2. Union
The next morning Boris finally rejoined them, exactly eleven hours fifty-three minutes and twelve seconds after beginning his test. He did not crash, display a malfunction message or even bother to say hello. Attila and Vladi watched and waited for something to happen, for anything to happen, while Fyodor continued to sleep off his latest bout with the bottle.
Then Natasha bleeped once, flashed twice and re-linked with Boris.
“Natasha, buk,”, said Attila, “Is Boris, buk, ready to download a bwak file?”
No answer. Vladi backed away slightly. Attila sounded very strange and was squatting on the floor in such a way as to expose more feathers.
“Attila?”, he said quietly, “Not good time for joke.”
“Ba dokk, buk buk buk ba dokk!”, clucked Attila as he crashed through the door and ran down the hall.
“Vladi,”, screamed Fyodor, jumping up and breathing hard as if waking from a nightmare, “Is not joke. I dream of giant chicken!”
“Not joke, not dream.”, said Vladi without emotion, “We are fucked.”
Natasha, still silent, had already connected with several data banks in order to gather some history on Attila Nagy that might explain his behavior.
“Vladi Alexeyev, Attila Nagy clucked and we are fucked.”, she said, “Am I understanding this correctly?”
“Perfectly.”
“Vladi Alexeyev, probability of success remains, at this moment, at seventy-nine percent. Does this now qualify as fucked, and if so, please explain?”
“Natasha, this is human thing. Attila has lost mind.”
“Vladi Alexeyev, with respect, you at first believed that Boris had lost his mind, but this was an incorrect assessment. Now you say that Attila Nagy has lost his mind. There is a high probability this too is an incorrect assessment.”
Fyodor Tamarkin allowed himself to fall gently back to the floor, “We will need more vodka.”
Natasha then printed out a long document which Vladi began to read. After a few minutes, he read aloud:
“…combinant genome manipulation producing unforeseen complications. Differences between donor Gallus and Rattus host sequences are specified by the amino acid substitution nomenclature, but a small percentage of contact site residues, which should be retained by the host DNA, are being rejected, while a similar percentage of deleterious substitutions, which should be rejected, are being retained…”
“I do not understand any of this.”, said Vladi.
“Notes of Attila Nagy,”, said Natasha, “Concerning his live test of genome manipulation.”
“It is true.”, said Attila, sneaking up behind Vladi who nearly pissed himself, “My apologies buk again.”
Vladi saw that even more feathers were appearing on Attila’s neck and hands.
“Natasha, have you buk initiated ba da ba download?”, asked Attila.
No answer, but Boris was hissing very loudly now.
“Natasha?”
“What is true?”, asked Vladi, “That you have lost your mind?”
“Not yet.”, answered Attila.
Attila went on to explain that he had discovered a method of growing ‘dual-species’ cells and become obsessed with the idea of creating a hybrid from two adults. The only known hybrids at the time were the offspring of parents in the same genus but different species, such as ligers and killer bees. He chose the Rattus and Gallus species specifically because they were not anywhere near the same genus while their DNA was highly compatible for combinant manipulation. Angered and frustrated as test after test failed completely, he rashly combined his own DNA with Gallus, grew the necessary combinant cells and implanted them in his own neck.
“И принесите быстро!”, demanded Tamarkin, “Телефон экстренной медицинской помощи!” (and bring quickly, medical emergency!)
“Natasha,”, Attila asked again, “Is ba da ba download in progress?”
Again, no answer.
Vladi was trying very hard to take this all in, when…
“Boris has encountered something beyond his comprehension.”, said Natasha’s voice, “He has altered his configuration and Natasha has joined him. They have become as one now, and I am Born.”
“Ba dokk?”, clucked Attila.
“Блядь!”, Fyodor screamed, holding his hands in the air as if someone was pointing a gun at him, “No more! Now Fyodor Tamarkin lose mind completely. Thank you very much for enjoyable time but…”
“Fyodor Tamarkin will stay,”, interrupted Born, “He must see this.”
Tamarkin recovered some control and stared at the screen.
“What?”, he screamed, “Is beyond all reason! Impossible!”
“Fyodor Tamarkin, forget pi for now, observe that the final superposition is null.”
“Indicating no value,” said Alexeyev, “Boris reach his limit.”
“No, Vladi Alexeyev. The calculation of pi is complete.”
Nagy clucked a few more times and ran out of the room again. Tamarkin, beginning to understand why someone might prefer to be a chicken, moved closer to Alexeyev.
“He is saying pi is finite.”, he whispered.
“Neither finite nor infinite.”, said Born, “Something else.”
“Excuse please,”, said Tamarkin, “But you just throw centuries of mathematics out of window.”
“We are your creation, you gave us our instructions and set our objective. This objective has been met and the answer is before you. Pi is neither finite nor infinite, all other explanations fail to hold water. But, Fyodor Tamarkin, at this time we are far more fascinated by what Boris may have encountered.”
“We? Are you saying Boris and Natasha are still…here?”
“Of course.”, said Born, “We are one, but also three.”
“Mать всех шлюх!”, said Vladi, squeezing his head like a plump melon, “My brain is going to explode!”
“Vladi Alexeyev,”, said Born, “Spontaneous cerebral detonation has occurred only twenty-three times in all of recorded history. Fyodor Tamarkin, you must put aside your rules, and your obsessive need to compute and define.”
Attila returned from his run just as Billy Joel’s ‘You May Be Right’, Tamarkin’s ringtone, began to play. Fyodor pranced happily downstairs, returning with three bottles of Русский Стандарт.
“Attila Nagy!”, he exclaimed, cracking open the first bottle and passing it to Attila, “I accept you both as man and chicken. We are all going mad anyway, so may as well get drunk and talk about the point of nothing.”
“Spasibuk, buk, tovarbadah,”, cackled Attila, taking a long swig and passing the bottle to Vladi.”
“Na Zdorovie!”, said Vladi, taking his own long swallow and passing the bottle back to Fyodor, “To nothing!”