“That’s just the same kind of implant all my friends have,” I said. “What about the experimental advantages you mentioned? How dangerous will they be to chip in?”
The doctor smiled briefly. “That’s difficult to say, Mr. Audran; they are, after all, experimental. They’ve been tested on many animal subjects and just a few human volunteers. The results have been satisfactory, but not unanimously. A lot will depend on you, if Allah pleases. Let me explain by first describing the sort of controls we’re talking about. Personality modules alter your consciousness, and make you believe temporarily that you are someone else. The add-ons feed directly into your short-term memory, and give you an instant knowledge of any subject; that vanishes when you remove the chip. The add-ons you can use with the anterior implant affect several other, more specialized diencephalic structures.” He took a black felt-tip pen and sketched a rough map of the brain. “First, we have inserted an extremely thin silver, plastic-sheathed wire into your thalamus. The wire is less than a thousandth of an inch in diameter, too delicate to be manipulated by hand. This wire will connect your reticular system to a unique add-on we will provide you; it will enable you to damp out the neural network that catalogs sensory detail. If, for instance, it is vital for you to concentrate, you may choose to block out disturbing visual, audible, tactile, and other signals.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I can see how that may come in handy,” I said.
Dr. Yeniknani smiled. “It is only a tenth part of what we have given you — there are other wires, to other areas. Near the thalamus, in the center of your brain, is the hypothalamus. This organ is small, but it has many varied and vital functions. You will be able to control, augment, or override most of them. For example, you may decide to ignore hunger, if you wish; using the proper add-on, you will feel no hunger at all, however long you fast. You will have the same control over thirst and the sensation of pain. You may consciously regulate your body temperature, blood pressure, and the state of sexual arousal. Perhaps most usefully, you will be able to suppress fatigue.”
I just sat and looked at him, wide-eyed, as if he had unwrapped for me a fabulous treasure or a real wishing-lamp. But Dr. Yeniknani was no enslaved djinn. What he offered was not magic, but as far as I was concerned it might as well have been: I didn’t even know if I entirely believed him, except that I tended to believe fierce Turks in positions of authority. I humor them, at least, so I let him continue.
“You will find it simpler to learn new skills and information. Of course, you will have electronic add-ons to feed these things into your short-term memory; but if you want to transfer them permanently to your long-term memory, your hippocampus and other associated areas have been circuited for this. If you need to, you may alter your circadian and lunar clocks. You’ll be able to fall asleep when you wish, and awaken automatically according to the chips you’re using. The circuit to your pituitary will give you indirect control over your other endocrines, such as your thyroid and adrenal glands. Your therapist will go into more detail about just how you can take advantage of these functions. As you see, you may devote total attention to your tasks, without needing to interrupt them quite so often for the normal bodily necessities. Now, of course, one can’t go indefinitely without sleep or taking in water or emptying one’s bladder; but if you choose, you may dismiss the insistent and increasingly unpleasant warning signs.”
“My patron doesn’t want me distracted,” I said dryly.
Dr. Yeniknani sighed. “No, he doesn’t. Not by anything.”
“Is there anything more?”
He chewed his lip for a moment “Yes, but your therapist will cover all of it, and we’ll give you the usual brochures and booklets. I may say that you’ll be able to control your limbic system, which influences your emotions. That is one of Dr. Lisan’s new developments.”
“I’ll be able to choose my feelings? Like I was choosing what clothes to wear?”
“To some extent. Also, in wiring these areas of the brain, we were often able to affect more than one function at one location. For instance, as a positive bonus, your system will be able to burn alcohol more efficiently, quicker than the standard ounce an hour. If you choose.” He gave me a brief, knowing look, because of course a good Muslim does not drink alcohol; he must have been aware that I wasn’t the most devout person in the city. Yet the subject was still a delicate one between two relative strangers.
“My patron will be pleased by that, too, I’m sure. Fine. I can’t wait. I’ll be a force for good among the unrighteous and corrupt.”
“Inshallah,” said the doctor. “As God wills.”
“Praise Allah,” I said, humbled by his honest faith.
“There is still one thing more, and then I wish to give you a personal word, a little of my own philosophy. The first thing is that as you must know, the brain — the hypothalamus, actually — has a pleasure center that can be electrically stimulated.”
I took a deep breath. “Yes, I’ve heard about that. The effect is supposed to be absolutely overwhelming.”
“Animals and people who have leads into that area and are permitted to stimulate the pleasure center often forget everything else — food, water, every other need and drive. They may continue exciting the pleasure center to the point of death.” His eyes narrowed. “Your pleasure center has not been wired. Your patron felt it would have been too great a temptation for you, and you have more to accomplish than spending the rest of your life in some dream heaven.”
I didn’t know if I felt glad about that news or not. I didn’t want to waste away as the result of some never-ending mental orgasm; but if the choice was between that or going up against two savage, mad assassins, I think, in a moment of weakness, I might pick exquisite pleasure that didn’t fade or pall. It might take a little getting used to, but I’m sure I would get the hang of it.
“Near the pleasure center,” said Dr. Yeniknani, “there is an area that causes rage and ferociously aggressive behavior. It is also a punishment center. When it is stimulated, subjects experience torment as great as the ecstasy of the pleasure center. This area was wired. Your sponsor felt that this might prove useful in your undertaking for him, and it gives him a measure of influence over you.” He said this in a clearly disapproving tone of voice. I wasn’t crazy about the news, either. “If you choose to use it to your advantage, you can become a raging, unstoppable creature of destruction.” He stopped, evidently not liking how Friedlander Bey had exploited the neurosurgical art.
“My … patron gave this all a lot of thought, didn’t he?” I said sardonically.
“Yes, I suppose he did. And so should you.” Then the doctor did an unusual thing: he reached over and put his hand on my arm; it was a sudden change in the formal atmosphere of our talk. “Mr. Audran,” he said solemnly, looking directly into my eyes, “I have a rather good idea of why you had this surgery.”
“Uh huh,” I said, curious, waiting to hear what he had to say.
“In the name of the Prophet, may peace be on his name and blessings, you need not fear death.”
That rocked me. “Well,” I said, “I don’t think about it very much, I guess. Anyway, the implants aren’t that dangerous, are they? I admit that I was afraid they’d roast my wits if something went wrong, but I didn’t think they could kill me.”