Post-Human 5 Book Boxed-Set: (Limited Edition) (Plus Book 6 Preview Chapters)

by David Simpson

“Yes. I know you are familiar with nanobots, Craig. Like the respirocytes, only much more complex. You now have over 200 different types of nans in your system, and 4.6 million inside you in total, all of which are performing different tasks. Some of them are designed to transgress the blood-brain barrier and form connections to neurons in your brain. Some connect to the visual and aural centers so you can access your mind’s eye, while others connect to the motor control centers so you can control your powers.”

  Craig’s knees began to shake, and he slowly lowered himself onto the cold concrete floor of the room, covering his eyes with his hands. “How do I turn this thing off?” he asked, outwardly calm but quelling a quickly bubbling claustrophobia.

  “Are you not well?”

  “I’m fine. I just want this mind’s eye thing to shut off.” He felt as though he were drowning in technology that he didn’t want.

  “I’m sorry, Craig, but once the start-up has been initiated, you’re going to have to go through the set-up process. Only you will be able to shut it off once you’ve gained control over your mind’s eye.”

  “How long is that going to take?” Craig asked impatiently, suddenly pulling his hands from his eyes and looking up at the man. The man immediately turned away, but in the moment before he did so, Craig had caught him staring down at him in a way that was so unsettling that it caused Craig to forget his annoyance with the mind’s eye and get to his feet. Something wasn’t right about the man.

  “Who are you?” Craig asked.

  “No one you know,” the man replied, continuing his custom of avoiding eye contact.

  “Who are you?” Craig demanded. “What’s your name?”

  The man smiled. “Would you believe I don’t have one?”

  Craig could feel the hair on his arms and the back of his neck standing. If anyone else had answered the question the way the man had, Craig would’ve thought they were being coy or straight-up smart-mouthed. But there was something so unsettling and wrong about the figure before him that he knew his answer had been the truth. The man had no name.

  “I used to have one—or at least I thought I did. However, it turned out that I didn’t.” The man smiled again, still not looking at Craig, instead looking away in the direction of the wall.

  Craig was sure the man was retrieving some sort of memory—something that haunted him.

  “You intrigue me, Craig,” the man said, turning to Craig as he did so and finally allowing their eyes to meet. There was still something wrong—something off-center, almost as though the man had two lazy eyes. “Like you,” he continued, “I have recently arrived here in this reality. Like you, I thought I had an altogether different life. And like you, I had to accept that it is gone.”

  “You...” Craig began, a horrifying realization suddenly upon him. “You aren’t human, are you?”

  The man briefly looked disappointed, the corners of his lips turning down in a frown. Then, oddly and just as quickly, they turned up into an impressed smile. “What was it about me that tipped you off?”

  “Your eyes,” Craig answered.

  “Mm-hmm,” the man replied, suddenly taking on the manner of an objective researcher, questioning a subject. “That’s to be expected. The hologram is not calibrated correctly throughout the entire facility, so I find it difficult to meet someone’s eyes perfectly when we are moving from room to room. Results vary, depending where we are. I tried to hide it by keeping my gaze lowered, but that only works for so long. Anything else?” He seemed hungry for data.

  “Something’s off—just your whole manner, your reactions to things. You’re the A.I., aren’t you?”

  The A.I.’s smile returned. “Yes, indeed I am. I am sorry I didn’t tell you at the outset, but it’s extraordinarily rare that we have new people upon whom I can test my progress.”

  “Progress?”

  “Yes. As of yet, I haven’t been able to pass the Turing test. There are parts of my evolution that are incomplete. I was hoping I could keep up the ruse a little longer, but there are serious flaws remaining in the technology, most of them pertaining to the holograms. For one, the frame rate is too high. Did you notice that I appear in too high a definition?”

  Craig cocked his head to the side. “I hadn’t consciously noticed anything about your definition being too high, but there is certainly something unsettling.”

  “I haven’t mastered how to appear real. I’ve experimented with differing frame rates and was hoping to have found the right balance with you, but you reported the same unconscious feeling of unheimlich as everyone else.”

  “‘Unheimlich’?”

  “Yes,” the A.I. replied. “I’m sorry, Craig. Sometimes I still have problems filtering information, and there are more connections than my human listeners can digest. The notion of the unconscious caused me to consider Freud, which then led to me thinking of his paper ‘The Uncanny’ which, in turn, made me think of the original German rendering. Unheimlich is a German word. It is translated into English as ‘uncanny,’ but there is something important missing in the translation that I feel makes it a poor one. You see, heim means ‘home’ in German, so unheimlich really means ‘unhomely,’ but of course, English doesn’t have such a word.”

  Something in the A.I.’s explanation caused Craig to turn away from the disturbing figure and put his hand over his eyes once again.

  “Have I overloaded you with extraneous information, Craig?” the A.I. asked in a tone that was not so much sympathetic or apologetic as inquisitive. “I do that sometimes. It is a problem on which I am working.”

  “No,” Craig replied, “it’s not extraneous. Unhome is exactly the right word.”

  5

  A crowd of nearly 100 had gathered in front of the Planck platform in anticipation of the return of a small probe that had spent the last ten hours in a parallel universe. Aldous stood with the others, checking the time readout on his mind’s eye as the seconds ticked down to the probe’s hypothesized return.

  “If you turn out to be right,” Sanha Cho—formerly MIT Professor of theoretical physics, Sanha Cho—said in a low voice at Aldous’s side, “you’ll have written your name in the history books once again.”

  “Let’s just hope future generations will actually get to read about these events, Sanha,” Aldous replied. It was true; the last decade had been one that should have placed Aldous’s name amongst the best scientific minds in human history, yet all of his greatest achievements had occurred while he and the other post-humans were in hiding. A record was being kept, sure, but it wasn’t clear whether that record would ever reach the outside world.

  “Sixty seconds,” Sanha stated. “Nervous?”

  “I’ll be right,” Aldous replied. “Watch.”

  The probe had been sent into Universe 66, one of nearly 3,000 catalogued parallel universes. Its timer had been set to bring it back after ten hours, but Aldous had theorized that time could pass differently in different universes, according to Einstein’s theory of relativity. He’d been able to detect a slight difference in time passage in Universe 66, and if the probe returned as he expected—fourteen minutes and thirty-three seconds late—his theory would prove correct. The probe was already fourteen minutes and twenty seconds behind schedule.

  “Ten seconds,” Sanha whispered.

  It should have been a moment of triumph, but the most important element was missing. He clicked on his mind’s eye and saw that his wife was in their quarters, monitoring the A.I.’s progress with her first husband. He felt nauseous.

  The probe’s return was instantaneous—so much so that anyone who blinked would have missed its sudden cross from Universe 66 into Universe 1. However, the echo of the crossing was, as usual, accompanied by what was now referred to as “the ripple” by the post-humans. It had been unexpected and terrifying the first time the phenomenon had been witnessed, but this was the thirty-fourth time a probe had returned to Universe 1. The ripple was a wave of space-time distortion that felt different for each
individual: by some as a slowing or speeding of time as though God was playing with a film projector and by others as a physical warping of their surroundings, similar to the experience in a hall of mirrors. It was impossible to say how long the distortions lasted. Some experienced it as a matter of seconds, while others experienced the phenomenon for nearly a full minute. The effect appeared to be random.

  “It’s back!” Sanha proclaimed as soon as his experience of the distortion had dissipated enough for him to step forward and check the time readout on the probe surface. “Just like you said, Aldous! The atomic clock reads ten hours!” He turned with an excited smile toward Aldous, as did everyone else in the room, only to discover that he was no longer there. “Aldous?”

  “Aldous, are you okay?” Sanha’s image asked as it appeared in Aldous’s mind’s eye.

  Aldous was marching grimly down a long corridor toward his quarters. “I’m fine. I told you I was right,” he said as he suddenly began to levitate, floating down the corridor and picking up speed, the air becoming a breeze that ruffled his hair.

  “If you’re not feeling well,” Sanha replied, “I highly recommend getting one of the A.I.’s nan adjustments. You’ll feel right as rain afterward.”

  “This is one issue where I’d prefer to deal with it the old-fashioned way, my friend. I’ll talk to you later.”

  He inhaled deeply before using his mind’s eye to open the door of his quarters. As the door slid into the wall, it revealed his wife, sitting on the edge of their king-sized bed, her legs crossed as she stared out at the faux view of the mountains that made up the far wall of the room.

  “It arrived right on time,” Aldous said.

  She shifted her head slightly, so as to speak over her shoulder. “I saw. You were right. Universe 66 is, indeed, moving slower than we are. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” he replied, “but this was just as much your hypothesis as it was mine.” He paused painfully for a moment as he considered his next words. “Why weren’t you there?”

  His question made her turn to him, her expression quizzical. “You know why.”

  It was true: He did know why. All of her attention was now focused on her resurrected former husband. He nodded. “I love you.”

  Her mouth opened slightly in shock. She knew Aldous was not given to soft emotions. He could be hard at times—angry or inspired—but love was something that did not come easily to him. An emotional expression of tenderness was so rare that it left Samantha befuddled. “Aldous?”

  “I can’t turn it off,” he continued. “I feel like a thief. I feel as though I stole you from him.”

  “Aldous, please,” she began, her expression becoming sympathetic as she stood and walked toward him.

  “I never thought we’d be together, Sam, but I always loved you—always.”

  She froze. In all their time together, a spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings like the one that was erupting before her now had never occurred. She’d intended to embrace him, but instead stood in silence and listened.

  “I thought at first that I could express my love by being the best mentor I could possibly be. I thought if I helped you achieve your potential—if you stood on my shoulders—that it would be enough for me.” His eyes, which had been locked on hers, suddenly drifted to the side as she stared into the dark recesses of his memory. “Then he died. And then you were alone. I was too old to be a lover, but I thought, perhaps, I could be a father figure. I thought, perhaps, we could become family. I thought that would be enough for me.”

  To her amazement, she watched as twin tears began to well in the corners of his eyes. She stepped to him and grasped his hand as he continued.

  “It wasn’t enough though. It just...wasn’t.” He nearly choked on the words. She silently embraced him, wrapping her arms around him and putting her cheek against his chest. “Sometimes I think my quest for immortality was as much about becoming young for you as it was about saving the lives of every living soul on Earth.”

  She nearly gasped as she pulled her face from his chest and met his eyes, stunned.

  He shook his head. “Even if you put a gun to my head, I honestly couldn’t tell you which was the stronger motivation. I’ve loved you for so long, Samantha. I just can’t turn it off.”

  She put her head back against his chest and closed her eyes firmly as her grip on him tightened. He squeezed her back, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “You’re my everything, Aldous,” she whispered through tears.

  Suddenly, a warning flashed in both of their minds’ eyes. Their embrace ended as they each stood straight, shocked. The warning system had never been triggered before, but they both knew what it meant.

  “The LIDAR has picked up a threat!” Aldous stated, alarmed.

  “It has to be a mistake,” Samantha quickly cautioned.

  “I designed the warning system with the A.I. myself. There’s no such thing as a false alarm.”

  “You are correct, Professor Gibson,” the A.I. broke in, his image appearing in both of their minds’ eyes as he, too, reacted to the proximity warning. “I’ve evaluated the information, Professor Gibson, and I’m afraid the Purist government has discovered our location,” he informed them emotionlessly. “There’s a hostile armada headed our way.”

  6

  “What are you talking about?” Craig asked, stunned. “Hostile armada?”

  “Affirmative,” the A.I. replied. “I’m already processing images of hundreds of airships. The Purists appear to be intent on eliminating the post-humans with this strike.”

  “Can’t you fight?” Craig responded. “You’ve got unlimited power! You said so yourself!”

  “We have no weapons,” Aldous suddenly interjected, cutting into their conversation, his visage appearing in Craig’s mind’s eye.

  Craig suddenly felt the urge to gouge out his own eyes. “You,” he whispered, his mouth twisting with vitriol.

  “We’re researchers,” Aldous continued. “We save lives. We don’t take them.”

  “Where is he?” Craig asked the A.I. in a low voice.

  “Headed toward us,” the A.I. replied. “He should be here in seven seconds.”

  “Terrific,” Craig replied as he quickly jogged to the door of the room, his right hand balled into a tight fist.

  “Craig,” the A.I. reacted as he processed the image of the fist and the threatening stance Craig had taken, “you don’t intend to strike Aldous, do you?”

  “Absolutely...as hard as I can,” Craig replied, his teeth clenching.

  The door slid open, and as soon as Aldous took a step inward, Craig punched him, as promised, as hard as he could across the jaw. The blow drove Aldous back out the door and sent him stumbling off of his feet, onto his back.

  Samantha had been only a few steps behind him, so she was quick to see the results of the vengeful attack. She turned to him, disgusted, before dropping to her knees to cradle Aldous into a sitting position. “You had no right to do that,” she snapped, holding back her anger and hurt the best she could.

  “Like hell,” Craig replied, the corner of his lip curled atavistically. “The two of you disgust me.”

  Her expression suddenly filled with so much hurt that Craig nearly felt shame for what he’d done. “This man brought you back, Craig! This man saved your life! Don’t you see that?”

  Aldous shook himself free from his wife and got to his feet. “Enough of this!” he shouted as he brushed past Craig and entered the room. “You can sort out your personal problems later! Right now, we’ve got lives to save!” He turned to the A.I. “We need to preserve you. That’s our number one priority. Nothing matters as much as that. Do you understand me?”

  “I do,” the A.I. replied, “but that runs contrary to the primary objective of my life—to put every other life above mine.”

  “You won’t be able to do that if they destroy you!” Aldous countered. “Are we clear? You must survive!”

  “We are clear,” the
A.I. answered.

  “Good. How much time do we have?”

  “Nine minutes and seventeen seconds at their current velocity and trajectory. Their aircraft are equipped with all the latest stealth technology, so it is reasonable to conjecture that they don’t know we’ve detected them already. That is an important advantage.”

  “Not much, if you’ve only got nine minutes,” Craig cut in, momentarily putting his feud with Aldous on hold. “What kind of counterattack can you put together with so little time?”

  “The counterattack isn’t our priority,” Aldous replied. He turned to the three figures with whom he shared the room. “The priority is that we get the three of you out of here safely before the attack arrives.”

  7

  The soft glow of information flashing across Aldous’s eyes indicated that he had flipped open his mind’s eye once again. This time, he opened up a link to everyone in the facility. “Attention! As you already know, the world government has amassed an attack force, and they are headed this way. Each of you has a choice. You can either flee—in which case you will undoubtedly be tracked until you disengage your cocoon and flight systems—or you can remain here and take your chances. You take a risk either way. I won’t advise a course of action, but I will remain here to help protect those who choose to face the Purists, come what may. If you plan to stay, meet me at the main entrance, where we will work to facilitate the escape of those who choose to flee. Hurry!”

  “Aldous,” Samantha began, grasping tightly onto his bicep, “you can’t do this. They’ll kill you!”

  “Everyone in this facility is here because of me, Sam—every single one of them, including you. I won’t abandon them to save myself.”

  “But you’ll abandon me?” she exclaimed, shocked.

  “I’ll save you,” he responded, trying to be soft while also cognizant of their rapidly dwindling time. “I won’t see you die. But I need you to do one last thing for me.” He gestured to the holographic figure a few paces away. “I need you to protect the A.I.’s mother program. I need you to upload him into your brain, and I need you to escape.”