Read Online Otherness by David Brin - Free Book Online
Authors: David Brin
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Modern & contemporary fiction (post c 1945), Modern fiction, High Tech, Science Fiction - High Tech, Science fiction; American, General & Literary Fiction
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Tetsuo and Reiko signed their chops to a document. There was talk of a leave of absence from Tetsuo's company, and an important post when he returned. He spoke to her of buying a larger house in a better neighborhood.
"One of our problems has been in the field of software ," he explained one evening, though Reiko knew he was talking mostly to himself. "Our engineers have been very clever in practical technology, leaving most of the world far behind in many areas. But computer programming has turned out to be very hard. There seems to be no conventional way of catching up with the Americans there. Your father used to claim that it had to do with our system of education."
Tetsuo laughed derisively. "Japanese education is the finest in all the world. The toughest. The most demanding!"
"What . . .?" she asked. "What does this have to do with the babies?"
"They are geniuses at programming!" Tetsuo cried. "Already they have cracked problems that have stymied hundreds of our best software designers. Of course they do not understand what they are doing, but that does not seem to matter. It is all a matter of asking questions in just the right ways and letting them innovate.
"For instance, the unborn have yet no concept of distance or motion. But that turns out to be an advantage, you see, for they have no preconceptions. They bring fresh insight, without being burdened by our worldly assumptions. So one of our young engineers solved a vexing problem for the Ministry of Trade, while another has developed an entirely new model of traffic control that should reduce downtown congestion by five percent!"
Tetsuo's eyes held a glow, a wild flicker that gave Reiko a chill. " Zuibun joozo desu, ne ?" he said, in admiration of that accomplishment by an unborn child. "As for our son," Tetsuo went on, "he is being asked even more challenging questions about transportation systems. And I am certain he will make us proud."
So, Reiko thought. It was even worse than she had imagined. This was more than juku , more than just another form of cram-education. Her child was being put to work before he was born. And there was nothing at all she could do about it.
Guiltily, Reiko wasn't even sure she should try.
13.
A Klein bottle . . . she knew the name in a dream .
It was what one called that bizarre thing—a container with two openings and none at all . . . whose inside was its outside .
14.
When Mrs. Sukimura's time came, they knew of it only by the fact that she did not join the others at the computer center. Ah, well , Reiko thought. At least the respite was coming soon.
Traditionally, childbirth in many parts of Japan was done by appointment, during business hours. A woman scheduled a day with her obstetrician, when she would check into the hospital and receive the drugs to induce labor. It was all very civilized and much more predictable than the way it apparently was done in the West.
But for the women of the test group, matters were different. So important was the work the fetuses were doing that it was decided to wait as long as possible, to let the babies come as late as they wanted.
The reason given was "birth trauma." Apparently, emerging into the outer world robbed even the most talented fetuses of their small but potent psychic powers. After that they would lapse to being babies again. Talented, well-tutored babies, but babies nonetheless.
The MITI technicians regretted this, but it would certainly be no "trauma" to her. To Reiko this coming return to ignorance would be a gift from the blessed Buddha himself.
Oh, it would be strange to have a genius son. But they had promised her that he would still be a little boy. She would tickle him and make him laugh. She would hold him when he tripped and cried. She would bathe in his sweet smile and he would love her. She would see to that.
Genius did not have to mean soullessness. She knew that from having met a few of her father's students over the years. There
"One of our problems has been in the field of software ," he explained one evening, though Reiko knew he was talking mostly to himself. "Our engineers have been very clever in practical technology, leaving most of the world far behind in many areas. But computer programming has turned out to be very hard. There seems to be no conventional way of catching up with the Americans there. Your father used to claim that it had to do with our system of education."
Tetsuo laughed derisively. "Japanese education is the finest in all the world. The toughest. The most demanding!"
"What . . .?" she asked. "What does this have to do with the babies?"
"They are geniuses at programming!" Tetsuo cried. "Already they have cracked problems that have stymied hundreds of our best software designers. Of course they do not understand what they are doing, but that does not seem to matter. It is all a matter of asking questions in just the right ways and letting them innovate.
"For instance, the unborn have yet no concept of distance or motion. But that turns out to be an advantage, you see, for they have no preconceptions. They bring fresh insight, without being burdened by our worldly assumptions. So one of our young engineers solved a vexing problem for the Ministry of Trade, while another has developed an entirely new model of traffic control that should reduce downtown congestion by five percent!"
Tetsuo's eyes held a glow, a wild flicker that gave Reiko a chill. " Zuibun joozo desu, ne ?" he said, in admiration of that accomplishment by an unborn child. "As for our son," Tetsuo went on, "he is being asked even more challenging questions about transportation systems. And I am certain he will make us proud."
So, Reiko thought. It was even worse than she had imagined. This was more than juku , more than just another form of cram-education. Her child was being put to work before he was born. And there was nothing at all she could do about it.
Guiltily, Reiko wasn't even sure she should try.
13.
A Klein bottle . . . she knew the name in a dream .
It was what one called that bizarre thing—a container with two openings and none at all . . . whose inside was its outside .
14.
When Mrs. Sukimura's time came, they knew of it only by the fact that she did not join the others at the computer center. Ah, well , Reiko thought. At least the respite was coming soon.
Traditionally, childbirth in many parts of Japan was done by appointment, during business hours. A woman scheduled a day with her obstetrician, when she would check into the hospital and receive the drugs to induce labor. It was all very civilized and much more predictable than the way it apparently was done in the West.
But for the women of the test group, matters were different. So important was the work the fetuses were doing that it was decided to wait as long as possible, to let the babies come as late as they wanted.
The reason given was "birth trauma." Apparently, emerging into the outer world robbed even the most talented fetuses of their small but potent psychic powers. After that they would lapse to being babies again. Talented, well-tutored babies, but babies nonetheless.
The MITI technicians regretted this, but it would certainly be no "trauma" to her. To Reiko this coming return to ignorance would be a gift from the blessed Buddha himself.
Oh, it would be strange to have a genius son. But they had promised her that he would still be a little boy. She would tickle him and make him laugh. She would hold him when he tripped and cried. She would bathe in his sweet smile and he would love her. She would see to that.
Genius did not have to mean soullessness. She knew that from having met a few of her father's students over the years. There
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