Fantastic Voyage II: Destination Brain fv-2

by Isaac Asimov

  "I can't believe all that."

  "You couldn't believe miniaturization."

  "I don't mean I can't believe the results of miniaturization. I mean I can't believe that the solution of the problem is permanently locked in the brain of one man. Others will eventually think of it. If not now, then next year or next decade."

  "It's easy to wait when you are not concerned, Albert. The trouble is we're not going to have a next decade or even a next year. This Grotto which you see all about you has cost the Soviet Union as much as a minor war. Each time we miniaturize anything - even if it's just Katinka - we consume enough energy to last a sizable town for a whole day. Already, our government leaders look askance at this expense and many scientists, who do not understand the importance of miniaturization or who are simply selfish, complain that all of Soviet science is being starved for the sake of the Grotto. If we do not come up with a device to save on energy - an extreme saving, too - this place will be shut down."

  "Nevertheless, Natalya, if you publish what is now known of miniaturization and make it available to the Global Association for the Advancement of Science, then innumerable scientists will put their minds to it and quickly enough someone will devise a method for coupling Planck's constant and the speed of light."

  "Yes," said Boranova, "and perhaps the scientist who will obtain the key of low-energy miniaturization will be an American or a Frenchman or a Nigerian or a Uruguayan. It is a Soviet scientist who has it now and we don't want to lose the credit."

  Morrison said, "You forget the global fellowship of science. Don't cut it up into segments."

  "You would speak differently if it were an American who was on the edge of the discovery and you were asked to do something that might possibly give the credit to one of us. Do you remember the history of the American reaction when the Soviet Union was the first to put an artificial satellite into orbit?"

  "Surely we have advanced since then."

  "Yes, we have advanced a kilometer, but we have not advanced ten kilometers. The world is not yet entirely global in its thinking. There remains national pride to a considerable extent."

  "So much the worse for the world. Still, if we are not global and if national pride is something we are expected to retain, then I should have mine. As an American, why should I be disturbed over a Soviet scientist losing credit for the discovery?"

  "I ask you only to understand the importance of this to us. I ask you to put yourself in our place for a moment and see if you can grasp our desperation to do what we can to find out what it is that Shapirov knows."

  Morrison said, "All right, Natalya. I understand. I don't approve, but I understand. Now - listen carefully, please - now that I understand, what is it you want of me?"

  "We want you," said Boranova intensely, "to help us find out what Shapirov's thoughts - his still-living and existing thoughts - are."

  "How? There's nothing in my theory that makes that possible. Even granting that thinking networks do exist, and that brain waves can be minutely analyzed, and even granting that I occasionally get a mental image, possibly imaginary, possibly an artifact - there remains no way in which the brain waves can be studied to the extent of interpreting them in terms of actual thoughts."

  "Not even if you could analyze, in detail, the brain waves of a single nerve cell that was part of a thinking network?"

  "I couldn't deal with a single nerve cell in anything approaching the necessary kind of detail."

  "You forget. You can be miniaturized and be inside that single nerve cell."

  And Morrison stared at her in sick horror. She had mentioned something like this at their first meeting, but he had put it aside as nonsense - horrifying, but nonsense, since miniaturization, he was certain, was impossible. But miniaturization was not impossible and now the horror was undiluted and paralyzing.

  22.

  Morrison did not then, nor could he at any time afterward, clearly recall the events that immediately followed. It was not a case of everything going black as much as everything having blurred.

  His next clear memory was that of lying on a couch in a small office with Boranova looking down at him and with the other three - Dezhnev, Kaliinin, and Konev - behind her. Those three came into focus more slowly.

  He tried to struggle into a sitting position, but Konev moved toward him and placed his hand on Morrison's shoulder. "Please, Albert, rest awhile. Gather your strength."

  Morrison looked from one to another in confusion. He had been upset, but he did not clearly remember what he had been upset about.

  "What happened? How - how did I get here?" He looked around the room again. No, he hadn't been here. He had been looking through a window at a man in a hospital bed.

  He said, puzzled, "Did I faint?"

  "Not really," said Boranova, "but you weren't quite yourself for a while. You seemed to undergo a shock."

  Now Morrison remembered. Again he tried to lift himself into a sitting position, more strenuously this time. He struck Konev's restraining hand out of the way. He was sitting up now, with his hands on the couch on either side of him.

  "I remember now. You wanted me to be miniaturized. What happened to me when you said that?"

  "You simply swayed and - crumpled. I had you placed on a stretcher and brought here. It didn't seem to anyone that you needed medication, merely a chance to rest and recover."

  "No medication?" Morrison looked vaguely at his arms, as though he expected to see needle marks through the sleeve of his cotton blouse.

  "None. I assure you."

  "I didn't say anything before I collapsed?"

  "Not a word."

  "Then let me answer you now. I'm not going to be miniaturized. Is that clear?"

  "It is clear that you say so."

  Dezhnev sat down on the couch next to Morrison. He had a full bottle in one hand and an empty glass in the other.

  "You need this," he said and half-filled the glass.

  "What is it?" asked Morrison, lifting his arm to ward it off.

  "Vodka," said Dezhnev. "It's not medicinal, it's nourishing."

  "I don't drink."

  "There is a time for everything, my dear Albert. This is a time for a warming bit of vodka, even for those who do not drink."

  "I don't drink out of disapproval. I can't drink. I have no head for alcohol, that's all. If I take two swallows of that, I will be drunk within five minutes. Completely drunk."

  Dezhnev's eyebrows went up. "So? What other purpose is there in drinking? Come, if you are lucky enough to win your goal in a few inexpensive sips, thank whatever you find thankable. A very small amount will warm you, stimulate your peripheral circulation, clear your head, concentrate your thoughts. It will even give you courage."

  Kaliinin's voice sounded in half a whisper, but was distinctly audible. "Do not expect miracles of a little alcohol."

  Morrison's head twisted sharply and he looked at her. She did not seem as pretty as he had thought her on their first meeting. There was a hard and unforgiving look about her.

  Morrison said, "I have never represented myself as a courageous man. I have never presented myself as anything that would be of help to you. I have maintained from the beginning that I could not do anything for you. That I am here at all is the result of compulsion, as you all know. What do I owe you? What do I owe any of you?"

  Boranova said, "Albert, you are shivering. Take a sip of the vodka. You will not be drunk on a sip and we won't force more on you."

  Almost as though to show bravery in a small way, Morrison, after a moment's hesitation, took the glass from Dezhnev's hand and swallowed a bit of the liquor recklessly. He felt a burning sensation in his throat, which passed. The taste was rather sweetish than otherwise. He took a larger sip and handed the glass back. Dezhnev took it and placed it and the bottle on a small table on his side of the couch.

  Morrison tried to speak, but he coughed instead. He waited, cleared his throat, and said breathily, "Actually, that's not so bad. If
you don't mind, Arkady -"

  Dezhnev reached for the glass, but Boranova said, "No. That's enough, Albert." Her imperious gesture stopped Dezhnev. "We do not want you drunk, Albert. Just a little warm so you will listen to us."

  Morrison could feel the warmth rising within him, as it always had when, on rare occasions of social bonhomie, he had had some sherry or (once) a dry martini. He decided he could handle any argument she could produce.

  "All right," he said, "say on," and set his lips into a firm and unyielding line.

  "I don't say, Albert, you owe us anything and I'm sorry that all this came as such a shock to you. We are aware that you are not a reckless man of action and we tried to break it to you as gently as possible. I had hoped, in fact, that you would see what was essential on your own, without any necessity of explanation."

  "You were wrong," said Morrison. "At no time would such a mad thing have occurred to me."

  "You see our necessity, don't you?"

  "I see your necessity. I don't see it as mine.

  "You might feel you owe it to the cause of global science."

  "Global science is an abstraction that I admire, but I am not likely to want to sacrifice my highly concrete body for an abstraction that doesn't seem to exist. The whole point of your necessity is that it is Soviet science that is at stake, not global science."

  "Then consider American science," said Boranova, "If you help us, that will become an eternal part of the victory. It will become a joint Soviet-American victory."

  "Will my part be publicized?" demanded Morrison. "Or will the thing be announced as purely Soviet?"

  Boranova said, "You have my word."

  "You cannot commit the Soviet Government."

  "Horrible," said Kaliinin. "He judges our government by his own."

  Konev said, "Wait, Natalya. Let me talk to our American friend, man to man." He sat down by Morrison and said, "Albert, I appeal to your interest in your work. So far, you have achieved little in the way of results. You have convinced no one in your country and you don't have any chance of doing so as long as you are left with only the tools you have. We offer you a better tool, one whose worth you couldn't dream of three days ago and one which you'll never have again if you turn away from it now. Albert, you have the chance to graduate from romantic speculations to convincing evidence. Do this for us and you will become, at a bound, the most famous neurophysicist in the world."

  Morrison said, "You're asking me to risk my life on an untried technique."

  "That is not unprecedented. All through history, scientists have risked death to continue their investigations. They have gone up in balloons and have dipped under the seas in primitive armored spheres to make their measurements and observations. Chemists have risked dealing with poisons and explosives, biologists with pathogens of all types. Physicians have injected themselves with experimental sera and physicists, in attempting to establish a self-supporting nuclear reaction, knew well that the explosion that resulted might destroy them or, conceivably, the entire planet."

  Morrison said, "You spin dreams. You would never let it be known that an American played a role. Not when you confess your desperation at the possibility that Soviet science would lose the credit."

  Konev said, "Let's be honest with each other, Albert. We couldn't hide your share in this, even if we wished to. The American government knows we brought you here. We know they do. You know they do. They made no move to stop us because they want you here. Well, they will know - or at least guess - what we wanted you here for and what you did for us, once we announce our success. And they will see to it that American science, in your person, will get full credit."

  Morrison sat silently, head bent, for a while. There was a flushed spot, high on each cheek, as a result of the vodka he had drunk. Without looking, he knew that four pairs of eyes were firmly fixed upon him and he suspected that four breaths were being held.

  He looked up and said, "Let me ask you one question. How did Shapirov come to be in a coma?"

  There was again a silence and three of the pairs of staring eyes shifted to Natalya Boranova.

  Morrison, seeing that, also stared at her. "Well?" he said.

  Boranova said, "Albert, I will tell you the truth, even if that would tend to defeat our aims. If we try to lie to you, you will be right not to believe anything we say. If you see we are truthful, then you can believe us in the future. Albert, Academician Shapirov is in a coma because he was miniaturized, as we hope you will be. There was a small accident during deminiaturizing that destroyed part of his brain, apparently permanently. That can happen, you see, and we are not hiding it from you. Now give us the credit for utter frankness and say you will help us."

  Chapter 6. Decision

  We are always certain that the decision we have just made is wrong.

  — Dezhnev Senior

  23.

  Now, finally, Morrison rose, feeling a trifle unsteady on his feet - whether from the vodka, from the general tension of the day, or from this last revelation he did not know or care. He stamped his feet a little, as though to firm them, then deliberately walked the length of the small room and back.

  He faced Boranova and said in a harsh voice, "You can miniaturize a rabbit and nothing seems to happen to it. Did it occur to you that the human brain is the most complex bit of matter we know and that, whatever else might survive, the human brain might not?"

  "It did," said Boranova stolidly, "but all our investigations have shown us that miniaturization does not in the least affect the interrelationships within the object being miniaturized. In theory, even the human brain would not be affected by miniaturization."

  "In theory!" said Morrison with contempt. "How is it possible that, based on theory alone, you would experiment with Shapirov, whose brain you seem to value so highly? And having failed with him, to your enormous loss, how can you be so mad as to propose experimenting with me to recover that loss? You'll simply fail with me, too, and I cannot accept that."

  Dezhnev said, "Don't speak nonsense. We are not mad. Nothing we did was lightly undertaken. The fault was Shapirov's."

  Boranova said, "In a way, it was. Shapirov had his eccentric ways. 'Crazy Peter' I believe you call him in English and that is perhaps not so far off. He was intent on having the miniaturization experience. He was getting old, he said, and he would not, like Moses, reach the Promised Land without entering it."

  "He might have been forbidden to do so."

  "By me? I would forbid Shapirov? You can't be serious."

  "Not you. Your government. If the miniaturization process is so precious to the Soviet Union -"

  "Shapirov threatened to abandon the project altogether if he did not have his way and that could not be risked. Nor is our government quite so high-handed as it once was in its pressures on troublesome scientists. It must take world opinion into greater account now, as your government must. It is the price of global cooperation. Whether that is for the better or for the worse, I cannot say. In any case, Shapirov was eventually miniaturized."

  Morrison muttered, "Absolutely mad."

  "No," said Boranova, "for we did not move without precautions. Despite the fact that every exercise in miniaturization is costly and sends shivers through the Central Coordinating Committee, we insisted on a careful approach. Twice we miniaturized chimpanzees and twice we brought them back and could detect no changes in them - either as a result of minute studies of their behavior or by magnetic resonance imaging of the brain."

  "A chimpanzee is not a human being," said Morrison.

  "Something we were aware of," said Boranova gravely. "Therefore, we miniaturized a human being next. A volunteer. Yuri Konev, to be precise."

  Konev said, "It had to be me. It was I who felt most strongly that the human brain would not be affected. I am the neurophysicist of the project and it was I who made the necessary calculations. I would not ask another human being to risk his sanity on my calculations and my certainty. Life is one thing - we all los
e it sooner or later. Sanity is quite another."

  "So brave," whispered Kaliinin, looking at her fingertips, "the deed of a true Soviet hero." Her lip trembled, as though on the brink of a sneer.

  Looking firmly at Morrison, Konev said, "I am a loyal Soviet citizen, but I did not do it for nationalist motives. They would be, in this case, irrelevant. I did it as a matter of decency and of scientific ethics. I had confidence in my analysis and of what worth was my confidence if I would not risk myself on it? And it is a matter of something else, too. When the history of miniaturization is recorded, I will be listed as the first human being ever to have been subjected to the process. That will eclipse the deeds of a great-grand-uncle of mine who was a general fighting the German Nazis in the Great Patriotic War. And I would be pleased with that, not out of vainglory but out of a belief that the conquests of peace should always be held superior to victories in war."

  Boranova said, "Well, putting ideals to one side and passing on to the facts. Yuri was miniaturized twice. First, he was taken down to about half his height and was restored in perfect order. Then he was miniaturized to the size of a mouse and again was restored in perfect order."

  Morrison said, "And then Shapirov?"

  "And then Shapirov. He was by no means easy to control even this far. He argued vociferously for the chance to be the first person miniaturized. After Konev's first venture into the small, it was all we could do to persuade him to wait for a second and more drastic attempt. After that we could control him no more. Not only were we forced to miniaturize him, but he swore that he would abandon the project and somehow make his way out of the country to begin a miniaturization project elsewhere if we did not miniaturize him to a greater extent than we had Konev. We had no choice. If 'Crazy Peter,' as you call him, were mad enough to speak of emigrating, that would go beyond what the government would be willing to allow even in these days. We didn't want him in prison, so we miniaturized him to the size of a cell."