Rebirth: a short story
“Dottore? Dottore!”
Alessandra ran to Marco’s side and turned him over. “We need some help here!,” she called out. Doctor Giacobbe Ribesi ran in and immediately began to check on Marco.
“What happened?,” he asked her.
“I don’t know. I just walked in to give Doctor Mascetti some test results and found him slumped over in his chair. I tried to waken him, but he didn’t respond. Is he alright, Doctor?”
“Give me a minute. Get on the phone and call for an ambulance.”
Alessandra went to the phone and dialed for help. Marco began to move his head and his eyes fluttered open.
“Wha-? What’s going on?,” he said groggily.
“Lay still, Marco. You were passed out in your chair.”
“No. I’m okay.” He took a breath. “Just dizzy…I just need something to drink.” He started to sit up.
“Marco, we’re calling for an ambulance. Be still until it arrives.”
“No. I need to sit up. Please, just some water.” Giacobbe brought Marco the bottled water on his desk and he slowly began to drink.
“Thanks. No, I feel better. I’m fine, really. I am overworked and tired.” He chuckled. “And I haven’t eaten today.” He looked at Alessandra, still on the phone. “Please hang up, Alessandra. No need for an ambulance.”
“Are you sure?,” asked Giacobbe as he helped Marco get to his chair.
“Yes. Yes. I just need a break- and some food. I’m going to take lunch now. But thank you both. You up for an early lunch, Giacobbe?”
“Early?,” Giacobbe said looking at his watch. “It’s already past noon. But yeah, just give me a minute to finish up,” he added before going back into his office.
Marco felt a familiar awkwardness form when Giacobbe left him alone with Alessandra. But he took a breath and plunged in, “Uh, Alessandra? Ah- Do you like food?” Fool! “I mean. Of course you like food.” He flushed. “No, no. Not like that. I mean, you don’t look like you like food too much. Um. Anyway, I was wondering if you would like to join us for lunch?”
She suppressed a smile, but her eyes were kind and her answer seemed genuine. “Thank you, Doctor Mascetti, but I can’t.” She shrugged helplessly. “Doctor Franco said I had to finish looking over the nano-programmers’ reports and get my summary to him before the end of the day.” She then added as an afterthought, “But thank you for asking. Here are the results you wanted, by the way,” she said, handing him a sheaf of papers. She paused before walking out the door and looked at him with kind concern. “Are you sure you are well, Doctor Mascetti?”
“Yes. Thank you Alessandra.” He smiled nervously at her as she left. Marco exhaled and his body seemed to collapse in on itself. He put his hands to his head. “Mama mia, what did I just say?”
Just then, Giacobbe walked back in. “Well, you gave her quite a scare.” Giacobbe then turned around to watch Alessandra’s very attractive form retreat. “It got her attention, though,” he said smiling, and then winked conspiratorially. “Come on. You made all that up, didn’t you. ‘Didn’t eat today!’ Ha! I’ve seen you go all day without any food- and under a deadline too!- and never once pass out.” Giacobbe nudged Marco in the side. “Come on, admit it. You faked that to get her attention, didn’t you?”
Marco laughed at his friend and put his hands up defensively. “No. No. But, hey? If it gets results, I may have to do it again.” He laughed to show he was joking.
“Just ask her out, already! I think she likes you.”
Marco groaned. “I tried to, just now. It was so bad. So. Bad.” He winced in horror. “But Enrico is on her back about the nano-programmers’ reports.” He paused, then sighed and added, “It’s probably better anyway. If I sound like such a complete moron after just twenty seconds of conversation, I can’t even imagine what a one hour lunch would be like.”
“Great. Then I get to experience it all by myself. Anyway, where do you want to go?”
Marco snorted. “I thought we could go to Old Rome, Trattoria San Teodoro.”
“Good choice. I haven’t been there in a while.”
*
The temperature was warm, though dark clouds scudded across the bright spring sky. Birds filled the air and the patio smelled of food and promised rain. Music floated across the square from numerous cafes and joined the coos of pigeons, the hum of conversation and the clink of glasses and silverware.
Marco looked up from his papers as the waitress brought a basket of bread and their wine. After she left, he said, “Well, from the look of the second stage primate testing results, we’re definitely on the right track. Sign-language words and other discrete memes appear to have successfully been transferred from educated chimps to uneducated ones.” He paused, reading. “I have to look at this in more detail. But it appears that the neural-nanites were able to create these new synaptic connections without destroying any of the existing ones, just as in our earlier tests with rodents.” He put the papers down and tore into some bread. “When we get back I’ll begin my neural analyses to document the transfers,” he said as he ate.
Giacobbe took a sip of his wine, a dry Frascati. “Yes, I’m very excited with the results so far. And the nano-programmers have been doing great work.” Giacobbe smile became a grimace. He sighed irritably. “Though my own project has hit a dead end.” He blew out in frustration. “Why does the brain back up memories in the genome at all? We can’t find a single biological reason for it.”
“But you’ve been able to determine that destroyed memories are not restored by any known means. That’s something.”
“That’s about all we’ve been able to determine. Destroyed regions stay destroyed. Memories are backed up, but that’s it. We haven’t found a way to force the backups to be restored using natural means, or even if such means exist.” He took a sip. “So right now, we’ve started playing with the idea that offspring might get some survival advantage from this kind of memetic backup at a subconscious level, perhaps related to instinct or intuition, for example.”
“Eh, maybe. We’ll get it though. It’s only been five years since we discovered HVPs and how to decipher those mRNA encodings. And now, here we are- already transferring discrete memories between rodents and now primates. That, in itself, is amazing.”
Giacobbe only grunted sourly. “It’s still frustrating.”
The waitress brought their food- antipasto of zucchini flower strips, artichoke hearts, and a salad of mesticanza and mushrooms, and then the main course of sea bass carpaccio with pecorino, a tangy sheep’s milk cheese, sprinkled on for flavoring - and they began to eat with gusto. In between bites, Marco went on. “Cha! You heard what that idiot Enrico did, right? He put in a proposal to start human testing. Can you believe it? We’re not even close to that stage yet!” He went on irritably, ticking each point on his fingers. “We still have to do longitudinal studies to determine the effects of creating new neural connections in our test subjects; we have to figure out how memories are chosen for back up; whether any additional neural information is also backed up; how to identify specific memory encodings. And then there’s your question of ‘why’! And-” He exhaled in frustration. “We have years to go yet before we begin testing its practical human applications.”
Giacobbe paused before putting a strip of zucchini in his mouth. “Yeah, I heard. He’s an idiot. Thinks so much of himself, always name dropping. Plus, I don’t trust that guy at all. You can feel him sneaking around your back. He and Herr Doctor Mengele would have been great friends, I think, had they lived at the same time. Probably start testing on his assistants.” Taking his bite, he added wryly, “Strange, actually, who his friends are. Like that archeologist from Padova- I forget his name-”
“Speaking of assistants--”, Marco interrupted.
“Alessandra?”, Giacobbe said with a an amused chuckle.
“Ai, she is something else. I don’t know why I get so nervous around her.” He stopped to gather his thoughts. “I can give presentations to hundreds of colleagues. And have taught thousands of students. But one on one with her, when it’s not professional, I just can’t relax and I end up sounding like a moron.”
Giacobbe answered innocently, “Well, of course. That’s because you are a moron.” He laughed. “No, I’m joking. But I believe it’s because you think too much about it. You meet someone and immediately start imagining what being married to them would be like, or what kind of story the way you two met will make. It gives off a desperate vibe. Women feel like you’re a stalker.” He paused. “Or one in training.” Giacobbe smiled to take the sting out. “Just take it moment by moment and you’ll be fine.”
“Thank you so much. You’re such a good friend,” Marco said sarcastically, a smile fighting to break out. Finally he grinned. Then he took a sip of his wine and sat back closing his eyes, taking in the sounds and smells of
Marco looked at the many beautiful buildings and the empty plaza in the distance. “The Forum Romanum was down that way- the center of Roman political and economic power. Statues dotted the area, of the men who made us great. The brothers Gracchi, Marius, Sulla, Pompey the Great, Cato,
Giacobbe laughed at Marco’s waxing nostalgic. “What is wrong with you, Marco? I thought you hated history. In fact, I seem to remember an undergrad student who told Professor Spano that the future lay in the scientific advancement of all men, not in-”, his voice became comically haughty- “‘reliving old barbaric glories of a privileged few who stood on the backs of the poor,’ as you put it so passionately.” He sipped his wine as Marco laughed. “Not to mention that you forgot Emperor Augustus himself, or Marcus Aurelius. Not to mention, oh, just about everyone from the Renaissance era, if you want a comprehensive list.” He stopped for a moment and then finally added in earnestness. “Besides, we’re making history. That’s what this whole project is about, isn’t it.”
“I don’t know why I feel nostalgic. Sitting here, I guess, in the middle of this ancient city, on the verge of new advancements promising to reshape the depth of human communication and training, or to defeat cerebral diseases like Alzheimer’s, makes me think of where we came from and all that we were.” He laughed at himself. “I must sound like an old man. I guess I really must have been tired this morning when you found me.” He took another drink. “But you’re right. What do I care about those butchers or about narrow-minded nationalism?” He snorted. “Actually, I’m surprised I remembered any of their names at all. I’m going to have to call Professor Spano and tell him. He would actually be proud of me. Something from his class stayed with me after all these years.”
“You’ve had too much to drink, my friend. Let’s finish and get back to work.”
*
After lunch Marco and Giacobbe returned to the office, Giacobbe to try to figure out the reason for why memories were being encoded in genetic material and Marco to document the latest memory transfers. It had been in the final years of university that they had made their crucial discoveries. First Giacobbe, doing his doctoral work on declarative memories and the role of the hippocampii in processing those memories, discovered that they were sending out a previously unknown structure. These innocuous structures were similar to viruses- just a cell wall enclosing strands of mRNA. Dubbed Hippocampal Virus Packets, or HVPs, by Giacobbe, they made their way to the nearest cells. The mRNA in the HVPs was then copied into specific sections of those cells, which, in turn, created and released more HVPs and thus, the process repeated itself. The result was that within 48 hours, all the DNA in a large organism had the information originating from the hippocampii copied into it. But the big question was what did it mean?
Marco, Giacobbe’s old friend and college roommate, was a mathematician specializing in Information Theory and minoring in Micro-Biology. When Giacobbe shared his findings with him, Marco became intrigued because he saw some kind of extra-biological pattern in the mRNA. His doctoral work became the study of that mRNA and the information it seemed to contain. After a number of fruitless efforts to ‘crack’ the mRNA, he hit upon the solution and discovered that the information was encoded using a very efficient heuristic algorithm. This information naturally resolved itself into a multidimensional adjacency matrix, which encoded some sort of weighted graph- a representation of points and their connections with varying numeric factors characterizing those connections. In itself, this encoding method- and the fact that this was naturally occurring in the brain- was mind blowing. But further research with Giacobbe confirmed what this entire process seemed to suggest: for whatever reason, the hippocampii were taking new to-be-stored memories, or memes, and creating a genetic ‘hard-copy’ of what the memories would look like once they were actually written into long term memory using the standard method of neural synaptic connections. The brains of larger mammals, and, it was later discovered, some sea creatures, were encoding memory information into the organism’s genome. Immediately, the two put together a proposal to study the process in more detail and to explore some of the uses of this phenomenon. The possibilities for treating those with memory loss or Alzheimer’s, as well as revolutionizing training techniques were many.
Five years later, they were in the initial stages of memory transfer testing, using nano-technology. These neural nanites were programmed with the encoded weighted graph data and then injected into the subject’s brain, where they cooperated in creating connections among existing neurons and thus recreating those encoded patterns. They had started with rodents and had successfully transferred memories of the most efficient maze paths, lever sequences indicating release of food, and a host of other discrete memories that previously had to be taught through Pavlovian conditioning of the subjects. Now, they had moved to primates and had, it seemed, successfully transferred memories from their more complex brains in similar fashion.
Marco was now attempting to manually confirm that the encoded neural data had been written into the appropriate memory structures of the subject’s brain. After generating the projected neural patterns inside a computer simulation, he then called up the actual subject brains’ scans made with their newly perfected method of Neural Radial Illumination, or NRI, a procedure that permitted the mapping of all extant neural paths without requiring the death and dissection of the subject. The NRI was set to do a localized mapping of memory areas of the brain, since that was where the new neural orderings would have gone. He was verifying the locations of the newly encoded data in the subject’s memory structures.
As Marco worked, he began to notice some of the orderings were missing, which was odd, to say the least. During the rodent testing, all encoded data had been accounted for in the subject brain. Perhaps there had been a problem with the neural-nanites’ programming? Or maybe it had been a hardware issue. He’d have to check with Enrico.
When he was finished he calculated the total missing data and was shocked. In all subjects, it was more than 50%. How could that be? He printed the results, got up from his desk and headed out the door to Enrico’s office. When he reached it, the door was closed and he could hear loud voices inside. He amended that thought. One loud voice. Enrico was a prig of the first order and it was a relief to Marco that he and Giacobbe were not under his authority.
Time to put an end to shouting. Marco knocked loudly and the voices stopped.
“Come in.”
Marco walked in to find Enrico sitting at his desk, his face flushed though forcing a smile, and one the nano-programmers, Gian Carlo, standing stiffly. He’d only run into Gian Carlo earlier that day. Quite literally. Gian Carlo had been rushing about the halls, papers and other items in his arms, and had collided with him. The mess was quickly sorted out and they had gone their separate ways.
“I hope I am not interrupting anything important?,” he said, a bit disingenuously. Interrupting one of Enrico’s habitual tongue lashings was definitely something he enjoyed doing. It was, he supposed, somewhat passive aggressive, but it was so much easier to do than actually getting involved.
Enrico’s face became one of feigned concern when he saw who it was. “Marco! Good to see you. How are you feeling? I’d heard there was some sort of incident earlier today.”
Marco was embarrassed and tried to shrug it off. He didn’t want to give Enrico any more ammunition. “Yes, I am fine. Just work and stress. And I forgot to eat. You know how it is.”
Enrico’s eyes flickered to Gian Carlo briefly and then back to his. “Oh yes, I understand. You must take care of yourself. You are critical to this project.”
“I will.” He turned to Gian Carlo. “Actually, I am glad you are here too. There is something I want you both to look at.”
“Certainly, Doctor Masceti,” said Gian Carlo, a look of apprehension suddenly appearing on his face. Enrico seemed wary as well.
“Well, I was going over the NRI scans on primate group 1ga, documenting projected neural ordering with the actual transfers, and found that over half of the projected mappings are not there. They are missing.”
Enrico’s expression changed to one of genuine interest. “What do you mean ‘missing’!”
“Missing. As in not there. They were not written into the subject brains at all! I wanted to eliminate simple nanite error from our concern. Obviously, if there were errors in the nanite pathway programming, hardware issues, or if their synchronized behavior broke down, that would explain it.”
Enrico looked at Gian Carlo with suspicion. “We can take a look at the activity logs for that group and see if that is the case.” His face became irritated. “Though I’d like to think that even Gian Carlo here might catch something that large.” He turned his chair to face Gian Carlo. “You oversaw the transfers for that batch of primates. Did anything occur that you might have forgotten to tell me? Or decided not to tell me about?,” he asked with a slight hint of threat in his voice.
“No, Doctor,” Gian Carlo said hastily. “I can pull up the logs here.” After a few minutes of activity at Enrico’s terminal, the log summaries were up. He stopped, looking sheepish, and wet his lips nervously. “There were no items that were too far outside expected parameters.”
Enrico’s face took on a pained expression and he exhaled. “Gian Carlo, why don’t you just tell me what happened.”
“Well, it’s just that the neural ordering took a bit longer than expected.”
“How much longer?,” asked Marco, to forestall Enrico.
“About ten minutes more than we expected.”
Enrico suddenly blew out a sigh of exasperation. “Ten minutes out of a six hour neural ordering? That’s not important. Gian Carlo! Do you exist to waste my time? Or Marco’s? First the incident earlier today, and now this?”
Marco broke in, “Hold on a minute, Enrico. That’s a 3% time differential. It might be significant.” He looked at Gian Carlo. “Were you able to account for the extra time?”
Gian Carlo, flustered, went on. “Not yet. We still have to go over the individual logs in more detail. Perhaps neural density or simple material shortages during the reordering might be the cause.”
“Go ahead and pull it up. I’d like to get at least a preliminary idea right now,” said Marco.
Immediately, Gian Carlo pulled up the nanite ordering logs for group 1ga. After some quick scanning, he began to point out the relevant activity.
“Ok, see here is where the ordering actually began. Notice that the synchronization signal remained at an acceptable level throughout the procedure. Though,” he paused, reading ahead and his voice became nervous, “it appears that the signal strengths of…80% of the nanites were weaker than normal. Um. Let me check something else.”
He opened another specimen’s log and placed it side by side with the current one, and then another’s.
“I didn’t see this before. Here too the signal strengths were weaker.” He glanced nervously at Enrico. “I don’t understand this.”
Enrico, looking irritated, said, “You didn’t notice any of this during the ordering? What were you doing? Sleeping?” He rolled his eyes and then said, “Move! Let me look at it. Maybe you can squeeze out an explanation in your own cubicle.” Crude. He turned to Marco. “Marco, as you can see, we have some kinks to work out. I’ll let you know what our little brain trust comes up with.”
Marco felt irritation start to swell in him. But he suppressed it and said, “Ok. I’ll go back and verify the adjacency matrices and make sure it matches those being used by the nanites.”
He looked at the crest-fallen Gian Carlo and added, “I’m sure it will be fine. Your work here has been exemplary.”
Gian Carlo’s face looked relieved but then, for no reason, became pained. “Thank you, Doctor. If you’ll excuse me?” Gian Carlo left the room.
Enrico was still looking at the logs when he commented, “What a moron.”
Marco suddenly felt a profound urge to speak up and put Enrico in his place.
“Enrico, you disgust me! You are, without question, the most unpleasant person I have ever had to work with.”
Enrico looked up, mouth open in shock.
Marco went on. “I want you to know something, Doctor Franco,” he said somewhat sarcastically. “Giacobbe and I are the ones who created and are in charge of this project. And all personnel on this project work for us. Including you. If I ever see you treat someone like that again, I will recommend your termination immediately!” His glare did not leave Enrico’s face. “No, I will demand it. You are not that important to the project. I will not tolerate your behavior!”
Enrico’s expression became feral, then relaxed, calm sliding over his face. But his eyes had a new element of nervousness to them.
“I’m sorry, Marco. I will…try…to work on that.”
Marco didn’t blink. He looked at Enrico, feeling a strange sense of superiority and power. “See that you do.” He went to the door and then turned back to give Enrico one more look.
On his way back to his office, Marco found himself analyzing his behavior with a strange sort of detachment. Interesting. He was not flushed with adrenaline nor was he nervous like he normally was after any kind of confrontation. Instead, he was replaying Enrico’s behavior in his mind. And he could read Enrico’s reactions. Something was going on with Enrico. And Gian Carlo was part of it.
As if his thought had been a summons, he turned the corner to his office to find Gian Carlo walking away from the door. “Gian Carlo, was there something you needed?”
Gian Carlo turned around. “Uh, no Doctor. I just. Ah,” he seemed to search for words. “I just wanted to say thank you for your help with Doctor Franco. I know he doesn’t like me. But, uh, I appreciate that you believe in me. I won’t let you down, sir.”
Marco wasn’t fooled. Speaking about a superior might account for some of his nervousness. But only some of it. He wanted to prod more. “You’re welcome. You’re very capable, you know.” Still, Gian Carlo hesitated, clearly wanting to ask something more. “Was there something else?”
“Oh. Ahh. Well, earlier today, when I ran into you, I think we might have mixed up our water bottles. I was just wondering if you still had it?”
Strange question, thought Marco. “No, I drank it earlier this morning. Why?”
“Oh, just curious. I thought mine had been lime flavored and when I went to drink later it wasn’t. Anyway, thank you again for your help,” after which he rushed off. Marco stood there for a moment, thinking- lime flavored indeed. No it wasn’t. A poor excuse. Then he walked into his office, looking around. Nothing seemed out of place. But it had looked like Gian Carlo was coming out of his office. And he had definitely not been waiting simply to ask a stupid question. I think Franco has a side project going. And that Gian Carlo is aiding him. He would watch them more closely.
But he needed to get back to work. There was still that question of the missing half of the encodings. He first regenerated the adjacency matrices by hand. Then he compared them with that used by the nanites in primate group 1ga. Unfortunately, they were the same. He had to think. He was missing something, something obvious. He pulled up the localized NRIs and looked at them again. And then it hit him. Localized. He needed to do a wider area scan, search the whole brain. He looked up at the clock. The primate handlers were probably either gone or had put all their equipment away. He’d have to wait until tomorrow to reorder the scans.
He got up, straightened his desk, locked his computer and went to the door. Grabbing his coat, he gave his office one final look- Gian Carlo had been here looking for something, he was sure of it- and then locked the door.
He started to go left toward the exit, and then stopped. He had an idea. He went in the opposite direction toward the programmer cubicles. When he got there, he located Alessandra’s cubicle. Curiously, instead of feeling nervous or pressured, he felt the same detachment that he had with Enrico. And more. He felt playful.
Marco began jocularly. “I was about to leave before I realized I just had to come down here to see your lovely face. If you would indulge me?”
Alessandra laughed, a wide smile on her face, and after a moment of mock study, so did he. “Such beautiful eyes. May I touch them?” She laughed again, her face becoming a bit red. A few of the other programmers poked their heads out to see what was going on. He went on, unaffected by their presence. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to embarrass you.” He grinned sheepishly, then admitted, “Well, ok. Maybe I am a little.” She laughed again. “Would you have dinner with me?”
Her face broke into a warm smile and she immediately said, “I’d like that. Let me just get my things.” She got her purse and he helped her on with her jacket. A small part of him was stunned. It had worked! And he wasn’t even floundering! She said, “I’d hoped you’d ask me.”
Marco said, “Just working up the nerve. I’m in the mood for Indian. There’s a great place in Trastevere, Surya Mahal. Have you been there?”
“No, but I’m game.”
*
They sat in the restaurant garden overlooking the Piazza Trilussa. The brisk evening air was redolent with tandori and curry spices while strains of sitar music hung over the background hum of conversation. A couple of Indian beers- Lal Toofan- stood on the table, along with the remnants of their wonderful dinner.
“Come on,” he said, “you totally can dance to this. Watch.” He started to get up. She grabbed his arm and pulled him down.
“Stop it,” she said playfully. “You’re terrible!” Her face was flushed. Then she sat back and took a few breaths. “This was delicious, Marco. And I’ve had a great time.” She smiled at him.
“So have I,” he said sincerely. “I can’t remember when I had such a good time. In fact, I don’t want it to end.” He looked around. The room was nearly empty, except for some of the waiters and busboys doing some cleanup. “Looks like we shut the place down, though.”
“Oh, then I have an idea!” She said excitedly. “Let’s go for a walk in the old city. This is a perfect night!”
“Alright.”
Marco took care of the bill and then they walked the eight blocks to the old city. The night was invigorating and as they walked and talked, he periodically brushed against her. It was thrilling. Some of his nervousness started to return. But then he thought about how he was doing with her, how wonderful the evening was, and relaxed. He could handle this.
The air had a slight bite to it, but it was very refreshing. The clouds hung silver-blue in the moonlight and cast an ethereal light over everything. Once they got there, Alessandra started to take the lead, walking ahead and backwards, pointing out different items that interested her. He just watched her. She was so beautiful and filled with life and passion. He relished being in her presence, just listening to her talk.
She stopped in front of three lonely columns standing in a field of scattered stones and got quiet for a moment. “I love this one. I don’t know what they were, but they are amazing. So…” She hesitated as she searched for the right words, “So stately and proud, even in their ruin. A work of art. ‘Remnants of power,’ I’d call it.” She stopped talking. He looked at the three dirty white columns, a ruined capstone across the top, glowing in the moonlight, surrounded by other signs of old glory. She went on in softer voice, “It reminds me of my father. He was so very strong and important in my life.” She was quiet again. “He was the foundation of my world, impervious to the pressures of life or the grinding away of the years. He raised me after my mother died.” She was silent for a minute. “And then I took care of him when he got older. He was so weak at the end. Time defeated him anyway.” The quite lay heavily across the ruins, not even a breeze disturbing the moment. “When I see these columns here, I think of him, the remnants of the young and vigorous man he was, the father I remember him to be.” She paused again. “It’s sad. And yet so moving. Even in old age, the man he had been showed through his old and tired frame. Like these columns.” She laughed self-consciously, trying to lighten the mood. “I suppose I’d make a terrible historian, though. I can’t tell you what this building was.”
He couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so he stayed silent. They continued walking until they met up with another street that ran perpendicularly to it. In front of them and to their left stood a tall, imposing structure, in better condition than the others. Its walls were grey in the moonlight, three tall windows high above the two large doors, a shallow pitched roof on its top.
“And what does this building say to you?” Marco asked. He found her mind fascinating. She smiled shyly and thought about it.
“Hmmm.”
He waited patiently.
“I see magnificence and dignity. Tradition and simplicity.” She thought about it. “Yeah. In fact, it reminds me of a statue I saw in the museum a while ago. A god with two faces, looking forward and back.”
“Janus,” he said quietly.
“Yes, that was it. Janus. Looking back to the past, to the foundation, to where we came from. And at the same time, looking forward, to the future, ready for it. To power and glory. The person who built this was doing the same thing.”
“Wow,” he said sincerely. “You have a real eye for this.”
She smiled shyly. “Thank you.” She looked at the building again. “I wonder what it was?”
He was going to admit that he didn’t know either, when a memory floated up from the depths of his mind. “It was the Curia Hostilia, the Senate House of the Republic.”
“Really? Do you know who built it?”
“The original was burned down with the body of Publius Clodius in it.” He didn’t see recognition in her eyes and so explained, “He was a rather troublesome senator during the days of Caesar, and a demagogue,
“Wow. I didn’t know you were a history buff.”
“You know, it’s funny. I didn’t use to be. But I guess people change” He turned from the Curia and looked at her. Her beautiful face was bathed in moonlight, soft and luminous. She looked up at him and he saw interest. “Yeah, people change.” Her eyes seemed searching, looking into his, her left hand moving up to push a stray hair behind her ear. He moved closer, feeling confidence surge through him. He could do this.
He did. He went in for a kiss and was received beautifully. She was in his arms, warm to his skin. His hands and fingers pressed her lower back and spine softly and she melted into him. When they finally broke apart, she was out of breath, hand gripping his arm firmly. He could see that. And something new. He could read her, could read her reactions and thoughts from the way she moved, her slightest body language. Why had he never seen this before? It was so clear.
They walked hand in hand back to her apartment.
“I had a wonderful time,” he said, touching her cheek slightly.
“Me too.” She took his hand from her face and held it with both of hers. She smiled at him. “I’m so glad you asked me. I’ve waited for a while.”
“I am too.” He kissed her again, more deeply. Then he said good night, leaving her wanting him. Perfectly ending what turned out to be a perfect day.
He walked home completely and totally content with how his life was turning out.
*
That night, he slept fitfully. His dreams were primal and overwhelming. In one, he sat at a desk with a few books on it. Desks sat around him. Then there were more books. Then more. Then more. Books piled up on each other, higher and higher. They were stacked everywhere, even around him, enclosing him, surrounding him, towering over him. More kept getting added until they started to fall and for some reason, this provoked an irrational terror. He couldn’t let them fall, they were getting everywhere, being ruined. They fell on him, drowning him until he was lost in a sea of books, unable to find anywhere to stand. As with the previous dreams, he woke, feeling lost, wondering where he was. When morning finally came, he arose and got himself ready for work. His unease from the night before faded away in the morning rituals, and he left his apartment feeling at ease.
Upon arriving at work, he went to Giacobbe’s office. Giacobbe was drinking a double espresso and reading La Republicca. “Morning. I got you some espresso.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“So, how was your evening? I half-expected a call to have dinner.”
“It was good,” he said innocently sipping his espresso. After a moment, he added, “I didn’t call you because I was with someone.”
“Oh really,” said Giacobbe. He looked at Marco. “Well, you seem pretty satisfied with yourself. Anyone I know?”
“I think so,” Marco said casually. “It was Alessandra.”
Giacobbe spluttered. “No! Really? How did that happen?”
Marco chuckled at his friend’s tone. “I went to her cubicle at the end of the day and asked her out.”
“Wow. Just like that? Well, good for you,” he said sincerely. Then he asked a little too casually, “So how’d you do?”
“Actually, quite well. We went to Surya Mahal and afterward, took a walk to the ruins.”
“Well, it sounds like you had a good time. Maybe Caterina and I should join you both sometime.”
“Maybe.” Marco decided to change the subject. “By the way, have you seen Enrico or Gian Carlo this morning?”
“No, why?”
“Something odd happened yesterday. I was documenting ordering transfers and found some discrepancies. So I went to see Enrico and the door was shut. But I could hear him yelling at Gian Carlo. But when I went in, Enrico tried to act like nothing was going on.”
“Enrico yelling at a subordinate is hardly odd.”
“True enough,” Marco admitted. “But then I found Gian Carlo by my office, like he had just come out of it. Nothing seemed out of place. When I asked him what he was doing, he made up some question to ask me. But I think he might have been looking for something.” He then added quickly, “It’s true, none of that is proof of anything. But still, something’s not right.”
“Strange. Well, I’ll keep an eye out for them. Can’t have any industrial espionage going on.” He took another drink of his espresso. “So what was this discrepancy?”
Marco told him about the missing transfers, the synchronization signal degradation and his desire to look at a larger NRI scan.
“Hmm,” Giacobbe said a bit worriedly. “I hope we haven’t hit a major roadblock. Let me know if you need any help.”
“I will. So any ideas on your end?”
“What? Oh, the reason for the encodings? Actually, I did come up with a way to test that the encodings provide an advantage to descendents. It’s pretty involved and will take time. We’d have to begin by inhibiting HVPs in test animals and then expose them to some stressful situations over a period of time. Then see how their descendents perform in the same situations. There are a lot of details to work out.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“Yeah, it does. But I’m excited to have something to work on that might give some answers.’
Marco stood up. “Well, I’d better order the NRIs and then get to work.”
“Alright. Let me know if you want lunch.”
Marco walked to his office, absorbed in the possibilities of Giacobbe’s test. He didn’t notice Alessandra until she was walking next to him.
“Good morning, Doctor Mascetti.” He could see her profile and she was smiling.
“Good morning Alessandra. You know, you can call me Marco. All my friends do.”
“Ok. Good morning, Marco. I just wanted to come by and tell you I had a wonderful time last night.” She blushed a bit.
“I did too,” he said, his face beaming. “We’ll have to do it again.” He thought about asking her out again right then and there. But instinct told him not to do it right now. “What are you working on today?”
Her eyes fell, just slightly. “I think Doctor Franco is having us look at the synchronization signal degradations from yesterday’s tests. We need to make sure there wasn’t a hardware issue with the nanites.”
“Yeah, I’m working on the same problem. I am going to study the complete NRIs. It’s possible the orderings were written in the wrong place. In fact, I’m on my way to reorder the scans right now.”
“Oh. Ok. Um. I hope that I see you later,” she said hopefully.
“You will.”
Marco smiled to himself as he walked to the primate lab. He was playing the game.
“Hey, Marco!” said Renzo jovially, when he walked into the lab. “I didn’t expect to see you back this soon.” The pudgy zoologist put on a look of mock dread. “You don’t want me to kill something, do you?”
“No,” said Marco laughing. “Hopefully, those days are done. No. I need the 1ga group rescanned, but this time, the entire brain.”
“Good, it might help explain what’s going.”
“How do you mean?”, said Marco, suddenly with a note of concern.
“Well, after the transfers at the beginning of the week, the group exhibited the normal mental lethargy that we’d come to expect. It lasted a bit longer that it had for the rats, but that was expected, since their brains are more complicated and more densely wired. And when that passed, we then ran the battery of tests to see if memories had be transferred. You got the reports, right? The results were positive.” Renzo stopped, looking puzzled. “But this morning, they have been acting odd.”
“Explain odd,” said Marco, taking a seat.
“I’d use more words if I could, Marco. The thing is, they’re just behaving differently. Not more aggressively, at least no more than any of them do. Not ‘crazy’, if you will. But just different.” He sat down and tried to explain. “Take Bibi, for example. Specimen 1ga-12. Just a beta male, you understand. Not the lowest level, but not the top, either. But lately, he seems confused. He alternates between behaving as a slinking, submissive, lowest-rung-male and his normal more aggressive middle-rung self.” He stopped, frustrated. “It’s hard to know, exactly, since we cannot actually talk to them. But I can definitely see a difference in his behavior.” He found what he was trying to say. “He is falling in the social structure. And the others might be doing so, too.”
Marco was somewhat discouraged at this news. But in his core, he knew what they were working toward was possible. The promise was too great. He would not fail. He could not fail. And he couldn’t be seen to be fearful, even a little. “I’m sure that this is just a temporary set back, Renzo. We’ve had some troubles with the nanites. Some of the encodings are missing from where they’re supposed to be. It’s probably part of the problem.”
He stood up, the picture of confidence. “Keep an eye on them, Renzo. Document their behavioral changes and tell the others to do so as well. And go ahead and run the complete NRIs for all the subjects for me. We’ll find the problem. In the meantime,” he said walking to the door, “I’ll be in my office.”
Walking through the halls, his mind kept going back to Enrico and Gian Carlo. He suspected they might know something about this. He turned down a hall that would take him to Enrico’s office. Perhaps a direct approach would work, put him off guard. But when he came to his office, Enrico was not in yet. He hesitated only a moment before he tried the handle. It was his project, after all. He had a right to know what was going on. But it was locked. He started toward the programmer cubicles to see Gian Carlo. Now that he thought about it, it would be easier to get information out of him.
He saw a man walking toward him. The man was vaguely familiar, but was not part of the project.
“Excuse me,” said Marco. “Can I help you with something?”
The man looked past Marco and then said, “No thank you. I am just going to see Enrico- er Dr. Franco.”
“He’s not in.” Marco’s suspicion grew. “And visitors are not allowed to wander the halls unescorted.” The familiar man looked nervous.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
That, at least, was sincere. Marco feigned a smile. “That’s ok. I’ll tell him you came by. What is your name?”
After a moment, he said, “Michele. Michele Bruto.”
“Ahh. Enrico’s friend from…Padova, right? Tell you what, I’ll call Enrico and see where he is.” He pulled out his cell phone and began to dial.
“No, it’s fine,” Michele said quickly. “I was just wondering if he wanted to get some coffee. I haven’t seen him in a few weeks. I’ve been working out of town.”
Marco looked at him. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I should have called him rather than come to his office. I’ll leave and call later.”
Marco said, “Ok, I’ll walk you out. This way-,” he said, gesturing the opposite direction. After a moment, Michele started walking. Marco walked alongside him. “You’re an archeologist, right?,” affecting to make small talk.
“That’s right,” Michele said.
“Sounds interesting. History is quite dense underfoot, especially here.”
“Yes it is,” Michele said, strength returning to his voice.
“So what are you studying at the moment?”
After a second, Michele answered. “We’ve been exploring the remains of old villas in the countryside. Some of them appear to have belonged to famous people from the end of the old Republic.”
“Really? Like who?” Marco didn’t have to feign interest anymore.
After a moment, he said, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. We haven’t made the formal announcement, so you’ll understand my hesitancy. We have to be ready to defend our claims.”
“Of course, of course. I understand.”
“In that case. One of the villas appears to have belonged to
“Oh-ho,” Marco said, sincerely, eyebrows rising. “That is a find. I don’t suppose our golden-tongued rabbit left behind any new writings for us, did he? He was quite prolific, you know.”
“Well actually,” Michele said, warming up to his subject, “we’ve found a portion of his library. Most of which we already have. We’re still cataloguing everything, but there do appear to be a few new items.” Marco wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw Michele’s mouth quirk in a smile. “A number of great finds. History-making, even.”
“I’d have to agree with you.
Michele missed a step and then looked at Marco. “Yes. Yes. I agree. We are still the great people we used to be. The rest of the world will one day see that again.”
Marco said simply, “That they will, Michele. They absolutely will.” He snorted derisively. “And not just UNESCO World Heritage sites, either.”
Michele looked surprised.
They reached the exit and Marco surprised himself by offering his hand. “It was a pleasure, Michele. I hope you visit again. Obviously, call ahead. But I’d be interested in hearing more about your new discoveries.”
Just as surprisingly, Michele shook his hand vigorously. “That would be nice, ah Dr-”
“Marco Mascetti. Call me Marco. I’m one of the project leaders. Well, it was a pleasure. And I’ll tell Enrico you stopped by.”
“Thank you, Marco.”
Marco stood there for a few moments after Michele left. An interesting fellow. Another piece of the puzzle? Or simply a visiting friend? He’d watch Enrico’s reaction when he told him of the visit.
He went to Gian Carlo’s cubicle, but he was not there. Some inquiry showed that Gian Carlo had taken the day off.
Even more puzzled, Marco returned to his office and got back to work. It would be a few hours before the NRIs got to him. In the meantime, he’d try to study this particular batch of nanites to see if he could find the cause for the signal degradation. The fact that it occurred in all the subjects indicated that the problem was with the nanites, either physically or their programming. Gian Carlo and the other programmers would be looking at it, but perhaps he’d see something they’d missed.
A knock on the door and Giacobbe’s head peaking in brought him out of his concentration. He looked at his clock and saw that 3 hours had passed.
“I’m starved,” Giacobbe said. “You want to get some lunch?”
Marco put his hands to his head and rubbed some of the tension away. “Love to. But you choose this time.”
*
Oizeri wasn’t full this time of day. They sat inside the Greek restaurant and when Giacobbe tried to order a bottle of wine, Marco told him that he didn’t want any for himself and instead asked for water. Giacobbe only paused briefly before changing his order to a half-carafe. When it came time, Marco ordered the tender Feta Lamb, while Giacobbe ordered the Bifteki. Over the meal, Marco explained what Renzo had discovered about the behavioral changes of the test group.
Giacobbe was more grumpy than usual at the news. “Great! That’s all we need.”
Marco, however, was now feeling more sanguine about the whole thing. “All projects have variables that are unknown. We’ll work through this.”
“Probably,” Giacobbe said with a wave of his hand. He took a drink. “That’s not what’s bothering me anyway. Not really. I’m just irritated with Rasini.”
“The Prime Minister?” Marco smiled at his friend. Giacobbe hated Rasini. “Alright. What did he do this time?”
“Ahhhh,” Giacobbe said irritably. “You know the man. So
Marco winced sympathetically. “Yeah, that’s bad
“It’s not enough that he has committed
Marco was quiet for a moment, thinking. Giacobbe was right. He didn’t necessarily disagree with Rasini’s Italy-first stances or his hard line policies. But that didn’t mean Rasini wasn’t hurting how
But gesticulating wildly and loudly was not going to fix things either. “Calm down, Giacobbe. I agree with you. But you’re going to give yourself a heart attack.” He added, innocently, “And doing that in a Greek restaurant won’t make
Giacobbe held his glare for a moment, and then a smile broke through. “I know. It’s just-“
“You don’t have to explain to me. I agree with you, as I said. I don’t believe, like you do, that his hard-line stances are necessarily wrong. But I do think he is unnecessarily alienating those who might be our friends and allies. And he makes us look bad.”
Giacobbe eyed him for a moment, then asked, “Really? When did you succumb to nationalism? You’ve never expressed support for Rasini before.”
“It’s not something so small as nationalism, Giacobbe.
“Better armies, of course,” said Giacobbe, offhandedly.
“No, not better armies. Or at least, not just that.” Marco wanted to explain this, to help Giacobbe see
Giacobbe rolled his eyes. “I don’t know that the Gauls and Iberians would have agreed with you. Their culture was so obliterated that even today we have a hard time reconstructing what their society was like before
Marco dismissed that with a gesture. “They were better off after
Giacobbe looked at him strangely. “What’s with you, Marco? I’ve never seen you talk like this.”
“What do you mean?” Marco felt irritated. “Because before I was too timid to ever speak up for myself or to take a chance?” He took a drink of his water. “People change,” he said simply. “Nations change.” He leaned forward and spoke with passion. “Look at us, Giacobbe. Not you and me.
Giacobbe interrupted. “I thought it was Greek culture.”
Marco waved that off. “The Greeks were staid-at-home thinkers. They were plodders. After Alexander the Great, Greek rulership dwindled. How long did the Greeks rule in
Giacobbe interrupted. “Now hold on, Marco, hold on! Come on! For every benefit you cite, thousands died in needless battles. Slavery was a way of life for millions. Women were treated as property. Don’t tell me they were all happy.”
“Maybe they were,” Marco said offhandedly. “Being a slave in a Roman household was easier that living in the chaos and wild the way they had been. And those who died fighting
Giacobbe stared him like he had never seen Marco before. “I have to tell you, Marco, that this offends me. I don’t like this. I couldn’t disagree with you more. I…,” he stopped, searching for the right words. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
Marco simply looked at him. “Then don’t. I didn’t ask you to agree with me.” He blew out irritably. “You people in this time. You think you are so civilized, so advanced and immune to normal human emotions and needs. Look around, Giacobbe. You’re not. None of you. The same chaos and anarchy exists. The same dictators, the same tyrants, the same selfish human emotions. Nothing has changed, except for the thin veneer of civilization that covers everything and makes you all think that you are all so superior and different. All it will take is one big thing to go wrong- one major catastrophe- and that veneer will be stripped away to reveal the ugly truth about people. Do you think we are immune to demagogues? Look at the world! Gods above, Giacobbe, people riot and kill on the say so of a local religious leader because of cartoons! People flounder, desperate and hungry. Not for food. For meaning, to belong to something bigger than themselves, something they can believe in. And so they accept whoever is able to fill that need. And their pointless drivel.” He paused, looking at his friend. This was his friend, after all. His voice got quiet. “The world is what it is, Giacobbe. It will always be that way. Because we are who we are: humans. And civilizations come and go. Do you think
Giacobbe couldn’t help himself. “I didn’t know you were a closet American lover?”
“No, Giacobbe, No. I am an Italian. What do I care of the greatness of another people when my own nation has become a nation of women? When we subsume our greatness in yet another meaningless bureaucracy like the EU?” His voice became earnest and powerful. “I tell you, Giacobbe, this nation- this entire continent - is hungry and desperate for a real leader. For someone to unite them, to reignite them, to show them the glory they have in them. To give vision and impose order, for the benefit of all!”
Giacobbe saw his chance. “Like Hitler? Look what happened when glory and nationalism become the overriding concern.”
Marco laughed derisively. “Hitler was a fool.
Giacobbe was quiet, seemingly stunned. “I don’t know what to say, Marco.” He looked around helplessly. “I mean, I guess I can see part of what you’re saying. But I don’t- I - I can’t agree with the idea that conquest and empire and nationalism is a good thing.” He stopped, then began again hesitantly. “Perhaps if... people voluntarily joined such an ideal…if it existed- well, then maybe…But it doesn’t, Marco. And the only way to create it is to run roughshod over so many others…” He trailed off.
The waitress brought the check. Marco gave her an appreciating look that wasn’t at all subtle and she returned it with one of her own. When she left, they both were quiet. Then he said, “Let me, Giacobbe. My way of making up for your discomfort during lunch.”
They returned to the office in silence. Giacobbe was too shaken for words, it appeared. Marco, for his part, was content to let the silence linger. But Marco knew he had made some headway. People today seemed to think they were so intelligent and immune to human appeals. But he knew how the world worked, and what people were hungry for. If anything, they were more hungry today for things to believe in, than in the past. Whatever you wanted to call it: Religion, nationalism, tribalism, patriotism, family loyalty, even membership in clubs or to a community- even the community of intellectuals that had grown up around the world that considered themselves so progressive- they all filled the same human need to belong and to believe in something. But the institutions of today were so much weaker, because of disillusionment and mistrust, or because they required so little of their members that nobody felt they were special for belonging. And people held allegiance to so many communities and groups, that the ability of these groups to fill those needs was diluted. Like a pie that was divided up among so many, very few were satisfied. And so everyone remained hungry.
But that would change, one day. He knew it would. And not with fools like Rasini. Nor the European Union or United Nations, either. But it would change.
*
Once they got back to the office, Marco found the NRIs he’d ordered were finished. He began his analysis, trying to locate all the expected memory structures. The search took hours, but he found them all. The missing orderings were scattered all over the subject brains. He thought about that for a moment. Well, that explained the weakened synchronization signals. They were already at a very low level to begin with, to minimize interference with normal brain functions and because the area the nanites were expected to act in was very small. But in these test cases, the nanites had roamed much further from their area than expected. They managed to stay synchronized, but just barely at their operational limit.
So what was going on? Was this merely a nanite error that caused them to go far afield and write the structures outside the intended area, or was their more to it? He suspected the latter. A number of things came together in his mind, giving him an idea. A suspicion, at least. He needed to see Renzo.
He got up from his desk and headed out the door- and almost ran into Alessandra.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” he said.
Alessandra seemed a bit flustered. “That’s ok, Marco. I just- well, I just wanted to come by and see you.”
“That’s nice. Unfortunately, I have to see Renzo about something.” He paused for a moment, looking down the hall. Yeah, this would be a good time. He turned to face her, giving her his complete attention. “Actually, though, if you’re not doing anything tomorrow night, we could have dinner.”
Her face lit up. “That would be wonderful, Marco.”
“Well good,” he said, casually. “I look forward to tomorrow night.” He looked at his watch. “Well, I have to get going.” He was about to go, when he thought of something else. “By the way, has Gian Carlo been acting strange lately?”
“Strange? A little, I guess.” She paused, uncertain. “I don’t want to get him in trouble, but I’d say he’s been more nervous than usual, anyway.” She laughed a bit and added, “And I think been looking at stuff he shouldn’t. Like last week, we were working late and he jumped every time I went by his computer. Then he immediately changed the screens he was on.” She chuckled a bit. “He was pretty quick, too. The couple times I saw his panel he had already put up the nanite programming screen.”
“Alright. Thank you. Well, have to go. But I look forward to tomorrow.” He smiled at her and then went down the hall. Once he turned the corner, his smile faded. It was important that he talk to Renzo.
Marco pushed open the door to the lab and found Renzo hunched over his keyboard typing. He looked up and smiled.
“Marco. What a coincidence. I was just writing you an email.”
“Ah, so you found something?”
“Well, the behavioral changes I mentioned to you earlier have become more pronounced.”
“Let me guess. All the primates begun exhibiting lower-rung male behaviors?”
Renzo looked surprised. “Yes, that is exactly what has happened. Remember I mentioned before how the behaviors seemed confused, alternating between the normal social interaction and more submissive? Well, the confusion has pretty much gone away. But they all now behave in a submissive manner.”
Marco thought about this. “Do you have any ideas as to why?”
“Well obviously I’m not a neuroscientist. I’m a zoologist. So anything I say is speculation.”
“You know these chimps better than anyone else, Renzo. What do you think?”
“It’s possible the ordering process suppresses their natural aggression. I mean, it makes sense. How else do you explain all the chimps behaving as lower-rung males, regardless of where they stood before?”
How else indeed, thought Marco. “Well, this concerns me. Naturally, if such an effect always occurs after reordering, we will not be able to use this technique.” He frowned. “The next step, then, is to determine if this was a flaw in the DNA-memory encoding of the source chimp.”
“Makes sense to me. Let me know if I can do anything.” Renzo took a breath. “I’m not sure I like this either. Truth is, their behavior kind of freaks me out. They’re all acting the same. It’s disturbing.”
“Well, I’ll let you know when we’re ready for another test. Thanks, Renzo.” Marco went back to his office to do some thinking. For some reason, a thread of fear pulsed in the back of his mind. But he couldn’t figure out why. Something frightened him, and he did not think it had just to do with the future of this project.
He pulled up the NRIs again, for each subject. In host after host, the same new structures presented themselves. The primate brain was much more complicated than that of rodents. It was possible that this kind of behavioral change was simply not noticeable in the rats because one rat was much like another. But complex social creatures like primates were another issue entirely.
Could it be that more than simply memory information was encoded? The idea intrigued him. He called Renzo’s office. “Listen, I just have a quick question. How would you describe the source chimp, socially?”
Renzo was quiet for a moment. “My Go… I never thought of that! I would describe him exactly as I have described the...the hosts.” He sounded nervous. “I need to check a few things, Marco. Let me get back to you.”
Marco knew what the results would be. He knew it. They would have to run more tests. Choose primates at different social levels, or those with other specifically identifiable behaviors, and then do the orderings. But he knew what they’d find.
He felt like his entire world was crashing down.
It wasn’t just memories being encoded. It was the entire personality. It didn’t matter why it happened. It was enough that it occurred.
So what did that mean for him? And for Giacobbe and their project? Obviously, nobody would use this technique if the same thing happened in humans. Again, he knew that the same effect would occur in people, though obviously that was something they would never actually be able to put to the test.
“Excuse me, Dr. Masceti.”
Marco looked up and saw Enrico Franco standing hesitantly in his doorway.
“Yes, what is it, Enrico?”
“I just wanted to let you know that I finished a detailed analysis of the nanite logs and know why the synchronization signals were weaker.”
“Yes, I already know what the cause was. The nanites were spread throughout the host brains and the signal is usually localized over a very small area.”
Enrico’s face took on a sickly smile. He spoke softly. “That was my conclusion as well.” His voice took on some strength, but it seemed forced. “I’m sure it was an error. Probably a problem in the programming.” He tried to laugh, but it was weak. “You know how scatterbrained the programmers are.”
“No, that’s not the cause, Enrico. Come in,” he gestured to a chair in front of his desk. “Close the door and sit down.” Enrico obediently shut the door and then proceeded to sit down.
Marco sat for a moment, looking at him over steepled fingers. Finally, he spoke. “I know you and Gian Carlo have been doing some work on the side. I want to know what it is.”
Enrico looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Ah, I’m not sure what you mean.”
Marco stayed silent and just waited. Enrico began to fidget a bit more. “Uh. That is.” He looked like he was trying to figure out what to say. In the end, he just sat there, unable or unwilling to say anything.
Marco leaned forward and started talking. “Alright. Here’s what I know. It turns out that memories are not the only thing stored in the adjacency matrices. I suspect it’s the entire personality, though we don’t have full proof of that just yet. So we have an entire batch of primates all behaving like the source of the memories.” Enrico’s eyes widened in surprise. “I know you put Gian Carlo up to reprogramming some nanites. However, in view of what we have just discovered, clearly the risks are substantially greater than suspected. So I need to know what you are working on…”
He trailed off. Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “Michele Bruno. He found something, didn’t he?” Enrico’s face turned white. Now it made sense. “I see. He found some preserved ancient DNA, and you reconstituted it.” His eyes narrowed. “And you couldn’t resist, could you? You decided to try to recreate the memories of that ancient person.” Enrico flinched, his eyes wide. “What were you going to do? Test it on a primate? Or…No. You went further.” Marco’s voice hardened. “Were you planning to reorder the brain of a homeless person? A gypsy?” Marco stood up angrily.
Enrico said nothing, but the fear was plain on his face, in the way his body hunched in on itself.
Marco started walking for the door. Enrico lurched out of his chair, attempting to grab him. Without thinking, Marco spun around with an open handed jab just under his ribcage. Enrico sputtered, trying to breathe. “You’re done, Enrico. Gian Carlo will talk. Testing on humans!?,” he spat. “You are going to prison.”
Enrico tried to get his attention. His voice came out as a whisper. “No! Marco. Listen to me.” He sucked in breath. “It was an accident. You weren’t meant to be the test. Gian Carlo…”
Marco stood there, shocked. He was staring at Enrico, but saw nothing. Me? It was me? He grabbed Enrico by the throat, his eyes boring into him. “When? Whose memories, Enrico? Whose memories do I have!?”
Enrico’s mouth worked but nothing came out. Marco realized that he was choking Enrico. He loosened his grip. His voice was steely quiet. “I will kill you if you don’t tell me now.”
The fear in Enrico’s eyes was all he could see. At last, his voice came out hoarsely. “Caesar. The Dictator.”
Marco’s hand fell away and he stepped back. All he could say was, “How?”
Enrico whispered, “Michele found his hand. In
Marco just stood there, transfixed. It was true. He knew it. It was true.
And with that realization, a barrier in his mind broke and memories flooded into his consciousness. His childhood in the Subura. His years as Flamen Dialis, priest of Jupiter Optimus Maximus. His talks with Gaius Marius. That meeting with Sulla. His mother. His wives. His precious daughter, stolen by death. The battles he’d fought and generaled and won. His many women, his campaigns, his accolades.
The shock melted away. He stood there, a man dead for over two thousand years.
And he was not afraid. He was alive, not dead. He did not remember death, not his own anyway. But he knew it had happened. And now he was alive again.
“I am Caesar.” The voice was different than he remembered. He was shorter than before, too. But his mind was the same, his animas the same, his ambition the same, too. The old self, the old person who had used this body, Marco, was just a voice now, a well for him to dip into at need, a library of information for living in this time. Sad. But it couldn’t be helped. It would be a dignified sacrifice, he decided, one that would be meaningful. He would see to that, in Marco’s honor.
He was himself, Caesar. He stood there, immersed in this rebirth.
“I am Gaius Julius Caesar,” he said again, more strongly.
Enrico’s face took on a look of horror. “Marco-”
“Marco is gone,” Caesar said impassively. “I am Caesar.”
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