Untitled Singularity Story
I wrote this story for a high school creative writing class in 2005. It was inspired primarily by a Scientific American article about the experiment described in the first scene, which had stuck in my head ever since I’d read it a year earlier.
June 25, 2004
Grasp. Release. Grasp. Release.
The audience at the science expo watched the large robotic hand in amazement, but the hand was not what amazed them. At the other end of the clump of wires protruding from the robot was a computer. This was not what amazed them.
The amazing thing was the chimp.
A small primate was staring intently at a dot on the computer screen, oblivious to the massive claw a few feet away. He watched the dot expand and contract in response to commands relayed from a metal disk at the crown of his head. The chimp controlled the computer with his thoughts. He was moving the hand.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” began Dr. Nestor, giving the chimp a treat for its performance. The audience could tell this man walking to center stage was a scientist. He wore glasses and a lab coat which concealed his wiry figure. He was bald except for a set of bristles which semicircled the back of his head, curved down at the ears and rounded his chin.
“If our friends simple mind can do something like this,” Nestor continued, “imagine what we can do! Driving cars with our minds, typing with no worry of carpal tunnel syndrome, replacing broken bodies...”
“When will this technology be available to humans?”
The doctor’s genial smile faded, and the sliding of his bifocals down his nose showed the fall of his spirits. He had dreaded this question and was regretting coming to the expo. After all, what good was this experiment, what good was he without greater things yet to come?
“I don’t know,” he finally replied. “I don’t know.”
February 1, 2005
Jeff Weaver slowed his car to a stop at the gate. He never understood why the small, discreet building needed a gate, much less the guard that had started letting him pass without question. Jeff had been visiting the research hospital for several months, but he wasn’t sure what kept him coming back. It certainly wasn’t the treatments; they didn’t seem like treatments at all. The nurse would tell him to visualize something while they studied his brain waves, and occasionally gave him a brief physical. However, today was different. Today, he would be fitted with a metal disk at the crown of his head.
* * * *
Some time later, Jeff laid unconscious on an operating table, his hands at his sides and his legs straight out. Nearby, an awkward looking machine mimicked his position. Its thick, angular legs were straighter than his. The torso was a set of motors collected around a CPU, the head a swiveling camera. The arms were nearly perfect duplicates of a human’s, though the fingers looked like wire hangers.
This unusual pair was monitored by a nurse named Dana Preston. She studied Jeff’s EKG. He would be awake soon, and they would see if the surgery had been a success. Intelligent as she was, Dana didn’t completely understand how this would work. Her mentor, Dr. Nestor, tended to forget people weren’t as brilliant as him, and skipped most explanation. When he returned to the room, she timidly asked what would happen next.
“See for yourself,” he answered, nodding to the patient. Jeff was stirring. He groaned drowsily, squinting at the fluorescent lights. “Mr. Weaver,” the doctor began, “would you please stand up for me?” Pulling an array of wires behind him, Jeff slowly got into a sitting position and pushed himself off the table. The nurse caught him under the arms as his legs lifelessly hit the floor.
“Doctor, his lower body has been paralyzed over a year! What were you thinking?”
“Shh. Look.” The robot stood erect next to Dr. Nestor. “Mr. Mason’s too drowsy to remember his disability, so his brain automatically sends the message. Watch. Take a few steps for us, Jeff.” The sounds of hydraulics and heavy footfalls echoed through the room. “That’s far enough. Now raise your right hand.” The android’s claw flew up as Jeff’s hand grazed Dana’s cheek. “Isn’t it beautiful, Preston? A resounding success! Perfect! And this is only the beginning.”
February 5th, 2005
It had been a few days since Jeff had the surgery, and he was making wonderful progress. His incisions were healing and he moved the android with ease, as long as he could see it. He was back at the apartment he shared with his wife, Lisa, where he was monitored eighteen hours a day by Dr. Nestor and nurse Preston. Nestor was ready for phase two, which he brought up while talking to his patient in the living room.
“Jeff, we would like to test something on you,” he said. “Are you up for it?”
“What are you testing?” Jeff asked with more curiosity than suspicion.
“Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed the android has a camera. We think it would allow you to control the droid without seeing it.”
“So, what, you need to hook up to the TV?”
“Not exactly. We’d like to transmit directly to your brain.”
“What?” said Lisa, who was listening from the kitchen. “Doctor, we agreed to this surgery under the impression that it would fix Jeff’s legs. How does this help with that?”
“Mrs. Weaver,” Dana chimed in, “please understand that your husband is the only person who has volunteered for the surgery. We have to do as many experiments--”
“Experiments? Like he’s a mouse in a maze? Just who do you think you are?”
“Lisa,” said Jeff calmly, “it’s okay. I’ll do it.”
“Wonderful. The equipment is already in your head. Brace yourself.”
Suddenly, Jeff was looking at himself from across the room. He took a deep breath and told the robot to go forward. Jeff watched in amazement as his vision changed. It was as though he had switched brains with the droid. Everyone silently observed Jeff’s face until the nurse spoke up. “Is it working?” In answer, the android left the room and returned with a glass of milk.
“Fascinating,” said Dr. Nestor, beaming. “You adapt so quickly. Let’s try aural.” After a clicking sound, Jeff’s ears filled with white noise. “Can you hear me?” came the doctor’s voice, sounding a bit distant.
“Yeah. It’s kind of distorted.”
“Just one more thing, Jeff. Do you remember our exercises, specifically when I had you imagine sounds? I want you to do that again. Think of a buzzer. Focus.”
A short buzz burst from the speakers of Dr. Nestor’s computer. It stopped abruptly when Jeff heard it. He could not believe this was happening. After a moment, he tried again. A less piercing tone sounded.
“What purpose could this possibly serve?” Lisa asked with indignation.
“It could be invaluable to people with damaged throats or nervous systems,” Dr. Nestor said, adding sarcastically, “But perhaps sparing your husband a few experiments is more important than thousands of sick people, hmm?”
Lisa fumed and looked for a similar reaction from Jeff. However, he was absorbed in the senses of the android, which had left hearing range. Lisa groaned and left the room.
February 14, 2005
Lisa woke on Valentine’s Day to the smell of coffee and maple syrup. She smiled, still half asleep. Lisa loved when Jeff brought her breakfast-in-bed. Her smile faded when she opened her eyes and saw the android holding a tray of food. It shifted the food to one hand and used the other to switch on Lisa’s clock radio.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Jeff’s voice whispered on the radio. “Happy Valentine’s.”
“Since when can you do that?”
“The talking? I’ve been practicing for a while. Now eat up, you’ll be late for work.”
“I don’t want to eat by myself. Can’t you come here?”
“You know I’m not supposed to disconnect from the computer.” Lisa sighed, climbed out of bed, and grabbed the tray. “Honey, the point of breakfast-in-bed is to--”
“The point of that surgery was to make you more mobile. But here you’ve sat for... how long? Two weeks? Some miracle cure.”
“Dana has been working on a mobile unit. It’s almost done.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” They sat quietly for a moment. “Are they coming today?”
“Yes, but they’re leaving when you get home so we can have a romantic evening.”
“What, here in the living room?”
Jeff opened his mouth to talk and found he had no response. Lisa ate her breakfast and left without another word. Half an hour later, the doctor and nurse arrived. Dr. Nestor had yet another experiment. Shortly after arriving, he displayed a robot vacuum that had been modified to include a camera, which Jeff remembered from the clinic. They used to have him picture it moving forward and, as Nestor revealed, recorded his brain activity. The computer was programmed to recognize this activity and translate it to a command for the vacuum.
“So I can move it just by imagining it?” Jeff asked when Nestor was done explaining.
“That’s what we need to find out,” said Nestor.
Dr. Nestor sat the vacuum on the floor and Jeff casually turned it on telepathically. He was so used to the android that this was easy. He watched the stingray-shaped piece of plastic make a few passes before Nestor activated the camera. The vacuum stopped.
“How can I visualize when there’s already something in my ‘mind’s eye’?” Jeff said.
“Easily. Just do it.”
Jeff eventually got the vacuum moving again. It required so much concentration that he didn’t notice Nestor preparing to activate the android’s camera. The vacuum came to a halt as Jeff ’s mind flooded with information from both sources. The scientist’s commands seemed to come from every direction at once. “Vacuum!” “Walk, now!” “Visualize...” “FOCUS!”
The scientists were gone when Lisa got home. As she entered the apartment, the first thing she noticed was Jeff sleeping in his wheelchair. The second thing she noticed was a bottle of strong pain relievers marked ‘FOR HEADACHES’. The third thing she noticed was the unusually clean floor.
February 27, 2005
Lisa Weaver was becoming increasingly disturbed. Dr. Nestor was constantly adding more to Jeff’s mental workload. Her husband spoke rarely, only occasionally mumbling nonsense that sounded like calculus and quantum physics and philosophy combined. He slept fitfully, even under the influence of pain medicine he took to soothe his powerful headaches. Strangely, sleep seemed to be the only time he moved his body; awake, he was nearly a vegetable. These problems are what made her so appalled when the nurse suggested a new possibility for fixing Jeff ’s legs.
“Instead of translating his brain waves with a computer,” Dana said, “we may be able to isolate part of his brain to do the job. With the commands translated into computer code, we could transmit directly from the brain to the robotic legs, eliminating the need for a remote processor.”
“Don’t you think you’re putting too much strain on him already?”
“To the contrary, it’s not enough.” Knowing Lisa would object, the nurse quickly continued, “Mrs. Weaver, thanks to the difficulty of our tests, you’re husband is using thirty-five percent of his brain. Most people only use ten. He’s evolving.”
“Thirty-five percent? Are you kidding me?” Lisa glanced at Jeff ’s empty eyes and soulless expression. He was pale and thin from malnutrition. “Look at him. He’s not digesting properly. He’s barely breathing. And listen.” The only sound in the room was a beeping heart-rate monitor. “His heart is slowing down.”
“Lisa, that’s ridiculous. The heart operates independently of the brain.”
“It’s a muscle, and muscles need oxygen. If he’s not breathing...” Lisa stopped. Her point was already being proven. Jeff had flat-lined. Dana ran to get a defibrillator from her car. Lisa bolted towards the computer to disconnect Jeff and free his mind, but Dr. Nestor, who had been listening with little interest until now, held her back.
“No, you fool,” he shouted at her. “His brain is still functioning. If you disconnect him, it will shut down and destroy any chance of saving him.”
“He’d rather die than live like this!”
“You will not destroy my life’s work,” Nestor said, choking on the last word. Metal tendrils had wrapped around his throat and drawn blood with their razor tips. The droid was still working. It was strangling Nestor.
“Let her go,” Jeff ’s electronic voice demanded from the bedroom.
Dana, who had rushed in with her equipment, was so astounded that she forgot what she was doing. She watched Nestor gasp for air, never losing his grip on Lisa. The nurse stood still and the room was mostly quiet until the droid’s claw loosened. Jeff was dead.
March 1, 2005
Jeff Weaver’s funeral was a solemn occasion. No one smiled even when a pleasant story was told in the eulogy. Lisa, understandably, cried the entire time. Dana Preston came and stood in back, heavy with guilt. Finally, near the end of the service, Jeff was honored for the military service which had taken his legs. Lisa knelt next to the coffin before it was closed but, even at such a close proximity, failed to notice the blinking light on a transmitter behind Jeff ’s ear.
Meanwhile at a far away army base, a receiver blinked in unison. It was affixed to a massive robot soldier which stood at attention. The general nearby handed a check to his companion and said gruffly, “I’d better not regret this.”
“You won’t,” the second man replied, rubbing puncture wounds on his neck.
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