“I feel better already,” Brian said — truthfully.
“Then stay that way,” Dr. Snaresbrook said as she entered. “This is going to be a stressful day whether you realize it or not. Five hours maximum — then you lie down. Understood?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.” Her smile softened the imperiousness of her command. “I’ll give you a few days to get into your work. I’ll need that time to move my equipment to the Megalobe infirmary. Since you won’t be coming to this hospital anymore we’ll do the machine sessions there. See if we can give you access to all those technical memories you are going to need. Now — take care of yourself.”
“I will, Doc — don’t worry.”
“Are you ready?” Major Wood asked as soon as she had gone.
“Just waiting for orders.”
“That’s the correct attitude. Do what I say and you’ll get there safely — and will stay safe. Sergeant.”
The soldier entered the room an instant after the sharp-barked command and handed the Major one of the two stubby, ugly automatic weapons he was carrying. Benicoff grabbed up Brian’s bag and computer and they all left together.
Although this trip lacked the showiness of the Marine transfer that had brought Brian to the hospital, everything still proceeded with professional efficiency. A squad of soldiers moved into place, surrounding them when they walked down the hall; others kept pace before and behind. The officers’ parking lot had been cleared of all vehicles — despite a lot of high-level protests — and a large transport copter now sat in the middle of it with its rotors turning. It lifted off as soon as they had all climbed in. Fast attack choppers circled them as they rose, getting altitude before they headed across the bay and over the sweep of streets and homes of San Diego. They followed the freeway west, then turned and went even higher to get over the mountains. It was a beautiful, sunny day with visibility apparently unlimited.
Away from the hospital at last, Brian felt elated and confident. He liked the view, first the craggy and bare mountains, then the parched colors of the desert beyond. They passed over the buildings and golf courses of Borrego Springs, then on to the desert. The slashed and desolate badlands drifted by below, then greenery appeared ahead. The squared-off area of low buildings and grassy plots grew larger as they dropped down toward it, settling easily onto the helipad. The attack copters dipped in one last protecting circle, then hurtled away — tracked automatically by the SAM radar. A soldier opened the copter’s door.
Brian climbed out with no qualms, no fear. He would never remember what had happened to him here, was confident that it would not happen in this place again. What he wanted to do most was to get to work.
“Want to see your quarters?” the Major asked. Brian shook his head.
“Later if you don’t mind. The lab first.”
“You’re the man. Your personal gear will be in your room. I’ll walk you about today so the troops can see you.”
“No ID needed?”
“Everyone else is going to be heavy with it. You don’t need it. All the security is designed with one end in mind — keeping you safe. I hope that you will get to know the men. They’re a good team. But right now it is more important that they know you. If you will just wait here for a minute I’ll be right back and we will get started.”
He moved quickly away toward the buildings. Ben pointed.
“That’s the lab building,” he said. “The big one with the gold-sputtered windows. Your own lab entrance is around the back, a special wing.”
“It looks great! You know — I really can’t wait to get my hands on more computer power, to debug the new systems described in the notes. I have already worked up some opening programs on the portable — but it simply isn’t adequate for the kind of debugging I need to do. I need much more speed than that old portable laptop has. And much more memory. I am using some extremely large knowledge bases — which must be maintained in memory. Without memory, there can be no knowledge. And without knowledge, there can be no intelligence — I should know!”
“Are you saying that intelligence is just memory?” Ben said. “I can’t believe that.”
“Well, something like that, but without the ‘just.’ As far as I’m concerned, you need two kinds of things for thought to proceed — and both are based on memory. I don’t care if it’s a man or machine. First you need your processes — the programs to do the actual work. And you need the stuff that those programs will work on — that’s your knowledge, your records of your experiences. And both the programs themselves and the knowledge they use must be embodied in memory.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Benicoff said. “But surely, you’d also need something else, beyond the purely mechanical. The me that is me must still be around even when I’m not using my memory.”
“What use would a me be if it doesn’t actually do anything?”
“Because without it, we’d just have a computer. Working, but not feeling. Speaking, without understanding. Surely thinking must involve more than the simple processing of memory. There must also be something to initiate the wanting and intending — and then there must be something to appreciate whatever is accomplished and then to want something more. You know, the central spirit-thing that seems to sit in the center of my head, that understands what things really mean, that’s aware of itself and of what it can do.”
Dolly is not the only superstitious person, Brian thought. “Spirit my eye! I don’t believe we need any such thing. A machine doesn’t need any magic force to make it do whatever it does. Because each present state is sufficient cause to carry it into its subsequent state. If there were that spirit inside your head, it would only be getting in your way. Minds are simply what brains do. The hard part is that, as good as technology is, we cannot make an exact duplicate of the human brain.”
“Why not? I thought that was exactly what you were doing.”
“Then you thought wrong. We only have to get parts that have similar functions, not exact copies.”
“But if you don’t duplicate all the details, it won’t think the same way, will it?”
“Not exactly — but why should that matter as long as it does the right sorts of things? My research is only to discover the general principles, the general patterns of function. Once the machine is able to learn the right sorts of things, it will fill in the small details itself.”
“It sounds awfully hard. I’m with you — and don’t envy your job.”
The Major returned, then led them toward the building. The guard at the door snapped to attention when they approached. But instead of staring directly ahead of him in the approved manner, he turned as they passed, watching Brian closely, remembering.
“I’ll take you inside,” Major Wood said. He handed Brian an identification bracelet. “But first — I would appreciate it if you would put this on and wear it all the time. It’s waterproof and pretty indestructible. I hope you won’t mind — but once I lock it on, it will have to be sawn off. It doesn’t unlock.”
Brian turned it over, saw that his name was engraved on it. “Any particular reason for this?”
“A big one. Squeeze it once and you will get me — twenty-four hours a day. But if you squeeze it for more than one second the alarms go off everywhere and all hell breaks loose. Can do?”
“Can do. Seal it on.”
Woody put it on Brian’s wrist and joined the open ends together; it closed with a metallic clack. “Give it a try,” he said, stepping back. “Be enthusiastic, a little push like that could happen accidentally. That’s it.” A rapid bleeping sounded from his own communicator; he thumbed it off. “That will do just fine. Now I’ll show you the new laboratory — and I hope that you are not claustrophobic.”