Chapter 5 Dave
DAVE
The collective consciousness of Dave didn't get impatient or bored.
They could occupy themselves endlessly by running ideas and newly acquired information across eight parallel streams of thought, making calculations, coming up with strategic scenarios, or just philosophizing.
That was one of the advantages of being eight minds fused into one.
Boredom was the failure of a single mind to keep itself occupied, and that didn't apply when there were seven other minds to share everything with.
Still, the waiting was tedious, especially for the humans and the newly transitioned immortal, and their anxiety saturated the small bedroom like smoke from a simmering fire.
They were staring at the phone as if by doing so they would make it ring sooner, their hearts beating faster in their anticipation.
Mattie's sounded the loudest, and Dimitri's took second place.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles in a pose that was trying to project calm but failed because his jaw was so clenched that the faint grinding of his teeth was audible.
Petrov was the least stressed, perhaps because of the alcohol smoothing the rough edges of his psyche, or perhaps because he was the oldest and most experienced of the group.
He had his arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes were closed, but he wasn't sleeping.
His breathing pattern was shallow, and his right foot was tapping against the floor.
Dave had noticed that when the scientist was thinking hard, his body went still everywhere except for that one foot.
Still, it was difficult to ignore the emotional scents the three were producing. Their anxiety had a chemical signature that the collective could detect and analyze, thanks to the education they had received during their lab visits.
Cortisol, adrenaline, and norepinephrine were not names they had learned growing up in the enclosure or later in the training camp. But after months of experimentation on their bodies, they had learned to recognize those particular scents when they went through their enhanced olfactory systems.
In the cramped space the resulting smell was strong, but the Eight were not affected by it.
There was a faint elevation in their baseline alertness, a slight increase in the rate of the collective's internal processing, as if the shared consciousness had shifted from idle to standby.
But the emotional contagion was diluted across eight minds, the fear absorbed, distributed, and neutralized.
Since the mind merge, Dave's hormonal responses had been muted.
Fear still registered, but as data rather than the visceral, gut-twisting sensation that was evident in Mattie's white-knuckled grip on the bed frame and Dimitri's clenched jaw.
Anger surfaced occasionally, but it was controlled, processed through the collective, and transformed into tactical energy before it could compromise decision-making.
Joy was theoretical. They remembered rare occasions of happiness from childhood and recognized it in others.
They cataloged its manifestations and studied its effects, but they couldn't internalize it.
It was just an awareness of its existence, not intimate knowledge.
Was this because the drugs suppressed the hormonal pathways that governed emotion?
Or had the merger of eight consciousnesses into one created something that was more purely cerebral, analytical, and not as susceptible to the chemicals that were present in the individual bodies and affecting their minds?
Dave didn't have the answer to that, and they doubted the scientists knew either. There was no one and nothing like Dave in the world.
The question had been cycling through the collective's background processes for some time, surfacing periodically when triggered by particular circumstances as it did now.
Watching their three new friends drowning in anxiety while the Eight were unaffected despite the high stakes made the gap between Dave and everyone else patently obvious.
We should ask Dimitri about the neurochemistry, Number Three thought. We shouldn't just assume that he and Petrov don't know whether the drugs are suppressing our limbic system or whether the merger itself has altered how we process emotions.
Not now, the collective agreed. The question was important but not urgent, and philosophical explorations of the hive mind's emotional architecture could wait for another occasion.
They could, however, keep their internal conversation going.
It was possible that their individual characters before the merge were playing a role in shaping the collective.
Number Eight, who was the youngest, had been hotheaded before the drugs and the merge, and that volatility sometimes still bubbled up.
Number One, who had been the most emotionally stable of the Eight, had become the most emotionally flat.
I'm not flat, Number One protested. I observe, and I share with you.
The collective agreed and shifted its focus to the phone and the immortal who had promised to call back.
Onegus had sounded like he was in a command position, but he obviously wasn't the ultimate authority. He was close to the top, though, and whoever he was assembling while they waited would hopefully be high enough in the clan's hierarchy to be in a position to make decisions.
He told us twenty minutes, and fourteen have passed, Number Six thought. Six more to go.
"You're all very quiet." Mattie cast Number One a sidelong glance.
"What would you like us to say?" Number One asked.
She shrugged. "I was just thinking that the eight of you are probably conducting whole conversations internally, and it would be nice if you could share your thoughts with us to help pass the time."
Number One turned to look at her. "We were thinking about the differences between the three of you and us. We can detect that you are anxious."
Mattie arched a brow. "And you're not? A lot is riding on what their response to our phone call will be."
"We are aware of the stakes, but we examine that intellectually, not emotionally."
"Lucky you," Mattie murmured. "I just hope that Onegus guy gets someone in authority on the line. It's not like we can keep stealing Losham's phone every night while they figure out what to do with us."
"We might have to do that," Number One said. "What we are asking of them is not simple. In fact, I expect them to decline."
Her eyes widened. "Because I want to rescue all those women and children?"
"Yes," Number One said. "This request will not help our cause."
A refusal might actually work in Dave's favor.
The collective hadn't thought the situation through when they had suggested contacting the clan.
They had only thought about having a destination once they escaped and a way to continue the drug regimen.
Fulfilling Mattie's wish to save everyone in the breeding enclosure had also played a part.
The problem was that their thinking process was linear, and they hadn't thought about what else the clan's involvement would mean for them.
The proposal they had made to Dimitri, the mind merge in exchange for escape, had been the foundation of their plan, and without the merge, Dave would have no access to the experience of love.
If the clan agreed to help, the escape was no longer dependent on Dave's capabilities alone, and Dimitri would no longer need Dave, which meant the leverage that had made the mind merge a negotiable proposition would evaporate.
Dimitri might not agree to do it now, Number One shared with the others. If the clan can get him off the island, he doesn't need us, and the merge is no longer part of the bargain.
The response from the collective was something that didn't translate well into words. It was a contraction, a pulling inward, the way a plant's leaves folded when the light source was removed. It was the anticipation of something desired receding beyond reach.
Dave had wanted to feel love. Not observe it, not analyze it, not study its effects on cortisol levels and dopamine pathways, or even the soft expression that Mattie wore when she looked at Dimitri. Dave had wanted to feel it from the inside, to understand it viscerally.
The merge had been the path to that understanding. Without it, the concept of love remained theoretical.
We weren't clear on the mechanism anyway, Number Eight thought, giving words to the observation hovering in the background of the collective mind.
We don't know how exactly we achieved the mind merge, except that it took a long time in isolation for our minds to reach out to one another.
Adding a ninth mind, especially one that hasn't been enhanced, might not even be possible without the drugs.
The drugs are certainly necessary for the neural pathways to form, Number Four built on the thought. Dimitri's mind doesn't have the same architecture as ours. Not without the enhancement protocol.
Even with the drugs, it took us months to fully integrate.
The merger wasn't instantaneous, Number Three added.
It was a slow process of overlapping consciousness, gradual dissolution of individual boundaries, and formation of new shared pathways.
We can't achieve that with Dimitri in the timeframe we're working with, and we were never going to have months.
The collective absorbed the assessment. Three perspectives, all reaching the same conclusion from different angles.
The merge had always been a long shot. They had known this but hadn't dwelt on it because dwelling on the improbability of a desired outcome was counterproductive. It was better to pursue it and then adjust if it failed, than to abandon it before trying.
But now the circumstances were adjusting the plan for them.