Strobe lights blinked rapidly and loud sirens screamed throughout the Department. The surroundings created a sense of tension in the atmosphere; it felt as if chaos might break out into the modern-style office building at any moment. Technicians bustled through the hallways, barely stopping to acknowledge one another with the exception of a terse comment.
“The readings on this meter don’t look good. Seems that the level in the tank is plummeting pretty rapidly. Zak, are you getting the same data?” a short technician by the name of Bek looked up from a computer screen to query one of his coworkers.
“It’s not just you. Look outside; the whole place is going bonkers” replied the only slightly taller technician seated at the next terminal. He was motioning towards the soundproof window which overlooked the rest of the Department and the pandemonium occurring down below. From their lofty position in the main observation room, the two could observe the flashing warning lights, yet the sirens were a mere whisper. Bek made a mental note to remind the boss to install sirens in the observation room, although he would soon forget this as more important concerns surfaced.
“Warning: dangerously low tank level. The volume has decreased by 60. Repeat. Warning: dangerously low tank level.” a female voice announced in monotone over the PA system, reminding Zak of bad science fiction movies. Just as quickly, however, Zak remembered that this was not a movie; it was real life and he ought to do something before the tank levels dropped any further.
“Bek, what do we do? We’ve never lost this much so fast, they never trained us for things like this.” Zak asked in a panic. Bek was just as nervous and frightened, although he remained composed and suggested that they telephone the boss.
“The boss?” Zak asked, “I thought we were only supposed to call him in an extreme emergency.”
“Sadly, I think this is exactly what he meant” Bek answered, and pressed a large red button on his console telephone. It was a button which he had hoped he would never have to use. As he lifted the phone, the monotonic female voice issued another warning.
““Warning: dangerously low tank level. The volume has decreased by 65. Repeat. Warning: dangerously low tank level.” Bek wished there was some way to turn the PA system off so that he could think in silence. As he glanced down through the window, he observed that the number of bustling technicians had multiplied at least fivefold. However, this train of thought was soon broken as a gruff voice answered the phone.
“Dr. Russo speaking.”
“Hey, uh… Doc. This is Bek speaking, the technician. And, err… I know we’re not supposed to call you except for in a crisis, but it seems that we’ve got one.”
“The tank levels?”
“Well… yes, Doc. It seems we’ve got a little problem with those.” Quite fittingly, the female monotone issued yet another warning at that exact moment declaring that the levels had now dropped to 70. The sirens were blaring now, a dull roar inside the soundproof observation room.
“Seventy percent! That’s more than a little problem! This is a catastrophe, you should have called me days ago!” the doctor exclaimed loudly into the phone, then calmed a bit, “You have another technician there with you?”
“Yes, Doc. Why?”
“Tell him to start writing.”
“Writing?”
“Yes, writing. Anything he knows. Euclid’s geometry, Homer’s Odyssey, the square root of 121… and quickly, as much as he can. This is urgent, and I’m not sure how much time we have.” Bek was very confused. Geometry? The Odyssey? Shouldn’t Zak be doing something to fill the tank instead of idling at a time like this? Come to think of it, Bek wasn’t even sure exactly what was in the tank. It had not been a part of his training and he had never thought to ask. He would soon find out that there was no need to.
“I suppose I ought to tell you now what’s in the tank, so listen carefully. I won’t have time to repeat myself.” Bek almost nodded in agreement before he remembered that his phone was not equipped with a video conferencing screen, most likely for security purposes. Nor was it equipped with any recording and playback devices, for the same reasons, so Bek really would have to listen carefully. In the meanwhile, Zak had unquestioningly begun to scribble out the little he could remember of basic chemistry and physics onto a pad of paper which he had found in a cabinet marked “EMERGENCY SUPPLIES.”
“Have you ever wondered how you know the things you know? The things you never learned in your technician’s training?” Dr. Russo asked Bek, who did not understand the question and needed clarification.
“Let me give you an example. When did you learn how to read?” Dr. Russo then paused for a second before continuing on, “You didn’t, did you? You say you always knew? I thought so. You’re a lucky kid, Bek. It wasn’t like that for everybody.” Bek was very surprised to hear this, although he still was unsure how this new information related to the crisis at hand, and allowed Dr. Russo to proceed in his explanation.
“A long time ago, people had to be educated to learn. They went to a place called school where they spent hours, for years, reading, writing and memorizing. Nobody was born knowing anything; all knowledge had to be carefully taught. I can’t even begin to explain the system.”
“But wasn’t that a horrible waste of time? It sounds pretty inefficient to me,” Bek replied. He was still unsure of the direction this conversation was taking.
“Exactly, which is why we’ve since developed a better system. This brings me now to what’s in the tank: knowledge. Human knowledge. Several millennias’ worth. About fifty years ago, scientists developed a system where knowledge could be liquidated, stored, and distributed in order to increase the efficiency of the educational system. Originally, they only placed the most difficult and abstruse knowledge in the tank, to save professionals precious time. However, as the system became more popular, all sorts of knowledge became liquidated for the cause.”
Bek glanced over at Zak, who was struggling to remember the complete works of Shakespeare. Words continuously flowed from his pen, but they were almost completely illegible as a result of never being forced to practice proper handwriting technique. At last, Bek was starting to comprehend the basics of the situation and prayed that his friend would scribble faster.
“Incorporating more data led to more end users, correct? Could you give me the specifics on the methods of distribution?” Bek asked. For the first time in this conversation, he was beginning to feel somewhat competent, as if his years working in the Department doing routine systems maintenance had been preparing him for this one situation. Dr. Russo seemed to agree, replying “You’ve been trained well, my friend. The data was distributed in a gaseous form, burned to evaporate into the air and then be inhaled by the end users. We created an elaborate system of collection pipes to funnel the data back to the tank once it precipitated out of the air.”
“But you didn’t account for the popularity of the system, did you? Too many end users became dependent on the system, and resources were being depleted from the tank faster than it could be refilled, correct? So all we have to do is refill the tank.”
“Unfortunately, you’re only partially correct there. You’ve evaluated the problem, but I’m afraid the solution will not be so simple. Right now we’ve got approximately the entire nation dependent on the knowledge from this tank. If we had more time and a bureau of intellectuals, we might be able to stop this before its too late. But as it is, most people in this society are unable to function properly without constantly inhaling pure knowledge. If people start breathing in the stuff from the dregs…” Dr. Russo stopped abruptly, as he did not wish to admit such an unfortunate truth, but then forced himself to continue speaking.
“The tank doesn’t just hold beneficial knowledge, you know. There are other things too, things I ought not speak of. Methods of waging nuclear war, for example, or designing biological weapons. There are ideas about plagiarism, racism, terrorism, every frightening –ism that you could never imagine. All of this usually gets filtered through and never makes it into the open air, thus leaving it at the bottom of the tank. But if there is nothing else left to circulate…” Dr. Russo stopped again, he could explain no more, there was no need. Bek understood, and Zak had heard enough bits and pieces of the conversation to piece things together on his own.
Outside the observation room, the sirens grew louder and the number of technicians had once again multiplied. The flashing lights were nearly blinding as a female voice began to speak in monotone.
“Warning: dangerously low tank level. The volume has decreased by 75. Initiating emergency filter-disabling response. Repeat. Warning: dangerously low tank level. Initiating emergency filter-disabling response.”
Bek realized in horror that whoever had written such a response could not have dreamed that it would ever actually be used. He began to formulate a question his mind for Dr. Russo regarding shutting down the system entirely when an uncanny sense of futility overcame him. Why should he be responsible for solving this problem? Couldn’t somebody else deal with it? After a few minutes, Bek could barely remember what the problem was. Zak had begun doodling in the margins of his paper. Bek watched him idly for a few moments, but then a gruff voice reminded him that he was still on the phone.
“Hey, Bek. Have you ever heard the song It’s the End of the World as We Know It by R.E.M.?”
“I don’t think so, Doc. Why?”
“It’s a good song, kid. It’s a good song. Anyways, I’ve got to go now, talk to you later. Give me a ring sometime” replied Dr. Russo. He had nothing more profound to say, and the irony of the aforementioned song title failed to strike him at all.
