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Paradigm Shift
Several
years ago, I took a
science-fiction literature course at CSU
Fullerton. The final project for the class was to write either a short
story or a screenplay embodying the main theme we had discussed—robots
and “artificial” humans, in this case. Naturally, I selected an
appropriate
episode from the Histories. Part of a novel-length idea,
“Paradigm
Shift” is incomplete even as a short story. (It should really end after
Ren Suthu Bern’s test of the Paradigm Control System.) Nevertheless,
here
is the story, complete with annotations to further illustrate my
incomplete
research and writing.
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| A.D.
2463 Captain Isaad Ali Sayegh regarded the text scrolling up the screen of his private terminal with increasing distaste. The classified report before him confirmed too many of his long-held suspicions. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he read, despite the fact that the ship was under only one-quarter gravity of thrust. There was simply something inherently immoral about tailor-making people. The terminal chimed, alerting him to an incoming message. His fingers flowed over the keyboard as he acknowledged the electronic hail. A military man of the old school, Sayegh eschewed cybernetic link whenever possible, though he had all the necessary implants. He preferred to keep all his wits about himself, and he invariably found direct interface to be disorienting and generally unpleasant. Lieutenant Surya Brand’s face appeared in the upper right corner of the display as Sayegh keyed into the shipwide communications network. Brand wore his hair in the close-cropped style currently popular aboard ship. Sayegh was somewhat more indulgent, if still within regulations, allowing himself even a short beard and mustache. “Yes?” he asked. “Sorry to disturb you, sir,” the communications officer began, looking somewhat self-conscious in front of his captain, “but we’ve just received a transmission from Iris.1 Admiral Barents requests you join her for dinner this evening.” “Ah,” Sayegh mused, stroking his beard. “Signal Iris. Tell them to let Kirsten Marie know that I’ll be looking forward to it.” “Yes, sir,” Brand said, hesitating. “You know Admiral Barents well, sir?” Sayegh chuckled. “I should hope so. She served as my executive officer for over five years.” “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” Brand flushed, as if he had just failed some test at the academy. “Anything else, sir?” “Yes. What’s our arrival time for Iris?” Brand consulted someone else on the bridge. “At our current velocity, we will arrive in approximately four hours, at about sixteen thirty.” “Thank you, Lieutenant.” “Yes, sir.” Brand started to close the connection. “Wait a moment, Surya Alejandro,” Sayegh said impulsively, using both Brand’s given names in the manner of formal personal address. “May I ask you a personal question?” “Sir?” Brand hesitated. “Relax, Lieutenant,” he said, trying to put the younger man at ease. “I’d just like to ask your opinion of Parallax.” “Project Parallax, sir?” Brand asked, confusion crossing his expression. “Yes. I mean …” Now it was Sayegh who hesitated, not wishing to offend. “… doesn’t it bother you that you didn’t have a normal family?” Brand seemed to stiffen. “Sir, I’ve never considered my family to be abnormal, if that’s what you’re implying. My foster parents even formally adopted me after I was born.” “Of course not,” Sayegh said apologetically, though he was privately glad to see Brand lose some of his submissiveness. “That wasn’t my implication.” “I’m sure you realize, sir,” Brand said, seeming to relax a little, “that the initial Parallax pairings were all entirely voluntary. Each qualifying couple signed a standard twenty-year contract, and, I believe, less than one in ten ever breached that agreement. That’s significantly better than the general divorce rate.” “Quite true,” Sayegh admitted. “But don’t you ever feel used or manipulated?” “Not at all. If anything, I should feel grateful. Parallax has given me interface capabilities well beyond those present in the general population.” “Why did you choose a military career?” Brand hesitated before answering. “Well, sir, it seemed the best choice available to me.” “I see,” Sayegh said. He smiled warmly. “Thank you, Surya Alejandro, for your frankness.” “You’re welcome, sir,” Brand said, returning the smile. He broke the connection, his image vanishing from the screen. Sayegh sighed and leaned back in his chair. Project Parallax had begun secretly some 50 years earlier, a military genetic-engineering program initiated under U.N. authority, the latest manifestation—he considered—of humanity’s rather peculiar impulse to join Man with Machine. It all stemmed from the work of Dr. Filitano Nora, the cyberneticist who, late in the 24th century A.D., perfected advanced neural-network computers. This breakthrough had finally made it possible for a practical interface between the human brain and a computerized control system. In short, he had brought the Machine to Man. However, though most of the population proved able to make use of cybernetic interfaces to some extent, only about 10 percent were particularly adept at it. Dr. Nora’s dream had been to develop what he termed a “psycho-control system,” a cybernetic interface which would allow a human operator to manipulate and interact with a complex electronic mechanism, such as a spacecraft, through a neural-net computer as if it were merely an extension of his or her own body. It was this proposal that had attracted serious interest in U.N. military circles. A fighter or even an entire warship equipped with a psycho-control system would become a living weapon, with pilot and ship acting and reacting many times more quickly and efficiently than had previously been possible. Such technology, the U.N. Military Operations Commission had concluded, would give the unified armed forces the edge that they required to constrain the centrifugal forces pulling at the edges of humanity’s increasingly fragile international union. Unfortunately for both Nora and the U.N. military establishment, even the simplest of psycho-control systems turned out to be far more than the vast majority of people could manage with any degree of proficiency. Therefore, the Military Operations Commission had determined, a more suitable human would have to be developed. And so Project Parallax was born. The first group—Surya Brand’s generation—of improved humans was conceived in vitro from unmodified samples of sperm and ova acquired from those individuals who proved most proficient at full cybernetic interface. The resulting embryos were subsequently implanted in utero and brought to term within human surrogates. Thereafter, the children were placed with couples who were contracted to raise them in accordance with the project’s specifications. The children were enrolled in private military schools and their growth and development were carefully monitored by the project’s team of biopsychologists. The results had been impressive. While a single individual still couldn’t control something as complicated as an entire spaceship, the project’s first “graduates” proved exceptionally adept at manipulating single systems. Project Parallax had brought Man to the Machine. And the U.N. military held even higher hopes for the second generation. Though the children of Project Parallax had been given freedom of choice when it came to civilian or military careers, their education and training had always led in the military direction. And the U.N. military was precisely where most of them had ended up. Sayegh had several aboard Algonquin in addition to Surya Brand, directing weapon arrays, monitoring communications, interpreting data from ship’s sensors.… And he was about to acquire more. * * *
Iris orbited Earth at the third Lagrange point, 180 degrees polar opposite Luna. The asteroid had long since lost its original shape, looking now rather more like a distended lemon than anything else—its surface scarred by centuries of unrestrained mining operations. Earth had acquired its second “natural” satellite over 300 years earlier, after nearly two centuries of overpopulation and environmental degradation had finally forced humankind into space. The last centennial census had estimated the human population of the solar system at 54 billion persons, only 10 billion of whom2 were still living on Earth. The majority of the rest lived in the ever-growing halo of artificial space habitats in Earth orbit and beyond. Iris had helped fuel the construction effort, providing the orbital colonies with much-needed supplies of steel, titanium, silicon, and other valuable materials. The U.N. Combined Space Navy had taken possession of Iris once all the high-grade ores had been exhausted and all commercial mining concerns had vacated the asteroid. The CSN had quickly converted the small planetoid into a major naval station. Iris made an ideal fortress. Virtually indestructible, the asteroid was easily the most secure facility in Earth orbit. Iris was artificially tide-locked with Earth, always keeping the same face toward the planet, rotating just once for every orbital revolution. The asteroid’s southern hemisphere was dominated by an expansive flight deck, a rectangular plane spanning several hundred square kilometers. The deck was almost always bustling with the comings and goings of any number of ships, both civilian and military. Along one small segment of the flight line, a trio of heavily armored fightercraft was being prepped for takeoff. A small army of technicians swarmed over the three fighters, making final preflight checks of avionic and telemetric modules. Their white spacesuits were brilliant in the unfiltered sunlight, in stark contrast with the muted whites and grays of the fighters’ chromoreactive plating. This spectacle went mostly unnoticed by Kay Hadrianus Riad3 as he hastily clambered up the fighters’ launch crane. He had missed scheduled assembly in the hangar below by 10 minutes. “You’re late, Kay,” sent Lieutenant Ren Suthu Bern curtly as Kay climbed into the cockpit of his fighter. Embarrassment stung Kay as he realized Bern’s admonishment had gone out over the general frequency. Anyone listening could have heard. Only then did he notice that nearly the entire Third Earth-Orbital Fleet was moored along the flight line. Kay felt his face flush, but his embarrassment quickly turned to irritation. Bern’s promotion was scarcely a week old, and already he lorded it over the rest of them. “Sorry, sir,” he said, using the closed, intrasquadron frequency. “Don’t let it happen again,” Bern snapped, probably having detected the note of sarcasm Kay had let slip into his voice. “You make both of us look bad.” “Knock it off, Ren. You’re the only one broadcasting to the whole damn fleet.” The third voice belonged to Soh Ilán Stennis, and he was roundly regarded as the best pilot on Iris. Even Bern respected him for that, however grudgingly. He was also Kay’s best friend. Kay, Stennis, and Bern had graduated in the same class from the U.N. Space War College at Goliad. Kay and Stennis had even grown up in the same group home. To Kay, it had seemed almost natural when the three of them had all been assigned to Iris. The truth had done little to change that perception. If anything, he reflected, it had only reinforced it. “Just remember who’s in command here, Stennis,” Bern said. The displeasure in his voice was obvious, but he let the subject drop. “We have to be on the test range in twenty minutes.” Kay strapped himself in and sealed the canopy. He folded his hands in his lap, ignoring the manual controls. Closing his eyes, Kay let himself relax and interfaced with the fighter’s on-board computer, feedback from the ship’s systems settling over him like a second skin. A smile stole across his face as the sensations washed over him: the cool contentment of filled propellant tanks, the barely restrained vigor of idling microfusion drives, the omnipresent inflow of electromagnetic sensor data, the distant cacophony of a thousand different radio channels. Input from the various cameras mounted on the fighter’s exterior combined in his brain to provide him with a three-dimensional, all-around view of his surroundings. When Kay opened his eyes, Bern was conversing with flight-control operators on Iris. He glanced to his right. The ground crewmen were climbing off the fighters and making their way down the launch crane. One technician gave him a thumbs-up sign and then snapped off a quick salute. Kay returned the salute, a finger to his faceplate. Flight control cleared the squadron for takeoff. Kay felt the launch crane’s locking clamps disengage. The crane retracted into the hangar as he brought his maneuvering thrusters to life. He eased the ship forward on thrusters, gradually bringing himself into formation with Bern and Stennis. The three fighters coasted down the length of the flight line. Kay took in the impressive array of warships and transports clinging to Iris’s underbelly. Even the aging battleship Xinjiang, the Third Fleet’s flagship, was there, numerous fuel lines feeding her capacious propellant tanks. Kay Hadrianus Riad was 23 years old. His was the second generation of Project Parallax. * * *
“I see this isn’t to be strictly a social call,” Isaad Sayegh said as he entered Kirsten Barents’ personal wardroom on Iris. Admiral Barents was sitting at the far end of the round table that dominated the room. Two other people sat on either side of her, one man and one woman. Both wore civilian decksuits. “At ease, skipper,” she said playfully, rising from her chair at the far end of the table. Her lips curled into the infectious smile Sayegh remembered so well from the five years she had served as his executive officer. “This isn’t a formal briefing either.” The two civilians stood as well. “Captain Isaad Ali Sayegh,” Barents began, pausing theatrically, “I’d like to introduce you to Dr. Yoshiko Komuro and Dr. Filitano Nora.” Sayegh studied the two civilians. Nora was tall and lean. He was two decades older than Sayegh,4 but his hair was still mostly black, if liberally streaked with gray, while Sayegh’s had long since gone completely white. Yoshiko Komuro was shorter and considerably plumper about the waist, her broad face warm and intelligent. Barents resumed her introductions. “Dr. Komuro is—” “Yoshiko Komuro,” Sayegh interrupted. “Doctorate in biological psychology from Tokyo University. Head biopsychologist for Project Parallax and chief adviser to Project Paradigm.… And, Dr. Nora, your reputation, of course, precedes you.” “Ah, I see you’ve already read the report I sent you,” Barents said as she turned first to Nora and then to Komuro. “Captain Sayegh is commander of our heavy cruiser Algonquin.” “A pleasure,” Komuro offered, though Nora simply nodded. Barents and the others sat as an orderly entered from a side door and began to serve coffee. Sayegh took a seat opposite Barents, accepting a low-gravity mug from the young enlistee. Barents steepled her fingers, smiling pleasantly at him from across the table, but it was Nora who spoke first. “Admiral Barents has acquainted you with the specific goals of Project Paradigm, Captain?” “Quite so, Dr. Nora. If I read her report correctly, Paradigm would be the ultimate fusion of your earlier work and that of Project Parallax: a cybernetic control system capable of managing the operations of an entire fleet from a central location with only the throughput from a single individual. Very ambitious, but will it work?” “Yes, Captain Sayegh, we believe it will,” Komuro said, her voice taut with enthusiasm. “The second Parallax group has performed far better than we had ever anticipated.” “It’s true,” Barents added. “Since we brought them all together here on Iris, we’ve seen things we never expected. They can talk to each other, Isaad Ali, through the interface—telepathically or empathically, we’re not sure which exactly—without saying a word. Many of them have reported this on debriefing, but we also think we can detect it as an unusual spike in the telemetry from training flights.” “The systems were never designed to do this, to code and transmit linguistic communication, but it’s happening,” Komuro enthused. “These are truly exceptional people we have here. They’ve made it happen.” Sayegh tried to read the emotion her voice radiated. Materna pride, he decided. “Dr. Komuro is right,” Barents continued. “Project Parallax has been more successful than we could’ve dared hope. We’d expected that a third generation would have to be incepted before we would have suitable subjects for a live test of Paradigm. Now, we plan to bring the system on line within the month.” Barents sat back in her chair. Both she and Komuro looked pleased with themselves. “So, Captain, what do you think of our little operation here?” Nora asked. Sayegh sipped at his coffee. It was a sweet Turkish blend he had always liked. Ah, how well Kirsten Marie remembered. “I think,” he said, “that what you are doing here is utterly reprehensible.” Kirsten Barents’ smile turned into a frown, and Komuro looked stunned. Sayegh thought he detected a smirk cross Nora’s otherwise impassive face. “How can you say that?” Komuro demanded, her maternal pride apparently wounded. “What will happen when you hook someone up to this system? What will all that input do to her brain? Do you have any idea?” he asked. “None of our computer simulations have shown any measurable danger,” Barents interjected smoothly. “Besides, there has never been a single documented case of such so-called ‘sensory overload’ associated with cybernetic interface.” “How do you know there’s no danger? Did your simulations predict this radio telepathy you’ve just described to me?” Kirsten Barents’ silence was answer enough. “What right do we have to make these people as our tools?” “No one ever asks to be born, Captain Sayegh,” Komuro said dryly. “But neither has anyone born of Project Parallax been made a slave. None have ever been forced to participate.” “Yes, I’ve heard that argument many times before,” he continued, “and it might even have been mostly true for your first generation. I suppose they had the opportunity for relatively normal lives.” “Admiral Barents seems to take it all as some rather elaborate game,” Nora said. “It’s no game. I assure you, Dr. Nora. There were serious strategic considerations behind the decision to initiate this project. And they haven’t changed. If anything, our situation has only gotten worse. Since the Lunar secession—” Barents cut herself off. Filitano Nora was a Lunarian by birth. Only three years earlier the Lunar states had withdrawn as one from the U.N., announcing their intention to form their own political and economic union, a “United Nations of Luna.” The Assembly and Security Council had both been divided over how to respond to this diplomatic crisis, so they had done nothing. And thankfully, Sayegh reflected, as long as indecision reigned in the government, not a single drop of blood would be shed over the issue. “Relax, Admiral,” Nora said. “I know there are those in the Assembly who would have Lunarian independence put down by force, but if I thought there would actually be war between the U.N. and Luna, I would have tendered you my resignation three years ago.” “I’m sorry, Dr. Nora,” Barents said, her tone honestly apologetic. “I didn’t mean to imply that an independent Luna would be a threat to U.N. security. Unfortunately, however, the secession does play into the hands of the Farsiders.” “Yes, I suppose it does,” Nora agreed, sipping his coffee. “I understand that you’re a member of the Phalanx Society, Dr. Nora,” Sayegh said softly, trying to let just enough innuendo into his voice that he might succeed in flushing some real emotion from the taciturn Lunarian. Nora’s eyes narrowed as he regarded Sayegh from across the table. “I do believe that our current socio-economic system is suffocating the human potential—that is what my work has always been about, expanding that potential—but I also do not accept Farside’s proposed solution of dissolving the U.N. so that the strongest nation-states can assert their Darwinian superiority. I am not an anarchist, Captain Sayegh.” Kirsten Barents shook her head in seeming exasperation. “Oh, Isaad Ali, I’d forgotten your talent for stirring people up. Perhaps I should get some food sent in here before you manage to start an interplanetary war.” Sayegh nodded congenially, but he had long since lost his appetite. |
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