Ichiro, said, “I’m going to turn it on. Just watch them for anything unusual. I don’t know how rats are supposed to behave.”
“You’re not going to let them heal first?” Reiko asked. The heads of the rats had small, fresh sutures radiating from the tack.
“What does it matter?” Ichiro responded. “Nothing like a distraction to ease the pain, right?” He didn’t wait for her to reply before he flipped a switch. She didn’t argue anymore, she turned her attention immediately to the two rats. Everyone behind her pressed forward to see.
At first, nothing changed. They were both perfectly stationary, probably still experiencing the sedation from the surgery. Slowly, the rat on her left began turning in a counterclockwise direction, gradually increasing its speed until it was hopping in a circle. The one on the right continued not to move.
“What are they seeing?” Reiko asked to anyone that would answer.
Haru, the programmer, said from behind her, “From all four of their eyes. None of us know how the data will be processed in their brains, though. My guess is that it looks something like permanently having yours eyes crossed. Which sounds brutal, but maybe if you get used to it, it wouldn’t be so bad. Eyes that travel in different directions, eyes that could look directly at each other, without a mirror in between. And then there’s the sound, and the tactile sensations... I don’t know. But they’re definitely sharing information—look over here.” He indicated a computer monitor that was off to one side, which was displaying a bunch of numbers that had no meaning to Reiko. “This number is the amount of data being sent out, and this one is the amount coming in, for the rat on the left. Huge numbers.”
Reiko turned back to the rats, to look closer at the one on the right. It was lying down. “What about the other one?” she asked.
“The same numbers of course, just in reverse.”
Toru leaned toward the table, to address Reiko as she inspected the rats. “Well, how do they look?”
“They don’t seem terribly abnormal,” she responded. “And I’ve seen some terribly abnormal rats. Whatever is happening to them, it’s no worse than a moderate dose of cocaine. At least not yet. But of course I’ll need to watch them longer.”
“Of course,” Toru said. “If things look good over the next few days, we’ll get the other groups set up, and go from there.”
Apparently that was a signal to the entire group that the show was over, and to file out of the room. But before anyone left, they first approached the rats one by one, and looked at them with a sense of pride, or fondness. It was probably their machines they were looking at, Reiko thought, finally embedded in a living organism. The rats most likely meant nothing to them, except as a mode of transportation for their dream. It occurred to her that they’d probably spent years getting that far, and it was a huge milestone for them. It was her first day. So she stood aside, to let them all have the room they needed.
And eventually she was almost alone in the room, with the exception of Mr. Okada, who had never moved from his spot in the back. “Interesting stuff, right?” he said, stepping forward and smiling. “It’ll be even more interesting if it does any of the things that it’s supposed to do. Anyway, I wanted to apologize for being as vague as I have been about your duties, but I mean it when I say that the only thing I need from you is your best guess about what’s happening to them, and how it affects them. And you can go about formulating that guess however you want, although I prefer you base it on some science or another. Your guess is your final product. It’s all I need from you, but I absolutely need it.
“This is all preliminary work, the things we’re doing here—someone else will test our product, when we get to that stage, and they’ll probably do the exact same types of experiments as we already
“You’re not going to let them heal first?” Reiko asked. The heads of the rats had small, fresh sutures radiating from the tack.
“What does it matter?” Ichiro responded. “Nothing like a distraction to ease the pain, right?” He didn’t wait for her to reply before he flipped a switch. She didn’t argue anymore, she turned her attention immediately to the two rats. Everyone behind her pressed forward to see.
At first, nothing changed. They were both perfectly stationary, probably still experiencing the sedation from the surgery. Slowly, the rat on her left began turning in a counterclockwise direction, gradually increasing its speed until it was hopping in a circle. The one on the right continued not to move.
“What are they seeing?” Reiko asked to anyone that would answer.
Haru, the programmer, said from behind her, “From all four of their eyes. None of us know how the data will be processed in their brains, though. My guess is that it looks something like permanently having yours eyes crossed. Which sounds brutal, but maybe if you get used to it, it wouldn’t be so bad. Eyes that travel in different directions, eyes that could look directly at each other, without a mirror in between. And then there’s the sound, and the tactile sensations... I don’t know. But they’re definitely sharing information—look over here.” He indicated a computer monitor that was off to one side, which was displaying a bunch of numbers that had no meaning to Reiko. “This number is the amount of data being sent out, and this one is the amount coming in, for the rat on the left. Huge numbers.”
Reiko turned back to the rats, to look closer at the one on the right. It was lying down. “What about the other one?” she asked.
“The same numbers of course, just in reverse.”
Toru leaned toward the table, to address Reiko as she inspected the rats. “Well, how do they look?”
“They don’t seem terribly abnormal,” she responded. “And I’ve seen some terribly abnormal rats. Whatever is happening to them, it’s no worse than a moderate dose of cocaine. At least not yet. But of course I’ll need to watch them longer.”
“Of course,” Toru said. “If things look good over the next few days, we’ll get the other groups set up, and go from there.”
Apparently that was a signal to the entire group that the show was over, and to file out of the room. But before anyone left, they first approached the rats one by one, and looked at them with a sense of pride, or fondness. It was probably their machines they were looking at, Reiko thought, finally embedded in a living organism. The rats most likely meant nothing to them, except as a mode of transportation for their dream. It occurred to her that they’d probably spent years getting that far, and it was a huge milestone for them. It was her first day. So she stood aside, to let them all have the room they needed.
And eventually she was almost alone in the room, with the exception of Mr. Okada, who had never moved from his spot in the back. “Interesting stuff, right?” he said, stepping forward and smiling. “It’ll be even more interesting if it does any of the things that it’s supposed to do. Anyway, I wanted to apologize for being as vague as I have been about your duties, but I mean it when I say that the only thing I need from you is your best guess about what’s happening to them, and how it affects them. And you can go about formulating that guess however you want, although I prefer you base it on some science or another. Your guess is your final product. It’s all I need from you, but I absolutely need it.
“This is all preliminary work, the things we’re doing here—someone else will test our product, when we get to that stage, and they’ll probably do the exact same types of experiments as we already
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