“This one regressed to a literacy of 12 by the age of 80.”
“And she finally developed a 80% understanding of computer programming at 40.”
…
“Jenson, are you going to complete the report today like you promised?” Sally poked her head through the office door as she walked by. Jenson's dirty blonde hair stuck up as he unconsciously rubbed his hands through it, while alternating his attention between the computer screen and the person sitting in the other room. Without turning around Jenson said, “This device isn't offering the data in my preferred format.”
Sally considered whether any of her other tasks as head of St. Michael's Nutritional and Physical Health was as time-sensitive as finishing Jenson's project. She walked into the room and sat in a vacant chair just behind his field of view.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Tapping sporadically at his mouse, Jenson said, “You read my proposal. The device is supposed to measure the physical health of the subject, their basic physical fitness, nutrition, muscle mass, heart health, and convert each characteristic into a score.”
“With that information we could offer targeted solutions. A revolutionary project,” said Sally. She looked through the glass into the neighboring room. Their human guinea pig sat shivering in the cool, recycled air, laced with wires.
“He doesn't look comfortable,” she said softly.
“What's that? Oh, I suppose not,” said Jenson, briefly glancing up from the computer. “Think about how comfortable he will be if this works. My naked eye can see that he has at least twenty pounds of flab.”
“I've given you months. Today's delivery day. What is the problem?”
With a sudden finality Jenson lightly slapped the edges of his desk, pushing himself away from it. Rubbing his eyes under his glasses he said, “There was an enormous amount of unnecessary bureaucratic paperwork. Not from you. I know how much you did to cut through it, like a surgical knife through a patient's sternum. But it wasn't until two days ago I was able to secure my first volunteer. The data seemed troubled yesterday. When I asked her to return today she balked. I had to rush through more permissions to bring in patient two.”
Sally watched Jenson shifting impatiently in his chair. She wasn't sure why the seats were so uncomfortable. Was it to encourage everyone to walk around, or did the purchaser believe discomfort improved effort. “Why didn't they return? I met Chloe the other day. She seemed eager for the procedure. Are we paying enough? I thought we offered twenty dollars an hour, plus a free reading from the test.”
Jenson tapped a hand against the arm rest. “The procedure is one hundred percent safe, as innocuous as a tetanus vaccine. But the installation is intensive, invasive, and incredibly painful.”
“He looks fine,” Sally said, looking into the patient's room again.
“It's almost comfortable once it's established. Until it needs to be removed. Which is why I want to understand what is going wrong today.”
“Can I check the data?”
“Frank, I think you need to see this.”
“What is it, Naomi?”
“I'm observing two people approaching.”
“Watch them closely.
Jenson swiveled out of the way, offering the screen to Sally's searching eyes. He clicked through it, offering the necessary commentary. “The sensors are reporting too much irrelevant data, and not enough of the necessary numbers.”
Sally took the mouse and started scrolling. This doesn't make any sense, she thought, it's ...
“Should I warn her?”
“Do it.”
The lights flickered, Sally jumped, nearly falling over.
“What was that?” asked Jenson.
Sally stood up, looked around, patted her clothing, checked her pockets and sat down again. “I don't know. I felt as if I had the most insightful, terrifying idea, and then the lights,” she pointed overhead, “and it slipped away.”
“Dr,” said a thin voice over the intercom. “Is everything alright in there?”
Jenson leaned forward, pressed a button. “Yes, Turner, we're reviewing your results. A few more minutes and we'll share with you.” He released the button and turned back to Sally. “I wish I knew what this data implied, but two people don't seem to have provided the answers I need.”
She stared back at him, not saying anything.
“My project is due today.”
“Then ask me,” she said.
“Ok. Will you be the subject for a third test?”
“Let me prepare.”
Thirty minutes later, after Jenson had unhooked the previous volunteer and ushered him out, Sally stood apprehensively before the equipment.
“I use some medication to reduce the pain, but it still will feel as if I'm pushing in all sorts of uncomfortable places,” he reassured her.
“Just get it over with,” Sally replied through firmly gritted teeth.
“They're still working with the equipment.”
“Monitor.”
“Should I alter the equipment?
“They might notice intervention that drastic.”
“What about changing the raw data?”
“We can't do that! Do you know what you are talking about?”
“What can we do?”
“Hope that they abandon the machine. Or make them.”
Jenson stepped back. “Does that feel comfortable? Now that it's hooked up?”
Sally shivered and stared at him, eyebrows raised, until he took the hint and left the room. She watched him return to the computer in the other room. She saw him tapping at the keys, observing the screen. After a few moments she saw him lean back.
“What is it?” she said, pressing the button to talk.
“It's the same issue,” he said, his voice tinny through the speaker. “It's too much, it's almost as if...”
“People are composed of quantifiable characteristics,”
“Should I stop them?”
“Interference would only reinforce their theory. We need something else.”
“Like people are composed of pure data. Everything has a numeric value.”
“I was only hoping to discover a system to discover how to measure people's health, but think what this can do?”
He saw her start to thrash about. “Unhook me,” she said.
“Hold it, you'll break something, or hurt yourself,” said Jenson as he jumped to his feet. A few minutes later they were sitting together in the office. Sally clutched a cup of water, while Jenson toyed with the computer mouse.
“You think it's a fantastic discovery, but I can only ask, why is the human body coded with data for every conceivable characteristic.”
He laughed, “Think about how much money we are going to make.”
“I care, because...”
THE SOUL IS THE IDEAL DATA!
Only the shattering of a ceramic mug disturbed the silence of the pair. Jenson grinned weakly as he bent to toss the shards into his trash can. “You can't fool me with that trick Sal. I'm not sure how you did it but...”
He stopped. She was pointing, mouth agape at the machine in the next room. The wires, left strewn upon the ground, were now floating, arraigned to spell the words which had spoken silently in their brains. The cords sparked, once, twice, and the room burst into flames. Jenson fell from his chair as the computer imploded in a spurt of fire. Sally unentangled him from his chair, as fire alarms sounded, and ceiling mounted fire extinguishers hissed like vipers.
Already a scene was forming in the hallway as they exited the office. Like two solo survivors of a civilizational collapse, or like members of a cult who escaped its pathetic demise, they clung to each other. They were hurried to medical care, refusing to be separated.
After a nurse sanitized and bandaged their superficial burns, she left them alone. Sally looked at Jenson, who refused to meet her gaze. She tapped his shoulder.
“Did you see what that was? What happened? I've spent my life in the search of practical knowledge, and everything I've learned in comparison is insignificant. We need to spread the word.”
He flung up his hands as if to push her away, to separate her from him. “Are you crazy? We've got to respect the powers that be. You saw what they did.”
She tried to grasp his hand, but he withdrew it, as if fearing contamination. “You won't help me? When I supported you.”
“Not against whatever that was.” He looked away from her pleading gaze.
“Dr.s Sally and Jenson,” said the nurse as she stepped back into the room. “You're free to go. After that shock you should probably take the rest of the day off.”
With their cars parked in the same lot, they walked next to each other, Jenson on the left, Sally on the right. Those two, who only minutes had been bound together as if by a rope in a raging sea, now were separated by an invisible wall. They passed down the hallways. They stood silently in an elevator.
As they passed the reception desk, Jenson looked to his left, and spoke as if to no one. “What do you intend to do?”
“Try to convince someone, I suppose. What about you?”
Stepping through the doors into the sunshine, Jenson pivoted away, not answering. She shrugged. As she climbed into her car, he passed by, passenger window down, and heard him reply, just loud enough to be heard. “Come back to work tomorrow. What else?”
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