holding
a syringe. The prototype’s shouting degenerated into incoherent
screams, staccato yells that punctuated the bedlam.
“AH! AH! AH!
AH!–”
The noise died down
almost instantly as the doctor injected the prototype with the
syringe. The doctor moved out of view and the camera took a
half-second to refocus. When it did, Chal could clearly see the man
lying in the hospital bed. His eyes were glazed over, but his face
was twisted with emotion. Blood trickled down his arm and dripped off
of his elbow, splashing on the white vinyl flooring of the lab.
Johnner reached over
and stopped the recording.
“What
happened?” Chal asked.
“There’s
nothing more than this,” Johnner said. “Later attempts to
reawaken the prototype were unsuccessful.”
“I mean,”
Chal said, “what happened to him? Why did he malfunction?”
“That,”
Lieutenant Johnner said, “is what we were hoping you could tell
us.”
Dr. Fielding knocked
at the glass door, and Lieutenant Johnner went to open it for him. As
he walked in and sat down in one of the chairs, Chal noticed that he
averted his gaze from hers. She was about to ask him something about
the first prototype interview when she felt the floor move under her
feet. The metal bench rattled against the wall.
Chal stood up in
fright, certain that the lab station was under attack, that the
entire building was about to crumble, that she would die– that
they would all die here, hundreds of feet under the ground.
Somewhat amusingly, she thought about the book signing in Boston she
had missed because of this. She would never get to do another book
signing .
And then, just like
that, it was over. Dr. Fielding and Lieutenant Johnner were still
sitting in their seats, as calm as anything.
“What the hell was that?” Chal said, still standing.
“Earthquake,”
Dr. Fielding said, and now he met her eyes with his, dark empty
pools. His cool tone annoyed her, as though she should have been
expecting such an occurrence.
“We get them
here all the time,” Johnner said. “I’m sorry, I
should have warned you. This part of Arizona is very close to the Big
Chino fault line.”
“Great idea to
build an underground facility here, wasn’t it?” Chal
said.
“It’s
only small quakes,” Dr. Fielding said, and again Chal was
irritated by the condescending quality of his voice.
“This building
is built to withstand earthquakes up to 6-7 on the Richter scale,”
Johnner continued. “And there have never been any quakes around
here that are more than a 3. It’s safe.”
Chal didn’t
think that any kind of earthquake was safe, but she was clearly
outnumbered. Turning back to the matter at hand, she tried to
remember her question for Dr. Fielding. It wasn’t coming to
her.
“The prototype
said it was malfunctioning,” Chal said.
“Yes,”
Dr. Fielding said. “This is a standard error message that was,
for lack of a better word, programmed into the organisms’
mental structure. When their mental structure is in peril, this is
the phrase that indicates that they need help.”
“Programmed?”
“Language
turns out to be a fairly simple structure to grow in neuronal
substrates,” Dr. Fielding said, with not a small hint of pride
in his voice. “Of course, they have the grammar/content
structures, but there is also a set of built-in responses.”
“Using
language memory chips?” Chal asked.
“Yes,”
Dr. Fielding confirmed. “But we’ve also been able to
graft in language structures that function much as a baby’s do.
They are pre-equipped with certain syntactical structures. In other
words, they are able to expand vocabulary, make connections, and
learn how to speak almost instantly upon awakening.”
“If they don’t
die immediately,” Chal said.
Dr. Fielding
flushed. “Of course we are working out the issues with the
awakening process, but I see no reason to think that the language
structure is part of the problem.”
“No,”
Chal said, her mind
a syringe. The prototype’s shouting degenerated into incoherent
screams, staccato yells that punctuated the bedlam.
“AH! AH! AH!
AH!–”
The noise died down
almost instantly as the doctor injected the prototype with the
syringe. The doctor moved out of view and the camera took a
half-second to refocus. When it did, Chal could clearly see the man
lying in the hospital bed. His eyes were glazed over, but his face
was twisted with emotion. Blood trickled down his arm and dripped off
of his elbow, splashing on the white vinyl flooring of the lab.
Johnner reached over
and stopped the recording.
“What
happened?” Chal asked.
“There’s
nothing more than this,” Johnner said. “Later attempts to
reawaken the prototype were unsuccessful.”
“I mean,”
Chal said, “what happened to him? Why did he malfunction?”
“That,”
Lieutenant Johnner said, “is what we were hoping you could tell
us.”
Dr. Fielding knocked
at the glass door, and Lieutenant Johnner went to open it for him. As
he walked in and sat down in one of the chairs, Chal noticed that he
averted his gaze from hers. She was about to ask him something about
the first prototype interview when she felt the floor move under her
feet. The metal bench rattled against the wall.
Chal stood up in
fright, certain that the lab station was under attack, that the
entire building was about to crumble, that she would die– that
they would all die here, hundreds of feet under the ground.
Somewhat amusingly, she thought about the book signing in Boston she
had missed because of this. She would never get to do another book
signing .
And then, just like
that, it was over. Dr. Fielding and Lieutenant Johnner were still
sitting in their seats, as calm as anything.
“What the hell was that?” Chal said, still standing.
“Earthquake,”
Dr. Fielding said, and now he met her eyes with his, dark empty
pools. His cool tone annoyed her, as though she should have been
expecting such an occurrence.
“We get them
here all the time,” Johnner said. “I’m sorry, I
should have warned you. This part of Arizona is very close to the Big
Chino fault line.”
“Great idea to
build an underground facility here, wasn’t it?” Chal
said.
“It’s
only small quakes,” Dr. Fielding said, and again Chal was
irritated by the condescending quality of his voice.
“This building
is built to withstand earthquakes up to 6-7 on the Richter scale,”
Johnner continued. “And there have never been any quakes around
here that are more than a 3. It’s safe.”
Chal didn’t
think that any kind of earthquake was safe, but she was clearly
outnumbered. Turning back to the matter at hand, she tried to
remember her question for Dr. Fielding. It wasn’t coming to
her.
“The prototype
said it was malfunctioning,” Chal said.
“Yes,”
Dr. Fielding said. “This is a standard error message that was,
for lack of a better word, programmed into the organisms’
mental structure. When their mental structure is in peril, this is
the phrase that indicates that they need help.”
“Programmed?”
“Language
turns out to be a fairly simple structure to grow in neuronal
substrates,” Dr. Fielding said, with not a small hint of pride
in his voice. “Of course, they have the grammar/content
structures, but there is also a set of built-in responses.”
“Using
language memory chips?” Chal asked.
“Yes,”
Dr. Fielding confirmed. “But we’ve also been able to
graft in language structures that function much as a baby’s do.
They are pre-equipped with certain syntactical structures. In other
words, they are able to expand vocabulary, make connections, and
learn how to speak almost instantly upon awakening.”
“If they don’t
die immediately,” Chal said.
Dr. Fielding
flushed. “Of course we are working out the issues with the
awakening process, but I see no reason to think that the language
structure is part of the problem.”
“No,”
Chal said, her mind
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