by John Ringo
“Yes, ’octor,” he said. “Sort of.”
“Well I think the only way to fix you is to turn back the clock,” she continued. “We can’t fix you all at once because what is going wrong is all your nerve cells, including your brain. We have to… work on one piece at a time. But in very rapid succession. Shut down one nerve or a series of nerves, cut them out of the system, repair or replace them and then reactivate that section.
“What we have to do is, in essence, kill bits of you and then bring them back to life. Somewhat like a Frankenstein monster.”
“A whuh?”
“Never mind, old, old reference. But you understand the general idea?”
“Yes,” he said. “But ’hat about… you know.” He tapped his head.
“That’s the tricky bit,” she admitted. “I’m going to let the autodoc do the rest of your body more or less by itself. What I’ll do is monitor the brain repair. I think we can work our way through bit by bit. The brain is always active, but bits of it are inactive at times. We’ll work on them bit by bit.”
“Oh.” Herzer blew out a breath. “ ’At’s…”
“Scary,” she admitted. “In addition, beforehand, we’ll take a… picture of you off-line, something like a Transference. Because of your scrambled signals it probably won’t be a good picture. If we have to use it, I’m not sure that you’ll be fully functional. If we fix the body and then re-Transfer I think that you’ll survive. But you might end up with amnesia or even being back to something like a baby, having to relearn everything. Or you might be unrecoverable. You might not be able to learn, and spend the rest of your life as a baby. Or… you could die.”
He thought about that for a bit then shrugged. “I’m ’oing to ’ie anyway. Is there an up side?”
“Oh, yes,” she said with a nod. “I’m fairly confident the procedure will work, otherwise I wouldn’t risk it.”
“ ’en?” he asked. “If you think it ’ill ’ork. I’m… I’m dying by inches doctor.”
“I can do it now if you wish,” she admitted. “To tell you the truth, I’m prepped and feeling very positive. But if you want to think it over…?”
“No,” he said after a moment. “I th-ink that now is as good a time as any. Are ’e going to a repair module?”
“No,” she said, gesturing at his chair. “Nothing will get opened, probably nothing will shut down, and the nannites can handle it if it does. Right here is as good as anywhere.”
“Okay,” he said with a deep breath. “ ’at ’o I ’o?”
“Lean back and close your eyes,” she replied.
When she was sure he was in place, she activated the medical field, started the program and closed her own eyes.
The nannite field locked his body in place, put his brain into a suspended sleep state and began the process of repair.
From her point of view his body changed to a colored representation. The areas that had not been repaired were various shades of yellow, with a blue field sweeping up from his feet. She monitored the body repair process for a moment to ensure it was working well, diving in to molecular level to check on the process.
At that level individual nannites, represented by small ovals, were diving into each cell of his body to replace the affected genes. The actual materials that did the work were not nannites per se but an RNA strand a bit less complicated than a virus. The nannites would handle cell and nucleus entry then drop the packet. It went in, did a fast stitch on the specific genes to be repaired then bonded back onto the nannite, which then proceeded to the next cell.
The process was not perfect on the first flow-through. Genes were not found only in the nucleus and some of the problem codons were free-floaters. These were swept up and modified by specialized nannites represented by diamond figures. These nannites also handled modification of cells that were in the process of mitosis and did other “cleanup” jobs.
In addition the nerve cells were having to be switched out entirely. It was that or modify them one protein at a time since both the neurotransmitter production and binding sites were damaged. In each case transmitter nannites bonded to the cells, sent a copy of them “off-line” waited until a repaired copy was completed and then switched them out in one fell swoop.
It was this repair that was the most problematic on the “body” end of the process but it seemed to be working fine. Some of the motor cells seemed to have a hard time “reinitializing” but eventually, in no more than three seconds, they all began responding perfectly.
Sure that the easy end was functioning, she shifted her attention to the brain.
While she had been observing the work on the lower extremities, the doctor program had been cutting off all input to the brain itself. For the process to work, brain function had to be at a minimum. There was nothing that they could do about random processing and “wandering thoughts” but they could cut back on all sensory inputs and motor functions. In effect, the brain was put into sensory deprivation.
However, it couldn’t be full sensory deprivation. Full SD causes the brain to assume that damage has occurred to its inputs and brain activity raises to frantic levels. What happened instead is that the nannites sent in preprogrammed impulses, soothing ones, that lulled the brain into thinking that everything was working well. Better, in fact, than it had been for some time.
Meanwhile other nannites took up the business of ensuring the body kept functioning.
Using the inputs while feeding selective data into the system and reducing neurotransmitter production, the nannites slowly reduced brain function to a crawl. The effect was similar to being heavily drugged, but cell-by-cell specific.
As soon as the brain functions reduced to a minimum acceptable level, the doctor program signaled that it was prepared to begin replacement.
As with the body, Daneh had determined to start with the simplest and least important portions of the brain first. Most portions of the brain were critically important, but losing some parts, notably small portions of the parietal lobes, was recoverable. Thus they started there.
Daneh’s vision was filled with flashing lights. Each of the lights represented a functioning neuron, sending or receiving information. The brain functioned holographically so a neuron might be communicating with another neuron far, far away. However, all of them had to shut down from time to time and it was when they went “dark” that the program would strike.
In a separate room a complete brain, identical to Herzer’s but with repaired cells and controlled input/output, had been reproduced cell by cell and then put into stasis. Using teleport nannites the program now grabbed the cells, one by one, and replaced them, in situ.
Daneh, and the doctor program, watched carefully but the process seemed to be functioning fine. Replaced cells appeared to activate normally and the standard rhythms of Herzer’s sleeping brain didn’t even flicker.
Once the parietal lobes were replaced they delved into deeper and more dangerous territory. Bit by bit the cerebral cortex was replaced, then the thalamus and hypothalamus, cerebellum, pons and portions of the medulla.
Finally the only part left to replace was the reticular activating center.
Daneh had left this for last because it was the trickiest. The RAC was the part of the brain that controlled and activated all the rest. As such, its cells were rarely quiescent. And if it went “off-line” the rest of the brain wouldn’t function.
The human body has tricks, though. Under certain conditions, notably electric shock, the whole body can shut down then start back up again.
Daneh was faced with a choice. The rest of the body was repaired, every neuron firing perfectly and now producing the proper amount of neurotransmitters and binding to them in the proper fashion. She could leave the reticular activating center alone, and Herzer would be almost completely fixed, and might survive to a ripe old age with only occasional epileptic fits, or she could shut the whole thing down, switch it out and hope that the brain would come back “on-line.”
>
She didn’t hesitate long since she had made her mind up before starting the process. After a moment’s pause she ordered the program to continue.
At the command flashed from the central routine, shielded nannites scattered throughout the body hammered the patient with a high voltage, low amp, current.
As Herzer’s body spasmed and the whole system went into momentary shut-down, the teleport nannites smoothly removed the entire RAC and replaced it with its repaired duplicate.
Daneh waited breathlessly for the brain to begin normal function, but instead the systems continued to flash randomly, without any of the normal rhythms she had come to recognize.
“Oh, shit,” she whispered under her breath. “Hit him again.”
Again the nannites hammered the boy with a jolt of dispersed electricity, but the rhythms still didn’t restart.
“Once more,” she whispered. “Up the voltage thirty percent.”
This time the representation of the body arched in his chair, straining against the force-field that held him in place.
Daneh watched the flickering lights for a moment then breathed a sigh of relief as they settled down into a steady alpha rhythm.
“Run a full diagnostic and make sure that no damage was done from the jolts,” she said, opening her eyes to look at the boy across from her. Under the diffuse light of the room he appeared wan. But he was also alive and that counted for much.
“All appears to be functional,” the doctor program responded. Its representation was another disembodied male head, which nodded at the patient. “There was some minor muscle damage from the last shock, but all of that is repaired and all the neurotransmitters are operating within norms. He appears to be ‘fine.’ ”
“Okay,” she said. “Bring him up slowly and let’s see what wakes up.”
Waking Herzer up took far longer than putting him under. As each of the neurotransmitter sites was unblocked, the doctor program and Daneh carefully monitored his progress. But all appeared to be well. Finally, the only lock on his processes was an induced sleep state and when they took that off he almost immediately blinked his eyes.
“Whrrl,” he muttered then blinked again. “R’ we done?” He worked his jaw for a moment then sat forward, tentatively. “This is weird.”
“How do you feel?” Daneh asked carefully.
“Like I’ve been gi’en a di’rent body, I think,” he replied. He had started with some articulation problems, but they were rapidly fading. “But it’s starting to feel right again. It’s been so long.”
“Hmmm. We probably should put you through a course of physical therapy like when a person Changes.” She thought for a moment then nodded. “Yes, that would be right, one designed for delphino reversals would be about right. And a full set of cerebral tests.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes.
“Are you okay, doctor?” Herzer asked, stretching out his hand. “Hey, look! It’s not shaking!”
“I’m fine, just tired,” she said with a smile. “Have you noticed the time?”
“Oh,” he replied, turning inward and grimacing. “Four hours?”
“Four tedious hours,” Daneh said with another slight smile. “Would you mind if I let the projection take over? I’d like to go home and get some rest.”
“Go ahead, doctor,” he said. “I’m feeling much better already.”
* * *
Daneh translated into her own home with a sigh. A human could live anywhere at any time and some did so, traveling on “walkabout” — actually “apport about” to be technical — with no particular place to call “home.”
Most humans, though, opted for some comfort place, created to their desires. Some, at the opposite end of the spectrum from the Walkers, never left their homes their whole lives, opting for scenes and recreations of places they had never been and never would go. Most, like Daneh, simply kept a particular home, or homes, as convenient places to recover from the pace of life.
The main room was all cool tones with comfortable floaters scattered at apparent random. Wallscreens replicated an idealized jungle with colorful parrots flying from tree to tree and an ocean crashing on a perfect white sand beach. Out-of-the-way corners were filled with a riot of flowering, nonpollinating, plants. The room was huge, easily large enough to accommodate a crowd of fifty, but the air currents were such that it was all kept at a pleasantly cool twenty-one degrees with slight breezes and just a hint of the seashore. On one side of the room a huge fireplace dominated the room, a relic, she joked, of her atavistic past.
Daneh was one of the few humans who had a real and distinct knowledge of the location of their home. When she was still attending Faire she had once traveled to Raven’s Mill by ground transportation “to get in the mood.” Since only the great farming plains in the middle of the continent still used ground transportation to any large extent, there were very few roads of any quality. Over the millennia since teleportation and replication had become the norm humans had worked very hard on returning the world to a condition of wilderness, one that replicated as much as possible prehuman, much less preindustrial, conditions. A few high quality roads were maintained by revivalists — the group that Edmund was a part of maintained a stone-paved road from the Atlantis Ocean to the Io River — but in general the few tracks that the Renn people used were just that, dirt tracks through howling wilderness.
Such a wilderness surrounded her own home. The south side of the house faced on a sheer cliff, at the base of which was the Gem River. The sides were cleared back for a few dozen yards giving spectacular views of the forest to the east and west, and there was a large field that once had a couple of ponies and horse gracing it on the north side running along the top of the ridge. But beyond that was miles and miles of virgin forest, rolling hills with no humans to be found. Occasionally, when she looked out at night, she could see a light or two twinkling in the distance. She had neighbors across the valley to the west, she knew that, and a few on the far side of the Gem River. But other than that… nothing.
Sometimes, when she walked out the door and looked at the wilderness surrounding her, it was a bit frightening. Especially after Edmund told her there had once been a major city on the same spot. That once vast armies had battled over the very land her house now stood upon.
So she generally closed her door. And looked at her wallscreens.
She wandered through the room, through an open door — only the faint unnoticed tinkle of a force-screen sectioned off the hallway — and down the short corridor to her daughter’s room.
She knocked at the edge of the door then stuck her head through the opaqued field. At the sight on the other side she had to give a mental growl; no matter how large a space, a teenage female could trash it all.
Rachel’s bedroom was nearly three times as large as the livingroom, with a canopied bed, on a stepped dais, in the exact middle. All of the walls gave on a tropical seascape, giving the impression that the bed was set on the edge of a beach with songbirds in the background and wafting tradewinds blowing through the room.
Surrounding the bed, like truly tasteless gifts laid at the feet of some ancient queen, was the detritus of teenage life. There were dresses and pants and shirts and shorts and data crystals and makeup keys and toys of every conceivable stripe and kind piled in heaps all over the steps and in lower and lower piles all the way to the floor with only a narrow walkway to the door. About the only thing that wasn’t in the heaps was food; Daneh had to draw the line somewhere.
In the middle of the heap, reclined in the midst of the clutter, rolled halfway into a silk caftan, was Azure the house lion. The cat was a bit over a half meter at the shoulder, white except for red-orange highlights on the tips of the ears and in stripes along the shoulder, and had bright blue eyes. It weighed nearly sixty kilos, most of it muscle.
House lions were a popular pet because they fulfilled roles of both cats and dogs. They were nearly as independent as cats, but responded better to training and bonded somewhat lik
e dogs. They also responded to an “alpha-beta” hierarchy so that they could be controlled by reasonable discipline training despite their size. It was good that they could be, because the house lion was a deadly predator. More than once the great cat had presented them with a dead raccoon on the back porch and on one notable occasion it had turned up, badly scratched and with one ear torn away, with a dead bobcat nearly its own size. On other occasions it had gotten into scrapes with coyote packs, generally to the detriment of the coyotes.
The physical genetics of the cat derived from a mix of lion, house cat and leopard, and they had all the enormous strength and hunting guile of the latter. House lions in areas where they were found had been known to take on full grown female leopards and win. It was probable that Azure, who was large for his species, could take on a full grown mountain lion and win. They had heard pumas near the house from time to time and Rachel or Daneh had always been careful to bring Azure into the house lest he run afoul of one of the cats. They, of course, didn’t want to have their pet die in a pointless battle, but what would be even worse in a way would be explaining how their house lion killed a puma to one of the self-appointed Wilderness Rangers.
Azure had been a present from Edmund for Rachel’s fourth birthday and the cat had known immediately who was its “person.” Whenever Rachel was in the house, Azure would not be far away.
Rachel was flipping through a series of holograms that were just too far away for Daneh to see clearly. But she was pretty sure that she knew what they were.
“Hello, dear, how was your day?” Daneh said, wondering which response she would get. Lately Rachel seemed to be changing back and forth between monosyllables, rage, and her normal sunny good nature on some arcane schedule comprehensible only to her and an ancient Babylonian entity. On the other hand, Daneh remembered the same phase in her own life and tried to give her daughter exactly as much slack as she, herself, had been given. None.
“Fine, Mom,” Rachel said, setting the viewer down and waving at her mother to come all the way into the room.
