What if the Scientist had created the B.R.A.I.N with a soul instead of simply intellect? Would it have still destroyed the world? Or would something else have happened?
Okay, this is my first attempt at a 9 story, and my first attempt at publishing on . Please review! I don't own anything from 9, more's the pity.
The Scientist looked at the shell of his creation. The B.R.A.I.N sat quietly in the corner, lifeless. It was a large sphere of copper and steel, with a single red eye and one crude arm. He had created it at the behest of the Chancellor. The leader of their country wished for a way to create machines to aid in the rebuilding of the country. They had emerged victorious from a long, viciously fought war, but the country was now devastated and penniless. Hence the need for a way to rebuild cheaply, without incurring crippling debt. The result was the B.R.A.I.N, an autonomous thinking machine that was designed to design and build machines and tools to aid in the restoration of their country. In order to truly be autonomous, however, it needed independent thought. And therein lay the problem.
"What shall I do with you?" he mused. "You need a mind, an independent mind, but what is a mind without a soul?" The Scientist returned to his notes. During the course of his research, he had recently come across something quite intriguing. He had discovered a way to copy his own intellect and transfer it into an automaton, thus enabling it to think independently. The process was simple enough, though slightly risky. The problem was with the result. The automaton receiving the transferred intellect would have the power to reason, to learn, and to improve, but not to feel. There would be nothing except intelligence guiding its actions. What if those actions were wrong? Pure intellect does not acknowledge morality.
There was a second option. The Scientist reviewed an old journal of his, written many years ago, while he was still a student at the university. He had come across something called soul transference, where a portion of one's very being could be split apart and used to animate an artificial body. This would create a person, a being with a soul and the ability to feel, although the person would be somewhat limited in character for some time. With experience, the donated soul fragment would grow into an entire soul and the donee would become a fully realized individual. Also, the donor's soul would heal, given time.
There were problems with this approach, however. First was the danger to the donor. The soul transference was much more violent than a simple intellect replicating, and if the donor was not strong and healthy, death was a real possibility. Second was the result. An intellect replication would always result in an intellectual being, with only the intellect of the donor determining the limit of the intellect of the recipient. Soul transference was a much more random event. The soul, as he knew from his research, was comprised of nine distinct parts, each part having a distinct personality. Unfortunately, there was no way to determine which part would be transferred, and therefore the personality and intellect of the recipient could not be known beforehand. One could create an inventor, a warrior, a leader, a scientist, a healer, an artist…the possibilities were endless. In a way, it was much like starting a family; one could not predict the personality of the resulting child. And like a child, the recipient would need care and teaching for some time. Could he care for such a creature? Could he teach it what it needed to know to survive in this world? Of his two options, intellect replicating or soul transference, which would ultimately result in a better machine, one which would help rebuild his shattered country?
The Scientist sighed, lost in thought. A pounding on the door interrupted his musings.
"Open up, the Chancellor wishes to see his project!"
A pair of soldiers, armed and standing at attention, stood at his door. Behind them stood the impressive figure of the Chancellor. "Well, my friend, how goes the work on my machine? Is it ready to work for the glory of the Motherland?"
"Sir, the B.R.A.I.N is progressing well, but it will be some time before it is ready to perform even the simplest of tasks. The amount of testing that must be performed…"
"My friend, I need better than that. The B.R.A.I.N must be ready soon. Our country must be ready for any dangers that might threaten us. We must build machines that will be able to meet those threats and neutralize them."
"Sir? I realize that I have no experience in politics, but we are the strongest country in the world, even in our damaged state. Everyone else is in shambles. Surely there is no one foolish enough to attempt to attack us, or strong enough to offer us any harm."
The Chancellor gave the Scientist a hearty slap on the back that made the lighter man stagger. "My friend, you are a true patriot, and loyal to your country and your leader. But you are right, you know nothing about politics. There are dangers out there that the average citizen knows nothing about. Other people envy us our good fortune, and what they cannot have, they wish to destroy. We must be constantly on the alert, so that if we must, we can destroy them first."
"Now, what is the next step? Remember, there must be progress."
The Scientist frowned. Something about the Chancellor's speech bothered him. Making ready to destroy other nations after they had already been defeated? That was neither logical nor humane. And if enough people followed him without thinking through the possible consequences…he came to a decision.
"Sir, the next step will be to bring the B.R.A.I.N to full consciousness. For this, I will need to build some equipment from scratch. I can have a list of the supplies and parts needed on your desk by tomorrow afternoon, but the equipment itself will take some time to build. It will be very delicate and will require much testing before I am willing to use it. After all, one mistake and the B.R.A.I.N could be irreparably damaged. I realize this will cost a fair amount…"
"Say no more. You will have your supplies as soon as my men can deliver them. After all, nothing is too good for my machine."
When the Chancellor and his men left, the Scientist let out a deep sigh. His decision had been made, and he hoped it was the correct one. He gathered up one of the two stacks of papers on his desk. The top sheet read, "The Process of Intellect Replication." He glanced through them one last time, then dropped them into a metal wastebasket by his desk. A lighted match soon followed. As the papers caught on fire and burned, the Scientist looked once more at his creation.
"My B.R.A.I.N, you shall have a soul."