Read Online Going Interstellar by Jack McDevitt, Les Johnson - Free Book Online
Authors: Jack McDevitt, Les Johnson
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In such cases, the system is capable of autonomous operation.”
“In theory.”
“In the mission protocols.”
Ignatiev grinned harshly at the image on the screen above his fireplace. Arguing with the AI system was almost enjoyable; if the problem wasn’t so desperate, it might even be fun. Like a chess game. But then he remembered how rarely he managed to beat the AI system’s chess program.
“I don’t propose to trust my mind and the minds of the rest of the crew to an untested collection of bits and bytes.”
The image seemed almost to smile back at him. “The system has been tested, Alexander Alexandrovich. It was tested quite thoroughly back on Earth. You should read the reports.”
A hit, he told himself. A very palpable hit. He dipped his chin in acknowledgement. “I will do that.”
The avatar’s image winked out, replaced by the title page of a scientific paper published several years before Sagan had started out for Gliese 581.
Ignatiev read the report. Twice. Then he looked up the supporting literature. Yes, he concluded, a total of eleven human beings had been successfully returned to active life by an automated uploading system after being cryonically frozen for several weeks.
The work had been done in a laboratory on Earth, with whole phalanxes of experts on hand to fix anything that might have gone wrong. The report referenced earlier trials where things did go wrong and the standby scientific staff was hurriedly pressed into action. But at last those eleven volunteers were frozen after downloading their brain scans then revived and their electrical patterns uploaded from computers into their brains once again. Automatically. Without human assistance.
All eleven reported that they felt no different after the experiment than they had before being frozen. Ignatiev wondered at that. It’s too good to be true, he told himself. Too self-serving. How would they know what they felt before being frozen? But that’s what the record showed.
The scientific literature destroyed his final argument against the AI system. The crew began downloading their brain scans the next day.
All but Ignatiev.
He stood by in the scanning center when Nikki downloaded her brain patterns. Gregorian was with her, of course. Ignatiev watched as the Armenian helped her to stretch out on the couch. The automated equipment gently lowered a metal helmet studded with electrodes over her short-cropped hair.
It was a small compartment, hardly big enough to hold the couch and the banks of instruments lining three of its walls. It felt crowded, stuffy, with the two men standing on either side of the couch and a psychotechnician and the crew’s physician at their elbows.
Without taking his eyes from the panel of gauges he was monitoring, the psychotech said softly, “The scan will begin in thirty seconds.”
The physician at his side, looking even chunkier than usual in a white smock, needlessly added, “It’s completely painless.”
Nikki smiled wanly at Ignatiev. She’s brave, he thought. Then she turned to Gregorian and her smile brightened.
The two men stood on either side of the scanning couch as the computer’s images of Nikki’s brain patterns flickered on the central display screen. A human mind on display, Ignatiev thought. Which of those little sparks of light are the love she feels for Gregorian? he wondered. Which one shows what she feels for me?
The bank of instruments lining the wall made a soft beep.
“That’s it,” said the psychotech. “The scan is finished.”
The helmet rose automatically off Nikki’s head and she slowly got up to a sitting position.
“How do you feel?” Ignatiev asked, reaching out toward her.
She blinked and shook her head slightly. “Fine. No different.” Then she turned to Gregorian and allowed him to help her to her feet.
“Your turn, Vartan,” said Ignatiev, feeling a slightly malicious pleasure at the flash of alarm that passed over the Armenian’s
“In theory.”
“In the mission protocols.”
Ignatiev grinned harshly at the image on the screen above his fireplace. Arguing with the AI system was almost enjoyable; if the problem wasn’t so desperate, it might even be fun. Like a chess game. But then he remembered how rarely he managed to beat the AI system’s chess program.
“I don’t propose to trust my mind and the minds of the rest of the crew to an untested collection of bits and bytes.”
The image seemed almost to smile back at him. “The system has been tested, Alexander Alexandrovich. It was tested quite thoroughly back on Earth. You should read the reports.”
A hit, he told himself. A very palpable hit. He dipped his chin in acknowledgement. “I will do that.”
The avatar’s image winked out, replaced by the title page of a scientific paper published several years before Sagan had started out for Gliese 581.
Ignatiev read the report. Twice. Then he looked up the supporting literature. Yes, he concluded, a total of eleven human beings had been successfully returned to active life by an automated uploading system after being cryonically frozen for several weeks.
The work had been done in a laboratory on Earth, with whole phalanxes of experts on hand to fix anything that might have gone wrong. The report referenced earlier trials where things did go wrong and the standby scientific staff was hurriedly pressed into action. But at last those eleven volunteers were frozen after downloading their brain scans then revived and their electrical patterns uploaded from computers into their brains once again. Automatically. Without human assistance.
All eleven reported that they felt no different after the experiment than they had before being frozen. Ignatiev wondered at that. It’s too good to be true, he told himself. Too self-serving. How would they know what they felt before being frozen? But that’s what the record showed.
The scientific literature destroyed his final argument against the AI system. The crew began downloading their brain scans the next day.
All but Ignatiev.
He stood by in the scanning center when Nikki downloaded her brain patterns. Gregorian was with her, of course. Ignatiev watched as the Armenian helped her to stretch out on the couch. The automated equipment gently lowered a metal helmet studded with electrodes over her short-cropped hair.
It was a small compartment, hardly big enough to hold the couch and the banks of instruments lining three of its walls. It felt crowded, stuffy, with the two men standing on either side of the couch and a psychotechnician and the crew’s physician at their elbows.
Without taking his eyes from the panel of gauges he was monitoring, the psychotech said softly, “The scan will begin in thirty seconds.”
The physician at his side, looking even chunkier than usual in a white smock, needlessly added, “It’s completely painless.”
Nikki smiled wanly at Ignatiev. She’s brave, he thought. Then she turned to Gregorian and her smile brightened.
The two men stood on either side of the scanning couch as the computer’s images of Nikki’s brain patterns flickered on the central display screen. A human mind on display, Ignatiev thought. Which of those little sparks of light are the love she feels for Gregorian? he wondered. Which one shows what she feels for me?
The bank of instruments lining the wall made a soft beep.
“That’s it,” said the psychotech. “The scan is finished.”
The helmet rose automatically off Nikki’s head and she slowly got up to a sitting position.
“How do you feel?” Ignatiev asked, reaching out toward her.
She blinked and shook her head slightly. “Fine. No different.” Then she turned to Gregorian and allowed him to help her to her feet.
“Your turn, Vartan,” said Ignatiev, feeling a slightly malicious pleasure at the flash of alarm that passed over the Armenian’s
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