The Ghost Brigades by John Scalzi Read Free Book Online Page A

susceptible to failure on either end of the transfer. But he kept this trick to himself. I only found it after you told me to go looking through his personal work. Which was a lucky thing, since the machine I found this on was slated to be wiped and transferred to the CDF observatory. They want to see how well Consu tech models the inside of a star.”
    Robbins motioned to the hologram. “I think this is a little more important.”
    Wilson shrugged. “It’s actually not very useful in a general sense.”
    â€œYou’re joking,” Robbins said. “We can store consciousness.”
    â€œSure, and maybe that is useful. But you can’t do much with it,” Wilson said. “How much do you know about the details of consciousness transfer?”
    â€œSome,” Robbins said. “I’m not an expert. I was made the general’s adjutant for my organizational skills, not for any science background.”
    â€œOkay, look,” Wilson said. “You noted it yourself—without the brain, the pattern of consciousness usually collapses. That’s because the consciousness is wholly dependent on the physical structure of the brain. And not just any brain; it’s dependent on the brain in which it arose. Every pattern of consciousness is like a fingerprint. It’s specific to that person and it’s specific right down to the genes.”
    Wilson pointed to Robbins. “Look at your body, Colonel. It’s been deeply modified on a genetic level—you’ve got green skin and improved musculature and artificial blood that has several times the oxygen capacity of actual blood. You’re a hybrid of your own personal genetics and genes engineered to extend your capabilities. So on a genetic level, you’re not really you anymore— except for your brain. Your brain is entirely human, and entirely based on your genes. Because if it wasn’t, your consciousness couldn’t transfer.”
    â€œWhy?” Robbins asked.
    Wilson grinned. “I wish I could tell you. I’m passing along what Charlie and his lab crew told me. I’m just the electron pusher here. But I do know that it means that this” —Wilson pointed to the hologram—“does you no good as it is because it needs a brain, and it needs Charlie’s brain, in order to tell you what it knows. And Charlie’s brain has gone missing along with the rest of him.”
    â€œIf this is no damn use to us,” Robbins said, “then I’d like to know why you had me come down here.”
    â€œI said it’s not very useful in a general sense,” Wilson said. “But in a very specific sense, it could be quite useful.”
    â€œLieutenant Wilson,” Robbins said. “Please get to the point.”
    â€œConsciousness isn’t just a sense of identity. It’s also knowledge and emotion and mental state,” Wilson said, and motioned back to the hologram. “This thing has the capacity to know and feel everything Charlie knew and felt right up to the moment he made this copy. I figure if you want to know what Charlie’s up to and why, this is where you want to start.”
    â€œYou just said we needed Boutin’s brain to access the consciousness,” Robbins said. “It’s not available to us.”
    â€œBut his genes are,” Wilson said. “Charlie created a clone to serve his purposes, Colonel. I suggest you create one to serve yours.”
    Â 
    â€œClone Charles Boutin,” General Mattson said, and snorted. “As if one wasn’t bad enough.”
    Mattson, Robbins and Szilard sat in the general’s mess of Phoenix Station. Mattson and Szilard were having a meal; Robbins was not. Technically speaking the general’s mess was open to all officers; as a practical matter no one under the rank of general ever ate there, and lesser officers entered the mess only on the invitation of a general and