in Canada. In fact there’s now a whole new biology of synthetic replicants, although hardly any practical applications have been found for them so far.
“When Sakulin announced his results, naturally we were terribly disappointed–except for Maurice. In an upside-down way he was almost pleased. Because, you see, we’d been attacking the problem by an entirely different route, and it had led Maurice to something that as far as we know is still unique. The moment he indicated the implications to us, we became quite as excited as we had been miserable an hour ago.”
Sawyer’s strained face showed he was making a gallant attempt to keep in touch but wasn’t convinced he was succeeding.
Randolph rubbed his chin. “To start with, you presumably know that the way we perceive the world is a function of a series of electrochemical interactions. The most dramatic proof lies in the fact that our consciousness can be disturbed even by such a small thing as a blow, more violently by–say–alcohol, and very severely indeed by a high fever or a powerful drug. Yes? Moreover, what we regard as a normal mental state can often be chemically restored, as for example by a tranquilliser.”
There were nods: doubtful from Sawyer, urgent from Hector, automatic from the landlady, who still stood ignored in the doorway.
“Moreover, it’s known that we do not ordinarily operate at maximum potential. Direct stimulation of the brain with tiny electrodes can bring back memories that are usually inaccessible. That was one of Maurice’s starting-points. Another clue came from hallucinogens, which destroy perceptual sets and make things we’ve seen a thousand times fresh and novel. And he was fascinated by the fact that certain types of heavy-metal poisoning reduce the efficiency of the nervous system and cause significant derangement, yet can be cured by administering a chelating agent, a sort of internal detergent:”
Randolph licked his lips. “So he’d been wondering for a long time whether our–our clumsiness in thinking might be due to a remediable cause. You know we are terribly lazy where thinking is concerned. We don’t recall, let alone reason with, a fraction of the information we receive. Yet it’s in store, and the right stimulus can bring it back.
“Anyway! Among the large number of compounds Maurice had evaluated was one he wanted to study in depth. Only so long as we still stood a chance of being first in the field with a synthetic replicant we had neither time nor resources to divert to it. Privately, however, he’d been doing some amazing theoretical analyses of its properties, and he said flatly that it ought to have an unprecedented effect on the nervous system, including the brain. He claimed it would excite a form of activity usually observed in association with the stimulus of novelty which– Oh, hell. I’m getting tied up in double-talk!”
“In lay terms”–unexpectedly from Kneller–“he said it would amplify intelligence. And damned if he wasn’t as near to right as makes no difference. If that bastard, whoever he was, hadn’t bashed his head in, he’d have been on the short list for the Nobel as a result.”
“That’s misleading,” Randolph objected. “What we suspect it does is make selective inattention more difficult. Are you familiar with the term? It’s the habit of ordering incoming sense-data into arbitrary classes, ‘important/unimportant’. I say arbitrary because although most authorities claim this is what keeps us sane, Maurice disagreed, and I now accept that he proved his point. At any rate, in our lab animals the response is uniformly positive.”
Kneller nodded. “Yes, rats and hamsters that typically make terribly broad classifications of events will suddenly start to react in ways that can only he accounted for by assuming they’re registering differences of the kind we humans pay attention to: colour, texture, time of day, what sort of lab-coat you’re wearing
“When Sakulin announced his results, naturally we were terribly disappointed–except for Maurice. In an upside-down way he was almost pleased. Because, you see, we’d been attacking the problem by an entirely different route, and it had led Maurice to something that as far as we know is still unique. The moment he indicated the implications to us, we became quite as excited as we had been miserable an hour ago.”
Sawyer’s strained face showed he was making a gallant attempt to keep in touch but wasn’t convinced he was succeeding.
Randolph rubbed his chin. “To start with, you presumably know that the way we perceive the world is a function of a series of electrochemical interactions. The most dramatic proof lies in the fact that our consciousness can be disturbed even by such a small thing as a blow, more violently by–say–alcohol, and very severely indeed by a high fever or a powerful drug. Yes? Moreover, what we regard as a normal mental state can often be chemically restored, as for example by a tranquilliser.”
There were nods: doubtful from Sawyer, urgent from Hector, automatic from the landlady, who still stood ignored in the doorway.
“Moreover, it’s known that we do not ordinarily operate at maximum potential. Direct stimulation of the brain with tiny electrodes can bring back memories that are usually inaccessible. That was one of Maurice’s starting-points. Another clue came from hallucinogens, which destroy perceptual sets and make things we’ve seen a thousand times fresh and novel. And he was fascinated by the fact that certain types of heavy-metal poisoning reduce the efficiency of the nervous system and cause significant derangement, yet can be cured by administering a chelating agent, a sort of internal detergent:”
Randolph licked his lips. “So he’d been wondering for a long time whether our–our clumsiness in thinking might be due to a remediable cause. You know we are terribly lazy where thinking is concerned. We don’t recall, let alone reason with, a fraction of the information we receive. Yet it’s in store, and the right stimulus can bring it back.
“Anyway! Among the large number of compounds Maurice had evaluated was one he wanted to study in depth. Only so long as we still stood a chance of being first in the field with a synthetic replicant we had neither time nor resources to divert to it. Privately, however, he’d been doing some amazing theoretical analyses of its properties, and he said flatly that it ought to have an unprecedented effect on the nervous system, including the brain. He claimed it would excite a form of activity usually observed in association with the stimulus of novelty which– Oh, hell. I’m getting tied up in double-talk!”
“In lay terms”–unexpectedly from Kneller–“he said it would amplify intelligence. And damned if he wasn’t as near to right as makes no difference. If that bastard, whoever he was, hadn’t bashed his head in, he’d have been on the short list for the Nobel as a result.”
“That’s misleading,” Randolph objected. “What we suspect it does is make selective inattention more difficult. Are you familiar with the term? It’s the habit of ordering incoming sense-data into arbitrary classes, ‘important/unimportant’. I say arbitrary because although most authorities claim this is what keeps us sane, Maurice disagreed, and I now accept that he proved his point. At any rate, in our lab animals the response is uniformly positive.”
Kneller nodded. “Yes, rats and hamsters that typically make terribly broad classifications of events will suddenly start to react in ways that can only he accounted for by assuming they’re registering differences of the kind we humans pay attention to: colour, texture, time of day, what sort of lab-coat you’re wearing
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