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"I've come across more and more people who've actually tried reading science fiction and can't make it make sense."
- Samuel R. Delany
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Nutrient Gelatin Tank |
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Essential hardware for creating a new, improved humanity - isotope men! |
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Jim Horty, convicted and sentenced to death, faced not execution - but a bizarre scientific experiment. The very substance of his entire body was to be dissolved and then only the best of him reconstituted, the recessive decent man would be brought to the fore.
KEN CRAIG was already at the
huge quartzite tank. Now that the
crucial experiment was already under
way, he became once more the scientist... The great tank was forty feet long,
ten feet wide, and five deep. It was filled almost to the top with a clear,
lusterless jelly. Huge electrodes sank
deep into the thin, quivering stuff at
either end, and were connected by cables
with an instrument board on the wall.
Ken pressed a button. A section of
the glass top slid smoothly underneath,
leaving the tank exposed just wide
enough to admit a human body. Above
it, suspended from a miniature crane,
was a cradle of extremely thin, longitudinally stretched wires. At a gesture
from Ken, the guards lifted the immobile body of the condemned man,
deposited it carefully into the cradle.
Then he knifed a switch. There was
a whir, and the cradle, with its strange
burden, dipped slowly from unwinding
chains into the transparent substance
within the tank. Down, down, ever
down, while the men in the room stared
with fixed, unwilling fascination.
The jelly closed with a
quiver over the descending form.
Within its clear depths the cradled body
showed like a prehistoric monster
caught in a huge globule of ancient amber...
(Nutrient Gelatin Tank from 'The Isotope Men' by Nat Schachner)
Stubbs moved quickly to the instrument panel. For an instant his long,
bony fingers clung with fierce grip to
the bakelite handle of the master switch.
His eyes burned through the transparency of the tank, fixed with a fanatical
light on the quiescent body within.
The future of the world rested on
the tug of his hand. If the experiment proved a success, his name would
go rocketing down the centuries.
Darwin, Newton, Einstein, Galileo
would be pale, glimmering phantoms
compared to him.
A TREMENDOUS current surged
through the electrodes. The jelly, at
their base, stirred uneasily, blurred
slightly with tiny bubbles.
Jim Horty was no longer a solid,
compact body. He had lost shape and
substance. He was stretching out along
the plane of vibration in a tenuous,
ghostlike flow; he was blurred and
misty and unrecognizable; he was a
parallelepiped of former length and
thickness, but already he was three feet
wide and expanding visibly.
There was no evidence of the man
they had called James Horty any more.
He had been swallowed up, ingested
seemingly into the horrible plasma that
filled the quartzite interior, that was
quivering now and bubbling in a veritable witches' broth. Faintly, halfway
down the tank, was an amorphous cloud.
"It is really quite simple," the scientist explained patiently. "The human
body, protoplasm, bone structure and
all, is composed chiefly of six elements.
Carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen,
sulphur, and calcium, with a scattering
of others. Every one of these has been
dissociated into its isotopes. They exist, as far as we know, in indisseverable
mixture. But suppose that isn't so.
Suppose that some internal mechanism
exists in the human body, in each cell,
which under certain rare conditions,
clicks, and dissociates the isotopes. We
already know much about the genes of
inheritance within the cell nucleus. We
know that there are present, side by
side, genes of opposing inherited characters. The stronger, or dominant gene
will mask the recessive characters, as
if they did not exist. Yet, in the next
generation, perhaps, the recessive gene,
by proper association, may in turn mask
the dominant characteristic."
"Why then, I thought," Stubbs went on, "might not the isotopes of the ele-
ments in the human body act the same
way? Those present in the largest
quantity would be dominant, the others
recessive. Less than one per cent are
the isotopes; the other ninety-nine per
cent what we had heretofore considered the entire element. Suppose, as
in the case of recessive genes, something happens, and the minority isotopes
suddenly mask the dominant norm.
What would you have?"
The doctor's eyes bulged. "Why, 1
— I'd say you'd have a different personality. The other part of what we've
called dual personalities."
"Exactly," Stubbs declared triumphantly.
"How put it into practice?" Stubbs
finished for him. "Easiest thing in the
world. The technique for separating
isotopes is pretty well established by
now. I've improved on it immensely.
I've done more than merely shift isotopes within the body. I'm able to
separate them entirely, make two separate human bodies, two separate entities,
where one existed before, each composed of a unit set of isotopes. I've
done what nature has merely fumbled
at doing. I've taken the two personalities and clothed them in visible form
for the first time in the history of the
universe !"
"In that tank," pursued the scientist, "is a nutrient gelatin, properly treated
to carry an electric current. The injection I gave Horty contained, beside
a powerful narcotic, a saline solution
to promote conductivity within his body.
I am passing a current of extremely
high amperage and low voltage through
the gelatin. The body dissociates into
ions, and, following the laws of electrolytic separation, these ions migrate
through the gelatin very slowly from
the positive to the negative electrode.
"In other words, the heavy, dominant
personality will reach the negative electrode first ; the lighter, recessive personality will lag behind." |
Technovelgy from The Isotope Men,
by Nat Schachner.
Published by Astounding Science Fiction in 1936
Additional resources -
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Was the great scientist able to reintegrate Jim Horty, convicted murderer? Was Horty now the best version of himself?
The man's eyelids fluttered suddenly
under the beating light ; his limbs
twitched ; the warm color of life infused
his limbs.
Jim Horty yawned, opened his eyes,
looked bewilderedly about him... Ken sprang forward, turned them off.
"You're all right now, Horty," he
soothed. "Take it easy. Here are your
clothes."
"You know," he said slowly, and Ken
noted with thumping heart that, though
it was the voice of Horty, yet the diction, the modulations, had changed, become softer, more precise, "I had a
dream, and it was a terrible one. I
must have fallen asleep."
He looked again at his prison clothes,
at Dr. Bascom. Then he smiled wryly.
Somehow his brutish features were suffused with new light. "I'm to be executed, am I not? Well, I'm ready for
it. The sentence was fair and just. I
was a murderer. Funny though," and
again that puzzled look crept into his
eyes, "I must have been crazy, doing
the things I did. Robbery! Murder!
Why, I— I wouldn't hurt a fly!
I won't tell you how it ends, but consider this: what would it be like to confront your worst self?
('The Isotope Men' by Nat Schachner)
Compare to the cosmic express from the 1930 short story of that name by Jack Williamson, the emergency treatment tank from Agent of Vega (1949) by James Schmitz and the way station materializer from Way Station (1963) by Clifford Simak.
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