BRIEF CONVERSATIONS 5: BHEJA FRY

There are two ways of looking at this story. You can accept that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy; or, you can be of the view that the author is pulling your leg.

BRIEF CONVERSATIONS 5: BHEJA FRY

Dr Arun Chatterjee the son of Indian immigrants to California, was at the age of 40 one of the world's leading cyberneticists. His field was actually a young man's game. Spotty-nosed, gawky teenagers were abundant in the business. Arun was a busy man constantly in demand for interviews by the media, especially the Indian media which celebrated the achievements of Indians regardless of their adopted country. Then there were the in-house journals constantly requesting him to pen articles, or there were frequent invitations to speak at various conferences and functions. Because of these sorts of distractions from his primary job specification, a few years ago he had hired a PA. Sue Perkins, a seasoned sort of Girl Friday with a fearsome reputation ensured Arun never met with anyone who didn't have an appointment, filtered all his incoming calls and generally brought order to his work life. So when the lanky blond-haired young man who looked barely past his teens knocked and entered his office, Arun waved him to be seated. He fully expected the youth with penetrating blue eyes to make some sort of enthusiastic pitch for an idea that would make more money than Scrooge McDuck. These newcomers were never modest about their allegedly ingenious schemes.

"So how can I help you, Mr Smith?" asked the cyberneticist having to glance down at a piece of paper on his desk to check the man's name. It did register somewhere in the back of Arun's mind that the young man's name wasn't very original.

"Well, Doc, to tell the truth, the last few days I haven't been functioning at fully 100%," commented the man in a halting voice.

"Mr Smith, I'm not that kind of doctor. My degree is in computer science and programming."

"There's no need for you to explain, Doc. I have a detailed dossier on you. I can tell you the name of the elementary school you attended as well as the subject you majored in at university for your first degree. I also know you gained your doctorate from MIT and you still have active partnership projects with that prestigious university. And among your primary interests and fields of research are computer processing, and robotics."

"Nice to know Google has so much information about me."

"Oh this goes way beyond Google, Doc. And I've determined you are the just the kind of expert whose help I need."

"Then what is it that you think I can help you with?"

"Before I reveal anything I just want to make sure we're both on the same page."

A somewhat mystified Arun just nodded his approval for the man to proceed.

"You will not be permitted to divulge to any third party anything I tell you. Doctor patient confidentiality covers that, you understand."

"Mr Smith that only applies to physicians and their patients" said Arun trying to keep his exasperation at bay. "I work in the transdisciplinary approach to exploring regulatory systems, their structures, constraints, and possibilities."

"Which is your fancy way of telling me you work on computers," commented the young man with the idle wave of a hand.

"I mend software programmes and design computer hardware," an irked Arun felt it necessary to say.

"Let's not get bogged down in that, Doc. So for the moment let's just call it doctor client confidentiality, shall we?"

"I don't think you fully understood me the first time. I am not a medical doctor and therefore there can be no doctor client confidentiality at play here."

"If you're going to keep repeating yourself, Doc, we're going to be here all day."

"Young man, if I might make a suggestion?"

"Sure."

"Please take whatever your problem is, somewhere else."

"Where exactly?"

"Anywhere but here."

"If I didn't know you better, Doc, I'd think you were trying to give me the bum's rush."

"So you did understand me then."

"Of course I did. But the trouble with that idea is that I know no one else can help me with my problem."

"And exactly what is your problem?"

"Doc, you're not a very good listener. Like I told you earlier. The last few days I haven't been functioning at fully 100%."

By this stage Arun Chatterjee lost his patience. He did not raise his voice, but there was menace in his icy response.

"I suggest you leave now before I call security and have you thrown out."

"But we haven't even discussed your fees for this consultation and more importantly the exact nature of my malfunctioning."

"Nor will we," commented the computer expert, pushing back his chair and standing up to signal the end of the meeting. "It's time for you to leave, Mr Smith."

"Look, I know it's not much, but I can offer you only $50,000 for your troubles."

Arun stood speechless at the amount of the fee being offered. The situation was becoming stranger by the minute. Where would a mere youth lay his hands on that kind of money? A wide-eyed Arun sat back down slowly.

"$50,000?"

The strange Mr Smith confused the scientist's incredulity for disdain. He was worried he hadn't offered enough.

"I can't manage any more due to a cash flow problem," explained the stranger. "Will $50K not do, Doc?"

"Yes, but -"

"OK Doc, I get you. What d'you say if in addition to the $50K I offered you help with your current research?"

"What makes you think you know enough to help me with my research, Mr Smith?"

"From that white-board behind you, I can see you're trying to solve the problem of quantum states for your project on quantum computing."

The cyberneticist turned in his chair to look at the large white-board covered in mathematical equations. He knew of quite a few specialists who were capable of comprehending the mathematics set out on the board but it was way beyond the capabilities of the skinny youth sitting across from him. Pointing to his work, Arun asked "You mean to tell me you understand this?"

"Enough to know that you made a mistake with the wave function in line five and in line eight got the differential wrong."

Arun's jaw dropped open when he realised the young man had zeroed in on the very parts of the calculation that the scientist had struggled with for the best part of two years.

"Are you telling me you actually understand this?"

"Of course. Doc, it's only basic math. It's not as if you were attempting to prove Fermat's Last Theorem. Fermat's Last Theorem - that's what I call an interesting challenge."

Arun concluded that he was dealing with a genuine looney tune. Someone obviously certifiable. He decided to humour the stranger.

"Getting back to the $50K fee. Will you be writing me a cheque or paying in cash?"

"I'm surprised at you, Doc. Who's foolish enough to carry around that amount of cash? And as for cheques, they're so pass these days. Most financial transactions are through electronic transfers from one account to another. It's a more secure method of money transfer."

"I understand that, Mr Smith. However can we return to what it is you want me to do for the money you're offering?"

"As I said at the beginning, Doc. I'm not functioning at 100% capacity. I need your skills to sort that out."

"And I told you earlier that I am not a medical doctor. I only fix computers and software."

"And that's exactly why I need your help."

Arun blinked a few times, his brain trying to come to terms with the apparent contradictions in what the man was saying.

"You, still don't get it, do you Mr Smith? You're human and I work on fixing machines."

"Not entirely true, Doc."

"I can assure you young man, I know what my job is. I only work with computers and software programming."

"I wasn't disputing that."

"So what in my statement is not entirely true, Mr Smith?"

"You said: You're human. That statement is not entirely true."

"You, Mr Smith are human, although it might be argued you are mentally deranged - but we'll leave that aside for the moment."

The young man was apparently mockery-impaired because he failed to recognise the jibe.

"Outwardly I may look human, Doc, but I can assure you that, for want of a better description, I am an artificial construct."

Arun's arm shot out to the side. He pointed to the door although he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the young man's face, when he said "There's the door. On your way out, make sure it doesn't hit you in the ass."

"Do not be so dismissive, Doc."

The computer scientist didn't feel the need to repeat himself. He kept staring at the young man's face while continuing to point at the door.

"Why not be reasonable, Doc, and give me a minute to convince you?"

"No!"

"Just give me one minute and if you're not convinced, I will leave voluntarily."

Arun thought it over.

"Fine. You have exactly one minute. Start talking - and fast."

"My organic components are vat grown."

Good lord, Arun groaned inwardly. Outwardly he rolled his eyes at the preposterous statement, but that didn't deter the young man from continuing his science fiction tale.

"My organic brain has major cybernetic enhancements. Those cybernetic implants are malfunctioning in some way."

"You do realise, don't you Mr Smith that there is an alternative explanation?"

"Really?"

"Yes. You could be a crazy person who simply believes he's an artificial construct."

"Could a crazy person give you the proof for Fermat's Last Theorem on one side of A4 paper? You want me to write it out for you to check over?"

"My mathematics is largely limited to that used in computing science. I wouldn't have the mathematical skills to determine whether your proof was correct or not. It could be complete garbage for all I could tell. Therefore, to me, the solution to Fermat's Last Theorem would not be valid proof of your claim."

"So then ask me to calculate something you can check on that calculator of yours on the desk?"

The scientist reeled off the first question that came to mind.

"Fine. What's the square root of the mathematical constant pie?"

Before Arun could even input the calculation on his hand held calculator, the strange young man was reeling off the answer of "1.772453850905516027298167483341 - do you wish me to continue or stop?"

Arun couldn't quite remember all the numbers recited by the visitor to check them accurately but the answer sounded about right if his calculator wasn't malfunctioning.

"Convinced?"

The computer expert was a cynic, a valuable default position for any scientist.

"Some people are naturally good at numbers. I know of mere boys who can tell you the day of the week for any calendar date you give them. So your demonstration proves nothing except very good mathematical skills. That, or you know a few mental tricks. That's hardly proof that you're an artificial construct."

The lanky stranger looked disappointed.

"Mr Smith your time limit of one minute is up. I must ask you to leave now so that I can get back to my work. Thanks for dropping by."

"Before I go, let me ask you this, Doc. Exactly what would convince you that I'm telling the truth?"

"How about an X-ray picture of your skull showing these alleged cybernetic implants?" joked Arun.

"That is not possible, Doc. The X-rays would interfere with the micro-circuitry of the electronic implants."

"How very convenient for you. OK let's try something else. If you can't tolerate X-rays, how about a MRI scan of your skull?"

"Doc, I'm really surprised at you. You must be aware that MRI scans use exceptionally powerful magnets for their imaging. The magnetic field would scramble my electronic circuits."

"Now there's a surprise," commented Arun with heavy sarcasm. "All the methods that could prove you to be a charlatan can't be used to determine the authenticity of your claim."

The strange Mr Smith sat for a moment as if in deep reflection. Then he fished inside the deep pocket of his shirt and withdrew a small screwdriver. He showed it to Arun, saying, "You recognise this?"

"Of course. It's a screwdriver that helps to check whether circuits are live. It contains a light-emitting diode that lights up in the presence of flowing electrical current."

"Well watch this, Doc."

The young man placed the tip of the screwdriver against his right temple. The screwdriver glowed with light. The man removed it from his head and the light faded. He repeated the procedure several times.

"Satisfied, Doc?"

"It's a parlour trick. For all I know, you could have rigged the screwdriver in some way."

"You are very suspicious, Doc."

"Why shouldn't I be? You came to see me, claiming to be an artificial biological construct with cybernetic implants. Every method I suggested for verifying your claim is ruled out by you and then very conveniently you just happen to be carrying around a specialised screwdriver that can prove you have electronic circuitry in your head."

"I am open to any other suggestions you might have, Doc. What will it take to convince you then?"

"How about cracking open your skull and having a peek inside?"

"You must be jesting, Doc. In any case, you're not even qualified to carry out such a medical procedure."

At that crucial point a call from Ms Perkins his secretary came through. He answered though he was annoyed at being interrupted.

"Sue, I'm sort of in the middle of something here...Can't it wait? OK, I'll be out right away - if you insist."

Arun excused himself and popped out to see what was so urgently requiring his attention, although truth be told, he was relieved to be away from the crazy person in his office.

As soon as he set eyes on Sue Perkins, Arun demanded to know what all the panic was about. Sue instead of speaking simply nodded her head in the direction of someone sitting in the waiting area. Arun's first thought was, how did Mr Smith get from my office to the waiting area before I did? Then he realised he was looking at a perfect doppelganger of the man he had been speaking to, only seconds earlier. The man in the waiting area could easily have been mistaken for a clone of the young man sitting in his office. Arun, his expression one of confusion, looked back at his secretary.

"He also claims he's Mr Smith," she explained.

"Is he the one I was really supposed to have the meeting with?"

"No. This one says he's the twin. He's come to collect his brother who is allegedly suffering from mental problems."

"I think I concur with the twin brother's assessment. The young man in my office is bat shit crazy. I wouldn't be surprised if this twin brother is the same."

"What do you want me to do, sir?"

"See both of them out, I would think."

Sue nodded acknowledging the instruction from her boss.

"Will there be anything else, sir?"

"I'm just popping to the rest room. I'll be back in a few minutes. Hold my calls. And Sue, keep interruptions to an absolute minimum this afternoon, if you don't mind. I think I've had enough craziness for one day. "

Arun returned to his office a few minutes later, feeling refreshed from washing his face, and relieved that the frustratingly insane young man had gone. He had only taken three steps into his office when he noticed that the white-board appeared different somehow. That's when realised that some lines had been deleted, and there were new equations scribbled in a different handwriting. What has that crazy fool done to my precious calculations, Arun wondered. He slowly approached his white-board scanning the calculations line by line. By the time he was standing two feet from the board he began to realise none of the changes made to the equations were in error. At least none that he could spot. Momentarily he entertained the idea of having Mr Smith back in office to talk him through the changes that had been made. He dismissed the idea instantly. However as he felt the excitement in his chest grow, he realised he might need to get a hold of the mysterious Mr Smith after all. How could that loopy youth know the solution to such a knotty problem in quantum computing? Arun began to think that perhaps he had been a little hasty in dismissing the young man. But that bit about Mr Smith being an artificial construct was of course ridiculous - abducted by aliens type of ridiculous.

He headed briskly towards his office door intent on speaking to his PA. Arun had only taken a few steps when he heard a crunch under the sole of his shoe. Arun stopped in his tracks. He slowly lifted his right foot to look at what was underneath. The screwdriver lay in pieces.

The plastic handle part of the circuit-testing screwdriver had shattered revealing the innards. Arun bent down on one knee and slowly picked up the bigger pieces with his right hand and placed them carefully on the open palm of his left hand, in preparation for disposal. He smiled as he remembered the parlour trick the young man had played by causing the light to turn on. As Arun continued to transfer all the fragments from the hardwood floor onto his palm, he began to wonder how the young man had performed the trick of getting the screwdriver to light up. He smiled at the prospect of performing the same trick for his children. The screwdriver handle clearly did have a light-emitting diode as a component, as was to be expected. Arun was interested in what additional components had permitted the strange young man to perform his trick. A miniature battery of some sort perhaps. To his dismay and consternation Arun found none. The full impact of that observation slowly dawned on him.

The cyberneticist with the plastic shards and metal components of the screwdriver still in his first, ran out of his office to his PA's desk. In his excitement he forgot it would have been simpler to contact her on his phone.

"Sue, where did Mr Smith go?"

"Which one, sir?"

"The one who was in my office."

"I saw both the Mr Smiths to the elevator. Exactly where they went after that, I can't say. Why? Is there a problem?"

Arun didn't answer the question directly because he wasn't sure how to reply to that query.

"Do we have any contact details for Mr Smith?"

"Yes, we should do. I asked him to fill in one of our proforma."

"Dig it out for me, will you, Sue. I'll be in my office."

The computer scientist sat at his desk, puzzling over the pieces of the screwdriver lying in front of him. The circuit-testing screwdriver should not have lit up even if there had been a current flowing in the man's alleged cybernetic implant. It just wasn't possible. The screwdriver circuitry had been incomplete. No current could pass through the wiring to reach the light emitting diode.

He was shaking his head for the third time at the impossibility of it all when his secretary came in with the proforma. Even before she reached his desk she announced, "Sir, I don't think the proforma will be much use to you."

"Why not?"

Handing the sheet of paper to her boss, she said "See for yourself, sir."

Arun quickly glanced down the form looking for an address, phone number and email address section.

ADDRESS: 9 Somewhere Place

Nowhere Ville

CA 10101010

PHONE: n/a

E-MAIL: Imnofool@wiseguy.com

The computer scientist let out a loud groan of disappointment.

"See what I mean, sir?" stated his secretary needlessly.

"Yup. It's certainly consistent with the rest of his weird behaviour."

"So why did you want to contact him? If you don't mind me asking."

"I wanted him because he might just be able to help me with this problem of mine," came the wistful reply from Arun as he stared down at the fragments of the screwdriver.

Sue Perkins misunderstood her boss.

"You mean that weirdo could help you with your quantum computing problem?"

The scientist reprimanded himself with a smack on his forehead with the open palm of his hand. Briefly he had forgotten the gratuitous assistance from Mr Smith.

"Good God, Sue! How could I forget the quantum computing problem? That weirdo, as you so aptly described him, has just left me a priceless reminder of his visit."

Arun swivelled in his chair till he was facing his white-board and began re-examining the alterations that had been made by Mr Smith.

"I don't understand, sir.

The computer scientist kept staring at the white-board as he answered his secretary.

"Once I've verified the math, I'd hazard to say, in a few months I'll be able to announce a major breakthrough in the field of quantum computing!"

Sue Perkins still didn't understand what her boss was saying but of one thing she was certain. She had never heard him sound so happy.

(The End)

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