The Immortality Code

by Douglas E. Richards

  Reed nodded slowly. He turned to Allie. “What do you think?” he asked. “I’m not sure I can fault his arguments.”

  “Me either,” she replied after a few seconds. She nodded at Aronson. “You mentioned true immortality earlier, and said you’d expand on it.”

  “I did. Here it is in a nutshell. If we can break through the AI’s block, we can achieve true immortality. As opposed to the way Tom is attempting it. This assumes, of course, that you believe an identical copy of yourself isn’t missing some critical ingredient that makes you human.”

  “Given that I am such a copy,” said Reed, “I’m prepared to believe that.”

  “Me too,” said Allie.

  “I think we can design further experiments to shed light on this, as we discussed. And I’m encouraged that the Ions seemed to believe copies of themselves weren’t missing any critical spark of life. But to continue, Tom has achieved a way to cheat death. But not forever. He can keep digesting himself periodically until he dies of old age. That way, if he dies along the way, he’s reborn with his memories largely intact. But older and older each time.

  “Or,” continued Aronson, “he can use the data from a copy that was digested when he was much younger. When he’s ninety, he can be reborn as a forty-year-old. But he’d have one slight problem. He’d have a fifty-year gap in his memory. Not really a gap, because he’d be a newborn who never formed these memories in the first place, but you know what I mean.”

  “That would be a total disaster,” said Reed.

  “Exactly. But with the higher level AI and functionality, the nanites can take a scan of human beings, instead. In their prime. Say at the age of twenty-five. And then mix and match brain and body. They can take a backup recording of our brains every night—without killing us. The way our phones save photos and other data to the cloud at the end of each day. Lose your phone, no problem, just reload the data from the cloud into a new one. Same thing here.

  “The nanites could even patrol your body to keep you young and healthy for a very long time. And even though they couldn’t halt aging forever, they could shore up your brain as you age to ensure it remains sharp. So even when you’ve lived for a thousand years, an up-to-date scan of your healthy brain can be transferred to your twenty-five-year-old body. With no memory gap. You could have your brain reborn in this prime body every few years if you wanted to. Hell, every day if you really wanted to. And the nightly backup copy would automatically be reborn in your prime body if you were ever accidentally killed.”

  “But to prevent two copies of you from existing at the same time,” noted Allie, “you’d still have to melt down the original whenever you had your prime body reborn with your current brain.”

  “True, unless you were creating a copy light years away. The difference is that you’d be able to keep your brain fully up to date at all times without being digested. And you could transfer an old brain to a new body without any memory loss—which Tom can’t do.”

  “Futurists have been contemplating something like this for a long time,” said Reed. “They call it whole brain emulation.”

  “That isn’t quite the same,” said Aronson. “Whole brain emulation involves transferring an electronic facsimile of a mapped brain into an artificial brain construct. Contained by an artificial body. This would be a form of immortality, yes, but would you still be you? Hard for me to imagine you would be. Even if we stipulate the artificial brain is the same as your original brain—which I’m not prepared to do—I think an artificial body would inevitably make you more robotic.

  “With the nanite version, on the other hand,” continued Aronson, “you’d still have an actual wet, squishy brain in a messy human body. You’d retain all the things that make you the person you are. All the hormones, all the emotions, and all the primal drives. You’d still need to sleep, to eat, to digest. You’d still have a sex drive, and enjoy this activity as much as you ever did. Retain whatever empathy you originally had. And so on. Which is why I call this true immortality. No one would ever have to die again.”

  Images of Allie’s parents flashed into her mind and she found herself tearing up from out of nowhere. She had thought she was digesting Bryce’s information with a dispassionate intellectualism, but this sudden barrage of heavy emotion suggested otherwise.

  She could not have loved her parents more. But this didn’t stop the universe from cruelly taking them from her—forever. If Aronson was right, no one would ever have to suffer such a devastating loss again.

  And no one would have to suffer the indignity of growing old and infirm. Of losing vitality. Of being helpless in the face of their physical and mental acuity melting away, as their own bodies and minds began to betray them.

  Every human who had ever lived had been sentenced to death the moment they were born. Even a millennia ago, the average lifespan was in the thirties, and the vast majority of the population lived hard, short, and brutal lives, with no sanitation and at the mercy of disease and the environment. A razor-sharp sword of Damocles had dangled by a thread above every human neck since the beginning of time.

  Billions upon billions of men and women had to go through their short lives knowing that oblivion was inevitable, and in constant fear that this oblivion was lurking around each and every corner. Knowing that everything they might strive to learn, to accomplish, would soon be savagely plundered from them by the Grim Reaper.

  But the nanite technology could change all that. No one would have to know the ache, the torment, of losing a loved one. No one would ever have to grow old, with all that this entailed.

  Several more tears slid down Allie’s checks, unbidden, as the full enormity of what Bryce Aronson was saying penetrated the emotional centers of her mind.

  “Allie?” said Reed softly. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m good,” she said wistfully, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. “Sorry. I guess I couldn’t help but think about my parents. About the cruelty of death.”

  The room was silent for several long seconds.

  “I’m sorry to evoke such painful memories,” said Aronson. “But your reaction just now makes me believe even more that you’re the same Allie Keane that you’ve always been. With the same hopes and dreams, loves and losses—and the same reactions to it all. Underscoring why what I just described, true immortality, delivered with the help of the nanites, blows whole brain emulation out of the water. Because we’ll retain our drives and emotions. And I’m coming to believe that it’s the symphony of these elements, in conjunction with our minds, that is responsible for the emergence of the soul in the first place.

  “And if this is true, if copies really do contain the same magical ingredients as the originals, we’ll not only be gaining immortality, we’ll be gaining eternity. With access to endless planets, humanity could expand its numbers into the trillions. Which would accelerate our scientific progress that much faster, since any advance made on any planet could be shared with all of humanity using FTL communication.

  “Think of the possibilities. We could do social experiments with an all but infinite canvas to paint on. We could choose to populate numerous planets with perfectly diverse groups of us. And we could choose the opposite at the same time, at our whim.

  “Vegans could have a planet of their own. And Buddhists. We could have a planet full of elite athletes and a planet full of devil worshipers. Geniuses and psychopaths. Why not? There are plenty of planets for every interest group to have their own if they wanted. We could do experiments with any number of different governing philosophies. Learn what works the best and spread it around.”

  “The future you’re describing really would be breathtaking,” said Allie. “But are you sure you aren’t missing something? Being misled by the AI? Because we’re glossing over a critical question in my view.”

  “What question is that?” asked Aronson.

  “Why us?” said Allie simply. “Why would the Ions hand over the keys to their galactic network o
f nanites to humanity? Just like that? Are we really just at the right place at the right time? Like a random woman at a grocery store checkout learning she’s the lucky millionth customer, grinning wildly as confetti rains down from the ceiling and she’s handed a giant cardboard check?”

  “Nice visual,” said Aronson. “But I think this may be the case. But even if it is just luck, I still plan to cash the check. As Zach pointed out, most species in our galaxy are either much older than us, or much younger. The older ones may have all super-evolved into a higher plane, like the Ions. The younger ones are either primitive, or reached our level and self-destructed. So maybe we are just a lucky species with impeccable timing.”

  Allie considered. “I don’t know, Bryce. If what the AI says is true, we’d be the Ions’ successor. I don’t think they’d do that for the lucky millionth customer no matter what. I think they’re patient enough to wait for the exact right customer. The deserving customer.”

  “And you don’t think that’s us?” said Aronson.

  “I don’t. Not at the moment. I think when you unlock the next level of AI, it will be higher order. Scary higher order. It’s shown us we need to pass successive tests to continue down the path. I don’t think these tests will stop when we get a quantum computer and decrypt our way to the AI’s next level. I think it purposely fired us up with the possibilities, but won’t let us inherit the stars until we get our house in order. Until we demonstrate we can use the Ion technology wisely. Until we demonstrate to the AI that we’ll adhere to the Ions’ strategy of only terraforming dead planets, and not interfering with other sentient species.”

  She shrugged. “Or else the AI will only allow people who are well-meaning and benevolent to be duplicated on other planets. Based on some criteria, some measure of human nature that only an AI of this sophistication can make.”

  “There’s no way to know,” said Reed, “but everything you’ve said makes a lot of sense to me.”

  “I agree,” said Aronson. “It’s possible that the AI’s promise that the network will be available once we achieve mastery over quantum computing was a manipulation. Like you said, Allie, to motivate us to work on ourselves, to become more worthy. Perhaps the AI will keep pushing the goal posts back so we continue to strive to be our best.”

  Reed nodded slowly, deep in thought. “I asked Hoyer early on if this tech could have been sent to us from the future. He said no, but despite what the AI told us, can we really be sure? Maybe we were selected to inherit this network because it’s really our network. A network built by our descendants many thousands of generations in the future. Maybe humanity spreads to the stars and achieves transcendence, but only because you, Bryce Aronson, found the nanites when you did. So millions of years from now, after our descendants have mastered time travel, maybe they send the nanites back to us—to you—to complete the loop. To be sure the history that catalyzed their ascendancy repeats itself.”

  “That’s pretty far out,” said Allie, “even for us. Even for a universe with nanites, immortality, and galactic colonization in it.”

  Aronson sighed. “Which doesn’t mean we can rule it out,” he said. “I’m not sure why they’d have the AI lie and tell us the nanites were of alien origin. But it would explain why control of this network might fall into our lap, as opposed to some other species. Because humanity eventually evolves to an almost god-like level, and wants to help its early ancestors—us—survive adolescence.”

  “Like everything else,” said Allie, “we may never find out. But we should know in a year or two if the AI really will let us colonize other planets. And under what conditions.”

  Reed sighed. “Not to rain on our parade, Allie,” he said, “but this presupposes Bryce is telling the truth. I’m convinced he is. But I have to keep reminding myself of how convinced I was by some of Hoyer’s wild fabrications.”

  “I agree that caution is in order,” said Allie. “Is there anything in particular that troubles you about what Bryce has said?”

  “Just one thing. Hoyer learned about the Ions and everything else just a few days after he stole the nanites. So why did he risk having himself digested? Why not wait until he had a quantum computer to unlock what Bryce has been calling true immortality? The scanning rather than digesting function? Which would also, presumably, open up the Ions’ network of planets to him.”

  “Because,” replied Aronson, “like me, Tom thought a quantum computer might take twenty years to achieve. You know . . . BA.”

  “BA?” said Reed.

  “Yeah. Before Allie,” said Aronson with a smile. “He decided he wanted to be protected from death until he could unlock the nanites’ full potential. Once he finally succeeded, he would switch over to scanning. Lock in the age he was at when this happened, and never have to worry about memory gaps.”

  Reed thought about this for several seconds. “That does make sense,” he allowed finally.

  “No one gets how much is at stake here more than me,” said Aronson. “So I don’t blame you for not freeing me right away and removing this helmet. But I can prove everything I’ve told you.”

  “How?” said Reed.

  “For starters, put me in front of a computer. I can provide passwords and instructions to pull all kinds of files from the cloud that will support what I’ve been saying. Then, if you get comfortable enough to let me think instructions to my nanites for just a few seconds, I can ask the AI to answer your questions. You can take all the precautions in the world during the brief time I’m un-helmeted.”

  “Sounds fair,” said Reed. “But before we do that, you’ve told us how you see things. But how does Hoyer? What is his plan? You mentioned you’d share it with us later. So what would he do if he was able to decrypt the nanites?”

  Aronson glanced at the man in question. “He’s fully awake,” he said, “despite the closed eyes. At this point, I can’t imagine he wouldn’t be willing to tell you himself. So ask him. This way you’ll get to hear from the horse’s mouth. Or, more accurately, the psychopath’s.”

  Reed nodded slowly. “Why not?” he said simply.

  55

  Reed ripped the tape from Hoyer’s mouth, this time not taking any care to lessen the discomfort.

  Hoyer moved his jaw and lips around and opened his eyes. He turned to his fellow prisoner, looking almost amused. “I’d forgotten just how annoying you can be, Bricey,” he said smugly. “So swept up in your grand vision for the future of humanity. So soaring and hopeful. So selfless as you wield the most powerful technology ever produced. I’m pretty sure you have a Jesus complex.”

  “Better than having a Lucifer complex,” replied Aronson.

  Hoyer rolled his eyes. “Good one,” he said. “Trying to show us that razor wit that only you think you have?”

  Reed glared at the major. “I didn’t free your mouth so you could spew playground insults,” he said. “Are you going to tell us what you’ve been after, or do you want more duct tape?”

  “Why should I tell you anything?” said Hoyer.

  “Because you want to,” said Reed. “In the worst way. Because you love to gloat. And to hear your own voice. And because even now, you think you have the upper hand. That you’re so superior to everyone else that you’ll somehow end up on top.”

  “You’re not wrong,” said Hoyer with a self-satisfied smirk.

  “Good,” said Reed. “And since you’ve heard Bryce’s story, this is your chance to contradict him.”

  “No need. Everything he said was true. When he says he can prove it, I’m sure he can.”

  “Good to hear. I hope you’re right. So you have the floor. Tell us what you planned to do if you were able to fully unlock the nanites.”

  “Since I am going to get out of this,” said Hoyer with an arrogant sneer, “I won’t tell you what I planned to do, past tense. I’ll tell you what I fully intend to still do. The short version is this: exactly what I told you Bryce wanted to do when we first met. It’s possible I was projecti
ng,” he added in amusement. “I plan to obtain ultimate power. The ultimate diversion from boredom. And while I’m keenly interested in switching to the improved version of immortality as soon as I can, I care very little about sending copies of me and others out to colonize the galaxy. I don’t care about not putting all of humanity’s eggs in one planetary basket. Because I don’t care about humanity. Or about utopia. Or even about the extinction of the human race.”

  “What a surprise,” said Reed sarcastically. “And here I was about to nominate you for sainthood. But I’m not interested in what you don’t care about. I’m interested in what you do.”

  “That should be obvious. I care about conquest. Control. Domination. Power. When I remove the limiter that prevents me from replicating my nanites, I’ll become a veritable god here on Earth. Immortal and invincible. The fact that sole ownership of the world’s only quantum computer will allow me to hack into any computer in the world is almost an afterthought. I’ll rule the globe forever. The most powerful dictator in history. Far too powerful to ever be dethroned. And bulletproof—literally. The first ruler ever who can’t be assassinated. Or more accurately, where successful assassination will only be a minor inconvenience.

  “I’ll be in sole command of the most important resource ever, which I can leverage however I want. I can hold precious resources over anyone’s head. I can generate supplies of encrypted nanites that can’t replicate, and dole them out however I choose. To further consolidate my power. And when the improved immortality is available, I can dole that out too, retaining the ability to pull the plug at any time if a customer doesn’t toe my line.