To Zorlok went the task of embedding the device in the brain in such a way as to allow the neurons to power the processor, as well as access the information stored in the microchips. This wasn’t a new concept because, as Zorlok had told Mitron, it was already in use for people with severe brain damage. But the embryos had not yet developed a brain.
As Mitron worked on the tiny processors, Zorlok had to come up with a way that would allow the bodies to accept the implants without rejecting them, and he did that by taking very tiny flesh specimens from each embryo, and growing them in petri dishes until they were large enough to accommodate the micro-processors. Once he did this, he grafted the new fold to the neural plate where the somatosensory cortex would be once the brain was fully developed.
It was while he was working with those specimens that he, quite by accident, hit upon a way to accelerate both the gestation period and the growth rate, once the embryos were implanted in the surrogate mothers, be those mothers biological or non-biological.
“I have discovered a way to alter the endocrine system by increasing the amount of thyroxine that will be produced by their thyroid,” Zorlok reported to the others. “This will not only allow a very rapid gestation, it will also allow them to become adults within a matter of weeks. The question is, should I do this?”
“Can you engineer a cessation of the process so that they don’t die of old age within a matter of weeks?” Dr. Sydmoni asked.
“Yes, I’ve already considered that. I can create a release of somatomedins which will be biologically triggered when the bodies reach a stage of growth consistent with adulthood. This will halt the growth and catalyze biological reactions.” Zorlok smiled. “That will also stop the hyper aging.”
“Then yes, you should definitely do it,” Dr. Sydmoni replied. “If the embryos are found and brought to term, we have no idea what sort of environment they will face, and the faster they are able to function as adults, the greater their chances of survival.”
With the agreement of the others, Zorlok undertook the procedure.
The data load was determined by the entire project committee. The first file would be a learning file, which would allow an almost instantaneous ability to communicate with beings of the new civilization. They were also provided with interface connectors which would allow them to exchange non-verbal information with each other.
It was decided that each embryo would be provided with a uniform base of knowledge that would be possessed by all, primarily a description and historical overview of the civilization from which they came, as well as detailed information on how all life was destroyed. Beyond the base of information shared by all, each individual would be given additional intelligence, unique to them. The combined intelligence of the six would be an enormous amount of information available.
Halfway through the project Professor Hord Joral, who was one of the physicist called to work on this project, asked to speak with Mitron. Though now long-retired, Joral was, perhaps, the most brilliant physicist alive, and he had been Mitron’s teacher when Mitron was in school.
Joral readily conceded that the idea of biological implantation of artificial intelligence in, what would become the brain of the six individuals was Mitron’s. He felt no jealousy, and offered his support in non-intrusive ways. But, when it became obvious that they were going to succeed, he came up with another idea, and it was for this reason that he had requested a meeting.
“I want you to load this data as well,” he said, showing Mitron a schematic.
“What is this?”
“I’m calling it the Reverse Chronological Contact Coordinator.”
“That’s quite a name. What is it supposed to do?”
“We must build the machine here. This information will allow our ‘children’ to build the exact duplicate of the machine there, or perhaps I should say, build it ‘when.’ Once constructed, though separated by many millennia, the two machines will be able to contact each other across time.”
“What? Professor, are you saying this is a time-travel machine?”
“No, not in that sense,” Professor Joral replied. “We will not be able to physically travel in time. But, if both this machine, and the machine in the future are properly coordinated, they will be able to send messages back across time.”
“Oh!” Mitron said. “Oh, how wonderful it would be to have them contact us and tell us that we succeeded in projecting our species into the future.”
Although work began immediately on the Reverse Chronological Contact Coordinator with Professor Joral in charge, information about this device was withheld from the public. But news of the embryos, even the information that they were provided with data processor-enhanced brains, did spread and the news of the project was published in all the information sheets.
Ambassadors to the Future
Six embryos, carefully selected for health and form, have been prepared to carry a message from us, to our ancestor civilization far into the future.
Augmented with tiny data processors, these embryos are being implanted in a secret place where they shall remain until discovered far in the future.
We will live again through the biological components we have left (more than two billion specimens have been sowed) and our biologists tell us there is a near certain degree of success. And, now, added to this rebirth, will be three men and three women from our own time who will be able to take our story to the ages.
The knowledge that we, as a species, will not only reappear at some time in the distant future, but that our descendants will know that we came before them, has had a tremendous ameliorating effect upon the depression that has been so prevalent since the appearance of the Plym Stellar-body
Although support for the environmental enrichment program had become universal since Theist Wolco had put his imprimatur behind the project, the plan to leave six embryos in some sort of suspended animation met with widespread disapproval. Those in opposition expressed themselves in no uncertain terms:
“With data processors instead of brains, these creatures are not sentient beings. They are at best, androids, and because of that, can never be used to represent our race. They should be left to perish, with the rest of us.
First Director Lemil was well aware of the data processing augmentation of the embryos, and through him, the government of Amalon made an air vessel available to Mitron and Zorlok so that they might travel to the location where the embryos would be left.
Six hours after leaving Biskandal, the air vessel landed at the airstrip of the, now-deserted international polar research station at the planet’s southernmost ice cap or pole. The Southern Pole was chosen as the ideal place to leave the canister because it was so isolated, and had such an inhospitable environment that only the most advanced civilizations would ever go there. Also the embryos would need the cold to protect them, not only from the super heating the planet would undergo on the final day, but to be able to survive until found.
Vilna had asked to be allowed to accompany Zorlok and Mitron, and because there was plenty of room in the craft, she was allowed to do so. She was now standing outside the air vessel with the others, and despite the fact that she was wearing an electronically heated comfort suit, she was still cold, and she breathed vapor clouds into the air.
Although the polar station was deserted, the researchers having abandoned it to spend the last days with their families, all the equipment was still there, including a spin-wing air vessel that take off and land vertically. They would use it to fly to the exact location they had chosen to plant the canister.
Twenty minutes later, they were at their destination. The spin-wing vessel sat quietly beside them, the rotor blades still, as Zorlok and Mitron used the narrow beam light amplification device to drill a hole in the ice.
“We need go only deep enough to make certain they survive the impact. As time passes, ice buildup will drive the canister much deeper.
“May I?” Vilna asked, reaching for the canister. Zorlo
k handed it to her.
“Good night, Zorlok,” she said, kissing the canister. “Have a nice long rest, and a wonderful life.”
Vilna handed it back to Mitron who lowered it into the bottom of the drilled hole. Ice and snow was pushed down into the hole, covering the canister so that, moments after they were finished, there was no sign to show that the ice had ever been disturbed.
Vilna held Zorlok’s hand on the flight back to the research station.
“Will he ever be born?”
“I’m sure of it,” Zorlok replied.
“What will he be like, I wonder?” Vilna asked.
“Oh, he’ll have my good looks and charm, and your brilliance and sassiness,” Zorlok teased.
At the suggestion of many of his customers, Gnonloma moved the Terminal Event Party up to exactly two weeks before the end. The Mood and Food was filled with guests, and despite solemnity of the moment, there was a great deal of laughter and conversation as Zorlok and Vilna went inside.
“It’s funny,” Vilna said. “You would think everyone would be sitting around in gloom, but this really is a party.”
“By now everyone has gotten used to it,” Zorlok said. “I think they are ready to accept it.”
“Especially since you have given everyone hope of a future with the environmental enrichment program,” Vilna said.
“Here you are, two of my favorite people!” Gnonloma said. “Come in, enjoy, eat all you want, there is no charge.”
Zorlok laughed. “I would say that is very generous of you, Beati, if it weren’t for the fact there is no longer a system of credit exchange.”
“You have discovered my secret,” Gnonloma replied with a broad smile. “Now, what would you like?”
“We will eat whatever you bring to the table,” Zorlok replied.
“Then I shall bring you something exquisitely wonderful,” the restaurateur said, touching the fingertips of his right hand together before he left the table.
There were four men sitting at a table in another part of the restaurant, and they began to sing. At first the music was off-key and discordant, but as they adjusted to each other’s pitch and range, the music grew softer and more melodic. All conversation stopped as the song, a traditional melody known by nearly every Amalonian, wafted through the room.
The evening that, we came to call
A time in memory of one and all
We'll share this passage with all others
Remembering nights with songs to sing
A friendly greeting to all we bring
When all sentients will be brothers
“A song of times remembered. It is so very sad to think that time will stop,” Vilna said.
Zorlok chuckled. “Time itself isn’t going to stop. For example, every year the date we have established for High Holy Observance will come around. We’ll just all be gone, is all, and the good thing is, we won’t be bombarded with endless Image Screen mercenaries yelling as loud as they can, that we should buy this or buy that for Observance Day.”
Vilna laughed as well. “You’re awful, Zorlok.”
A moment later Gnonloma returned with a young woman who was pushing a cart, covered by a silver dome. Gnonloma lifted the dome.
“Here you are, my friends, haunch of lamb, cooked to perfection.”
“Oh, heavens, Beati, there are only two of us,” Zorlok said when he saw the size of the roast.”
“I’ll wrap some of what you don’t eat, so you can take it home to Tuke,” Gnonloma promised.
“Yes,” Zorlok said, nodding. “Tuke will love it.”
“So, tell me, my good Cyr, did you two make your biologic contribution?”
“Yes, we just did. Did you?”
“I did.” He looked around the dining room, then leaned over to speak quietly. “My mother-in-law thinks she has as well, but I took care of that. Whatever future life is spawned upon this planet will be spared any rebirth of Lazina Coroway. And if they had ever known her, they would thank me for it.”
Both Zorlok and Vilna laughed as Gnonloma left their table.
“I’m glad he moved the party up,” Vilna said.
“Why?”
“Because I want our last hours to be with just the three of us.”
“Three of us?”
“You, me, and Tuke,” Vilna said.
“Yes,” Zorlok said. “That is as it should be.”
28
The Present
The twenty-five scientists, biologists, archeologists, and anthropologists –and a few guests, including Ava – had set spellbound for three hours, totally unaware of the passage of time as they listened to “Michael” tell the story of who they were, where they came from, and when they had originated. With the burial of the canister, it was obvious to all that Michael, the spokesman of the Six, was coming to the conclusion of his story.
“To give you a means of connecting the six of us to the three nations of our world, I will tell you – using the names you have given us – that Millie and I came from the nation of Amalon, Sue Ellen and Arnold came from Kambye, and Betty and Carl came from Korsra.
“That was the year 15M657 by the calendar of the Before Time, meaning that it was the six hundred fifty-seventh year of the fifteenth millennium of recorded history.
“Damn!” Lewis said. “We knew that the Sphinx was old, but nobody had any idea it was that old.”
“Michael, from your story, we know your given name is Zorlok. What about the others?”
“Millie’s ‘before’ name was Teela, Sue Ellen was Rolesti. The others were not named in the Before Time, and of course, all of us will use the names that have been given us here, in the present time.”
“I have a question,” Calhoun said. “The leading theory of the moon's formation suggests that it is the result of a planet-sized body crashing into Earth about four billion years ago. Except for a difference in time, your story tends to support that thesis.”
“Yes, well, as I stated in the story, the moon itself did not crash into earth, though significant ejecta from the missile strikes did. The biggest portion remained intact, and it slipped into orbit around the earth. This is what we see every night.” Michael went on, “It’s ironic that your poets and musicians make it a symbol of love, when it is the very thing that once extinguished all life on this planet.”
Damien raised his hand.
“Michael, what about the accelerated growth and aging?”
“Our rapid maturation is the result of genome manipulation, but, that has ceased now. From this point on, we will age consistently with any other human being in their mid-twenties. We should live to our mid-eighties or early nineties. The difference is, that will be our biological age. Our chronological age will be about twenty years younger. I should say, that would be our age since birth.”
“In your story, you spoke of a time travel machine. Is such a thing possible? Do you actually have the knowledge to make one?”
“It isn’t time travel, it’s more like a time transceiver. And yes, we do have the knowledge to make it, but we will need help from you.”
“And money,” McElwain added. “I’m quite certain that will cost a great deal, much more than the university has made available for this project.”
“Yes, President McElwain, we shall probably require a great deal of money.
“I have a feeling we will be able to get it,” Damien said.
“Thank you, Professor Thornton, and thank you, President McElwain for making this forum available for us to today,” Michael said. He pointed toward the table where drinks and snacks were available.
“I don’t know if we had doughnuts in the before time, but we do have them here, and I love them. Please join us, now.”
The next day after the meeting between the research team and the Six, Damien and Ava were at the terminal at Spirit of St. Louis Airport when the Gulfstream 650 taxied up. Capable of .9 Mach speed, the $65 million airplane had the same paint scheme as Worley’s helicopter; whit
e, with a wide, anodized gold band down the line of windows, and the name “Worley” in blue script below the windows, and on the vertical stabilizer.
They stepped outside to meet him.
“A machine that can send messages back in time,” Worley said as they drove from the airport to the campus. “I must say, that did get my attention.”
“It will only work if it is paired with another receiver that is exactly married to it,” Michael explained when Damien took the billionaire to meet him.
“So, what you are telling me is, once we get this device built, I can’t send myself messages in the past to tell me how to avoid some of the bad investments I’ve made, and to tell about some of the good ones I’ve missed?”
“No sir, I’m afraid you won’t be able to do that.”
“So that means I get nothing from this, except for letting this ancient civilization know that you got here all right.”
“But, Mr. Worley, don’t you think that is a good enough reason to sponsor it?” Ava asked.
“Yes, it is. But, being the businessman I am, I guess I’m always looking at the economic advantage.”
“Our brains,” Michael said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“All six of us have a biological computer in our brain that is no bigger than a period on a printed page. You could remove those computers and with reverse engineering come up with something that might repay you for your investment.”
“You mean you are willing to have the computer removed? Won’t that take away all your intelligence?” Worley asked.
“No,” Michael said. “All memory from the microchips has been transferred to the hippocampus, amygdala, cingulate gyrus, thalamus, hypothalamus, and epithalamus parts of our brain. We will have no degradation of memory or function once the computers are removed.”
Terminal Event Page 16
