Factoring Humanity Part 10

"What're you talking about? I've got lots of the background stuff-models, blueprints, tech manuals; I was quite a Trekker right up through my university years. I've never seen such attempts at making things consistent."

"Yeah, but they ignored stuff all the time."

"Like what?"

"Well, let's see. What's your single favorite incarnation of Trek?" Trek?"

"I dunno. The movie Wrath of Khan, Wrath of Khan, I suppose." I suppose."

"Good choice. That's Ricardo Montalban's real chest, you know."

"No way," said Kyle.

"It is, honest. Great pecs for a man his age. Anyway, let's set aside the obvious stuff-like Khan recognizing Chekov, even though Chekov wasn't in the TV series at the time that Khan was introduced. No, let's poke holes in your vaunted tech manuals. On the upper and lower faces of the movie Enterprise's Enterprise's saucer section, there are little yellow patches near the rim. The blueprints say those are att.i.tude-control thrusters. Well, near the end of the film, Shatner orders the s.h.i.+p to drop 'zee minus ten thousand meters'-G.o.d, I hate to hear a good Canadian boy saying 'zee' instead of 'zed.' Anyway, the s.h.i.+p does just that-but the thrusters never light up." saucer section, there are little yellow patches near the rim. The blueprints say those are att.i.tude-control thrusters. Well, near the end of the film, Shatner orders the s.h.i.+p to drop 'zee minus ten thousand meters'-G.o.d, I hate to hear a good Canadian boy saying 'zee' instead of 'zed.' Anyway, the s.h.i.+p does just that-but the thrusters never light up."

"Oh, I'm sure they wouldn't make a mistake like that," said Kyle. "They were very careful."

"Check it yourself. Do you have the chip?"

"Yeah, my daughter Mary gave me a boxed set of the original Trek Trek films a few years ago for Christmas." films a few years ago for Christmas."

"Go ahead, check. You'll see."

The next day-Tuesday, August 1, 2017-Kyle called Heather and got her permission to come by the house that night.

When he arrived, Heather let him in. He went straight to the living room and started scanning the bookshelves.

"What on earth are you looking for?" asked Heather.

"My copy of Star Trek II." Star Trek II."

"Is that the one with the whales?"

"No, that's IV-II IV-II is the one with Khan." is the one with Khan."

"Oh, yeah." Heather held her fist in front of her face, as if gripping a communicator, and shouted in her best imitation of William Shatner, "Khannnnn!" "Khannnnn!" She pointed. "It's in the bookcase over there." She pointed. "It's in the bookcase over there."

Kyle sprinted across the room and found the DVC he was looking for. "Do you mind?" he said, indicating the TV hanging on the wall. Heather shook her head, and he slipped the chip into the player, then sat down on the couch opposite the screen. He found the remote and jammed his finger against the fast-forward b.u.t.ton.

"What are you looking for?" asked Heather.

"This guy I know in Anthropology said there's a mistake in the film: a shot where some thrusters should be firing but they don't actually light up."

Heather smiled indulgently. "Let me get this straight. You bought that bit about the Genesis Wave that can turn a lifeless hunk of rock into a fully formed ecosystem in a matter of hours, but you're bothered by whether the thrusters thrusters light up?" light up?"

"Shh," said Kyle. "We're almost there." said Kyle. "We're almost there."

The bridge doors hiss open. Chekov walks in, with a bandage on his ear. The crew looks at him precisely the way you should look at someone who recently had an alien parasite crawl out of his head. He takes the weapons station. The pan following Chekov reveals Uhura, Sulu, Saavik, Kirk, and Spock-all wearing those red serge uniforms that make them look like Mounties. Kirk leaves his central chair and moves over to Spock's station. They're being pursued through the Mutara nebula by Khan Noonien Singh, who has hijacked a Federation stars.h.i.+p.

"He won't break off now," says Kirk, looking at the main viewscreen, filled with static caused by the nebula. "He followed me this far. He'll be back. But from where?"

Spock looks up from his scanner. "He's intelligent, but not experienced. His pattern indicates two-dimensional thinking." He raises his upswept eyebrows as he says "two dimensional," and he and Kirk exchange a meaningful glance, then a tight little grin appears on Kirk's face. He moves back to his command chair and points at Sulu. "Full stop."

Sulu touches controls. "Full stop, sir."

Kirk to Sulu: "Zee minus ten thousand meters." And to Chekov: "Stand by photon torpedoes."

And there it was: a shot from directly above, looking down on the Enterprise. Enterprise. Kyle had always admired the way the s.h.i.+ps in the cla.s.sic Kyle had always admired the way the s.h.i.+ps in the cla.s.sic Star Trek Star Trek movies were self-illuminating-a spotlight from the central, raised part of the saucer was lighting up the registration number NCC-1701. Directly beneath the s.h.i.+p was a swirling purple-and-pink maelstrom, part of the Mutara nebula. movies were self-illuminating-a spotlight from the central, raised part of the saucer was lighting up the registration number NCC-1701. Directly beneath the s.h.i.+p was a swirling purple-and-pink maelstrom, part of the Mutara nebula.

For a second, Kyle thought Stone had been wrong-there were were lights flas.h.i.+ng on the edge of the saucer. But they were precisely positioned at the bow and directly to port: running lights. The starboard one wasn't working, which Kyle thought lights flas.h.i.+ng on the edge of the saucer. But they were precisely positioned at the bow and directly to port: running lights. The starboard one wasn't working, which Kyle thought was was admirable attention to detail, since that side of the s.h.i.+p had been damaged earlier in battle. admirable attention to detail, since that side of the s.h.i.+p had been damaged earlier in battle.

But-d.a.m.n, Stone was right. The four cl.u.s.ters of ACS thrusters were clearly visible on the upper surface of the saucer section, each one offset forty-five degrees from the center line. And they weren't firing at all.

If his original set of Pocket Books' Star Trek: The Motion Picture Star Trek: The Motion Picture blueprints wasn't worth twelve hundred bucks on the collector's market, why, he'd demand his money back. blueprints wasn't worth twelve hundred bucks on the collector's market, why, he'd demand his money back.

Heather was leaning against the wall, watching Kyle as he watched the movie. She was amused by it all. Her husband, she knew, thought that William Shatner was a marvelous actor-there was something endearing about Kyle's utter lack of taste. Then again, she thought, he also thinks I'm I'm beautiful. One shouldn't be too quick to elevate another's standards. beautiful. One shouldn't be too quick to elevate another's standards.

She'd been drinking white wine while Kyle watched the movie through to the end.

"I always liked Khan," said Heather with a smile, moving now to sit on the couch. "A guy who goes absolutely nuts when his wife dies-just the way it should be."

Kyle smiled back at her.

He'd lived on his own for a year now, but it was never supposed to be permanent. Just for a few weeks; give them each some s.p.a.ce, some time, some privacy.

And then suddenly, Becky, too, had moved out.

And Heather was alone.

And, somehow, there seemed to be less drawing Kyle back-less a sense that the family had to be restored.

The family-it had never even had a name. It wasn't the Graveses; it wasn't the Davises. It had just been. been.

Heather looked now at Kyle, the wine having warmed her. She did love him. It had never been like that romp with Josh Huneker. With Kyle, it had always been deeper, more important, more satisfying on a dozen different levels. Even if he was, in so many ways, still just a little boy-his fondness for Star Trek Star Trek and a million other things simultaneously amusing her and melting her heart. and a million other things simultaneously amusing her and melting her heart.

She reached out, put her hand on top of his.

And he responded, placing his other hand on top of hers.

He smiled.

She smiled.

And they leaned together in a kiss.

There had been perfunctory kisses over the past year, but this one lingered. Their tongues touched.

The lights had dimmed automatically when the wall TV had been turned on. Kyle and Heather moved even closer together.

It was like old times. They kissed some more, then he nibbled on her earlobe and ran his tongue around the curves of her ear.

And then his hand found her breast, rolling her nipple through the fabric of her s.h.i.+rt between thumb and forefinger.

She felt warm-the wine, the pent-up desire, the summer's night.

His hand wandered down, flittering across her belly, sliding along her thigh toward her crotch.

Just like it had so many times before.

Suddenly she tensed, the muscles in her thighs bunching.

Kyle lifted his hand. "What's wrong?"

She looked into his eyes.

If only she could know. If only she could know for sure.

She dropped her gaze.

Kyle sighed. "I guess I should be going," he said.

Heather closed her eyes and didn't stop him from leaving.

12.

It was one of those moments of hazy semiconsciousness. Heather was dreaming-and knew knew that she was dreaming. And, like a good Jungian, she was trying to interpret the dream as it went along. that she was dreaming. And, like a good Jungian, she was trying to interpret the dream as it went along.

There was a cross in the dream. That in itself was unusual; Heather wasn't given to religious symbolism.

But it wasn't a wooden cross; rather, it was made of crystal. And it wasn't a practical rendition-you couldn't actually crucify a man on it. The arms were much, much thicker than they needed to be, and were rather stubby.

As she watched, the crystal cross began to rotate around its long axis. But as soon as it did so, it became apparent that it wasn't really a cross. In addition to the protrusion at either side, there were identical protrusions front and back.

Her perspective was moving closer. She could see seams now; the object was made up of eight transparent cubes: a stack of them four high, and then four more arranged around the faces of the third cube from the top. It spun faster and faster, light glinting off its gla.s.sy surface.

An unfolded hypercube.

And, as she came even closer, she heard a voice.

Deep, masculine, resonant.

A strong voice.

The voice of G.o.d?

No, no-a superior being, but not G.o.d.

Her pattern suggests three-dimensional thinking.

Heather woke up, covered with sweat.

Spock, of course, had said his his pattern in the film, referring to Khan. The "her"-well it had to be Heather, didn't it? pattern in the film, referring to Khan. The "her"-well it had to be Heather, didn't it?

Khan had been missing something-missing the obvious. Missing the fact that s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps could go up and down as well as left and right or forward and backward. Heather had been missing something obvious, too, apparently-and her subconscious was trying to tell her that.

But as she lay there in bed, alone, she couldn't figure out what.

"Good morning, Cheetah."

"Good morning, Dr. Graves. You didn't put me in suspend mode when you left yesterday; I took advantage of the time to do some online research, and I have some questions for you."

Kyle headed over to the coffeemaker and set it about its business, then sat down in front of Cheetah's console. "Oh?"

"I've been going through old news stories. I find that most electronic versions of newspapers only go back to some date in the nineteen-eighties or nineties."

"Why should you care about decades-old news? It ain't news if it's old."

"That was intended as a humorous comment, wasn't it, Dr. Graves?"

Kyle grunted. "Yes."

"I could tell by your use of the word 'ain't.' You only use it when you're trying to be funny."

"Trust me, Cheetah, if you were human, you'd be rolling in the aisle."

"And when you speak in a high tone like that, I know you're still being funny."

"Full marks. But you still haven't told me why you're reading old news stories."

"You consider me to be non-human because, among other things, I can't make ethical judgments that correspond to those a human would make. I have been looking for news stories that relate to ethical issues and am trying to fathom what a real human would do under such circ.u.mstances."

"Okay," said Kyle. "What story did you dig up that's got you perplexed?"

"This: in nineteen eighty-five, a nineteen-year-old woman named Kathy was in her first year at Cornell University. On December twenty of that year, she was driving her boyfriend to his job at a grocery store in Ithaca, New York. The car hit a patch of ice, skidded ten meters, and slammed into a tree. The young man broke some bones, but a tire lying on the rear pa.s.senger seat pitched forward and hit Kathy's head. She fell into a chronic vegetative state-essentially a coma-and was placed in the Westfall Healthcare Center in Brighton, New York. A decade later, in January, nineteen ninety-six, with her still in the coma, it was discovered that Kathy was pregnant."

"How could she possibly be pregnant?" said Kyle.

"And that that is the tone you use when speaking to me of matters of s.e.xuality. You think that because I am a simulation that I could have no sophistication in such areas. But it's you who are being naive, Dr. Graves. The young woman was pregnant-indeed, had been pregnant for five months at the time it was discovered-because she had been raped." is the tone you use when speaking to me of matters of s.e.xuality. You think that because I am a simulation that I could have no sophistication in such areas. But it's you who are being naive, Dr. Graves. The young woman was pregnant-indeed, had been pregnant for five months at the time it was discovered-because she had been raped."

Kyle slumped slightly in his chair. "Oh."

"The police launched a search for the rapist," said Cheetah. "They came up with a list of seventy-five men who had had access to Kathy's room, but the search quickly narrowed to a fifty-two-year-old certified nurse's aide named John L. Horace. Horace had been fired three months previously for fondling a forty-nine-year-old multiple-sclerosis patient at Westfall. He refused to provide a DNA sample in the rape case, but police got some from an envelope flap and a stamp he had licked, and they determined that the odds were more than a hundred million to one in favor of Horace being the father."