Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [18]
“And how would you describe the nature of these messages?”
Data considered the question, then replied flatly, “I would have to say he was quite angry. My impression is that Commander Maddox was experiencing extreme frustration. I believe he had exhausted what he considered to be the viable avenues in his research into recreating Dr. Soong’s positronic brain, and would not accept my reasons for blocking his access to my predecessors’ remains. He believed that I was putting my personal feelings before the good of the Federation. In retrospect, I find this quite interesting since these events took place before, technically speaking, I had feelings. Now that I do have them—and understand something about frustration—I have concluded that it might have been better to let the commander study my father’s earlier work.”
“So, what stopped you from contacting him?”
“The commander refused to accept my messages. The last communication I received from him said, ‘Your right to choose your own fate was duly recognized, Data. And, believe it or not, despite everything, I wouldn’t change that. But history can still pass judgment on your choices.’ “
Haftel sat in silence for a minute or two, absorbing this new information. Finally, he looked up, and, with a small smile, said, “You know, Data, when you were quoting Maddox, not only did you mimic him slightly, you also used a contraction. I’ve never heard you do that before.”
“Really?” Data asked. His eyes flicked back and forth, as he reviewed the past several seconds’ worth of conversation. “Thank you, Admiral, for pointing that out. It would seem that my neural net is experiencing a new period of growth. It would explain … some other incidents that have occurred recently.”
Reg Barclay, who had been fussing with a viewscreen console, cleared his throat and hesitantly announced, “Uh, Commander Maddox had been preparing a presentation that might help clarify things a bit.”
“Good idea, Reg,” Haftel said and directed their attention to the center of the table. The lights dimmed and a blurry image rippled into view, then resolved into the Daystrom Institute logo. The image disappeared, and was replaced by a holo of a blurry illustration. Riker recognized it as the da Vinci drawing usually referred to as Vitruvian Man: a nude human male with his arms and legs shown in two different positions, perhaps the most recognized anatomical drawing known to humanity. As the image sharpened, Riker saw that the skin was peeled away from half of the figure’s body, but the structure beneath was not flesh and bone, but steel and circuitry. The figure’s features, Riker realized, were Data’s.
“Oh,” Reg muttered, glancing at Data. “I had forgotten about that. I think he was going to change it.”
“On the contrary,” Data said. “I believe I am flattered. Please continue.”
Reg smiled, relieved. “All right,” he said. “Here we go. Bruce, Commander Maddox, that is, had come to the point where he was beginning to suspect Soong’s work—Data and Lore, that is—might owe as much to some fluke of circumstance as to scientific rigor. I can’t say there was much agreement on this point. Might have had to do with Bruce wanting to preserve his dignity as much as anything.” Reg smoothed his hair back and looked around, aware that he wasn’t getting to the facts. “In any case, Commander Maddox had hit a wall trying to duplicate a stable positronic brain. That’s when he began to believe he might be looking in the wrong place, especially when he started to learn that other extraordinary developments in artificial intelligence were already taking place for no apparent reason—occurrences of what he referred to as ‘spontaneous sentience.’ That was Commander Maddox’s term for those instances when an AI developed cognitive self-awareness inexplicably and, so far at least,