"Greg Egan - The Vat (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Egan Greg) file:///G|/rah/Greg%20Egan/Egan,%20Greg%20-%20The%20Vat.txt
The Vat A Romantic Comedy Greg Egan Harold's in love. There's no hiding it. You can see it in his eyes, in the heat distribution on his skin, in the twists and whorls of his brain's magnetic field. Mary knows he exists, all right. When she looks his way, she doesn't look through him - not quite. She notices him with a mild frown. She notices him like a splinter in her thumb, or a crease in her lab coat. She notices him like a faint odour; nothing utterly repulsive, but nothing too pleasant either. Poor Harold was once a promising neurochemist. He discovered a brand new neurotransmitter-antagonist which could make rats lethargic and depressed. However, while proving that injections of this substance, during or immediately after feeding, could produce an aversive association strong enough to make the creatures starve themselves to death, he accidentally jabbed himself with the needle, and soon found he was no longer able even to contemplate experiments with rats. So these days, he works on The Vat. Harold is in charge of spermatogenesis. In truth, he doesn't have a lot to do. The computer monitors the temperature, the pH, the concentrations of nutrients, are coated with a gelatinous matrix in which spermatogonia, the stem cells, are embedded. When these cells divide, some of their daughter cells are more of the same, the others are primary spermatocytes. Each primary spermatocyte gives rise by meiosis to two secondary spermatocytes, each of which in turn divides into two spermatids. Under the influence of Sertoli cells, also embedded in the matrix, spermatids mature and shed cytoplasm to become spermatozoa. Harold has seen all of these stages hundreds of times under the microscope, in samples taken for quality control. He ought to find the whole business utterly mundane. Sometimes, though - transfixed for a moment by the image on the screen - he says in dreamy tones of sudden recognition (to no one in particular, often to no one at all), "Yes! This is it. This is life." Staring at these specks of unthinking biochemical machinery, he grows dizzy with wonder, then numb with awe. Then he gets on with the job. Some nights, Harold wakes in the early hours and goes out to walk the empty streets. Why? It's the hottest summer on record, and he can't get back to sleep. Why? Unrequited love, of course. Why? Studies of the sequence of neurological events which occur when a subject makes a self-motivated choice between hitting a button and not hitting a button have revealed that the conscious decision-making process starts milliseconds after other parts of the brain are already committed to action. "Will" isn't the cause of anything, it's an afterthought for the sake of peace of mind. Since reading this, Harold has stopped making an effort to force his intentions to conform to his behaviour; there doesn't seem much point now in maintaining the illusion. He just walks. |
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