Once more into the Repository

I hung back a bit from the lunch table today, hoping to ride out whatever rant Rachel was in the middle of. From the sound of it, she'd read some kind of unfavorable review of an anime she liked, probably written in 2005 and long-forgotten by its own author.

According to Rachel, westerners don't approach anime with the same intellectual rigor with which they assess other forms of entertainment. And for some reason that turns Rachel's life into a waking nightmare. So cut it out, people.

Once the tirade started winding down, I ambled over and took a seat. Today's lunch was ramen, and if you've never tried a piping hot bowl of Japanese ramen, you absolutely must, because it offers a unique culinary experience. How should I describe it...

Have you ever heated a razor over a flame and then drawn it lengthwise across your tongue?

Yes? You have? Well, that's also what it's like to slurp up a ramen noodle from a freshly-boiling bowl of ramen. But me, I barely got to revel in the sensation before Tadashi waved me away from the table yet again.

We walked back to the Repository of Normal-Sized Things, mostly in silence, until he waved me into the room. Whatever stopped him dead last time we came this way was absent, unless Tadashi possesses an acute and highly situational fear of whiteboards and comfortable chairs. The room was pretty lavish, actually, with high-backed black chairs, tasteful plant life, and a huge window of frosted glass occupying most of the exterior wall. The descending early-afternoon sun was just creeping into the window's field of view. Tadashi left the lights off as we entered.

The whiteboards were clean, though a sharp eye and a ready knowledge of kanji could no doubt glean something from the faint outlines left behind. Aside from the written words, there appeared to be a number of Venn diagrams connected by arrows. Tadashi waved for me to sit down, and we took two chairs on the same side of the table.

Tadashi was silent for a moment. I recognized the expression of someone not sure how to begin.

"Do you know how antidepressants work?" asked Tadashi, finally. Briefly, I contemplated the distressing and thoroughly boring possibility that Tadashi had simply brought me here because I looked mopey.

"Yeah," I said. "Basically, they block receptors which..."

That's where my brain ran out of information. Apparently the number of things I know about antidepressants falls between zero and one.

Tadashi, not much put off by my fractional phrasing, proceeded. "The brain is poorly understood," he said, in what may have been a direct slam at my embarrassing lack of knowledge. "Our company has a solution which serves the same purpose as these drugs."

"What does this have to do with me?" I could have asked. But I sort of suspected that the conversation was headed in that direction, what with me and him being the only people in the room.

"What one brain understands, another can understand," continued Tadashi. "If one brain knows how to be happy, and one does not... Could a method exist to share that information? To use drugs to chemically alter the brain... it is like constructing a digital picture of a tree by typing a sequence of ones and zeroes. It would be better if an existing picture could simply be copied and pasted... yes?"

"That would be great," I said, "And not even a little bit evil."

Of course I didn't say that last part; I'm not stupid.

"Evil?" said Tadashi. Holy hell, I did say that last part! Good lord I'm stupid!

"Errrrgh..." I mumbled. "Well, you didn't expect to get very far into this conversation without me pointing out the ethical gray area of inserting ideas directly into human brains."

We are talking about human brains, right? I've really gone and embarrassed myself if the process only works on bunnies.

"Yes, I expected it," Tadashi said, shifting his weight up in his chair. "But... humans cannot just live in fear-"

"No, no," I said, waving my hand reassuringly. "I'm in."

"Na-" started Tadashi, leaning forward. "Really?"

"Yeah," I said. "I mean... I think you were going to say something about the incredible potential of something that can effect that sort of change in the human mind, that we shouldn't let fear and doubt, um, um-" Shit, I was on a roll. "Shouldn't let fear and doubt keep us from lifting ourselves up as a... species."

Tadashi nodded slowly.

"Even if making people happy is all it can do, we're basically solving humanity's most basic need, right? I mean, it doesn't make people stand around drooling, does it?"

"Eto... The testing is not complete, but no, we do not expect that. The Hyperreal can manage emotions without affecting, eto, productivity."

I stood up and spread my arms. "How can I help?"

I may have been overdoing it at this point.

"As I said, the testing is incomplete," Tadashi said. "The emotional management is created by something, the engineer team calls it... I am sorry, just a moment." He patted his suit pocket and produced a slip of paper. "I had to translate it myself, I hope it makes sense... it is a 'memetic algorithm, harnessing ontological understanding.'"

"So... some kind of logic that understands people's ideas?"

"Yes! The holograms use the algorithm to read, and communicate with, the human mind. But we are concerned about a language barrier. This is why we brought on an English-language team. If the algorithm can learn to communicate with a brain that thinks in English, we feel it will have proven itself."

"We're test subjects, then?"

"As of now... everyone besides yourself, yes."

Well! Dodged a bullet there, didn't I? Anyway, this seems like a good deal, and a serious career move. Whatever informal psych-eval Tadashi's been doing on me, I'm glad I went along with it! We spoke a bit more about what kind of tests we'd have to run, and I went back to finish my lunch.

I had to buy myself a new bowl of ramen, of course, and everyone on my team had already gone back to work. I considered getting the spicy stuff, but honestly, given the incredible heat already present, it seems a bit-

Oh, okay, okay, I know. You don't care about the ramen. You're all like, "Oh, you sure agreed to this mind-control thing quickly. Are you going to do something bad with it?"

And I'm like, what's with all the questions? "Am I gonna do something bad?" How the hell should I know? Am I gonna ask Rachel out on a date? Am I gonna visit Tokyo this month? What am I having for lunch tomorrow?

I don't know what I'm going to do - for one thing, I still don't know a lot about what I'm working with. If it looks like it's going to destroy civilization, then I'll probably stop it, so quit your bellyaching. If it could make me overlord of humanity, then maybe I'll steal it. If it can eliminate discord and strife worldwide, then Tadashi and me will hacksaw a Nobel Peace Prize into two equal pieces. I'm keeping my options open, is what I'm saying.

Oh, and "mind control"? Your words, not mine.