Робин Кук - Brain

The man who had not taken his eyes from Philips said, “You got him here, but are you going to be able to control him?”

“I think so,” said Michaels.

Martin watched this strange exchange, his eyes moving from Michaels to the man in the jumpsuit. Suddenly he recognized the face. It was the man who’d killed Werner!

“Martin,” said Michaels softly, almost paternally. “I’ve got some things to show you.”

The stranger interrupted. “Dr. Michaels, I can guarantee that the FBI will not act precipitously. But what the CIA does is not under my control. I hope you understand that, Dr. Michaels.”

Michaels spun around. “Mr. Sansone. I’m aware that the CIA is not your jurisdiction. I need some more time with Dr. Philips.”

Turning back to Philips he said, “Martin, I want to show you something. Come on.” He took a step toward the door connecting to the neighboring amphitheater.

Martin was paralyzed. His hands were gripping the brass railing that fringed the pit. Relief had become perplexity, and with the perplexity had come the deep rumbling of renewed fear.

“What is going on here?” he asked with a sense of dread. He spoke slowly, enunciating each word.

“That’s what I want to show you,” Michaels said. “Come on!”

“Where’s Denise?” Philips didn’t move a muscle.

“She’s perfectly safe. Believe me. Come on.” Michaels stepped back over to Philips and grabbed his wrist to encourage him to step down into the pit. “Let me show you some things. Relax. You’ll see Denise in a few minutes.”

Philips allowed himself to be led past Sansone and into the next amphitheater. The young student had gone in before them and switched on the light. Martin saw another amphitheater, whose seats had been removed. In the pit where he was standing was a huge screen made of millions of light-sensitive photoreceptor cells whose wires fed into a processing unit. From this first processor emerged a significantly smaller number of wires, which were gathered into two trunks that led into two computers. Wires from these computers led into other computers, which were cross-connected. The setup filled the room.

“Do you have any idea what you’re looking at?” asked Michaels.

Martin shook his head.

“You’re looking at the first computerized model of the human visual system. It’s large, primitive by our current standards, but surprisingly functional. The images are flashed on the screen and the computers you see here associate the information.” Michaels made a sweeping gesture with his hands. “What you are looking at, Martin, is akin to that first atomic pile they built at Princeton. This will be one of the biggest scientific breakthroughs in history.”

Martin looked at Michaels. Maybe the man was crazy.

“We have created the fourth-generation computer!” said Michaels, and he slapped Philips on the back. “Listen. The first generation was merely the first computers that were not just calculators. The second generation came in with transistors. The third generation was microchips. We have given birth to the fourth generation, and that little processor you have in your office is one of our first applications. You know what we’ve done?”

Philips shook his head. Michaels was on fire with excitement.

“We’ve created true artificial intelligence! We’ve made computers that think. They learn and they reason. It had to come, and we did it!” Michaels grabbed Martin’s arm and pulled him into the hall connecting the two old amphitheaters. There between the two-tiered lecture rooms was the door that led into the old Microbiology and Physiology labs. When Michaels opened it, Martin saw the inside had been reinforced with steel. Behind it was a second door. It too was reinforced and secured. Michaels unlocked it with a special key and pulled it open. It was like stepping into a vault.

Martin staggered under the impact of what he saw. The old labs with their small rooms and slate-top experiment tables had been removed. Instead Philips found himself in a hundred-foot-long room with no windows. Down the center was a row of huge glass cylinders filled with clear liquid.

“This is our most valuable and productive preparation,” said Michaels, patting the side of the first cylinder. “Now I know your first impression will be emotional. It was for all of us. But believe me, the rewards are worth the sacrifice.”

Martin slowly began to walk around the container. It was at least six feet high and three feet in diameter. Inside, submerged in what Martin later learned was cerebrospinal fluid, were the living remains of Katherine Collins. She floated in a sitting position with her arms suspended over her head. A respiration unit was functioning, indicating that she was alive. But her brain had been completely exposed. There was no skull. Most of the face was gone except for the eyes, which had been dissected free and covered with contact lenses. An endotracheal tube issued from her neck.

Her arms had also been carefully dissected to extract the ends of the sensory nerves. These nerve endings looped back like strands of a spider web to connect with electrodes buried within the brain.

Philips made a slow complete circle around the cylinder. An awful weakness spread over him and his legs threatened to give way.

“You probably know,” said Michaels, “that significant advances in computer science, like feedback, came from studying biological systems. It’s really what cybernetics is all about. Well, we’ve taken the natural step and gone to the human brain itself, not studying it like psychology, which thinks of it as a mysterious black box.” Suddenly, Philips remembered Michaels using the enigmatic term on the day he presented Martin with the computer program. Now he understood. “We’ve studied it like any other vastly complicated machine. And we’ve succeeded, beyond our dreams. We’ve discovered how the brain stores its information, how it accomplishes parallel processing of information rather than the inefficient serial processing of yesterday’s computers, and how the brain is organized in a functionally hierarchial system. Best of all, we’ve learned how to design and build a mechanical system that mirrors the brain and has these same functions. And it works, Martin! It works beyond your wildest imagination!”

Michaels had nudged Philips to continue down the row of cylinders, looking in at the exposed brains of the young women, all at different levels of vivisection. At the last cylinder Philips paused. The subject was in the earliest state of preparation. Philips recognized the remains of the face. It was Kristin Lindquist.

“Now, listen,” said Michaels. “I know it’s shocking when you first see it. But this scientific breakthrough is so big that it is inconceivable to contemplate the immediate benefits. In medicine alone, it will revolutionize every field. You’ve already seen what our very preliminary program will do with a skull X ray. Philips, I don’t want you to make any snap decisions, you understand?”

They’d finished the trip around the room, which was a marriage between a hospital and a computer installation. In the corner was what appeared to be a complicated lifesupport setup, like an intensive-care unit. Sitting in front of the monitors was a man in a long white coat. Michaels’ and Philips’ arrival had not disturbed his concentration.

Standing again in front of Katherine Collins, Philips found words for the first time: “What is going into this subject’s brain?” His voice was flat, unemotional.

“Those are sensory nerves,” said Michaels eagerly. “Since the brain is ironically insensitive to its own state, we’ve joined Katherine’s peripheral sensory nerves up to electrodes so that she can tell us which sections of her brain are functioning at any given moment. We’ve constructed a feedback system for the brain.”