The Turing Option

“You mean his memory is gone, destroyed?”

“No, not exactly. Look — the largest parts of his neocortex are still intact. But most of their co

“Then he is a… vegetable.”

“Yes — in the sense that he ca

“Is that it? The end?”

“No, not necessarily. Although Brian ca

“If there is a chance, any chance at all, you must take it. Can you do it, can you save Brian?”

“It is too early to say anything with any degree of certainty. The damage is extensive and I don’t know how much I can repair. The trouble is that in addition to the general trauma the bullet has severed millions of nerve fibers. It will be impossible for me to match up all of them. But I hope to identify a few hundred thousand and join them.’’

Benicoff shook his head. “You just lost me, doctor. You are going into his open skull and identify something like a million different and severed nerve fibers? That will take years.”

“It would if I had to do them one by one. However, computer-controlled microsurgical technology can now operate on many sites at one time. Our parallel computer can identify several co

“Can this be done?”

“Not easily. When a nerve fiber is cut off from its mother cell it dies. It is fortunate that the empty tube of the dead cell remains in place and this makes regrowth of the nerve possible. I will be using implants of my own design that will control that regrowth.” Snaresbrook sighed. “And after that, well, I fear that the nerve repair will just be the begi

“Why is that not enough?”

“Because we must restore the original co

The technician hurried in with the multiscan cassette of the V.I. and inserted it into the projector; the three-dimensional hologram sprang into existence. Snaresbrook examined it closely, nodded grimly. “Now that I can see the extent of the damage, I can finish the debridement and prepare for the second and vital stage of this operation — the reco

“Just what is it you plan to do?”

“I’m going to use some new techniques. I hope to be able to identify the role that each of his nerve fibers once played in his various mental activities — by finding out where each of them fit into his semantic neural networks. These are the webs of brain co

“I must know more about this,” Benicoff said. “Is there any chance you will let me observe the operation?”

“Every chance in the world — I have had up to five residents in the O.R. breathing down my neck at one time. It’s fine with me as long as you stay out of my way. What’s this sudden interest?”

“More than morbid curiosity, I assure you. You’ve described the machines you use and what they do. I want to see them in operation. I need to know more about them if I am going to ever know anything about AI.”

“Understood. Come along, then.”

3

February 10, 202

Benicoff, gowned and masked, stretchable boots pulled over his shoes, pressed his back to the green tiles of the wall of the operating room and tried to make himself invisible. There were two large lights on ceiling tracks that one of the nurses moved about and focused until the resident surgeon approved their positioning. On the table sterile blue sheets had been draped tentlike over Brian’s still figure. Only his head was exposed, projecting beyond the end of the table and held immovably by the pointed steel spokes of the head holder. There were three of them, screwed through the skin of his scalp and anchored firmly in the bone below. The bandages that covered the two bullet wounds were stark white in contrast to his orange skull, shaved smooth and painted with disinfectant.

Snaresbrook looked relaxed, efficient. Discussing the approaching operation with the anesthesiologist and the nurses, then supervising the careful placement of the projector. “Here is where I am going to work,” she said, tapping the hologram screen. “And this is where you are going to cut.”

She touched the outlined area that she had hiked onto the plate, checking once again that the opening would be large enough to reveal the entire area of injury, large enough for her to work within. Nodding with satisfaction, she projected the holograph onto Brian’s skull and watched while the resident painted the lines on the skin, following those of the image, matching it exactly. When he was finished more drapes were attached to the surrounding skin until only the area of the operation remained. Snaresbrook went out to scrub: the resident began the hour-long procedure to open the skull.

Luckily Benicoff had seen enough other surgical procedures not to be put off. He was still amazed at all the force that is needed to penetrate the tough skin, muscle and bone that armor the brain. First a scalpel was used to cut through to the bone; the scalp, spreading apart as it was severed, was then sewn to the surrounding cloth. After the bleeding arteries were sealed shut with an electric cautery it was time to penetrate the bone.

The resident drilled holes by hand, with a polished metal brace and bit. Bits of skull, like wood shavings, were cleared away by the nurse. It was hard work and the surgeon was sweating, had to lean back so that the perspiration could be dabbed from his forehead. Once the holes were through the bone he enlarged them with a different tool. The final step was to use the motorized craniotome, fitted with a bone-cutting extension, to co