Deep magic second coll.., p.14
Deep Magic - Second Collection, page 14
part #2 of Deep Magic Collection Series
“Unless that kind of bullspit was the kind of logic Grandfather might have used, and then that is exactly what an artificial intelligence of high sophistication would be programmed to use.” My brain ached. I wondered if the suit had medications for pain, anxiety and other foreseeable ailments.
“No sense arguing with you that I’m real. You have always been stubborn (my word) or determined (yours) once your mind was made up. I have said on more occasions than a porcupine has quills that once you set your path, if a mountain stood in your way, it was more likely the mountain would move than you would change course.”
“Can you just guide me to the base? Unless our landing was so compromised that a base does not exist, I want to begin moving toward it. I am confident I have recovered sufficiently to allow safe travel.” I doubted this request would work, but it was worth trying. Feeling gullible, combined with a banging headache, I was ready to move past the ridiculous protocols and learn the critical information about my mission and the landing party. The thought of finding a safe place assuaged the ice crystals in my mind.
“I think it is best to complete the proto-“
“Don’t say it!” I interrupted, perhaps sounding more harshly than I intended.
“Levi. Do you remember when you were a young boy, say nine or ten, and you wanted to learn how to drive my old Ford truck?”
I remembered.
“Do you recall how I promised to teach you to drive in a field just as soon as you were able to reach the pedals and see over the dashboard?”
“Yes.” I was glad that memory was intact. I had thought I was big enough before Grandfather believed I was. I snuck out early one Saturday morning, found the keys above the visor, and fired the truck up. By the time Grandfather reached me in the field, the truck had both front wheels stuck in the irrigation ditch and the rear wheels digging holes in the mud as they spun.
“Well, the stakes are even higher this time. Can you be patient and trust this old man, just a little?”
He almost convinced me that he was my Grandfather. Whether it was trust or resignation, I decided it did not matter. Until I finished the protocols, Grandfather was not going to direct me to the base. “Proceed. But, I really think I need to find base, so let’s make this quick.”
“Excellent. I was reciting the various approaches the governments of the world and scientific community were taking to address the problem of overpopulation and depletion of resources. The last of the highly funded approaches was genetic modification and species redesign. Labs in Australia, Europe, along the United States East Coast and New Zealand worked together to find ways to manipulate DNA, and change the nature of humankind further.”
I felt a wave beginning to build within my head. The pain behind my eyes grew. I knew I was close to something big. “Grandfather, who wrote the protocols?”
“That is the right question to ask.” Relief saturated his words. “You did.”
The wave that hit me this time was like a sunburst, illuminating the dark recesses of my memory and burning off the fog. My headache waned, and my anxiety lifted. The terror of not remembering my mission was gone. The fear of what had happened to the landing party removed. The drive to know answers I believed could be found from my Grandfather, rather the AI posing as my Grandfather, subsided.
I could feel the trembling in my neurospeech as I called out, “Grandfather. I am sorry I doubted you…” With my mind cleared, the sense of foreboding came clearly into view. I knew exactly where I was, and I was not safe.
Not sure of when it began developing, a gel of some kind pooled around me. I scrambled to my feet and felt the ground beneath me shake. It was not gel, but mucous. I began to climb. Quickly. The winds blew, and death tickled on the breeze.
Finding a thick branch, I searched for an opening. Desperation replaced panic and pushed at my logic centers to stall thought. For what seemed like minutes, I searched, knowing my death could come at any time. There. A small gap opened in the branch base. I reached in with both hands and pried a gap wide enough to slip my entire body through. As I started to pull with my arms, the structure shook and the wind blew in a torrent, ripping at my body and testing my grip. For a moment, I worried that my grip would not hold, but my strength persevered, adrenaline boosted me into the branch and fully into the opening. Immediately, my body was pulled deeper into the structure by a flowing wave of a thick, dark liquid through a series of pipes. This was better, I thought.
“I am dying to know how you did it, Levi. But, if you need to reach your destination before we talk, I can wait a little longer.”
I let my heartrate slow and checked through a quick series of relaxation techniques before responding. “You may have already noticed – I can be a bit stubborn. When my application to join the space exploration teams was rejected, I was furious. Just because I had accomplished more in the field of genetics, I should not be forced into that discipline by bureaucrats. There was only one thing I could do about it. Solve the problem for both disciplines at the same time.” I navigated the arteries, moving from one vessel to another. Several pinkish orbs began to treat me like a groupie at a Beastie Boys concert. Another Grandfather cliché based upon an embarrassing affinity to a fossil from the twentieth century. A groupie at an Orange Death concert would be more apt to the current day. I was able to keep the groupies away, but noticed more were following. By the time I reached the internal carotid artery, I was getting pressed by dozens of the pink orbs. I continued on, warily.
“But how?”
“The formulas, which I will be happy to share with you after I am restored, would fill every glass-board in every lecture hall in the American Science Institutes along the Eastern Coast. The short answer is that the Australian and New Zealand teams had the right idea, but they did not take it far enough. By modifying the genetic code, human beings could be shrunk, thereby reducing the space needed and resources required to sustain humanity. Perhaps it was the romantic tie to the works of Tolkien that limited their thinking, but New Zealand envisioned a hobbit-sized population, which would double, or possibly even triple, the number of people the Earth could sustain.
“I thought, why stop there. If genetic manipulation can shrink people to half their normal size, further reduction is possible. The difficulties arise when one is shrunk beyond a factor of ten, and the normal skeletal structure of the individual becomes an infeasible model. That is where my studies in complex systems provided the answer. By calculating and inputing data for the environment into which the person will be placed and the size of the reduction, the models I developed allowed the human genetic code to become a living program that worked with my own algorithms and models to find a solution. If a solution could be found, the programs would find it and the proverbial green light would beacon.”
I looked down at myself as I rode the wave of blood through the artery, white cells converging on me, pressing harder, causing pain. I struggled to relax, worried that fighting against them would trigger a frenzied response. I forced my mind away from the discomfort, ignored it. I found it interesting that my brain had concocted the idea that I was already on the space exploration team. No doubt, it was the easiest explanation for my landing in what appeared to be an alien terra. Additionally, my preoccupation with space travel must have played into the delusion. More interesting is that I had perceived my modified body to be a space suit. I could see now that my form was less human-like than I supposed. That was off-putting to a large degree. I had limbs, but they were covered by a hard exoskeleton-like shell. My hands had digits, but only three, and they were more like hardened claws with dexterous pads. I also realized I was not breathing through the suit, but drawing in oxygen and nutrition through my skin. I wished there was a way for Grandfather to put me under an electron microscope and photograph this form before I restored. Perhaps I would solve that dilemma next time. My eyes jerked back to my claws. Upon them were the shredded remains of several white blood cells. Bugger.
Grandfather’s interruption was timid. “How did you know that your mind would be lost, but could be recovered?”
I willed myself to continue as I felt the surging pressure of more cells attacking me with purpose. Pulling my limbs close to allow passage through the artery, I wished I was closer to my destination. “That was the most difficult part of my coding. Many failed experiments on cloned mice showed that behaviors taught to the creatures were lost upon shrinking. Any time a substantial modification of DNA took place, the memories and cognitive process were disrupted. Ultimately, I turned to the field of neuropsychology for the answer. That’s also the path that led me to the protocols. I found that if the subject was prepared ahead of time, with a series of keys and prompts that connected to specific memories, the mental recovery was not only possible, but accelerated. This became readily apparent with the first human testing in New Zealand. Our first hobbit took months to recover his memories. I knew that shrinking a person down to the size of an insect, or smaller, would cause far greater trauma to the mind.”
“And, you knew it was likely the subject would be confused about where it was and perhaps even who it was?”
“Yes. The first hobbit, believed he was actually a hobbit in Tolkien’s Middle-earth. I suppose he was so obsessed with the writing, that when he was transformed, his restructured mind created a reality that made sense. I had no idea I would think I was an astronaut, but I knew I would not likely be myself when I woke up. One thing I do not know is how long it has been since I initiated my transformation.”
The cells jammed against me, dying, clogging the pathway ahead. This was dangerous, not only for me, but for Grandfather as well. If I did not reach my destination, his immune system might kill me and block an essential artery in the process. Spinning to create space, I looked down, hoping to find a means of propulsion. I kicked my legs and found they were limber and chuck full of fast twitch fibers. I lurched ahead, clearing my path.
Grandfather felt my anxiety. “What is happening, Levi? What’s wrong?”
I lied. “Just a minor hitch on my transportation, Grandfather. No need to worry. Please go on.”
Grandfather’s tone sounded unconvinced, but he continued. “One week. I would have appreciated a little more warning and preparation for what was happening, Levi. You only spent one day with me to explain what you were doing and obtain my consent. Were you worried that I would change my mind?”
I was swimming like I had a propeller in my legs, but the white cells seemed like an endless curtain ahead of me. At least I was making progress. “Not really. I was more worried about the safety of my technology. I have all of the programming bio-locked in my computer. Nobody but me can access everything, but I still worried that others would try. Grandfather, the possible applications for this technology are endless, and many of them are very dangerous.”
“You didn’t tell me that your programs, formulas, data, etc. were all locked away on your device!” Grandfather’s tone was heated. For him, that was unusual – about as common as a rabbit playing harmonica.
“I do not trust others with this technology until I am able to secure accords regarding the ethics to govern its use.” The curtain in front of me thickened and I began to slow. I did not want to damage any more cells, but if I stopped, I would have no other option.
“Something’s not right, Levi. Your heartrate is a snare drum.”
I was about to lie again, to keep him calm, but then it hit me. I needed more pressure. “Grandfather, your white blood cells are attacking me, and threatening to stop me altogether.” I let my mind apprehend the pain my body was feeling and share a portion of it with Grandfather. Behind me, a wave of pressure built and I surged through the blockage. “That’s it, Grandfather, don’t get too upset. But, your blood pressure is keeping me going.”
“I’m not done arguing with you about your decision to keep the programming secret. What if you had not awoken, Levi? I would have had no chance to restore you if I could not have gotten into your computer! You would have been lost forever!”
I laughed. “Some scientist you are, Grandfather. I have discovered the solution to the greatest dilemma facing humanity – technology that may save billions of people, but you worry over the loss of one life.”
“That’s because I love you.”
The sincerity of his words hit me like a bowling ball to the gut. I think I may have cried if I had tear ducts. I hoped I was getting close as I was beginning to slow again. “Grandfather, if I had not awoken and recovered my mind, I would not have been able to be saved. The only way to restore me fully is to reach your neurotransmitter at the base of your brainstem, and connect to your computer, then through it access my own computer. I was able to program into the DNA the basic ability to communicate with my host neurologically, but to transmit a connection to a computer still requires a bit of hardware. When I shrunk, my neurotransmitter was left behind.
“That was why it was essential that I develop protocols that I could use as keys to unlock the doors to portions of my memories, but which would allow me to make those mental connections myself. Had you tried to simply tell me everything, my mind would likely have rejected it – like when I believed you were AI. The most successful way to restore the memories and intellect was to pre-program the brain and allow it to heal on its own with a progression of triggers to stimulate the recovery.” Within a cluster of white blood cells, I neared the Circle of Willis Artery, and quickly sped to the brainstem.
“Levi, you said before that you solved the space exploration/alternate world approach with this technology. How is that possible?”
“Now, this is where my withholding of the program files was perhaps a bit selfish. As a condition of me making all of my work available, I will negotiate a place on the first mission to colonize another world. I solved their biggest remaining problem. The first problem was the amount of time and fuel it would take to reach another planet. With genetic modification, aging is not a problem. Explorers now live the hundreds or thousands of years it will take to reach whichever world we decide to colonize. The renewable fuels, and conversion from the gasses, and radiation in space will provide the means to travel, but the space required to feed, hydrate and otherwise sustain a crew were insurmountable problems. Even if the crew were all put in stasis, the equipment needed to maintain stasis would be substantial, and the possibility that the crew would not be recoverable after being in stasis so long is a real concern.
“Yet, if the crew is shrunk down to the size of viruses, all can ride in one pilot, the plasma needed to restore the matter of the body can be incorporated into the structure of the ship, which would protect it from excessive radiation and extreme temperatures in space. More importantly, the computer modeling will allow the atmosphere of the new planet to be analyzed and the data calculated to allow the crew to be restored to a form genetically modified to live in that atmosphere.”
I approached the neurotransmitter at the base of Grandfather’s spinal cord, but could not get to it without fighting through an army of white cells and more of the lumpy duffel bags with millipede legs. Time was fleeting and options few. I channeled my inner Bruce Lee and whirred into motion, slicing through the first wave of cells and launching myself forward. Progress was slow and very painful. I imagined myself wading to shore in Australia through scores of box jellyfish. Somehow, I reached the transmitter and latched onto it. Once I touched it, I could feel the connection to his computer. I realized how much I had missed the connection to my own. Forcing the pain of the onslaught to the back of my mind, I connected to my own computer. Like a robotic octopus with nitro-fueled limbs, my mental probes clicked through the biolocks and coding to the regeneration program, and found it waiting to be executed with a simple command. Through the camera on my computer I could see Grandfather standing in my lab before a tub of pink plasma. He turned and sat in the chair. I was about to start the sequencing that would transmit the restoration code to my DNA.
Grandfather’s tone was concerned, “I am feeling a lot of pain through the link and my own head. Are you there yet?”
“Yes, it’s nearly over.”
“If my body attacks you when you enter, the test is still a failure is it not?”
I sighed. “If something goes awry in my restoration, my computer is now unlocked and the programs are available. I’m confident we can counter the immune system by coating me with a layer of the host human DNA. Then, the body will perceive the small intruder as tissue from the host. I worried that this might be a problem, but I did not want to add too many variables to the programming.”
“Always seven steps ahead, Levi.”
“I need to tell you two more things before I start the program. Grandfather, I love you; and I am very grateful you agreed to help me with this test.”
I clicked start.
Grandfather continued. “So, when do you think you are going to leave me for that long space journey?” The sadness had returned to his voice.
“Who said anything about leaving you behind? One of my terms will be that you are part of the team.”
“But I’m not a pilot.”
I chuckled, and it still sounded metallic and odd. “You aren’t, but by the time we leave, I will be. You get to do the downsizing next time.”
Grandfather started to argue, but the sequence kicked in and I began to grow. I slipped through the port at the base of grandfather’s skull, ready to land in the tub of plasma. That kind of convincing would require a face-to-face conversation.
ABOUT BRENDON TAYLOR
Brendon is an attorney during the workweek, a writer when he can find time, a food and camping enthusiast often, a frustrated Miami Dolphins fan each fall, and a loving husband and father all of the time. He has been at Merrill & Merrill, Chartered in Pocatello, Idaho since he became an attorney in 1999, after graduating from Washburn Law School in Topeka, Kansas. He was an original founder of Deep Magic in 2002 and has written many articles, short stories and contracts since its inception.
