Machine Man (serial)

“There it is,” said Jason, pointing to his monitor. He looked tired, because we had been mapping my brain for six hours. “Activity in the ventromedial prefrontal cortex.”

I lowered the Contours. It felt good to be in them again, after all that time naked. It felt really good. “This is guilt?”

“Yes. Looks very localized.”

“It does. Did you find that study?”

Jason clicked his computer mouse. “According to Krajbich et al, patients with VMPFC damage are quantifiably less sensitive to guilt. Regular people have a guilt quotient of around two hundred. The VMPFC-impaired group scored 27.”

“And were otherwise fine?”

“Correct. No significant differences noted in any other emotion.” Jason peered at the screen. “Oh. Wait. Envy’s up.”

“Envy?”

“Actually… that’s within the margin of error. Probably meaningless.”

“Okay. So if my VMPFC was suppressed, I would expect to feel less guilty, but otherwise the same.”

“A lot less guilty.”

“Right,” I said. “A lot less guilty.”

Jason glanced at me. “I’m not sure how you’d suppress it, though. I mean… without actually… cutting it out.”

An awkward silence descended. I remembered I had crushed my right leg in front of Jason. He had tried to stop me. We had never really talked about that. “I suppose that would be kind of drastic.”

“Kind of irreversible.”

“Although I wouldn’t regret it.” This was a joke. Jason stared at me. “Because of the lack of a ventromedial prefrontal cortex.”

“Oh. I see what you mean.” He did not laugh.

I tried again. “This is what people aspire to, isn’t it? A life lived without regret? That’s a saying.”

“Um,” Jason said. “I think the message there is you should behave in a manner that would not cause regret in a reasonable person. Not that you should surgically excise the capacity for regret from your brain.”

I pondered this.

“Dr. Neumann, there are some really great things we can do with computer modeling. Or if you want to leap ahead to mice—”

“What about a helmet,” I said. “With fixed needles, each capable of delivering a measured dose of tetrodotoxin to various areas of the brain. Press a button, bam, take out the VMPFC.” I gestured to the screen. “Or whatever area needs suppressing for a few hours.”

“Uh…”

“And not just tetrodotoxin. Adenosine, for alertness. Any chemical you need, primed for delivery in the right spot at the right time. That’s interesting.”

“I think—”

“Imagine walking around in that helmet.” I groped around the desk for a pen. “I should write this down.”

“I think I should call Cassandra Cautery,” said Jason.

“A helmet,” I said. “That’s a great idea.”

77.