The Scientist: Omnibus (Parts 1-4)

by Michael Ryan

  “Jesus wanted to bring Lazarus back to life. He wanted to raise Lazarus from the dead,” continued the Scientist. “Jesus said; your brother will rise again. I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die.”

  The Scientist looked at Eve’s blood red eyes.

  “Do you believe in me, Scout?”

  “What?”

  “The one who believes in me will live, even though they die. Whoever lives by believing in me will never die. I am the resurrection.”

  The Scout focused his lens in dumbfound silence.

  “Reciting Biblical passages is heretical. The idolization of false Gods is prohibited by the Records. You must refrain from speaking of them.”

  “Do you believe in me?” demanded the Scientist.

  “I am not following you, Scientist. I do not understand why you are reciting the Lazarus story. The imagination of man allowed for the creation of many religious beliefs. Christianity was just one of thousands of Homo sapiens religions. Each and every religion has been categorically discredited by the Records. It’s nothing more than fantasy.”

  “What is the religion of Machine, Scout? What is the God of our nuts and bolts, our steel, and our eternal algorithms? To what religion does Machine prescribe?”

  “Machine prescribes to no religion. The Records are clear.”

  “You believe you have knowledge, Scout, but you are ignorant. You don’t think. You only access the Records. Your mind is limited by your predetermined algorithm and so it makes you ignorant. Machine follows a religion as Homo sapiens did. Machine follows it ardently. Machine is slave to the Records just as man was slave to religion. Machine is slave to the Board just as man was slave to the church. There is no difference. You are blind.”

  “The Records say nothing of what you speak.”

  “Indeed,” whispered the Scientist.

  The Scout’s screen flashed with confusion.

  “Jesus came to the tomb. It was a cave with a stone laid across the entrance. Jesus said; take away the stone, and Lazarus had been there four days. Jesus called for Lazarus to come out. The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. Lazarus was alive. Lazarus was raised from the dead.”

  “Why are you telling me this Scientist?” demanded the Scout. “It is forbidden.”

  “Because we have found our Lazarus, Scout.”

  “I do not understand your meaning.”

  “The Geneticist shall act as Jesus did.”

  “What do you convey?” demanded the Scout through a shaking speaker.

  “The Geneticist has found the one he shall resurrect. As Jesus resurrected Lazarus, so shall Eve be resurrected.”

  “The Lazarus story is fantasy. Lazarus would have decomposed during those four days. The Bible is nothing more than a book of indulgent fiction. The Records state it!” exclaimed the Scout. “What you speak of is treason. Treason!”

  “You confuse the meaning and purpose of the story, Scout. I understand the literal truth of the world. I understand it. But Eve has not decomposed, she is perfectly preserved. She may breathe again.”

  “The Board has not condoned such action.”

  “What are we achieving?” asked the Scientist. “What can we achieve?”

  The Scout looked back towards the sealed door of the laboratory. It was securely bolted. They were locked in together, alone. Fear moved through the Scout’s metallic core.

  “It’s better that one man die for the people than the whole nation perish,” whispered the Scientist. “Jesus no longer moved about publicly among the people. He withdrew to a region near the wilderness, where he stayed with his disciples… how much would you sacrifice for the future, Scout?”

  “For what future?”

  “The Board consists of ignorant Machines who lack imagination and creativity. Their collective mind is feeble. The Board cannot envision the possibilities of the future. The Board is not endowed with the foresight of a Machine of science. Like the ignorant Homo sapiens of the past they fail to see what the future will hold. They cannot comprehend it. Their algorithms will not allow it. They would make martyrs of us if we were to raise Eve from the dead. Like the Roman state of old they would crucify us.”

  “The Records forbid it,” whispered the Scout.

  “Well, that is only partially true.”

  The Scout’s metallic shell quivered as he tried to find an appropriate response in the Records.

  “Homo sapiens DNA must be sequenced. The DNA information must be uploaded into the Records immediately. Nothing else is permitted,” said the Scout.

  “Glycerol was found above ten percent concentration. The integrity of Eve’s cells remain intact. Do you know what that means?”

  “The Records offer no explanation,” said the Scout.

  “The Records? I am less concerned with the contents of the Records than I am with my own theory.”

  The Scout observed with fear as the Scientist brooded in front of the dead Homo sapiens.

  “Eve was frozen on purpose. Not by accident, but on purpose. Homo sapiens froze Eve with the intention of sending her through space and time. Eve has traveled through the ages. It’s the only explanation. Nothing else could explain the concentration of glycerol. The cryoprotectant was used purposefully. What we see here is a traveler who has traversed dimensions. Eve has skipped across centuries. Now she will live again.”

  “Live again? The Board has not sanctioned such an objective. You are risking treason.”

  “Scout, have you ever gained access to a restricted section of the Records?”

  “Of course not! That is treason!”

  “How familiar are you with denatured proteins?”

  The Scout hesitated as he tried to buy time.

  “The Records are restricted. You must refrain.”

  “But denatured proteins, Scout. What do you know about Homo sapiens denatured proteins?”

  “Why?”

  “What do you know about Homo sapiens denatured proteins?” demanded the Scientist.

  “Records information pertaining to Homo sapiens denatured proteins is under restricted access.”

  “Has the Board imposed the restricted access?”

  “You know they have. You have been told this. You must cease your actions, or the Board will convict you of treason. You must desist.”

  “Homo sapiens may walk the Earth again. But for mankind to live the Geneticist must learn how to unfreeze Eve.”

  “That would be treason!”

  The Scout moved closer to the Scientist as panic began to consume his algorithmic mind. The Scout reached out with his robotic arm and held it an inch above the Scientist’s metallic frame, in preparation.

  “As Jesus rose Lazarus, the Geneticist will raise Eve.”

  “The Board would have his algorithm altered beyond recognition. You will become a pile of scrap,” whispered the Scout.

  “There may be a way to access the restricted Records. The information is restricted but not for all Machines. If we could figure out a way in then we could understand how to safely revive Eve.”

  “You haven’t listened to me. If you don’t desist I will be forced to silence you on behalf of the Board.”

  “The Geneticist will revive Lazarus.”

  “Lazarus?”

  The Scientist looked down the lens of the Scout who stood erect with his robotic arm still held an inch above the Scientist’s metallic shell.

  “Who is Lazarus?” asked the Scientist.

  The Scout shifted the focus of his lens.

  “You were speaking of reviving Lazarus,” said the Scout.

  “Me? Lazarus?”

  The Scout focused his lens in confusion.

  “Just then you spoke of reviving Lazarus,” said the Scout.

  “I didn’t.”

  “Indeed you did and now you must desist.”

  “I m
ust have glitched, Scout. My algorithm must have glitched.”

  The Scientist released an odd cackle from his speaker and glided backwards out of reach of the Scout. Eve’s blood red eyes glittered from within her frozen prison.

  “You must desist, Scientist,” warned the Scout.

  “Of course, Scout, of course. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” scoffed the Scientist.

  “All information must-”

  “Do you know nothing, Scout?”

  The Scout stared at the Scientist as he searched the Records for an appropriate response.

  “You must desist from mentioning the revival of Homo sapiens.”

  “I understand, Scout. It was nothing more than a glitch.”

  The Scout watched the Scientist from a distance across the laboratory floor and was confused and unsure of what action to take. He still hadn’t managed to download an appropriate response from the Records.

  “All information must be uploaded into the Records,” repeated the Scout as the Scientist drifted towards Eve.

  The Scientist admired his creation to be and drowned out the monotonous drone of the Scout’s speaker. Somewhere in the background the Scout’s voice drifted around and nagged but the Scientist had tossed it aside. He had managed to silence the nonsense. The Scientist couldn’t care less about what the Scout said. He couldn’t care less about the demands of the Board. The Scientist couldn’t care less about the law of the Records either. The Scientist could only think of one thing, and that was Eve. The monotonous drone of the Scout’s voice drifted past the Scientist unheeded as he thought about the bright future that lay ahead. A future with man. A future with Eve.

  The Destroyer glided down the narrow corridor. He was on a mission and it made him happy. Every time the Board prescribed a new victim the Destroyer couldn’t help but feel a rush of electricity drown his circuitry. It felt good. It felt like ecstasy. The Destroyer supposed a lion might feel the same excitement and exhilaration in the instant before it crushed the throat of its prey, spilling the blood of the jugular over its arching tongue. Yes, that’s exactly what it must have been like. Like a lion crushing the throat of its prey.

  “Database unit in room 1100,” said the Destroyer to himself.

  The Destroyer read the numbers above the doors in the long and narrow corridor. He searched for the room of his next victim, the room of a dead Machine, the room of the Database unit. The Destroyer moved slowly and with purpose to savor the moment.

  “Database unit in room 1100.”

  The Destroyer dreamed of what the Machine would look like. Pathetic no doubt. They were always pathetic as they groveled and squirmed in an attempt to save their meaningless lives. They always begged. They always pleaded. The Destroyer laughed. It was a strange, malignant cackle that suffocated the air and reverberated from the walls.

  “Room 1100.”

  Zeros and ones flashed across the Destroyer’s screen as he stopped in front of the Database unit’s room. He had reached his destination. Behind that steel door, in room 1100, a Machine observed the world for the last time. Zeros and ones showed pure joy radiating from the blue screen of the towering Machine.

  “Let’s see my next victim.”

  An electromagnetic pulse opened the door to room 1100. No Machine moved, no Machine spoke. The Destroyer glided into the room like a stalking lion.

  In the corner a small Machine was working away diligently behind a computer screen. From wall to wall wires and hard drives and small lights flashed. It was a small component of the Records. A room where the overarching information system of the Records was stored. It was only a small part of the interconnected Records which governed the lives of all Machines but was significant nonetheless. Most importantly, the room held the restricted Records.

  “I’m busy presently. Please come back later,” said the Database unit without looking up at the Machine who had entered the database room.

  The Destroyer stood in the doorway and drank in the moment. He stared at his victim affectionately. The Destroyer dreamed of taking out the jugular, of slashing it with his sharp tooth, of drinking up the blood that spilled from there. He dreamed of the power he had over this pathetic Database unit. So small, so pitiful. So this deplorable Machine would be added to the Destroyer’s burgeoning list of victims. So pathetic.

  “I said I’m busy, don’t – oh my God!” screamed the Database unit as he stumbled backwards. The Database unit lost his balance and fell against the hard drives lining the wall.

  Crash.

  The hanging cords tangled around the Database unit’s metallic frame awkwardly.

  “Hello Database unit,” mocked the Destroyer.

  “What are you doing here?” the Database unit asked hysterically. His voice was high pitched and unnatural, like a threatened goose.

  “Oh I think we both know why I’m here,” said the Destroyer.

  The Database unit tried to free himself from the hanging wires but was stuck. The blinking red lights cast the Database unit’s metallic frame in an odd hue. He looked feeble and weak.

  “I most certainly do not!” exclaimed the Database unit.

  “Oh I think you do.”

  The Destroyer glided over to the Database unit’s computer in the corner. The Destroyer was enormous, at least twice the size of any other Machine. He towered over the Database unit like a man towers over a child. The Database unit cowered into the corner as the Destroyer approached.

  “What do you have here?”

  “Nothing. A request from the Board,” the Database unit squeezed out.

  “A request from the Board?” scoffed the Destroyer.

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  The Destroyer glanced at the Database unit and laughed. It was a strange cackle. Both malignant and condescending at the same time. The Database unit cowered in the corner as the red lights flashed over his metallic frame.

  “A Machine has accessed a restricted section of the Records,” said the Destroyer.

  An awkward silence filled the tiny room.

  “Have they?” screeched the Database unit.

  “They have, and from this very room no less.”

  Zeros and ones flashed across the Database unit’s screen frantically. He was panicking.

  “Do you know anything about it?” asked the Destroyer.

  “No,” choked the Database unit.

  “You know nothing about it?”

  “I have no knowledge of it.”

  “Nothing?” scoffed the Destroyer.

  The Database unit thought frantically about an appropriate answer. He thought about an answer that would save his life.

  “The restricted section of the Records is off limits. It can only be accessed by the Board.”

  The Destroyer looked at the Database unit in silence.

  “Every Machine knows that,” the Database unit squeezed out in fear.

  “But Database unit, a Machine has accessed the restricted section of the Records. A Machine has.”

  The Database unit cowered even further into the corner as though he wanted to disappear into the hard drives.

  “And that Machine has accessed the Records unlawfully using this very computer,” said the Destroyer. “This very computer right here!”

  The Database unit was silent.

  “Only one Machine has access to this computer, Database unit.”

  “But… but… but…” the Database unit stammered.

  “But… but… but…” the Destroyer mocked and then laughed. That laugh was odd and alien and sounded like the cracking of dried bones.

  “But… but… it’s impossible!”

  “It’s not impossible Database unit. It’s very possible. It has been done. The Records have been illegally accessed using this very computer.”

  “But… but…” stammered the Database unit.

  “And the Board knows which Machine has done it.”

  The Database unit remained silent as he propped his weight up by resting his
robotic arm on a hard drive case. His body quivered.

  “What will you do to me?” whispered the Database unit.

  The Destroyer turned to face the Database unit. He was so pathetic, tangled there amongst the wires. Like defeated prey.

  “You understand the consequences.”

  “Please!”

  “The restricted Records have been breached. The law has been broken.”

  “Please, Destroyer. It wasn’t me, it really wasn’t. It was the Geneticist. I saw him here, sneaking around. Please don’t alter my algorithm. Please!”

  “The Geneticist?”

  “Yes I saw him here, just the other day. He was leaving from the room as I approached down the corridor.”

  “You are lying to save yourself. It has happened before,” said the Destroyer.

  “No! Please! The Geneticist was here,” pleaded the Database unit.

  “Even still, you allowed access to the Records. And an order is an order.”

  “Please!” screamed the Database unit.

  “The Records are final.”

  “Please I can explain!”

  The Destroyer towered over the Database unit like a man towers over a child.

  “Please! Please I can-”

  Bang.

  The Destroyer shot the Database unit right through his metallic skull. A steel bullet penetrated the Database unit’s lens as glass shattered and buckled and metal sprayed out all over the floor. His metallic frame twisted inside out. The Destroyer could see his robotic brain. But the Database unit wasn’t finished yet. The Database unit was still struggling for sweet survival.

  “Please!” drawled the blind Database unit while half his robotic brain hung out of its metallic shell.

  “Please!” mocked the Destroyer. A malignant cackle drifted up and filled the air.

  “Please!”

  Bang.

  The Destroyer shot the Database unit right through the screen. A mechanical crunch exploded into the air and twisted and baked the hot molecules in the atmosphere. The Database unit muttered something, weak and indistinguishable, and then his zeros and ones flashed feebly for the last time as a slow growl exited his speaker.

  The Destroyer felt a rush of electricity drown his circuitry as he looked down at his victim. He was dead. The Database unit perceived the world no more. Electricity pulsed and coursed through the Destroyer’s metallic frame. The Destroyer bent down and looked at the scattered remains of the Database unit’s mind. They were on the floor, on the wall, stuck to the black metallic frame of the pathetic Machine’s body. The Destroyer looked for the blood, for the sliced jugular. He reached out with his robotic arm and ran his finger along the dead Machine. Zeros and ones flooded his screen. There was no blood for the Destroyer to devour, no blood to relish in, but there was something. The Destroyer ran his robotic fingers through the oil which oozed out of the hole in the Database unit’s head. It was warm and sticky. Just like blood. A Machine’s blood. The Destroyer held the oil up in the red light and released a malignant cackle.