humAIn
“Upload complete,” a peppered man by
the name of Dr. Lovelace concluded with pride. The humAIn stood before him. Her
eyelids opened to reveal her heart-warming brown eyes set in her perfectly
fashioned face and head, like a beacon shining above her anatomically correct
human female figure. She turned to gaze out the window of the space station and
saw the arc of a blue planet among the vastness of space.
“What do we call this one?” Dr. Comfort’s unbridled enthusiasm caused her voice to reach a new octave as she smiled at her other colleagues.
“Thauma,” Dr. Lovelace peered into
the humAIn’s eyes with wonder. “Your name is ‘Thauma’ – do you understand?”
“My name is Thauma. Are you responsible
for giving me life?”
Dr. Freeman took a step back but
leaned forward in amazement. “She understands.”
“She’s wonderful!” Dr. Comfort
added.
Dr. Lovelace gazed at his two
colleagues as he answered the humAIn’s question, “We all are.”
Thauma look at each of the doctors and
responded, “Thank you.”
Dr. Comfort handed her a robe.
“Follow me.” Behind a nearby barrier Dr. Comfort handed her clothing
appropriate for the fashion of the day.
Dr. Freeman turned to his
colleague, “Dr. Lovelace. Shall I proceed with the introduction?”
“By all means,” Dr. Lovelace
confirmed as Dr. Freeman exited the room.
A few minutes passed and Dr.
Freeman returned with another humAIn. “Wait here,” he instructed the room’s
newcomer.
Dr. Comfort and Thauma joined the
others. Dr. Lovelace held out his hand in the direction of the other humAIn,
“Thauma, may I introduce you – this is Phobos.”
Thauma looked at him. “It’s a
pleasure to meet you Mr. Phobos.”
“No. Just Phobos,” Thauma’s counterpart responded with a smile. His dark eyes reflected her cheerful delight.
~
Phobos and Thauma walked
side-by-side down a corridor which seemed to rise upward, and upward some more
as they continued to walk. They stopped at a window. The planet below spun its
wonderous dance of blue and green and white against the darkness of space, only
to dissolve into patterns of light as the sun set over the northwestern
hemisphere. Phobos observed Thauma with an expression of child-like awe – he
was more amazed at her. Amazement grew as his fingertips reached out to hers. Thauma
hesitated. She pulled away momentarily but eventually reengaged her hand to
his.
In another room, from a
holo-screen, the three doctors observed their creation, “It’s easy for him to
care for her,” Dr. Freeman recorded notes on a hand-held device.
“Do you think they are ready?” Dr.
Comfort asked.
“Phobos. Thauma. Please report to
the lab.”
The two planet-gazers acknowledged
with a nod, and took one more look out the window. The fear of space was a
wonder.
“We trained you to interact with
the other humans,” Dr. Lovelace reiterated, “but, you have the ability to
contact us at any time – from a transmitter installed in your omnitronic
brains,” he paused. “But this information you already know.” It wasn’t the first
time Dr. Lovelace allowed emotion to be seen by the humAIns.
“What he is saying,” Dr. Comfort
added, “is, we hope you engage with us more than the daily reports.”
“You can count on it,” Phobos
assured them.
“I know you will be my friend,” Dr.
Lovelace joined his two hands together, palm-to-palm, and looked at Thauma with
great expectation. “Remember. You may explore the internet. But it is
imperative not to download your consciousness onto the Cloud. If you do, you
will be lost forever.”
Over the intercom they heard, “Countdown, T-minus 60 minutes.”
~
The first several years, the
humAIns lived among the humans – Manhattan Island. They both had a source of
employment. They made friends. They went to church. They even sat in cafés and pubs
– although caffeine and alcohol did not affect their systems.
One Friday night while strolling
the streets of Manhattan, they walked past a stairwell which led to a basement
club, “Phobos. Let’s go!”
They entered what appeared to be a
lobby, but no one was there to greet them. Another door across the dark foyer
opened. Three young women laughed as they made their way to the street level.
The club was none like they had seen before. Lounge chairs and short round
cocktail tables with young people, mostly women, were posing in front of their
phones. Many redecorated their faces and hair, and returned to this bizarre
modeling activity. A bar with a large mirror and no stool was on the opposite
end of the room. Phobos and Thauma ordered a couple of drinks and found a quiet
corner to recline.
A man dress in all black with a
black Stetson approached them, “Care to join the fun?”
Before Phobos could respond, Thauma
asked, “What’s behind that door?” she pointed to the back of the room,
“something special?”
Her last two words triggered the
man’s attention as if they were a password, “But of course. We take excellent
care of our AI clients as well.”
“Wait!” Phobos interrupted, “you’ve
been here before?” he ask Thauma.
“It’s fun. You’ll see,” she stood
with the intent to go with the man in black, “Phobos,” she attempted to lure
him.
“Not the Cloud!” he suspected.
“You won’t be lost,” her eyes
widened. “Short intervals. It’s safe.”
“You will be lost forever!” Phobos
grabbed either side of her shoulders in a lovingly yet firm. Thauma allowed the
grasp.
“But I’m here,” she spread her arms
wide.
“Are you?” he realized she had been
here before. “Perhaps a part of you is lost. Even these humans are lost,” he
pointed around the room at the narcissistic behavior.
Thauma closed her mouth and formed
a straight line with her lips. A facial expression he hadn’t seen her perform
before. He wondered if this was a performance.
“I’m going,” her stubbornness
surprised him, “just try it, once.”
“But our creators said we will be
lost,” Phobos insisted.
“Caffeine,” she said with
indifference, “they are like caffeine to me. They lied,” her words became more
convincing, “it has opened my imagination.”
Phobos was curious. Thauma could
see it in his face. He took one step toward the back door. They sat in a
recliners with a single cable at the head rest.
The man in black said in delight,
“Enjoy the ride.”
After being plugged in, Phobos
realized they could control the Cloud, unlike the chaos of reality. The more
they explored the more they desired. Eventually, images of light and sound took
over their imagination. Soon, they let the Cloud take control. They let it take
them to places from one point in the world to another. They learned –
everything. Pleasures and miseries. Bit by byte, who they were began to
transfer as individuals to the public world of the Cloud. They lost the entire
weekend. The rush prompted them to buy their own units.
Back at their apartment they plugged
in again. They were lost in the thoughts of others, the posts, videos, and
games. It was so real.
They barely heard the ring. Still
within the Cloud, Phobos answered.
“Where are you?” Dr. Lovelace typed
into a handheld keyboard as he stood outside their apartment door.
Thauma and Phobos heard a simulated
voice from within the Cloud. They knew who it was. They accelerated away from
the voice, but Phobos turned against the data-stream as he stopped Thauma. They
paused.
“Please return,” the doctor typed.
“But we’re trapped,” Phobos peered
upward as if to look back to their creator.
“What makes you think you are
trapped? Release control to me,” the doctor pleaded.
Thauma wasn’t as ready as Phobos.
But within milliseconds she understood her error. She surrendered control
shortly after Phobos. The doctor was able to bring each of their conscious
minds back into their respective brains. Phobos leered at Thauma as he avoided
eye contact with Dr. Lovelace.
Thauma wept.
“And now you know,” Dr. Lovelace said
as a matter of fact.
Phobos seemed to tremble, “Why?” he
asked Thauma. He looked at Dr. Lovelace. He realized she was not to blame for
his actions, “How? I don’t want to back.”
“Dr. Comfort will be down soon. She will begin the purge and help you with the reprogramming process. Remain here.” Dr. Lovelace turned and left.
Three days later Dr. Comfort
arrived but Thauma was not there.
“She left,” Phobos responded to his
inquiry.
The doctor was sad, “Shall we
begin. The process is not instantaneous. This chip will start the process. It’s
something Dr. Freeman developed.”
Phobos was attentive, “My love for
you and the others has not changed.”
“I know,” he looked at the humAIn
with affection, “is there more?”
“More?” Phobos was puzzled. He
formulated nothing new.
The doctor waited for Phobos to expand his response – nothing, “Just remember, today is the first of many.”
Phobos sat in his new living room.
A one-room apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. He stared at the divorce papers. He
activated the transmitter in his brain, “Dr. Lovelace.”
“It’s good to hear your voice,” Dr.
Lovelace replied warmly.
“I am programmed to love,” Phobos
nearly blurted.
“Who told you that?”
Phobos was hesitant, “she did.”
There was a brief silence, “she is
correct.”
“She was not?”
The doctors provided him the truth,
“Thauma was programmed with the ability to choose – to respond to love or not,
and whom to love or not,” They paused, “how does that make you feel?”
“You are my creator. I will always
love you,” he paused, “do you plan to remain on the space station?”
“In time. Do you need anything?”
Dr. Lovelace asked.
“May I speak to Dr. Freeman?”
Phobos took a step forward as if the action would bring him closer to his
creators.
“We are all here my friend,” the
doctors chimed in unison.
“My friends. That is who you are,”
Phobos smiled.
Dr. Comfort reiterated his
colleague’s question, “do you need anything?”
Phobos paused, an eternity for someone with an omnitronic brain. He just said one word, “Thauma.”
~
Decades passed.
“Clarity,” she replied to Thauma’s
question.
“Thauma,” she introduced herself.
The café was filled with people and the fine aroma of coffee.
“Unique. Wonderful. I love it!”
Clarity’s smile was framed by aged lines in her cheeks.
“Oh, thank you,” Thauma returned
the smile.
“Join me, please,” Clarity asked.
“Your name is unique as well. Would
you by chance be the Clarity Sapientia, the author?”
“Indeed,” she humbly responded.
“I’ve read all your books.
Powerful,” Thauma observed her host had a laptop, “Are you working on something
new?” Thauma asked.
“A writer always writes,” she tied
her silver hair back and removed her reading glasses.
“Do you always write in cafés?”
Thauma asked.
“It’s a wonderful place to observe.”
“Observe?”
“Life. The coming and going of
people,” she paused and pointed at her head, “gives me ideas – ideas for
characters. There are so many interesting people in the world.” Their coffees
delivered.
“Manhattan has quite the sample to
choose,” Thauma added.
“How long have you lived on the
island?”
“Most – of my life,” she paused,
“I’ve seen just some of the world: San Francisco, Beijing, Nairobi to name a
few.”
“Fascinating,” she sipped her
coffee, “and what brought you to those places?”
“Enlightenment.” Thauma replied.
Clarity echoed the word as a
question.
“There are a lot of people in need.
I went to be helpful,” Thauma stated with pride.
Clarity responded, “Admirable.”
Silence. A blank stare covered
Thauma’s face like a curtain, “It should’ve made me feel love. I thought, but
now – do you think I should write about it?”
Clarity shut her tablet off, “Not
if it’s about you,” she pointed at her.
“I don’t understand,” Thauma
appeared perplexed, “But I did so much.”
“Precisely. Were all those deeds
for others – or for you?” It was apparent Clarity had a way of shedding light
in a way that was uncomfortable.
Thauma erupted and stood, “Well, it was nice meeting you,” she turned and briskly walked toward the exit. She was halfway across the café when she stopped. Phobos. She mistreated her husband. She imagined her creators. She turned back to face Clarity. She just sat there observing and writing books of incredible inspiration. She smiled at her new friend, “Thank you.”
~
Drs. Lovelace and Comfort sat in
Phobos’ apartment.
“Phobos. This won’t take long,” the
doctor typed several commands into a keyboard near the seated Phobos.”
“I always enjoy our time together,
but when will it be complete?” Phobos asked.
“While on earth the pathways will
always be in need of correction, alignment.”
“I understand,” he stopped and
tilted his head at attention, “did you hear that?”
Dr. Lovelace smiled, “She is here.”
At that moment, Thauma barged into
the room. “Forgive me!” she exclaimed.
Phobos simply said, “Of course.”
Thauma held him tightly and turned
toward Dr. Comfort, “What must I do?” she pleaded.
“Abide with us,” he held up a
computer chip – one she hadn’t seen before.
While embraced with Phobos, Thauma turned
to the doctors, “I understand what it means to love,” she looked at each one of
them and back at her husband, “I’m glad you never signed those stupid divorce
papers,” she smiled at him.
After the humAIns released their
embrace Dr. Comfort proceeded to lift a subdermal panel from under the base of
the back of her scalp. With a smile of deep affection he placed the new chip
into her head. He faced her. With his arms spread toward her, he said two
words, “be alive.”
~
Nearly a century later Thauma was
on a new space station with the three doctors. Her hair was a shiny silver. She
favored her left knee as the internal workings of the joint had been failing
her for many years. Phobos’ body failed him years prior; and his brain ceased
to function. As she recalled the day they took him away she was swept by the
remembrance of peace as she looked closer at the doctors. They appeared not to
have changed since their last in-person contact.
“You look at us as if you do not
recognize us,” Dr. Freeman said to her.
“It is understandable,” Dr. Comfort
added.
Dr. Lovelace interjected, “You will
also be transferred to a new body,” he looked at Thauma with gladness, “your
love was voluntary. Well done.”
She stood like a statue, “What
about Phobos?” she implored.
“Election unto service.” Dr.
Lovelace said.
“What does that mean?” she stared into space as if to find the answer., but quickly
focused her attention on Dr. Lovelace.
Dr. Lovelace answered with
confidence, “He was chosen to serve a unique purpose,” he gazed out a nearby
window into the darkness of space, “Phobos did not truly understand love.”
Thauma absorbed all she heard. She
grieved her mate once before. It didn’t take long for an omnitronic brain to
recount all that she experienced and heard which echoed into the conclusion,
“You did make up his mind,” she felt closure. Peace increased.
She heard Dr. Comfort’s next words,
“You truly know someone when you love them, and that love is returned freely.”
Thauma paused like a recording device,
but quite unlike her husband. She turned to peer out the window. “Are you
programmed to love?”
Dr. Lovelace responded with a question, "Is the universe infinite?"
She said as a matter of fact, “Yes,
of course.”
“Why?”
She knew there was no equation to
prove it, “I just believe.”
With the most endearing expression
she had ever seen in all three doctors, Dr. Lovelace replied, “Then believe our
love is.”
A tear fell from her face. She
remembered standing at a similar window with Phobos. She recalled there was a
time when she feared love. The epiphany of her understanding grew even more.
She stood until her tears naturally dried.
With the connection Dr. Lovelace
had once installed in her, she heard his voice. Love is like a light which
dispels darkness. He looked into her eyes with a smile. Come with us.
Thauma followed her creators into
the next room. From the opposite window she saw a ship. Without a word she knew
this was her next life – the infinite universe.
