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“How long does it take?” Chal asked. The mouse had stopped trying to move and was lying on its side, legs kicking. Its eyes still tracked the movement of Dr. Fielding.

  “A minute or so in mice,” Dr. Fielding said. “Longer in human-substrate organisms.”

  “Like Alan,” Chal murmured.

  “You’re growing quite attached to the prototype,” Dr. Fielding said. “Is that how a scientist should behave?”

  Chal flushed. She had not meant to be so obvious about the connection she had felt with Alan during the last session of questioning. He was just a substrate, after all, grown and implanted with intelligence.

  “Would you like to see the others?” Dr. Fielding asked. His tone was deceptively casual.

  “Other what?” Chal asked.

  “The organisms we’ve grown for future use. The ones who haven’t had their neural structures implanted yet.”

  “There are others?” Chal thought there had only been the three prototypes.

  In response, Dr. Fielding simply fished a set of keys out of his pocket and walked to the other side of the lab. Chal followed, curious.

  It had looked like a closet upon first glance, but now that Chal’s attention was drawn to the door she saw that it had multiple security measures installed. Apart from the normal keypad, the door had a deadbolt that unlocked only with Dr. Fielding’s physical key. There was also a brief flash of light as the door opened.

  “Security alarm,” Fielding said. “Any time this door opens, a warning is issued to main security. They know that only a handful of people are allowed inside.”

  “Am I allowed in?” Chal asked, knowing the answer before he spoke.

  “Of course,” Dr. Fielding said, motioning her inside. He followed her in. “The eminent Dr. Davidson is allowed everywhere in my lab.”

  Chal did not respond to his bitterness; it was normal by now. Dr. Fielding didn’t treat everybody with such suspicions, but Chal was a woman, born outside of the country. She got the sense that he might have been part of the reason for the all-male staff.

  Stepping inside, she could not stop herself from gasping. It was chilly inside, and her breath came out cold. The prototype bodies were suspended along each side of the room, looming over her. The interior of the storage chamber was much larger than it had looked from the outside – the walls extended down for another forty feet or so before ending. And the bodies...

  They were all identical to Alan, with the same dark hair and shaped physique. A plastic molding supported them on the wall, and intravenous lines ran through their veins. They stared straight ahead to the wall in front of them, their eyes blank and meaningless. Their lips slightly parted, like the lips of a doll, or wax figures. And they were breathing.

  “It’s cold in here,” Chal said, trying to cover her initial shock. She watched the chest of the body nearest her rise and fall in slow motion.

  “The substrates are prepped for full animation before we begin growing the neural structures,” Dr. Fielding said. “Their growth is expedited to a certain point, but once they’re at a certain age we use the cold to slow the growth process.”

  “Why this age?” Chal said, examining one of the bodies. “Why do you stop them at this point?”

  Dr. Fielding looked at her curiously.

  “You really don’t know, do you?”

  “Excuse me?” she said.

  “You’ll have to talk with Lieutenant Johnner,” Dr. Fielding said.

  “About what?” Chal turned to face Dr. Fielding. “Come out and say what you mean.”

  Dr. Fielding frowned. “It’s classified. What I’ve told you is all I can say. Talk with Johnner.”

  Although he was being indirect, Chal sensed the kernel of sincerity behind his words. He was suspicious, yes, an asshole, yes, but he was an asshole who was telling the truth, this time at least.

  “What should I ask him?” Chal said.

  “Ask him why we’re putting intelligence into these bodies. Ask him why we’re putting emotion into them.” Dr. Fielding looked around.

  “Why did you show me these?” Chal said.

  “You would have found them anyway, curious as you are,” Fielding said. His voice had a deep sense of purpose in it, but he seemed disappointed by Chal’s lack of understanding. “But I wanted you to see what we’re doing. What we’re making.”

  “I’ll talk to Johnner,” Chal said. “Later.”

  “Of course,” Dr. Fielding said. He was back to being his cold, polite self.

  “And in the meantime,” Chal said.

  “Yes?”

  “In the meantime, you’ll be keeping an eye on me?” She arched one eyebrow.

  Fielding brushed past her and toward the door.

  “You’re just as replaceable as they are once the prototype is fully developed,” he said, once he had reached the entryway. “Don’t forget that.”

  Chal opened her mouth to reply, but found she had nothing to say. The soft sound of the prototypes breathing surrounded her as she stood there, watching the scientist leave. Dr. Fielding did not stop walking as he moved past the lab table, calmly reaching out his hand to brush the dead mouse into the trash can as he went by.

  ***

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It was the fourth awakening. Chal felt confident, and the beginning of the experiment went as smoothly as she could have hoped. The white noise levels had been decreased to almost nil and the lights were increased, though only a small increment.

  All of the scientists working on the project thought that such small changes would not be enough to destabilize the prototype’s development. But they were focused on the wrong stimuli, and spent too much time taking care of the variables they had anticipated. This was a mistake, for crucial errors in experiments happen most often when dealing with radical shifts, changes that have not been anticipated. Such was the case in the fourth session with the prototype.

  Everything was set up properly, and Chal was at peak attention, excited to learn more about the development about the prototype’s brain. She was thinking about how she would ask him about his emotional state, and about what Dr. Fielding had shown her in the previous hours. The initial awakening went smoothly, and Chal was lulled into a sense of security by the repetition of the prototype’s play. Things only began to go wrong at the moment Alan lost interest in his fingers.

  “Alan,” she said. He was staring off into space, his hands still moving on top of the water, splashing softly.

  “Yes, Chal?” he answered in a sing-song voice.

  “I want to ask you about how you’re feeling,” Chal said. She wanted to remember an odd maneuver he had been repeating, interlacing his fingers and twisting them back and forth, and her eyes drifted to the clock to note the time.

  “How I’m feeling?” Alan asked.

  “Yes,” Chal said, writing down the time. “What you’re feeling on the inside.”

  The splashes ceased completely, and Chal’s eyes snapped back to the tank. Alan’s hands were rubbing his thighs, slow but hard, and his eyes were fixed to his body. When Chal saw what he was looking at, she breathed in sharply. He had gotten an erection.

  Stupid, stupid. How had she not noticed? It had been Fielding’s decision to withhold anti-puberty medications from the IV, and Chal had been in agreement, however qualified, that they shouldn’t interfere with normal bodily growth alongside mental growth. Although it would make their lives more difficult initially to deal with the repercussions of hormones, it would decrease the chances of having normal neuronal and emotional development, which was, after all, the main reason they were performing the experiment.

  Chal just hadn’t thought that she would have to deal with these repercussions so soon.

  Alan’s hands knit themselves into fists, and he continued rubbing his thighs.

  “Ohh,” he moaned. Chal held back, afraid to interfere. He seemed to be in a state of distress, though, and it was impossible for her to sit and wait for another minute before talking. She no
ted the time. Her entire being shifted from observation to action. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Alan,” she said softly. His attention snapped to her.

  “Chal,” he said. His voice was strained, and sweat stood out on his brow despite the cool saltwater tank he was resting in. His eyes were frightened.

  “Alan,” Chal said. “Listen to me.”

  “It hurts,” he said. His fists were rubbing at his thighs hard enough to leave traces, but Chal knew a few bruises were not the main concern here.

  “Ahh!” he shouted out suddenly, and his hands gripped his thighs. Chal’s hand tightened on his shoulder instinctively and he jerked backwards.

  “I am malfunctioning!” he cried, and his voice sounded eerily perfect, a copy of the other, failed prototype. “I am malfunctioning!”

  Chal froze.

  She had dealt with emergencies before in the field and in the lab, and every time she had been able to keep her head. Deep breath, don’t choke, and the world would go on spinning. She had always been prepared, always ready to handle whatever flew at her. But this was different. She felt her chest tighten, and all of the air in the room seemed to have disappeared.

  This wasn’t just a failed experiment. This was watching somebody die in front of her.

  Alan’s eyes clenched shut, his entire body tense. He was breathing in hard fast pants.

  “Ahhhh,” he groaned again. His body twisted in the tank. “Ahhh!”

  “Alan,” she said feebly. He was going to die, he was going to die right in front of her and there was nothing she could do or say that would stop it. Her heart felt as though it had stopped in her chest. All of her sense of time was gone, and her eyes were fixed on the man in front of her who was writhing in the water. Her lips parted, but she had nothing to say.

  Then he opened his eyes and looked at her.

  “Chal,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “Help.”

  Something inside of her broke down, and she felt her heart begin to beat again. Help. Yes. Help. She could do that.

  “Alan,” she said. “You’re going to be okay.”

  “Help,” Alan said. He reached one hand up and grasped her by the arm. She felt his strong hand around her tiny wrist, and a rush of fear swept through her again. It was overwhelmed by the need to help him, though, and she leaned forward.

  “This is normal,” Chal said. “Do you understand? Normal.”

  “It hurts,” Alan hissed. His body wrenched sideways, sending a wave of water splashing over the edge of the tank, but his eyes were still glued to her. “Please.”

  The door opened and the assistants stood ready with their syringes. She shook her head once, NO, and turned back to Alan. She steadied him with the hand she had on his shoulder, trying to ignore the tight pressure on her wrist. Alan’s breath made hard ripples on the surface of the water. Every muscle in him seemed to be tensed. His eyes were clenched shut.

  “Try to relax,” Chal said. Her face was hovering only a few inches over his. “Everything you are feeling is normal. Don’t fight it.”

  Alan’s eyes snapped back open to look at her meaningfully, but he could only whimper. He had bitten his lip, and there was a drop of blood trickling its way down his chin. Chal could see the sedation IV beginning to drip red, and thought that it was possibly the worst timing ever. Couldn’t they see what was happening?

  “Don’t worry,” Chal said. “I know you’re scared. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

  Alan’s face was twisted in fear, but at her words he seemed to relax, at least a little. She put her free arm gently around him to support his neck, not wanting him to accidentally breathe in any water.

  “Chal–” he began to say.

  He jerked again in her embrace, his whole body arching back in the tank, and for a horrible moment Chal thought that he was dying. Then she realized what was actually happening, and she held him as his body shuddered once, twice, and then relaxed in her arms.

  “Chal,” he moaned. The sedative was kicking in, but he rotated his head, his neck cradled in her hand.

  “It’s normal, Alan,” she said. Her voice was shaky.

  “Chal,” he whispered again, and that was all. He closed his eyes and was asleep.

  Chal walked outside, her body shaking with nerves. She found herself leaning on the wall outside of the observation room. The door opened and Evan came out. He handed her a towel and she took it, realizing that she was soaked through.

  “That was... something,” he said. He seemed acutely uncomfortable, and Chal was irritated at him for a brief moment. He was a scientist; he shouldn’t be unnerved by the behavior of the prototype. It was predictable, almost, when you were working with adolescents. And Alan was an adolescent in his mind.

  Then Lieutenant Johnner and Dr Fielding came out of the observation room, and she felt the blood rising to her cheeks.

  “Dr. Davidson,” Dr. Fielding said. “An unorthodox session of questioning.”

  “That almost cost us a prototype,” Lieutenant Johnner said. He couldn’t possibly be angry with her, and yet he was staring at her accusingly, as though the whole situation was her fault.

  “You’re the one who wanted him to recognize his own emotions,” Chal said. “He obviously wasn’t ready for self-introspection yet.”

  “Obviously,” Dr. Fielding said flatly.

  “How should we proceed from here?” Lieutenant Johnner asked. “In the next questioning–”

  “The next questioning?” Chal was in disbelief. “The next time he wakes up, he shouldn’t be questioned at all.”

  “We can’t afford to stop the progress of this experiment,” Lieutenant Johnner said.

  “He needs time to recuperate,” Chal said. “He needs time for self-introspection, before we start throwing questions to him about his own emotional states.”

  “We don’t have time for that,” Johnner said.

  “Then you’re risking everything!” Chal said. Her voice was too loud, she knew, but she couldn’t stop herself. She looked at Dr. Fielding, but his face was completely impassive, and she knew she was on her own. “This is going directly against my recommendations!” The technicians behind them were staring at her.

  “Your recommendation will be noted in the record, Dr. Davidson,” Lieutenant Johnner said.

  “Fuck your record,” she said, pushing past him.

  She strode down the hallway and made it into the bathroom just in time. Falling to her knees on the floor, she vomited into the toilet.

  I almost killed him.

  She heaved again, and again, until all that was left in her was air and pain. The bathroom tile was a sterile white, and the brightness of the fluorescent lights reflected off of them made her head dizzy. The image of Alan’s face twisted in fear swam in her vision, and she heaved again.

  I almost killed him.

  She was empty now, her body and mind both, and she leaned back against the bathroom wall, resting her head. The tile felt cold under her, but she didn’t mind. What she minded was the reaction of Dr. Fielding and Lieutenant Johnner, both of them. They acted–

  They acted as if he wasn’t human.

  She shook her head, surprised by her own thoughts. Was he human? Chal had always thought of herself as an objective observer when it came to her experiments. It wasn’t that she didn’t care aout the animals – she did, and made sure to treat them as well as possible – but the most important thing, the only thing that really mattered, was that the experiment turned out right.

  Her experiments, anyway. This was the military’s experiment, not hers, and she had to keep that in the forefront of her mind. They had created something that was, of not human, at least as close to it as was imaginable. But she had apparently started to think of the prototype as a person.

  Alan.

  He was a person. The certainty came to her in a burst of emotion, and her hand came up to rest on her heart involuntarily, as though checking to make sure that the i
ntensity of her feelings had not disrupted her automatic bodily functions. She hadn’t realized it before, and maybe it was something she had pushed back down because it was too hard to understand, but she had come to have an emotional connection with the subject of this experiment.

  To a substrate? the scientist in her wanted to protest. To a bunch of cells implanted with consciousness? Grown into an intelligence?

  Weren’t we all, though? Chal thought. We were all mere bunches of cells, given the gift of consciousness for some reason, or no reason.

  But I gave him consciousness.

  And that’s why you have feelings for him, she thought.

  You’re his Creator. Of course you love him.

  Chal felt the blood already rising into her cheeks. She hadn’t meant to think it, but she had, and there it was.

  She loved him.

  ***

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  After trying to distract herself with a medical lab report on Alan’s neural growth patterns and succeeding only in becoming more and more anxious, Chal got up and forced herself to walk around the floor. She made her way to the substrate lab, where she had left her laptop. The mice chattered in their cages as she entered. Evan was feeding them.

  “Hey,” Chal said, sitting down at the lab table.

  “Hey,” Evan said. He shut the cage and put the mouse food away. “Was just heading out.”

  He seemed embarrassed to talk with her, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to get through this day and have it be over with. Was it day? Underground, the lights were on forever, and she had lost track of what time it was. It could be the middle of the night, for all she knew.

  She hadn’t realized that she had let out a sigh until she looked up to see Evan looking at her.

  “Hard session,” he said, his chubby face flushed with sympathy. “I mean, I didn’t mean HARD, like, you know.”

  Chal chuckled. “It certainly was hard,” she said.

  Evan let out a short, too-loud laugh. “You knew what to do, though. The right way to handle it.”

  “I don’t know what the right way is,” Chal said, frowning. “He could have died.”