Sleeping Giants
Page 31
—You do realize that this project would essentially be over if he lost his legs. You would be willing to throw away all the work that he did, that you did, to spare him some pain for a few weeks?
—It’s not a few weeks. And if the alternative is to watch him die, then yes, I give up. We’re killing him! And it wouldn’t have to be over. We can find a way to make the helmet work for someone else. We can rig the controls so he can maneuver with his arms. There are a hundred things we can do that don’t involve torturing him. This? What we’re doing to him? It’s just wrong.
—From what Dr. Franklin tells me, we are decades—if not centuries—away from fully understanding the technology behind the helmet. I would also point out that you and Mr. Mitchell—a man in tremendously better shape than Mr. Couture—have worked countless hours in the sphere and were able to make her walk only for a few steps. You cannot seriously suggest that Mr. Couture could control robotic legs with his hands and operate the console with any kind of efficiency. That would be putting his life, and yours, at risk. Mr. Couture is a grown man. Why not let him make his own decisions?
—No. Of course, he’ll take new drugs if you give him a choice. He’d do anything to get the project back on track.
—Some would call that dedication. I would hardly call it a problem.
—It’s not just his body that’s messed up. He’s changed.
—Is he depressed?
—No, quite the opposite. He says this ordeal’s made him see things differently. He keeps telling us how much he appreciates every little thing. You should see him with me. He’s kind, he’s…attentive. It scares the hell out of me.
—It is not uncommon for people to find positive aspects in a negative situation.
—I get that. I’ve heard it before: “Life’s taught me a great lesson.” “I now realize what the important things in life are.” I even think it’s true sometimes. But this doesn’t feel right. That’s not who he is. I think he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown and he’s finding ways of holding on to his sanity for as long as he can.
—It is kind of you to worry about your friend but I honestly believe he is making astounding progress, physically and mentally. Speaking of physical progress, how is your nose healing up? Are you still having trouble breathing?
—It’s kind of me to worry about my friend?…You ought to listen to yourself sometimes. My nose is fine. I still have to breathe through my mouth when I sleep but it’s getting better. They said I’ll need plastic surgery if I want to get rid of the scar. I’m not sure I want to. It’s a shame the helmet doesn’t come down that far, I could have saved a nose job.
—That was a bold move you made. They could have shot you. They should have shot you. Do you realize how dangerous that was?
—I know. It’s not like I planned any of it. They were either going to get us all killed or let the Russians take the head. I’ve never been really afraid of dying, but it would feel damn stupid to get so close to the last piece and let it slip away. I tell myself it was a calculated risk, but the truth is I acted on instinct. They just made me mad.
—An impulsive reaction is to be expected in your case. I am curious as to how you knew the head would not be destroyed?
—You can call it an educated guess. You know I’ve helped Dr. Franklin run some experiments. I assumed that if a tiny speck of metal could absorb a lot of energy, something that massive could withstand a couple torpedo hits. I know. You’re gonna tell me it wasn’t up to me to take that chance, that I could have ruined everything.
—I am not going to tell you anything of the sort. I chose you because of who you are. I sent you there for the same reason. Quite frankly, I would have fired myself. I am curious, however, as to how you knew it would disable the submarines. If my understanding is correct, an electromagnetic pulse does not travel underwater, and if it did, a submarine would likely be shielded from it.
—I thought about that, but an EMP shouldn’t have done anything to my helicopter either. It’s hardened against that. And yet it stopped my engine cold, twice. Whatever this thing shoots out, it’s nasty. If it didn’t work, the shock wave from the explosion might have at least pushed the Russians away.
—They are still searching for the other Russian submarine.
—I feel sorry for those people. I didn’t think it would destroy their ship.
—Obliterate might be a better term. All that is left is a crescent-shaped hollow on the cliffside, and some very confused seamen.
—Won’t they report what happened when they get back?
—What could they report? The other submarine was there, and then it was not. Their ships were there, and they know we did not leave with a submarine. What matters is that we recovered the head. Have you attached it yet?
—No. We haven’t even unwrapped it. Dr. Franklin wants us to try everything we can on the console before we attach the head. If we can see the result on the hologram first, we can avoid accidents when she’s functional.
—I thought curiosity would have the better of you.
—Well, it would have had the better of me. I would’ve put that thing on the minute we got back. At least we’d know if it works, right? Then out of nowhere, Vincent was back to his old self for a few seconds. He said: “One of those buttons could be a self-destruct.” It was nice to catch a glimpse of him again. His eyes, they haven’t been the same since the accident, but he looked at me like he used to for a moment. Of course, I didn’t have anything smart to say after that. We all agreed to work on the console while Vincent gets better.
We didn’t find a self-destruct, but we did find the command to disassemble her. There is a small button on the top left of the console, if you press it long enough, she lays down on her stomach, arms along her sides, and all the parts disconnect from one another, at least they do on the hologram. There’s a hatch on top of the sphere for us to get out, since the sphere will stay level, but I don’t know how we’ll be able to reach it.
—Have you discovered any weaponry?
—Not yet, but it could be weeks before we try every sequence on the console, and some of the controls seem to have no effect on the hologram. These could be your weapons.
—My weapons?
—You know what I mean…All we can see right now is what makes her move. If there’s a button that makes her eyes shoot little turquoise lightning bolts, we won’t know until we can do it for real. We’ll have to figure out these things once she’s assembled if Vincent recovers enough strength.
—You mean when he recovers his strength.
—Sure, that’s what I meant. Promise me you won’t push him.
—You make it sound as if I could control him in some way. I cannot force him to do anything he does not want to.
—You sorta can, that’s the thing. He listens to you. Don’t ask me why. I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why he’d trust you of all people, but he does. Don’t abuse that trust.
—You and I both know that Mr. Couture puts more faith in your opinion and that of Dr. Franklin than he will ever put in anything I have to say. To suggest otherwise is simply preposterous.
—No, he trusts us…he trusts me for just about everything, but he knows how much I care about him, and Dr. Franklin too. He knows we’ll always have his interests at heart. I guess, in some weird way, he trusts your…objectivity more.
—It’s not a few weeks. And if the alternative is to watch him die, then yes, I give up. We’re killing him! And it wouldn’t have to be over. We can find a way to make the helmet work for someone else. We can rig the controls so he can maneuver with his arms. There are a hundred things we can do that don’t involve torturing him. This? What we’re doing to him? It’s just wrong.
—From what Dr. Franklin tells me, we are decades—if not centuries—away from fully understanding the technology behind the helmet. I would also point out that you and Mr. Mitchell—a man in tremendously better shape than Mr. Couture—have worked countless hours in the sphere and were able to make her walk only for a few steps. You cannot seriously suggest that Mr. Couture could control robotic legs with his hands and operate the console with any kind of efficiency. That would be putting his life, and yours, at risk. Mr. Couture is a grown man. Why not let him make his own decisions?
—No. Of course, he’ll take new drugs if you give him a choice. He’d do anything to get the project back on track.
—Some would call that dedication. I would hardly call it a problem.
—It’s not just his body that’s messed up. He’s changed.
—Is he depressed?
—No, quite the opposite. He says this ordeal’s made him see things differently. He keeps telling us how much he appreciates every little thing. You should see him with me. He’s kind, he’s…attentive. It scares the hell out of me.
—It is not uncommon for people to find positive aspects in a negative situation.
—I get that. I’ve heard it before: “Life’s taught me a great lesson.” “I now realize what the important things in life are.” I even think it’s true sometimes. But this doesn’t feel right. That’s not who he is. I think he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown and he’s finding ways of holding on to his sanity for as long as he can.
—It is kind of you to worry about your friend but I honestly believe he is making astounding progress, physically and mentally. Speaking of physical progress, how is your nose healing up? Are you still having trouble breathing?
—It’s kind of me to worry about my friend?…You ought to listen to yourself sometimes. My nose is fine. I still have to breathe through my mouth when I sleep but it’s getting better. They said I’ll need plastic surgery if I want to get rid of the scar. I’m not sure I want to. It’s a shame the helmet doesn’t come down that far, I could have saved a nose job.
—That was a bold move you made. They could have shot you. They should have shot you. Do you realize how dangerous that was?
—I know. It’s not like I planned any of it. They were either going to get us all killed or let the Russians take the head. I’ve never been really afraid of dying, but it would feel damn stupid to get so close to the last piece and let it slip away. I tell myself it was a calculated risk, but the truth is I acted on instinct. They just made me mad.
—An impulsive reaction is to be expected in your case. I am curious as to how you knew the head would not be destroyed?
—You can call it an educated guess. You know I’ve helped Dr. Franklin run some experiments. I assumed that if a tiny speck of metal could absorb a lot of energy, something that massive could withstand a couple torpedo hits. I know. You’re gonna tell me it wasn’t up to me to take that chance, that I could have ruined everything.
—I am not going to tell you anything of the sort. I chose you because of who you are. I sent you there for the same reason. Quite frankly, I would have fired myself. I am curious, however, as to how you knew it would disable the submarines. If my understanding is correct, an electromagnetic pulse does not travel underwater, and if it did, a submarine would likely be shielded from it.
—I thought about that, but an EMP shouldn’t have done anything to my helicopter either. It’s hardened against that. And yet it stopped my engine cold, twice. Whatever this thing shoots out, it’s nasty. If it didn’t work, the shock wave from the explosion might have at least pushed the Russians away.
—They are still searching for the other Russian submarine.
—I feel sorry for those people. I didn’t think it would destroy their ship.
—Obliterate might be a better term. All that is left is a crescent-shaped hollow on the cliffside, and some very confused seamen.
—Won’t they report what happened when they get back?
—What could they report? The other submarine was there, and then it was not. Their ships were there, and they know we did not leave with a submarine. What matters is that we recovered the head. Have you attached it yet?
—No. We haven’t even unwrapped it. Dr. Franklin wants us to try everything we can on the console before we attach the head. If we can see the result on the hologram first, we can avoid accidents when she’s functional.
—I thought curiosity would have the better of you.
—Well, it would have had the better of me. I would’ve put that thing on the minute we got back. At least we’d know if it works, right? Then out of nowhere, Vincent was back to his old self for a few seconds. He said: “One of those buttons could be a self-destruct.” It was nice to catch a glimpse of him again. His eyes, they haven’t been the same since the accident, but he looked at me like he used to for a moment. Of course, I didn’t have anything smart to say after that. We all agreed to work on the console while Vincent gets better.
We didn’t find a self-destruct, but we did find the command to disassemble her. There is a small button on the top left of the console, if you press it long enough, she lays down on her stomach, arms along her sides, and all the parts disconnect from one another, at least they do on the hologram. There’s a hatch on top of the sphere for us to get out, since the sphere will stay level, but I don’t know how we’ll be able to reach it.
—Have you discovered any weaponry?
—Not yet, but it could be weeks before we try every sequence on the console, and some of the controls seem to have no effect on the hologram. These could be your weapons.
—My weapons?
—You know what I mean…All we can see right now is what makes her move. If there’s a button that makes her eyes shoot little turquoise lightning bolts, we won’t know until we can do it for real. We’ll have to figure out these things once she’s assembled if Vincent recovers enough strength.
—You mean when he recovers his strength.
—Sure, that’s what I meant. Promise me you won’t push him.
—You make it sound as if I could control him in some way. I cannot force him to do anything he does not want to.
—You sorta can, that’s the thing. He listens to you. Don’t ask me why. I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why he’d trust you of all people, but he does. Don’t abuse that trust.
—You and I both know that Mr. Couture puts more faith in your opinion and that of Dr. Franklin than he will ever put in anything I have to say. To suggest otherwise is simply preposterous.
—No, he trusts us…he trusts me for just about everything, but he knows how much I care about him, and Dr. Franklin too. He knows we’ll always have his interests at heart. I guess, in some weird way, he trusts your…objectivity more.
