Vignette: Superior Genemods
Casey's dilemma was writ plain on his face. We'd scored last-minute tickets to a live dialogue with Juji-9, the number one explorer this side of the wormhole! E was due to merge eir forks and light-out in less than an hour. If we wanted to meet em we had to go now. Therein lay the problem. We had courseware due that neither of us had completed. Our juvenile credit didn't extend to forking, if it did we could have completed the work and met with Juji.
I could practically see the heat rising from Casey's bald head as his implants furiously simulated actions and consequence, deliverable timetables and quality prediction metrics. He was trying to figure out how much a late submission would cost him. I, on the other hand, was not worried. Unlike my nearbaseline friend I could do both at once. My parents had chosen a superior clade for my genome, granting me a decent multitasking ability. Focusing inward I felt the choir of my mind. Four distinct tones, one for each of my neocortical lobes, sang in harmony. The sense was artificially synesthesiac but that didn't make it any easier to explain to Casey. His brain still bore the architecture of mother nature; unoptimised and divided bilaterally.
I dropped into a deeper state of meditation. Were I an adult I could have adjusted my cognitive function without pausing to blink. But at this age I needed a guiding technique. Listening to the choir I separated out a note, beginning the strangest part of the process. As the sound settled into one tripart harmony and one single tune, I experienced a surreal echoing in my thoughts. This was expected when one quarter of my brain desynchronized with the rest, the bandwidth along the corpus callosum dropping according to my wishes.
The echo faded into a dim whisper at the back of mind. I could feel a part of myself thinking about the courseware and initiating a net connection. It was like having a quiet second voice in my head, as though I were hearing the self-dialogue of some unconscious problem solving. Returning the bulk of my attention to Casey I felt slightly dulled, understandably given the multitasking. The whispered thoughts felt even more sluggish but I was confident it would be enough to get the work done.
With a smile I pushed my catatonic friend towards the transit hub. He would likely choose to face the wrath of his parents over giving up meeting Juji-9. As we were whisked to the far side of the hab I thought to make a list of questions to ask the renowned explorer. A task for another lobe...
Image from Steve Bowers |