Hope - Levy, Marc (web ebook reader .TXT) 📗

just two weeks, the headset had allowed them to replicate 60 percent of the monkey’s brain connections, and the data they were collating grew at a dizzying pace.

Presented with these incredible results, Flinch decided to present the Neurolink project to the ethics committee. If the monkey showed no behavioral issues in the next twelve months, they would secure authorization to try the headset out on a human subject the following year.

When he announced the news, the energy between Luke and Josh was palpable. They sensed each other’s excitement without even exchanging a glance.

The next day, Luke spent the night printing a second headset, perfectly fitted to Josh’s skull.

As soon as it was operational, Josh began using it, and every night they experimented repeatedly as soon as the last team member had left the building.

10

One June evening, Josh had the idea of hooking the server terminal up to a webcam. Luke went to fetch the mic camera from the Center’s stockroom, and a few hours later, they had managed to open up a gateway in the Neurolink program, hoping they might find a way of interacting with it.

Based on their estimates, the many sessions completed since they had started using the new headset had allowed them to harvest enough of Josh’s memory to now try accessing its content. In other words, saving a huge amount of data was useless, unless they could find a way of viewing it.

Luke nicknamed this process “Restore,” a code name that Josh found as pretentious as it was ridiculous.

Once they’d checked the connections, Josh set himself up in front of the terminal and spoke to Neurolink for the very first time.

“Hello.” His voice trembled as he gazed directly into the camera.

A moment later, the word “Hello” flashed up on the screen.

“Do you think it’s replying to me, or just copying my words?”

“No clue.” Luke shrugged.

Neurolink wrote:

[My words = My words.]

“What is it doing?”

“No clue,” Luke said again.

“Take the headset off me.”

“No, that would disconnect you from the server.”

“Maybe, but I want to know if it’s coming from the computer, or if it’s simply a transcription of my own voice.”

“I doubt the computer can think for itself,” Luke snorted.

Josh unclipped the headset’s chin strap, and Luke rushed to take it off him.

“Jesus, be careful! There are thousands of connections; it’s super fragile. Let me.”

Luke placed the headset down in its cradle as gently as he could and sat back down on the stool. He looked as nervous as Josh felt. Both of them hoped that this experiment would mark a turning point in their research, an incredible milestone, as Flinch would probably have put it, had he been aware of what was going on in one of his labs. But there was no way he would ever find out. The two accomplices had blocked off a part of the server so that they alone had access to it.

“What now?” asked Luke.

“Do what I’m doing. Hold your breath.”

Josh turned to the camera and spoke as calmly as he could.

“Can you hear me?”

Loud and clear.

Josh watched, his face frozen in concentration as the screen remained blank. And then a strange equation popped up.

[1 + 1 = 1]

“Well, that’s wrong,” Josh said.

[1 + 1 = 1]

“In what context?”

[1 + 2 = 2]

“Still wrong! One plus two makes three!”

[1 + 2 + 3 = 3]

“What do these calculations mean?”

“Maybe Neurolink is testing out its own math ability? This is its first time communicating. It’s still just a baby.” Luke shrugged.

The computer erased the calculations before bringing up a new message:

[1 = Josh]

“Maybe it’s trying to tell you it thinks you’re unique,” Luke snickered.

[False.]

“You’re replying to Luke?” Josh asked.

[You’re replying to Luke.]

Josh stared at the screen, perplexed. Neurolink had copied out his question, minus the question mark. It could just have been a basic punctuation error. Unless the program had done it on purpose. Unless it had wanted to turn the question into a statement. An idea crept into Josh’s mind, and he surprised himself, hesitating before he spoke.

“Who are you?”

The screen replied:

[Who are you?]

This time, the two questions were completely identical.

“So either it chooses to make no sense, or it just repeats your words back to you,” Luke sighed. “These aren’t exactly thrilling results. You should have listened to me. You should have kept the headset on.”

[2 = Hope]

“You know Hope?” gasped Josh.

[1 + 2 = 2]

“I don’t get it.”

[3 = Luke] . . . [1 + 2 + 3 = 3]

“Define four . . .”

[Loud and clear.]

Josh considered what Neurolink had just told them.

“Are you saying my dad’s four?”

[True.]

Josh and Luke exchanged shell-shocked looks, overwhelmed by the head-spinning excitement of researchers making a staggering discovery without yet knowing how it might be of use.

“How did you decide to assign these numbers?” Josh asked.

[How did you decide to assign these numbers?]

“What number are you?”

[1]

Josh stared into the camera, trying his hardest to grasp what Neurolink was attempting to tell him.

Suddenly, everything that Luke had only ever imagined in his wildest dreams, the thing that had pushed him to take so many risks, to spend so many nights in the lab, the reason that had driven him to giving up everything he had ever loved and enjoyed, the idea that had spurred him into living in his friend’s long shadow, all that had ever frustrated and inspired him in equal measures, was made real when Neurolink replied:

[I am you, Josh.]

The equations displayed by the computer suddenly made sense to the two friends. Each number was code for a person, weighted based on the importance Josh placed on them.

Josh + Josh always equaled Josh, whereas Josh and Hope made two distinct entities. More mind-blowing yet was the scope of the interaction that had just taken place. This was no artificial intelligence contained on the Neurolink servers. Josh had been communicating with himself, in some small corner of his consciousness.

The screen turned blank again.

“Prove it!” Josh shouted.

Neurolink remained silent for a few seconds, and suddenly, the screen lit up.

The front wheel of a