“Right,” Sarda confirmed.
“And the reconstituted version comes together . . . where?” Kieran looked inquiringly in the direction of the door, even though he knew that to be incorrect—June had told him Sarda was “sent” somewhere upstairs.
Sarda shook his head. “In the R-Lab, upstairs. This is the T-Lab. `Transmit’ and `Receive.’ ”
“What order of time are we talking about?” Kieran asked. “Between the process commencing down here and you walking out at the other end up there.”
“Right now, about three hours. In the future that should come down a lot.” Sarda’s mouth twitched beneath the shaggy yellow mustache. “I can’t say it will ever be as instantaneous as they like to show it in the movies . . . but we’ll see where it goes.”
Kieran decided to play dumb a little longer. “So how does it work? . . . For three hours do you have the original you coming apart, being unraveled layer by layer like a ball of string or something, as the other one upstairs is being constructed? . . . But that would be a hell of a risk to take, wouldn’t it? Suppose the system seized up halfway through? What kind of protection do you have against something like that?”
Sarda frowned, as if unsure whether he wanted to go into it. Kieran got the feeling it was a subject he had learned to give a wide berth to if possible. Finally Sarda said, somewhat reluctantly, “It’s not quite the way you assume, Mr. Thane. The original has to be reduced to a suspended state for the process to work—totally inert. But the decomposition phase can be deferred—which was the choice that was exercised in this instance.” He made a quick dismissive motion with a hand. “Of course, once you’ve raised the confidence level sufficiently, you can make the two phases virtually simultaneous. But in the present case, the option to reactivate is still available. So that risk was covered.”
Kieran went through the motions of absorbing this information for the first time, then nodded at a vista of light slowly dawning. “Oh, I see! . . . You’re saying that the original is still intact. So where . . . ?” He turned his head toward the white door, letting his eyes widen in an expression of sudden revelation.
“Yes,” Sarda confirmed. “It’s being kept in there until all the tests are satisfied . . . just in case.”
“So when will they . . . deactivate it?” June asked.
“Midnight tomorrow—unless anything negative shows up in the meantime. But that’s looking less likely.” Sarda obviously had no qualms—at least, this one didn’t. Crazy or whatever, or not, Kieran wondered if the one behind the door had felt equally dispassionate all the way through to the final moments.
Sarda followed their gazes, and then seemed to feel uncomfortable about the whole thing, suddenly. “Let’s go back upstairs,” he said. “I’ll show you the reconstitution chamber in the R-Lab—where the other half happens.”
But Kieran wasn’t prepared to let the matter go so easily. “But doesn’t that change everything that we’ve gotten so used to hearing?” he persisted as they went back up the stairs. “You’re saying there are two of you. If I were due to go through that today, I don’t see how I could feel any sense of . . . continuity with a replica that was going to walk out of a chamber upstairs—or maybe out at Jupiter one day, from what we’re told. It might look, talk, and think like me, and satisfy everyone else . . . but I wouldn’t find that very convincing. As far as I’m concerned, everything that’s me becomes history.”
“Would you feel better if we sent your own atoms through as well as the information, and rebuilt you from them?” Sarda asked. “But that would be pointless. All atoms of a kind are identical. I feel just fine. Never better. I’ve no doubt that I’m the same person I was. You can check all the test results for yourself.”
“I’m sure you do. But you’re through it. What would that other character that we just left downstairs say if we asked him?”