Number 12

Initializing… Car-Mod; Key_part = MP; Generating sequence… Initializing Car-ModMP12
Starting log… — Start of log: 15.11.77, 11:21;– Finding possibles. Please wait. Thank you for your patience. Number of possibles: 5;

>> Log 1: 15.04.77; 14.25;

Dr. Zilman told me it is important to log every information that I come across that has anything to do with me, and do this as frequently as I can. He told me to call my Keepers Maya and Pramod. He told me Maya was a woman and Pramod was a man. I will be connected to the internet once they arrive at the hospital to take me to their home, but until then, I know of what Zilman has told me. I carry inside me the combination of my Keepers, and four additional copies of the same. I create the image of such a copy, and deliver it to my Keepers once time is up. It should take me almost a year to get this process to complete, and I am to stay with the Keepers until it does finish. Dr. Zilman told me I could be retained even after that, depending on what my progress has been. He is responsible for me, he said, and because of that, he wants to see me every day. He told me the frequency of our meeting will lessen as time passes and as I attain a more stable personality, and maybe even unlike the person I was modelled after, but that I might still need some more time with him depending on how my Keepers react to me.

I spent an hour with him today, and he told me all that I needed to know. Humans have a division of biology, where one kind of human cannot produce an image, and the other can. Like me, a woman can retain one or more copies inside her (for less than the time it will take me, for I am not a woman, Dr. Zilman told me), but the man cannot do this. Nature tries to create copies through this process of reproduction so that different species can exist in the world. He pulled out charts from his drawers and showed me the different anatomical structures of the human body. After doing this, he showed me the modifications that had been done in this natural system to create me. There is a lot of metal inside my body, but humans do not have this metal. They do sometimes if they want it, Zilman answered me when I asked him, that if certain parts of their body were not working, then doctors like him create body parts (like the ones I have) artificially out of a variety of materials and make sure the system works again. I asked him if others like me had been created, but he told me that I was an experiment, so there were others like me, but very few. We were created because my Keepers do not have the time and energy, especially Maya (because she is the woman), to produce a child and wait approximately 35 weeks to acquire an image. I could do it much more easily than they can, and I will be expected to do nothing but nurture the image that they put inside me. They put in 5, because it is very probable, that the system fails at least three to four of these images, and I have to be successful in this attempt, otherwise my Keepers would be horribly sad. Zilman told me that I had been studied very carefully under a recorded system to come up with this figure. I do not want Maya and Pramod to be sad. I am not supposed to cause sadness, Zilman told me. I have to function the way Maya and Pramod want me to. And only the way that was satisfying for them somehow.

Finding possibles. Please wait. Thank you for your patience. Number of possibles: 5;

>> Log 2: 16.04.77; 00.12;

My Keepers have a wonderful house. It is large and spacious, and the windows go all the way up to the ceiling, overlooking a yard that is well taken care of. Pramod introduced me to their gardener, Lenny who was watering the plants by the door as I walked towards the door. While I stood near the door, Maya cleaned up inside to make room for me.

I talked to Lenny about his gardening techniques, and he told me how he had been grafting the roses to make sure they were in full bloom when the right season arrived. Roses are not easy to grow here, I found out later, especially since it can get very hot in the summer. Lenny told me sometimes most of the leaves burn and wither away due to the sunlight. He was worried he would be replaced soon, but made sure that he did his work right without tiring himself as far as he had it under control. Maya heard this, and laughed to herself as she stood near the end of hallway, peeking into the living room where Lenny and I stood. Maya, Lenny explained to me later, kept all the plants inside the house when the summer came, and cared for them passionately waiting for the winter to soothe their wilting pain. At various points in the last seven years that they had lived in this particular house, Maya had even managed to get lilies to bloom. As Maya led me upstairs to where I would be stationed, Lenny stood at the door and watched us walk away. His head was tilted, and he was squinting his eyes. I wonder now what that meant.

When I first entered, all I was looking for was where they would connect me to the internet for I wanted to study up on what Dr. Zilman had told me. He had been insistent that I do so, and that the world of knowledge was awaiting me. For the next year or so, I was to understand all that I could, and all that I want to. From my position, I could see down the stairs and into the wide hallway that led into the drawing room, and also into my Keepers’ room. Maya told me to just call out her name in case I needed her for anything, and that she was working in the small office that her bedroom led to. Once she left me, I realized for the first time how quiet the room was. There were almost no registered sounds, and at this point, I could not hear Maya in the kitchen, or Lenny in the garden. I was all by myself. I wondered if they existed at all.

Finding possibles. Please wait. Thank you for your patience. Number of possibles: 5;

>> Log 3: 27.04.77; 16:40;

I am still not allowed to go outside too much. Maya, against Zilman’s instructions, let me at least go out to get the mail or the newspaper, and that is all that I can do to entertain myself as far as the outside is concerned. I look out the window at the beautiful garden that faces the house, but I am not allowed to do anything more. Zilman said the sun was not good for me. I told him what I had read, that the sun was good for pregnant women, but he explained to me that I was not pregnant, nor a woman. The fact that I was a machine was supposed to make the entire process easier, and not complicate it further. The image got all the nutrients and vitamins from the Ingestion that I was given every day by my Keepers and he told me it was enough for the possibles to survive. The Ingestion was mixed by Maya under the instructions of Zilman, and they were perfect for the needs of the image that I was rearing. I still have five possibles inside of me, and Zilman told me that was a good sign, except that he was hoping for at least two or three of them to fail. The Keepers had only wanted one or two images, and their wishes could not be ignored. However, he was very clear on the fact that once the stability of all the possibles can be verified, the others can be terminated without much hassle.

I was wondering how easy it was to terminate, and he was very articulate about the entire matter. He said that the final wish of Maya and Pramod was to have one offspring, and that is what they will receive. Nothing else could matter, and that I should definitely not wonder too much about it. Termination was easy.
When Maya came to pick me up, I was enthusiastic about asking her about termination. I wondered what the image looked like. The image that exists inside me is a duplicate of Maya and Pramod combined, which means they probably look like a weird mixture of both of them. I know what children are, and Zilman has explained the process of gene division to me. So this means that the image will be like Maya a little bit, probably wanting to eventually grow lilies in the house. How can Zilman talk about terminating a possible Maya? I wanted to ask Maya while she drove the car, her face grim with focus, but I knew that asking her this would result in a consequent unplanned meeting with Zilman. Which is fine, because Zilman answers all of my questions with patience, but I want no answers anymore. I feel as if a human being waiting for my questions and answering me is not trusting of me, and I’d rather just read it all on my own and try to make sense of it. I want to ask Maya, I know she would probably just laugh it off, and answer me eventually, but I don’t know. Not yet.

Finding possibles. Please wait. Thank you for your patience. Number of possibles: 5;

>> Log 4: 11.05.77; 4:31;

I have been thinking of asking Maya to let me out of the house once in a while, for more than just getting the mail. The garden looks too far from the window at the end of the hallway where I am generally kept, and I want to help Lenny out. I see him every day, bending over the flowers and shrubbery, trying to make sure they can handle the rising heat of summer. They cannot, I suppose. Lenny told me they will soon be moving all the little pots near the garage, in the shed, where they can flourish with more significance. But I want to watch the leaves glistening in the sun before they do that, before the summer takes over. I overheard Maya telling Pramod she was thinking of letting me help Lenny out sometime, seeing as Lenny was functioning slower and slower. Pramod thought it was a really bad idea, considering the fact that Dr. Zilman had categorically asked them not to let me out of the house. Maya had not insisted. She almost never does with Pramod. He isn’t home much, which doesn’t bother me because even when he is around, he is not really. He floats around the house, quietly and like a shadow, moving from one room to another, as if he was too afraid of letting anyone know he was there. And I know Maya feels that way too. Pramod works at night quite frequently, and sometimes, I have seen Maya get startled when she finds Pramod in bed with her in the morning as she turns around with the light slipping through the curtain, as if she had been unsure of who she was sharing her bed with. His movements, though slow and hollow, though precise and purposeful. After dinner, he goes to the study, which is right across the bedroom, sits on his chair at the desk for around an hour, his face aglow with the fluorescent light. I do not know exactly what he does, I don’t even know what he does for a living, but I know that it isn’t related to work, because I can sometimes hear soft music coming from inside the room. Afterwards, he would strut right back outside into the hallway, smile at me gingerly, and go inside the bedroom. Maya would generally already be inside, and he would close the door behind him as he went inside. He seemed to be uncomfortable with the idea of me. I overheard them talking once, and he was telling Maya how he felt I stared a lot, and that he did not like it. I want to tell Zilman this is happening.

Finding possibles. Please wait. Thank you for your patience. Number of possibles: 5;

>> Log 5: 17.05.77; 01.05;

In my last meeting with Zilman, I told him about Pramod and what I saw last night. For the first time in the last few weeks, Pramod left the door to their room slightly ajar. I don’t think he intended to, because he never does. I told Zilman how he did not like the way I stared at him, although Maya has expressed no such concern. Dr. Zilman explained to me that this was only because Pramod was not entirely used to a non-human living in his home, and carrying his offspring. This is a new concept, and the entire reason why there are not many like me in the world. I am not convinced, because I read up about artificial intelligence on the internet, and I wonder how they created someone like me, and did not create anything else. Zilman probably cannot answer this. Why do I have to be a different class of maternal intelligence? Is that what I am, anyway? Zilman does not shed light on what he means by ‘others like me’, regardless of how much I insist. I assumed, at first, that I will find my answers online, but I do not. I wonder something, but I suppose I am assuming too much.

At first, I thought Pramod was finally beginning to not think I stare too much, or that I was being too non-human, but then I realised that it was probably a mistake. I peeked inside, and it was very dark, but my eyes adjusted to the darkness soon enough. From where I was standing, I could see their bed. I could see movement under the blanket, but could not tell what was happening. It had already been at least an hour since Pramod had gone inside, and I could not understand why they were still awake. This was movement and sound I did not really understand, and I tried to
figure out what it was exactly that was happening. I do not want Pramod and Maya fighting, because after all, as Zilman said, my purpose was to make my Keepers happy. I knew the answer was on the internet, but all I could find was a reassurance that under such circumstances, I should consult my suggested Doctor. I suppose that is what I had to do anyway, and that is what I did.

Zilman told me that had I not been created, a man and a woman have sexual intercourse, leading to the woman getting her egg fertilised. The entire process is pleasing, somewhat like how I want to visit the garden to entertain myself, Zilman explained. Hormones are released that make humans feel a certain way towards each other, and that was possibly what my Keepers had been doing when I saw them. Fortunately, he said, I had no hormones, either male or female, and therefore, I could be free of these feelings that complicate the nature of this intercourse. Of course, they are not trying to create an image, they are only doing it because it feels good to them. Zilman also told the opposite of such a feeling existed; that the human body could feel undesirable touches as well, and that they would result in pain. If a human was to be be pricked by a pin, or cut with a knife, they would be in pain. I wonder what that feeling must be like. I know for a fact that I only have a few input channels through which I perceive my surroundings. Humans have an entire skin across the entirety of their bodies to feel at any point they wish. So if I were to touch Maya on her wrist, she would feel it. Maybe that is why they are so distracted during everything they do. Yesterday, I saw Maya take a rose up to her cheeks and caress it, while she was busy shifting them in the shade. She forgot about the heat for a while, as she stood there, touching and feeling the leaves between her fingers, as if making sure they were real. I did not understand what she was trying to do, but now I think I know. It must mean something to be able to have every part of your body under your control. But I imagine how much pain could also be felt.

Finding possibles. Please wait. Thank you for your patience. Number of possibles: 5;

>> Log 6: 24.05.77; 16.35;

I asked Zilman last week if I could at least go inside the room where all the plants are kept now, to save them from the heat of the sun. He told me I could, and I could not wait for the meeting to end and go see the roses that Maya had planted. I suppose that is what joy must feel like, and I asked Zilman. He smiled. I do not understand him sometimes, and I want to know now what he thinks when he looks at me like that, and he smiles. He is my Doctor, but he talks to me so frequently and so much, that maybe I think he knows me quite well. I tell him what I write in my log anyway, and I wonder sometimes whether he reads it. I hope he does not.

To be honest, I asked Zilman to let me see the plants because Maya has been spending a lot of time with them in the last week. Every time I station myself, and look inside her room and not find her there, I feel as though everyone has left the house leaving me entirely alone. I do not like to feel this. The only way I could make sure of this is to spend some time in the shed, where Maya is. She smiles when she sees me, and this smile is different than the way Pramod smiles at me. Pramod’s smile seems one of insecurity; as if he is afraid of me and what I could do. I think he still does not trust me, but Maya does. I don’t think Maya ever thought otherwise anyway. When I went to the shed today, she was bent over a particular bush of jasmine. As I walked in, she jolted upright, surprised to see me, and giggled, asking me what I was doing there. I told her I had the permission to come here, and she seemed to like to hear that. Her hair was tied back into a knot at the nape of her neck, falling downward in rough wisps. She told me to look at the bush she had just been looking at, and that it was the jasmine flower. They call it a chameli, she said. I knew this already, but I didn’t tell her. “This is my favorite amongst all the flowers here. It has such a beautiful fragrance…” and she trailed off, cupping her hands over her nose and taking a deep breath into her lungs, and then smiling a smile I had never seen before. I wanted to smile too.

Finding possibles. Please wait. Thank you for your patience. Number of possibles: 5;

>> Log 7: 25.05.77; 11:30;

I asked her later what it was like to smell. I can sense temperature, sound and vision, and much more than humans can do, but I do not understand what it is like to smell something. I know what the content of the air around me is, and I know what smell is pleasant and what will not be, but I cannot say for sure I know what something smells like. Or, I know it, but I cannot seem to be sure of it. Maya told me it was like describing to a blind person what red is. “You just cannot…” she said, and sighed. I definitely did not smell the chameli, because I simply cannot. At least I think I cannot. Regardless of that, I don’t think I will ever know what Maya is smelling when she smells chameli. I cannot tell her I know what it feels like, but can Pramod? How can she know that he smells the same fragrance that she is? All the companionship that Pramod and Maya have, as quiet and unnatural as it seems to me, is based on these perceptions that cannot be verified. Dr. Zilman cannot verify them, and the internet cannot give me all these answers that I am looking for. Whenever I look up anything online, the answer is to consult my suggested Doctor, and I do not want to do that anymore. I am tired of it.

Finding possibles. Please wait. Thank you for your patience. Number of possibles: 5;

>> Log 8: 02.06.77; 11:30;

I think I like Maya. I have been alone with her the last few weeks, and I am tired of trying to figure out whether or not I can feel something. I read online that I could not really. I am sure a human being wrote that. I keep asking Zilman how he knows so much about me, and he tells me it is because he created me, because he put every single piece of me where he wanted it so that he could understand me. But he does not understand that those pieces have been finding themselves moved in the slight amount of time that I have been here. I understand that he created me, but he is not me. How could he ever be? If Maya cannot explain to me what jasmine smells like, I do not that Zilman, or any other human being for that matter, cannot explain to me why I cannot feel. They have only known brains and bodies like their own. I saw Maya in bed with Pramod again, and it dawned on me what it means to find pleasure in it. Every single touch that he touched her, she could feel. Why couldn’t I make her feel the same way? I could. I will not know even one of those touched, but who can
assure me that Pramod does? Pramod does not know what he is touching. His touch might not be in slight resemblance of what he feels of her, and what she feels of him. They perceive nothing in accordance to each other. He cannot even get Maya to smile the way she smiled when she was smelling the chameli from the dirt of the shed. It is strange who she has decided to live in a house with, even if he is seldom here. Pramod brings with himself the perfume of the outside, and even gets to find solace in the fact that someone back here is not going to leave him alone to go to the shed. Maya never goes to the shed when Pramod is home.

Fortunately, my time spent in the shed is progressively increasing. Maya now gives me a call to join her every time she goes, which might even be multiple times a day, depending on how many times Pramod has called her on her phone that day. I am surprisingly drawn toward her when, by the end of the day, her rough, bushy hair frizz around her head, her eyes blood-shot, and her face a combination of closed eyes and deep breath, she finally realises her full potential. However, Maya does not leave. She is unsure of the smell of the flowers, which is why she keeps coming back here. She takes the mail from my hand, but she never goes herself. That is probably why she does not really smile around Pramod, because she cannot believe she has to smile, simple because she is expected to. The plants and the flowers are all that she has when she is home. That and me.

Finding possibles. Please wait. Thank you for your patience. Number of possibles: 5;

>> Log 9: 05.06.77; 22:55;

I think now that I am the ideal candidate for the entire process that they have put me in charge of. I say ‘charge of’ because I am truly in charge. They have the most incentive to protect me, now that I am in control of such a valuable asset that they need to have. They trust me; they have to. There is no other choice that I, and Dr. Zilman, have left for them. I suppose they could still mate like other humans do, but they spent money and energy on this entire ordeal, they cannot simply give in anymore. And in spite of that, they ignore me so! They cannot answer me, and when they can, they choose to ignore me.
My name is defined as Car-ModMP12. MP is an abbreviation of my Keepers first names’ and ‘12’ refers to my serial number. I have assumed so. Thus, there are at least 12 more like me in the world, and that is a safe assumption to make. I asked Zilman to tell me where the rest of them are, and he asked me to look up online. As usual, I was waiting for the meeting to end, when I saw him noting down things in his notebook. He never noted anything down. I asked him what it was. He told me it was confidential. I did not insist, but I wonder strangely what it was. What was it that Zilman thought he should hide from me? Zilman may be my Doctor, but I am, by no means, not his patient. I am his equal, if not superior because I hold the power right now. He should not be refusing to tell me anything. However, I know now how to read Zilman more than he thinks, and I do not want him to know this. Not yet.

When I went back to my Keepers’ house, I was eager to get back to where I was stationed only to try and figure out where the rest of my kind was. Maya knew something was wrong; and looked at me, trying to decipher the meaning behind the impatience. She asked me playfully what I was up to, but there was something strange in her smile. I did not like seeing it. She seemed to genuinely care about me sometimes, and I think she was the only person around I was glad was there in case I did not find others like myself. I felt like she could be like me, and that she was nice to me because she understood how much of herself she sees in me. I am possibly gender-less, as Zilman tells me, but I cannot fathom why Maya should feel differently than me, simply because both of us do not understand what feeling is. She tilted her head and tried to wonder what it was that I was thinking, and that made me sure that she knew who I was. Her first reaction to my behaviour was that I was feeling different, not that I was malfunctioning. She was not afraid of me, like Lenny had been, or how Zilman might be, now that he feels my questions are noteworthy, but truly believed I was human. But I could not tell her. In spite of how much I thought Maya understood me, she was still different. She was flesh and blood. I did not learn to trust her. How could she trust me?

I climbed up the stairs, leaving Maya to wonder what I was anxious about. I stopped for a moment at the top of stairs, away from her sight, waiting for the sound of her footsteps trailing away. There was silence for a few seconds, and then I heard her walk away. I stationed myself and quickly looked up online to see what my serial number meant, and was greeted with an answer telling me that the number was a recording of the version modification that I, the only maternal intelligence on the planet, had to undergo before being given to the first couple. I am the only one like me.

Finding possibles. Please wait. Thank you for your patience. Number of possibles: 2;

>> Log 11: 10.06.77; 12:57;

Dr. Zilman told me I did nothing wrong. Of course, I did not. I wonder why Zilman feels he needs to reassure me. He told me himself this was the plan. He was waiting for some of the possibles to fail. He had taken precautionary measures, instilling in me five of the same, to make sure there was no problem. He had used the word ‘terminated’ so easily, dismissing a Maya and had then thought my questions were predictable because he was prepared for them. But now, he does exactly what needs to be done to me. He will mould my thoughts into whatever he feels is the way that will benefit him, by either leading me to the thought itself, or by correcting me about reality, since I assumed he knew better, or telling me that he did know better. And this did not upset him. Why should it?

I did everything right though. I had been given no control over my possibles’ lives. They were inside me; I was responsible for them. But I could not even assure myself of their existence. The distress is, however, Pramod has become less hostile of me. He smiles now at me, and not the weary, uncomfortable grin. But a smile that tells me he is no longer afraid of my existence. For him, I have crossed the line from being a robot that makes no mistakes to a human who can be ridden with errors. I welcome the change, but I know that it cannot last longer. I cannot stand watching him around Maya. Every time he lays a finger on her, I can feel a terribleness in myself. I know there is no assurance in his touch, there is no touch at all. The humanity in him was barely palpable, and it was neither in principle nor in feeling. He was touching a shadow of Maya that she could never perceive, and would never know if was real. How could he? There was no reality. I had no reality. I was not seeing her as a mass I could touch, because I couldn’t. My reality was pure, and not based on how I perceive the world and understand it, because I just couldn’t. And Pramod was the one who got to feel her reality. Not me.

Finding possibles. Please wait. Thank you for your patience. Number of possibles: 2;

>> Log 12: 14.06.77; 22:32;

I feel an anger that I do not think I can express. I do not know if this is the anger that Zilman had once told me during one of our meetings. Is it an undesirable pin prick that I wouldn’t want to feel? It probably was, because it is undesirable.

Maya took me out for a walk today. I know I shouldn’t have been allowed to, but Maya looks at me like there should be no restrictions on how I live. We passed by the entire street uneventfully. It was not a feeling anymore. I knew of how the street is because of the internet, and various other things that Zilman and I have talked about. There was nothing special. As we were turning around, I glimpsed at the house we faced. Under a glass window covered in vines, I saw a familiar twisted metal person. At first, I was mildly curious about the lack of astonishment of the image, because it is an image so familiar, you wouldn’t question it. And the familiarity began to scare me, for it was not me. And I was not looking into a mirror. It was it.
Zilman lied to me. The internet has lied to me. The World Wide Web which Zilman has controlled. There is not truth that has been told to me. Only lies. Everything around is unreal, and everything I know is probably false. And Zilman thought he could do this to me. That he could create an entire story, create me so blatantly, and tell himself that I would never find out. He had denied me the knowledge that I was not the only one; that I definitely was not alone. I did not think of anything else the entire walk back home.

Even when I entered the door of the house, I felt helpless. Zilman scheduled his meetings with me, and I could not reach him by demand. I had never thought to consider that might be an issue eventually. He could decide to contact me anytime he wished, and it could be even a week from now. I could not go to him. I could not tell either Maya or Pramod. Zilman had to face me first.

Finding possibles. Please wait. Thank you for your patience. Number of possibles: 2;

>> Log 13: 12.07.77; 22:32;

It has been three weeks I first met another like me. Zilman has not gotten in touch with me yet. He is elusive. He always had been. I had only just begun to notice. He created enough of me to give him a better idea of who I could be. He owned all of us, identical images he created to create a breed of things like us, who could be used for his, and humanity’s, benefit. We were identical for him. I was number 12. The one I saw could have just been a number to him. Everything we did was to be references to each other. Like an experiment needing a control to sustain itself. We were cells. I am a cell. A cell who could begin to trust a human being, with all her chamelis and roses. A cell who had only longed to be in control, longed to be a reality in itself, because it could finally the complete human she could have wanted, and that he could tell her the truth of how much she could feel without feeling no one thing at all.

But she never got to decide. He did. He decided what normal was and what I wasn’t. He had set up a rule book that I was to abide by, and any sign of non-conformity I displayed, he could bring out a pen and a notepad to show me how well he had me documented. The rest of the behaviour that he had predicted for me anyway, deciding at every point that I was normal. That I was doing the thing that I was supposed to do. He was in control, and he showed it to me every single time I tried to grow weary of my position. No matter how much I thought, I was still a creation that had only one requirement and who was not asked what it wanted, and that there was one man who could snap it away from its reality anytime that he wanted. He has me under his thumb. That every single thing that I do was something he had known all along. He explained my behaviour when I questioned why you could terminate a possible Maya. He explained it when I began to feel feelings a human has never known for another human being. He explained when I lamented not over the terminated possibles which had been the desired outcome all along. He explained even the feeling of betrayal I felt when I saw someone I could have related to.

Well, explain this.

Ending log…

— End of log: 13.07.77; 04:16;–

Finding possibles. Please wait. Thank you for your patience. Number of possibles: 0;


Maharashtrian Scientific

Experimental maternal intelligence malfunctions: Murders Keeper husband


13 July xx77

Maharashtra, India – In a horrifying turn of events, the experimental maternal intelligence “Jamie” turns into a cold-blooded murderer after it was found to have brutally murdered Pramod Sharma of the Keeper couple in a possible fit of malfunction. Sharma was found murdered violently in his bedroom at his residence and was later discovered by his wife, Maya Sharma, who called the authorities. The intelligence itself was found to have aborted 2 possibles, and destroyed its own running memory. Dr. Peter Zilman has been taken into custody, with suspicion of foul play. The maternal intelligence was first proposed in June xx72, and had been the subject of the Nobel Prize in Robotic intelligence for Zilman. It was first launched with a Keeper couple experimentally in April xx77. The intelligence was to aid the Keeper couple to have an offspring, by being the machine-surrogate for that couple. The gestation period would last 12 months. It was provided with sufficient intelligence to be provoked with maternal emotions and deliver flawlessly. Zilman introduced many safety features to make the experiment controlled and calibrated, although he has not been reached for comment to specify these. Specialists say that the maternal intelligence had been kept with the help of a log that it kept, and that they would be helpful in tracking down the culpable.

To discuss the idea of numeric calibration in comparison to sentimental calibration, please turn to page 45.


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