Sisters

First Written    Sun Mar 22 02:53:31 2020
File Modified    Wed Feb 14 18:32:26 2024
Latest Upload    Thu Sep 19 03:09:54 2024

Interlude - Interview

"She's perfect," Sergei Young motioned, "I'll take her and have her work integrated into our main research pipelines immediately."

"I don't know," Cindy Mahel disagreed, "She seems completely unsuitable for such a large and public institution as the implant lab. Maybe Eddie can take her. I mean, look at her hair! Is that supposed to be a mohawk or a mullet?"

The woman sat across from her interviewers, separated by a clear panel of composite - layered material consisting of c-drones, steels, and carbon structures. The c-drones within had just rotated to form two panes of opposing polarity, situated to block light from one side but not the other.

She wore a purple and blue patterned coat gaudy enough to set off Cindy's opinion of her from the moment she had entered. Wear as much blue and purple as possible. The Republic's colours in excess are a sign you've done your research, Cindy had posted anonymously on Republic forums one tipsy afternoon. The lie, she jokingly reasoned, would tip her off to candidates more interested in appearances than ideals.

"Please, Cindy," Sergei insisted, "You are our resident expert on human social behaviour, are you not? Don't you know what a hairstyle like that entails?"

"No, I do not. Please enlighten me with what a neurobiologist knows about hair, Dr. Young."

"Too many people see the opposite of what they should see in hair. Oh, let's not hire her. Her afro won't fit in the doorway. Don't hire him - his punk rocker 'do would frighten the toddlers. Yet folk with elaborate hairstyles carry a sign of work ethic everywhere they go! You can't lie down on the job with hair like her. You can't even lean back in your chair without misplacing a strand."

"And this is why you come into the lab hung-over with a bedhead every morning?"

"I'm the Republic equivalent of a tenured professor, Cindy. And for your information, my salt and pepper cowlicks are meticulously crafted to invoke the image of a mad scientist. Mad with love for our glorious nation, of course."

"Right," Ms. Mahel continued, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think the great Dr. Young has a crush. Or is her research so compelling as to make you want her at all costs?"

The reflection of a briskly walking Jay Yem crossed over the image of the young hiring candidate behind the glass.

"Jay," Cindy called, "Would you come validate your colleague's lust?"

"Science lust," Sergei corrected as Jay walked over, "Her work is fascinating. Perfect for an idea I've been floating around. I believe you'll change your mind if you hear it from her herself."

"Dr. Visser Tepe," Cindy spoke into the panel, triggering its return to full transparency, "Could you explain your thesis project to the Chairman and myself as you did to Dr. Young?"

"Yes," Tepe affirmed, "I believe the general idea can be summed up as a compression algorithm for mining signals. For large amounts of signals arriving asynchronously, to be exact. All while compensating for nearly infinitesimal delays between them."

"Such as the propagation delay of Human neurons, or even electric circuits," Sergei interrupted.

"Precisely," she continued, "Dr. Young and I have talked about its potential for analyzing minds in their entirety, recording the functionality of entire brains, whether they be Human, Mechanical, or possibly even extraterrestrial."

"That does sound wonderful, Dr. Tepe," Jay nodded, "Any technological progress is welcome in the Republic, immediate purposefulness be damned. But to have such a clear route to practical application is a very welcome cherry on top. If Dr. Young thinks you can record minds, I believe it."

"Thank you, Chairman," she responded.

"Do you have a publicly acceptable name for your project division yet? If not, I'd recommend you consult Ms. Mahel here for direction."

Sergei Young raised a finger and grinned, "Tepe Recorder."