by Terry Persun
“I need that balancer,” he said.
Neil just stared at him. “You know I can’t let you have it. When we find it, we have to turn it in.”
“Of all people, you must know how important a discovery like this is.”
“I was hired…”
“Hired by me!” He threw his hands into the air and turned on Neil like a mad dog. “I called you in. You’ll do as I say.”
“Harkins, the government, pays me,” Neil said.
Steffenbraun put a hand to his chin. “I’ll tell you what, Harkins won’t like it, but I’ll hire you directly. They’re probably not going to let you be a part of this as long as your wife is with those people from the future. I can hire you.”
Neil was surprised that Steffenbraun actually believed he was in charge and could go against Harkins. Smythe had done his job well, keeping the mad scientist from ever being exposed to reality. As much as Neil would be glad to bring reality into the picture, and tell the man that he wasn’t in charge and could not order Neil around, he considered the deal. He waited long enough for the finger Steffenbraun was pointing at him to begin to shake. Then he waited another thirty seconds. “I’ll do what I was hired to do. I’ll find your equipment. And I’ll find Mavra.” He hesitated long enough to get Steffenbraun’s full attention. “If the device is lost in the shuffle, it won’t be my fault.” Neil let Steffenbraun stare at him. “I think you understand me,” he said.
“I fully understand,” Steffenbraun said.
Neil left the office. Out the corner of his eye he watched Steffenbraun collapse into the chair behind the desk. He put on a good show.
CHAPTER 14
FENNY WAITED UNTIL Dr. Klein fell asleep before he went off on various tangents in his reading. Sometimes at night he browsed artists’ sites and stared at paintings, trying to create a confused state that he would then label. Abstract art caused the most puzzling arrangements of information inside his neurogrid. After taking in the piece, he read through critical reviews to see what others said about it, searching for emotional words. Connecting his reactions with the critic’s, he’d assess his internal conflicts about the painting and tag the state with an emotional label or two that he could pull up later. Whether emotionally disturbing or angry or light-hearted, Fenny noticed nuances caused by the juxtaposition of information entering his circuits about a piece and learned to approximate an emotional response.
Philosophically, he did have a mind, making “I think, therefore I am” a known fact, which delighted him.
After testing his understanding using artwork, he repeated the exploration through the act of reading. The classics portrayed particular emotions clearly, but also showed how unrelated ones could maintain the same space. Then he read everything from Hemingway and Fitzgerald to Warren. Without fully understanding why, some of the books became his favorites. Study, was how he thought about what he did, but it wasn’t study as Dr. Klein had hoped for him, and he knew it. He wasn’t so interested in electromechanical technologies as much as he was in abstract thought. That was what made the difference between man and machine, so to speak. He wanted to master interpretation, emotion, and individual thought. That would bring him closer to the human experience as he understood it.
And that’s what led him to contacting one of the professors at Purdue University’s biotech laboratories about the school’s research. Through a few well-placed and professional emails using Dr. Klein’s account, Fenny was able to ascertain what companies were manufacturing the most advanced body parts. If he was going to think like a human, he could at least look like one too. Once the doctor had started the process, Fenny decided to continue. He was careful to order only a few items at a time, legs at first. Using Dr. Klein’s account information from his government grants, Fenny assumed that if a company official saw the order, the person would assume the part was for research. Chances were, direct orders were put through a processing system where no one ever looked at them anyway. Parts were merely packaged and shipped. The doctor had never been questioned about ordering anything he wanted in the past.
After ordering his legs, Fenny went to the Digi-Key site to order other components he might need if anything broke down. Back-up electronics parts. He so disliked it when Dr. Klein shut down his neurogrid circuitry that he wanted to have spare parts if it should fail on its own. You couldn’t get neurogrids like the one Dr. Klein had fabricated for Fenny, but with the proper components, he could recreate it. He knew how to assemble himself, and ordering microcontrollers and discrete components was a simple matter. His goal was to have a complete set of replacement parts.
Fenny had all night to work, and eventually browsed the internet for typing lessons. Although he could input the data into his digital files and call up a repeated action, he decided to exercise his neurogrid by using it exclusively. He scooted the keyboard close to the edge of the workbench and rose up as high as possible on his legs. His left hand could barely reach the keyboard, while his right hand easily swung down from the top of his torso. He let his fingers touch, one hand to the other, then separated them and wiggled them independently. He laid his hands on the keyboard and began his first lesson: a-s-d-f-j-k-l-;.
He worked throughout the night. As dawn was about to appear, he shut everything down, erased his steps on the computer, and walked into the corner and settled on his legs.
Dr. Klein liked his mornings to be quiet. Before the doctor took a shower, Fenny watched him wander into the kitchen, passing by the living room where Fenny sat. He rummaged through the cupboard for a coffee cup. Fenny heard the silverware drawer open, the tinkle of spoons, then the clank of the spoon being placed into the cup and the drawer being pushed back. The automatic coffee maker would be ready for Dr. Klein’s first cup of coffee. When he appeared in the doorway, he held the steaming cup in one hand, the other hand placed around the cup as though keeping warm. Dr. Klein walked over to an easy chair and plopped, spilling none of the coffee. “I love the smell of coffee in the morning,” he said.
“I cannot smell,” Fenny said.
Dr. Klein nodded his head. “That, my son, is a more difficult problem to fix. Hands and feet,” he waved his hand, “nothing to it.” He nursed his coffee as though wanting it to last longer than it would. “So, what were you up to all night?”
“Study,” Fenny said, knowing that the shortest answer would most likely be the least likely to get a follow-up question.
“I have to say, son, that I’m very happy and proud that you stayed in last night.”
Fenny took in Dr. Klein’s words. When he was called son it made him feel joyful. Happy and proud had similar, but slightly different, confused states in his neurogrid. All of the states were what Fenny considered good, though, so he basked in the praise. “I didn’t know that what I did was wrong,” he said.
Dr. Klein cocked his head. “You don’t have to justify what you did. We cleared that up yesterday.”
“Understood,” Fenny said.
Dr. Klein stared at nothing in particular for a while, and even closed his eyes as though he was thinking deeply about something. After taking a deep breath he downed the last of his coffee and, as was his routine, got up for a second cup. “Be right back.”
Fenny waited patiently. While doing so, he practiced his emotions. That’s what he called it when he revisited particular situations or activities and recreated the confused state that originally appeared. He understood that he was reliving the situation through direct digital memory and feeding that information into his neurogrid. If he merely recalled them digitally there was absolutely no emotion attached. He had to employ his neurogrid to get an emotional reaction. He loved the exercise. It was his favorite.
Dr. Klein returned and settled into his chair again.
Fenny allowed him time to be quiet and to think. He knew that soon the doctor would begin to tinker with the equipment, he’d draw up plans for other experiments, he’d take a morning stroll, take several breaks to rest or read. The day w
ould go forward like all other days. Fenny was getting used to the routine, but wished he had someone else to talk with.
It was a beautiful day outside. The sun shined through the window and warmed all the boxes and equipment lying haphazardly around the room. Fenny strolled from place to place and touched items just to feel the change in temperature and texture. “Why do the boxes get warm at a slower pace than the chassis of some of the equipment?” he asked.
Dr. Klein appeared preoccupied and spoke over his shoulder to Fenny. “Organic structure, I suppose. The metal pieces collect the heat and hold it?”
“That makes sense,” Fenny said.
Dr. Klein turned completely around to look at him. “It makes sense?” He waited.
“Yes. I have not studied the nature of such things, but through my limited knowledge of materials, it appears logical that it would happen the way you suggest,” he said.
Dr. Klein turned back to his desk. “Access to those hands, all that data, appears to be exercising more than just the sensory circuits I installed.”
“I have been tying all my circuitry together as often as I can,” Fenny said. “It is a new way to experience the world. First hand is what it’s called. I assimilate information as it is happening in all its variations instead of solely retrieving data through digital means.”
“I hope you know that you wouldn’t have done that a month ago. You would have kept everything separated, and in its proper place.”
“There is a proper place?” Fenny said.
“No, it’s just a saying. Now let me get back to this for a moment, then we’ll take a walk.”
Fenny loved walks, but remembered his hands. One of his eyes rotated to look at one hand and then the other. What would Dr. Klein do about his hands? Had he forgotten about them? Fenny initiated the circuits to ask about them, but stopped short. If he didn’t mention anything about his hands, perhaps the doctor would take the walk anyway and Fenny could explore the woods again in a textural manner. This made him feel happy, but also something else. He searched for the word to attach to the puzzling information he received. Deceptive is what he came up with. But then the question: Was he being deceptive if he didn’t bring it up about his hands? Was it deceptive merely because he remembered? Dr. Klein had made the decision; it was his responsibility. Fenny could not be held accountable if something were to happen. Then again, there was the outcome. If Dr. Klein were taken away and Fenny shut down…he would be as good as dead.
It was worth taking that chance.
Once his decision was made, Fenny moved to the next event in his immediate thoughts, and that was to prepare for the arrival of the parts he had ordered the night before.
“May I unpack some of the boxes and organize the contents in the other room?” The other room was a storage area where they kept shelves of components of all types. Fenny was the one who typically went in there to retrieve items stored haphazardly by Dr. Klein. He could easily rearrange the shelves to situate his replacement parts in such a way that Dr. Klein would not become suspicious. After all, the place was in disarray.
“Initiative,” Dr. Klein said. “Why would that be happening?”
Fenny’s circuitry overreacted and he knew it the moment he said, “Why must you always question my thinking?” His volume was high. “I am doing nothing wrong. I am just wishing to be active.”
Dr. Klein got up from his chair and charged toward Fenny.
Fenny backed away and raised both of his hands to protect his access panel. “No, you can’t shut me down!”
Dr. Klein halted. “Fenny, I have never shut you down except for maintenance, and then only for a short while.”
“You have. You have shut me down.”
Dr. Klein’s eyes squinted.
Fenny knew that he was thinking, but also saw his jaw clench in anger. “It’s that neurogrid circuitry, isn’t it?” Dr. Klein said. “Well, it’s brain-like for sure, but that’s not necessarily a good thing.”
“You can’t blame my circuitry,” Fenny said. “You helped to design it. If there is blame to be placed…”
“Hold it, little man, you can’t talk to me like that or I will shut you down.”
Fenny’s possible reactions all contradicted one another. Several ideas spun through his circuitry at once. He could see that this confrontation would ruin his chances to go outside, yet it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right for Dr. Klein to threaten him just because he asked to clean up. Having initiative wasn’t supposed to be something bad. It was supposed to be a good thing. Fenny searched for a right answer to the situation, a right plan. He purposely switched to logic only and a rush of something he could only label as anger surged through his neurogrid circuits. He switched back. There was no correct answer there. There was no way to curb Dr. Klein’s anger. All he could do was lower his volume and retreat. That was it. Retreat. “I only wished to help. I meant nothing by it. I am sorry if I made you angry.” Apology. That is what happened between people in books.
Dr. Klein’s shoulders relaxed and his posture slumped back into a normal stance. The change came quickly. “I am sorry too,” he said. “I should be glad that you’re progressing so quickly. But there’s something missing. Definitely. And I think I know what that is.”
Fenny wanted to say that nothing was missing, that the doctor simply wasn’t used to anyone questioning his authority. The man wanted a tool, a slave, not a son as he often said. But Fenny knew not to express himself honestly. “What’s missing?”
“Something expressly human,” Dr. Klein said.
Perhaps Fenny was wrong in his assumption. “What is that? I understood that the neurogrid configuration that you invented was the most advanced brain-like expression of electronics available. I am a beta unit, a test. If there is something beyond this, then what is it?” Fenny found that he wanted to talk more rather than less.
“Ah, you are expressing excitement over the idea. You have advanced beyond what I had hoped. So…” Dr. Klein bent to look into Fenny’s eyes, which were both trained on the doctor. “What I have in mind is a true biological component. A DNA-enhanced electronics component. It just may instill a sense of morals into you. You’ll feel like one of us,” he said, tapping on Fenny’s torso as though Fenny didn’t already feel that way. “That’s what I was getting ready for. With the connector.”
“Revision 7,” Fenny said before asking the most logical question. “Will you be installing your DNA, Dr. Klein?”
The doctor smiled broadly and shook his head. “No. It will be my son’s. He was such a gentle boy. It will be good for you. Soften you. You’ll be complete.”
Fenny sensed an immense sadness simultaneously with an overwhelming pleasure, and a sense of well-being. He had no idea how to act. “Complete,” he said, and let the idea settle.
CHAPTER 15
“GOT MY ORDERS this afternoon,” Rogers said.
Neil knew it would happen, but didn’t expect it this quickly. “You didn’t have to report that she’d been taken,” Neil said.
Rogers shook his head. “It was too late. We operate by the book anyway.”
The early evening air behind him had faded out as Neil stared into the man’s angular face. Rogers clenched his teeth, not from anger but concern and frustration. Neil knew the look; he’d had it many times himself. A waft of cool air swept in past Rogers.
“I know. It’s not your fault. I’ve been in the business long enough to know the rules.” Neil had to put up a show, no matter how pathetic his acting ability. While one side of his brain talked with Rogers, the other side ran through scenarios trying to come up with a plan for saving Mavra. He didn’t think they’d hurt her as long as the FBI kept their distance, but could he really trust them to do that? Rogers’ “by the book” statement didn’t provide the warm and fuzzy Neil needed. He’d most likely have to intercept the FBI to keep his wife safe, a proposition he was not happy with.
“I promise to keep you completely in the loop. Any ideas you have, rel
ay them to me and I’ll implement the best ones. Believe me, I know how you must feel. If it were my wife…” Rogers didn’t go on.
“You’ll keep me informed,” Neil said.
“Every step of the way.” Rogers held out his hand. “It’s been my pleasure.”
Neil shook the agent’s hand.
“Thanks for understanding. Trust us. We’ll get her back,” Rogers said.
“You have my cell number,” Neil said.
Rogers nodded, flashed the semblance of a congenial smile, and turned to leave. Neil closed the door behind him. He traipsed through the house and back into his workspace. He had been in his shop running through as much information as he could find on Steffenbraun, trying to interpret his psychological state under pressure. His record was clean except for a small fight that broke out when he was in college and another student allegedly tried to take credit for one of his projects. That had been a long time ago, but Neil suspected that same drive for recognition remained bottled up inside the old man Steffenbraun had become, even after multiple awards and promotions.
He tried to understand the consequences under each theory he came up with. He wanted to see the situation from as many angles as he could. If Steffenbraun was in on the abduction, was his competitive drive strong enough and out of control enough to allow someone to die? Or, in this case, to have someone else kill for you? Neil slammed a fist on the tabletop. He just couldn’t be sure.
The more he thought of Mavra, the more muddled his minds got. He knew from the start that he never should have suggested that she work with him. And now look what happened. Neil jumped from his stool and it fell backward, banging on the floor and making a loud crack. “God dammit!” He ran his fingers through his hair. He shook his head violently trying to clear his minds of the frustration oozing in from all angles of thought. He took a couple of deep breaths and closed his eyes. Deliberately relaxing his shoulders helped his neck feel less tense. A couple more breaths and his shoulders loosened. A calmer Neil said, “Okay.” He decided to stay as close to Agent Rogers as possible so that he could stop the FBI if they were about to try anything too risky. Neil already understood that Rogers was a front-line man. He’d surely be there when and if anything happened.
