Immortality

Immortality

The north wall was a bank of dials under which lights winked and
stared. Linking the extremities of the computer a horseshoe of shelves,
laden with reagents and glass retorts, ran round the remaining three
walls. Beneath them jutted a bench, fitted with sinks and bunsens, and
upon which a green fluid in a conical flask heaved and bubbled. In the
centre of the laboratory, overhung by an intense surgical spotlight,
stood a polythene block the size of an operating table. Kindled deep
within its maw green any yellow fires leapt and streaked up its sides,
calling up kindred wraiths in the cupboard handles beneath the benches.
The spotlight was on but was focused onto an area a foot across in the
middle of the block, where lay an upturned evaporating basin.
Standing on either side and peering intently at it were two men. Both
were tall and lean, but, where one was pale and saturnine with a white
lab coat that did nothing to hide the academic stoop of his shoulders;
the other was tanned a ruddy brown, which matched his the colour of his
sports jacket and complemented his square torso. Suddenly, bringing his
long, acid stained fingers to rest on the evaporating basin, the man of
Science began to speak.
"This, my dear Williams, is the fruit of twenty years labour; the
first practical application of a technique that will revolutionise our
concept of life and death and make our current social milieu as
obsolete as the dinosaurs."
So saying he lifted the white dome of the basin and laced it carefully
to one side. Underneath was revealed the head of a mouse, severed at
the neck, and, in some peculiar way, fused into the block so that its
lower neck on the polythene were one. A look of bewilderment flickered
across Williams' bronzed face, but, before he could speak, his host
continued.
"This head is alive, albeit unconscious at the moment. By the infusion
of properly calculated amounts of synthetically produced hormones and
plasma into the brain I am able to control not only its life and death,
but, also, the degree of mental activity of which it is capable. By
these means I can keep it unconscious for years and then produce an
extremely sensitive state at the flick of a switch. In fact, with care,
there is no reason why this head should not live forever.
Disbelief, mingled with disgust began to replace the bewilderment on
Williams' face.
"But this", the monologue continued," merely provides the potential.
This technique is of no use unless these a means of utilising it; that
is of controlling the thought processes of the subject. The usual
methods of influencing the cerebral centres of intelligence are,
basically, various stimulations of the sense organs. This process is
prone to error, however. Although the sense organs of the head function
quite normally when it is conscious, external sensations are fed into
the brain directly from the computer via nerve endings in the neck.
This has the great advantage of making it possible to introduce into
the head sensations that it would normally be impossible to observe
twice in the same mouse. For example, if a mouse were to be burned
alive its reactions would be difficult to study and they could scarcely
be repeated. Using this method the pertinent stimuli that a mouse would
experience at five hundred degrees Celsius can be fed into the brain
without material damage. You don't have to take my word for it though;
I can easily give you a demonstration.
"You mean that you can make that thing live and think?", said
Williams, his disbelief sounding in his voice.
"My dear chap, haven't I just said so?" answered his companion. "I'll
just throw the switch and you shall see for yourself."
So saying he moved to the control panel of the computer and threw a
large dipole switch that crackled with blue sparks as it made contact.
In the polythenic depths of the table the fires erupted into waves of
coloured lightning that played below the surface in vivid jags and
sheets. Pinpointed in the spotlight, the empty eyes of the head
changed. Barely perceptibly the foetal light of intelligence flickered
in their depths. Momentarily it died again, only to rally and burgeon
until they were filled with cunning sentience. As though to dispel any
lingering doubts, the head blinked.
"The subject is now living and open to suggestion", said Jones,
suppressed excitement radiating from his stooped form. "By manipulating
these controls I can induce any sensation that I wish. I can, for
example, make the mouse believe that a particularly delectable morsel
of cheese is present in its mouth, and it will react
accordingly."
The strong, tapered fingers crooked like spiders' legs and spun a dial.
The jaws on the head twitched, and started to masticate slowly. At each
corner of the mouth a drop of saliva appeared, elongated and dribbled
to the table top, where they formed twin pools. Suddenly the lips drew
back over the tiny teeth, the eyes started from their sockets, and the
jaw dropped in a soundless scream.
"And that", said Jones, " is what happens if the cheese is suddenly
transmuted into white phosphorous in the stomach of the mouse. You will
observe that there has been no physical damage."
The head had, in fact , resumed its somnolent state, but Williams had
had enough.
"I'm sorry Jones old chap", he said, the protocol demanded of a guest
keeping him civil, "but I find your work repulsive and cruel and I wish
to see no further demonstration of it. How can you torture that poor,
mutilated creature, even if it is in the cause of Science?"
"My dear Williams, Jones replied, "I had no idea that you were so
squeamish about such tings. I should have thought that twenty years in
the outback of Australia would have cured you of the stupid
sentimentality that society imposes on us in our youth, but I can see
that some of the veneer remains unscratched. Nevertheless, if these
activities disturb you I have no wish to detain you further, so let us
adjourn to the library and you can tell me how fortune has treated you
since we left the orphanage. I am afraid that you will have to do most
of the talking as you have just seen how I have occupied myself."
While he had been delivering his riposte Jones had adjusted some dials
and replaced the dipole switch in its original position. The fires
subsided in the block. Pausing only to check that glassy unknowingness
had again returned to the eyes in the head, Jones covered it again with
the evaporating basin, extinguished the spotlight, and ushered Jones
from the room.
Williams, although committed to a life of isolation for much of his
time as a drover on an Australian cattle station, was a natural
raconteur. Plumped by an excellent meal, he was soon in full flow under
the stimulation of a vintage brandy. Disgust forgotten in an alcoholic
euphoria, the hours sped by until, at length, both men repaired to
their beds at least a little drunk.
Williams woke slowly, but aware that something had wakened him.
Somewhere, deep within his subconscious, an instinctive reaction was
triggered and fear loaded his consciousness. From beyond the blackness
that pressed against his face came the sound of distant voices. He felt
a small, tight knot form in his stomach and a thin, cold sheen form on
his face. Motionless, he waited for the voices to recede of approach.
They did neither, but remained tormentingly unintelligible; a barely
audible murmur.
Suddenly Williams' eyes were blasted by an intense white light, and, at
the same time the voices became very clear.
It was some moments before his eyes adjusted sufficiently to see the
fires that flickered beneath his chin, or he had become composed enough
to hear Jones say with his usual impassivity,
"&;#8230;. And there is no reason why, with care, this head should
not live forever."