The Scientist: Omnibus (Parts 1-4)

by Michael Ryan

  “Bring up the fourth day, Geneticist,” demanded the Scientist.

  “Then God commanded; let lights appear in the sky to separate day from night and to show the time when days, years, and religious festivals begin, they will shine in the sky to give light to the earth - and it was done. So God made the two larger lights. The sun to rule over the day and the moon to rule over the night; he also made the stars. He placed the lights in the sky to shine on the earth, to rule over the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness. And God was pleased with what he saw. Evening passed and morning came - that was the fourth day,” said the Geneticist.

  “You see, Geneticist, Homo sapiens is fallible. In one respect the Records are right. In his underdeveloped infant mind Homo sapiens tried to comprehend the Universe and he failed. He was wrong. He was misled. Do you know why?” asked the Scientist.

  The Geneticist looked back towards the laboratory door but still no Machine lurked there.

  “His belief system is founded on incorrect principles,” replied the Geneticist. “Homo sapiens was wrong. Genesis claims that on the first day light was created, yet on the fourth day the Sun was created. There would be no possibility of light on Earth without the Sun, ergo the assertion is false.”

  “An outstanding response. Your ability to think independently is second to none.”

  The Geneticist felt a flickering of pride at the Scientist’s words. He was good at thinking. He was very good. The Scientist had taught him well.

  “But perhaps light is a metaphor,” said the Geneticist after a silent pause. “The Records state that Homo sapiens was a superstitious animal fond of using figurative language to express himself. The figurative language used by Homo sapiens may have little relevance to physical reality and therefore can’t be taken as a literal interpretation. Perhaps light in this sense is a metaphor.”

  “Another outstanding response. Bravo, Geneticist.”

  The Geneticist’s screen exploded with zeros and ones as he was doped in praise.

  “Perhaps you are correct, Geneticist. Perhaps Homo sapiens meant it figuratively. Perhaps light here is metaphorical. But then again perhaps Homo sapiens didn’t intend for light to be figurative. Maybe Homo sapiens believed in the literal truth of every word. The premise of your conjecture seems to be contradictory.”

  The Geneticist focused his lens on the Scientist’s screen in an attempt to read his mind. But nothing revealed itself there. Just noise flashed there.

  “Continue with the story,” demanded the Scientist.

  The Geneticist couldn’t overcome his fear. It was building, tilting, consuming.

  “Accessing the biblical stories is sacrilegious,” the Geneticist squeezed out of his speaker. “If the Scout-”

  “I have already said the Scout will not learn of our actions. Have faith in me, Geneticist. Have I not already taught you well?”

  The Geneticist wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of; being caught by the Records or facing disparagement from the Scientist.

  “Then God commanded; let the water be filled with many kinds of living beings, and let the air be filled with birds. So God created the great sea monsters, all kinds of creatures that live in the water and all kinds of birds. And God was pleased with what he saw. He blessed them all and told the creatures that live in the water to reproduce and to fill the sea, and he told the birds to increase in number. Evening passed and morning came - that was the fifth day,” whispered the Geneticist.

  The Geneticist spoke as though each sentence was a great secret which would forever disappear if uttered too loudly. The words might crumble and break if they were cast out too harshly. They had to be preserved and cherished. The Scientist was clear, the words were sacred.

  “Eve,” whispered the Scientist.

  The albino female was frozen and suspended and lifeless. She was frail. She was skinny. She was dead.

  The Geneticist looked at the albino female as he heard that word whispered.

  Eve…

  The Scientist had used that name before. The name was familiar.

  “Shall I continue Scientist?” asked the Geneticist with a voice which had gained confidence.

  “Continue.”

  “Then God commanded; let the earth produce all kinds of animal life, domestic and wild, large and small - and it was done. So God made them all, and he was pleased with what he saw.”

  Eve’s face held an odd expression. In the instant Eve was frozen alive she must have screamed at the top of her lungs, and with great force, but her moan was trapped within a whisper. Her face was distorted and ugly. Red irises flashed oddly in the dismal light. The Geneticist focused on Eve’s wild animal eyes. The eyes which seemed as though they had been crafted from blood.

  “Continue,” whispered the Scientist.

  “Then God said; now we will make human beings; they will be like us and resemble us. They will have power over the fish, the birds, and all animals, domestic and wild, large and small. So God created human beings, making them to be like himself. He created them male and female, blessed them, and said; have many children so that your descendants will live all over the earth and bring it under their control. I am putting you in charge of the fish, the birds, and all the wild animals. I have provided all kinds of grain and all kinds of fruit for you to eat, but for all the wild animals and for all the birds I have provided grass and leafy plants for food - and it was done. God looked at everything he had made, and he was very pleased. Evening passed and morning came - that was the sixth day,” said the Geneticist in a voice not much louder than a whisper.

  “They will be like us and resemble us,” said the Scientist as he observed Eve’s red eyes.

  The Scientist could see his own reflection in the glass which stood between Eve and the stale air which suffocated space. The Scientist’s lens encompassed Eve’s head so that she appeared as though imprisoned within his mind.

  “They will resemble us.”

  Eve was trapped within the Scientist’s lens like a demon looking to escape from hell. In that moment the Scientist dreamed he and Eve were one. Man and Machine were one.

  “Have many children so that your descendants will live all over the earth and bring it under their control,” whispered the Scientist.

  The Geneticist shifted on the spot and felt awkward.

  “And the seventh day?” asked the Scientist.

  The Geneticist looked at the frail Homo sapiens. So odd. So strange.

  “And so the whole universe was completed. By the seventh day God finished what he had been doing and stopped working. He blessed the seventh day and set it apart as a special day, because by that day he had completed his creation and stopped working. And that is how the universe was created,” said the Geneticist as he focused his lens away from Eve’s frail body.

  “Just like that. Just like that God created man. He did nothing more than whisper the name of Homo sapiens and from the soil man rose. A man who could stand proud and tall. A man who understood his own existence. A man made in the image of God. Look at Eve, Geneticist. Look at her. Look at the resemblance of God.”

  The Geneticist moved away from the Scientist. Eve’s reflection bounced off the Scientist’s metallic fame. The Records said nothing of a Homo sapiens with red eyes. The Records said nothing of Homo sapiens with pale white skin. The figure of Eve drove fear into the robotic mind of the Geneticist.

  “Bring up God’s pronouncement of his judgment,” said the Scientist.

  The Geneticist said nothing.

  “I said bring up God’s judgment.”

  The Geneticist looked over his shoulder.

  “Perhaps we should cease. The Board may learn of our actions,” whispered the Geneticist.

  “I told you we are safe here, Geneticist. The Board will not know of our actions. Recite the passage.”

  The Geneticist remained silent and turned his lens away from the frozen Homo sapiens. The awkward silence penetrated both Machines.

 
“I said recite God’s pronouncement of his judgment!”

  “But if they learn of this the Board will punish us. The honoring of false idols is sacrilegious. The Scout will arrive any moment.”

  “Speak the words,” whispered the Scientist as he turned towards the Geneticist.

  The Geneticist cast his lens down towards the floor.

  “Adam named his wife Eve,” whispered the Geneticist. “Because she was the mother of all human beings.”

  “Eve,” whispered the Scientist as though in a trance.

  The Geneticist remained silent.

  “Eve shall be the mother of all human beings yet. Remember what we must do, Geneticist.”

  The Geneticist looked back towards the closed door of the laboratory. No Machine was there but the Scout had been assigned to the project. Surely he would arrive at any moment.

  “Remember what we must do. We must recreate Eve, Geneticist. Eve must walk this Earth again. Remember what we will achieve, together.”

  The Geneticist remained silent as he observed Eve’s dead flesh.

  “When we revive Eve, we will become Gods. We will whisper her name and she shall rise from the ashes and walk the Earth again.”

  The Geneticist felt fear move through his metallic frame. But for some odd reason he didn’t hate it. He didn’t despise it. Strangely, it was the opposite. That fear made him feel powerful. The fear made him feel wise. Maybe he would recreate Eve. Maybe he could become a God.

  “Do you know what else we need, Geneticist? Do you know what Eve will require?”

  “I don’t know,” said the Geneticist.

  “Surely you understand.”

  The Geneticist remained hesitant.

  “I don’t know, Scientist.”

  “She requires what God required. She requires what every female Homo sapiens required. She requires her man. She will need her Adam.”

  “We only have a female Homo sapiens.”

  “She will need her Adam. For man to survive, for man to breath, we need not only Eve. Not just Eve. We need Adam. Adam and Eve must walk this earth again. They will walk Eden again,” whispered the Scientist as he focused his lens on Eve’s frail body.

  Eve’s blood red eyes faced the two Machines but she could discern nothing. Her mind was blank. Eve couldn’t comprehend the Machines that observed her. No million neurons fired within her brain. No electrical pulses generated a billion signals a minute. No electromagnetic waves left those delicate folds of flesh and permeated space. All was blank. The most complex system in the universe responded to nothing. But there was hope. There was hope yet. There was hope because that complex system was still intact. Eve was cryogenically frozen but she was still intact. The integrity of Eve’s brain remained. Eve’s sentient mind held on by the finger nails as her existence clung to the edge of a precipice over an eternal abyss. And the Scientist knew it. He understood it.

  “If we can recreate Eve, if we can recreate Homo sapiens, then we will become creators. I will be the creator of mankind,” whispered the Scientist. “I shall utter Eve’s name and from the soil she shall rise. I am the resurrection come again. Soon I will become a God.”

  “Homo sapiens DNA must be sequenced. The DNA information must be uploaded into the Records immediately,” demanded the Scout.

  “What is the current temperature of Homo sapiens?” asked the Scientist.

  “-199 degrees Celsius, slightly below the boiling point of liquid nitrogen,” replied the Geneticist.

  “What is the temperature required for long term cryopreservation?”

  “Checking Records. Processing. -197 degrees Celsius,” replied the Geneticist.

  “Increase temperature by 3 degrees Celsius.”

  The Geneticist initiated the request and a large hissing sound permeated the molecules of free space.

  “Scientist, Homo sapiens DNA must be sequenced. The DNA information must be uploaded into the Records immediately,” demanded the Scout.

  “Current temperature?” asked the Scientist.

  “-198 degrees Celsius,” replied the Geneticist.

  “Maintain increase of temperature.”

  “Affirmative.”

  Eve hung lifeless in the queer frozen substance, colder than liquid nitrogen. She looked out at the Machines discussing her, but she could discern nothing. Her mind was frozen solid like a fleshy brick.

  “Homo sapiens DNA must be sequenced. The DNA information must be uploaded into the Records immediately,” repeated the Scout.

  “Current temperature?” asked the Scientist.

  “-197 degrees Celsius,” replied the Geneticist.

  “Estimated time until required temperature is realized?”

  “Required temperature obtained. Homo sapiens at -196 degrees Celsius.”

  “Good. Maintain static temperature at -196 degrees Celsius.”

  “Scientist, Homo sapiens DNA must be sequenced. The DNA information must be uploaded into the Records. The Records are clear!” exclaimed the Scout.

  The Scientist cast a menacing glance in the Scout’s direction, but said nothing.

  “What is the frozen matter?” asked the Scientist.

  “Analyzing.”

  Eve hung in suspended animation with her arms extended in front of her body. Her eyes looked like disfigured rubies as they refracted through the curved glass. Her arms hung limp over a shiny metallic ribbon. She was a butterfly pinned to a board, ready to be observed.

  “Liquid nitrogen used in the process of cryonics,” said the Geneticist.

  “Bring up the description of cryonics.”

  “Cryonics involves preserving Homo sapiens at low temperatures with the hope that healing and resuscitation may be possible in the future.”

  “More.”

  “The central premise of cryonics is that long term memory, personality, and identity are stored in durable cell structures and patterns within the brain that do not require continuous brain activity to survive. This was an accepted premise in Homo sapiens medicine. Under certain conditions the brain can stop functioning and later recover with retention of long term memory,” responded the Geneticist.

  “Homo sapiens DNA must be sequenced,” demanded the Scout.

  “What stress is imparted upon Homo sapiens cells during the cryonic process?” asked the Scientist.

  “Cells may burst due to the formation of ice crystals if the cell is frozen too quickly. Damage from freezing may have caused cell damage.”

  The Scientist looked at Eve’s frozen knees and wondered if she would ever walk again. They looked frail and bony. They looked like they would snap under the delicate pressure of a faint whisper.

  “How can cell damage be avoided?”

  “Cryonics requires the use of cryoprotectants at the time of freezing to reduce cell damage.”

  “Homo sapiens DNA must be sequenced. The DNA information must be uploaded into the Records immediately,” demanded the Scout from an inch behind the Scientist’s metallic frame.

  The Scientist turned to face the Scout.

  “Don’t stand so close to me,” warned the Scientist.

  “Homo sapiens DNA must be sequenced,” demanded the Scout.

  The Scientist and the Scout stood an inch apart.

  “We are assessing all aspects of Homo sapiens condition. Only once we understand the science can we sequence Homo sapiens DNA. Don’t you understand anything, Scout?”

  The Geneticist let out a mocking growl which sounded like laughter.

  “Homo sapiens DNA must be sequenced. The DNA information must be uploaded into the Records,” said the Scout after a moment of awkward silence.

  “And how exactly are we supposed to sequence DNA which is trapped within a frozen Homo sapiens cell?” mocked the Scientist.

  The Scout stared at the Scientist.

  “Homo sapiens DNA must be sequenced,” repeated the Scout.

  “You are a living incarnation of the Records. The Records in the metal. You are ridiculous.” />
  The Scout searched the Records for an appropriate response.

  “Bring up the test for determining the concentration of cryoprotectants,” demanded the Scientist as he turned away from the Scout.

  “Searching database.”

  “Have the Records been confirmed?”

  “Still processing.”

  “Estimated time of download?”

  “Download complete. Cryopreservant concentration test apparatus stored in unit 1010. Retrieval unit collecting the apparatus now.”

  “Good, well done.”

  Eve looked out at the aliens, at the Machines, but no thought materialized in her frozen brain. Eve just hung there, dead and with little hope.

  “Estimated time of arrival?”

  “Presently.”

  A large door opened in the distance and a Retrieval unit entered.

  “Chemical analyzer from unit 1010,” said the Retrieval unit.

  “Well done. That’s all,” said the Scientist.

  The Retrieval unit glided backwards until the door opened and he disappeared.

  “Current temperature of Homo sapiens?”

  “Stable at -196 degrees Celsius.”

  “Excellent. Geneticist, extract a Homo sapiens cell for cryoprotectant analysis.”

  The Geneticist moved to the outside of the cryonics apparatus. A hollow tube ran from the outside of the cryonics apparatus to Eve’s shoulder. With a mechanical crunch the Geneticist placed a needle inside the tube and a rush of air pushed through Eve’s skin. The Scout watched silently. Still he hadn’t found an appropriate response from the Records.

  “Cell sample obtained,” said the Geneticist.

  “Commence cryoprotectant analysis.”