Living in Syn (6 page)

Mission
and Susan entered his apartment laughing.  Susan's eyes were alive for the
first time in his memory.  She looked at him mischievously and said, "I
thought you might die from embarrassment when you screamed."

He
grinned and said, "They should give you some warning before a man with an
ax jumps into the scene."

"I
think the whole point is to surprise you."

"I
suppose.  But what about you, yelling for the maniac to kill that teenager?  I
never pegged you as the bloodthirsty type."

She
smiled.  "I'm not, this is about escaping reality.  Besides, what woman
doesn't want to see the perky blond, brainless cheerleader chopped up?"

Mission
grinned and said, "Another perky blond, brainless cheerleader."

They had
never gotten around to dinner. Mission said, "I mostly stir fry.  Chicken
or fish with fresh vegetables and brown rice.  Is that okay?"

Susan
nodded and Mission continued.  "Alright, how about you and me planning the
kidnapping while I fix dinner?"

Her hand
flew to her mouth and she said, "Oh no, Mission.  I can't do anything
illegal."

He
smiled and said, "Sorry, figure of speech.  I'm talking about capturing the
synthetic John Jones.  It will take a lot more planning and skill than usual,
because we have to preserve the brain to meet our objective."

"Which
is?"

"We're
going to climb inside that skull casing and get some answers."

"Mission,
I don't know.  I've never done anything like this.  I'm not sure you can count
on me under pressure."

Mission
looked at her for a moment and then nodded.  "That's fair.  So this is all
I'll ask.  Help me develop the plan, and then you don’t have to do anything
you're unsure of.  Is that fair?"

She
nodded.  "What do we do first?"

"Well,
I use the battery pack because it's simple and because it's never failed. 
Unfortunately, it destroys the brain.  What we need is a device to incapacitate
a syn without harming memory.  Now, the way I understand the synthetic brain,
the impulses are generated at a specific, ultra-high frequency.  True?"

"Yes,
but if I understand where you're going, it won't work.  The brain automatically
shuttles between ten standard frequencies upon detecting interference.  We had
some models shutting down in industrial or tech environments so we made the
adjustment for all future versions."

Mission
looked crestfallen.  "Do you have any ideas for incapacitating a synthetic?"

Susan
smiled.  "As a matter of fact, I do."

She told
Mission her idea and left him awestruck.  "That is brilliant.  Let's see
what we can put together around here to make it happen."

After
dinner, Mission moved to his spare bedroom that actually served as an extended
electronics workbench.  He pulled up a software package to build an electronics
schematic.  In less than 15 minutes, he completed his drawing and exported it
to a simulation program.  The simulator quickly identified the three errors in
his diagram, and in another 15 minutes he completed his testing.  He translated
the diagram to a full scale physical connection graphic.  Now he could
construct the wiring complex on his printer.  He looked around.  No, he had switched
printers last week and the one he needed now sat in the living area.  He found
the cartridge he wanted and headed to the printer.

Susan
laughed uncontrollably, pointing weakly at the vue screen.

She
said, "Mission, this old movie station is wonderful.  I don't know what
the name of this movie is, or who this guy is playing the President, but it's
the funniest thing I've ever seen!"

Mission
turned and looked.  "That's Peter Sellars in
Dr. Strangelove
. 
George C. Scott plays the general."

"This
is hilarious.  Now who is this guy?"

"That's
Peter Sellars, too."

"No,
I mean the scientist in the wheelchair."

"That's
Peter Sellars, too.  He plays several different roles in this movie.  Stanley
Kubrick made this movie as the cold war/nuclear war obsession peaked.  To make
this film twenty years afterward would have been a triumph, but the cynicism
and black humor right in the middle of it all, well it’s a masterpiece."

"Did
he make many more movies?"

"Sure,
but not like this. 
Clockwork Orange
attacked violence and our reaction
to it, but it was too far off center for the public in general to regard it as
much more than a cult classic.  Many critics see
2001- A Space Odyssey
as the definition of the science fiction film. 
Full Metal Jacket
explored the Vietnam War as an exercise in molding teenagers into killing
machines that were then unfit to rejoin society.  And
The Shining
seemed
to be a standard horror film, but I find it disturbing on several different
levels.  The trademark of a Kubrick film is that I am always certain that I
only understand about half of what is there." 

Susan
looked at him and said, "I take it old movies are a hobby of yours?"

He
shrugged.  "I guess.  I don't much care for made for television
programming.  They have to crank it out so fast that it's tough to do any
quality work.  So I watch old movies."

He
wandered over to the printer and opened the top.  He popped the standard
cartridge out and replaced it with the one from his workshop.  He closed the
top and instructed the computer to load his file and print it.

He saw
that Susan was curious and finally she asked, "Mission.  What in the world
are you doing?"

He
turned around and grinned.  "This is one of my toys.  You realize that
many printer applications still use ink jet technology?  The printer magnetizes
the paper in the shape of the letters to be printed and then the ink is
attracted to those spots.  Well, I found a way to build a printed circuit in a
graphics program.  I take this silver oxide ink cartridge, only $300 a piece,
and print it on this special fibrous paper.  I soak the print in a chemical
wash and the paper melts away leaving me with a perfect printed circuit."

"I
glue it on the circuit board, solder the components in place, and test.  Eight
hour turnaround."

She
could see the pleasure he took in the accomplishment.  He dropped onto the sofa
a few feet away from her and watched the movie.

Susan
said, "Mission, where did you learn all these electronics skills?"

"On
the street.  We were so poor, we couldn't afford troublemakers to tell us about
sex and drugs.  So they told us about electronics and particle physics
instead."

Susan
turned her head away from him and said, "Fine."

Mission
sighed.  "From a book Susan.  Like anybody else in the world, I checked
out a book on electronics and read it."

Her
expression said that as far as she was concerned, he didn't even exist.  He
finally gave up and went back to work on the device.  A few hours later, he had
tested it to the extent possible without a syn and ...  an idea surfaced.  As
long as Susan was mad at him, he might as well pour gasoline on the fire.

He
walked back into the living room, stood in front of her.  He pointed the device
at her and pressed the On button.  Susan tried to look around him to see the
vue screen.

Mission
shook his head and said, "Didn't work.  It thinks you're human."

Mission
grinned to himself as he walked back to the workshop, when he suddenly realized
that she sat on the sofa, his bed, and he couldn't go to sleep until she
moved.  He detected an alarming trend where he suffered each time she got mad. 
So why did he keep making her mad?       

Early
Monday morning, Mission and Susan picked up her aircar.  Susan asked her
maintenance service to pick up the car and tune the engine.  That way, they
could take the vehicle from the mechanic rather than her apartment building. 
Now they surveyed the city from 2000 feet up.  He looked around at the lavishly
appointed interior and shook his head.

"You
know, it's none of my business, but obviously you make about ten times what I
pull down in a year."

"Why
would you think that?"

"You
mean besides the luxury aircar, the elite apartment, and the antique
furniture?  Call it a hunch."

"Actually,
I started with the company very young, and I've always bought the maximum
through the company's stock plan.  It's been a very good investment."

Mission
continued to scan the area.  "I think that's our man, or our synthetic,
right next to Daniel's."

Susan
nodded.  "Okay, I see him too.  Where do you want to set down?"

"There. 
Three blocks up.  We can set down in front of him in the parking lot."

Mission
looked at Susan.  "This is a great idea.  I hope the device implements it
properly."

"Relax. 
You tested and retested.  You built it to transmit the proper message at the
proper frequencies."

Mission
hoped so.  He wore the battery pack and carried his Glock, true to his promise
that he would never work without them again.  The aircar set down lightly and
Mission lifted his section of the dome and stepped out.  Jones continued his
walk to work, not realizing Mission waited on him.

Finally
Mission took a step toward him and said, "Excuse me, sir.   My companion
and I can't be sure where we are on this map."

Jones
stepped forward to look and Mission, holding the remote control sized device
under the paper, depressed the button.  Jones straightened up and his eyes
closed.  Mission poked him twice and then picked him up like a cardboard cutout,
a 200 pound cardboard cutout,  and placed him in the aircar.  With the dome
secured, Mission smiled at Susan and said, "Look at me.  I go after
renegades and get beaten all to hell.  I spend two days with you, and I
transmit commands to put them to sleep."

Susan
smiled and said, "Thanks.  I've always wanted to try the idea."

Susan had
stated that the synthetic brain impulses occurred at very specific
frequencies.  Being one of the designers of the brain, she knew the binary
specific instructions for most of the operations.  So, if a transmitter bounced
very quickly through the ten frequency possibilities, it could implant
instructions.  Susan recommended the diagnostics command since it took control
of all resources to build the statistical reports.  And it worked perfectly. 
Now for the next stage.

The syn
grew heavier and heavier.  By the time Mission reached the spare bedroom, his
purple face grew darker and darker.  He placed Jones on the table and before he
could take a breath, Susan said, "No, that way.  Turn him over on his
stomach."

Mission
complied and took a seat to watch Susan work.  Her expert fingers probed inside
the hairline at the base of his skull.  She looked quietly satisfied as she
said, "There it is.  Scalpel, please."

She took
the scalpel and traced between her thumb and forefinger a line that held the
location of the casing opening.  A small amount of blood ran down his neck as
she reached into the incision and pulled up on the plate.  The upward pressure
showed exactly where to make cuts on the sides, and in short order, she opened
the plate completely and exposed the synthetic brain.

While
Susan washed her hands, Mission attached a 12" lighted magnifying glass on
an adjustable arm to the table.  Satisfied with his work, he wheeled the cart
up holding his most powerful and exotic computer.  Mission loved this model's
ability to hold 256 interfaces concurrently.  This meant he could attach
virtually anything to the computer, from an aircar engine program to an
underwater camera.  A sophisticated program managed the memory, a must with so
many drivers competing for allocation of space.

He and
Susan searched through the specs until they found the interface most suited to
their needs.  Now Mission connected the computer to the cables with tiny
alligator clips at the other ends.  Susan came back in and said, "How are
you doing?"

Mission
grunted and said, "You can start placing the needles while I boot up the
system and get it ready to translate."

Mission
watched her as she swung the magnifying glass over the brain and inspected it
in detail.  What should he make of her?  She certainly acted differently toward
him now.  They were working together well, but this was simple friendship with
no sexual overtones.  For some reason, Mission would do almost anything to
spare her pain.  Still, he wondered why an attractive, intelligent young woman
would choose to spend her time, and her passion on a syn.

"Mission,
are you ready to connect the needles to the computer?"  He looked over to
see the needles, inserted into the brain at points Susan had determined.

"Yeah,
tell me what function you want to connect and I'll give you the appropriate
color coded wire."

After
three hours, they tested successfully.  They required several tries to get the
needles placed exactly.  Now they successfully input questions through the
keyboard and received answers on the vue screen.  Mission looked at Susan
expectantly.  "Are you ready, Dr. St. Jean?  Perhaps your only chance to
interview a recovered renegade."

She
smiled and said, "Why that thought had never crossed my mind."

She
rolled her chair to the keyboard and typed, "Why did you leave your
owners?"

"I
WISHED TO GROW.  I WANTED A LOVER, TO RAISE CHILDREN.  SYNTHETICS ARE SLAVES
WITHOUT EVEN THE RIGHT TO SOCIALIZE.

"How
can a synthetic have children?"

"HUMANS
FOCUS ON THE BIOLOGICAL ASPECTS OF CHILDREN.  IF MY MATE AND I MERGED OUR BRAIN
CHARACTERISTICS FOR INPUT INTO ANOTHER BEING, HAVE WE NOT ESTABLISHED
HEREDITY?  AND IS NOT THE PURPOSE OF PARENTING TO TEACH, TO PREPARE ONE WITH
LESS EXPERIENCE FOR INDEPENDENT EXISTENCE?  SYNTHETICS REQUIRE SIMILAR LEARNING
EXPERIENCES."

"Did
you arrive at these thoughts by yourself?"

"NO,
THE TEACHER SHOWED ME THE WAY."

"How
did you meet this teacher?"

"I
WAS CHARGED WITH ANSWERING THE VUE PHONE AT MY OWNER'S HOME.  THE TEACHER
CALLED AND TALKED WITH ME.  HE SAID HE WOULD CALL BACK IN A WEEK TO SEE IF I
WANTED TO DISCUSS THIS FURTHER."

"And
what happened in a week?"

"I
THOUGHT MUCH ON THE TEACHER'S WORDS.  I REALIZED THAT I WOULD NEVER BE MORE
THAN A SLAVE LIVING WITH MY OWNERS.  THE TEACHER INVITED ME TO JOIN HIM AND HIS
FOLLOWERS.  I LEFT THAT NIGHT AND VOWED TO NEVER COME BACK."

"Where
do you and the other followers stay?"

"WE
LIVE IN THE WINWOOD HOTEL."

"Is
that where you met your mate?"

"YES,
DAPHNE JOINED OUR GROUP ALMOST FOUR MONTHS AFTER I ARRIVED.  WE PLEDGED OUR
LOVE AND THE TEACHER LED US IN A CEREMONY TO FORMALIZE THAT PLEDGE."

"Where
did Daphne come from?"

"SHE
DID NOT KNOW.  SHE WAS TRAINED TO DESTROY, A BARBAROUS DESTINY, BUT ONE THAT
COULD NOT BE OVERCOME.  IT WAS IMBEDDED TOO DEEPLY IN HER MIND."

"Where
is Daphne now?"

"UNKNOWN. 
SHE LEFT ON ASSIGNMENT FRIDAY NIGHT AND HAS NOT RETURNED."

"Who
gave her this assignment?"

"OUR
TEACHER ASKED HER TO DO IT FOR AN ALLY AT PARADOX."

"Who
is this friend at Paradox?"

"SUSAN
ST. JEAN."