"But it's the only thing that fits."

"Yes, indeed-but you'd only know that if you had an 'apple-agent' that was connected so that it would automatically get activated when enough of the right other nemes are activated-like the ones for red, round, sweet and fruit."

"And also cherries. I must have nemes for cherries too."

"You do. That's why I added 'fist-sized.' But you didn't have those nemes two months ago. Or, rather, you certainly had some apple-nemes, but their inputs weren't wired up right. So you didn't recognize that description before, until we connected them up during therapy."

"Strange. I don't remember that at all. Wait. Of course I can't remember that. It happened before you restored my memory. You can't remember anything until you have some memory."

Snaresbrook was becoming accustomed to that startling sharpness, but it still kept taking her by surprise. But she continued in the same manner. "So that is how nemes hook up. By making the right kinds of input and output connections. So far, we've been able to do this for the most common nemes-the ones that every child learns.

But now we'll be looking for more and more complex nemes and discover how they connect as well. I want to find higher and higher levels of your ideas, concepts and relat ionships. These will be increasingly harder to locate and describe, because we'll be getting into more areas that are unique to your own development, ideas that were known to you and you alone, for which there are no common words. When we find them, it may be impossible for me-or anyone else-to understand what they mean to you. But that won't matter because you will be learning more every day. Every time the correlation machine discovers ten new nemes, it will have to consider a thousand other possible agents to connect them to. And every twenty nemes could trigger a million such possibilities."

"Exponential, that's what you mean?"

"Perfectly correct." She smiled with pleasure. "It would seem that we're well on our way to restoring your mathematical ability."

"What will I have to do?"

"Nothing for now, you've had a long enough day for the first session."

"No, I haven't. I feel fine. And don't you want to work with my new information in case it slides away when I go to sleep? You were the one who told me that a given period of time must pass before my short-term memory becomes long-term memory."

Erin Snaresbrook chewed her lip, chewed at this idea. Brian was right. They ought to get on with the process as soon as possible. She turned to Dolly.

"Can you be here tomorrow? Same time?"

"If you want me." Her voice was very cold.

"I do, Dolly. Not only do I want you but I need you. I know you must feel upset about this-but I hope that you won't forget the boy Brian once was. Brian the man is still Brian the child whom you took into your home.

You can help me make him whole again."

"Of course, Doctor, I'm sorry. I shouldn't think of myself, should I? Until tomorrow, then."

They were both silent until the door closed behind her.

"Guilt," Brian said. "The priest was always talking about it, the nuns in school too. Expiation as well. You know, I don't think that I ever called her Mother. Or Mom like the other kids-or even Mammy the way we do in Ireland."

"No blame or remorse, Brian. You are not living in your past but are re-creating it. What's done is done. Cold logic, as you always told me."

"Did I say that?"

"All the time when we were working together on the machine-when my thought processes got woolly.

You were very firm about it."

"I should have been. It saved my life once."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"Nope. It's part of my past, remembered in all too clear embarrassment. The time when I let a bit of stupid emotion get a hold of me. Can we move on, please? What's next?"

"I'm going to plug you into the computer again. Ask you quest ions, establish connections, stimulate areas of your brain near the trauma and record your reactions."

"Then let's go then-hook them up."

"Not at once, not until we have established a bigger data base."

"Get things rolling then, Doctor. Please. I am looking forward to growing up again. You said we worked together before?"

"For almost three years. You told me that my brain research helped you with your AI. You certainly helped me develop the machine. I couldn't have done it without you."

"Three years. Since I was twenty-one. What did I call you then?"

"Erin. That's my first name."

"A little too presumptuous for a teenager. I think I'll settle for Doc."

Snaresbrook's beeper signaled and she looked at the message on its screen. "You rest for a few minutes, Brian. I'll be right back."

Benicoff was waiting for her outside-and looking most unhappy.

"I have just been informed that General Schorcht is on his way over here. He wants to talk to Brian."

"No, that's impossible. It would interfere too much with what we are doing. How could he have known that Brian is conscious? You didn't tell him-"

"No way! But he has his spies everywhere. Maybe even your office bugged. I should have thought of that- no, a complete waste of time. What he wants to know, he finds out. As soon as I heard he was coming here I got on the phone, went right to the top. No answer yet so you will have to help me. If he gets this far we need a holding action."

"I'll get my scalpels!"

"Nothing quite that drastic. I want you to stall. Keep him talking as long as possible."

"I'll do better than that," Erin Snaresbrook said, reaching for the phone. "I'll use the same trick he pulled, send him to the wrong room..."

"No you won't. I'm in the right room now."

General Schorcht stood in the open doorway. The slightest smile touched his grim features, then instantly vanished. A Colonel was holding the door open and there was another Colonel at the General's side. Snaresbrook spoke without emotion, the tone of the surgeon in the operating room.

"I'll ask you to leave, General. This is a hospital and I have a severely ill patient close by. Kindly get out."

General Schorcht marched up to the woman and stared down at her coldly. "This has long ceased to be humorous. Stand aside or I will have you removed."

"You have no authority in this hospital. None whatsoever. Mr. Benicoff, use that phone, get the nurse's station.

This is an emergency. I want six orderlies."

But when Benicoff reached for the phone the Colonel placed his hand over it. "No phone calls," he said.

Dr. Snaresbrook stood firmly with her back against the door. "I will place criminal charges against you for these actions, General. You are in a civilian hospital now, not on a military base-"

"Move her aside," General Schorcht ordered. "Use force if you have to."

The second Colonel stepped forward. "That would be unwise," Benicoff said.

"I'm removing you from this investigation as well, Benicoff," the General said. "You have been uncooperative and disruptive. Get them both out of here."

Benicoff made no attempt to stop the officer when he stepped by him and reached for the doctor. Only then did he clasp his hands together into a joined fist-that he swung hard into the small of the Colonel's back over his kidneys, knocking him gasping to the floor.

In the silence that followed this sudden action the sound of the telephone ringing was sharp and clear. The Colonel who had his hand over it started to pick it up-then turned to General Schorcht for instructions.

"This is still a hospital," Dr. Snaresbrook said. "Where telephones are always answered."

The General, radiating cold menace, stood motionless for long seconds-then nodded his head.

"Yes," the Colonel said into the phone, then stiffened, almost coming to attention.

"For you, General," he said, and held out the phone.

"Who is it?" General Schorcht asked, but the Colonel did not answer. After an even briefer hesitation the General took it.

"General Schorcht here. Who?" There was a long silence as he listened, before he spoke again. "Yes, sir, but this is a military emergency and I must decide that. Yes I do remember General Douglas MacArthur. And I do remember that he overstepped his orders and was removed from command. The message is clear. Yes, Mr. President, I understand."

He handed the phone back, turned and walked from the room. The officer on the floor climbed painfully to his feet, shook his fist at Benicoff, who smiled back happily, before he went after the others.

Only when the door had closed behind them did Erin Snaresbrook permit herself to speak.

"You pulled some long strings, Mr. Benicoff."

"The President's Commission is making this investigation- not that military fossil. I think he had to be reminded who was his commander in chief. I liked that reference to MacArthur and the expression on General Schorcht's face when he remembered that President Truman fired the General."

"You have made an enemy for life."

"That happened a long time ago. So now-can you tell me what is happening? How is Brian progressing?"

"I will in just a moment. If you will wait in my office, I'll finish up with him. I won't be long."

Brian looked up when the door opened and the doctor came in.

"I heard voices. Something important?"

"Nothing, my boy, nothing important at all."

12

October 27, 2023

"Feeling fine today, are we?" Dr. Snaresbrook asked as she opened the door, then stood aside as a nurse and an orderly rolled in the heavily laden trolleys.

"I was-until I saw that hardware and that double-ended broom with the bulging glass eyes. What is it?"

"It's a commercially manufactured micromanipulator. Very few have been made."

Snaresbrook kept smiling, gave Brian no hint that this was part of the machine that Brian had helped her develop. "At the heart of the machine is a parallel computer with octree architecture. This enables it to fit it on a single and rather large planar surface. Wafer-scale integration. This interfaces with a full computer in each joint of the tree-robot."

"Each joint-you're putting me on!"

"You'll soon discover how much computers have changed- particularly the one that controls this actuating unit. The basic research was done at MIT and CMU to build those brooms, as you call them. It is a lot more complex than it looks at a distance. You will notice that it starts out with two arms-but they bifurcate very quickly. Each arm then becomes two-"

"And both of them smaller, by half it seems."

"Just about. Then they split again-and again." She tapped one of the branching arms. "Just about here the arms become too small to manufacture, tools get too gross-and assembly would have to have been done under a microscope. So..."

"Don't tell me. Each part is standardized, exactly the same in every way-except size. Just smaller. So the manipulators on one side make the next stage on down for the other."

"Exactly right. Although the construction materials have to change because of structural strength and the volume-to-size rat io. But there is still only a single model stored in the computer's memory, along with manufacture and assembly programs. All that changes with each stage is the size. Piezoelectric stepping motors are built into each joint."

"The manufacturing techniques at the lower end must really be something."

"Indeed they are-but we can go into that some other time. What is important now is that sensors in the small tips are very fine and controlled by feedback from the computer. They can be used for microsurgery at a cellular level, but now they will be used for the very simple job of positioning this connection precisely."

Brian looked at the projecting, almost invisible, length of optic fiber. "Like using a pile driver to push in a pin. So this gets plugged into a socket in my neck, as you told me-and the messages start zipping in and out?"

"That's it. You won't feel a thing. Now-if you will just roll over onto your side, that's fine."

Dr. Snaresbrook went to the controls and when she switched the unit on, the multibranching arms stirred to life. She guided them to a position close behind Brian, then turned over control to the computer. There was a silken rustle as the tiny fingers stirred and separated, dropped slowly down, touched his neck.

"Tickles," Brian said. "Like a lot of little spider legs. What is it doing?"

"It is now positioning the fiberoptic to contact the receptor unit under your skin. It will go through your skin, though you won't feel it. The point is sharper than my smallest hypodermic needle. Plus the fact that it is looking for a path that avoids all nerves and small blood vessels. The tickling will stop as soon as the contact is in place-there."

The computer bleeped and the fingers held the metal pad that held the fiber optic firmly in place against his skin. They rustled again as a strip of adhesive tape was picked up from the bench and passed along swiftly to the site on his neck, where it was pressed down firmly to secure the pad in place. Only then did the arms contract and move away. Snaresbrook nodded to the nurse and orderly, who withdrew.

"Now it begins. I want you to tell me anything you see or hear. Or smell."

"Or think about or imagine or remember, right?"

"Perfectly correct. I'll start here..." She made a slight adjustment and Brian shouted hoarsely.

"I can't move! Turn it off! I'm paralyzed-!"

"There, it's all right now. Did it clear up instantly?"