CHAPTER 3 – Beinn Breagh
“Good morning, Robin,” Professor Patrick Heslin’s voice echoed in his empty laboratory.
“Good morning, father,” a computerized voice responded.
Heslin used his connections and his check book to hire the best engineers and developers to build him the Robin 1 Super Computer. a computer not only capable of helping him with his research, but one that spoke to him. It wasn’t just a set of canned responses like most computers; this one had a brain. Officially, it was called artificial intelligence but the truth was, the Robin 1 Computer was so advanced it appeared to be able to ‘think’ far outside its primary programming.
Using videotapes from his daughter’s twelfth birthday party, the last real birthday his daughter Robin ever had, the engineers and developers not only gave the AI brain Robin’s sweet and innocent voice but her angelic face as well, allowing the computer to simulate various facial expressions as she talked. Robin’s forever twelve year-old face filled the computer monitor as Heslin sipped his morning coffee.
“I checked the weather forecast, father. It is going to be very hot today. Shall I turn on the air conditioner?”
Robin controlled nearly every aspect of Heslin's lab, from the satellite internet uplink to the electrical and security systems, including the locks on the doors. Cameras placed throughout the entire building allowed Robin to monitor everything. Speakers and microphones allowed Heslin to talk to Robin from any room.
“Robin, you know I prefer fresh air from open windows,” Heslin responded. “What are the probability results of formula 25-41?”
“Did you forget, father?” Robin asked.
“Did I forget what?” Heslin inquired with a hint of a smile breaking across his lips.
“Did you forget what today is?” Robin replied.
Heslin smiled with a wide grin as he looked into Robin's face on the computer.
“Of course not,” he said lovingly. “How could I ever forget such an important day? Happy Birthday, Robin!”
Robin’s face smiled. Heslin’s mind drifted back to his daughter’s twelfth birthday--it was a beautiful, sunny day and their back yard was filled with balloons, games, pony rides and too many screaming children.
Heslin was known to be habitually late for just about everything. Important meetings, dinner engagements, Heslin was even late for his own wedding. His friends jokingly told him he would be late for his own funeral. But, when it came to Robin, Heslin was never late. He never missed a recital, a school play or a single birthday. For her, Heslin was always on time, always there for her.
Heslin, a man years ahead of his peers in the field of genetic research, now resembled a pitiful man talking to a computerized version of his daughter. To an outsider, it would look as though the award-winning scientist had finally lost his marbles, but to those who knew him well, it was exactly what Heslin needed to keep his sanity. He needed his Robin. Without her, Heslin simply could not go on.
It was only three short years ago that Heslin was working in his lab at the research center when he received an urgent phone call. At first Heslin understood the words, but as the news grabbed hold, the words became fuzzy, unclear. Heslin's hand released the grip on the phone, and it bounced on the desk with a loud bang. Heslin leaned back in his chair, staring straight ahead. His friend and colleague, Professor Lindsay Paulson, ran to Heslin to see what was the matter as the voice on the telephone handset repeated, “Hello? Hello? Professor Heslin, are you still there?”
“Patrick, are you ok?” Lindsay asked. Heslin did not reply.
“Hello?” The voice on the phone insisted, “Sir, are you still there?”
“Hello?” Lindsay questioned as she put the phone to her ear, “What’s going on?”
“Is Professor Heslin all right?”
“Not exactly,” she retorted. “What did you say to him? Who is this?”
“This is Sgt. O’Brian. Are you a family member of…”
“This is Lindsay Paulson,” she announced, “I work with Patrick. He is a friend of mine. What happened? What did you say to him?”
Tears raced down her face as the sergeant explained that a drunk driver slammed into Mrs. Heslin’s car, killing her and sweet little Robin.
“Oh my god,… No!” she sobbed. Lindsay looked at Heslin, “Patrick, I am so sorry.”
Heslin did not answer. He just sat there, staring ahead, a blank look on his face.
As the news of the tragedy spread, Heslin’s lab quickly filled with colleagues and lab assistants to help comfort the grieving man. Eventually the lab cleared, leaving Heslin alone with his sorrow. Lindsay stayed behind to further comfort him and made the obligatory offer:
“If there’s anything I can do, Patrick, you just let me know.”
Heslin lifted his eyes to Lindsay and uttered two simple words.
“There is.”
He scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to Lindsay. Her eyes opened wide in disbelief.
“No, Patrick, do not ask me to do such a thing. You’re not thinking straight right now…”
“Do it!” Heslin’s sharp words cut her off. “I don’t care what it takes. I don’t care what it costs, just do it.”
This time it was Lindsay who stared blankly ahead.
Now, three years later, Heslin paced impatiently in front of his microscope, deep in concentrated thought. A thick, grey stubble on his face showed a tell-tale sign that he hadn't shaved in days. His wild, Einstein-like hairdo meant he hadn't showered either. Heslin often worked to the point of exhaustion, slept for three or four hours, and then started another marathon session that lasted for days at a time. Heslin glanced at his stop watch as he hovered over his microscope. Impatiently, he switched between staring into the eye piece and looking at the watch. The seconds slowly ticked by.
Heslin was an old-school scientist and preferred microscopes and test tubes instead of a completely computerized laboratory. Although everything under the microscope was hooked into the Robin 1 mainframe, Heslin still preferred to see it with his own eyes. Beneath the all-seeing eye of his microscope, a culture dish held reddish-gray cells that moved in a jerky motion when Heslin’s genetically modified, translucent green liquid touched the cells. Not really a touch, more like a gentle caress. The reddish-gray cells were human cells, long since dead, but now sparked of new life when Heslin’s translucent green cells caressed them. Life that never broke the two minute window. Heslin dared another look at his watch as Robin’s voice broke the deafening silence.
“Formula 25-41 approaching the two minute mark in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6…”
Robin stopped. Heslin’s heart sank as he closed his eyes knowingly and exhaled deeply. He didn’t have to look into the microscope to know the cells had stopped moving. He knew exactly what failure looked like. He had seen it too many times before, more times than he cared to count. He opened his tired eyes as Robin started to announce the results.
“Test complete. Sequence has failed. Formula 25-41 not capable of supporting…”
“I know.” Heslin blurted angrily, cutting her off. “I bloody well know. God dammit! Five more seconds! Is that too much to ask?”
Heslin's question echoed in the empty lab. The last of Heslin’s assistants had quit weeks ago when Heslin could no longer afford to pay them. Working Heslin’s marathon hours was practically suicide, but without the lure of money, his assistants quickly abandoned the maniacal professor.
Living off cold coffee and a few bites of the occasional sandwich, Heslin continued his research, oblivious to the world around him and the hunger pains that often growled in his empty belly. His appetite was for something bigger, something monumental and more important than mere food. He was so close to succeeding that he could practically smell victory. Despite his countless defeats, he never flinched in his pursuit. He was determined to prove his theories right… and his colleagues wrong.