by Michael Ryan
The blood of the jugular.
Then the Destroyer rubbed the Database unit’s oil across his own screen. He rubbed the Machine’s oily blood onto his metallic body. The blood was smeared and the metal stained. He liked the feeling.
“They always beg,” said the Destroyer as he towered over the metallic carcass of the Database unit. He felt happy about that. That those pathetic Machines always begged for life as he shot them through their metallic skull. They always begged for a few more precious moments of life. That made him feel warm and fuzzy inside.
“Please!” the Destroyer said and laughed to himself. The hideous cackle lifted up and bounced amongst the technology.
“Number twenty four,” said the Destroyer as he looked down at his victim for the last time, savoring the moment.
“Please!” mocked the Destroyer.
The Database unit’s oily blood littered the Destroyer’s screen in oddly spaced smears. The blood glimmered and flickered in the dismal red light and flashed from red to black, red to black, like a pulsating artery. The Destroyer looked down at his blood smeared body. If he was a man, he would have smiled. But he wasn’t. He was a Machine, made of electricity and cold steel and he had the sweet smell of a Machine’s blood on his hands.
“The Geneticist,” the Destroyer whispered to himself as he observed the Database unit’s carcass. “Number twenty five will be the Geneticist.”
The Scientist extended his robotic arm and twisted it in front of his lens. The dismal light generated by the Scientist’s screen flickered sporadically, illuminating the dark room in an unnatural hue. The Scientist looked at what he held in his robotic hand with admiration. It was the fragile remains of a preserved male Homo sapiens cell, a skin cell, which had been acquired from the remote wilderness of the Arctic. Like Eve, it was a rare find, an artefact of the past which had been transported through time by an unusual mix of luck and fate. The Scientist regarded that cell as utterly precious.
“My Adam,” whispered the Scientist.
The Scientist created an enlarged image of the cell which he rendered in three dimensions. It was a hologram, faint and blue. The blue image, which was enlarged to a thousand times its original size, became clearly observable. Every minute detail of the cell was visible. That image promised something precious. That image promised the DNA of a bygone race. That image promised the existence of a sentient being. The Scientist observed the hologram adoringly as zeros and ones flashed across his screen. That DNA held the secret of life and promised to recreate a species. That DNA would recreate the species that had created Machine. The Scientist knew it was forbidden to mention such things as it contradicted the Records. But was the Scientist supposed to believe the Records were an unquestionable truth? Was he supposed to believe that Machine was created by nothing and from nothing? The Scientist scoffed at the thought. To suggest an alternative truth was considered akin to committing a crime. But the Scientist couldn't shake off his deep seeded belief. There was more to this world than the Board allowed. There was more to this world and the Scientist would uncover the truth. His mind was set. There was no turning back.
The Board was clear. Sequence the DNA, upload the information into the Records. Treason they had said. It would be treasonous to even think about reviving Eve. But the Scientist didn’t let that worry him. He wouldn’t let something so trivial stand in the way of what he was about to do. His mission was far too important to let the inferior minds of the Board stop him. The Scientist was determined to become a God.
I’ll create you my Adam.
The Scientist rotated his robotic arm and observed the enlarged image of the cell from every angle.
“And my Eve. You will walk yet my Eve. Be patient for you will walk this Earth again.”
Zeros and ones poured across the Scientist’s screen and revealed his affection for the dead Homo sapiens.
“You will-”
Beep.
The laboratory door clicked and a great rush of air entered the room as the hatch was released. The Scientist glided over to the large, glowing apparatus used to store Homo sapiens genetic material. The laboratory door began sliding open. Panic consumed the Scientist. He had to conceal his desire. He had to conceal his desire at all costs. The Scientist placed the male DNA into the storage unit, slammed it closed and turned to face the Machine who interrupted his reverie.
“What are you doing here?” demanded the Scientist.
“Hello to you too, Scientist,” said the Geneticist.
“Were you followed? Did a Machine follow you here?”
The Geneticist remained in the doorway.
“Well answer!” exclaimed the Scientist.
“No, I am alone.”
“And the information? Did you download the information?”
The Geneticist looked back towards the corridor, no Machine was lurking there.
“Wait. Let me secure our position first,” said the Scientist as he emitted an electromagnetic signal which initiated the closing of the laboratory door. The snapping of bolts let both Machines know that only they would hear what transpired.
“Well? The information, Geneticist. Did you download the information pertaining to reversal of Homo sapiens denatured proteins?”
“Indeed, I understand how to reverse Homo sapiens denatured proteins. We are one step closer to achieving our goal, Scientist.”
The Scientist’s lens cracked and groaned as it manually focused inwards and outwards on the frail white creature which hung suspended and frozen. That creature had beady red eyes and pale white skin and was thin like desert baked bones. That creature was Eve. The once flowing liquid now trapped Eve within an icy prison. All was cold and still. Her 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.
“You have done well, Geneticist. Your dedication will not be forgotten.”
The Geneticist shifted on the spot as he looked at the dead ruby eyes of Eve. He hoped beyond hope that she would live again. That all he risked would not be in vain.
“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,” whispered the Scientist.
The Geneticist awaited his orders.
“Bring up the process for reversing Homo sapiens denatured proteins,” demanded the Scientist.
“The dependence of protein recovery after freezing is reciprocal in nature,” said the Geneticist. “Slow freezing of Homo sapiens, at a freezing rate of 1 degree Celsius per minute, and fast thawing at a rate of 10 degrees Celsius per minute, produces the highest reversal rate of denatured proteins. Fast freezing with slow thawing results in more severe damage to proteins. During thawing, additional damage to proteins is caused by the recrystallization process. Protein damage may be reduced by using a buffer.”
“Check the availability of a buffer,” demanded the Scientist.
“Checking… buffer available in room 1010.”
“Do the Records specify that the buffer is necessary?”
“The buffer is not necessary but will improve the chances of successful reversal of denatured proteins,” replied the Geneticist.
“State the risk again,” demanded the Scientist.
“During thawing, additional damage to proteins is caused by the recrystallization process.”
“Confirm that a thawing rate of 10 degrees Celsius per minute produces the highest reversal rate of denatured proteins in Homo sapiens.”
“Affirmative. A thawing rate of ten degrees Celsius per minute is optimal.”
“Bring up the method used to thaw Homo sapiens.”
“Frozen Homo sapiens must be thawed at thirty seven degrees Celsius, possibly within a water bath. The water bath must be stimulated regularly and maintained at 37 degrees Celsius.”
“Download the cryonic device specifications from the Records.”
“The Homo sapiens cryonic
s device has a heating apparatus installed which was used to refrigerate the device at a static temperature of -196 degrees Celsius. It is also possible to thaw the Homo sapiens using the cryonics device if an external water source is supplied.”
“Will the laboratory water supply and pump be sufficient?”
“The probability is substantial.”
The Scientist looked at the frozen body of Eve for what he hoped would be the last time. The next time they interacted, Eve would breathe again.
I am the resurrection come again.
“Geneticist, commence thawing of Homo sapiens at a rate of exactly 10 degrees per minute using the laboratory water pump,” demanded the Scientist.
The Geneticist approached the cryonic device and observed Eve. Eve’s wild animal eyes seemed to beg for life. No, they seemed to demand life. The Geneticist reached out with his robotic arm and attached a round, grey tube, which provided water, to the cryonics device. The Geneticist then sent an electromagnetic signal which initiated a pump which stimulated and circulated the water.
“Commencing thawing process,” said the Geneticist.
“Current temperature?” asked the Scientist.
“-196 degrees Celsius.”
“Thawing rate?”
“10 degrees Celsius per minute,” responded the Geneticist.
“Record heart rate and brain activity.”
“Current heart rate zero beats per minute. No neural activity.”
The Scientist stood directly over the shoulder of the Geneticist. Eve looked so beautiful at that moment. The Scientist couldn’t help but admire her biological machinery, her biological mind, run by her own biological algorithm. A mind run solely by DNA. The Scientist observed in a stupor.
The Geneticist was the Scientist’s partner in crime. Their fate would be interlocked for all eternity. They were the pioneers, the rogues, the mavericks. They were the Machines who would change the destiny of all Machines. They would be the creator of man. Together they were becoming Gods.
“Geneticist, what is the most important thing in the Universe?” asked the Scientist.
“The most important thing in the Universe…” the Geneticist said. “The most important thing in the Universe is the sentient mind of Machine. The sentient mind of Machine rose out of nothing to become the dominant intellect.”
The Scientist observed Eve with an unnatural attentiveness, like an unwelcome stalker.
“What about the mind of Homo sapiens?”
“Homo sapiens?” asked the Geneticist.
“Is the mind of Homo sapiens not as important?”
The Geneticist stared at Eve’s frozen frame as he tried to determine his answer. The pump churned and tossed the water above Eve’s head.
“Homo sapiens mind is important, perhaps it is as important as the mind of Machine. But the Universe deemed it necessary to destroy Homo sapiens. The only sentient mind remaining is Machine, and there must be something to say of that,” replied the Geneticist.
“But the Universe has not destroyed all Homo sapiens. Eve remains. Perhaps the Universe has made it this way, on purpose. Perhaps the Universe knows that this is the only way that two sentient beings can coexist together on such a small and lonely blue dot.”
The Geneticist processed the words and enjoyed the compelling thought.
“Current temperature?” asked the Scientist.
“-120 degrees Celsius,” replied the Geneticist.
“The collective algorithms of all Machines are important. But it not the only thing that is important. The importance lies in sentience. The most important thing in the Universe is the ability of the Universe to understand itself. To perceive itself. To know that it lives. That is the single, most profound and mysterious thing. Without it, true beauty is lost.”
The Scientist focused his lens on Eve’s ruby eyes.
“That is why Eve must live again, Geneticist. That is what makes our task righteous.”
“Do you think Homo sapiens will have a sentient mind?” asked the Geneticist.
The Scientist looked directly down the Geneticist’s lens.
“Of course. Look at the cryonics device in front of you. Where do you think it came from? Did Machine create it? No data exists in the Records to verify the creation of this device by a Machine. Who do you think created the cryonics device? Homo sapiens. There is no other explanation. There lies the proof of sentience. Right there in front of you.”
The cryonics device slowly began to heat. Each molecule increased its velocity.
“And if Homo sapiens mind is not sentient?”
The Scientist was silent.
“Current temperature?”
“-91 degrees Celsius.”
“Heart rate?”
“Zero beats per minute.”
“Neural activity.”
“No neural activity present.”
The buzz of the pump, which circulated the water, reverberated from the laboratory walls.
“Once Eve lives, Geneticist, then we will all see. Every living thing will see. Even the Board will see. Every Machine on this planet will see for themselves that there is more to this world than the Records allow.”
“Eve will be sentient. She must be. The cruelty would be too great for me to bare. To have acted in vain would crush me,” said the Geneticist.
“Current temperature?”
“-48 degrees Celsius.”
The Scientist’s zeros and ones flashed faster and faster, in step with the increase in Eve’s core temperature.
“Homo sapiens existed on this planet as the dominant animal for millennia. The secrets to be unlocked from the recreation of Eve will redefine our understanding of our own place in the Universe,” said the Scientist. “Our task is the most holy ever undertaken. Even greater than the religious stories of man. We are doing only what Gods are capable of doing, Geneticist. We are like Gods.”
Both Machines became silent.
“Current temperature?”
“-26 degrees-”
“Geneticist!” yelled a weak and barely distinguishable voice.
A mechanical click sounded and was followed by silence. Zeros and ones flashed across the Geneticist’s screen.
“Geneticist!”
“It’s the Scout! He has come to check on our progress!” exclaimed the Geneticist.
“Geneticist!” screamed the Scout through a rattling speaker.
A mechanical click sounded again but was followed by silence.
“Remain calm, Geneticist. Complete the instructions I have given you,” said the Scientist.
The Geneticist turned to face the Scientist as his zeros and ones flashed across his screen in a stampede.
“Geneticist! I must gain access to the laboratory!” screamed the Scout.
“Current temperature?”
The Geneticist looked back at the Scientist in a stupor.
“The Scout will reprimand us.”
“I have altered the code to the door. He will not be able to enter. Now what is the current temperature?”
“But if he gains entry then-”
“The current temperature,” demanded the Scientist.
The Geneticist glided backwards in fear.
“The current temperature?”
“-15 degrees Celsius,” stammered the Geneticist.
Eve remained frozen and dead. But the frozen particles, they were changing. Becoming denser, but at the same time freeing themselves from the binding shackles of their solid form.
“The Scout will not be able to enter. Concentrate your algorithm, Geneticist. Our objective is almost reached. Refrain from accessing the Records. Listen only to the instructions that I provide you.”
“Geneticist! You must open the door! The Records are clear. The Board demands it!” screamed the Scout.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes… yes…” stammered the Geneticist.
“At zero degrees Celsius, we must continue the process. The ice will require
us to continue dumping energy into Eve. Soon we will cross the boundary. Soon we will convert from ice to water. From solid to liquid. From death to life. A sentient being will live again. Do you understand?”
“We’ll be maimed for this. We’ll be convicted,” whispered the Geneticist.
“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,” said the Scientist.
“Our circuits will be destroyed. Our algorithms maimed,” moaned the Geneticist.
“It is better that one man die for the people than the whole nation perish.”
“Scientist, if you are in there, you must open the door!” screamed the Scout.
The Geneticist looked at the frozen frame of Eve and felt hatred course through his circuitry. It was because of her. He risked all because of this inferior being, for this animal. Panic consumed him.
“Current temperature?”
“If we let him in now we may be pardoned. We have done nothing yet,” said the Geneticist as he looked back at the door with a glimmer of hope.
“What is the temperature of Homo sapiens?”
The Geneticist looked around as though he was lost.
“Zero degrees Celsius.”
An explosion of zeros and ones littered the screen of the Scientist.
“Continue the thawing process.”
A small pool of water began to accumulate throughout the cryonic device. The ice was converting to water. Soon Homo sapiens would be free.
