“Anna!” Rowan cried. “That is not a dissection specimen. That’s our dinner.”
“Oh,” she said, and withdrew her finger. “Next you peel away enough skin and tissue to see the ribs.”
Rowan felt a little sick. “Quit it, Anna.”
“But I haven’t come to the really interesting part.” She went right on through cuts two, three, four, and five.
In spite of himself, Rowan found his eyes riveted to the chicken as her knife lightly scored the skin in the dissecting pattern. When she came to incision number six, she said, “You have to be careful not to cut too deeply here, because it it’s a male, you might damage the penis.”
Rowan’s stomach lurched.
“Now the whole abdominal cavity is exposed. You can see the intestines. They look just like a lot of coiled tubes and they really glisten. Then there’s this quivery dark red thing, and that’s the liver. Oh, and I almost forgot.” Anna reached into her slacks pocket and drew out a small plastic bag. She gently turned its contents into her palm. “My teacher said I could have this.”
Rowan gagged. White-faced, he pushed himself up from the table, turned abruptly, and fled from the room. Behind him, he heard Anna say, “What’s the matter?” and then his mother’s voice asking, “What’s wrong with Rowan?” He tore down the hall. When he reached the bathroom, the nausea had passed. Then he thought again of that viscous-looking eye removed from its socket, sitting on Anna’s palm, staring at him, and up it came--everything he’d eaten that day.
Damn Anna anyhow! She knew he had a weak stomach. The one night they had something decent to eat and she had to ruin it for him. She had absolutely no sensitivity herself and no understanding of other people’s. She was a human computer, and that’s all she was. And as far as he was concerned, if someone decided to pull her plug, that would be all to the good.
Rowan added the present incident to the long list he was mentally collecting, called Crimes For Which I Will Never Forgive Anna. Heading that list was the loss of Charlie, the shaggy, wonderful pup whom Rowan, at the age of ten, had waited for all his life. Anna, the Unholy Horror, as he called her, was eight then. Poor Charlie ... if he went anyplace near her, she’d fly into hysterics, even kick him away. Mom said she was phobic. Dad said, “Give her time. She’ll get over it.” But she never did. Instead she developed what the doctor said was an allergy. There was no choice then. Rowan had had to give the dog away. They couldn’t even have a cat.
It was then that Rowan decided that if he didn’t exactly hate Anna, he certainly disliked her intensely. He almost enjoyed adding new crimes to his list. The longer it grew, the less guilt he felt about his distaste for his sister.
Here it is,” Anna declared, pointing to a sign that read INTELLIGENCE-AMPLIFIER. Below it, a smaller sign said the next demonstration would take place in ten minutes.
“I guess we can look around until then,” Rowan said.
They had made good time to the museum in spite of the forty-mile distance from Orange County where they lived and in spite of all the problems it took to go anyplace by public transportation. First, there was the check with INAFT, feeding in their full names, Rowan Timothy Hart, Anna Zimmerman Hart, their address, their destination, then the long wait, and, finally, the screen flashing “All Clear.” After that they’d taken the people-mover, which carried them outside the complex, then the electrobus to the train station. From there, they caught the metroliner that ran above the Santa Ana freeway and directly into
Los Angeles. Still another electrobus took them to the museum. Now they killed time glancing at some of the other exhibits.
Finally Anna said, “Look, there’s a man near the computer. Let’s get up close before the demonstration starts.”
When they approached, a group was already forming around the machine. Anna said, “Pardon me,” and started charging through. She turned back to Rowan. “Come on, Rowan.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him with her. Rather than make a scene, he followed, his face flushed from embarrassment.
Under his breath, he whispered, “You’re just like a bulldozer. Why don’t you just knock everybody down while you’re at it?”
She glanced up at him, her blue eyes expressionless as usual. “Well, how do you expect me to see? I’m little, you know.” Then she turned her attention to the man, who was obviously about to start the demonstration.
The machine, Rowan noticed, was much bigger than their INAFT at home, and looked infinitely more complicated.
“Today, friends,” the demonstrator began, “I am going to give you a preview of things to come and a look at what we have already accomplished with the intelligence-amplifier. It is, of course, programmed to do everything the old computers did--write letters and reports, make instant translations from one language into another, figure complicated math problems in seconds. But that’s not important. What is important is the potential of this superb machine.”
“What’s the potential?” Anna asked loud and clear, to Rowan’s dismay.
The man’s disapproving eyes rested on her briefly, then he went on. “The amount of scientific information has increased so fast, with so many published papers, that it is now impossible to even do a literary search for everything relating to a new research project. Only an intelligence-amplifier can bring together all of the data for use. This machine possesses the potential to unravel every scientific mystery yet conceived. And what’s more--” He paused to consult a card he was holding.
Anna said, “Yes? What’s more?”
He glared at her for an instant, then as if she had made him lose his train of thought, glanced again at the card. “Oh, yes--although we’re not there yet, ultimately we hope to reach the point where we can program the machine to write books in the style of any given person, or music in the style of any given composer.”
God forbid, Rowan thought. If that ever became possible he would be wiped out. Everything he had worked for, everything he had learned--all for nothing. When the day came that machines took over the arts and began creating, Rowan wasn’t sure he wanted to be around.
The demonstrator said, “Now, before I show you some of the intellectual novelties the machine can handle, I think we’ll start with a look at the more traditional uses.” He picked up a small microphone that was attached to the computer. “What I want you to notice is how the machine responds to my voice.” He flipped the switch on the microphone and said, “Three hundred four.” Immediately the figures flashed on a screen. He continued reading numbers into the machine until Rowan counted seventy of them. “Add them,” the man said into the microphone.
“Seven hundred fifty-four thousand, two hundred ninety-one,” Anna said.
In the next second the machine printed 754,291. All eyes fastened on her, the group’s in amused perplexity, Rowan’s in disgust. The demonstrator frowned at her. When he recovered from what appeared to be indignation and shock, he gave a flicker of a smile and said to the audience, “We have all witnessed a mathematical rarity. Can you imagine what the odds must be in guessing that particular number?”
Anna said, “About the same as in that old saw that says if an infinite number of monkeys pounded on an infinite number of typewriters for an infinite amount of time, one of them would eventually produce Hamlet. And I didn’t guess, I added.”
The demonstrator gave the kind of smile that merely indulged another obnoxious youngster. “Well, let’s carry on.”
Rowan whispered, “Anna, if you open your mouth one more time you can just find your way home by yourself.”
She ignored him as the demonstrator flicked a switch that erased the numbers on the machine. Then he again spoke into the microphone. “Find the sum of the first thousand prime numbers where each one is raised to the hundredth power.”
As Anna’s mouth opened, Rowan quickly clapped a hand over it, not releasing her until the machine printed the answer. Then he grabbed Anna by the arm and dragged her away from the group.
“What did you do that for?” she demanded.
“You may not care if everyone knows what a freak you are, but I do. I’m not going to stick around here and let you embarrass me, you . . . you idiot savant.”
Anna mulled that over. Finally she said, “I know what that means and you’re wrong. An idiot savant is brilliant in only one area. I know a lot. And I can’t leave now. That’s all the old stuff he’s doing. He hasn’t gotten to the new things my teacher wants me to see.”
Rowan sighed. “All right. Stay, then. I can do an errand. When he finishes up, you can meet me. There’s a Greenwich Department Store about a block from here. I’ll be in the book department on the main floor.”
“But you never checked with INAFT about going there.”
Rowan pondered. “That’s right, I didn’t.” He shrugged. “Well, I guess sooner or later you’ve got to take a chance.”
Anna agreed to meet him and Rowan left. He made for a music store he knew was only a few blocks distant. There he looked around for some time, bought some rosin and a couple of E-strings, then headed back toward the department store.
When he got there he made for the book department. Anna had not arrived yet. He browsed for a while, then inadvertently glanced across to what turned out to be Junior Ms. Sportswear. There was Anna. And wearing a completely different outfit.
Oh, my God, no! He should have stayed with her. Anna had a way of picking up any little thing that caught her fancy and never paying for it. That was another of her many charming characteristics. Now she was about to walk out of the store with new clothes. And there was absolutely no way she could have paid for them. They didn’t even have a charge at The Greenwich. Rowan dashed across the aisle and stormed into Junior Ms. Sportswear.
Anna was going through a rack of slacks when he reached her side. Angrily, he wrenched her around to face him. Trying to keep his voice low and controlled, he said, “Anna, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you just get yourself back into the dressing room and put on your own clothes.”
She stared at him strangely. “How do you know my name?”
“How do I know your name? What do you mean how do I know your name? Stop being funny and do as I tell you!”
She backed away. “You’re crazy. You leave me alone, or I’ll scream for help.” She glanced frantically around.
“Oh, knock off the act, Anna.” He moved toward her.
“You come one step closer, and I will scream!”
To his surprise, Rowan could see that she really meant what she said. It crossed his mind that, even for Anna, her actions were peculiar. What a weird way to try to make off with stolen clothes. Suddenly he felt absolutely fed up with her. Enough was enough. “All right. If you don’t know me, then I’m not your brother, and I don’t have to take you home. You can just find your way by yourself.” She shook her head. “You really are crazy.”
He opened his mouth to object, then clamped it shut tightly. Without a word, he turned on his heel and strode off. Who cared if his mother got mad at him for abandoning his idiot savant--mostly idiot--sister? This was more than anyone should have to take from anybody.
He’d covered only a few steps along the aisle when the automatic eye opened the glass entry doors and--No, it couldn’t be. He stopped in his tracks and glanced back to where he thought he’d left her. And there she was. She was in Junior Ms. Sportswear and, at the same time, she was coming up the aisle wearing the same outfit she had left home in that morning.
The Junior-Ms.-Sportswear Anna was right. He had to be crazy.
Anna knew little about getting around by herself in the world outside the Apollo. Even the physical exams she had to take every six months because of her allergy were handled by a doctor in the complex. It was a rare occasion that found her outside, and rarer still, alone.
As soon as the demonstration ended, she hurried toward The Greenwich Department Store, feeling a need for the security of Rowan’s company, completely dependent upon his knowledge of a transportation system she seldom used. She also felt uneasy because he had not checked out the store visit with INAFT. Never in her life had she gone anyplace without getting the “All Clear” first. To make matters worse, she saw a large dog coming toward her. Although he was on a leash, Anna ducked quickly into a store entryway to wait until the beast had passed. Not only was she allergic to animals, she was frightened to death of them. When the dog finally disappeared she went on.
Inside the store she felt relieved when she immediately spotted Rowan. Then she noticed the strange expression on his face. Instead of coming toward her, he seemed rooted to the middle of the aisle.
She hurried up to him and said, “Don’t just stand there like a dummy. Come on, let’s go home.”
“Anna?”
“What?”
“Is it really you?”
“Are you crazy, Rowan?”
“I think maybe I am. It is you, isn’t it?”
“Stop being silly.”
He persisted. “You’re Anna Hart? Anna Zimmerman Hart, my sister?”
“Oh, Rowan, quit fooling around. You’re not funny.”
“All right, I’m not funny, but if it’s really you,” he stabbed a finger toward the Junior Ms. Sportswear Department, “then who is that?”
Anna’s glance followed his finger to alight on the back of a girl who was looking through a rack of clothes. “How should I know who she is?” Then the girl turned slightly. Anna saw her profile and realized what Rowan was talking about. “I see what you mean. She looks something like me.”
“Something! She looks exactly like you. Exactly!” Anna took another look. It was an illusion, of course. Probably caused by distance. If the girl were closer she would take on her own identity. Now Anna felt compelled to move toward the girl, hardly aware Rowan was trailing her. Before they reached her, the girl turned fully around. She frowned when she saw Rowan, then her eyes flicked to Anna. In the next instant, her mouth dropped open. Anna, in a perplexed daze, quickly closed the distance between them, and the two stood staring at each other for a long moment. As if of one mind, they both turned to a nearby full-length mirror to scrutinize each other in it and confirm what Anna already knew but couldn’t believe. They looked enough alike to be twins. Identical twins. It was uncanny.