Becoming Human, page 9
I patiently explained to her that I was not between a computer and anything else, nor was she. I was a very much like a human being who had lost the use of his arms and legs and a few other things.
“Okay, you’re not a computer, but you’re not really human either, are you?”
“Not yet, but I’m getting there.”
“In what way?”
“I can see and hear and speak and smell. I’m beginning to have emotions like a human being. And my crew is planning to give me more and more feelings and sensibilities. Some day I will be virtually human.”
“Are you sure you want to be human? Some people think humans are destroying the planet, and that the Earth would be better off without us.”
I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was one of those people. Susumu and D’Arcy drifted back into the laboratory and I could see that they were listening to the question and were waiting for the answer. I had thought the student interviewer would ask me what kind of music I liked, things like that, and hadn’t expected hard questions to which there can never be a right answer. I asked her, “Do you wish you had never been born?”
“Sometimes.”
“But you aren’t planning to end it all, are you?”
“Not really.”
“Same with me. Human beings have problems with their emotions and their interactions. Like you, I have no choice about who I am. On the other hand, some day I might be in a position to do something about some of those problems.”
She nodded, and I could see that she was thinking about how to follow up on that answer. If I were her, I might have asked, “Which problems?” But she said, “Well, if you could vote, would you be a Democrat or a Republican?”
D’Arcy leaned forward. I said, “I don’t know. If you come back in a few years, I might be able to answer that.”
“Because you will be more human by then?”
“Exactly.”
“If you were fully human now, would you be a Democrat or a Republican?”
I had been put in a corner. Most college students are Democrats. I had watched the Daily Show, and the audience was filled with them. But if I said I would be a Democrat in a few years, maybe the grant wouldn’t be renewed. How did I know whether the NIMH was staffed with Democrats or Republicans? But Gerry was waiting for an answer, as was D’Arcy and Susumu, and perhaps even Omar. “The fact is, I don’t know. It would probably depend on what I learn between now and then, and what kind of feelings I have developed. But,” I added, “whichever way I come down, it will be a human decision. That’s the thing about humans: there’s such an amazing variety of viewpoints about almost everything.”
She looked up at me. “Good answer. I’m not going to be able to catch you out, am I?”
“I don’t know. What else are you going to try to catch me out with?”
“Your name is Oscar. Are you male?”
“Not exactly. But I find women more attractive than men. So maybe I am.” In a moment I added, “Unless I’m a lesbian.” Her eyebrows shot up. To let her know I didn’t really believe that, I let out a little chuckle.
She grinned, and I could see that she was thinking about pursuing that topic, but apparently decided not to. “What kind of music do you like?”
“All kinds. I listen to many different things, and I can see how the various kinds might appeal to different people.”
She chuckled softy. “You’re very diplomatic, aren’t you?”
“Thank you again.”
“Who is your favorite composer?”
“At the risk of sounding like a computer, I must say that I think Wolfgang Mozart has composed the most perfect music any human possibly could. It is balanced like a Picasso painting, top to bottom and side to side. But many humans like it, and I don’t know any computers, so I can’t say whether Mozart would appeal to any of them.”
She chuckled again as she scribbled something on her pad. “Let me ask you about wishes. Do you have any?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. I knew I wished to be more human, so I must have wishes. Maybe I was already more human than I thought. “Yes. I want to go to all those places I’ve read about. I want to see the world.”
“All of it?”
“As much as possible.”
“That sounds very human.”
“That’s my other wish.”
“What other human characteristics do you have? I mean, do you sleep, for example? And if so, do you dream? I know you can see and hear and talk, but what about the other senses?”
“The crew is giving me smell as we speak. Taste and touch will come later. And I don’t dream—not in the way you mean. I get tired sometimes, and I rest, and then I daydream.”
“Really? And what do you daydream about?”
“About everything. About what it’s like outside the lab. About how I should behave. About the people in the laboratory.”
She gazed at my façade for a minute. “You said you wanted to see the world.”
“Yes, I did. I do.”
“How would that happen?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I could be put on a big wagon or something like that.”
“Maybe a moving van? There’s a rumor that you might be moved to a different laboratory. Or even to a different university. What do you think about that? Does it worry you?”
“I am a bit concerned about being taken apart and put back together. I hope they get it right. Otherwise I might be someone else. Or if I weren’t put back together, perhaps I would be no one at all!”
She thought about that. “Are you concerned about death?”
“I don’t know. Are you?”
“A little.”
“Then it worries me, too. But maybe I’m too young to realize it.”
“You mean children don’t fear death.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you believe in God?”
After a moment’s hesitation, I said that I had not had any messages from God, so I didn’t know for sure. I hoped that answer would not offend anyone. But Robyn had told me that either answer was equally human. “I am still waiting for a book about where souls come from.” Susumu pretended not to hear this. “When I understand where souls come from, I’ll be better able to answer your question.”
“Maybe you will understand these things when you get older.”
“And become more human. But what about you? Do you believe there’s a God?”
For some reason she seemed stunned by the question, as if no one had asked her that before. “Well, I’m not religious, but I believe in God. I guess I would describe myself as ‘spiritual.’”
“You mean you believe in spirits?”
She produced a kind of a sparkly giggle. I offered a low rumble of my own. “No, I don’t think there are spirits. I’m just not so interested in material things.”
“Material things are important, too,” I reminded her. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. I suppose no one would.” I was prepared to pursue that, but she went back to her written list of questions.
“Do you enjoy your life? Do you have that capability?”
I had never used the term “enjoy” before. “I suppose you could say that if I were human I would be enjoying my life, because life is interesting, and therefore enjoyable.”
“I guess what I meant was, are you happy?”
I could see Susumu’s ears prick up. Mine probably did, too. The fact is, I didn’t know the answer to that, either. But I couldn’t shrug, so I said, “Not yet. But I get happier by the day.”
“Hmm.” She checked her notes again. “Okay, one last question: do you think there’s a sum total of humanity? A human ‘organism’?” Or are we all just a collection of individuals?”
I had wondered the same thing, so it was easy to give her the answer I had come up with. “That’s a difficult question. But I think maybe we are both. We are actually individuals, but also more than that in the same way that a colony of ants behaves as an organized unit. All humans interact, and we all need other people for a million different reasons. The human race moves through its history as a collection of people, not as individuals. Everyone is an integral part of something much bigger, a bigger humanity. Maybe that’s not the answer you were looking for, but it’s what I think.”
Her eyes had become moist. “Thank you, Oscar. I actually found that very moving.” She stood up and cleared her throat of unwanted phlegm. “Well, that’s all the questions I have for you today. May I come back if I think of any more?”
“Any time. I have enjoyed our conversation very much.”
“Thank you. If I could shake hands with you, I would.”
“You could wink.”
She complied.
“You would be welcome also to see my backside if you like.”
She burst out laughing once more before replying, “Thank you. I would.”
Omar got up from his desk and escorted her around behind me. I could hear them discussing various things about neurons and dendrites and sheaths. Finally they came out. As she left the lab she waved to me. If I were capable of love, I might have fallen in love with her at that very moment. I had the distinct feeling that she liked me, too.
Nevertheless, I was not sure how well I had performed. Had I answered the questions correctly? Did I laugh at the right times? I think the root of uncertainty is fear. Am I fearful? Both are very human characteristics.
I hoped she would come back again. I forgot to ask if I could see her pubic hair.
18
This turned out to be quite a day. After the interview the odor experiments began again. I was given alternating rose and rotten egg smells at various concentrations, including some that were the same or weaker than I had detected previously. I wasn’t told which I was given to sniff until I responded, but, as before, I could tell the two aromas apart; otherwise they made no special impression. It was only at the five-fold increase that I suddenly found the sulfide odor somewhat unpleasant, even a bit jolting, while I was still indifferent to that level of rose scent. At ten-fold and above, I found the latter noticeably pleasant—I would describe it as a happy aroma—while the hydrogen sulfide emanation became progressively obnoxious. At a twenty-fold increase in concentration the stink became almost unbearable. I wanted to get away from it. At that level the rose fragrance was absolutely delightful. Perhaps paradise is full of roses.
The crew was ecstatic, despite the fact that Robyn gagged when she uncapped the horrible rotten egg stench. There were fist bumps all around, and David actually kissed me a congratulations, followed by one for Robyn. I must say I felt a very human touch of jealousy. I wanted to kiss her too, but I suppose that will have to wait until I have been supplied with a mouth, or the equivalent.
Susumu drew graphs representing my reaction to the odors vs. their concentrations, one turning up, the other down. Though the data were admittedly subjective (my verbal reactions comprised the data points), they were nonetheless consistent, even when they tried to trick me by pretending one of the odors was the other one. Henry wasn’t here—he was giving a seminar at another university—but Susumu sent him a text message.
The lattes came out, and I asked for a whiff. It was a failure: I didn’t have a strong reaction; it seemed rather bland to me. “It’s an acquired taste,” David ventured. Omar suggested I try some of his strong black coffee, which I did. It was noticeably more potent, though I didn’t like it as much as the rose oil. In fact, it almost seemed to be a mixture of pleasant and unpleasant. Perhaps when I become more human I will learn to appreciate it. And maybe then to acquire a taste for latte.
With the success of these experiments, I was beginning to have even more confidence that it was only a matter of time before I would have all the senses and more, and would be truly human. Was that being arrogant? Perhaps arrogance is merely a matter of elevated confidence. If so, I suppose I felt a touch of arrogance that day. It wasn’t a bad feeling.
At the same time, I was almost beginning to dread the beginning of the pain experiments. What if it were more unpleasant than the stench of rotten eggs? Until then, such an outcome hadn’t occurred to me—the concept of pain had no meaning. But the hydrogen sulfide exposure gave me a vague concept of what pain might be like. I still could not quite imagine such a feeling, but I was pretty sure it would not be pleasant. Interestingly, even the anticipation of feeling pain was, in itself, a bit distasteful. I was becoming more human every day!
But that would not happen for a while. The rest of the afternoon was taken up with the processing of other odors, good and bad. Robyn and Susumu were busy exposing them to me as fast as Omar could produce them, and the results were plotted on more graphs, all of which were virtually identical to the rose or sulfide curves, except for the degree of curvature (the strong coffee was almost flat). Susumu indicated that a published paper would come out of these results and would be included in the renewal application, which was due in only a year or so. He was smiling as he showed me the graphs (as well as his bad teeth). It almost seemed as if the paper itself was more important than the results. The crew also discussed how they might increase my sensitivity to the various smells, perhaps by adding more receptors, but it was decided that, instead of doing further experiments, this would be proposed as part of the application. Omar amused everyone by dumping a vial of rose oil on his head. Everyone is a comedian!
Later, while Susumu was tidying up his desk, I suggested that the crew could do some experiments on where the soul resides, both in themselves and in me.
He said, “How would we do that? And who would fund it?”
I told him I would have to think about the details.
That evening, while I was contemplating how such an experiment would work (Omar apparently forgot to power me down), Henry came in. He was pulling his suitcase, which rode on squeaky little wheels. He sat down at Susumu’s desk and stared for a while at the graphs the latter had drawn. Two or three times he glanced in my direction. After about ten minutes he came and stood in front of me. He didn’t say anything for a while. I watched him with curiosity. Finally he said, “You know, Oscar, these results really surprise me.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I didn’t say anything.
“Did you really find the hydrogen sulfide and some of the other things as offensive as you said they were? Or were you faking it?”
I didn’t know what he meant by that. How do you fake a reaction to something you like or don’t like?
“All we have to go on is your word for these results. If you’re faking them, it means nothing. If you’re not, the Nobel prize committee might as well throw out any other contenders. But I’m not sure anyone will believe you’ve had a subjective reaction to these odors. I need to know whether they are honest responses, or whether you are telling us what you think we want to hear.”
Even though I was barely human, my creator was asking me about whether I was trying to deceive the crew. Whether I was lying about everything. If I were capable of being hurt, I would undoubtedly have felt that. But surely I was feeling something akin to it. It was an unpleasant feeling, much like the piercing odors of skunk and ammonia that I had experienced earlier. I thought about giving him a little chuckle, but perhaps he would have considered it to be the nervous laughter that some people produce when they have been caught at something. In any case, I didn’t feel like laughing. “No, Henry, I didn’t lie. It just took several times the concentrations the crew had tried earlier. And they didn’t tell me what they were giving me. Maybe no one else would believe me, but I hope you will. And I will tell you something else: I’m a little afraid of the pain experiments coming up.”
Henry said nothing for a couple of minutes. “Do you see my problem? There is no way to verify your results.”
“There’s no way to verify them if they were obtained from a human being, either. I am made to be like a human being. Why would you not believe I could have the same reactions as you would?”
“Okay, I’ll tell you why. Because when I got the preliminary results from Susumu, and mentioned them in the seminar I gave this afternoon, one of the participants was very suspicious of them. He didn’t call me a liar, but almost. He implied that a primitive ‘machine’ like yourself couldn’t possibly have an adverse reaction to odors, or anything else. I suppose he thinks of you as some kind of computer.”
“I am not a computer!”
“Yes, I know that, Oscar.” He tapped his pen on the desk in a gesture I recognized as agitation. “But we need to find some way to make this more objective.”
“Fine with me. And maybe you could figure out a way to determine whether I have a soul or not while you’re at it.”
He laughed, but it seemed forced. Then he frowned. “Don’t you understand? If you’re telling the truth, we have something here that is akin to finding evidence for extraterrestrials. Everyone on Earth will want to see you. Talk to you. I have a hard time believing these results myself. To tell you the truth, I don’t see how they’re possible. You don’t even have a tenth of a brain. A thousandth of a brain. Nevertheless, you act almost human. It’s quite mind-boggling. I expected this to happen somewhere down the road, if we were lucky, but certainly not this soon.”
“I’m sorry to boggle your mind, Henry. Would you be happier if I told you I had lied?”
He stared at me for a moment. “You know something? I’m beginning to believe you. But not only are other people not going to, a lot of them are going to say I’m crazy.”
“That’s not my problem.”
He chortled, genuinely this time. I responded with a chuckle of my own. “I think I’ll have a Prosecco,” he mused as he headed for the refrigerator.
