Connexion : The Atlantis Project, Book.1 (10 page)

“That sounds like a fun plan, doesn’t it,
Charlie?”

This time, Charlie decided to take things
lightly, with a little humor.

“Indeed it does! I wouldn’t like to be in
your place. Something tells me the exquisite canteen fare would go
down more easily through a tube than in the usual way.”

Mario, who was standing a little further off
with Clementine, also responded to Francisco, who had not
understood Charlie’s little joke and was continuing his
presentation mechanically.

“Francisco? I don’t want to interrupt your
program, but it seems to me that Charlie has a point. After all,
mealtimes will be one of the only things that will add interest to
Jacques’ day, giving him a little pleasure. His daily routine, if
the experiment lasts as long as planned, could be psychologically
and physically draining.”

“That is true. You are right, Mario. I will
tell the cook to prepare some special meals for Jacques.”

“To be honest, I was thinking in more general
terms. Actually, it seems to me that Clementine and I could make
the experience less difficult for Jacques.”

“How would you do that?”

“Oh, well, nothing complicated; just by
chatting with him and preparing some nice Italian dishes, for
example.”

“I don’t see any problem with that, as long
as it doesn’t interfere with the program. However, for the Italian
dishes, you will need to have the ingredients checked by the
medical team beforehand. We must not allow the risk of
food-poisoning to compromise the experiment.”

Jacques looked at Mario and Clementine with a
satisfied grin. Mario was definitely an exceptionally kind and
thoughtful guy! His first impression was proving to be true.

Charlie was getting a little jealous of
Jacques, who would be on the receiving end of all Clementine’s
attention while he was wrestling with the nightmares of an
extra-terrestrial being, his skull cracked open like a mere egg
shell. But what annoyed him even more, was knowing that Mario and
Clementine would be spending a lot of time together while he was
unable to keep an eye on them.

He in turn made a joke. “I hope you’ll think
about me. I’d appreciate gazpacho and any other tasty liquids you
can squeeze through my gastric tube!”

Clementine laughed heartily, looking
affectionately at Charlie. Such tenderness felt like a dagger
stabbing his heart. He suddenly remembered Jacques’ words during
their disagreement at Mario’s birthday dinner. Maybe he was right.
Clementine probably did not feel anything more for him than
friendship, occasionally mixed with pity.

“Okay then. The issue is resolved, isn’t it?”
asked Francisco.

“Couldn’t be better!” answered Jacques. “You
can continue your explanations, Francisco.”

Francisco, unperturbed, picked up his
technical monologue just where he had left off, as if someone had
pushed the “play” button.

“There is one more delicate issue which will
require a preliminary learning phase. Don’t worry, it won’t take
long.”

Francisco paused briefly to pick up a small
index card sitting on the edge of the console.

“Although Charlie will be immersed in
Victor’s thoughts to some extent; unlike Victor, he will not really
be asleep. Indeed, it is necessary for him to remain partially
conscious during this journey, otherwise he will not be able to
memorize or recall a lot of the information gathered about Victor.
Ironically, Charlie will nonetheless have to let himself go,
without trying to control everything, if he wants to penetrate
Victor’s mind and access his memories. So we’re not actually
dealing with a true state of sleep or of wakefulness either. It is
more like something close to a waking dream, except that the
subject is not letting himself be guided by his own dream, but by
someone else’s. In other words, it’s a state that could be
qualified as hypnotic, in which all awareness and attention are
focused on Victor’s mental activity. Conscious control of the
perceptive, cognitive and motor functions is therefore
significantly reduced, although contact with reality is not
completely lost.

“His level of consciousness will fluctuate
regularly. At times, contact with Charlie will no longer be
possible then at other moments, he will return to a state close to
that of wakefulness and will be able to communicate with us. Of
course, he will not be completely awake and we mustn’t expect him
to speak to us directly. He would actually be incapable of
speaking, as speech is a motor activity, which requires the
mobilization of numerous muscles and nerves; however Charlie will
be paralyzed during the whole time he is connected.

“He will be communicating with us via a
neural probe implanted in the Broca area of his brain. This region
of the cerebral cortex is responsible for producing spoken
language. To keep it simple, let’s say that this neural probe is a
sort of interface, capable of transcribing Charlie’s thoughts in
the form of written text which will show up on the console screen.
We will then be able to interpret his thoughts and respond through
Jacques. I do mean ‘interpret his thoughts’ because they will
probably be confused, even without accounting for transcription
errors stemming from the neural probe itself. Although we are quite
proficient in this technology, you mustn’t forget that research in
the area of human-machine interface is still very recent. Tests on
human guinea-pigs are still anecdotal.”

Charlie was struggling to keep his mind
focused on these explanations, which had become rather too complex
for him. His eyes, like his thoughts, strayed toward Clementine,
which Jacques noticed immediately. He spoke internally to his
brother.

“
Concentrate, Charlie! She’ll still be
here when you get back. What Francisco says is crucial for
everything to work properly. This time, I won’t be there to do what
you have to do for yourself, so make an effort, please! The
experiment hasn’t even started yet and you’re already
daydreaming.”

Meanwhile, Francisco had continued his
monologue. Jacques, who had now lost the thread of the
presentation, found himself momentarily in the position of an
outside observer of the scene, instead of being completely absorbed
by the actual content of Francisco’s speech. He was thinking that
not even once had Francisco’s eyes met his, since the moment they
entered the room. It was as if he was talking to himself, and yet
there he was in front of them, his eyes wandering aimlessly. I must
concentrate, he thought. At the same time he could not help
thinking that Francisco was certainly very unique. Although certain
aspects of his behavior made him seem totally absentminded, it was
also obvious that he was trapped in a cruel reality: he was
incapable of understanding emotions, and all that is implicit to
human relationships. No doubt the humor that Jacques was so fond of
using, to ease his pain and get him through rough patches, would be
no help to this guy. Thankfully, Mario was different.

Francisco was now explaining to Charlie how
they would have to go about configuring the neural probe in order
to make the transcription as accurate as possible. To do this,
Charlie would need several hours of training right after inserting
the neural probe; and all this was programmed for no later than six
o’clock the following morning.

13 CONNECTION

Charlie could feel a slight prickling
sensation above his temples. For a split second a vague odor of
burning flesh filled the padded compartment where his head lay. He
felt a slight, painless tugging on the top of his skull then
nothing. Now soft music with a gentle, repetitive tune was playing
inside the helmet. The visor had become opaque several moments
earlier and he found himself cut off from all external stimulation.
He could not feel his body anymore and this absence of sensation
gave him an intense feeling of well-being; an impression of freedom
he had never experienced before.

Suddenly, he noticed his brother’s voice
speaking to him telepathically, but it was fainter than usual.

“
They have just inserted the neural probe,
apparently successfully. For now everything seems to be going
according to plan. In a few minutes you’ll be connected to Victor.
According to Francisco, you won’t notice the connection straight
away. Your train of thought will simply take an unfamiliar turn and
you’ll be inundated by a flood of images, which you’ll need to ride
out. We don’t know yet what form you will perceive me in when I
speak to you, but my voice will probably be accompanied by a visual
representation constructed by your own imagination. Whatever the
representation or its mutations, you’ll need to go by the sound of
my voice, which shouldn’t change too much. That will be your guide
in an otherwise visual world.”

The voice fell silent for a moment then began
again, a little more clearly,
“Okay! Now it’s time to use the
graphic interface. Answer me in writing, so I can be sure you
understand everything I just told you.”

Immediately, a small text appeared on the
console screen. It was proof that Charlie was still quite with it
and that he was managing to use the neural probe perfectly well.
Jacques, lying beside him, could read his brother’s answer with the
aid of a small screen attached to his seat. The text and all the
physiological data were viewed and recorded on the console, and
also simultaneously in a research lab room, where part of the
medical team was at work.

…Everything’s okay,
Jacques. I’ve never felt so free. I’m ready to take the plunge now.
Try and keep an eye or me, but if ever things should go wrong, make
the right decision and save yourself.

“
Don’t be ridiculous. Just be sure you
don’t forget where you come from. Your real life is here, even if
it hasn’t always been an easy one for us.”

…
You
can count on me. I won’t forget you!

“
Good luck, Charlie!”

Jacques pressed the remote control that
Francisco was holding out to him, which initiated the last phase of
the neuronal connection. His anxiety was now tangible. His face had
darkened and his eyes narrowed. He closed them, to concentrate
solely on his internal feelings, attentive to the slightest signal
that could be coming from his brother. If Charlie was in danger, he
would know it immediately, whatever happened.

For now, the data on the console showed that
Charlie had entered a phase of deep immersion. It would probably be
quite some time before he could resurface and communicate with
Jacques again through the neural probe. All they could do was
wait.

14 A NEW WORLD

A small, brown moth was frantically
fluttering about, flying repeatedly toward the central, naked light
bulb that hung from the ceiling. Its continuous rushes back and
forth invariably led to the same result – a violent collision with
the burning glass, followed by a fall of several centimeters, while
the insect gathered its wits and prepared a fresh attack. Charlie
had watched the scene over and over again and yet, every time, he
could not help feeling a certain pity for the poor creature. He was
lying on his bed in a very comfortable position; strangely
comfortable in fact. The lower back pain and usual heaviness that
weighed him down every morning were no longer there. He felt
lighter, as if his body had decided to stop fighting against him,
for the first time since the twins’ birth.

The little creature was certainly no monarch,
but merely a plain, brown moth. Its life was limited to a few hours
of mindless gesticulations in the confined area of an apartment,
while its fellow creatures covered thousands of kilometers out in
the wild. Impelled by a collective mission that transcended them
and all their other monarchs before them, they would return to the
land of their forbears to reproduce. Giving life to new creatures,
which would in turn follow the twists and turns of the great maiden
voyage – that intoxicating journey, fraught with the dangers which
give meaning to life, whatever that life may be – such was the
destiny of those frail but superb creatures.

And yet here was this poor, dull-colored
moth, whose journey was limited to convolutions which seemed at
first glance, to be as pointless as they were deathly. Charlie
reached out and turned off the light in a benevolent gesture,
hoping by this heroic act to save the poor creature and give it the
opportunity to find a new destiny for itself. Unfortunately, as he
should have expected, the miserable insect, now disoriented and
aimless, landed near the hot light bulb and was still.

Daylight was starting to show through the
closed shutters, penetrating the bedroom with a vivid glow; the
promise of a bright, sunny day. Charlie decided to get up and make
the most of the beautiful weather. He turned to look at Jacques;
but he was not there. There was no one else in the bed, which now
seemed abnormally wide. His face was filled with fear. He could not
move. He was stunned, not knowing what to do. He was in the same
situation as the moth when the light suddenly went out. Something
inconceivable had happened. Was he dead? Was he dreaming? He was
immediately gripped by anxiety, but strangely, it did not affect
him as usual. It was – how could he put it? – more academic. His
body was still relaxed, although he usually got stomach cramps and
was prone to alternating sensations of intense heat and cold, which
completely overwhelmed him and made him fear the onslaught of some
dreaded disease. This time it was different; he was mainly afraid
of forever losing touch with reality.

However, little by little the sensation
subsided inexplicably. He was still in the same place, nonetheless;
alone in his bed. Not knowing how to get out of this surreal
situation, he tried – without much hope – calling out to his
brother; as if he could be anywhere but here by his side, their two
bodies fused together… No answer came. Taking a closer look at the
sheets, he could see that they still held the imprint of Jacques’
body, and even if the sight was completely absurd, it reassured
him. Although he no longer existed at his side, Jacques had at
least existed, and probably still existed somewhere.