"Let's begin," I decisively gave the command, not feeling an iota of this decisiveness in my mind.
Comrade Lebedev responded with a nod and began, like a conductor, to direct the upcoming process. His hands fluttered over the keyboard, entering command after command, while his eyes followed the brain wave harmonics, comparing them with the reference ones. Alexei Vladimirovich's face took on a sinister hue in the light of the holographic monitor. The green light sharpened his features, making them angular, as in avant-garde paintings. His eyes, hidden behind glasses, were not visible. Only two greenish glints in their place burned on the face of the colleague who derived satisfaction from the process of discovery.
Two figures, fixed and covered in wires, lay on stretchers. Their faces were hidden by neuro-connection helmets, whose cables, wriggling during operation due to parasitic neuro-polymer radiation (which they still couldn't shield), resembled the snakes of the mythical Medusa Gorgon. Even with the dim lighting, which became so only when the complex's quantum computer reached maximum power, accelerating the processors to their limits, the two people lying in the apparatus looked unhealthy. Burn spots blackened their bodies, taking on the contours of corrosion and making the people resemble damaged, rusty machines.
"Neuro-polymer radiation is normal. Brain activity, considering the damage, corresponds to the current state. The polymer has integrated perfectly, creating an additional system and integrating with the nerve tissues of the cortex. Response from polymer expanders is normal. The instruments are operating normally. Calibration is in progress," I habitually read the readings, deciphering the sinusoid graphs.
Katya and Sergey arched when the process entered its active phase. The restraining straps tightened under the pressure of convulsing muscles, and barely audible cries came from under the gags. Here is the price of morality! Either you act immorally, or you act correctly but inflict unnecessary suffering.
In one thing, she was right: I had played too much. Khariton had said so. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts doubly. It cost me nothing to edit the memories of two dear people. I could even transfer their consciousness into steel shells, abandoning their tormented flesh. I didn't care about their desires...
When they lay on my operating table, mangled by that explosion, I even managed to order the construction of two bodies. If it hadn't worked out, I would have honored their memory and given them eternal life in machine form. In my selfish desire to save loved ones against all odds, I almost crossed the line of humanism completely. Just one step, and I would have trampled the fundamental principle of humanity: free will.
What makes a person the crown of creation is not only the power of reason, capable of suppressing instincts, but also emotions and freedom of choice. It is within our power to decide how to act. "Collective 2.0" should unite humanity, not enslave it. In my pursuit of including everyone in it, creating a society where there would be no misunderstandings, I crossed the line of humanity. I became what Khariton sarcastically spoke about, asking fair questions: "How will we convince people to become part of the global network?" When did my desire to persuade turn into an order and coercion by force? I even surpassed Khariton's most radical thoughts - this is unworthy of a Soviet scientist!
"How my late friend would have laughed at me... Khariton, how could this happen?! If I hadn't asked you then, you would have stayed alive. Coincidences are not accidental, but merely the consequence of our actions. Rest in peace, friend, associate, and comrade. Your work will not be in vain..."
"Recipient brain signals deciphered by 80%! Start implant calibration?" the system message pulled me out of my thoughts. After re-checking the biorhythms and brain harmonics, I confirmed the start of calibration. The operation was conducted for this purpose.
First stage: Reading the overall biometrics of the organisms so that the system remembers the readings before calibration.
Second stage: The apparatus connects directly to the nervous system, sending signals to all nerve nodes. The goal is to get a response from the brain and decode its signals into a code suitable for programming.
Third stage: Direct calibration of the expander, which is supposed to replace the amputated parts of the brain.
The polymer expander itself was a small implant, developed by Comrade Zakharov with my assistance, as an alternative to "Thought" neuro-connectors. The device was adapted for military needs: it put the subject's body into "combat mode." The expander enhanced strength, reaction speed, and thought processes, but at the same time put the subject into a trance-like state. Personality was suppressed, replaced by an aggressive surrogate—the body became a puppet, controlled remotely.
Khariton was delighted with the prospects. "A completely fairy-tale country, filled with strange visions and intricate characters. A land of the strongest emotional surge and complete liberation. There you know everything and, at the same time, understand nothing. You don't worry, you don't fret... This is the gift they give you, soldier. And, of course, life extension. A life full of aggression and battles... poor thing..." he said during the first tests. These horizons had gone too much to his head.
I, on the other hand, refined the "Spark" expander, creating "Voshod." Initially, I planned to use the implant to edit Katya and Sergey's memories, saving copies of their personalities... But Comrade Filatova... made me think...
The notorious freedom of choice, which everyone forgets. I had to talk to... the young people, explaining each option. The conversation turned out to be quite difficult, especially considering that before that, I had a rather expressive conversation with Comrade Muravyova. A black eye covering half my face does not contribute to the persuasiveness of the negotiating party... Sergey and Katya decided to try calibrating the implants, which worked differently than originally expected.
Although Katerina hesitated, leaning towards full body prosthetics. For her, a former ballerina, it was even harder than for her husband, who had uncontrollable fits of rage and breathing problems due to his brain injuries. Katya's injuries disrupted her perfect coordination of movements, mixing up the left and right sides of her body. Numerous fractures only worsened the picture...
All reflections flew by in the background. Too personal. The cold mind of a scientist failed and is bleeding along with people dear to me. If I still managed to mislead others, I can't lie to myself.
"Setup package generated. Apply yes/no?" the system again pulled me out of my thoughts. Without hesitation, I press "yes," engaging in the process. Comrade Lebedev did a brilliant job, literally creating a neural network intelligence for this task. I had to install the new firmware in the implants.
"Installation. Updating application package... Error! Establishing connection with expanders via emergency protocol! Error! Insufficient computational power to process incoming data packet!"
"Alexei Vladimirovich!" I say, hastily trying to stop the operation, ordering the lab assistants at the same time. "Disconnect the patients physically from the device!"
"I don't understand anything, Dmitry Sergeevich! The quantum computer's power is enough to decrypt the echo of infinite quantifiable multivariance! Compared to that, brain signals are like two times two is four for it!" the colleague mumbled worriedly in response, helping me interrupt the process through software means.
Our efforts in this area were fruitless, and the program continued its work. The lab assistants, rushing in a disorganized crowd, both living and mechanical, didn't have time to remove the helmets before the process went haywire...
I could almost physically see how the colossal packet, generated by the malfunctioning program, went through the wires, bypassing the skull barrier, directly into Katya's and Sergey's brains, which should have led to sensory overload at the very least! But to my surprise, not only was the packet processed, but they also sent a response!
The lighting went out completely. The cooling systems howled. The polymer coolant, capable of freezing a person into an ice block in a couple of seconds, boiled in an instant. Heat shimmered from the passive cooling radiators, drawing heat from the computational block heated to several hundred degrees.
The mechanical assistants froze, losing the signal from the control module, whose resources were engaged by the main computer of the entire "Neptune" complex. The emergency lighting of chemical lamps flickered.
"Attention! Main computational core overheating! Emergency heat removal circuit activated!"
"Alexei!" I shout at the top of my voice, jumping from my workstation.
While the lab assistants tried to disconnect all neuro-connectors to remove the helmets, I decided to physically reboot the computer, over whose "body" the laboratory was built.
"Increase in seawater temperature by two degrees recorded!" the complex's computer informed again.
I didn't manage to reach the toggle switch in a few moments. The lighting returned to normal mode, while the cooling systems quieted down. Only the radiators continued to steam.
The screens, which had gone dark a second earlier, lit up again...
"It can't be!" Comrade Lebedev exclaimed.
If I weren't a communist and an academician, I would have invoked the devil. The screen displayed an informational message about the completion of fluctuation processing and their decryption. How did the "Future Radio" decryption process start? There, although complex, it's an integral equation! How could it overload a computational machine capable of calculating the trajectories of all celestial objects around the planet?
This time, it wasn't text being transmitted, but a video with sound, broadcast on all laboratory monitors. The video was unusually clear and high-quality, and at the same time clearly fragmented.
Mars, in all its desert splendor. Ruins in the sand, a glance at which cut the eye with their alienness to humans. Rows of cylinders resembling cryo-pods. Some object, clearly man-made, in orbit around a blue gas giant. A whole fleet of spaceships in void shipyards, very similar to our projects. Many strange creatures and images. Bone lizards, bird-like humanoids, and almost human-like ones...
The images swirled like light in a kaleidoscope, mixing and intertwining. It was as if we were viewing memories...
"...Plutonium call sign... serial number... repeating... answers... trap for everyone..." Sergey shouted along with the recording, almost tearing the restraining straps. Barely contained rage turned the visible part of his face into a snarl.
"...Blesna call sign... time... they are coming!" Katya sobbed, trembling as if she were in the Arctic without clothes. A mask of horror and determination was frozen on her face.
The image on the monitors went dark. Plutonium and Blesna went limp on the stretchers, becoming Sergey and Katya again.
I quickly approached them, checking their pulse and pupil reaction to light. Just fainting... That's good!
"To 'Pavlov'. Under observation. Report every hour. When they regain consciousness, administer an IV drip with glucose and Ringer's Lactate solution," I gave instructions to the bustling lab assistants, who were only getting in the way with their fussiness.
"Incredible!" Lebedev stammered in shock, reading the instrument readings. "The signal was received from a hundred years in the future and beyond! The connection through the emergency port somehow activated the analysis protocol! But such an effect shouldn't happen! The protection, both software and hardware, should have worked. But it... was inactive! Unless..."
The academician peered intently at the lines of system messages, checking the program code. The more he read the data, the more disjointed and thoughtful his speech became, before he said relatively clearly:
"...Something amplified the signal. Some kind of superconductor... Wait! Someone used the computer for forecasting, just yesterday, gaining access to the program, bypassing the protection! Outrageous!"
The comrade's eyes shone with an unhealthy enthusiasm and anger simultaneously. His lab coat billowed like a revolutionary banner. His glasses had slipped and were askew.
"Who had access?" I asked, forcing my voice to sound confident.
"Only the operators and the management council of the Enterprise!" Comrade Kurochkina, the senior researcher responsible for order in this laboratory, paled. "And administrative rights – only for council members, with mandatory confirmation through gamma-connector protection protocols… Just like everything categorized as 'top secret' at the Enterprise, and not placed in a thermal safe! It was by your order that the security protocols were updated after one of them was stolen…"
Everything was correct. After the disappearance of one of the safes, which "Argentum" had returned, security measures had been changed. Kurochkina continued to babble something until my hearing picked out the main point:
"...the technicians only performed maintenance yesterday!"
"Stop," I interrupted the stream of verbosity. "What technicians?"
I turned my head to Alexei Vladimirovich, looking at him demandingly.
"Comrade Lebedev, did you give orders for maintenance yesterday?"
"Impossible. Neither I nor Comrade Privalov authorized any work!"
That was true. Comrade Privalov, head of the Academy of Consequences, had specifically stopped all experiments on quantum entanglement, for which the quantum computer was mainly used, to accommodate us. No experiments had been conducted in this laboratory for two days. Consequently, someone had decided to take advantage of the moment. A good technician, a programmer, but not familiar with quantum mechanics and not knowing the full essence of the processes. It was impossible to learn anything specific. We only picked up white noise, in which only fragments were understandable.
The last question remained: an undiscovered saboteur or another initiative of the powers that be?
The enterprise's security, alerted by the alarm, and the employees of the "Sh" department could not find any traces of the intruders. The unknown individuals had destroyed not only fingerprints but also sweat and grease marks. The surveillance camera footage was also useless: the video surveillance system in the central building had been rebooted in advance.
The breach in the Academy of Consequences' security lasted about four hours and was discovered only by chance. Even the traces in the machine's work log would have disappeared, lost in the data streams of other experiments, if not for the personal presence of Academician Lebedev. If a backup neuro-connection port had not been initiated, he would not have known where to look.
The only thing reliably established after several days of investigation was the reason for the superconductivity of the neuropolymer, which had become an amplifying antenna for the machine. Microscopic inclusions of an alloy unknown to Soviet science, no larger than 100-200 nanometers, were found in its composition. Spectral analysis revealed traces of a metallic substance absent from the periodic table.
The same inclusions were found in the excretions of agents "Blesna" and "Plutonium." They were eliminated from the body naturally.
The incident had a positive effect on the operatives of "Argentum." The implants, properly tuned, improved the emotional state of the Nechaev couple. To all questions about what had happened, they replied that they remembered nothing.
Later, Zinaida Muravyova noted in a report a meeting between Sechenov and the agents, which could not be documented. As the operatives themselves later reported, Comrade Sechenov had questioned them about their attending physician, Comrade Filatova, regarding whom an investigation had been initiated…
TER-A1, also known popularly as "Tereshkova," bearing the name Vika, carefully took another mug of tea in a chased holder, polished so brightly that the coat of arms of the Soviet Union practically blinded with gilding, from the tray, placed it on the table, and took away the emptied one. A more emotional electronic brain and advanced behavioral algorithms made robots like her almost alive, unlike those blockheads VOV-A6. Her program simply dictated her to be alive, sensitive, and empathetic for better interaction with people, but even it sometimes led to mishaps. It was comical to watch a robot, incapable of experiencing negative emotions due to programming limitations, "get angry" or "experience horror."
"Food is served!" Vika chirped, attracting the attention of her charge.
Robots like her served not only as guides, social workers, or nannies but also became secretaries to all the leaders of the Enterprise, and then the Party. Party leaders valued this model for its diligence and obedience. Although live secretaries had their advantages, the "Tereshkova" units masterfully relieved their charges, fulfilling their purpose with honor. It was not surprising that one of the robots of this model replaced almost all the live staff in Dmitry Sergeevich's reception. True, sometimes it led to curiosities…
"Are there any important events for today?" asked the Wizard, taking another kurabye from the tray, thoughtfully reviewing reports on the computer screen. As much as he wanted to, current affairs demanded attention. Especially, as it turned out, personnel matters.
"Absolutely, absolutely not! You yourself, by your behavior, cleared the schedule for several days!" the robot enthusiastically declared, gesturing with its free hand. "Only a press conference on Wednesday, where you will speak about the greatness of our Enterprise!"
"Alright, alright…" the academic muttered, frowning. There had been nothing good in sight in recent days. The report complaining about Comrade Filatova was the cherry on top. As soon as he highlighted the document, an entire branch of related files unfolded before him – not one, not even a dozen complaints.
"What came over her? She was so happy lately. As Mikhail said, she and Comrade Petrov had 'gardens of love blooming.' She especially shone after testing the new polymer cosmetics. Even scientists are not immune to earthly desires. Women have always remained women. They want to be beautiful. Her productivity increased by 25% after the cosmetics smoothed out her wrinkles! Maybe…?" Her words reached me! They sounded too emotional! No… She is an intelligent person. And a doctor. I need to talk to her! Later…"
"Should I cancel the 'do not disturb' mode? It's been activated for over a week, and my program dictates that I inform you about it!" Vika suddenly interjected.
"Yes, yes, turn it off!" Sechenov hastily waved his hand, distracted. But his innate meticulousness made him clarify, "Did I miss anything important?"
The robot twitched as its processor momentarily froze from indignation. Mimicking a sigh, she emotionally exclaimed:
"You're not listening to me! My heart is broken! As I said, nothing significant happened! Except… persistent calls are coming from that laboratory you told me to keep quiet about!"
"From that laboratory?" the Wizard frowned. Khariton died there… Then "Tereshkova" staged a whole tragicomedy…
"Yes!" the robot stamped her foot. "The calls started when you, our beacon, were operating on those agents! You don't take care of yourself at all! You kicked poor Larisa out, and stayed late yourself after midnight!.."
Sechenov let the chatter go in one ear and out the other. The machine could chatter for hours, especially if there were several of them in the room. The academic scrolled through notifications on the gamma-connector, which filtered the incoming correspondence, which had grown with the spread of "Shchebetarei." Due to recent events, busy with investigations and checking the condition of the patients, he had no extra time to sort through his personal mail…
"Damn it!" Dmitry Sergeevich jumped up, knocking over his tea. The workers flinched, and the robot froze in astonishment. Following the fleeing academic with her gaze, the mechanical assistant said:
"And I have to clean this up! They don't appreciate my delicate nature…"
The Wizard burst into the laboratory, running to the tank with the aggressive polymer that had killed his friend. The resting mass suddenly began to boil, for a moment taking on the semblance of a human figure with the outlines of Academician Zakharov.
"Khariton?!" gasped the out-of-breath Sechenov.
"GURGLE," confirmed the mass. "GURGLE-GURGLE?!"
No words were needed. The polymer prisoner clearly expressed his displeasure at being ignored for so long…