Numerology

Chapter 4: They Are Not The Same

I can see more numbers. I woke up this morning and I can see more numbers. As soon as I woke up there was twenty two – bright, yellow, brighter than anything else in my head And I knew what I had to do. I don't know how many more numbers I can see. Only fifteen and seventeen and twenty two. Those are the ones I have seen today and I knew what to do.

I wonder what the new numbers mean. I only know what a number means when I see it. Look, if I can see fifteen and seventeen then I guess that I can see sixteen too but I cannot guess what it means. And fifteen – I know I can see fifteen and I know it means something but it's only when I see it that I know what it means. I saw fifteen this morning and I know I had to do something and I did it but I don't know what it was.

That makes it much easier, only remembering when you see the numbers. Most of the time I do not remember the numbers and what they mean. If you had to remember all of the numbers all of the time it would be much harder. It's a useful trick. I wonder how I do it.

There isn't a number for now. Life is empty when there isn't a number. I just wait. Wait for the numbers, wait for the bright numbers. I feel happy when I see the numbers, I feel empty when they are not there.

Oh, there is fifteen now. Clear and orange. And I know what to do. I get up, I make my bed, I get the broom and the pan, I sweep my room, I dust my room, I clean the sink and bowl in my washroom. That's what 15 means – clean up. How could I not remember it? Then I saw a 1 and went to find Dr Stuart. He was in the lounge with the box. I saw 15 again and knew I had to clean up there too. Dr Stuart watched me do it. He seemed pleased at my work. I just know I was happy because the numbers asked me to do it.

Dr Anna has been talking to me about the numbers. She has been asking me how I feel about the numbers. She shows me some numbers which are written down. I tell her they are not the same. The numbers in my head are bright. The ones on paper are just, well, numbers. They do not have the meaning that the numbers in my head do. She shows me some colours and asks me if they make me think of numbers. I tell her they do not. The colours on the paper are not the same as the colours in my head, although they look the same.

She shows me a 15. It looks orange. I am sure I know what 15 means but I just cannot remember. Dr Anna is puzzled but she is very kind, She doesn't mind that I don't remember.

I heard Dr Anna and Dr Stuart talking. Dr Anna told Dr Stuart that she was surprised by some of the results. The effects of synesthesia seem to be interesting to her. She is surprised by the quiescence response. She suspects it may have something to do with endorphin receptors. I did not really understand what I heard but I think it has something to do with how I see the colour of the numbers. She is surprised that there I have no recollection of the time before I could see the numbers, but how could that be important? I don't remember then. There are only my dreams and I am happier without my dreams.

Chapter 5: On The Radio

When I woke up today there were new clothes. A plain black dress and tights. The dress is quite short, the skirt comes above my knees. It is shorter than I used to wear. How come I remember that? But the 6 just tells me to dress, I put on whatever is to hand and today it is the black dress. My life is so easy, I just do what the numbers say. Somehow it doesn't seem fair.

I was combing my hair this morning. It seems to be getting much longer. There is something strange at the back of my neck. I am sure it was not there before. Before when? Just, before.. It feels hard, metallic. Like an electrical socket. The sort you would find on a computer. It doesn't hurt but it doesn't feel like it should be there.

It is much later I am sitting in my room. Waiting. Dr Stuart comes into the room. He has the box. I see a 5, bright purple, and I undress. Dr. Stuart watches with interest. He is obviously interested to see how I respond to the numbers. I have finished undressing when Dr Anna comes into the room. She looks strangely at Dr Stuart, as if she disapproves of his interest and concern. I see an 8, a peaceful, blue 8. I lay down to sleep.

It is later still. I am lying on my bed, awake. Dr Anna is sitting beside me. She seems concerned about me. She turns on the radio beside my bed. The woman speaking has a quiet, Edinburgh accent.

“Hello and welcome to Science Now, your weekly look at the world of technology. First tonight I am joined this evening by Dr Stuart Waring who has been at the centre of the controversial thought experiments relating to soft-cybernetics. Dr Waring, good evening.”

“Good evening, Kirstie.”

“On one side, your soft-cybernetics theories have led you to be accused of being the Dr Frankenstein of the post-Freud era. On the other you've been condemned as a charlatan. Which is it – fiend or fraud?”

“Well, Kirstie, I hope I'll be able to convince you that I'm neither. What my team has been doing in soft-cybernetics is pure research, an exploration of what it might mean to combine biological systems and control/feed-back systems. We hope to learn what we can about both biology and the nature of cybernetic systems.”

“There's no truth to the accusation that your work paves the way to human robots?”

“Our interest has been in thought experiments – conceptual assessments of the issues involved and the possible outcomes of actions in this area. Most experts agree that it would be a long way from these conceptual exercises to any form of practical application. The real purpose is to help us to understand the nature of control systems and of the ways in which the mind governs behaviour.”

“So, no mindless zombies then?”

“I'm sorry to disappoint you, but no. The scientific research is much more mundane. Let me pose a problem to you that is typical of our thought experiments. Suppose you could control an animal's every movement. How could you translate that into making the animal perform useful tasks? It would be useless if you had to control it in real time like a radio controlled car – the effort to control it would be as great as if the task was carried out by yourself. But how can you provide the animal with a goal or set of actions to perform? And what is the mechanism that translates your requests into action? For example if I say ‘Sit' to a dog and it sits, is the dog a robot?”

“No, clearly not.”

“Well suppose that I were to create a tape of commands including ‘Sit' and place it in a player fixed to the dog's back so that it played a series of commands in sequence. If the dog follows each command and then sits is it a robot?”

“Well, no.”

“But if I did the same thing with a mechanical representation of a dog and the same actions were to occur would that be a robot?”

“Yes, yes it would.”

“Now does this tell us more about the nature of dogs, the nature of mechanical toys, the nature of commands or the idea of robots? To me the issue seems to involve the freedom to behave otherwise. Some of my critics have suggested that my interest is in suppressing human free will. I would argue that I am interested in understanding what exactly it is that distinguishes us from the mechanical.”

“Dr Waring, thank you. I am sure that many people will have been both reassured and intrigued by your ideas. Now, for our second item this evening. New power for the motor car. Can the promise of electrical energy for reducing road pollution be realised…..”

Dr Anna leans forward and strokes my hair in a tender way as she turns the radio off. “There,” she says, “you see how Dr Waring thinks so carefully about these things?”

I say nothing. I used to have a dog that would sit when I said so. Dr Stuart didn't mention the numbers, though. I wonder why he didn't tell her about them. They are the most important thing we have.

Chapter 6: Upload

The girl is half sitting, half lying, sedated, barely awake, on a reclining couch. A net cap covers her scalp and carries an array of electrodes. Wires run from each, eventually joining up to form a thick, electrical umbilical cord running to the electro- encephalograph. A series of green lines on a display trace the activity detected by each electrode. Quiet bleeps mark time for her pulse and respiration.

He checks the monitors. He opens a folder and checks the paper on the inside cover. He checks the small needle mark on the inside of her arm where the injection was administered.

Satisfied that temperature, pulse, respiration and brain functions all appear normal he nods to his collaborator. He reaches behind the girl's head and fastens the connector in place. A cable runs from the connector to the computer on the trolley beside the couch. He checks the monitors again. No change in the traces.

The woman starts the drive on the pen recorder of the encephalograph. She looks across at the girl on the couch. The man scrolls down a menu on the computer and selects “load”. He presses enter.

On the couch the girl's eyes swing wide open. The monitors and the pens on the pen recorder swing into frenetic activity. Her eyes dart back and forth, unseeing. At times her hands clench and open again but apart from that she does not move. Her breathing becomes shallow, her breaths are shorter, she is almost panting, quietly.

It takes only a few minutes. The hourglass icon on the computer's screen stops spinning. The pen traces slip back to a steady line. The green fluorescent lines on the monitors slip back to their steady repetitive beat. The girl's eyes close. She is breathing easily, now, asleep.

He writes on the scroll of paper spilling from the pen recorder. “Natalie : Upload Nrs. 25 to 50 and scripts version 1.1 Beta.” He adds the date and time and folds the paper neatly. He tucks it into the folder.

The woman carefully unfastens the connector from the back of the girl's head and then removes the scalp net, the pulse and respiration monitors. They wheel the girl back to her room and put her to bed.