Adaptive Consequences Read online

  As Jun birthed herself into the lobby, she was greeted by the usual doleful white tub chairs and a few junior doctors that were huddled over the modular coffee table. They were whispering in Mandarin – an offence as of six months ago – and a warmth rushed through her body. Satisfaction, apprehension, or maybe both. They furtively looked up at her. She gave a single nod and a suggestion of a smile. She adjusted the Zhan Ziqian print that hung above the juniors, sepia-toned and wistful, neighboured unsuitably to a Russian portrait, its disdainful eyes offering a rude welcome. The minor off-kilter touches reminded Jun of when she first joined the team and her tour around the haphazard Geology lab. The only thing, the best thing, to come out of it was meeting Fan.

  As part of her orientation, she was to visit the wider UA sites within the hub, so that she could appreciate the UA’s multidisciplinary commitment to providing globalised solutions. She had visited the Astronomy Department already, where they were undertaking some Terraforming trials; then Meteorology, where they’d talked at her for two hours straight without-so-much as drawing breath. Now it was the Geology Department, and Fan had been assigned to show her around. She had dismissed him initially. He would be like so many white-coats she knew – and seen earlier that week – either their humble modesty faded into the walls, or their well-fed egos continually held out their bowl for more. But not Fan. He’d surprised her and had continued to do so, inch by inch. Just when she thought she’d got him all figured out, he’d do something to inch the dial again; like when he suggested they get a place together. No sooner had he mentioned it and she’d agreed, they’d bought somewhere and furnished it in a matter of months. But he hadn’t been one for spontaneity, or so she’d always thought.

  Despite the white coat, he was as passionate as she was. His earnest expression, as clean and pure as a freshly washed face. As he talked about the composition of the Earth and other planets, his enthusiasm melted her heart. His mop of black hair, glossier than oil, bobbed with excitement as he’d offered to show her the crystal exhibitions. It hadn’t been part of the orientation, but they’d agreed it was hardly treasonous. He’d drawn her to him, like an aurora painting itself in the sky. She had to see the cluster formations, he’d said, ‘each one a prism of enchantment’. His eyes had caught hers, and she noticed the metallic-like flakes in his irises shimmer. ‘That’s the real reason I’m here,’ he had said and looked around him nervously as though someone might hear. ‘It’s my beauty in the beast.’

  It was their two-year anniversary next week. In the past year, the UA had introduced the legislation that its employees had to apply to holiday outside the Province. Another process, another clip at liberty. Jun had applied for a sanction to go to one of the North Euro Provinces. She thought she might visit the Max Planck Institute, and Fan could see the Skocjan Cave. She should have received the sanction notice a few weeks ago; she needed to chase them up. She had been worried about what it would look like, applying for Fan as well as herself. They’d agreed to keep their relationship secret. The UA grapevine had a habit of spreading these things, and they didn’t want to be ‘claimed’ in that kind of way. She couldn’t deny that keeping it a secret added a certain mystique.

  Delphine Chui, a junior doctor, ran towards her, bringing her attention back to reality. Delphine always had a smile on her face; an instinctive armour should Dr Wei, the Head of Department, suddenly appear as he was prone to.

  Jun stifled her usual greeting – nǐ hǎo – to Delphine and felt a lump catch in her throat. Repressing her native tongue wasn’t getting easier over time, it was worse.

  ‘Dr Xie! Odgerel Zaye should be with us in 45 minutes. We’ll be addressing her at 09.30am in L761.To remind you, she’s from the Sumatra-Darhan Province, part of the second stage migration. She’s of Mongolian and African heritage. Her Province is a double whammy – it’ll be submerged in less than a year, and the temperature will be uninhabitable by–’

  ‘Don’t worry, I read the notes,’ Jun said and gave Delphine’s arm a reassuring squeeze. Jun was always prepared, but this was unlike any of their other studies. Zaye was their best shot at delivering the next stage of augmented adaptive unconscious; Jun only hoped Zaye lived up to everyone’s expectations. The idea of someone with Pre-Emptive Perception, in her lab, part of her research…it was exhilarating. It had been only an abstract concept when she was a student. Now, perhaps, she would define it a reality.

  Delphine’s forehead corrugated like an old steel roof. ‘Dr Xie, are you happy with the mechanics of the study? The schedule revisions you made weren’t included in the program I received within the last 24 hours.’

  Jun had prepared the program herself, and it had been signed off three weeks ago. Her revisions included. She didn’t need to ask who’d made the amendments.

  Delphine studied her tablet. ‘The neurological evaluation and the electrodiagnostic testing have been reduced to one day, and the cognitive regulation tests have been brought forward.’

  ‘Thank you for letting me know.’ Jun kept herself professional in front of Delphine, but privately seethed as she walked through the double doors, which led to the departmental offices.

  ‘See you at 09.30!’ Delphine called, her voice skipping down the corridor, but Jun’s mind was elsewhere. Where was Markov and what was he playing at?

  Dr Markov had been at the Department for ten years and had steadily worked his way up from junior doctor to Dr Wei’s unofficial second-in-command. He had been at the department from the beginning, before the UA bought it as part of their Global Futureproofing strategy and monopolised all the scientific disciplines. This was when the UA had merely specialised in crisis management, overseeing evacuation, migration, emergency services, and housing, with a few commercial endeavours here and there. A few years later they invested hard in commerce and goods, and then won the contract for law enforcement, managing the Police and broader security services. Dr Markov was a part of the furniture, and unfortunately, Jun’s co-lead for the study.

  She walked through to the department offices to Markov’s room that he shared with Doctors Krupin and Yeung. They were also old favourites of Dr Wei, and had both applied to co-lead the study, but she had won out. Perhaps obsequiousness only got you so far after all.

  Jun gave a cursory knock before entering the room and interrupting their conversation. ‘I’m looking for Dr Markov, where is he?’

  ‘I’m not his keeper,’ Yeung said. He didn’t bother to look at her.

  ‘He’s altered some of the program elements for Subject Zaye’s observation without telling me,’ Jun said. She’d learned to keep her sanity over the years by ignoring Yeung’s insolence.

  ‘If Dr Markov did change your program, it’s likely he would have instruction from someone else. Someone, I’d wager, more senior than you.’ Yeung relaxed back into his chair, finally deigning to look at Jun with a self-satisfied smile.

  Jun looked at Dr Krupin, hoping that for once, she might be reasonable, but Krupin just shrugged her shoulders.

  Jun pulled the door shut as loudly as she could without slamming it and walked on. If Markov wasn’t there, she’d try Subject Zaye’s living quarters – she wanted to go there anyway. Inside the quarters was like a goldfish bowl, thanks to the one-way panelled glass, visible from the corridor and observation room. Approaching it, there looked to be no sign of Markov, but plenty of cameras and audio recording devices, documenting her every move. The Subjects were aware they would be recorded 24/7; it was in one of the many waivers they signed at the start. Jun didn’t know how they could stand it, but it never ceased to surprise her what some people could endure.

  The room’s aesthetics were in keeping with the rest of the department: sufficient in their whiteness and austerity. A bed, a desk and a rail for clothes. Subjects were permitted to bring some sparse decoration and personal comforts, within reason. Initially, it served its purpose to put them at ease. But eventually, the constant monitoring encouraged paranoia and insomnia, with a dash of
homesickness for good measure. That’s why Jun had amended the program, to allow a greater adjustment period, and streamline the intensity of the work. At least she had before Markov bastardised it.

  Jun patted down the sheets, checked that the phone was charged, and that the personal alarm was out on the desk, should Zaye need assistance. Everything was in order.

  Jun pulled out a small Jade plant from her bag. She’d developed a habit of putting one in every Subject’s living quarters on the first day of the observation. It was a small gesture in comparison to the ask, but it was all the department permitted; Jun had learned to celebrate any wins, however trivial. She typed ‘hello’ on to the mini-Interface screen and propped the plant next to it. Its waxy elliptical leaves were like a hand of green thumbs waving, welcoming the Subjects, or at least, that was the intention. She hoped it would relax and reassure them, but on reflection, was it too big an ambition for so small a plant?

  * * *

  Like twentieth century lab rats scuttling around in an oversized cage, the Cognitive Lab was too large for their party of four.

  The lab was split into different sections to allow greater versatility of the space. There was an Illumination wall for presentations and Simple Reaction Time tests, SRTs, which was flanked either side by testing equipment. Five compartments with state-of-the-art Interfaces were lined up like starting gates on one side, and two juggernauts of neuroimaging equipment on the other. New equipment had only become available in the last few years. The instability of the world and forever fire-fighting problems had meant budgets were continually syphoned and squeezed, before ceasing altogether. Only now, the world had stabilised did they see fresh cash injection, investing in the equipment they so badly needed to sustain and evolve.

  Subject Zaye adjusted herself on the bench in the centre of it all, rooting herself like a black Calla lily against synthetic-white walls and mirrored glass. Indifferent to the prospects resting on her shoulders, she put a hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn.

  As the schedule dictated, Jun had returned to reception to greet the new Subject. Finally, Jun had seen Markov. All six foot of him cowering to talk Dr Wei in the corner, hushed tones and mouths that barely moved. It wasn’t the time to bring up the schedule with him, she would need to address it later. She was drawn to the diminutive woman sitting in front of her, an island in the room. It had to be Subject Zaye. She had dark, delicate features and pools for eyes that seemed to drink everything in. Although her body was slight, she had a warrior-like presence that compelled you to look at her.

  Jun had seen many Subjects since she joined the lab, but her stomach still dropped at the first introduction; a mixture of guilt and her own apprehension – would they live up to her hopes and expectations? They seldom did. She smoothed down her lab coat and took a deep breath and pleasantly introduced herself, thanking Zaye for joining the study.

  Zaye’s response had been less amiable. Her voice was more profound than Jun had expected, low and rusty, and a little abrasive. ‘It’s not like I had much choice, Doctor.’

  The recruitment process varied from Province to Province; the lab team had little control over it, it being organised centrally via the UA. But the idea of plucking someone, like a flower from a meadow and waving them under an optascope was something that had never sat right with Jun, despite its service to society.

  Zaye had studied Jun for a while as if making up her mind. ‘Next time you’d like to pick open someone’s brain,’ she had said, ‘can I suggest you leave the UA pit bulls at home?’

  It was Zaye’s first time in a lab, but by the tech Ai-ssistant’s accounts from her evaluation with Dr Markov earlier, she’d held her own. There was no trace of nerves now, either. If anyone, Jun was the more nervous of the two. What if Zaye didn’t have the potential they hoped for?

  Delun and Jiazhen, the tech Ai-ssistants assigned to the study, came from behind the observation glass where the control room was hidden. Delun motioned over to Zaye and carefully placed the lattice of electrodes on her scalp, more immediate and precise than was humanly possible. The child-size proportions of the tech Ai-ssistants certainly helped, their small stature serving as a reminder of the human/Ai-ssistant hierarchy.

  They planned to start with a standard Simple Reaction Time test, a comfortable warm-up for someone like Zaye. In the SRT, a series of shapes would be shown on the illum wall. Their equipment would capture when Zaye’s occipital lobe registered the shapes, then Zaye herself would need to press a button when she consciously saw the shape change. The smaller the reaction time, the more indicative she had a Pre-Emptive Perception of the imagery.

  ‘Through this lovely crown on my head?’ Zaye said and brushed her fingers along the lattice of electrodes. ‘What’s an average reaction time?’

  Generally, a good time was around 200 milliseconds. Zaye’s health chips indicated more progressive neural pathways than other humans, so they hoped her time would be 100 milliseconds at least. ‘I can’t tell you I’m afraid – I wouldn’t want to affect any of the readings.’

  ‘You expect a lot from me without giving much away,’ Zaye said. ‘The pit bulls never mentioned I’d be treated like a pariah.’

  Jun would need to speak to the recruitment officers again. Their process wasn’t acceptable and didn’t set them up for success. wasn’t acceptable and didn’t set them up for success. Delun dimmed the lights before he motioned to the monitor beside Jun. Her stomach reared, and she reminded herself to breathe.

  ‘Who’s more nervous, Doctor, you or me?’ Zaye laughed.

  The next few seconds were a beautiful blur of visions and sounds, a visual symphony of shapes – squares, circles, triangles, stars and arrows – and spectral colours in a series of clipped flashes, conducting the chimes that followed. A bass note signalled the occipital lobe had registered; an alto-echo, Zaye’s physical response. 20 milliseconds, 20 milliseconds, ten milliseconds, five milliseconds; they were a fraction of the times the team had anticipated. Jun wished she could see it in slow motion and enjoy every milli-moment, savour each flash and devour every note. They had been right; she was special after all. These physical reaction times were too immediate for Zaye to have visually seen the image, register and respond. They indicated that she must have a Pre-Emptive awareness before it was shown. Jun might have finally found the person she was looking for.

  ‘See! There was no need to be nervous,’ Zaye laughed, but a tiredness framed her eyes, perhaps from the exertion of the tests. ‘Can you tell me how I measured up?’

  Jun moved closer to Zaye. ‘We can’t allow the possibility of you unconsciously influencing the tests, I’m afraid.’ It was never easy withholding information from the Subject. ‘The electrodes aren’t too prohibitive, are they?’

  ‘It’s not something I’m used to…’ Zaye shrugged, ‘but don’t worry Doctor,’ she sighed, her proud Calla lily momentarily drooping. ‘I’ve seen my home swallowed by water and been parachuted thousands of miles to a new way of life for the good of my family.’

  Zaye closed her eyes. ‘This is another story on that journey.’

  * * *

  Jun closed the door to Zaye’s living quarters; adrenalin somersaulted through her body. She heard uneven, heavy footsteps and turned and saw Markov, lofty and encroaching, an incongruous oak in a felled forest. This was the only chance she’d get to speak to him about the schedule; trust Markov to appear at the most inconvenient time – she had to get to her anti-PSA meeting.

  Jun walked closer to him, and he bowed his head closer to hers, emphasising his pointedness. He was a man made of angles and edges.

  ‘How did it go with Subject Zaye? What are your initial observations?’ he said looming over her.

  ‘Her responses were so immediate – we were looking at some as low as five milliseconds – as if she knew the stimulus before it appeared. I haven’t seen a genuine case of Pre-Emptive Perception before now.’

  ‘No element of… non-compliance?’ he said, carefully.


  It was a strange thing for him to say on the first day of a study. Zaye was observant, clearly very smart and strong, but non-compliant?

  ‘In my briefing with her earlier,’ he said and leaned forward conspiratorially. Jun noticed an aubergine-coloured scar on his temple. ‘Zaye asked a lot of questions. She reminds me of the one we had to RetrigramAm? Who escaped her room, and broke into my office? She was shrewd too.’

  ‘Odgerel Zaye is no Stefania Esposito.’

  Esposito had been a Subject for about a month, maybe a year and a half ago. They’d been observing her, studying her cognitive flexibility, hoping to develop a treatment that would allow the average human to think about multiple, high-level concepts simultaneously. The woman had been a genius but was manipulative…divisive, playing one colleague off against the other. She’d managed to break into Markov’s office to look for her files. She’d been unsuccessful in that but found sensitive information about other research. The team had to use a RetrigramAm and perform an involuntary retrograde amnesia and decode the memory. Jun had initially been taken in by Esposito, but Markov had always been wary of her – he had spent the most time with her after all – but Jun noticed he often used it as leverage when he wanted to qualify his thinking above hers.

  ‘I’ve seen Zaye’s type before,’ he said, with a self-serving gravitas. ‘She’s extremely intelligent but has an ego to match. Questioning everything to the nth degree…’

  ‘With her capabilities, who wouldn’t be apprehensive?’ Jun said. Remembering the schedule, she carried on, ‘Dr. Markov, ‘why did you change the program at the last minute without consulting me?’

  He peeled a slow smile, his eyes intense and carbon black. ‘It wasn’t anything to do with me.’ He shrugged and walked in a slow, meandering gait down the corridor.