The mechanical mind

The Mechanical Mind

Lisa Everhart could be described as your ordinary person. She was young, twenty-four, went to college, and wanted to be an engineer. She had glossy black hair, bright green eyes, and a slender figure. Although there were plenty of things normal about her, she had always had an uncanny understanding of things of a mechanical nature. When she was seven, she somehow wired her father’s car to move faster than any race car recorded on the professional circuit. When she was eleven, she accidentally programmed her computer to translate for foreign politicians who were on another continent. When she was seventeen, she accidentally triggered her friend's iPhone to take a picture simply based on her friend holding her phone in front of her face. Although no one could explain her knack, Lisa took the gift and ran with it. So, as stated before, it was an ordinary day in the somewhat ordinary life of a somewhat ordinary girl. Lisa sat down at the table and looked at today’s blueprint. It seemed like Professor Michael Strand had tasked students with building a basic fan. The blueprint showed everything they needed, and they were graded on their ability.

Lisa looked down at the blueprint and blinked. For a moment, it seemed like she was seeing double. She saw the blueprint: wiring, fan blades, motors, screws, an electrical source, and a housing unit—standard fan stuff. But then she saw lines on top of the paper, as if someone had drawn an edited design. It had equipment to make the motor run faster, a cooling system, a ventilation system to prevent smoke or chemical inhalation, and even a fancy oil diffuser. It was her first time using blueprints in class, as they had spent two weeks on basic mechanics and safety, but blueprints don’t act like this.

Lisa asked one classmate to verify the instructions, and they accused her of trying to cheat somehow. Unsure what else to do, Lisa gathered her things, went to the back of the room where the parts were stored, and got parts for both blueprints.

When she sat down, she looked at the blueprint once again. Now, as if they had been inked there in the first place, the more complex, high-tech directions were there, without any sign of the simple fan instructions Lisa saw initially. When Lisa got to work, it was as if her mind were hooked up to a GPS. Instinctually, Lisa knew exactly what she needed for which part and how the parts fit together. She didn't even need the blueprint. In no time at all, this machine—Lisa wasn’t sure if she could call it a fan anymore—was built. This high-tech, complex thing didn't even take 20 minutes to complete. But was it functional?

When Professor Strand came by Lisa’s desk, he saw the most high-tech fan he had ever seen. This was saying something, as the world now had fans that could be controlled by smart devices. “Lisa,” exclaimed the professor, “all you had to do was make a simple fan. I’m not exactly sure what this thing is, but can it cool me off on a hot day?”

Lisa, the quiet type, simply pressed the button on top of her fan. A cool breeze—as if she were sitting in an air-conditioned room with open windows on a breezy day—emitted from the machine. It was so cold Lisa could’ve sworn she saw ice crystals form on the water bottles of her classmates. She turned off the fan, and her professor simply gawked at her. Unable to say anything, he put an A++ sticker on her project and continued through the class.

After class, Professor Strand called a slightly frightened Lisa to his desk. “Lisa, I want to sign you up for the Mechanical Mensa. It’s a group of engineers that can do great things. I want to see if you are up to snuff and what else you can do with that brilliant mind of yours.”

“But Professor, I didn’t do anything very special, did I?”

The professor looked confused at Lisa’s humility. “My dear, that is the most fantastic fan I have ever seen! You must have some sort of talent. The meeting is tomorrow at five; I will see you then.”

Lisa walked out of the class and drove herself home. She was thinking, was the professor just leading her on? Sure, she made a fancy fan, but it couldn’t be that good, could it?

When she got home, she went right to her garage workshop. She pulled a random blueprint meant for a toy car. She looked down at the blueprint, and suddenly, it happened again! What looked like basic instructions for a motorized toy car became high-tech, even calling for a small AI chip. It was as if the blueprint itself was correcting what was written down in the first place. Not wanting to question the corrections, she laid out her tools and started the project.

The end result was a shiny red car, about the size of a Hot Wheels, but beyond the exterior, this car had jets, servo motors, robotic arms, AI features, a microphone to prompt the AI, etc. Lisa—thinking due to a lack of knowledge on her behalf that these were the plans for a basic toy car—gave it to her nephew, Jonathan.

Jonathan, only seven, was immediately enthusiastic. He put the car on the table next to one of his other toy cars, pushed it, and said one simple word… “Go!”

With a rush of air, as if a jet fighter had passed through the room, the red sports car moved at speeds beyond those of even actual cars. The mechanical arms popped out, and it was as if a flying robot were moving through the air. Before anyone could do anything, there was a crash—the car went through the concrete wall—and then a scream.

Rushing out to see what had happened, Lisa found her sister, Rebecca, Jonathan’s mother, toppled over as if someone had pushed her.

“Something just hit me,” said Rebecca. “It looked like a little car, but it hit like a bullet train!”

Lisa could only stare down at her sister. She even noticed a large bruise, larger than any toy car, on her sister’s forehead. What had she done?

That night, Lisa could not rest. Her thoughts were on the fan, and then the car—what was happening? Against her own reservations, Lisa snuck downstairs and went back to her workshop. She closed her eyes, grabbed a random book of blueprints, chose a random blueprint, took a picture of it with her phone, and then looked at it. The blueprint was for a miniature clock. But both her phone and the paper blueprint turned what was supposed to be a simple clock into a talking, smart time device.

Lisa, thoroughly freaked out at this point, got to work. She found the gears, the screws, and everything she needed to make this small machine. After implanting an AI chip with a code she had written, she pressed the button on the clock. And then… everything went off. Everything—the alarm clock, the microwave timer, the radio clock—if it had a clock or timer on it, it went off.

Lisa, startled, pressed the button on the smart time machine to silence it, her heart racing. Her family must have been deep sleepers, because she heard no one moving around. Lisa stashed the time device on a high shelf—a shelf so high she had to stand on top of two chairs to reach it. This made her even more nervous for the day ahead: the mechanical challenge…

The next day was the trial for the Mechanical Mensa. Lisa came in and followed the instructions on the whiteboard. She went to the back, picked out a random blueprint from a stack, and started getting busy. The blueprint was for a small helicopter drone.

And then, again, those instructions—those secondary, questionable, beginning-to-get-scary instructions—overlaid on top of the original blueprint. Lisa was shocked. These directions were more sinister than the fan, and even the car. They called for metal pellets or ball bearings, a barrel, an in-system GPS and AI, bulletproof paneling, and much more. It was as if the instructions directed her to make a war machine. And not only a war machine—the instructions directed that fifty units be made.

Lisa went up to the proctor who was overseeing the trials and asked if she could get a different blueprint.

The proctor glanced down at his wall clock, seeing that thirty full minutes had already passed in the testing block, before stating the rules firmly and fairly, completely unaware of what Lisa was actually being instructed to build.

“The rules state, ma'am,” said the proctor in a nasally tone, checking his watch again to emphasize the time, “once a blueprint is selected, the contestant must use it and follow it exactly. Thirty minutes have passed—we are far too deep into the testing process for you to back out or swap designs now. Please sit down and complete your blueprint.”

Lisa, confused and reluctant, bowed her head and moved toward the back in order to get the parts. Questionably—or maybe because they lived in a military base town—the exact materials Lisa needed to follow her extremely questionable and dangerous blueprint, along with the device to control the machines, were in the parts trunks and crates. She picked up the items, all of them, went to her workbench, and got to work.

She tried to rewire it and tried to exclude certain pieces, but by some mysterious force, the item would not function without the parts she attempted to leave out, and to build it any other way would mean she failed. Lisa didn’t want to fail. Although she was confused and frightened, she knew this was the experience she wanted.

She finished her construction, and the evaluation began. When it was Lisa’s turn, she pressed the large, ominous, bright red button on her control panel—the only button on the panel. The helicopter drones rose up in the air, rotated as if looking for something, focused on the proctor, and went crazy.

Lisa tried to turn it off, but it was too late…

News report: Channel 5 at 10 o’clock

“I am Colin Patterson, and we have breaking news tonight! In a shocking turn of events, a tryout for an advanced science society at Granger Station University has gone wrong. A student, seemingly going rogue, built a fleet of dangerous military-grade weapon drones and then targeted the proctor. The student, Lisa Everhart, is now in police custody and will be shipped to Washington, D.C., to be interrogated by the FBI, CIA, Secret Service, and more. We will bring you more as the story develops.”