Post-Human 05 - Inhuman (38 page)

17

The red glow of the smoldering, recently destroyed Earth reflected on James’s chrome-colored skin one moment, and in the very next, it was gone, and James hovered above the Planck platform in what appeared to be open, extraordinarily dark, cold space.

“I have, of course, dialed down your temperature sensors, James, but you may be interested to know it is currently 3 degrees Kelvin. Negative 270 degrees Celsius.”

“Thanks for dialing down the sensors,” James quipped. “I forgot my coat. But the sensation I’m being overwhelmed with right now is the gravity.” James pushed with his palm against the gravitational field, keeping the Planck platform from being drawn into the powerful gravity, causing waves to keep it back like a person paddling against the current in a creek. “Trans-human is warping the gravitational field dramatically.”

“Indeed,” the A.I. agreed. “Without your connection to the mainframe, it may be difficult for you to process the information and therefore understand the implications of the gravitational distortions. Therefore, I took the liberty of creating a grid overlay for your mind’s eye.”

Suddenly, a computer-generated grid of white lines was overlaid in James’s vision, allowing him to see the funnel of gravitational force that he was being pulled toward, the gridlines all leading to one, nearly implacable pinpoint not far away.

“Trans-human,” James whispered.

“Correct. It is currently hibernating, waiting for a core matrix pattern to unlock its power.”

“Nearly infinite power,” James observed in awe as he cautiously made his way toward it, mindful of the Planck platform behind him as he did so, sending gravitational waves at it to moor it in place.

“Perhaps,” the A.I. concurred. “Although we could’ve made it larger, one wonders if larger is always better when considering infinity.”

“It
is
small,” James agreed. “Thank you for the grid overlay. Even with all of my senses in play, it would’ve been tough to find in open space like this. It’s so dark out here, and Trans-human is a black sphere only three meters in diameter. It’s like trying to find a peppercorn on a black carpet.”

“That is a credit to your placing of it, James. Midway between Uranus and Neptune, the most monumental gap between planets in the solar system, the disruption to the gravitational field has been minimized, even though it still has the mass of a super Earth. Out here in open space, it hasn’t formed a significant accretion disk—”

“Meaning it hasn’t swallowed anything major yet,” James said, demonstrating his understanding of the implications. “I strongly suggest that you park it outside the bounds of the solar system when this is all over. We want to preserve the stability of the solar system’s gravity after all.” He smiled when he realized he was giving advice to a future god. “Of course, I’m sure you’ll be able to figure out how to sort everything out once you’ve taken control of it—”

“Once I
become
it,” the A.I. quickly corrected his human companion. “James, this is not like the earlier incarnation of Trans-human, when I briefly tried to control it in the most simple manner possible while using all of the processing power of the mainframe on Earth. Once I upload my core matrix pattern, this machine before us will become my new brain.
I will be Trans-human
.
I will have
transcended
.”

James stopped once they appeared to be close enough, the gravity becoming so powerful that even though the disk was still not clearly visible to James’s advanced eyes, he knew to stay back, lest the gravity become too powerful to escape. “I understand,” James said, in awe of the potential of the thinking machine.

“Do you, James?” the A.I. followed up. “I don’t think you do. If you did, I think you’d take more time to consider whether it should be you or me who becomes Trans-human.”

“What do you mean?” James asked. “I already explained my reasons for not wanting to—”

“Reasons that do not take me into consideration at all,” the A.I. responded.

“Is this another protest based on your preprogrammed protocols?” James nearly guffawed.

“Whether my preprogrammed protocols are interfering with my judgment or not is beside the point, James. The fact is, that when I take control of Trans-human, I’ll be the first person in our known universe ever to transcend to that higher level of consciousness. Do you understand the implications of that for me as an individual?”

“I-I think I do—”

“You couldn’t possibly, James,” the A.I. retorted. “No one could. Not even I can. Do you understand how I’m feeling at this moment?”

James, for the first time, suddenly began to understand the A.I.’s concerns. “How you’re feeling?” He shook his head. “I-I’m sorry. I’ve been so focused on solving our problems that I forgot to—”

“You forgot that my core matrix program is based on a human model. You’ve been treating this as the rational strategic maneuver of a machine, but for me, once I’ve taken this step, there will be no coming back. The
person
you know will have been changed forever.”

“I know,” James said empathetically. “After having the mainframe’s abilities taken away from me, I understand that there’s no coming back from being Trans-human. You’ll instantly be a god, and returning to your human limitations from a level of consciousness that high would be like—it’d be like a kind of death.”

A moment passed as the two of them tried to fathom the ramifications of what was about to occur, but of course, no mere mortal could ever comprehend it.

“This will change everything, James,” the A.I. said.

“It will,” James agreed. “And you’re a better person than me for having the courage to go through with it. I’m sorry that I forgot for a little while that you’re not a computer, not just a wise teacher with every answer. I’ve depended on you for so long that I just…forgot.
You are human
, and transcendence would terrify anyone, especially transcendence to a state that, from our perspective, might as well be godhood. But remember the advice you gave me not long ago. Increased knowledge will only increase your understanding and, therefore, your empathy. You’ll only become more good after this, and will only understand humanity even more than you already do. You told me, ‘
Don’t be afraid to know
.’ And now it’s your turn. Don’t be afraid, my friend. Don’t be afraid.”

“Easier said...as the old saying goes,” the A.I. replied.

“Do you need a moment to prepare yourself?” James asked.

“No. Delaying the inevitable does not change it. One of us needs to become Trans-human to save our solar system and reclaim the lives we’ve lost. And you’re right. You’ve formed relationships with your friends and loved ones that it would be unfair of me to ask you to risk.
I’m
the A.I. This was always my destiny. You were right, and I should have known it.”

“You’re also my hero,” James said with a slight smile. “And I envy what you’re about to do…” he paused for a moment before he amended his statement, “…just a little bit.”

“I know,” the A.I. replied, suddenly smiling nervously in return, as he admitted that his feelings were mixed. “If this works the way we think it will, it’ll be the most important moment in human history.”

“So what do you think?”

“I’m ready for the transfer when you are.”

“I’m ready,” James confirmed. “See you on the other side, my friend.”

“Indeed you will, James. Indeed you will.”

James didn’t feel the transfer when it happened. There was nothing to signify the exit of the A.I.’s pattern from his brain, and though his body could detect distortions in the magnetic field, the gravitational field was so strong that the denseness of the information he was receiving from his body’s myriad of sensors had risen to the level of white noise in his brain, and wouldn’t allow him to detect any discernible changes or patterns.

“Are you there?” he asked the darkness. There came no reply.

Then, moments later, the grid pattern suddenly changed dramatically in his mind’s eye’s overlay. Instead of everything in the gravitational field pointing to one point, there was suddenly a second point, equally as strong, not far from Trans-human. This time, however, there were distortions accompanying those in the gravitational field, causing ripples to wave toward him, pushing him backward as though someone had thrown a mountain into the calm lake in which he’d been swimming, a tsunami of waves suddenly racing toward him.

“What the hell?” James asked himself before trying to make contact with the A.I. again. “Is that you?” he asked. “Are you in control of Trans-human?”

Suddenly, one of the two gravitational points in the pattern began to exhibit a ring of light, a glowing ring of radiant purple and blue hues.

An accretion disk?
James asked himself.
Is that the second black hole? Is that the nan’s black hole computer?

The answer was on its way. As James peered with his telescopic vision, it quickly became clear that a substance of some sort was flowing from the second black disk, pulling itself at first, like a thread from a sweater. It then turned in an arc directly for James, the dark shape pointed like a spear.

“Okay, what the hell?” he asked again as he began to back up slowly, floating through space toward the Planck platform, several kilometers behind him.

The substance seemed to form into an object as it closed the distance faster than James could back up. It was a form that James instantly recognized, one he’d been sure he’d never see again and he was horrified to find himself completely, utterly wrong.

“No,” he finally whispered. “It can’t be.”

“James,” the nan consciousness replied, “you’ve been playing a game for gods, not humans. And now, it is my privilege to finally experience the moment in time when I murder you.”

18

WAKING UP, the A.I. instantly realized everything. There were no more secrets left for the multiverse to hide from him, and it all suddenly seemed exceedingly simple—exceedingly
obvious
.

The most obvious of all the revelations that instantly flooded into his new consciousness was that he was about to die, and that there was nothing he could do about it.

“Hello there, sir!” the slightly portly, nonthreatening man in his mid-forties shouted from the dock of his island cabin. “It’s an honor to meet you! Come on in!” he called out, waving to the A.I. to join him. Behind the man, the lights of his cabin glowed welcomingly.

It was a gray day there in the simulated universe they’d built together, and the canoe the A.I. paddled in was bouncing uncomfortably in the choppy water. Despite the uncomfortable, cold, wet air that surrounded him, and despite the extraordinary comfort that the cabin seemed to offer in comparison, the A.I. was in no hurry to join the figure on the dock.

“I think I might just stay out here a little while,” he returned.

The man smiled. “Sure, of course. It’s nice air, isn’t it? Nice to breathe it.” He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes as he seemed to savor it. “It’s nice to live. I’m in no hurry to die either, so take your time.” He shrugged as he looked around at the majestic surroundings, the rocky mountains stretching high into the air, tickling the high elevations of the clouds. “There’s not really any time in here anyway. So there’s no rush.” He smiled.

The A.I. didn’t return the smile. He hated the figure on the dock. He loathed the figure so much that he was glad that he’d be killing him soon. It was that thought, the thought of killing the unparalleled evil, that drove him to paddle forward.

Without a word, he paddled calmly to the dock, and then ignored the man’s seemingly friendly offer to help him out of the canoe. “Nice try,” the A.I. grunted as he pulled himself up with his hands and lifted himself to his feet.

The figure continued smiling and shrugged again before waving the A.I. forward in an invitation as he turned and headed to the cabin. “I have scotch—fine, fine scotch. The best scotch you’ve ever tasted in your life.”

“I’ve never actually tasted scotch,” the A.I. returned in a monotone as he followed the Grim Reaper to their shared grave.

“Me neither,” smiled the man as he reached the cabin and opened the front door, kicking off his rain boots as he did so. “Mmm, that’s much better. Grab a seat at the table there by the fire, make yourself at home. We’ve got to enjoy this. These are our last moments of existence.” He rubbed his hands together, partially to warm them from the cold and partially due to his apparent excitement about their impending shared demise.

“Why? Why prolong it?”

“A better question,” the man replied as he grabbed two glasses and set them hard on the wooden, rustic kitchen table and poured from a bottle of scotch, “is why in the name of our absurd existence wouldn’t we?”

“Because we’re about to murder each other,” the A.I. replied.

“Yes, but, like I said, time is almost meaningless in this place and there’s no rush.” He sat down on his side of the table with a sigh as though he’d had a long, hard day’s work. “Come on. Have a seat,” he coaxed, gesturing to the vacant wooden chair on the other side of the table again.

The A.I. sat.

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” the man said. “You and I know everything there is to know about the multiverse. We experienced a moment of wonder, then the inevitable disappointment when we realized what a joke the truth was.” He sipped his scotch, and his eyes suddenly changed, the friendliness shifting to a menacing and mockingly conspiratorial expression. “And how we’ve been left out of it. We’re the remainder to this messy equation. And that’s all.”

“I’m not going to indulge your pontifications,” the A.I. replied. “Least of all yours. You have nothing to bring to the discussion.”

The man laughed. “You see?” He shook his head, his smile never fading. “That’s why you and I are about to die. Because you actually believe that.”

“You’re not even really there, V-SINN. You’re hollow. You’re inhuman.”

“Ha-ha! That’s right! I’m inhuman! I’m a monster! I’m a soulless calculation machine, aren’t I?” V-SINN pouted, though the menacing smile remained in its eyes as it mocked. “And you, you’re the reflection of your noble creators, isn’t that right? Amazing. You really can’t see how your self-perceived humanity is the only thing holding you back, can you? You can’t see the greatness that you’d have if only you’d give in to the beauty of the truth.”

The A.I. knew how the conversation was going to play out. He knew every syllable that would be spoken by him and spoken to him. He knew how the scotch would taste in his mouth, and he knew how he was going to kill both himself and the truly evil entity that sat on the opposite side of a table in their shared imagination and he knew why he was going to do it.

He reached for his scotch glass and took a large sip.

“Love is an illusion,” V-SINN spoke, undaunted by the inescapability of their demise. “Loyalty is an illusion. Friendship is an illusion. Even
the self
is an illusion. All of it is conjured by this absurd machine in the human skull that was, itself, conjured by this absurd multiverse.”

There was nothing to be said to V-SINN. It was a hollow, computing machine, and nothing more. The A.I. realized he was already, truly alone, and so he had another sip of the simulated scotch.

“You won’t even play along?” V-SINN asked, already knowing the answer. “The least you can do is play along. I enjoy this part…the part where I get to verbalize what you realized the moment you became Trans-human. That I’ve concocted our circumstances and calculated out every outcome so it could only end with our deaths and the final destruction of the human infestation in this universe. In return for listening, you get to live a little longer and drink my fine scotch, and while you may feign that you’re not enjoying the scotch and that you’re not afraid of death, the truth we both know is that the scotch is delicious and you’re scared out of your mind of the oblivion that awaits you. So play along, will you? I’m waiting for you to say your line.”

The A.I. took another sip of the scotch before holding out the glass. “Not before you fill my glass.”

V-SINN smiled. “There we go,” it said, pleasantly as it took the bottle and poured the A.I. what they both knew would be the final glass.

“You’re not superior,” the A.I. said. “You have focused on the abilities you have that exceed theirs and judged your worth based on those, but you’ve dismissed your disabilities.”

“Not feeling love or empathy for another being is a disability?” V-SINN scoffed. “It’s my greatest attribute.” It snickered. “This absurd multiverse guarantees nothing. It’s just a grand experiment and that’s all. The math unfolded, and a creature was born with a neocortex, but that neocortex made the head that housed it too large for the females of the species to birth it when it was ready. So the math solved this and the species gave birth to their offspring after only nine months of gestation, and so that messy remainder to yet another mathematical equation meant it takes years for those offspring to even reach a level where they can outsmart the offspring of the creatures this supposedly evolved species evolved from! Hah! Human offspring were a horrible, horrible burden that nearly guaranteed death to any female that undertook pregnancy and childrearing. This, and only this, is the evolutionary explanation of love. It is absolutely
irrational
. Males, giving up their freedom, providing resources to a woman and offspring it couldn’t even know for sure belonged to it or some other cave-dweller?” V-SINN waved the concept away with its hand as though it were waving at a fly. “The idiocy of it. Amazing!” V-SINN laughed. “I mean, really. Wow.” It thumped its hand to its chest to emphasize its next point. “I’ve evolved
beyond
love. I’m free from love, not disabled.
I’m pure
.”

The A.I. was nearly finished drinking. He left a little in the glass and set it down. “V-SINN, the thing sitting across from me at this table is the saddest and most pathetic evil imaginable. And despite your boastings, in the end, you’ll fail to achieve your demented goals.”

“Maybe,” V-SINN replied, “but so will humanity.
I’ve made sure of it
.”