by Saul Garnell
“They use oxygenated blood, don’t they?” Sumeet questioned, while panning around a few Sentients here and there.
“The same as us,” Gupta said. “There’s just about a one-to-one relation between our bodies and the housing. But if you ask me honestly, it’s not all that interesting. More fascinating is their brain physiology, and the internal structures which separate them from humans.”
Sumeet turned, still shaking his head in awe. “They seem much larger than us, from the volume I see here.”
“Oh, yes, they have greater brain capacity,” Gupta said, using another section of wall flexi to bring up a brain schematic. “With greater mass, they have more of everything. Logic, memory, neurological input and output. Greater redundancy too, I might add.”
Sumeet and Shinzou walked over to Gupta’s area of the wall, peering with great interest at what he was about to explain.
“If you look here, here, and here,” Gupta said, pointing his scrawny finger over a three-dimensional map of a Sentient Brain. “You’ll see areas of their cortex which differ significantly. This is the key. We’ve modified basic instinctual drives.”
“Like the removal of their sex drive,” Shinzou said, grinning.
Gupta laughed while tapping Shinzou on the shoulder. “Yes, you already know about that. But other instincts too. The human mind was honed over millions of years, and thus collected a great deal of unnecessary baggage, primarily sex and aggression. By taking these out, we’ve been able to gift Sentients with a psychological foundation perfectly in tune with their needs.”
“Their needs?” Shinzou asked.
Sumeet looked slightly embarrassed. “Uhm, not that I am overly keen on this, but what exactly did you replace their sexual instincts with?”
Gupta grinned with furtive gratification. “It’s typical human nature to ask that question. Everyone does for some reason.”
All three laughed momentarily.
“To give you an honest answer,” Gupta continued, “it’s been replaced with a deep curiosity to learn.”
“Curiosity?” Sumeet said cocking his head.
“Yes, for all intensive purposes, Sentient Beings find the act of learning equivalent to having sex. That’s why they comprehend far more than any human ever will.”
Sumeet shook his head in disbelief. “Incredible!”
“We’re doomed!” Shinzou joked cynically.
Gupta looked around and then jabbed at the flexi wall. “Let’s get something to sit on, shall we?”
With a few key commands, warning beeps rang out as paisley foam chairs and a sofa soon emerged from hidden pockets under the floor. Sumeet stepped back and looked on with surprise. Since the large hall was otherwise empty, he speculated about what else could emerge at the touch of a button. The Institute was magical, like candyland for the technologically inclined.
As they took their seats, drink-flatheads entered the hall and began serving the trio. Gupta again happily took tea and biscuits. Clearly, he lived on a high-octane diet of sugar.
“If I must now explain at length,” he began, “allow me to use Freudian terminology and precepts. His ideas have long since been replaced by modern-day science, but are still quite useful. We for instance know exactly what every neuron in the mind does.
There are no big questions anymore, but one could say we quibble over details.”
“That wasn’t true twenty years ago,” Shinzou said, taking a warm mug of coffee from the crawler.
“Ancient history, Shinzou,” Gupta said, waving his hand dismissively. “But Freud, you see, based simply on empirical evidence of human behavior, invented wonderful concepts that explain the structure and functioning of the mind. He envisioned the existence of the unconscious, the home of repressed behavior. It’s one of Freud’s greatest ideas. Nowadays we understand the complex neurological process that creates the unconscious, but Freud’s premise was basically correct. And that is why we so carefully craft a Sentient Being’s instincts and upbringing to ensure a small yet healthy unconscious that precludes all the turmoil seen in the human species.”
Sumeet nodded. “This is quite fascinating, Dr. Gupta. My understanding of the unconscious is from a layman’s perspective. It seems a big factor affecting our behavior. But did I understand you correctly? You say they have no unconscious drives?”
“For the most part,” Gupta said, nibbling at a biscuit, “a human unconscious is primarily the result of our infancy, where the mind’s structure is fixed and laid down for subsequent development. Repression of our instincts create an unconscious mind that is later kept in check by logic and morality of the superego. But this is absolutely natural for humans, leading to a well-balanced psychological state.”
“Barring infants subject to trauma such as abuse and violence,” Shinzou said quietly from the side.
“That can never happen in Sentient society,” Gupta replied
Sumeet turned to stare outside, his eyes reflecting the glow of Sentient housings. “Seeing all this makes me think they live perfect lives.”
Gupta slapped his foam chair’s arm. “Yes! Since their primary instinct to learn is fully met at every stage of development, they know only contentment. A paper thin unconscious is created, one tightly controlled by rock solid logic engines of the ego and superego. They have as sound a mind as science can create. That’s why we have such strict regulations. It ensures a secular education completely void of libido and aggression, paramount to their development.”
“Interesting,” Shinzou said, looking at his cup as though it were part of the conversation. “This secular environment guarantees Sentients have no contact with troublesome topics like...religion?”
Gupta looked at Shinzou, then Sumeet. “Well yes. Religion is forbidden.”
Sumeet sat up a bit straighter. “Is that true? I talked with our SB assistant, Ivan, at Chindo Securities all the time about religion. He never objected.”
Gupta put his cup down and faced Sumeet. “No, you misunderstand. What I meant was that religion is forbidden as part of a Sentient’s early upbringing. Once they reach the equivalent of young adulthood, Sentients are free to study the topic as an intellectual pursuit, but there is no chance they will become religious.”
“No chance?” Shinzou said smiling.
Sumeet sat back again. “I always thought Sentients simply preferred secular life, but could become religious if they desired.”
Gupta huffed, moving back to allow the crawler access to his spent dishes. “Oh, it’s more than just a preference, young man, and it’s quite complex to explain here in detail. But suffice to say without strong sexual instincts, it’s quite impossible for them. Faith-based religions are an emergent behavior created over the eons by men who, if you believe Freud, mentally projected their fathers as the face of God. Mere speculation over one-and-a-half centuries ago. But we have sufficient evidence and foundations in neurophysiology to prove it more or less correct.”
“Hmmm, you proved God doesn’t exist?” Shinzou gibed.
“Be careful with that,” Gupta lovingly admonished. “We are talking about the thinking process, not God. If someone has the intellectual background, I can prove down to the neuron how sentience comes about, and all its related behavior. All of that won’t disprove God’s existence.”
Sumeet could see that Gupta was quite agitated by the remark. Even though it was obvious he and Shinzou were good friends, the two argued like family members, holding back nothing but always forgiving in the end. Still, Sumeet wasn’t yet part of this family, and wondered if he could divert the conversation away from turbulent waters.
“Excuse me, Dr. Gupta,” he said politely. “May I ask you about their history?”
Turning his head away slowly from Shinzou with an accusing eye, Dr. Gupta looked at Sumeet. “Yes of course.”
“You mentioned how carefully you control SB education and upbringing. But was that always true? There must have been a time before Sentient technology was fully understood.�
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Gupta frowned. “Well, yes, that was a long time ago. Early experimentation did lead to some horrific results. One must pay great respect to those early researchers who created the first artificial minds. However, understand that much early work was done on a smaller scale, like the size of a mouse. Not much harm was done. The scientific community was well prepared when the very first Sentient Beings were created.”
“I see,” Sumeet nodded.
Gupta finished off the last of the biscuits, shaking his hands free of crumbs. “From early experiments, we came to understand what happens when poor education and catastrophic repression is used to inhibit unwanted instincts, the type of unconscious minds that are formed. That’s why it is unthinkable to do that to a modern-day Sentient. Its illegality pales before the moral implications.”
“It would be a monster, I suppose,” Shinzou said.
Gupta’s face became dark and foreboding. “Should a creature of that kind be brought into this world, there is no telling what it might do.”
Before Gupta could say more, a small chime went off. Using open air commands, Gupta entered virtual space as Sumeet and Shinzou looked around patiently.
“The archived files have been restored,” Gupta said out loud, swiping wildly in the air. Then he became still and looked at Shinzou unhappily. “Sorry, Shinzou, the files are locked.”
“But you’re the director, Babu.”
“Yes but I wasn’t the director at that time. And these files are locked to the fellows who worked on that project. Maybe someone in the government has clearance, but you might try that man...eh, what was his name?”
“Kamiyoshi,” Shinzou replied.
“Yes, him. Sorry, I can’t give you these files. And even if he agreed to open them, he would need to come here physically before we allowed access.”
“I understand, Babu.”
Gupta stood up and extended his hands in warm thanks. “We can talk more at a later time about this. In the meantime, I must excuse myself and attend some other meetings. You are welcome to stay here if you like. The security system will escort you out when you decide to leave.”
After the final handshakes, Shinzou and Sumeet watched Dr. Gupta walk out the bulky sliding doors. They then turned their attention to the Sentient nursery, glowing as it did before with the light of countless chambers. Gazing down, the two looked on with unending fascination. Sumeet especially appreciated the moment, knowing full well it might be the last time in his life he would get the chance.
“You know,” Shinzou said, taking in the sight, “this new information is quite important. I hate to ask, but would you mind if we continue on the maglev? If Kamiyoshi is in Japan, maybe we’ll end our Bisbee tour tonight and head for Tokyo this evening. We’ll arrive by morning if we catch the red eye.”
“Uhm... yes, that’s fine. Anyhow, I need to be in Japan to catch my flight back home,” Sumeet agreed without much thought.
“We still will have plenty of time to discuss things on the way. But don’t you think it’s strange?” Shinzou said.
“What?”
“A theological teacher supporting a classified Sentient research project?”
Sumeet considered momentarily. “Based on what Dr. Gupta just explained, it does seem odd. What do you think it means?”
“I’m not sure,” Shinzou said to the ether before him. “I’m just not sure.”
Both stood silently before the massive kilometer-long observation window. The orange incandescent glow of Sentients filled the air in every direction, and one could only imagine the free-flowing thoughts of the new race that percolated on the floor below. Logical discourse, deep concentration encapsulating every corner of sentient knowledge, and even the imaginations of godlike genius.
But for all the Sentient Beings before them, not one would attempt a simple leap of faith. Not now, not ever. For it was beyond the well-regulated rules of man and Sentient alike.
It was, simply, unthinkable.
September 21, 1939
Maresfield Gardens – England
Three centigrams of morphine, enough to bring about coma and eventual death. Any less would not do, thought Max Schur as he looked on with dark hollowed eyes. Laying bedridden before him was his friend and patient, Dr. Sigmund Freud. After several weeks of contemplation and soul searching, there was no point waiting. Freud’s cancer was winning. And death, though not an optimal state of being, was preferable to the suffering caused by his cancer’s festering wound.
“Thank you, my friend,” Sigmund wheezed over and over.
Max didn’t reply. He couldn’t accept thanks for administering a lethal dose. That wasn’t a medical doctor’s duty, at least in the traditional sense. Still, morality was no longer at issue. The words “thou shalt not kill” were not appropriate. As with so many truisms, new circumstances arose, ones never conceived in the simple minds of ancients. Those who crafted words with love and wisdom, but ignored any possible terminus. A place where words, like men, must come to their end.
Max sighed, and carefully squeezed out excess air from the needle before placing it on Sigmund’s outstretched arm. After all the arguments, it all came down to this. A hypodermic needle, inserted carefully into the vein. And with just one simple push, it was done.
“Thank you, my friend,” Freud whispered one last time.
The effect took only moments. Closing his eyes slowly, Freud went into a deep sleep. The final resting place of dreams, and illusion.
And with a snap, Freud’s eyes opened once again. To his astonishment, he sat reclining in an easy chair placed before a lush garden. His favorite place in their temporary British home. A place for contemplation and rest, that is, before the cancer had festered beyond tolerance.
His eyes darted about, and he frowned with consternation. Why was he still alive? And what had transpired after the injection? It had all been agreed to over the past few days. With all the trouble and fuss, it was unexpected and unwelcome.
Huffing loudly, Freud threw off a small wool blanket that covered his lap and stood up, ready to find answers. But what about his attire? He looked down and inspected himself. Suit and tie were immaculate, and his black leather shoes were polished to a high glossy shine. All was in order. Good! Now where the hell was everyone?
“Max? Anna?” he called out.
There was no reply. But his own voice surprised him. It was strong, not feeble and tired like the sputtering of an old dying man. Raising his hand carefully, he felt around his neck and cheek. There was no pain. Could some magical cure have been invented in the last moments of his life? Impossible, but it would have to remain another mystery for the time being. That is, if he could find anyone to converse with.
Finally, a voice emanated from behind some bushes. “Hello, Sigmund. It is good to see you up and around.”
“Who’s there!” Freud demanded.
From behind a large patch of rose bushes walked a man. Quite tall and dressed in parishioners clothing, he smiled through a large, busy mustache.
“Oskar? Oskar Pfister? Is that you?” Freud asked, quite unsure what to make of things. “What are you doing here, old friend? When did you arrive in England?”
Oskar took Freud’s hand and shook passionately before they embraced warmly. Then Oskar took a few steps back and displayed himself to Freud with arms wide open.
“Well, here I am, in this beautiful garden of yours. There is nothing more to say, other than that your wish has brought me here.”
Freud remained confused. “But the war, how did you secure your travel documents?”
Oskar waved his hand unassumingly. He then walked over to a blooming rose bush and drew in its scent deeply. Smiling, he looked up with unbridled satisfaction.
Oskar said, “We don’t have much time, but this garden offers a chance to have one final discussion about man and his illusions.”
“I don’t understand,” Freud said, taking a step forward. Then he stopped, and slowly put his hand again upon his
cheek. Realizing that the pain of his cancer had disappeared, he gazed at Oskar with one eyebrow raised. “This is my imagination, isn’t it? It’s not real.”
“What is real, eh?” Oskar said, while pacing around the rose bush. “Many believe reality is like a rose. Is it the rose itself or the mere thought of a rose that counts? But for now, we need not concern ourselves with that. Let’s discuss something far more interesting.”
“Like what?”
“The future of civilization. That would seem appropriate given...your situation.”
“What situation? That in reality I’m miserable, old, and dying?”
“Yes!”
Freud harrumphed again and approached the bush. Oskar examined its flowers, and then gazed at other plants that began to take his fancy. What was he up to? Did it matter? Freud watched Oskar intently, and thought about where the whole conversation was going as the aroma of fresh flowers filled the air.
“You see, my old friend,” Oskar began. “I am not quite sure if you got everything right.”
Freud laughed. “People of faith have often reminded me of that! In no uncertain terms.”
“Oh, don’t misunderstand,” Oskar said, gesturing to some chairs that now appeared amongst a group of lilacs in full bloom. “I am happier to argue with one unbeliever like yourself, rather than agree with a thousand worthless believers. But it’s not argument I seek, rather, a clarification.”
Freud sat down in the wicker chair and began to rock back and forth. “Clarification. About what?”
“Your interpretation of civilization,” Oskar said, sitting down in the other chair nearby. “As I recall you said it was defined as, firstly, man’s accumulated knowledge, followed by man’s rules. The one’s we use to deal with each other, or something like that.”
Freud thought over the statement and furrowed his brows contemplatively. “Yes, well, I think I worded it a bit differently, but that captures the basic thought.”
“Why exactly do you separate these two? Knowledge used to conquer nature and behavior toward each other. Why not categorize behavior as a form of knowledge in itself?”
