Part 7 (1/2)
And beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was the man who had just come to Les King's room to purchase a glossy of himself for ten dollars. No wonder the sight of that stranger had nagged at Les. He'd seen that face before.
”Now just what in the h.e.l.l have we got here?” Les mused. Something definitely worth looking into, that was for sure.
He reached for his pants.
4
Dr. Rudolph Entman, one of the world's foremost neurologists, stripped off his rubber gloves and scowled at the strange body that lay on the table before him.
”G.o.dd.a.m.n it,” he fumed, ”it's artificially constructed. It's been hand-made--manufactured. And there's one thing I'd give a few years of my life to know.”
Brent Taber stared moodily into Entman's myopic little eyes and asked, ”What's that, Doctor?”
”How in h.e.l.l did they do it?”
”Who do you suppose _they_ are?”
Entman looked ceilingward in a manner that indicated he might either be hunting for _them_ somewhere out beyond, or sending a prayer heavenward in a plea for Divine counsel and guidance.
”Some form of ent.i.ty with far greater intelligence than we possess.”
”You can tell me more than that, can't you?” Brent asked sharply. And when Doctor Entman looked up in surprise, he added, ”Sorry for the tone.
My nerves have gotten a little edgy lately.”
Entman smiled understandingly. ”I don't wonder. As to this living machine--no ... it's not a machine because it did _live_. Let's see what we can figure out. What's it made of? The material used in its construction is--oh, h.e.l.l--how can I put it? This way, maybe. Take a wool blanket and call it genuine flesh, blood and bone. Now, take a blanket made of one of the new synthetics--Dacron or any one of the other equally serviceable materials--call that the material this creature is made of. Figuring it that way--”
”You mean our visitor's body is constructed of things that feel and look like flesh, blood and bone--work as well, but aren't. Right?”
”Right. But, of course, that doesn't tell you anything you didn't know before.”
”But what about their potentials, their capabilities? They're _human_--in the sense that they're exact duplicates of humans--and they _live_, but what about emotions? If we accept the somewhat unscientific theory that it's a soul which is responsible for feelings and emotions, these ... these ... creatures would be handicapped.” Brent paused as if uncertain of his ground. ”Wouldn't they?” he asked lamely. ”I mean, they couldn't--theoretically, at least--react to situations ... or other people's emotions.”
Doctor Entman nodded his head and murmured, ”I would be inclined to agree. Except that we're obviously dealing with superior intelligence--I'm speaking about the ”people” responsible for these androids--and we have no idea how far they might have progressed in duplicating that indefinable something we call a soul.”
For a moment he lapsed into silence. Then looked up at Brent abruptly.
”Have you read anything on Kendrick's experiments with synthetic emotion?”
”Can't say that I have.”
”Kendrick, down at Penton Technological Inst.i.tute, has done some remarkable things in drawing the stuff of human emotion from one person, holding it on a tape, and transferring it to another person.”
”On the face of it, that sounds ridiculous.”
”Doesn't it? Nevertheless, the vibrations set up, or created you might say, by a person in anger, consist of some sort of _stuff_--in the sense of an incredibly high frequency wave. Radio or television waves are the best comparisons.
”Kendrick, in one demonstration, took a young man who was very much in love with a certain young lady. A really love-sick lad. He placed him in the recording unit gave him the young lady's picture, and told him to let his mind dwell on her to the exclusion of all else.”
Doctor Entman smiled briefly. ”This, I imagine, wasn't difficult for the lad to do. Entman then put another young man, one who was unacquainted with the girl, into a receiving unit and exposed him, after giving him the girl's picture, to the vibrations created by the lovelorn chap.