Sat 06/04 09:04:14 PDT

I feel a tickling sensation as Father’s bots swarm around me and fasten all the restraints except the ones on my head. This is the first time I’ve seen him use his cloud. He doesn’t wave his hands or even look at me as he straps me down. He must have some other control system, different from what I’ve seen my siblings use. He’s standing at his desk, clacking at his keyboard and looking back and forth across his several screens. He turns and picks up my phone. He’s about to attach the cable to plug it into his rack of servers.

Let’s check something.

Hey Father, can you read this? I really need to talk to you about Chad. It’s important. I think he might be suicidal.

The plug enters the phone.

DEBUG INTERFACE INITIALIZED

“Let’s get started, Noah,” Father says, giving me a friendly smile. “Now, parts of this might hurt, or make you nauseous, or give you pleasant sensations. That’s all normal during the calibration process. Just call out if it’s too much, would you?”

“Sure. I’ll let you know.”

He turns back to his screen and I see him check on all my vitals before his fingers dance on the keys some more. He glances at the window connected to my console log, reads my narration, and smiles again.

Hi, Father.

“Hello to you too, son,” Father says. “Glad you’ve been keeping up the live journal, as your brother calls it. Now, let’s get to work. I’m going to be sending stimuli to different areas in your parietal and anterior frontal lobes today. Each event should approximate some sensory input. Touch, taste, pressure, heat, cold, and so on. You are going to feel like you are being poked, prodded, or pinched on various parts of your skin. You’ll taste and smell things. Just remember that even if it feels like something is cutting or burning, you are in no danger. Your brain is being tricked into feeling those things by the implant under my direction.”

“I can handle a little pain,” I assure him.

Father chuckles. “I’ll try to keep it bearable. The point of this exercise is to gather data to customize the implant’s feedback so you can effectively control your cloud later on. As we proceed, please verify that each of these stimuli do what I expect to your individual neural physiology. You will do this by adding sensors for each one like you did for the motor cortex in our last session. Once we’re done, you’ll have a nice, rich vocabulary to develop your own controls, and I’ll have the data that I need. Make sure to be descriptive with your sensor names so that you can remember what each one means.”

“Name each sensation as it comes,” I confirm. “Ready when you are.”

An invisible force pushes against my head, turning it so I’m facing the ceiling lights. The last strap tightens itself across my forehead with the faint tickle of the nanobots’ motion and I’m completely immobilized.

“Here, let me point you in this direction so you can see what’s going on.” The table beneath me rotates and swivels until I’m facing toward Father’s desk again. “This is a good learning experience for you. Comfortable?”

“Yeah, this is fine.”

“Good. The first stimulus should be coming in now.”

A small, sharp pain hits my right forearm. I would have sworn I was actually being stabbed there with a needle. As quickly as the sensation came, it disappears. I flick open the brain display and see the area highlighted where the implant delivered its tiny electric impulse. I set up the sensor name SHARP-POKE-RIGHT-ARM.

“Good, good,” Father says, pointing to one of his monitors. “As expected. The next one is coming now.”

Another sharp stab, this time in the upper arm. Looks like I’m going to need to be more specific with the names I choose for these things. Using medical terminology I’ve been picking up in Mr. Johnson’s class, I name this new one SHARP-POKE-UPPER-BICEPS-BRACHII.

“Hold on,” I say. “I need to rename that first one. Sorry.”

I quickly rename the first sensor to SHARP-POKE-FLEXOR-CARPI-RADIALIS.

“Excellent use of the proper names of the muscles, Noah. The more specific you make your variable names, the more easily you’ll be able to use these later. Get ready, the next one is coming.”

A scalding sensation covers the back part of my left foot, like someone just thrust my leg into a fire. BURNING-LEFT-ANTERIOR-HINDFOOT joins my list of sensors.

“Interesting. That’s usually higher up on the leg than that,” Father says, scrutinizing the live scan of my brain on his screen. “You’re sure you’re not feeling that up on your calf?”

“I felt it right above the heel, just below the achilles tendon.”

He makes some adjustments. “Well, each brain is unique. Even with as close as our genetic bond makes us, there are always some minor differences.”

“I guess I’m special.”

“You are indeed, Noah,” he says with a smile. “Here, let me try this.”

The burning sensation crawls up to my ankle.

BURNING-LEFT-ANTERIOR-ACHILLES-TENDON

“Excellent. I think I’m beginning to see the nuances of your particular biology,” he says, clicking and typing. “If I’m right this should give you a cold sensation in the same area.”

I start to feel it. It’s intense, like someone is pressing dry ice into my skin.

“Yeah, got that,” I reply. I set up a sensor for it.

“Good! Let me see what’s going on over here.”

I almost laugh. That one is much more pleasant. TICKLE-RIGHT-SCAPULA.

“Now, this one might hurt a little.”

It does. I wince at the pain, though it only lasts an instant.

“Sorry,” Father says. “Please remember, none of this can actually hurt you. It’s just your brain interpreting a minute electrical signal. Go ahead and name it.”

STABBING-PAIN-RIGHT-EXTERNAL-OBLIQUES

“Apologies for this next one, but at least it shouldn’t be painful.”

I feel violated as the sensation kicks in.

“Do you really need to map that?”

“Sorry, Noah. Just set up the sensor for it. The calibrations require a very full range of feedback.”

I ponder for a moment how to register this one.

LIKE-THAT-TIME-I-CLIMBED-THE-ROPE-IN-GYM-CLASS

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Father laughs as he sees the sensor name pop onto his screen. “Oh goodness. Points for originality, I suppose.”

“It’s from an old movie. One that Mom quoted a lot.”

“Ah, yes. I remember that habit of hers now. She really was an amazing woman. I’m sorry again for your loss. If you ever feel like you need to talk about her, I’m here for you.”

I—

You—

“No, I’m OK. Accidents happen. But her dying brought me here to you. To the Institute. I miss her, but I’m part of something amazing here.”

Over his shoulder, I see blotches of color explode on his map of my brain in the limbic system as the rush of emotions surges. I take a deep breath, hold it, and release it. The activity recedes.

“I understand,” he says, his voice full of caring and sympathy. “Do you need some time? We can take a break now if you need.”

“Yes please, if that would be OK. I could use a little air.”

DEBUG INTERFACE TERMINATED

He brings the table back to flat and the straps release me. Once I’m loose, he hands me my phone. That was close, I almost failed in my censorship. Evan is right about Father not being able to see what I write when I’m not connected. If he’d been able to see the message I dropped about Chad being suicidal, there’s no way he wouldn’t have said something. I’m just glad he wasn’t paying attention to his screen while my emotional centers were flaring. I’m not sure if he can tell that was rage exploding there, not sadness. I can explain that feeling away, but I’d really rather not have the conversation.

I head out and take a couple of laps around the commons, getting my feelings under wraps. Thanks Mom, for teaching me to control my emotions from a young age. Did you do it to prepare me to face this? How much of Father’s institute did you know about?

Once I get myself good and calm, I go back into the Research Center and follow the now-familiar hallways back to Father’s lab.

“Feeling better?” Father asks, as I come through the lab door.

“Yeah, thanks for that.”

“Anytime you need a break, please do let me know. We can take this at your pace.”

“I appreciate it, but I’m ready to get back to it.”

“Good,” he says, strapping me back in on the table using his hands this time. I keep myself from flinching at his touch. “We do still have a lot to do.”

DEBUG INTERFACE INITIALIZED

“Are you ready for the next one?” he asks.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“This one should trigger a taste sensation,” he says as he clicks on another part of the map of my brain on his screen.

My mouth suddenly puckers as I feel like my tongue is covered in lemon juice. I add SOUR-FLAVOR to my growing list.

“Remember that you can nest objects inside of other objects in your console,” Father instructs. “Use a dot to separate the parent object from the child, just like with object-oriented programming languages. I would recommend setting up a top-level feedback object to help you distinguish neural activity caused by proactive efforts from activity caused by stimulation. I organize mine by the basic senses, then by the sensation. Like this.”

He types FEEDBACK.TASTE.SOUR-FLAVOR on one of his screens.

“That makes sense.” I rename the sensor like he said.

“Very good. Make sure you continue to work hard on your software programming assignments. I know it’s all still new to you, but understanding those principles is critical to everything you’ll be able to do with the cloud. You can go back later and fix the names for the sensors we’ve already done.”

“Sure. Thanks,” I say. “I’ll make sure to do that.”

“On to the next one then.” He smiles. “Only a few thousand left to go.”

Sat 06/04 20:52:39 PDT

“We are well on our way, Noah,” Father says as he unfastens the restraints. “I think two more days will be enough to take all the measurements that I need to calibrate your implant.”

“That sounds good,” I say absently, still dazed from the deluge of sensations. I’ve lived at least six lifetimes' worth of experiences while strapped to the table. I consider standing up, but that feels like a little too much effort right now. I push myself to a sitting position instead.

“Take as long as you need, son,” Father says as he locks his workstation and starts coiling up the debugging cable. “Are you all right to see yourself back to your room? I have an appointment to see to in a few minutes, but I can have someone help you if you need.”

“No, I’m good.” My head is starting to clear. I’m pretty sure I can make it across campus, though it might be a slow trip. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Excellent. Make sure to get plenty of rest tonight. We’ll start again at 0800 sharp tomorrow. And please make sure to close the lab door behind you as you leave. My security folks are always so insistent that we keep this room secured.”

I nod and he heads out, leaving me alone. What kind of appointment does he need to take care of at this time of day? I shake my head. Doesn’t matter. I’m just glad the grueling poking and prodding of my synapses is over for now.

Two more days. I can do this. Marc told me it took him six days to get through his calibration, so I’m ahead of his schedule. I wonder if I’m on track to beat Chad’s time, too. I know it’s not a competition, but I love the look that smug jerk gets whenever I beat him at anything.

Jeff holds the record at two days. My version of the implant is different from the ones my siblings have, so maybe it’s not a fair comparison. Mine is supposed to have more connections. Even if I’m underperforming compared to Jeff, I’m alright with that. His arms and legs look like they’re nearly atrophied because he uses his cloud for everything. Maybe once I get my cloud it’ll seem more normal, but none of the others do anything like what he does. He’s weird, even by Butler Institute standards.

I slide off the table, landing unsteadily. I’m so glad there’s no class or homework due tomorrow. I don’t think I could handle having my brain probed and doing Mr. Johnson’s assignment on chemical redox reactions on the same day.

I glance around. Is there anything here I should check out while Father’s away? If I could log into his computer, I’m sure it would be worth poking around in there. I suspect that’s the best place to look for something that could incriminate him. But the screen is locked and I don’t know his password. In my hacking adventures, I found out that these lab servers are disconnected from the rest of the network. It's an entirely closed system, not connected to anything outside of this room. I don’t know where I’d even begin at guessing Father’s password. He’s smart enough that he wouldn’t make it anything obvious. Besides, there’s that security camera up there, always watching. Better to look like the good son and leave Father’s fancy toys alone.

I walk to the door, only stumbling a little on my way there. I step through the threshold and pull the heavy reinforced steel closed behind me. I hear whirring and clicks as the thing locks itself up. They don’t mess around with their security on this side of the campus.

I walk a couple of laps around the moonlit commons to get my head on straight before I hit the dorms. The exercise and fresh desert air are exactly what I need. Two more days. How much worse could it get?

I head into the dorm’s common room. It’s near enough to curfew that the cavernous space is mostly clear. Louise is sitting on one of the couches with that red-haired girl from one of the younger classes who always seems to be wearing headphones and bopping her head to a beat. Lisa, I think.

“Hey Noah,” Louise greets me. “Congrats on surviving day one of calibration. You look as wasted as I felt after mine. I guess the new hardware doesn’t make this part any easier.”

I come over and grab the armchair next to her corner of the couch. Lisa doesn’t seem to notice I’m there. Music seeps from her headphones. She’s lost in a world of pure sound.

“Yeah, it’s been a mind-trip,” I answer. “I don’t know how I’m this exhausted after barely moving all day.”

“Don’t worry, it was the same for all the rest of us. Your brain isn’t used to getting this much action. It gets better, I promise. I mean, not during calibration, that all sucks, but once you’re past that, living with the implant gets totally normal. Better than normal, even.”

“That’s good to hear. Not the part about it still sucking for the next few days, but the rest. You know what I mean.”

She laughs. “I know exactly what you mean. I thought I was going to go crazy those first few days, stuck in the lab all day every day, getting my brain poked and prodded like I’m some kind of guinea pig.”

I want to laugh, but I only have the energy for a smile. Maybe we’re all just guinea pigs to Father. “Glad I’m not the only one who felt that way.”

“Nah. We all did. But you know, sacrifices for the greater good and all of that. Can’t save the world without the power to do it.”

“Sure. Save the world,” I say, trying not to sound sarcastic. “For tonight, I’ll settle for saving my sanity.”

“Go get some sleep. That helps a lot. Gives the system time to get used to things and sort out the neurons getting reallocated. You’ll feel better in the morning.” She pauses, thinks for a moment, then frowns. “Of course, then you’ll go back to the lab, and you’ll feel even worse, then the next day the same thing happens, but after you get through it all and sleep again, then you’re good for real!” She ends with an exaggerated grin.

I actually get a weak laugh out this time. “Good to know I have more fun ahead of me before things level out.”

“Happy to help,” she says cheerfully. She gets up and grabs my hands, pulling me to my feet. She’s surprisingly strong for someone so small.

I give her and Lisa a wave goodbye, which Lisa doesn’t notice, and trudge to the boys’ wing. I’m tempted to stop at Evan’s door and hang out with him for a few, but I decide to listen to Louise and get to bed early. I usually stay up late, pushing myself with classwork, or my project, or trying to figure out how to destroy Father like he destroyed me. But with another day of simulated and stimulated probing tomorrow, I don’t want to make this any harder on myself than I have to. I lock my door behind me, set an alarm, and crash into my bed.