Introductory part:
My name is Alexandra Danilenko. I study at P.M. Masherov Vitebsk State University.
Now modern IT technologies are tightly integrated into our lives, gradually covering more and more areas of human activity. But what if in the future people suddenly realize that they are more perfect than a computer, because they are able to consider several options for solving problems, and not fixate on one, as artificial intelligence does? What if they want to take advantage of this by creating a living machine out of a human, capable of nothing but calculating and choosing options?
Is science capable of changing the nature of personality, or will a person forever remain a human being?..

Excerpt from an article in TIME magazine, August 23, 2074.
"... both the human brain and the computer device are computing systems, but they are organized in completely different ways. The living human brain is an analog computer built on an extremely complex system of connections of tens of billions of neurons and is organized in a fundamentally different way than a classic "digital" computer device that works with the help of program codes created by the same people. Every human brain, even a very stupid person, is a neural network of amazing complexity.
The area of the human cerebral cortex, which scientists believe is responsible for the intellectual abilities of an individual, functions like a computer, as research by the University of Colorado at Boulder has shown. The prefrontal cortex and basal ganglia work as a digital computer system, are the executive center of the brain and support "high-level" cognition, including decision-making and problem solving at a more flexible and adaptive level than a computer.
On September 1, work begins on the "Homo vitae cerebro" project, in which six of the world's largest universities participate. The task is to create a certain number of universal individuals with the highest degree of work of the prefrontal cortex of the brain to solve various tasks..."

The diary of the Doctor of genetics and psychology, Professor Adam Stoyanov. Entry No. 1346.
"... every month there are more "disconnected". A couple of years ago, there was one in two or three months. Today was the sixth case. The sixth in three weeks! Diagnostics and tests show nothing.
All cases are put into an artificial coma until the question "And what to do with them now?" is resolved.
Alex Bordal insists on euthanizing and autopsiing everyone. He believes that this way we will understand why this is happening.
I am categorically against it, and so far most of the lab workers adhere to my position.
It does not matter that they are not people in the usual sense of the word. But–people!
The markers didn't give anything. They fail with various gene combinations.
...It is amazing that I have recently begun to comprehend them as machines!
And they are people! Yes, they were created artificially, by combining the genes of the best representatives of humanity! Yes, they don't talk, they don't laugh, they don't cry, they don't communicate! Yes, they work eighteen hours a day every day without lunches, weekends, vacations or illnesses.
But, still, people!
I watched the last case... his face was full of emotions! Fear, misunderstanding, embarrassment, curiosity… He examined his hands with such attention and genuine interest…
His superbrain could not stand the arrival of sensory and emotional information. Laboratory technicians do tests and diagnostics. Then a coma before making a decision..."

Number 20-14, male, actual age: 21.
"...Strange. Everything is strange in the morning. I can't explain, formulate. It's already been four hours. My fingers continue to flutter across the holographic screen, connecting previously incompatible formulas and elements. Two thousand five hundred and thirty-eighth option. It's almost clear where the lumbago is, but I can't organize myself and catch the mistake. And this morning feeling of dissonance and strangeness does not go away, but intensifies and is very distracting.
Dead end. I erase what I wrote with the palm of my hand, leaving a couple of interesting formulas. The hand freezes for a moment and the fingers flutter at the screen again, like butterflies.
Butterflies… I take out an image from the depths of memory. How do I know about them? One thousand forty-five days and eight hours ago, the question of the replacement of nectarivorous butterflies with leaf-eating and meat-eating ones. Why would I remember that? Hands froze at the screen. Hands... long fingers, rounded nails, thin wrist, pale skin… Option seven thousand three hundred and eight – about the genetic modification of Yellow Sea mollusks for cleaning coastal waters from chemicals ....
Why am I leaning to the right?
A wide passage illuminated by built-in plates. It's long. I can't see the end because of the twilight. Every three meters: a holographic screen, a chair and a pale man whose hands, like mine before, move quickly on it.
I turn around.
The same picture.
I straighten up. I look at the screen. We must continue.
What to continue? What for?
What strange questions. I don't understand what's going on!
Close your eyes, put your head in your hands, try to scream. A strange wheeze. Nerves are on edge. I don't understand what. Acute pain in the head. A light yellow light panel on the gray floor is approaching the face. The darkness..."

The pneumatic lift took Professor Stoyanov to the top floor of the head tower of the corporation "Origo Vitae". The door disappeared absolutely noiselessly into the wall, revealing a stunning view of a veil of pink, from the light of the setting sun, clouds below the platform and the coal-black sky above it. The chairman of the board of directors, Mr. Zhang Luo, stood facing the panorama with his arms crossed behind his back. His fingers slowly fingered the dark rosary beads, his back was tense, and swaying from toe to heel showed an extreme degree of irritation.
Stoyanov walked to the nearest chair, threw his hat on the table, sat down and sighed.
- A year ago, you promised me to fix everything, - Zhang Luo's voice sounded sonorous and almost without an accent.
- I didn't promise. I said that I would try to understand what was happening and, if possible, try to fix it. There is no understanding and, accordingly, there is no correction of the situation either," the professor retorted.
- why?
- I can't answer with the same conciseness with which you ask questions…
Zhang Luo turned around and swiftly crossed the space separating them from the professor. He sat down on the coffee table opposite and looked into the eyes of the interlocutor.:
- Adam…
- No, - interrupted the other, - you can at least open them all! But you will not find a physiological explanation.
- Are you sure?
- the Council will approve the killing and autopsy of forty-eight people?
- They are not people.
Stoyanov sighed, leaned on his knees and rubbed his face with his hands:
- An autistic person who lives in his own world and does not accept external information, a person?
"This is different," Zhang Luo said.
- why? Because a woman gave birth to him, and our wards are artificially grown in eco-boxes that mimic a woman's body? Combined gene materials do not mean that this is a soulless machine that can be turned off and disassembled at will, like a computer!
The Chairman got up and returned to the contemplation of the cloudy surface outside the window. The professor leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. There was silence in the hall.
- You and I started this project thirty years ago, - Zhang Luo spoke again, - are you suggesting to close it?
- Yes, - the professor nodded, - to gradually bring people out of the closed world into the general one. It's long and hard, but if you compare, in a similar situation, an autistic person has no chance at all…
- Do you understand?
- Yes, I understand that it is not you and I who solve these issues. This is my recommendation. And what and how will the Council decide… Without me... the letter of resignation is in your mail… From now on…
Under the silence of his old friend Adam Stoyanov got up from his chair and headed for the door. For a moment, before entering the elevator, he stopped:
"We've been playing God for too long. It's time to stop…
The door closed noiselessly behind him.