Privideniya - Chapter 5

Notes: I won't blame you if you want to kill me after this chapter.

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Ocelot didn’t need to look up to know what the expression on Novikov’s face must have been like at that moment. His pale eyebrows were drawn up curiously, arching over the square frames of his glasses – watching him the same way he’d watch a butterfly with a pin through its guts.

If Ocelot let on now that he was surprised, even just a little, it would be bad for his image and worse for Novikov’s ego. He took a moment to compose himself before looking up. “Is this the pilot?” he asked evenly.

Novikov’s lips twitched. That wasn’t the reaction he had been hoping for. It was remarkable that a grown man could pout so effectively; Novikov must have been very used to getting what he wanted. “I’m surprised you don’t recognize him, Shalashaska.”

“I recognize him,” Ocelot said. He set a gloved hand on Innokenty’s head, giving his hair a little ruffle. “Olga’s boy, aren’t you?”

“That’s what they tell me, Sir,” Innokenty said.

Ocelot nodded slightly, looking back to Novikov. “He’s rather… composed for his age, isn’t he?”

“Indeed,” Novikov said. “His mental growth is unprecedented. We hadn’t anticipated that, but it was a fortuitous side effect of the experiment.”

“You mean his training is responsible?”

“Not his training exactly. The machine itself.”

“The Metal Ge--?”

“Shh.” Novikov raised a hand, cutting Ocelot off. “We don’t like to use that name around the lab. It makes people nervous. Besides, a Metal Gear is just a weapon, Shalashaska.”

Ocelot narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying that’s not what you’re building here?”

Novikov exchanged a glance with Innokenty and something unspoken - a private joke - traveled between them. “That’s like saying Vostok was just another rocket. Technically it's true, but putting it that way robs it of all its significance." His lips twitched into a little smile. “I must say, Shalashaska, I’m surprised that you haven’t been properly briefed on this matter…”

Ocelot shrugged. “The ones who sent me must not have the same appreciation of semantics that you do.”

“Semantics?” Novikov looked annoyed. “Well, I’m not surprised that they would say something like that. They’ve never been here, you know. They haven’t seen what I’m doing.”

“Who do you mean, Doctor?” It was an incautious question, one that would make any experienced agent cautious, but Ocelot was having a difficult time getting a lock on how much Novikov knew.

Besides, Novikov was anything but an experienced agent. “The mob. The government. The Ministry of Defense. Whoever is financing this." He waved his hand dismissively. "I don’t particularly care whom I’m answering to, as long as they keep transferring my funds on time.”

“All in the name of science, I’m sure.”

“Of course, Shalashaska. The pursuit of knowledge is what defines a man, isn’t it?” He stepped back, setting his hand on the door. "We have an obligation to counteract ignorance where we find it. So come with me, and I'll explain everything."

Ocelot rolled his eyes, but followed Novikov's lead. Innokenty turned back long enough to pick up his pistol, tucking it into the back of his jeans before catching up to them at the door.

"Think you're going to need that?" Ocelot asked him.

The boy shook his head. "It's important to always be prepared, don't you think, Sir?"

"Just like a Boy Scout, hmm?"

Innokenty blinked. "Pardon me, Sir?"

Novikov glanced over his shoulder. "Now, now. It's not nice to tease the poor boy." He motioned to the sofa in the corner of the lab. "Have a seat."

Ocelot nodded. "Thank you." But he stayed standing.

Novikov leaned against the wall, folding his arms over his lab coat. "Shalashaska," he said. "Over the last century, weapons development has become a different sort of science than it ever was before. Before the atomic bomb, advancements in weaponry moved in a very predictable pattern. Stone, to bronze, to iron. Gunpowder, to explosives, to armored tanks and planes. Do you see? In the past, it was sufficient to use weapons that relied on brute strength. The only thing that ensured victory was quick and efficient slaughter."

"But that's not true any longer?"

Novikov shook his head. "Really, I'm surprised you'd say that. You came out of the Cold War, and so you ought to know better than anyone… Nuclear weaponry was the final trump card. If you create a weapon so powerful that using it will ensure your own destruction as well as your enemy's, then you've failed. It doesn't matter how powerful nuclear weapons become, they're already too powerful to be of any use. So, how do you take the next step forward? How do you make a stronger weapon?"

Ocelot raised an eyebrow. He knew exactly what Novikov wanted to hear. "You don't," he said easily. "You make a smarter weapon."

"Exactly," Novikov said. "Guided missiles, stealth planes, ARSENAL Gear… In classical warfare, two armies would line up on opposing hilltops. They'd spend a day hacking each other to pieces, and at night leave the corpses for the vultures. I'm sure you would find that amusing, Shalashaska, but it's simply not viable anymore. Why send a thousand men into battle, when you can send only one to infiltrate the enemy's ranks and bring them down from within? Much less messy that way."

"Is that what you think?" Ocelot sighed quietly. Novikov liked listening to himself talk. Ocelot knew already that it might be a long time before the doctor got around to telling him what he needed to know. These days, he wasn't very good at being patient…"I appreciate the history lesson, but what does that have to do with your… machine?"

Novikov smiled thinly. "Are you familiar with Deep Blue, Shalashaska?"

"The chess computer?"

"Yes," Novikov said. "A machine capable of generating and analyzing 200 million chess positions in three minutes. A human grandmaster can calculate only about 500 in the same amount of time. A machine like that should have been able to beat any human being on the planet, yet in two consecutive matches, it lost to human opponents. Do you know why that is?"

Ocelot tilted his chin back. "Why, Doctor?"

Novikov laughed. "To be honest, I haven't a clue. No one does, not really, and that's the point. It's impossible for any human to know exactly how the human mind works. As Kant said, the mind can never completely know itself. We know that things like instinct and intuition exist, but we don't know why. We don't know how to define them, and so we will never be able to create an exact artificial replica of the human mind."

"Sounds like your research is a failure then," Ocelot said. "A little anticlimactic, don't you think?"

"Oh, no, far from it." Novikov smiled. "Because… a human mind was never what I set out to create. I wanted something better."

"Oh?" Ocelot didn't sound convinced. "And how do you propose to do that?"

"Hybridization," Novikov said. "The fusion of a human brain and a super computer." He laced his fingers together. "A new entity, with the benefits of both, and the drawbacks of neither."

Ocelot shook his head. "If that were true, then it would mean the machine is…"

"Alive?" Novikov smirked. "That's very perceptive of you."

"How?" Ocelot demanded.

"No need to get impatient. Haven't I been candid with you so far?" He leaned back again. "As you know, we have been experimenting with a system that simulates organic life in machines for some time now. The Americans were the first to put it into practice seven years ago. Simulated low-level brain functions were included in the programming of their Metal Gear RAYs. If I recall, you had the opportunity to pilot one. Did you notice it?"

"I'm not entirely sure what I was looking for," Ocelot said. It was the safest answer he could give.

"The machine would have responded to attacks launched against it, for instance…"

"Are you saying that RAY could feel pain?"

Novikov smiled. A thin, secretive smile that made Ocelot's temples throb with irritation. Something about this man got under his skin…

"Not exactly," Novikov said. "But the machine does register each impact, and is programmed to react by bringing damaged sections of the body out of the range of fire, and automatically counterattacking with machine gun turrets. The RAY unit you and Sergei Gurlukovich were so… brazen as to procure had a very early model of the system. However, the RAYs that were mass-produced at the Big Shell facility had a more advanced version, one which gave them the equivalent of basic animal responses to danger. Fight or flight, if you will. I heard there was quite a scuffle on board ARSENAL Gear with some of the units. If that was the case, then you must have noticed it: heavily damaged RAYs withdrawing from battle and allowing other units to take their places…"

"A machine with self-preservation, then? Amusing, but what does it accomplish?"

"Much," Novikov said. "Like an injured human, a damaged unit can be repaired more easily and more cost effectively than it can be replaced."

"Ah, so it's purely economical."

Novikov shook his head. "Never. Because, you see, Shalashaska, for all the US military's sound and fury over the development of the RAY units, they were really nothing more than crude prototypes for our own Matryona."

Ocelot raised an eyebrow. "Which means?"

When Novikov spoke, there was a smile in his voice that wasn't on his lips. "Which means, that while the Americans are still fucking around at the kids table, I've taken their system and made it perfect."

"Impressive," Ocelot said. Telling Novikov what he wanted to hear would keep him talking long enough for Ocelot to get the information he needed out of him. "And more than a little intimidating. How did you do it?"

Novikov nodded, pleased. "Actually, it was Kesha here who was the key."

"Indeed? But he's only a child, Doctor." Ocelot glanced at Innokenty. The boy looked calm, as though accustomed to being talked about like he wasn't there.

"Yes," Novikov said, "but it hasn't stopped him from doing great things. It's as I said: there is no way to artificially replicate the human mind. My predecessors spent decades trying and never achieved satisfactory results. But it was I, Shalashaska, who realized there was no need for a replica at all. Not when there are plenty of perfectly good human minds already."

"I thought experimenting on humans was frowned upon."

"Oh, yes," Novikov said. "But did you know that most people only use an estimated ten percent of their brains? Psychics, genetically modified humans; they may use two to five percent more, but that's all. With all that untapped potential, I find it difficult to think of what I'm doing here as unethical."

"And, what exactly are you doing, Doctor?" Ocelot said.

“Well…” Novikov lifted one hand, waving Innokenty closer. He brushed some of the boy’s blond hair away from his temple. A pale, razor-straight surgical scar slashed across his skin, disappearing into his hairline.

“Bio-mechanical implants,” Novikov said, letting Innokenty go. The boy stepped back, out of the way. “They operate on the same basic technology as Codec, but we’ve adapted them to resonate with his neurological impulses. There are similar devices in use in the machine’s onboard computer system. They’re tuned to the same frequency, providing an uninterrupted flow of data back and forth.”

Novikov grinned, obviously pleased. Ocelot’s expression didn’t change. “And what exactly does that mean, Doctor?”

Novikov’s smile vanished, and he sighed. “It means, they’re like two networked computer terminals, passing information back and forth to each other. This conversation, everything Kesha experiences, is being transmitted to Matryona’s computer. Only it’s not a direct transmission. It’s been filtered through Kesha’s mind, colored by his perspectives…”

“And so you think he’s teaching your machine to think like a human.”

“Yes.” Novikov nodded. “Precisely. By the time we’re through, we’ll have a seamless combination of computational logic and human intuition. Now do you see why Matryona isn’t just a Metal Gear, Shalashaska? She was never intended to be controlled by men; she was intended to replace them. Imagine a commanding officer who never makes a mistake, capable of analyzing a combat situation in moments and making an instantaneous decision about how to best proceed…”

Ocelot felt a little sting of resentment at Novikov’s words, as though the young man had meant them personally. Novikov had been shooting sly insults at him since they had meant, but Ocelot knew this wasn’t one of them. To Novikov, it was completely natural that his machine would replace human warriors.

Even Ocelot, after all, had his share of mistakes behind him…

“That’s fascinating, Doctor,” he said evenly. “If it works, that is. But that doesn’t explain the pilot.” He glanced at Innokenty. The boy straightened a little under his scrutiny. “Why a child?”

“Kesha came to us very young, which actually made him the ideal candidate for the program,” Novikov said. “Humans begin to develop language very early in their mental growth. To avoid snags in communication, we wanted him to begin exchanging information with the computer before his linguistic development progressed too far. Kesha was only six months old when we implanted the transmitters. Likewise, Matryona’s onboard computer was still relatively early in the programming phase. One could say that human and machine grew up together, like a cat and dog which are raised together from a young age, and in adulthood behave similarly. It has… produced some unexpected side effects, hasn’t it, Kesha?”

The boy nodded slightly. He looked straight ahead, past both of them. “Advanced learning via subconscious projection. I think.”

“Which means?” Though Ocelot was looking at Innokenty, Novikov answered for him. “While the computer is learning from the man, it seems the man is also learning from the computer. He’s a five-year-old reading at a high school level. He’s recently taught himself calculus…”

“He’s a genius, then?”

“Hardly,” Novikov said. “In IQ tests, he routinely scores between 120 and 130. Smart…” He smiled thinly at Innokenty. “But not that smart. He simply has the intellect of an adult, though physically and emotionally he’s still a child.”

Ocelot nodded slowly. Something in Novikov’s words pricked at him, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. After a moment, the feeling passed. “It sounds like you’re doing great things here. It makes me wonder what you need me for.”

“Rest assured, Shalashaska, we’ll make good use of you.” Novikov laughed. “You have a very specific field of expertise.”

"All I know with any certainty, Doctor, is war."

"Exactly. You'll be helping with Kesha's training. We've been having him study the combat data of some of the greatest warriors of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Big Boss and his sons, the members of Foxhound, Dead Cell, and their Russian and Middle Eastern counterparts…" Novikov glanced up. "Don't worry, Shalashaska. You made the cut."

"What a relief," Ocelot muttered.

"At any rate," Novikov said, "We'll be having you oversee that portion of the training. As he will be passing what he learns on to Matryona, it's very important that nothing be lacking."

"I understand," Ocelot said. "You don't have anything to worry about, Doctor. I haven't had an assignment this easy in sixty years. It's like a vacation." He tried to laugh, but the sound didn't come out quite the way he wanted it to.

"Well, Innokenty," Ocelot continued, turning to glance at the boy. "It seems you and I are going to be getting well acquainted, aren't we?" Ocelot frowned. "Innokenty?"

The boy didn't answer. He looked pale, and he wavered slightly on his feet. There was a thin sheen of sweat on his temples, and his eyes were focused on some point far past the two of them.

"Shit…" Novikov muttered under his breath. He stepped forward, taking Innokenty's elbow. "Kesha, what have I told you?"

"I know," Innokenty said hoarsely. "But it really wasn't that bad. I didn't think I should…" He stiffened abruptly on Novikov's hold, wrapping both arms around his stomach. He leaned heavily against Novikov, leaned over and vomited.

Novikov made a face, but he put an arm around Innokenty's shoulders as he dry heaved. "It's okay, Kesha. You can puke on my shoes." Novikov glanced up, waving one of the other scientists over.

Innokenty wavered on his feet, clutching at Novikov's sleeve as he sank down to his knees. "Overdid it a little, didn't we?" Novikov murmured as he picked Innokenty up, handing him off to the scientist. He watched until they disappeared back into the boy's room.

"He'll be fine," he said. "Just let him sleep it off."