Not as much as I wanted, but more than my usual daily.
Back in the day, researchers going through what’s left of the Amalgamation’s archives found recordings of the major pre-historical fauna of Earth. We immediately duplicated the sound that a saber-tooth tiger on the hunt makes and made it into our standard alarm signal, because there’s nothing that’s better at immediately getting a human being’s focused attention, no matter how chaotic the situation. It certainly did the job here, letting me know that danger lurked; and a mere fifteen seconds after 4-9-43 had gone offline, too. That’s a good reaction time, for a mixed electronic-human warning system.
I had still beaten it, though; it had taken me a bare second of sudden BSOD and an unpleasantly empty telemetry stream for my reflexes to punch in a sudden burn… away from the cargo ship. Away was good. Away would give me space room to maneuver while I figured out what to do next, and what the cold equations of orbital mechanics would let me do.
Starting with: “Nur! Burn’s over. Strap off and get in the cockpit!” He accordingly got, shoving himself in an already powering up second seat. “You two, stay where you are! Nur, get me something better at seeing than my eyeballs.”
Right about then we got the debris shockwave, which was somewhere between ‘rattling the hull’ and ‘hope you had your spacesuit sealed.’ The Amalgamation had these really good force fields that could take a shot from a gamma ray laser and stay up, and that didn’t do them any good at all. We just have something that keeps hunks of exploded starships from turning us into Euro-cheese.
I’m not good enough to have been thinking about all of that at the time. Right then, I was too busy trying to straighten the Morrigan after a hunk of particularly broken spaceship smacked into my port engine and made it a demented variable thrust generator. I would have preferred it had just blown up, you know? I can maneuver a ship on one engine, if I have room. Maneuvering it one and a half’s a different story.
You might as well stop now. We are all doomed.
https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/technology/scientists-successfully-transplanted-human-brain-cells-into-baby-rats-now-other-scientists-are-afraid-of-creating-super-rats/ss-AA132V3U?ocid=msedgntp&cvid=fcc6029f78eb4623a2f80ab5aaf5a87f
Are we sure we want NASA to stop the inevitable SMOD? These days I’m not convinced….
So, first, Mrs Brisby is not a meaningful threat to human existence, especially if she can’t breed true. Second… processing power is a lot more about how many brain cells you can cram in there usefully than it is about which animal those brain cells came from. Rat skulls just aren’t large enough for this to be a real concern.