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The four men came to a small door with a picture of three dots aligned in a triangle. At Science, the men were greeted by The Scientist and The Behemoth who both had impatience twitching at their fingers and disappointment glaring from their eyes. Their voices weren’t loud, but Marcos could see that their whisper carried with it a great weight; enough to have the four men trembling at their knees and holding their hands pleadingly in front of their faces.
The Scientist and The Behemoth then left the men in white coats, walking back along the corridor out into the courtyard and towards At War where they both moved in separate directions; The Behemoth into a sparring room where a group of Sons were honing their defences and The Scientist, up the stairs to the top of the War complex to where the laboratories of mathematics stayed.
The four men in white coats entered briskly the room with the three dots aligned at a triangle and Marcos followed in tow, introducing his presence with a cough.
The four men turned and saluted him with a long drawn stare, their brows lifted, surprise the theme of their perception.
One man asked to be excused and made his way through a gated door while the other men arranged themselves in front of a covered glass window, blocking whatever had been in view behind. Marcos tilted his head to sneak his sight past their frames, but the men swivelled to the right and left, only making the want of his know, needier.
“Who is in charge here? What is this room? Who sanctioned this space?” asked Marcos.
He had not designated any space that was unknown to him and any unsanctioned action that could contravene his ideology would certainly come into question. And for the first time in a great time, he was finding himself questionng the concepf one - and everything.
“What are you doing here? This is not your lab. This is not an anything. What is this place?” he said in a demanding and urgent tone.
The men looked at one another, shook their shoulders and then back at Marcos.
“Please do not find us rude but you have to understand we have no idea who you are. We have been instructed to converse with no man, woman or child. You will forgive us then if we ask you to leave so we can go about our work” said The Elderly Scientist.
“Do you know who I am? Open that window; now. I want to see what is going on here” he yelled.
The men once again turned to one another somewhat confused and then back at Marcos who by now was ready to strike.
“Sir, please,” The Elderly Scientist said holding his hands in front of his chest.
“Do you know who I am? Open those curtains now” Marcos yelled; rage washing over his rationale.
The Elderly Scientist went to the window and pulled on a black cord that hung by its side. The cloth covering the window dropped and exposed a room with two crying infants in a cot and a Mother, sitting on a white rocking chair.
Marcos looked on as The Elderly Scientist instructed the Mother to commence. She took one of The Infants, the quieter one and sat back in her rocking chair, lifting it to her breast to feed.
The Infant massaged at her breast and fell into an awkward slumber, closing its eyes then awakening to screaming and a desire for food knowing the breasts it suckled were dry and worn.
The Elderly Scientist tapped on the glass and nodded his head. Another man in white took a syringe from the table and stepped behind The Mother rocking The Infant and inserted the syringe into her vein, pushing a clear liquid into her arm then he did the same to the crying Infant; pushing the needle into a vein in its neck.
“What is that? What did he just give them?” asked Marcos.
“Oxytocin. Well, a synthetic version. We’re trying to kick start her love for this infant. We provide the external elements; the crying baby, i.e. the gears for her to drive her vehicle. This here, this shot is a jolt of electricity to jump start her engines. The brain produces it naturally but without the empathy gene it doesn’t call it into action. Right now she is receiving an overdose” said The Elderly Scientist.
The man in white injected more fluid into The Mother’s and The Infant’s veins and timed as the fluid made its way to their brains. He watched for shifts in their pupil dilation, any sweating, any tremours and more notably, he stood on one knee watching The Mother’s left breast intently as The Infant suckled waiting to see any milky discharge. The Mother hummed peacefully swaying back and forth on the old rocking chair, the creaking of the treated wood helping the infant to fall into ease, comfort and sleep.
“She’s feeding The Infant?” asked Marcos shocked.
“Shhhh” replied The Elderly Scientist, “just watch,” he said.
A different man in white then entered and took the other Infant which by now was screaming desperately for food and a Mother’s love. He took The Infant into a division within the room where behind Perspex; The Infant sat unnaturally upright, watching its sibling being nursed in apparent tranquillity.
Its despondence grew unruly, its face burning red, its voice crackling under the extent of its screams. The Man in White turned to The Infant and pulled a white cloth over his face screaming abhorrence into his ears.
“I hate you, you´re ugly, no one ever wanted you, you ruined your mother’s body, I wish you had miscarried, you are not my son, you are not my son, you are no one’s son” The Man in White yelled disgustingly at the crying Infant as it looked on at The Mother, far from reach and bawling hysterically.
“What are you doing here? This is fucking sick? What is the point of this? None of this was sanctioned from my philosophy. Who sanctioned this?” Marcos asked.
The Elderly Scientist closed the curtains and nodded to the other two men to leave the room and go about other business. The two men skipped away and The Elderly Scientist offered Marcos a seat.
“Please sit,” he said. “Can I offer you some tea? We have a synthetic version here. It really is quite delicious.”
“I don’t want tea. I want to know the meaning of this; of that” Marcos said pointing to the window.
“Sir, we are men of science here. What you saw was merely the acting out of an equation. It was the cause to an effect. It would serve neither of us for myself to explain the elements in this part of the equation. I think it would be more fitting and far more comprehensible, to show you the effect. Forgive my manners, my name is Arthur” he said extending his hand.
Marcos leaned forward and shook the man’s hand, a state of caution becoming him. Arthur stood up from behind the desk and invited Marcos to follow him through the locked door, turning to one of his colleagues and nodding.
“Are you sure I can’t interest you in a cup of tea? It really is a shame for a pot to run cold” he said gesturing to the beakers and containers on the table.
“No, thank you,” Marcos said, completely forgetting The Elderly Scientist’s name.
“Yes” replied The Elderly Scientist smiling.
“Who are you responsible to?” Marcos asked.
“We concern ourselves not in who binds our feet for as long as they liberate our minds" responded The Elderly Scientist.
“How long have you operated down here?”
“You never told me your name. You asked if I knew of you, as of apparent that I should. But you never told who you are. I imagine of great importance, yes? Important men usually ask questions that need no answer” The Elderly Scientist said with not a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
“My name is Marcos. And yes, I am of importance. I built this Nest” he said.
“Then it is you, Marcos of Importance, who sanctioned this area” The Elderly Scientist responded.
The two continued walking down a claustrophobic corridor which seemed to compress on all sides the further they ventured. There were small openings in the wall along the way and they were numbered in zeros and ones.
“What do these numbers mean?” Marcos asked.
“Why, they are binary of course” The Elderly Scientist responded.
“Binary, what is that?”
“It is a language, a beautiful language; all that’s really left of the information age. Zeros and ones are everything. In fact, if you are who you say you are, then this philosophy of yours, it is a binary philosophy; At Focus, At Distraction; At Being, At Not; zero, one; fear, love; death, infinity; black, white. You, Marcos of Importance, you speak in binary” he said.
“What was the point of that back there? An equation for what? This is not part of my learning. This is not the Collective philosophy” exclaimed Marcos with a heavy hand of uncertainty ushering along every word to its place.
“You said something interesting before. You said it was; pardon my cultural snobbery I find these words grotesque, fucking sick, yes? I wonder if you find the act being inflicted upon the infant as disturbing as in the interest of an affected human or whether more logically you find the abandon of your philosophical rule disturbing; either way, a very strange thing to say. You know I never bought that adage that man could be altruistic. It’s just simply infeasible. Given that is, that every action, be it physical or metaphysical has some cerebral reward. It’s safe to say that every human lives and dies alone and, therefore, every human experiences alone. Two humans experiencing the pleasure of sex are each experiencing an internal comprehension of an individualistic act, regardless of the conscious interpretation. The act of sex with another woman is in fact masturbation. A hand, a vagina, a tree trunk; the act is experienced internally and, therefore, the external factor only relates to the application of internal desire” said The Elderly Scientist.
“What does that have to do with anything?” said Marcos bewildered.
“Sorry. Layman. OK, to put it another way, if I were to help an old lady cross a street my brain would provide me with serotonin for the act, I feel good for helping, I set a goal, I achieve said goal and I am rewarded for the effort. Now, if by helping another human my brain was to provide me with electric shocks that ran through my body then most certainly I would not engage in these altruistic acts. Logic really. In this instance, we can see that the doing of good deeds for altruism is merely the doing for the receiving of cerebral narcotics. A+b=c. Now should I decide that the pain is worth the ideology, to sacrifice and martyr myself for an ideal, then yes I would endure vile torture while helping the old lady cross the street, but also what guides me through is the metaphysical reward of knowing I’m suffering for a greater good; therein I receive once again a cerebral reward, for the brain doesn’t conserve pain, in fact, in large amounts it provides strong doses of endorphin, natures heroin fulfilling two rewards, physical and metaphysical; thereby contravening the rules of altruism. So what does this mean? Humans are not altruistic, we are individual self-serving universes, we can interact with other universes, we can even collide, but we can never be another universe, we can never think like another universe or feel like another universe. Where man is now, without empathy, is where man belongs; a universe getting farther from itself. Altruism cannot exist and empathy was just an error in our code. What does that mean? Without empathy, we cannot lie to one another. We have no desire to lie to one another. There is nothing physically or metaphysically for us to gain. We are better people for it. We are more humane than what you will us to return to. I subscribe to a certain Socratic logic and honesty. I don’t love you; I love myself when I am with you. That kind of honesty isn’t packaged in your empathy, my friend. That’s why you have to understand how reserved I feel about giving the scissors back to the infant knowing to well it’s just going to take off at high spirit and fall again, cutting itself and having to be emotionally bandaged. But I’m just the scientist. Which brings me back to what you said before, what was it? ‘This is fucking sick’, that’s right. Well, Marcos of importance, you haven’t seen anything yet” he said with a sly cynical wink.
“Now you asked why. Why, why, why? Always the reserve of layman. Demand a progressive response to a one syllable request. OK, let me put some reason in your mind, we tried many times, to focus on one. That being, that Infant you just saw At Mother, being loved and fed so to speak. Well, she doesn’t really feed mind you; how absurd an idea. I don’t need to tell you how long it’s been since a woman has actually lactated. She does stimulate The Infant, though, to the suckling action to try and engage some bond with The Infant and nurse it into sleep. The injections we give her every forty five minutes are designed to jump start her brain, to start the process for it so all it needs to do is remember, feel and repeat. We have to give greater amounts each time. The brain just doesn’t respond” he said.
“You see; now did you have a car, before the blackout? Well, I did. I had horrible a commute made no easier mind you by those metallic coffins. Actually a colleague of mine, my meta-friend, he has this whole philosophy about how cars were the extension of a woman’s womb, that a vehicle; aside from a bath tub, were the closest to safe most humans felt in the old city. They could lock their doors and keep intruders out. They could turn up the sound and make themselves warm, just like those nine glorious months in the womb. Of course, this theory didn’t take into account seventy thirty peak traffic on Nove de Julho watching the windows of the car in front of you being smashed in and waiting, like grazing cattle, for gun wielding junkies to slowly cross the plain and milk you dry. In theory, it’s a sound philosophy. He has one for water and drowning as well which I find just dandy” said The Elderly Scientist.
Marcos continued looking on confused, trying to follow the scientist’s teaching but finding himself completely lost.
“What was I saying?” asked The Elderly Scientist.
“You asked me if I drove a car and before that you were talking about, well, oh the drug and…” said Marcos being cut off.
“The drug yes, oh the car, yes now I remember. Well, countless times I found myself in the position where my engine just wouldn’t start, especially on cold mornings. Now I would tie up some cables from the battery in my car to another and use the other vehicle to charge mine and jump start it. What we’re doing with the Oxytocin is no different. The problem here is that the car we’re jump starting doesn’t have a battery. Without the empathy gene, there is nothing to charge. Think of it like having no fuel tank and to get your car going your just pouring ethanol all over the engine. We’re just washing her brain with Oxytocin. We started mixing with oestrogen as well and some other compounds like mdma and amphetamine. We inject The Mother and The Infant and try to recreate a birth moment. I read in a journal once, the mystic Parteiras, they called it the moment of love; when The Mother and Infant overdose on Oxytocin after birth, creating the self-preserving bond and more importantly, starting the lactating process. Obviously empathy was the key factor but so far we haven’t been able to recreate this moment. Instead, The Infants and Mothers just seize, convulse and stop breathing. Very disappointing” he said.
“Anyway, trial and error brought us no closer to understanding our error. You see, a century of behavioural disassociation separated humans from the empathy gene; a century of repetitive thought and action; digital technologies, sciences, games, stimuli, music, fashion, you name it. Eventually, the human was conditioned to not need this gene and as such, nature has always had its ways of adapting, so to speak. Take language, for example, another organic feature of nature and like empathy, one learned through repetition of emotional cycles; one that; If you don’t practice it, eventually you sweat it out. Like language, one can absorb and learn empathy by being surrounded by empathy, in that one can assimilate a language by being immersed in it and eventually their subconscious will acquire some emotional context. Like standing in the rain, eventually you will get wet. Now if that is your outcome then congratulations but if the heavens dry and you’re not in the company of water any more then you will dry. That can be said for the occurrence or rather lack of, empathy” he said.
“We evolved, as you know and nature spliced this empathy gene from the reel. Undoing this natural evolution is proving more arduous than we first thought. We believed that the gene remained, but was
hidden and that all we would need to do would be to try to make instinctual its necessity; for example, leaving a screaming crying baby; so hungry it will die if it doesn’t have a drop of milk, in the lap of say a young woman in what would be a prime breeding age; firm supple breasts, emotionally responsive. The idea initially would be that nature would call the gene into function, the woman would start to lactate and she would nurse The Infant. We have seen it in cats and dogs, but humans just don’t learn. So many times we had to watch the infant die. It was upsetting you must understand, watching that Infant close its eyes and edging further from the solution you know is just beyond your reach. We never like to lose an infant, we simply don’t have the resources currently to lose samples willy nilly. Nature really made humans incapable of survival. I mean you compare to any other animal. Now dogs, that’s a superior species. Humans, they just lie there, crying, whereas the dog is born crawling to its mother’s breast or failing that, to a crevice or rock face, out of reach of circling predators.
“You’re doing it again,” said Marcos frustratingly; cutting him off before he went on another universal plain.
“Sorry, I do get excited some times. Anyway from our initial research, we found that re-learning the gene would take as much time as it took to unlearn it. This is why we have other departments now working at a more quantum level to find a solution. What we did realise though from our early tests was the influence on the other half of the equation; zero, one; love, fear; good, evil; up, down; etc, etc. We thought; what if we amplified the gap in the genes? How could we use this to an advantage? And so, our experiments have led us now where we focus on zero as opposed to one. When life hands you lemons, make a caipirinha. What if we could fill the genetic gap with something else? Empathy has the potential to influence so much subconscious interplay with ability and natural connection. The gene alone, or at least that space in genetics which is now void, is a link between the sub and conscious states as well as the direct link with nature, universality; at least one of my colleagues is adamant on this, and more arguably, god. This void, this part of the human genome, this missing splice is the ethernet of the universe, the connector for the subconscious umbilical cord feeding directly to the cosmos and mankind. Imagine then, with that universal link, if in that gap we inserted, for example, the paternalism of a penguin, the awareness of a mountain goat, the decisiveness of a wild boar or the rationale of a cruel dictator; or a little bit of each” said The Elderly Scientist.
Marcos felt lost for word, trying to comprehend exactly what The Elderly Scientist had even told him and how and why it came to be. An emotion swept through his conscious state willing him to question everything he was seeing and leading him to question everything that he believed.
It felt wrong; this sensation and what he was seeing before his eyes; the antipode to his north, the centre of his philosophy; in his mind, the right he was doing to save mankind.
“There is no waste in science. The more we help one the more we help the other. In this case, by focusing on the zero Infant; heightening its fear and compounding its abandon, we in turn heighten the other Infant’s sense of need and belonging. Equality. We also, make better use of the once abandoned Infant or Child. We make them into something beneficial. We can’t make the Mother love, but if we make the other one frightened enough then maybe nature will kick start its self-preservation again. It would be a shame, like my tea, for the zero Infant to serve no greater purpose than being a parallax to its opposite, trying to awaken a genetic response to its human disconnection. You’ll see what I mean, through here” said The Elderly Scientist.
The two came to the end of the shrinking tunnel; the backs of their necks scraping against the cold concrete roof that was so low it almost kissed the earth.
They entered through a crevice in the wall which took them to an unexpectedly large opening. Marcos was taken aback, The Elderly Scientist swelled with pride.
“If you think this is impressive, you really should have tried the tea,” he said.
A Rising Fall Page 26
