Pulling The Dragon's Tail (13 page)

“Yes.”

So far this feels like an old twentieth
century B movie
, he mused to himself.
All that’s missing is
the watch to hold in front of her face

Glancing at the script for guidance, he asked,
“Campbell, are you comfortable?

“Yes.”

“Campbell, your brain is hooked up to a sensory
system that registers your unconscious intentions. Our sensors
indicate you have guided your unconscious mind to the threshold of
the nanochip in the hippocampus. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Campbell, you had programmed the virtual
reality program to give you an increasing sense of wonder and joy
the closer you got to the site of the nanochip. Are you currently
experiencing that state of euphoria?”

“Yes.”

“Campbell, if your unconscious intentions wander
away from the hippocampus region, those sensations will decrease
proportionally. All cues to be followed will be preceded by saying
your name. Your next goal is to guide your full awareness to the
cells that are attached to the nanochip. Campbell, do you
understand?”

After a longer pause, she answered, “Yes.”

“Campbell, if you are feeling uncomfortable for
any reason and wish to pause, you will indicate this by raising
your left hand. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Campbell, when you are inside the nanochip, you
will indicate this by raising your right hand. Do you
understand?”

“Yes.”

Nate then gave her the last instruction for this
first phase. “Campbell, proceed to guide your awareness to the
cells attached to the nanochip.”

She took an unusually large breath before a calm
even breathing pattern once more emerged. All Nate could do was
wait while Campbell was doing the difficult work. Somehow in this
mysterious state of deep hypnosis, her mind was converting her
unconscious intentions into real physical activity. Hopefully the
neurons attached to the nanochip would allow her to access the
imbedded circuit’s contents
. It was, after all, what Dr.
Hilliard had planned
, reasoned Nate,
so everything should go
smoothly
.

Suddenly her right arm began to move. Slowly it
lifted into the air, her elbow still resting on the couch. Movement
halted when it reached an angle perpendicular to her body.

“Yes! She’s in!” exclaimed Nate, re-reading the
set of instructions for phase two.

“Skip, please note a new development. There has
been an increase in the sympathetic nervous system. Cortisol levels
are rising. Onset occurred immediately upon her accessing the
neuron’s attached to the nanochip.”

A worried look crossed his face. “What could
that mean, Dugan? Sort through all the possibilities
.” We’re not
in a hurry
, he told himself.
Let’s be cautious

Dugan sorted through hundreds of databases,
performing calculations at blazing speed. Exploring all options was
one of the best features that artificial intelligence had given to
the human community.

In a few moments, Dugan responded. “Three main
possibilities exist that rise to the level of fifty percent
threshold. One, the combination of sympathetic and parasympathetic
activity indicates she is simply experiencing the rewards she had
preset upon arriving at her mental destination.”

Perhaps she doesn’t want to leave her state
of bliss
, he thought.

“Secondly, she may be fatigued from the hard
mental work. Therefore, more typical stress-related chemicals are
being created.”

“And the third reason for the stress reaction?”
Nate was growing impatient at the methodical aspect of Dugan’s
responses. This was when anxiety could be an asset.

“She may be experiencing some sort of agitation
pertaining to the nanochip.”

“Agitation? Campbell, do you want to pause?”

“No,” was the immediate response.

“Campbell, are you feeling fatigued?”

“No.”

“Well…she’s probably just reluctant to leave her
state of bliss,” he mused.

“You have not ruled out possibility number
three,” reminded Dugan.

“What could be upsetting her or the brain’s
biochemicals?” Nate wondered. “I mean she’s calm and relaxed. She
says she isn’t tired. So what’s causing the agitation? Maybe the
hypothalamus or the amygdala is experiencing an overload of some
sort.”

I feel stuck. Do I proceed? Will that
present any danger to her? We’ve come so far. Do I trust her when
she says all is well? Even if something is over-excited what would
be the real danger in continuing into the nanochip?

Dugan observed, “There is no known data to
support proceeding on or ending this hypnosis session. However, the
increased interaction between her brain and the nanochip may prove
to be problematic.”

Nate ignored Dugan’s cautious assessment. “The
chip’s boundaries have been breached. It’s about to be accessed and
it’s probably turning on. I’ll bet that her brain is simply
responding normally to what is in reality an abnormal situation:
having a foreign body in the brain. That adequately explains her
physiological agitation.” He felt relieved and ready to resume his
conversation with Campbell.

His voice was upbeat and confident. “Campbell,
let your attention focus onto the nanochip. Allow your mind to
fully access it.”

Her breathing became noticeably labored as Dugan
observed, “Blood pressure is spiking upward.”

Nate gazed at her face. Her eyelids twitched.
“Campbell, are you okay?”

“No.” Her response was thin and a bit
wavering.

“Dugan, we’re going to have to stop this and get
her out of trance.” Frantically he searched through the papers for
the last phase of instructions.
Father Abraham, help me
, he
pleaded silently. Then realizing he was not the only one in need,
And please keep Campbell safe.

Her breathing became even heavier. Her right
hand fell limply by her side. Sweat trickled down her face.

Dugan gave the latest report. “Her heart rate
has climbed to 149 beats per minute.”

“It’s like she running a marathon!” His mind
raced for what to do next. He cursed himself for proceeding despite
the warning from Dugan. “It seems like she’s not able to break the
connection,” he told Dugan. “Any ideas?”

But all Dugan said was, “The bar graph indicates
her full attention remains at the site of the nano chip. She is not
progressing on leaving the trance state.”

“It’s like she’s stuck in a loop,” said Nate,
frustration rising
. How to get her out? It makes sense to
disconnect gradually. The only other option is to literally pull
the plug.
He resisted the impulse to pull off the wires
attached to her head.

Suddenly Campbell sat straight up. Her eyes flew
open. “Grandpa!”

Then a distinctive voice from Nate’s past spoke.
It had an unmistakable West Virginia drawl with just a hint of
raspiness mixed in. Its perfect cadence and impeccable
pronunciation had always left Nate hanging on every smoothly spoken
word.

“Skip!” The voice throbbed between Nate’s
temples, pounding into his brain. “Your connection with Campbell is
fatally flawed. Bring her out of trance immediately.”

The pounding in his brain grew louder. “Dr.
Hilliard! What do you mean?” Was Nate thinking those words or
saying them out loud? What was real? Was this psychosis? How could
he be hearing a dead man talk to him?

The room became very warm. He grabbed for a
chair and sat down. The roar in his ear grew louder, as if he was
in the middle of a tornado. “Dugan! Shut off Campbell’s connection
now!” The last word echoed in his eardrum, now, Now, NOW!

A year has passed since the last reunion with my
loathsome “pals.” A year—what is that if I’m going to live
for…centuries. But is it okay in God’s book to live as long as
Methuselah?

It was difficult enough to attend last year’s
reunion. It just seems that I have less and less in common with
them. And bless his soul, it seems that good old Mitchell Hilliard
disappeared from the face of the Earth. Guess he couldn’t hide his
misdeeds from the authorities forever. The rumor is he killed
himself along with his wife as UN Security was closing in. (Finally
a good use for UN Security). At least Hilliard can’t organize any
more reunions. Thank God for that. But I suppose Marisol will be
pestering me to go to one.

Why can’t they just accept my religious
conversion? They wouldn’t even buy my reasons for skipping out on
the last two reunions because I had church responsibilities. Hey,
people do change and move on while others stay stuck! And with the
Lord’s help I feel like I’m finally moving on. Keith Skyler, my
only true friend from the Experiment, helped me a lot with turning
my life around. Maybe I should look him up when I get back. I think
he said he’s starting some big religious center in central
Georgia.

Maybe I do miss the get-togethers a bit. It’s
August here in Taiwan and the middle of typhoon season. But I’m
thinking of moving back to the US since I’ve learned so much about
hydroponic farming. Kansas and Nebraska are offering incentives for
agribusiness. Plus, the wide open spaces mean I don’t have too many
people around to bother me. Despite the rumors that the US could
break up into region-states, it’s still more stable than the rest
of the world.

So, good riddance to my fellow freaks. Yeah,
talk about freaks. You give people a few years and you don’t even
know them. I just had surgery two months ago to alter my face and
I’m still trying to get used to it. Take Talashia, for example. She
comes marching in last year with her latest interest:
transhumanism. She loudly proclaimed how she wants to morph
robotics into her body. Her first step, if she decides to go
through with it, is to remove her breasts because they’re
superfluous. I can’t believe it! How vulgar! Now keep in mind that
I’m no breast man, but it’s still gross. Of course, it was no
better listening to Damien brag about his multi-billion euro
corporations.

I thought Skip sounded depressed. Of course, we
could all guess why but as usual he didn’t want to talk about it. I
can’t complain too much when all the women still look voluptuous.
And of course, the men are holding their own, too. William, what an
Adonis he is! Of course, I was and am the most handsome of the lot.
The Lord’s blessed me with good genes and the fortitude to work out
regularly.

I guess it was good to see Maddy again. I was
glad to see that she’s gotten over our break up and moved on. Those
three years together were good, but we could never have made it
last long term. You know, two different worlds.

I recall Margaret piping up about the new fast
growing religion of the Church of Abraham. She went on and on with
the drivel about how aliens visited Abraham and how we’re to be all
peace loving and never hurt anyone. Made me want to puke!

Then the talk turned to the End-Date (while Skip
was out of the room). Everyone seemed to offer their opinions about
the problems with why the world hasn’t been able to unite and fight
it. Who wants to sacrifice their comfortable lifestyle for a damned
prediction? Damien did make a good point about whether we’d still
want our semi-immortality if the world was put in a deep freeze
like the End-Date predicts. I couldn’t help myself and told them
more about my conversion to Christianity. But, the maddening thing
was that no one seemed to get it. No one seemed to understand how
the world is in the Devil’s hands and we’re all sinners. And they
really didn’t like my point that the End-Date was a result of God’s
punishment. Keith didn’t even come to my defense.

Believe it or not, Damien saved me from
exploding by challenging me to our ritual of arm-wrestling. So
there I was doing the battle for manhood and for God on a picnic
table down by the stream that runs by the cabin. Naturally, I
retained the arm wrestling championship.

Of course, Hilliard interrupted our fun little
ritual, and then it was another tongue lashing from the man
responsible for this mess. Why did I ever sign up for this?

Browning Watts, August 18, 2032

Campbell Devereaux took another look at the
dilapidated structure. Wooden walls, tinged an ugly gray from
decades of struggle against the heat and cold, stared back at her.
A few vestiges of green paint hung around the massive wooden front
door. An open air porch ran the length of the cabin. Mountain
spruce and aspen trees brushed up around the cabin. “I can’t
believe how much it’s deteriorated,” she muttered, hands on her
hips.

She turned around and saw Nate gazing
heavenward, his arms stretched outward. “Lotta good that’ll do ya.
Father Abraham won’t help us figure out why Grandpa led us here to
this piece of crap.” She turned on her heels and marched down to
the cold mountain lake twenty meters away.

Nate shot a glance over at her. “You solve it
your way; I’ll do it my way. I can’t believe you get offended by a
little prayer.”

As logical as Campbell tried to be, she
struggled to trust her intuition. Certain that she had heard her
grandfather speak to her via the implanted memory chip, they had
headed west. Both of them were weary from the long trek across
country, weary from the long hours, weary from their bickering. He
drives too slowly; she doesn’t understand squat about
computer-controlled vehicles. He snores; she takes forever to wash
her hair. He fantasizes about doing something about the End-Date;
she doesn’t know anything about the outdoors. He believes in a
super technological deity that’s sure to not exist; she’d be so
much better off if only she’d allow Father Abraham to guide her
life. About the only thing they agreed on was to get to the
cabin.