Venus Rising

By Eric Cadwell

	A broken, twisted body lay on a table...

	>”Artificial brains are delicate, Danny.  Practice great care when you work with them.”<	
	>”I understand, Doctor.”>

	A gigantic figure loomed over the patient in the dimly lit laboratory.  In a deep, calm voice, he spoke to a nearby computer which took his dictation.

	“The subject has experienced severe trauma and hemorrhaging.  Time of termination unknown.  Beginning recussitation immediately.”

	With painstaking attention to detail, the Doctor examined the wounds on the girl’s body.

	>”Organic composite brains so closely resemble human brains that they can be affected by the same crises.  The presence of an upgraded superstructure and repair nanites can add to survivability, but ultimately we are the blueprints for their minds.”<

	The Doctor then carefully turned his attention to the head wound.

	“Four high-caliber rounds to the body’s center mass, fully repairable.  One high-caliber round passing completely through the cranium... salvation estimates questionable.”

	‘The first shots would put her down easily, she’s only a domestic model.  The gunshot to the head would be unnecessary, unless...’

	“Injecting booster nanites now.  Type 21A Stylus, custom cyberdroid medical program.”

	His brow knit as he looked into the poor girl’s glassy eyes and terrified expression.

	‘She must have known something... something important.’

	“Placing subject in protein bath.”
	
	>“Now, isolate the proteins.  If you’ve designed it’s augmentative DNA correctly, they should proactively form synapses.”<

	>”Hmmm... Ah!  There they go.”<

	>”I apologize, doctor.  I’ll do better next time.”<

	>”Oh, daddy!  Daniel’s doing his best, you shouldn’t be so hard on him!”<

	Memories flashed through the man’s head as he attempted to work a miracle.

	>”C’mon Doc!  Group photo!”<

	>”Harrumph!  If you insist.”<

	>”Everyone say ‘Adam’!”<

	>”Adam!”<

	“Neurons are firing at 5% capacity.  Skill centers are active.  Long-term memory loss imminent.  Short-term memory loss stable at a repair-fade rate of 80 images per second and rising to infinity.  Survival flares low, complete neurological collapse in three hours.”

	‘Her memories are giving out.  She’s slipping away from me...’

	A soft chime brought the Doctor’s attention to the scanner readout.  He suddenly became frantic in his motions.

	“Severe synaptic collapse has added complications.  Complete neurological collapse now estimated in twenty-five minutes, best case scenario.”

	‘... I’m chasing a ghost.’

	>”Here, Mackie.  Mister Hawthorne heard you were sick and made this for you.”<
	
	>”A paper crane?  For me?”<

	The Doctor pulled a special syringe from a nearby cooler and injected it into his own arm.  Almost immediately his body became hyper-responsive and he felt as if on fire.  At the same time, his frantic mind calmed and his thoughts were once again cool and sharp, like a surgeon’s scalpel.  Time seemed to slow down around him and he efficiently went about reassessing the situation.

	“Switching solution to unstable helix proteins.  Taking manual control of Type 21A Stylus nanites.”

	The Doctor’s fingers were a blur over the nanite programmer’s keyboard, spitting forth long, complicated strings of new code into the medical mainframe.  His body seemed far away, though.  his perceptions of time and space and matter melted together to form a cold, mathematical landscape.  Even his innermost feelings could now easily be explained away as a simple, identifiable chemical reaction.

	“Electrical neural stimulation losing effectiveness.”
	
	“Organic mass replenishment at optimum rate.  Complete neural collapse in five minutes.”	

	The Doctor watched as the girl in the protein tank struggled to heal in the precious few moments remaining.  The computer reported higher and higher nanite failure rates as the Stylus nanites did things that they were never meant to do.

	“Cerebral reconstruction at 60% critical mass.  Complete neurological collapse in two minutes.”

	The reconstruction of the girl’s mind seemed to proceed at a snail’s pace as the computer quickly counted the seconds left to complete neurological collapse.  The Doctor closed his eyes and was thankful to the Frostfire coursing through his veins for dulling his sense of failure.  He had been so close.

	‘Lord and Father, who art in Heaven, hold dear the soul of this departed child.  God, forgive us our sins and our trespasses against these, our own creations who serve us faithfully and were made in our image...’

	Another soft chime from the scanner readout prompted the Doctor’s attention.  He looked over the screen in cold silence.  For a moment, he said nothing as the last few seconds ran out.  Then, slowly, he began his final dictation.

	“The use of unstable helix proteins has resulted in the spontaneous generation of brain tissues.  Critical mass at 100%.  Redundant mass is 52% complete.  Neurons are firing at 24% of normal capacity and rising.  Due to redundant mass loss of the original cranium, the patient is fully expected to be amnesiac and/or retarded.  Skill loss and motor function loss highly possible, but not evident as yet.  Full regeneration of patient expected in fifteen hours.  Project successful.”

	‘In twenty hours, she will be conscious and expecting answers that I don’t have.’

	Weary now that the drug was wearing off, the Doctor set the nanites back to automatic and shuffled quietly out of the lab.  Hundreds of questions plagued him as he curled up on a nearby couch and fell into a troubled sleep.

	>”You’ve been on this project for over eighty hours, Daniel.  Though all of my students are smart, you have a special dedication to your work that I admire.  I’m proud to be your teacher.”<

	>”Thank you, Doctor Stingray...”<