"Ken Jenks - Created Equal" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jenks Ken)

Created Equal
by Ken Jenks


In January, 1999, I took over the world. I didn't mean to. I'm still not sure exactly how I did it. But even though you can ask any adult what happened, I owe it to you to write down the whole story, including the events after the Transformation.

I was getting pretty burned out working on my Ph.D. at the University of Illinois. It wasn't just the hard work; it was hard to make ends meet. To augment my measly graduate stipend from the University and financial assistance from the Air Force, I did odd jobs, including tutoring, flight instruction at Willard Field, and computer programming. I made a little extra money as a test subject in the various kinds of scientific research that go on in little laboratories all over the campus, like psychology experiments, user interface testing, biomedical stuff, even the occasional drug study.

I was test subject #47 in a double-blind drug study that month involving a new kind of tranquilizer and a placebo. I took a little blue pill every night before I went to sleep, then answered a bunch of questions via e-mail every morning. I didn't know whether I was in the experiment group or control group, but I was pretty lethargic all the time. Maybe it was the drug. Maybe it was the placebo effect. Maybe it was just winter in Illinois.

I was older than most students, so I was in demand as a test subject, both to round out the age curve and because I'm reasonably reliable. Sometimes it's hard to get out of bed, but once I'm up, I slog through the day pretty well.

My own research was proceeding slowly, partly because of the time required to support myself. My girlfriend, Katie, had similar problems. Sharing rent and groceries with her helped in more ways than just financial. I planned to propose after we graduated.

On January 14, at 8:09 AM, my computer whined at me so I dragged myself out of bed. I use the computer as my alarm clock. I programmed it to moan, bitch and complain at me until I climb out of bed and do a short, random math problem on the screen. I set up the sound software to simulate an old girlfriend's nasal, scratchy voice. I got the math problems from the Net. Hey, it works for me. As usual, Katie was already gone. She's a morning person. Ugh. I grabbed a cold Mountain Dew for a healthy dose of morning caffeine, the real Breakfast of Champions.

The night before, I'd been awake until 3 in my lab at the Loomis Laboratory of Physics, configuring the lasers on the vacuum optical bench ever so carefully. My dissertation on the effects of gravity on antimatter was in danger because my source of antimatter was drying up. It's produced in minuscule amounts at only a couple of places in the world, and the big ring at Argon was down for the rest of the year after a small explosion. I only had a few picograms left, so I had to make every run of my experiment count.

My mind was pretty cloudy from lack of sleep and possibly the tranquilizer, so I dutifully reported my state of mind to the people running the drug study. Just as I sent in my daily questionnaire, my computer reminded me of my appointment at Dr. Kutyna's lab. It was number 14 in a series of experiments in thought transmission. Yeah, right. I didn't hold out much hope for Dr. K. Even science fiction writers had largely given up on the concept of transmitting thoughts across a distance. Dr. K had a room-sized machine he was testing to capture electrical impulses from a human brain, broadcast them across the lab and impress them on a chimpanzee. It was supposed to make the chimp think like a human. I know, it sounds like a Disney film. It was fun, and it paid $10 per hour with a $10 minimum.

I was a little late getting to Dr. K's lab at the Beckman Institute on the north side of campus. His cute lab assistant, Ricci, was helping with the chimp. It was squirming in its chair at the far end of the lab. I got in my usual chair behind a partition and strapped in. After 13 identical runs, I knew what they wanted out of me. I'd sit in the chair, wait for Dr. K to call on the intercom, then push the buttons which lit up on the panel in front of me. After the button sequence ended, I could go. That was fine by me; I had a lunch date with Katie and a strong desire to sleep. Ricci came down to check the connections on my helmet, smiled sweetly, then went back to the chimp to take notes.

Dr. K's voice resounded from the intercom. We chatted about my research while he messed with the chimp. After about five minutes, he said, "Okay, Mitch, we're going to start the sequence. Same as always, eh?"

I sat up in the chair. "Okay, Doc. Let's go." The sequence started and I pushed the buttons as they lit up. Four minutes later, the sequence ended. I unstrapped and said good-bye through the intercom. I thought it was a little odd that I didn't get a response. Shrugging, I ducked out to the bike rack, unlocked my rusty ten-speed and rode back to our apartment on Gregory. Traffic was weird. There were a whole lot of people running, driving and riding toward the Beckman Institute, and there were even more headed in the same direction I was.

My apartment building was surrounded. There must have been three hundred people there calling Katie's name. She peered out the window, surveying the crowd, looking like a princess in a tower.

I made my way through the crowd, which parted around me. They started calling my name, too. There was no pushing or shoving, and nobody was being rude. It was like a dream. An hallucination. Too little sleep, I thought. And I've got to cut down on the Mountain Dew.

The stairway was packed, but they let me through. When I opened the door, the nearest people tried to come in with me, but stopped when I told them to back off. Weird.

Katie was waiting. She looked odd, nervous. "Hi," she said. "Are you still Mitch?"

"Yes," I said, "as far as I can tell."

"So am I," she replied. "I think Dr. K's telepathy experiment did something weird. I have your brain in Katie's body."

I put my winter coat in the closet and sat down on the couch by the window. The phone was off the hook, bleating plaintively, and the cat was yowling in the bedroom. Katie took my usual chair. "Hmm," said I, "I suppose you'd know what I'm thinking, then."

"No, I just have all of your memories up until the experiment. I can't really tell what you're thinking now." She paused for a moment. "Let's see. In second grade, you tried to dig a secret tunnel from the back yard to Euclid school. Mom wasn't pleased with where you put the dirt."

"No," I replied smugly, "that's not what I was thinking about."

She smiled crookedly. "But if I were you, and I am, you'd be wondering how to tell if I'm telling the truth." She had me there. She was one step ahead of me, too. Was she smarter, or just better rested?

I thought about the implications for a bit. "So what were you doing when you became me?"

"Well," she replied, "I'm not exactly sure. I was walking down the hall into the bathroom. I thought it was some weird effect from the experiment, like I had blacked out and couldn't remember coming home. Then I saw Katie's face in the mirror. I don't remember anything about what she was doing. The phone rang, and a bunch of people came, all knocking on the door and asking for Katie. I was still thinking it through when you came in."