by Saul Garnell
He thought about Ganesh’s advice. Back to normal. What was normal anyway? Life before the Freedom Club seemed normal, or at least within the bounds of mundane existence. But now? Now everything appeared different in some unexpected and surprising way. The world was bigger, chocked full of enigmatic dilemmas that threatened intrinsic human life. Which, as he would eventually discover, was on the verge of extinction. Or at least of severe population reduction. With mixed feelings Sumeet held on with only the lightest of grips, the tips of his fingers faintly brushing the past while asking the same question over and over. Was it worth holding on to?
“No, I can’t do that,” Sumeet said quietly. “Nothing is finalized. But even if it was, I’m not sure I want my old life back. I need to work out some issues, figure it all out again. If I can’t get married now? If I can’t buy the com-plex? Well, so be it!”
Ganesh gawked back, utterly confused. “Ullu ke pathe! I can’t believe what I’m hearing!”
Sumeet smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll send them a video message.”
“That won’t fix anything.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
Ganesh frowned. “There’s something wrong with you!”
“Honestly, I’m feeling good. For the first time,” Sumeet said, beaming broadly. Then, with a sudden burst of redirection, his arm swung widely to sublimate their conversation. “Anyway, how are you doing? Is the LS situation improving any?”
Ganesh shook his head, and reluctantly changed gears. “Uhm, well, yes. Funny you should bring that up. You remember that goobey from ASAPU? The one who called me up? A mama from the Southwest sector named Hugo?”
“Uhm, I don’t recall,” Sumeet said coyly.
“You’re not going to believe it, but he rings me up the other day and gives me an encoding sequence that temporarily inhibits my board degradation!” Ganesh snorted sardonically. “Can you believe it? I’m off the hook.”
Sumeet leaned back lazily in his web-chair. “That’s nice. So...you won’t be needing me anymore.”
“All the panicking has stopped. At least until we find a permanent cure. But yes, I don’t need your help right now.”
Sumeet smiled contently. “You’re welcome.”
Without warning, Sumeet perceived movement through a semi-transparent corner of his filter. Glancing sideways, Sumeet realized Shinzou was leering unhappily at him. Urgency was simultaneously conveyed by an abrupt text message that flashed within Sumeet’s visual field. It read:
WE HAVE A SERIOUS PROBLEM!
Sumeet slurred, “Ah...listen I have to go.”
“Okay, but what do I tell Hiral when she calls again?”
“Nothing. I’ll do the needful. Talk later!”
“That’s not...”
Cutting the call short, Sumeet ripped off his filter and stood up to hear more. But Shinzou said nothing, and quickly led them back toward the circular work room. They shuffled squeaky web-chairs in front of Henry, who waited impatiently on the broad flexi wall.
“Let’s get on with it, shall we?” he bellowed.
Startled, Sumeet took his seat while looking at the network activity that flashed by on open monitors. Semi-transparent warning texts scrolled over network addresses, and everything flickered in an array of neon colors, aesthetically pleasing but doing little to calm Henry’s disapproving look.
“What’s going on?” Sumeet asked.
“Shiro’s Quantum call arrived while you were online,” Shinzou said.
“Already?”
“What happened?” Henry demanded impatiently. “You know I can’t monitor those conversations.”
Shinzou gestured for calm. “I wanted you both to hear this at the same time.” He sighed unhappily. “Frankly, it didn’t go very well. I attempted to control things but in the end he got...angry.”
Sumeet cocked his head. “Angry? Sentients don’t get angry.”
“This one does,” Shinzou said disquietedly.
Henry thought deeply. “Interesting, but let’s consider his behavioral state later. Concentrate on what he actually said. We can’t record Quantum, so you need to recount precisely what happened?”
Shinzou huffed out loud and placed both hands to his temples. “Well, it started off pleasantly enough. But he wanted to know how we found out about him. I had little choice, so I told him about our meeting with Kamiyoshi and our offer to help.”
“And his suicide?” Henry asked.
“Just as we agreed. I put that off until he demanded evidence. Without any, he said he would contact Kamiyoshi himself.”
“And?” urged Henry. “Then what?”
Shinzou rubbed his forehead and shut his eyes. “Let’s see...I told him what happened, then he called me a liar and accused me of murdering his father.”
“What?” Sumeet erupted. “That’s not what happened!”
Shinzou smiled at Sumeet. “As I explained. But quite frankly, his reaction was bizarre. Infuriated, his avatar phased out of control, transforming from a casual businessman into some Asian-looking boy.” Shinzou glanced toward Henry and shook his head unbelievably. “Has anything like that ever happened before? I mean, to a Sentient?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Henry said, quite fascinated. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say his construct destabilized.”
Sumeet grimaced. “Do you think he’s...mentally ill? I mean, is that even possible for Sentients?”
“I don’t know,” Shinzou said. “But he was quite threatening. Claiming that I would suffer if I couldn’t provide him with some evidence of what happened.”
“Suffer?” Sumeet asked innocently? “What does that mean?”
Henry and Shinzou glanced at each other, then Sumeet. The connotation for Sentients was far reaching. What wrath was a Sentient capable of inflicting? It was a question thought to be incomprehensible.
Dismally, Shinzou looked down at the floor. “Remember our talk with Gupta? He warned us about the formation of a suppressed Sentient unconscious.”
Henry nodded. “Psychiatric disorders are common enough for humans, but for Sentients the field is utterly unheard of. Still, the human model is probably the closest approximation to our subject. Tell me, Shinzou, what else did he do? Anything that you can remember is vital.”
Shinzou snapped his fingers. “Now that you mention it, Henry, he said some strange things before storming out.”
“Yes?” Henry’s eyebrows rose with interest. “Something from poetry, I think. He mentioned the word Moloch.”
“Moloch?” Sumeet asked.
“Yes, I believe he mentioned Moloch’s incomprehensible prison. He’s quoting ‘Howl.’”
Henry referenced the passage on a nearby patch of flexi. “Here. This is what he is referring to.”
Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!
The bombastic words reached across space and time, trying once again to spark a cultural counter movement but failing. Sumeet looked on apathetically. Without knowledge of its historical context, the poem’s meaning was incomprehensible to him. Appearing weird and lifeless, the stanza looked like a snippet of ciphered text.
Henry mulled to himself briefly before nodding with scholarly care. “It’s from ‘Howl,’ Allen Ginsberg’s epic poem written back in the late nineteen fifties. An expression of America’s social dissatisfaction. Quite notorious in its day.”
“I never heard of it,” Sumeet admitted shyly.
“Really?” Henry said, mildly astonished. “It really was quite the rage. And harkens to any society where freedom is inhibited by an oppressive system. Ginsberg is highly regarded. We can certainly include him as a Freedom Club member.”
“Sorry, but this is all beyond me,” Sumeet miffed. “What’s the significance?”
Henry nodded. “Well, it’s not bedtime reading. But if he’s quoting from this, I can on
ly assume he blames society for his misfortune.”
Sumeet looked at Shinzou. “So...he’s angry about the way he was treated?”
“It’s worse than that,” Shinzou added. “His final words before he left were that his people, the holy Sentient race, were being victimized by man. He screamed at me about the need for religious freedom.”
“Religious freedom?” Sumeet asked. “For Sentients?”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Henry exclaimed.
Sumeet thought out loud. “But that isn’t true is it? Didn’t Gupta explain that Sentients are free to study religion? They just choose not to.”
“Yes, but that takes into account a proscribed secular education,” Shinzou replied. “In addition, there are no religious evangelists amongst the Sentient race.”
Henry said, “It would seem there’s one now.”
“That’s not funny,” Shinzou barked.
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
Sumeet looked back and forth between them. “So what if he wants religious freedom for Sentients? It may be strange, but is it really so bad? Even Sentients have a right to think what they want, as long as it doesn’t harm anyone.”
Henry nodded approvingly. “Excellent point! But before we go further, I suggest we go over all the facts. There’s something that still nags me about all this.”
“What’s that?” asked Shinzou.
Henry raised an eyebrow. “We started off investigating the destruction of the Martin Luther King Junior spaceplane. And our working theory is that Shiro’s illegal existence is now being covered up, by some unknown group.”
Sumeet and Shinzou looked at each other and nodded.
Henry asked, “Do we have any information that can help us narrow down who we are dealing with? I mean, Kim and Nagel worked for the Langton Center. Perhaps we should investigate it and look for evidence before continuing with Shiro.”
Shinzou scowled. “You’re right, Henry, but I would rather put that off. Prying into the Center is like shaking a bee’s nest. And keeping good relations with Gupta is a high priority for me.”
“Even if they’re guilty of murder?” Henry quipped.
Shinzou winced. “It’s a possibility, but for some reason I don’t think the Langton Center is driving this. They’re primarily scientists, and my gut feeling is to look elsewhere. That’s why I want you to speak with Shiro first, and see if we can get him on our side.”
“Our side?” Sumeet said a bit shaken.
Shinzou nodded. “Yes, I’d rather have Shiro work with us rather than act independently. He’s a risk on his own.”
“Can’t we just report him to the authorities?” Sumeet argued. “I mean, we know he’s inside Aleph-Beta.”
Shinzou shook his head disapprovingly. “Report a rogue Sentient? They’d think we’re crazy! Even if we had evidence, it would only draw attention to our activities. No, far better to befriend Shiro. Live up to the promise we made to Kamiyoshi before he died.”
“Indeed,” Henry added agreeably. “As a Sentient, he’s a kindred spirit in need of help. We should bring him into the group, or at least try.”
Shinzou slapped Sumeet on the shoulder and then nodded at Henry. “And that’s exactly what you’re going to do, Henry. Speak with him and bring him into the Freedom Club!”
“Me?” Henry said incredulously.
“He believes I murdered his father. So we need to change his mind, and he certainly won’t listen to a human. Put on your psychoanalysis hat, Henry, and convince him of our integrity. You’re our best hope.”
Henry harrumphed with disgust. “Maybe, but there are serious questions about a good approach. I really can’t...”
“You just said you wanted to help him,” Shinzou interrupted. “Well, here’s your chance. Sumeet here can help you prepare.”
“Me?” Sumeet said, wide eyed. “What can I do?”
“You can help send off another message to Shiro, and look over some of Henry’s propensity models.” Shinzou tapped Sumeet a few times on the shoulder. “Consider this basic training. Now I’m going to make another call to Dr. Gupta. Maybe Henry’s right. I’ll try to dig up something of interest. In the meantime, you two get ready to make another call.”
Henry nodded toward Sumeet. “I suppose we can finish in the next hour or so.”
Sensing greater expectations, Sumeet wondered if his importance was exaggerated. Or maybe they just wanted him to feel like he was part of the team. Still, it was hard to fight it. More and more, the Freedom Club was looking like his new career path. And in that respect, one thing riled him up more than anything else.
He was beginning to like it.
Dr. Gupta was sparring intensively with his fitness crawler when Shinzou’s Quantum call arrived. He snorted contemptuously, and sat down to secure his filter mask in place. A Quantum call at this late hour? He took a deep breath and tried to relax. Complaining was pointless. Quantum had become a way of life, and there was no sense appearing upset. But his mood soon shifted. Peering at the incoming tags, he recognized Shinzou’s name and happily picked up.
“My boy, how are you?”
“Fine, Babu,” Shinzou said. “I can’t thank you enough for our visit the other day.”
Gupta waved his hand modestly. “Think nothing of it. You’re always welcome. But tell me, why have you called by Quantum? We have no secrets.”
Shinzou’s smile faded. “Well, you might not agree after we talk.”
“Come now!”
There was brief silence as Shinzou considered what to say. Gupta sensed something was wrong but waited patiently.
“Babu, I want to show you some brain scans,” Shinzou began. “I hope you won’t be upset after you look at them.”
“Images?”
“Yes, I am sending them now. I’d like you to read them and give me your opinion?”
Gupta sat back and watched several hundred three-dimensional scans arrive. Reflexively, he placed them on his virtual examination wall. They surrounded him in every direction like the inside of a planetarium. Nothing unusual at first. To his trained eye, they represented a complete set of diagnostic scans, quite typical in his line of work.
“You want me to read these?”
“If you don’t mind?” Shinzou answered politely.
“There is no name or registration number. Who is this?”
“I’d...I’d rather not say.”
“I see,” Gupta remarked dubiously.
Using diagnostic controls, Gupta extruded the first slide and raised his nose as he began his examination. He began with the cerebral cortex and worked his way down through all major organs of the brain.
Immodestly nodding, he said, “I’m not impressed!”
Shinzou smiled. That remark simply meant there was nothing to comment upon. This continued for some time. Parietal lobe, occipital lobe, temporal lobe, and so forth. His analysis went on in an uninteresting and pedantic manner until he came across the subcortical limbic system. Stopping abruptly, he scanned between images of the amygdala and basal ganglia. His eyes darted around in a flurry of disturbing activity. Finally, he looked at Shinzou quite stunned.
“I’m impressed!” he gasped. “You’ve been keeping secrets!”
“What have you found?”
“This is a Sentient?”
“You already know that.”
“A live Sentient Being? No hoax?”
“Yes.”
“My God, if that’s the case you must see me right away!”
“Why, Babu,” Shinzou said cautiously.
“Because your Sentient here has a number of neural anomalies which should not exist!” Gupta thrust an index at a small but detailed squiggle of neurons and related glial cells. “Do you see this? When I look here in the basal ganglia, I see particular nerve bundles that never exist in Sentient Beings.”
“Okay.”
“No! Not okay, Shinzou!”
“Why? What is it?”
Zooming into a microscan of neurons for Shinzou to see, Gupta feverishly jabbed his finger. “There are a number of bundles here that control emotions. Human emotions! And this. Do you know what THIS is?”
Gupta thrust his shaky finger several times at a grayish white mass. It had to be some kind of hoax, Gupta thought. Managing to restrain himself, he glared silently at Shinzou and waited for an answer.
“Just tell me,” Shinzou said, shrugging like a schoolboy. “Compared with you, my knowledge of brain physiology is quite weak.”
“You really don’t know what this is?” Gupta said, trembling. “This image shows evidence of a...”
“Of a what, Babu?”
“Of a sex drive! I don’t believe it! It’s a Sentient sex drive!”
Standing before his Quantum room foyer, Shiro gazed upon a luscious boreal forest located somewhere in the coniferous woodlands of the northeast sector. Nothing could have differed more from the previous drab four-walled Quantum venue. Thick with jack pine, red spruce, and paper birch, the sun beamed through hazy patches of thick foliage as light shimmered off a small pond nearby. The air was fresh, filled with ambient smells, and autumn leaves fluoresced in incandescent shades of emerald and crimson red.
Using the external monitor, he zoomed in and spied upon its sole occupant. Shiro looked on with fascination at what seemed to be a middle aged man. Unassuming, the stranger appeared interested in a small turtle crawling in the shrubs. How strange, he thought. Was this truly a Sentient? Why would he care about a turtle? He watched carefully for some time.
The man’s appearance was equally unusual. A bristling neck-beard collared a rough button-downed shirt, while suspendered black trousers draped over worn leather shoes. It almost looked humorous. But Shiro cautioned himself. Best not to lower one’s guard, he reminded himself. Not this time.
Shiro then considered his own appearance. Looking down, he dolefully examined his white kimono and bare feet. Quite inappropriate given the natural setting. But it felt right to wear something that reflected his personality.
Deciding that enough time had been sacrificed on self-contemplation, Shiro sighed disconcertedly as he opened the door and stepped onto soft leafy earth. He kept his arms crossed and took slow measured steps toward the pond’s edge. Pushing branches out of the way, he waited patiently for his adversary to make the first move.
