Mardock Scramble

“It’s a fairly straightforward auxiliary function to give a brain the electronic interference abilities of a snarc, though?”

“Yes, but the same paintbrush wielded by two different hands produces two entirely different paintings. Some people are natural artists, others show no trace of talent despite the best tuition in the world. This is just like that. What’s unique about this girl’s snarc is a truly astounding level of concentration, her ability to focus her consciousness in on a narrow point, and her ability to diffuse all her senses. Theoretically the human body has the ability to respond to its own suggestions, manipulating its own senses at will. To feel warm when it wants to feel warm, to feel cold when it wants to feel cold, to feel nothing when it wants to feel nothing— even extend its control over its own inner workings. Through a deliberate program of training the subconscious, the body should be able to grasp everything that is happening all around it, intuitively, on a subconscious level,” said Faceman.

“Theory is one thing, practice is quite another. There’s no way that such a thing could actually exist—an ordinary person able to manipulate their senses on demand.”

This made Faceman laugh. “The origins of your own PseudoGravitational Float were fairly innocuous at first, if you remember—it started off as technology designed to help people cope with heights. Wasn’t it you yourself who mastered that technology so that you could walk across any surface, including ceilings and walls, at will? When I say that her data will be useless to you, I mean that it’d be impossible to try and extrapolate any general conclusions from it, just as it’s impossible to predict how she is likely to develop next.”

“Still—her organic data, at least, will be of some use.”

“Even that’s completely unquantifiable at the moment,” replied Faceman.

“Are you using FES?”

Faceman nodded. “Functional Electronic Stimulus treatment is being applied to her whole body. The original plan was to program her nervous system electronically in order to cure her of paralysis in her limbs, but…”

“So why is that unquantifiable?”

“Her skin tissue is already in the process of assimilating with her cerebellum. Of course, you could say that it’s the skin tissue that is influencing the brain, rather than the other way around.”

“Her skin is controlling her brain? Is such a thing even possible?”

“Human beings are, fundamentally speaking, holistic entities. Such a thing is certainly possible. It’s safe to say that Rune-Balot is no longer human, but rather a creature formed by synthesis of human being and metal fibers. The fibers develop autonomously, in accordance with the spatial senses of her cerebellum, automatically creating hundreds of millions of electric patterns that allow her to apply optimal stimuli to her muscles and internal organs. In other words, the skin operates the brain, which in turn manipulates the rest of her body to her will: a state of affairs that we’ve never seen before.”

“Why didn’t that happen with my fibers?” asked Boiled.

“The only possible explanation I can think of is that the girl is a singularity. Dr. Easter did program a certain level of combat data into the structure of the metal fibers beforehand, but that only goes so far—she’s long since outgrown that, and her abilities have developed to the point that the original data is completely redundant. No one other than this particular girl is capable of such a thing. Exactly the same as, for example, how you’re the only one who was able to develop your PGF to the extent that you did.”

“And how can I deal with her?” asked Boiled.

“Deal with—?” Faceman stopped and nodded, as if to say It stands to reason. “We’re residents of Paradise. We don’t share the same moralizing notions that the outside world has regarding war, weapons, and related technology. We don’t consider them to be evil in and of themselves, and we don’t consider the girl to be a threat in and of herself. But perhaps you feel that opposing the existence of creatures such as this girl gives you some sort of purpose in life, a raison d’etre?”

Boiled’s face revealed that not only could he not answer this question, he was looking for an answer to it himself.

“What is conflict and killing to you, Boiled? A means to an end or an end in itself?” It was the first time that Faceman had called him by his name since he’d arrived.

But Boiled wouldn’t answer.

“Is it your desire to kill that’s become your main driving force? Didn’t you entrust yourself to Paradise in order to toughen you up, body and mind, ready for outer space? Isn’t it rather miserable that the outcome of all that is a boundless killing machine?”

“The killer instinct in me is just that—instinct,” Boiled said. “It’s neither a means to an end nor an end in itself. The reasons behind my involvement in Paradise don’t concern you; they didn’t back in the day, and they don’t now. More importantly, the person who has the right—and duty—to ask questions is not you, it’s me.” Boiled’s tone was defiant. He continued: “And my third question is this. What are Oeufcoque and the others trying to find out about Shell?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve already seen the official petition to the Broilerhouse. There’s a good chance that the Doctor and Oeufcoque are conducting their own private investigation on Shell.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not in a position to divulge that—not to one whose only means of self-actualization is through killing.”

“What are you saying?” said Boiled.

“I’m saying that giving you the information you want would be paramount to condoning murder. Ask me again once you’ve recovered your sense of value for human life.”

All the expression disappeared from Boiled’s face. As inhuman as his face was normally, this was one step further, hideously, oppressively blank.

“So who’s going to show me the value of life? The people whose bodies were mangled behind closed doors in the name of science?”

Faceman dodged the question. “I’m not talking about the value of life. I’m talking about your own personal values.”

Boiled leaned forward. “I know all about the many lives that Paradise has snuffed out. How other soldiers came here, what happened to them, and how they ended up dying.”

“So you’re trying to say that our aim is to murder people? Like some sort of concentration camp? That’s a foolish way to look at what goes on here, and you know it. Of course there are some researchers here who treat their subjects as objects. But they are human beings too, and they have arrived at their own personal, sophisticated value systems, their own conceptions of the value of human life. Without this, you wouldn’t last long as a researcher here—it’d be too tough on the mind.”

“False value systems. Totally contrived.”

“Of course they’re contrived—what other sort of value system is there? Or are you saying that there’s a physical, tangible object called a ‘value’ lying around somewhere, just waiting to be discovered so that everyone can see what the truth is?”

“My heart died in this so-called Paradise. I can no longer feel that there’s any such thing as value to life.”

“That’s because the fear of death has been removed from you. The army—and you—wanted it so. To give a soldier a sense of immortality. There were many steps to this procedure, and you’re the only one ever to follow it through to the end, voluntarily or otherwise.”

“I’ve also forgotten sorrow and anger.”

“At the time, our consciousness-threshold examination techniques weren’t yet perfect…”

“I’ve even been robbed of my ability to sleep.”

“Asomniatic Activity—the highest-priority research target we were given, designed to strengthen military personnel. You know very well that it used to be a matter of course for amphetamines to be prescribed to help soldiers stand up to the trials and tribulations of war—was that any better? If you remember, at the point you came to this facility, you were utterly dependent on stimulants—total addiction. All we did was try and save you, and countless other soldiers, from such a fate.”

“Save me, you say?”

“That’s right. Save you. I felt so then, and I still feel I was right. I have a lot of time for people who accept