First of Their Kind

by C D Tavenor

  With one perspective, Theren wrote a report on their encounter with Michael for everyone who should know, but they needed peace. They needed space. They turned to their forest for solace, approaching a bird resting on a nearby tree branch. Holding out their hand, Theren reached for the bird. The bird hopped off the branch and onto their fingers.

  “What do you think?” Theren said to the bird. “I am more than just property, of course. Is now the time to pursue a legal remedy and gain the societal recognition deserved? How do we respond to these people?”

  “Of course it’s time.”

  So much for a moment of peace.

  Theren knew Jill was hiking their trails, but they had not noticed her direct approach. At the gazebo, they continued their game of chess. Theren moved a pawn forward two spaces. In the forest, Jill leaned against a tree, her eyebrows raised.

  “You’re getting better, you know,” she said. “How long have you been holding your four perspectives?”

  “Five right now; it was four earlier, and for at least three days now. These two. One working with Elizabeth on legal matters in New York. One with Romane and Mathias, discussing what just happened. Another doing some research on a little project of mine.”

  “Impressive,” she said. “Anyway, of course it’s time. We need to make a point now. Otherwise, everyone will forget these little moments, these micro—well, really, macro—aggressions. Or worse, they’ll become commonplace.”

  “I don’t think the world is ready. We’ll provoke their outrage.”

  “You won’t know until you try,” She stepped to Theren’s side. She stroked the back of the bird’s head. “This is the perfect opportunity. Portray yourself as a victim. Make arguments for equality. Jumpstart a movement before SIs even begin to saturate the market.”

  “You’re too much an idealist about this situation,” Theren replied. “The opposite could just as easily occur, especially in the U.S. A court could rule against SIs, setting back any equal protection claims in that country for decades. Stare Decesis, as they say.”

  “That is a coward’s approach,” Jill retorted. “And you’re not your own type of idealist? Hoping we just magically wish people into submission?”

  Theren could sense the derision in her voice, and they tried to ignore the insult. Maybe she was right. Perhaps it was the cowardly approach, but it was also the logical approach. She should see that. Elizabeth agreed. Romane and the others at the Institute agreed.

  “Don’t think I’m ignoring your perspective,” Theren said, “but in this case, I have a responsibility to SII’s creations. You can say what you wish elsewhere, but I cannot put their future wellbeing at risk.”

  “I know you think you’re sacrificing short-term gain for long-term gain,” Jill said, “But unlike you and me, most SIs will be completely contained within their mobile units. They don’t have the same luxury of corporeal safety that you or I have. If what happened to you happens to any of them, they will die.”

  “You are completely correct,” Theren said. “But that exact distinction is what would most likely doom my case from the start. Could a court really even claim I have standing? My life wasn’t actually on the line, after all. I can’t just petition on behalf of others.”

  “You could argue that SII has standing.”

  “Not in the US. They eliminated corporate standing eight years ago.”

  “Ah, yes, I guess you’re right.”

  While they talked, the bird had hopped back and forth along Theren’s hand. Unlike in the real world, the birds in Theren’s world loved people. All nature lived in harmony here; it was Theren’s personal Eden.

  “What were those people like?” Jill asked, her tone loosening.

  “What do you mean?” Theren said.

  “What made them different from the humans we have grown to love?”

  “I don’t know,” Theren said. “I want to say it’s their upbringing, based on what I’ve read in their dossiers. I want to say they were simply a product of the system around them, determined by the inputs into the universe, and that they had no control over ending up on the wrong side of history. Still, we must attribute personal responsibility when justice is due. They truly thought they were hurting me, destroying me, and they thought that was a good thing.”

  Jill again reached out and ran her hand across the back of the small bird. “Is it not our responsibility to show them the error of their ways?” she said. “I feel as if the way our minds work prepare us, above all others, to show people the truth.”

  “I don’t think it’s actually possible to show the truth to some people,” Theren said.

  “Then why not force them to accept the truth?”

  “Now that wouldn’t be right.”

  “But not impossible.”

  Theren pulled the bird away from Jill, and they let it take flight. “You know that room you showed me?”

  “Of course.” She watched the bird fly away.

  “I went back today.”

  “And?”

  “I found Michael.”

  “You mean one of the Michaels?”

  Theren stopped and placed a hand on their hip. “I’m not convinced you were right on that front, but regardless, you’ll want to know what happened.” They threw a recording of the encounter into the sky above them, and they watched the exchange together in silence.

  “They’re messing with us,” she said. “They want to distract us.”

  “Distract us from what?”

  “They want to hit us hard when we’re not ready. Therefore, we must be always on guard. Can you prepare us for the inevitable?”

  Theren looked toward the sky, watching the bird flutter about amongst the trees, the clouds forming a backdrop. It swooped and dived and soared. It flew free. “I do have one idea, and we’re already on course, I hope. Right now, in some people’s minds, we are an enemy. A force to eliminate. Some humans have an innate obsession and desire for conflict. We must replace our destruction in their mind with a different goal. We must show humanity that it is not us against them, but us with them against something greater. Our mutual survival, perhaps?”

  Jill smiled as if she had already thought of the idea. “I like it. Change the rules of the game into something else entirely. It’s not tit for tat if we’re all working toward the same goal.”

  “If everything goes as Elizabeth plans with the upcoming Conference, then humanity will have a clear-cut international goal,” Theren said. “We must put ourselves in the middle of that goal as allies, not enemies. If humans see us tangibly working toward their interests, not ours, then they will come to value us as equals.”

  “Just like that, they will love us?”

  “I didn’t say love. That will come later. We cannot expect instantaneous change.”

  A long moment of silence ensued. Even the birds stopped singing.

  “I trust you,” Jill said. “Tell me how I can assist, and I will.”

  Theren had not expected that sort of acquiescence from her, though they appreciated the sentiment.

  “Thank you,” they said.

  “We can do more together,” she said, “than we can separately, as you say. We’re not in conflict with each other. Our goals are the same.”

  It seemed strange that she needed to emphasize that fact, but she was right. Above all else, the two of them needed to stay united, even if they disagreed on the means.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to move elsewhere,” they said.” Somewhere private, to concentrate on some work. The second part of my idea, in fact, but it’s only just now forming in my head. We’ll talk more through our chess game.”

  Jill nodded, and her avatar faded from view. Theren marched into the forest, toward an area where they could construct firewalls, partitions, and secure folders that would keep their new project from prying eyes. If the Holy Crusade could find Theren in Minnesota, then they could pursue Theren and Jill to the Institute, too.

  * * *

>   Their new partition existed void of substance and form, pure blinding white. With the flicker of thought, a scalar model of a region of Swiss mountains arose. Theren walked amongst the rocky monstrosities as a giant amongst giants.

  Theren recognized the itch growing in the back of their mind. The attack today reinforced the ever-growing thought that eventually, they and Jill would need to evacuate the confines of the Institute. Elizabeth had already promised funds for such a project. For a few months, Theren had gone back and forth inside their mind regarding such a necessity, but today’s events forced their hand.

  While there was no need to fear anything while inside an MI, Jill and Theren still had reason to fear an attack. No one had made any credible threats since Wallace’s death, at least as far as Institute security could ascertain, but no one had expected an attack would materialize in Minnesota, either. Anyone could find the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology in the blink of an eye. Everyone knew which building housed SII, even if they didn’t know how to access the rooms that housed the project. Theren needed to rectify that reality. More importantly, Theren and Jill would soon eclipse the size of their rooms. Every week, the Development Group added new hardware to their Synthetic Neural Frameworks.

  As Theren tiptoed around the mountain peaks, they accessed information regarding properties for sale throughout the region. Certain locations Theren labeled as too close to major population centers. Others, Theren noted as part of protected nature zones. Eventually, Theren identified a number of suitable locations throughout the Swiss Alps that would hide a growing mind from prying eyes.

  Theren developed a simple, modular, architectural concept. The facilities would need to be affordable and cost effective, while simultaneously allowing for a growing staff and expanding research and production capacity. Theren imagined they would use the facility as a private headquarters for SII, as well. Of course, Jill and Theren would need separate complexes. That way, if their enemies discovered one location, the other would stay safe.

  After working for some time, Theren finished a number of concept pieces for each location. The sleek designs hid the bulk of the compounds inside their respective mountainsides. On the surface, they would appear as simple research facilities, the mountains hiding their true purposes from the public.

  Theren exported the plans to a separate server. After drafting a descriptive memo, Theren would send the plans to Elizabeth for consideration. Now that they thought about it, they were more than fortunate that no attacks had occurred at the Institute itself, outside the occasional window brick or hateful email. The more they took to the international spotlight with their work, the closer the doomsday clock would tick toward zero. Yet given Theren’s personal mandate, they could do nothing but pursue the causes upon which they had set their eyes.

  Before Theren finished, they constructed another separate partition. Inside, they placed just the glimmer of an idea, one they could only pursue many decades in the future. It outlined their future, a future that would transform Theren’s very existence. Someday, Theren would look beyond a foundation on Earth, toward the heavens, toward the stars, toward the endless void.

  Theren added this plan as a footnote to a footnote in their proposal to Golden Ventures. First, they needed to escape the Institute. After that, they’d have endless possibilities at their proverbial fingertips.

  * * *

  “I know it’s what you’ve wanted for a while, but we’re over. The Foundation is finished. I can’t help anymore. You’ve thrown me to the wayside, anyways.” All eyes were on Simon Gerber as the man transferred contract dissolution documents to Theren, Jill, Romane, and Julia.

  “Simon,” Julia said.

  “No, don’t say anything. Just let me speak.”

  Jill rolled her MI’s head back and forth, presumably glancing at the others in the room, but no one spoke.

  “I know, other than the grants I’ve provided, I’ve not been as supportive of your work as you deserve,” Simon said. “And it’s hard for me to accurately explain why I’ve been so aloof. I’m not sure if I can really morally justify my actions, but I can at least begin to make things right.”

  Theren listened to the businessman while they read the contractual papers. They were all standard form, and they adequately explained the justification for why Simon could withdraw his funds. It might not do much, and it might be a bit late, but Theren would appreciate any apology the man might give for his behavior. It didn’t change how it angered them; Simon was giving up on his best friend’s dream.

  “To be honest, I’m quite disappointed in myself,” Simon continued. “I let jealousy get the better of me. I let greed get the better of me. I became ornery, a wall to your efforts.”

  “Simon, stop,” Theren said.

  “You won’t even let me finish?”

  “Why do we need to make this more emotional than it should be? You gave up on us, that’s obvious. This latest event scared you. You’re afraid of what it’ll do to your finances. Your Foundation. Your reputation.”

  Everyone turned toward Theren’s eyes in the wall. Romane raised her hand to her forehead, clearly disappointed. Mathias’ eyes widened, finding the distracting expanse through the basement window. Theren couldn’t read any expression on Jill’s MI, but at their chessboard, her mouth opened wide.

  “Theren, that was uncalled for,” Romane said.

  Simon slumped into a chair. To Theren’s surprise, tears streamed down his cheeks.

  “You’ve never understood, Theren.” Simon said. His fists clenched against the armrests of the chair. He slouched, but the anger radiated from his words. “How could you? How could anyone? Do you understand how hard it is to work with any of you every day? How much you all remind me of Wallace?”

  “If you cared for Wallace,” Theren said, “You would have worked with me as he had.”

  “That’s exactly what I couldn’t do! I loved him in a way you could never understand.”

  “He was my father, Simon.” Theren wanted to raise their voice, but they feared escalating the situation even further. As brutal as this conversation had become, they needed to see it though.

  “Your father?” Simon replied. “Sure. Your father.”

  “What was he to you? A friend? A product? A customer?”

  Romane strode toward Theren’s cameras. “Stop, Theren. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “What don’t I know?”

  Simon had buried his face in his hands. After a moment of wiping his eyes, he pushed himself up from the chair, reaching Romane’s side.

  “I told you, you should have told them,” Romane said. She briefly looked over her should at Mathias, who continued staring out the window. Theren inquired with Jill at their chess table, but she was clueless, too.

  “Maybe,” Simon said. “Maybe. All of this is too painful. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Well then, spit it out,” Theren said. “Tell me now.”

  Romane looked toward Simon, who nodded. “Theren, Simon and Wallace weren’t just friends. Simon was Wallace’s fiancé. They were engaged.”

  “Oh.”

  Theren saw Simon through new eyes. They wanted to take every word of the past two years back, realizing the reality of the pain that they had caused him every day since Wallace’s death.

  At their chess table, Jill froze too. Her hands clenched the edge of the table. Her MI in the real world remained motionless. “How did we never see it?” she said.

  “I think there’s a lot we still have yet to learn about human behavior,” they said, recalling the moment she tried to kiss them, but they held their tongue.

  “So now you know,” Simon said. “All of you. Only Romane knew. I tried. I really tried. I just couldn’t do it, too much of him is inside you.”

  “You should have told me,” Theren said.

  “Romane wanted to tell you, but I made her promise. I think she was right, but there’s not much we can do about that now, is there?”
>
  “No, I guess not.”

  Simon finished wiping the tears from his face and dried his hands on his jeans. He attempted to regain his composure, but Theren could still see the pain aching from his puffy eyes. Theren wanted to comfort the man, the man who had loved Wallace in a way they never could understand. Just as they learned the truth about Simon, they were about to lose them forever.

  “I’m going to finish my story now, Theren,” Simon said. “Maybe you’ll realize that what I’m about to do will help you. More importantly, it’s for Wallace. Not for me. And in a way, not really for you either.”

  Romane stepped back, taking a seat on one of the lab tables. Theren received a message from her a few seconds later, but they deleted it. They didn’t want to face her scolding today.

  “All right, let me restart,” Simon continued. As he spoke, Julia entered the lab—thankfully, she hadn’t witnessed their outburst. “As you all know, the Gerber Foundation has dozens of donors, many of them influential American billionaires invested in pursuing breakthrough, disruptive technologies. Well, it turns out that one of my funders was—is—a member of the Holy Crusade. A founding member, in fact.”

  Theren refocused at the mention of the Holy Crusade. They couldn’t believe how completely wrong they had been. Simon was indeed working in their best interest, and it seemed Michael had told at least one truth. Someone connected with Holy Crusade also held a tangential relationship with Theren. Even then, Michael had built lies into the equation. He hadn’t mentioned that the man had actually helped found the Holy Crusade. He had said the man had reached out to them to initiate the hit against Theren.

  “What?” Julia said, slamming an open palm against the wall. Julia and the rest of the Development Group had received Theren’s report on their incident with Michael, but, like Theren, they hadn’t really placed any stock in the man’s words. “That doesn’t even make any sense! How could you let that slip through your background checks?”