“Debriefed? This is insane!” Walt said, and he laughed. But his laughter had a sharp, hollow, decidedly nervous quality which, to Lem, indicated that the sheriffs skepticism was slipping away even though he wanted to hold on to it.
“I’m telling you that it’s possible, that such a dog was in fact conceived by in vitro fertilization of a genetically altered ovum by genetically altered sperm, and carried to term by a surrogate mother. And after a year of confinement at the Banodyne labs, sometime in the early morning hours of Monday, May 17, that dog escaped by a series of incredibly clever actions that cannily circumvented the facility’s security system.”
“And the dog’s now loose?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s what’s been killing-”
“No,” Lem said. “The dog is harmless, affectionate, a wonderful animal. I was in Weatherby’s lab while he was working with the retriever. In a limited way, I communicated with it. Honest to God, Walt, when you see that animal in action, see what Weatherby created, it gives you enormous hope for this sorry species of ours.”
Walt stared at him, uncomprehending.
Lem searched for the words to convey what he felt. As he found the language to describe what the dog had meant to him, his chest grew tight with emotion. “Well… I mean, if we can do these amazing things, if we can bring such a wonder into the world, then there’s something of profound value in us no matter what the pessimists and doomsayers believe. If we can do this, we have the power and, potentially, the wisdom of God. We’re not only makers of weapons, but makers of life. If we could lift members of another species up to our level, create a companion race to share the world… our beliefs and philosophies would be changed forever. By the very act of altering the retriever, we’ve altered ourselves. By pulling the dog to a new level of awareness, we are inevitably raising our own awareness as well.”
“Jesus, Lem, you sound like a preacher.”
“Do I? That’s because I’ve had more time to think about this than you have. In time, you’ll understand what I’m talking about. You’ll begin to feel it, too, this incredible sense that humankind is on its way to godhood-and that we deserve to get there.”
Walt Gaines stared at the steamed glass, as if reading something of great interest in the patterns of condensation. Then: “Maybe what you say is right. Maybe we’re on the brink of a new world. But for now we’ve got to live in and deal with the old one. So if it wasn’t the dog that killed my deputy- what was it?”
“Something else escaped from Banodyne the same night that the dog got out,” Lem said. His euphoria was suddenly tempered by the need to admit that there had been a darker side to the Francis Project. “They called it The Outsider.”
5
Nora held up the magazine ad that compared an automobile to a tiger and that showed the car in an iron cage. To Einstein, she said, “All right, let’s see what else you can clarify for us. What about this one? What is it that interested you in this photograph-the car?”
Einstein barked once: No.
“Was it the tiger?” Travis asked. One bark.
“The cage?” Nora asked.
Einstein wagged his tail: Yes.
“Did you choose this picture because they kept you in a cage?” Nora asked.
Yes.
Travis crawled across the floor until he found the photo of a forlorn man in a prison cell. Returning with it, showing it to the retriever, he said, “And did you choose this one because the cell is like a cage?”
Yes.
“And because the prisoner in the picture reminded you of bow you felt when you were in a cage?”
Yes.
“The violin,” Nora said. “Did someone at the laboratory play the violin for you?”
Yes.
“Why would they do that, I wonder?” Travis said.
That was one the dog could not answer with a simple yes or no.
“Did you like the violin?” Nora asked. Yes.
“You like music in general?”
Yes.
“Do you like jazz?”
The dog neither barked nor wagged his tail.
Travis said, “He doesn’t know what jazz is. I guess they never let him hear any of that.”
“Do you like rock and roll?” Nora asked.
One bark and, simultaneously, a wagging of the tail.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nora asked.
“Probably means ‘yes and no,’ “Travis said. “He likes some rock and roll. but not all of it.”
Einstein wagged his tail to confirm Travis’s interpretation.
“Classical?” Nora asked.
Yes.
Travis said, “So we’ve got a dog that’s a snob, huh?”
Yes, yes, yes.
Nora laughed in delight, and so did Travis, and Einstein nuzzled and licked them happily.
Travis looked around for another picture, snatched up the one of the man on the exercise treadmill. “They wouldn’t want to let you out of the lab, I guess. Yet they’d want to keep you fit. Is this how they exercised you? On a treadmill?”
Yes.
The sense of discovery was exhilarating. Travis would have been no more thrilled, no more excited, no more awestricken if he had been communicating with an extraterrestrial intelligence.
6
I’m falling down a rabbit hole, Walt Gaines thought uneasily as he listened to Lem Johnson.
This new high-tech world of space flight, computers in the home, satellite-relayed telephone calls, factory robots, and now biological engineering seemed utterly unrelated to the world in which he was born and grew up. For God’s sake, he had been a child during World War II, when there had not even been jet aircraft. He hailed from a simpler world of boatlike Chryslers with tail fins, phones with dials instead of push buttons, clocks with hands instead of digital display boards. Television did not exist when he was born, and the possibility of nuclear Armageddon within his own lifetime was something no one then could have predicted. He felt as though he had stepped through an invisible barrier from his world into another reality that was on a faster track. This new kingdom of high technology could be delightful or frightening- and occasionally both at the same time.
Like now.
The idea of an intelligent dog appealed to the child in him and made him want to smile.
But something else-The Outsider-had escaped from those labs, and it scared the bejesus out of him.
“The dog had no name,” Lem Johnson said. “That’s not so unusual. Most scientists who work with lab animals never name them. If you’ve named an animal, you’ll inevitably begin to attribute a personality to it, and then your relationship to it will change, and you’ll no longer be as objective in your observations as you have to be. So the dog had only a number until it was clear this was the success Weatherby had been working so hard to achieve. Even then, when it was evident that the dog would not have to be destroyed as a failure, no name was given to it. Everyone simply called it ‘the dog,’ which was enough to differentiate it from all of Weatherby’s other pups because they’d been referred to by numbers. Anyway, at the same time, Dr. Yarbeck was working on other, very different research under the Francis Project umbrella, and she, too, finally met with some success.”
Yarbeck’s objective was to create an animal with dramatically increased intelligence-but one also designed to accompany men into war as police dogs accompanied cops in dangerous urban neighborhoods. Yarbeck sought to engineer a beast that was smart but also deadly, a terror on the battlefield- ferocious, stealthy, cunning, and intelligent enough to be effective in both jungle and urban warfare.
Not quite as intelligent as human beings, of course, not as smart as the dog that Weatherby was developing. It would be sheer madness to create a killing machine as intelligent as the people who would have to use and control it. Everyone had read Frankenstein or had seen one of the old Karloff movies, and no one underestimated the dangers inherent in Yarbeck’s research.