implant. The upgrade I developed for Toby.”