The Parot

The Parot
By
Raman Jalota


   Iqbal stood at the entrance to the planning commission, clutching his son Rakhal’s hand in his. Is he more nervous than I am? I hope I can gather enough courage to face it. Enough for both of us.
   “How old is the boy now?”
   “He is 12. He turned 12 eight days ago.”
   “That’s very good that you bring him to us within the specified time … It avoids problems with compliance over your and his lifetimes.”
   He shuffled nervously, “Yes sir. That’s what I thought.”
   The official scanned the hands of father and son one after the other and waited for the infocoder to search, evaluate and advice. The screen turned yellow and sharp cryptic messages flashed on the screen.
   “What? He is a natural!”
   “Yes sir.”
   The official stood up and stared at Rakhal’s face and eyes. He took Rakhal’s chin in his hands and turned it around and up, studying his features carefully.
   “Hmmm … I don’t see any naturals here … First one in all my life. You should tell us that first of all ... As soon as you come in.”
   He typed a few commands on the keyboard and gestured towards some chairs at the end of his office, “Sit down. Yours is not a routine exam. I hope you knew that. It will take time. The doctor has been summoned and you will be escorted to the clinic when he arrives.”
   Father and son walked to the chairs and sat down. Rakhal started playing with his orange and green parot as it hovered around his head. The parot squeaked in a shrill voice. The official gave them a dirty look.
   Iqbal patted his head softly, “Turn it off and put it away. We don’t want to get into any trouble Rakhal.”
   He pouted his lips and shut off his toy. He put the parot on his shoulder keeping it balanced there for a few minutes and then he put it back in his pocket. He looked at his dad and saw the fear in his eyes, “What’s wrong Crete?”
   “Son, you are a natural and have to justify your existence and future by passing the age-twelve examination under very strict conditions. It’s much easier for the clones … They are genetically pre-programmed.”
   “Ahhh … Don’t worry Crete. I always do great in exams … You know how well I beat them in school … Right?”
   He nodded his head. But this is life and death, son. How do I keep my fear from affecting him?

…..

   Doctor Saxena took Rakhal by his hand and sat him at the edge of the table. He hooked the electrodes and sensors to all the monitoring areas – Head, eyes, legs, thighs, chest, and heart. He switched the medicoder and marked the starting point. He then turned to Iqbal, “He has those unusual light blue eyes … not as beautiful as the bluish green eyes of the clones, but they look pretty because they are unusual. I haven’t seen one in years. By the way, where’s the female creator? We have to test both units.”
   “But I thought if both he and I passed, she doesn’t have to … Isn’t that correct?”
   “Yes, that’s true. It makes it easier though if both creators are here … Even though we only need one of them to pass.” But we have both if we need to purge them ... Must seek a rule change to require both creators to appear for the exams.
   Iqbal walked to an adjoining room escorted by a thin, tall nurse with deep blue eyes and thin lips … an obvious clone bred for the job. She hooked him to a headset and switched the intellicoder on.
   “I will be back in fifteen minutes.”

…..

   Precisely half an hour after he was hooked up, Doctor Saxena unhooked Rakhal and looked at the results. Everything except the PIQ was in the passing range. Even though some of his measurements were far higher than required, the Progressive IQ range was one of three critical measurements. Rakhal’s PIQ was 160, it needed to be at least 167.
   “Come with me.”
   He led Rakhal to another room at a corner of the same floor.   He told him to lie down on the operating table and strapped all of his legs and arms. As he was strapping his legs, he felt a strange object in Rakhal’s clothes. He took out his toy.
   “What is this Rakhal?”
   “That’s my parot.”
   “A parot? What is a parot?”

…..

   He was interrupted by three men that marched into the chamber. One of them had three red circles displayed on his shoulders, obviously a ranking decision-maker. He stared at the boy lying strapped on the table and looked at the doctor, “Is this the natural, who failed his PIQ?”
   “Yes sir.”
   He bent over the scared boy and examined his eyes and features, nodding to himself, “Yes, he’s a natural alright. What an abomination they are! And this one failed. When do you proceed to extermination?”
   “As soon as the orders are delivered. I brought him here anticipating the next step.”
   “Good, doctor. Let me see his results.”
   Doctor Saxena handed him the remote viewer. He studied it for a few minutes then shook his head.
   “He is alright .. In every area … Except the PIQ ... What a pity! When was the PIQ standard raised to 167?”
   “Three years ago, sir.”
   “What was it before then?”
   He swallowed, “One fifty three, sir.”

…..

    When no one came for him for thirty minutes, Iqbal knew something was wrong. He looked around the room and noticed a call button on the wall. He pressed it.
   “Floor manager.”
   “Yes, I need help. No one came to unhook me. I am in this room …”
   “Let me see. Room 356 … OK, I will send someone over.”
   Within five minutes the nurse was back, “I am sorry … there was an emergency and I couldn’t get back. Here, let me unhook you and look at your …”
   She looked at him then back at the viewer. “You didn’t unhook yourself, did you?”
   “No, why? What was the emergency? What happened?”
   She suddenly realized who he was, her eyes were filled with pity and fear.
   “I have to give you the test again … You failed.”
   “What? How could I?”
   As she was resetting the line, an orderly entered the room, “Nurse, Doctor Saxena wants to see him on the ninth floor. Consulting room 4.”
   She gestured him towards the lifter, “Isn’t that your son … The natural?”
   “Yes why?”
   “Oh … He failed, I heard.”
   Doctor Saxena was waiting as the door opened. He took charge of Iqbal and took him to the consulting room.
   “I am sorry to tell you that your son failed the PIQ test. He failed it by only seven points, but he failed it.”
   Iqbal sat with his head in his hands, “Oh no! What happens now?”
    His mind raced. How do I get him out of here? How do I find where he is? How will we escape? How?
    “Where is he?   I will like to see him.”
    “Listen, I want to try and help him. He scored well in all areas except his PIQ. He was seven points short. Can you explain why he is regressing … I mean … not progressing fast enough?”

…..

   Marissa stared at the viewer waiting impatiently. Where are they? It’s almost dark. They should have been home an hour ago. She looked at the time display on the viewer. She turned her head towards the large window and stared at the space. I guess I move to plan B in three more minutes. Still no sign of the friendly green copter.
   She knew it before the chime sounded. She moved fast to the basement. She lifted the second floor tile from the northwest corner and climbed down. She replaced the tile and moved into the tunnel. Seventeen paces away, she found the grate by feeling with her soft-soled shoes. She lifted it and climbed down further. She stood in the dark, adjusting her sense of direction. She reached with her hands and felt the string. Finally the cave was lit and she could see the cushions and the chairs in the middle surrounded by canned goods and water.
   “I think, I made it quietly enough. I didn’t hear any sounds as I came down.” She walked around the tiny space around the supplies.
“I have to assume the worst. Wait for three weeks before I try anything.   It’s going to be hard.” She sat down on the middle chair and hugged a cushion.
“Damn the choices we have to make. Rakhal ….”
And the sobbing turned to tears, “Iqbal … Damn … Damn … Damn.”

…..

    Doctor Saxena shook his head, “I didn’t think I will ever have to terminate a twelve year old healthy child.”
    “But you have aborted many fetuses.”
   “Of course. But I completely agree with the policy. If the fetus does not meet the 110 PIQ, it is of no use to our universe and can never be of any value. It should be recycled. I agree with that wholeheartedly. But, I have never seen a twelve year old that failed and had to be terminated.”
   “Have you tested many naturals?”
   “No, this one was my third … but my first twelve year old. I normally see the clones and they invariably pass.”
   “I am curious about that. I have heard they don’t always pass their scheduled tests. Is that true Doctor or is that just a myth?”
   “General Chang, I have only seen a handful that didn’t pass their tests. We sent them for reloading and they were back with their units in a couple of days.”
   “Reloading?”
   “Yes, we reload the genetic information along with IQ enhancers. It has always worked.”
   “Ah! I see. So it is true. … Why can’t you do the same for the natural?”
   “We could try but there’s no known pattern of survival for a natural after reloading. And the inherent risk of being a natural is known to the creators well before they are allowed to proceed.”
   “What about the current case? Do you have both the creators here too?”
   “No General. Only one of them showed up. He is in the consultation room upstairs.”
   “Is he to be terminated too.”
   “Of course. Both units have to be terminated.”

…..

    Iqbal looked around the consulting room. The doctor had left him abruptly after receiving a summons from the General. I could use the chair to break down the window, but that may not do any good. What next? I need to find out where Rakhal is, before I start anything. Will someone tell me? Damn, no weapons available here.
   The door creaked open and Doctor Saxena stepped in, “I am sorry, I had to talk to the General in charge. Where were we?”
   “You were telling me about his scores … he did well in everything except his PIQ and that he missed by just seven points.”
   “Yes, I am curious about your son. Any special traits or interests that may explain why he is not progressing as well as others?”
   “He has been doing extensive research into the last days of America and the repetition of the faults of the Roman Empire by a somewhat civilized society.”
   “That’s thousands of years old, isn’t it?”
   “Yes, he developed a keen interest in America’s history after getting interested in archaeology.”
   “That seems to be unrelated.”
   “Actually he was interested in the findings of the great excavations.”
   “Tell me more … may be I can try and help him. The more I know, the more I can do for him.”
   “You must talk to him. He can tell you what he did and why.”

…..

   General Chang was clearly annoyed. He paced around his office as three lower ranking officers stood facing his desk, nervously exchanging glances with each other.
   “She can’t be found?”
   “No General. His counterpart – a woman named Marissa has disappeared. We searched their home thoroughly but found no sign of her.   We … er … Think that her disappearance was pre-planned.”
   “Do they own any copters or pods?”
   “Yes sir. But all are accounted for. It’s just her. She’s missing but nothing else.”
   “Alright. Take the other unit and place him under guard. He’s with Saxena now. I will send termination order for this unit when we get to that stage. Keep the home under view and put out her description over all police channels.”
    “Yes sir.”
   “And tell Saxena to come see me.”
   He sat down at his desk. First I must have Saxena terminate the natural, then send the orders for the male creator. That still leaves the female out there. Damn I don’t like loose ends.
   Doctor Saxena walked in. His face seemed worried and serious.
   “General Chang, you wanted to see me.”
   “Yes, I need to finalize the disposal of the natural and then proceed forward …”
   “Sir … er … I will like to have you reconsider.”
   General Chang stared at the doctor standing before his desk. He ran his hand over his right eye and motioned for him to sit down.
   “Reconsider what … On what basis?”
   “You already know that the natural exceeds all the requirements except one. His PIQ score is what has put him in this situation.   As you yourselves pointed out, he would have passed the PIQ standard three years ago. His lack of progression is far outweighed by his genius in other areas.”
   “What areas?”
   “I will like to bring him in and let him tell you what he has done and how.”
   “You sure about this Saxena?”
   “Yes General.”
   An officer brought Rakhal into the General’s office, shaking with fear. Doctor Saxena patted his head to try and calm him.
   “Sit down Rakhal. I want you to tell the General about your interest in Archaeology and how you designed your toy. Can you show him your toy? … That parot you built?”
   Rakhal took the parot out of his pocket and placed it on the desk.
   The General turned it over in his hands, “What is it?”
   Rakhal: “It’s my toy. It’s a parot. Here let me show you how it flies.”
   The parot flew around the desk and settled hovering over Rakhal’s head.
   Saxena: “Let him listen to the sounds too.”
   Rakhal ran his finger over the sensor and the parot started squeaking in a somewhat rhythmic tone.
   General: “That’s very nice. But lots of kids make flying toys.”
   Saxena: “True but he made the motor too! And he didn’t make a copter or a ship he made a bird.”
   General: “A bird?”
   Saxena: “Rakhal tell him about Archaeology.”
   Rakhal: “I saw some articles about the great excavations of the last century and started looking into the records of the American society.”
   Saxena: “That’s a two thousand year old civilization, General.”
   Rakhal: “I was doing a comparative study of its decline with some of the other great civilizations when I learned about the birds.”
   General: “Birds?”
   Rakhal: “These are extinct animals. They used to fly.”
   General: “Ah yes! I vaguely remember. Large creatures who could fly like copters or ships.”
   Rakhal: “Yes General. They became extinct at the same time when the American civilization collapsed. I … I started studying birds then.”
   Saxena: “Tell him what’s a parot.”
   Rakhal: “There were several hundred species of birds and one of the most colorful was called ‘Parot’. I liked their descriptions and from that designed my toy.”
   Saxena punched in some keys and looked at the viewer – Parot … Searching databases … searching archives … searching ancient data … Entry ‘Parot’ not found. Saxena sat thinking puzzled, “I was sure, I could get to it. Getting to the information on parot turns out to be harder than I thought.
Rakhal got up and took the keypad from him, he punched several keys and waited, the viewer displayed the great excavation information. He flashed through it to the America’s link and then to the birds link; he keyed several more commands and pointed to the viewer - Parot – also known as Parrot; An extinct bird, with colorful feathers, a hooked beak and a characteristic shrill sound.
   The General sat mesmerized as a picture of a green bird with a red crown appeared on the viewer. It was a small bird no bigger than the one Rakhal had. It took flight, sat down and almost duplicated the squeaking sounds of Rakhal’s toy.

The End 2770 words

Copyright © 2004 Raman Jalota. All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

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