Numerology

Chapter 17: Rewind & Reload

Something strange happened today. I saw a number and I didn't know what to do. I was with Mr English. He had his box. I saw the number 16. It wasn't as bright as the numbers usually are but I could still see it. It was grey. Usually the numbers are bright colours the same colour for the each number. But this was grey. I am sure that 16 was not grey before.

Mr English seemed angry. Angry with the box. He pressed the buttons again and again. I saw 16; the grey 16. But I still didn't know what to do. Then he pressed another button. It was 2. As bright and as yellow as before. And I knew what to do. I went back to my room. Mr English looked puzzled as I left. He put the box down and picked up the telephone.

I have been lying on my bed. I have been thinking about number 16. It was a very odd feeling. And then another thought came into my head. I cannot say I remembered it because I do not know where it came from. All of a sudden I heard myself say, “It is possible that prolonged excitement of the cortex through induced synesthesia could result in deterioration of higher brain functions (Jacobs, pp 17-19) while others (Mayerling, Fedorova, Castle) have suggested that the effects of induced synesthesia will decay over time.”

What an extraordinary thing. Perhaps it is something I heard Dr Anna say before she became happy with the numbers. Perhaps it is something I heard Dr Waring say before… Before what? I wonder what happened to Dr Waring? How strange that I remember some things and not others. How strange that I said something like that. I really feel as though it was something that I knew really well.

I can see a 1. A big, bright, grey, 1. I wonder what it means. I still feel happy when I see the grey numbers. It's as though the numbers have decided that I have done enough tasks now. I don't need to do things any more. The grey numbers still come to comfort me but I do not have to do things any more.

I am lying on my bed. I can see an 8. It is grey. All the numbers are grey now. I am sure that the numbers used to be coloured. Then I hear myself say, “Synesthesia as a phenomenon has been observed in a number of different forms where individuals hear colours, taste shapes, or experience other sensory confusions. It is estimated that 1 in 25,000 individuals is borne with some aspect of (Cytowic, 1989, 1993). In this paper it is suggested that some forms of synesthesia can be artificially stimulated in higher mammals through electrical excitation of the frontal lobe of the cortex.” Where can that be from?

It is strange that I am seeing these things now. Strange that the numbers no longer tell me what to do. Perhaps the numbers want me to decide what to do? That would be stranger still. Imagine, not having to wait for the numbers, just knowing what to do, deciding what to do. Can that be what is happening to me?

I hear voices at the door of my room. “You know what is happening?” It is Mr French.

“I know she's not responding to the box.” Miss Scott is there too.

“Hmm, well I think I can fix it. It sounds like function decay.”

“Function decay?”

“Uh huh. It's always a good idea to read help files you know. I had a look on the lap-top that we picked up. You know the upload programme?”

“Yeah, sure. Heather was using it yesterday to give the Anna unit some more domestic tasks.”

“Well on the menu bar is a drop down labelled ‘Tools'. The answer is in there.”

I hear their voices recede as the walk away down the corridor. I remember more about Anna. She and I worked together. This was before the numbers. We worked in a big school. No, a university. She worked with Dr Waring and I worked with Dr Waring. He had been really impressed with something I'd done. I remember he was really excited. I saw him discussing it with Anna. I remember them both coming to my room. They wanted to explain something to me. They showed me some plans. I remember being very upset by their plans but I don't remember what they were. I just know that this was before the numbers.

I see an 8 again. I wish I knew what it meant. I only know that I feel tired. I only know that I want to sleep.

Chapter 18: The Right Format

Natalie is lying on the couch, naked. Straps hold her to the couch and she is trying to struggle. A Whitehead Gag has ratcheted her mouth open. Miss Scott is wearing a white coat and a surgical mask. She forces a hypodermic needle into Natalie's arm and watches as her struggles slowly subside. She is still conscious but heavily sedated.

She hears Miss Scott say. “I think we are doing this just in time. We had to force her on to the trolley. It wasn't easy. This had better work or we're really in trouble.”

Miss Scott fastens the cable from the computer to the connector at the back of Natalie's. She walks across to where Mr French is working with the computer.

“You see,” he says, calmly, “it's always worth reading the manual.” He points with the cursor at the menu bar. He clicks and the tools menu opens. There are three tabs, ‘Numbers', ‘Scripts' and ‘Target'. Under ‘Target' there are four buttons. One says ‘List'; one says ‘Defrag'; one says ‘Recharge' and one says ‘Format'. He clicks on the last button.

Natalie twitches on the couch. A message appears on the computer screen. “Target is already operating under Soft Cybernetics software. Are you sure you wish to re-format.”

Mr French clicks on ‘YES'.

Another message, “Caution : Reformat will cause loss of all scripts and numbers in the target. Upload of scripts and numbers will be required. Do you wish to proceed?”

Mr French looks at Miss Scott. “Here we go.” He clicks the button, 'YES'.

Natalie's eyes swing wide open. In spite of the gag; in spite of the sedative; she is screaming. She tries to lift herself up on the couch but the straps hold her down. The strap across her forehead ensures she cannot lift her head. The connector stays in place as the counter works its way across the screen of the computer. 15% … 25% … 50% … 75%

The computer screen says, “Format Complete – Soft Cybernetics Tools Version 1.0a ©S. Waring 2003”. Natalie is still twitching against the straps but slowly her struggles and her strangled screaming subside. The sedative takes over. Miss Scott checks the straps. Natalie's wrists and ankles are quite bruised but the straps are secure.

“Now the first numbers and scripts,” says Mr French. He presses more keys and initiates the upload. This time Natalie hardly reacts.

“Finally we have to re-charge,” says Mr. French. “Look here.” he says pointing to an x-ray photograph hanging on a light box on the wall of the room. The x-ray is of a human skull, Natalie's skull. The connector is clearly visible as an opaque block at the nape of the neck. In front of it another opaque block, the receiver. And from the receiver thin lines stretch out through the brain into the frontal lobe of the cortex, the wires that carry the signals. “This is the receiver and this is the emitter,” says French. “They're right behind the connector but their batteries only gets recharged when the cable is connected. We haven't uploaded or modified numbers for a while so the batteries in the receiver and the emitter are low. See, here.” He points to the screen of the computer.

Miss Scott is looking at the panel labelled ‘Receiver Power Status'. It is flashing red. A message says ‘Low Power – Warning – Signal Reception or Command Interpretation May Be Impaired.' Mr French clicks on a button. The message changes to “Charging”. Miss Scott checks the straps that hold Natalie to the couch. She removes the gag. Natalie is quiet now.

“We'd better run the others through this before they hit the same problem,” Miss Scott says.

They leave Natalie, resting sedated, the cable still connected, the message still flashing “Charging” on the screen.

Chapter 19: Recycling

I see numbers in my head. And I know what they mean. Some people can hear colours. I see numbers. Suddenly. A seven. Or a four. And I know what they mean.

There aren't many numbers. Only zero to nineteen. But I see them. Bright; sudden; there in my mind; blotting out everything else.

I haven't always been able to do this. It is new for me. Not long ago I couldn't see the numbers but now I can. I don't remember many things from before I came here but I do know I couldn't see the numbers.

I can see a one. It's green. It's very bright. I know I have to find him. He is somewhere in the house and I have to find him. Where ever he is I have to go there. That's what it means when I see the one.

I find him on the patio. Mr English is with Miss Scott and four other women. Three of them are wearing black shiny jumpsuits. They are wearing ski-masks that cover their faces; all except for their eyes - their blank, passionless eyes. The fourth woman is wearing white. Perhaps she is another doctor come to help us with our numbers. She doesn't say anything. Tape covers her mouth. Ropes hold her wrists and arms. She is struggling but one of the masked women holds her tightly. Miss Scott is holding a box. She presses a button and the three take off their masks. It is Crystal and Alice and Suzanne.

Mr English asks Miss Scott, “How did it go?”

“Very neat,” she answers. “Blanik did a good job on the scripts. It's quite scary to watch these three going through their paces in unison but it definitely works. They did the whole snatch pretty much solo. They jumped the doctor here, left two nurses trussed up and got the doc back to the van in ninety seconds. I didn't have to touch the box at all after I gave them the go code. I could have just sat in the van.”

Mr English seems pleased. “So, no problems like the Waring event?”

“There will always be a risk,” Miss Scott replies. “You cannot programme everything and they are only human after all. They didn't get any resistance, either. Everyone was terrified by them. Still, based on this trip, I reckon we won't have any problem equipping ourselves with new units. We just need the doctor to play her part.”

The doctor doesn't look as though she is looking forward to this. Mr English picks up his box. I see 51. I am so happy to see the numbers, the bright, big numbers. She struggles to break free. Mr English grabs hold of her. He tells her that she had better cooperate. Her white coat and her blouse get torn. I think I see what must have happened to Heather's blouse, now. Mr English seems to like the fact that the Doctor's blouse is torn. He tells her that he has lots of friends who will want to take turns with her. She tries to struggle some more. The others look on.

I have to take the doctor to her cell. She does not want to come but I have to make her. If I did not I wouldn't be doing what the numbers tell me and then I couldn't be happy. Surely the doctor would want me to be happy?

It is a little later. I can see a one. It's green. It's very bright. I know I have to find him. It makes me so happy when I see the numbers, so happy that they are so bright.

I find him in his study. He is with another man I have not seen before. He smiles as I arrive and turns to the man. “Well what do you think?”

The man says, “You've solved the problem that you thought you had then?”

Mr English shrugs his shoulders. “It wasn't too hard. Fortunately Waring did a good job on documentation. We sorted it out and we picked up a useful little programmer from the Boulder campus. She's able to programme scripts but she needs a lot of encouragement. I've got some other resources I can call on to replace her.”

“And further units?” the man asks.

“Not quite so easy but we'll have it cracked soon. The neurosurgery skills are not easy to come by although the procedure itself is apparently straight forward. Waring didn't have very complex facilities in back in the UK or in Colorado and we can replicate those. We've managed to find a competent surgeon and she has joined us now. It's just down to how quickly we can get her working.”

He is holding the control box. He presses keys I see “18” pure and silver. I have to fetch something. “Bring us two glasses of wine” he says and I know what I have to do. It is so good to do what the numbers ask of me. I am so happy when I see the numbers, so happy when I do what they say.

I pass them their wine. Mr English passes the box across to the other man. “Here, you've paid for this,” he says. “You might as well start now.” He presses a button. I see a zero, a pale, beige zero. I must smile and recite. “About: Soft Cybernetics Software Version 1.63 : Scripts Version 2.5 : Variant - Utility Unit”.

The man turns to Mr English. “Utility unit?” he says. “I thought this was a pleasure unit.”

“That's OK we can easily update the scripts.”

“Ha!” He responds. “That's always the way these days. I might have known that with a pirate like you, I'd need a patch!”

The two men are laughing. I wonder why? They seem happy. Perhaps they can see the numbers too.

+++++ THE END +++++