Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [10]
“There have been attempts,” Picard replied. “Data’s components, though complex, are quite well understood now. Everything could be replicated—except for the positronic brain. Every attempt …”
From behind them, Picard heard Data say, “… has been unsuccessful. And, to date, there has been no clearly identifiable reason why.” He walked down the ramp again, this time carrying a small travel case. “Or, to put it another way, there has been no clearly identifiable reason why my positronic brain—or that of my brother Lore’s, or Juliana’s for that matter—functions. Several theories have been advanced, none of them easily provable, though I am intrigued by Bronwin and Satar’s recent note in Advances in Artificial Intelligence where they postulated that there was some unique, as yet unidentified substance in the components Dr. Soong incorporated into his positronic brains. However, my own investigations into that theory have been inconclusive.”
“Perhaps,” McAdams said, “Dr. Soong was successful because he believed so strongly that his work should succeed. Belief is a potent force. Just look what it did for Tinkerbell.”
Data cocked his head to the side, a gesture that Picard associated with him accessing some deeply buried file. “That is an interesting theory,” Data commented. “But it would be extremely difficult to prove. It would also suggest that my daughter’s positronic brain went into cascade failure because I did not believe strongly enough in her.”
“I’m sorry,” McAdams said. “Your daughter?”
“Yes,” Data replied. “Lal. I constructed her several years ago. She lived only fifteen days, but I was …” He hesitated, then resumed, “I cannot say I had strong feelings for her because I did not have feelings at that time. However …” He paused again, seeming to search for the words. Finally, Data said, “I do not know how to express what I am feeling.”
“I understand,” McAdams said. “And please forgive me for speaking so cavalierly about something I could never understand.”
“You have no reason to apologize, Lieutenant. I have studied the literature on the development of positronic brains in great detail and many less credible ideas have been advanced. For example, in volume 72, issue 2 of Positronic Review, M’Yea posited—”
“Data,” Picard said gently.
“Yes, Captain?”
“Surely this can wait until you’ve attended to your mother’s remains? And I believe Lieutenant McAdams is scheduled to return to her duties.”
“Perhaps you are right, Captain. My apologies, Lieutenant. I did not know you were still on duty. Thank you for coming down here to meet my shuttle.” Data extended his hand and McAdams took it. They shook hands formally, the way you do, Picard thought, at the conclusion of a funeral.
“Maybe we can continue our conversation at another time, Commander.”
“I would enjoy that, Lieutenant.”
After McAdams left, Data turned back toward the coffin and reactivated the antigravs. The crate rose a few inches off the ground, and without speaking, Picard, Riker, La Forge and Troi took up places at the four corners of the coffin. Each put a hand on their corner and carefully guided it toward the turbolift, Data following. They passed no one en route, Riker having already cleared the corridors between the shuttlebay and their destination.
They rode in silence. When the lift halted, they guided the coffin carefully down the corridor, then up to the doors to Data’s lab. After he had keyed in his pass-code, Data turned to his friends. He thanked each of them formally in turn, then said, “I deeply appreciate your concern; however, I believe I require some time alone now.”
“Of course, Data,” Troi said, quite properly speaking for them all. “We understand. Please call if you need anything.”
Data nodded, thanked them all again, then carefully pushed the coffin through the doors. After the doors had closed, the four pallbearers simultaneously inhaled, then slowly let out their breaths. “Is it only me,” Riker asked, “or is anyone else hungry?”
Data stood silently for