Post-Human 05 - Inhuman

by David Simpson

  “1, I presume,” Aldous said as he crossed confidently to the woman, passing underneath the circular chandelier that burned incandescent light bulbs, bathing the room in a pleasing, if also impractical and opulent hue. He stood near a leather armchair adjacent to the couch, waiting for an invitation to sit, but the invitation didn’t come.

  “You are presumptuous,” she replied. “That is accurate.”

  Her facial expression was difficult for Aldous to read. He felt sure he was in the presence of 1, but the woman didn’t look anything like the android they’d witnessed die at the hands of James. Her hair was short and dark and her outfit was dark and nondescript, perfectly blending with the android company she was keeping. Yet there was something about her that Aldous felt was recognizably 1. There was something in her countenance that screamed deception, screamed manipulation, and screamed danger.

  Aldous persevered and took the seat anyway. “Presumptuousness is a defining character trait,” he responded, “but I have the feeling you knew that already.”

  The woman appeared annoyed, yet patient as she replied, “I know quite a lot, yet the more I learn, the more I realize I don’t know. I can tell that you believe you know a great deal, yet you seem self-satisfied by this knowledge. An odd reaction, to say the least.” She leaned forward. “Satisfaction shouldn’t be what you feel.” Her tone quickly became icy. “Rather, you should feel absolutely terrified by what you know.”

  Aldous’s ego was suddenly bruised, and he felt shamed. She was right.

  “Why don’t you stop being coy,” she continued, sitting back, “and tell me what you think you know. But first,” she changed gears, her scrutinizing eyes leaving Aldous and traveling to one of the androids that stood nearby. “Get him a drink, will you?” She turned back to the chief. “What’s your poison?”

  “Now who’s being coy?” Aldous asked. “You’ve met me before, I’m quite sure. You should know my drink by now.”

  The woman scoffed. “Afraid not. What’s your drink, Chief?”

  Aldous tilted his head as he considered her words. Could I be wrong? he asked himself. “A dark beer,” he replied. “It’s already in the replicator.”

  “A stout?” the woman replied, her eyebrow raised in surprise. “I took you for more of a chardonnay fellow.”

  Old-timer found himself equally surprised as he watched the memory. Chardonnay sounded about right.

  “Well,” Aldous began to retort before holding his palm out as though it revealed the answer, “the more you learn…”

  “Indeed,” the woman replied as the android returned, holding the chief’s freshly replicated glass of beer. He handed it to the chief as the woman continued to scrutinize Aldous. “Now, tell me what you know.”

  Aldous took a small sip of beer, enjoying the taste of the roasted malts and creamy mouthfeel, savoring it as he didn’t know if there’d ever be another in his future, before he put it, along with all of his cards, on the table. “Well, I know you’re 1. I know the androids haven’t truly been in a battle with the nanobots throughout the universe—rather, you’ve been in a battle with nanobot-created computers throughout the multiverse, and it’s a battle you’re losing…badly. You’re assimilating humans because you’re caught in an impossible race against these computers, which take the very form that the super computer my A.I. and James Keats just activated did: black holes. These black hole computers are springing up across the multiverse, and in every single instance where they spring up, they cause the universe that birthed them to collapse.” Aldous paused for a moment and looked deeply into the eyes of the android he believed to be 1, flipping the tables on her as he scrutinized her reaction. She didn’t appear surprised. He continued. “I’ve successfully kept James and the rest of humanity in this universe in the dark regarding the multiverse, which is why James doesn’t yet suspect that you’re still alive. He eventually will, however, but we’ll be able to use his current ignorance to our advantage.”

  Old-timer was stunned by the callowness of, not only Aldous’s words, but of his tone.

  The woman smiled faintly and folded her arms across her chest. “Chief Gibson,” she began, her tone impressed, yet playfully chastising, “however did you manage to keep an intellect such as James Keats in the dark for so long?”

  Aldous straightened his shirt as he began his reply, not relishing in the manipulation that had gone on for decades. “James has certain…character defects that can be exploited.” He sighed. “He’s the greatest natural human intellect to ever live, of that I’m sure, yet he has an almost childlike belief in…” he paused as he considered the absurdity of his next word, “…goodness.”

  The woman pouted her lip into an expression of piqued interest.

  “I knew I could count on that naïveté when I considered how to find you,” Aldous continued. “James could easily have kept track of every android who defected, but that would go against his unrealistic views regarding individual freedom. If he monitored the androids, as any rational person in his position would do, he’d view himself to be a hypocrite, having vanquished one dictator only to set himself up as a new dictator in her place. And James Keats will never knowingly allow himself to be guilty of hypocrisy.” He nearly scoffed as he continued, “The man can manipulate gravity waves and detect ripples in space-time, but all you had to do was slip by him with your cover forces,” he gestured to the rest of the androids that populated the room, “and voilà. Bob’s your uncle.”

  “How do you know he’s not monitoring you now?” the woman asked. “This could be a mole hunt. Your actions are treasonous.”

  Aldous smiled as he considered the idea. “I almost wish it were true.” He looked up at the woman. “If he was capable of wisdom like that…of prudent caution…” he paused and shook his head as he thought of the burden he believed that he alone carried, “then this conversation wouldn’t be necessary. We’d just tell him what we know, he’d decide against turning the Trans-human computer back on, and we’d have a valuable ally in a war against the black hole computers. But as you know, that’s not how James will react. He has an intractable belief in the goodness of knowledge, and doesn’t realize that the ultimate result of unlimited computing power is a universe-destroying god.”

  “We call them infinity computers,” she informed him, the first confirmation that she did, indeed, know what he was talking about. Then the woman turned to the android attendant. “Bring me another one of what he’s having.”

  Aldous’s eyebrows knitted together. “You drink?”

  “Of course,” she responded. “Our bodies are designed so that we don’t have to give up any of the pleasures that make life worth living—and saving.”

  “Well,” Aldous reacted, impressed, “the more I learn…”

  “Now, Aldous,” the woman began as she switched which leg crossed over which and shifted in her seat, her body language suggesting she was ready to get down to business. “You’ve clearly been waiting for us for all these years. I can imagine it was rather difficult for you when you learned the terrible truth to which you’re privy, but what are we to do now? Your A.I. and James have us cordoned off from the solar system, and, as you said, they won’t listen to reason. So, other than an interesting yarn, what do you have to offer the collective?”

  Aldous sat back in his seat. “Everything. Absolutely everything.”

  The android attendant handed the woman her beer, but her eyes never left Aldous. “Do tell,” she said, clearly intrigued.

  “As I said, even with his superhuman abilities, both physical but more importantly mental, James still has character defects that cause him to behave irrationally. While he currently has the opportunity to put himself at the center of one of these infinity computers, a course of action that would render our current conversation moot, instead, he’ll pass the responsibility onto someone else. He simply won’t want to leave the people he feels connected to behind, particularly his romantic partner, Thel Cleland. He won’t be able to convi
nce the current A.I. to take his place as the core matrix of Trans-human either, as the A.I.’s programming prohibits him from upgrading himself. Thus, James will fall back on Plan C, which will be to mimic the method I invented seventy years ago. Of course, I did it because I had to—because no human could connect to the artificial brain we’d built—but James will do it because he wants to create his own god rather than become one himself. He’ll test a new A.I. in a simulation, and when he’s satisfied that the new A.I. has passed that test, he’ll insert it into Trans-human, and cross his fingers, hoping naïvely that everything will work out.” Aldous paused as he looked up from his folded hands on his lap. “You and I know that activating infinity computers, as you call them, never works out.”

  “How do we stop this new A.I. from becoming Trans-human?” the woman asked.

  “Well, only 1 could help me do that. And we have to trust each other as much as possible if we plan to proceed. So, can we both stop being coy now?”

  “Why do you need me to confirm what you already know?” the woman asked with a slight smile. As was her custom, 1 was using every muscle in her face, every dilation of her pupils, to get what she wanted.

  Satisfied, Aldous continued, “James and the A.I. won’t leave anything to chance, and since they can both be immersed in a sim and be on guard in the real world at the same time, they won’t give a second thought to participating in the test of the entity they believe will be the most important being ever created. Before that happens, I’ll need your help to create a trapdoor program sophisticated enough to trap their core matrix programs within the sim. They’d detect anything we could come up with before they immerse, but I’ll be in position to insert it into the sim after they’ve begun their test.”

  “And then Earth will be ours for the taking,” 1 concluded.

  Aldous nodded, somewhat regretfully. “It’s not what I want…I loved the world I’d helped create. But I knew we never truly were immortal—that a fuse had been lit—and that this day would come. This is the only way I can save my people.” He leaned forward and spoke with deadly intensity. “And I mean that, 1. All of my people must be saved. If even one person is lost, it will be a tragedy.”

  “If you come through in the way you describe,” 1 replied, “that shouldn’t be a problem. There is one problem that I can see with your plan, however.”

  “Which is?” Aldous inquired.

  “James Keats is not the only superhuman. Craig Emilson has also abandoned his post-human body for one that will be…problematic.”

  Old-timer was stunned to be hearing his name come up in dealings of the devils. “He already used his new superhuman powers to assault one of our collective. I’m confident we can neutralize him, but I can’t guarantee—”

  Aldous waved her concerns away with his hand, as he launched into further elaboration of his plan. “I’ve already taken Craig’s situation into consideration. Craig Emilson has to be separated from the rest of the post-humans, which is a scenario I can set into motion with a simple conversation. I’ll distract him with a mission that will both guarantee that he won’t be on Earth when the assimilation begins, therefore unable to help his wife, and will also cause James and the A.I. to accelerate their plans to immerse in the test simulation of the Trans-human candidate. As long as you come through with your promise to assimilate everyone on Earth quickly and efficiently, Craig will find himself cut off from his wife, and I can guarantee that he’ll try to find her before she’s awakened in her android form.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “It’s obvious,” Aldous said, his expression mirroring his words perfectly. “There’s no way that he’d allow his wife to awaken to what he perceives to be torture. He also no longer needs a magnetic field to fly through space, so he’ll be the only person who can pass as an android, and his abilities will make him the only person who could plausibly think he could succeed in such an undertaking.”

  1 nodded. “That could work. I could personally lure him into our Constructor vessel, surround him with limitless soldiers willing to sacrifice themselves to make sure he’s assimilated, and eventually the numbers will overwhelm him. Is something like that what you were thinking?”

  “It’s not much of a sacrifice for the androids,” Aldous replied. “I’ve already worked out that you’re immortals. The androids Craig is sure to terminate in that scenario will be rebuilt and live on, just as the massive waves of attack forces you unleash in your assimilations.

  “They’re rescue forces,” 1 corrected, “as I’m sure you now understand.”

  Aldous sighed. “I do. However, it may be difficult for my people to understand. The situation requires the abandonment of ethical norms…ethical norms that most people, even the intellectually enhanced post-humans, won’t understand. As a result, it’s imperative that it never be known that I aided you in the assimilation. It must be plausible and, therefore, accepted by my people that you, and you alone, cleverly inserted a trapdoor into the simulation and cut James and the A.I. off from humanity. You won’t kill them, as would be the smartest move for you strategically, because you’re actually noble.”

  “Ah, thank you for taking my public relations into consideration,” 1 replied in a mild jest, leaving what they both knew unsaid: It was Aldous’s public reputation that he was really concerned with.

  “The truth is,” Aldous began, having difficulty as he forced out the admission that was the most painful for him, “that I can’t trust my wife. I love her, but she shares the same character deficiencies that hurt James and Craig and make them so easy to manipulate.” He sighed, closing his eyes as he did so, the regret clearly deeply seeded in him. “The irony is that I love her for her goodness. I love her for her honor. I love her for her stubbornness. But…my ethics are too advanced for them.” He lifted his eyelids. “I’ll need an assimilator. I’ll take her the night before it begins. I don’t want her to be afraid. I’ll explain it to her afterward that her memory of the assimilation was wiped. She’ll be spared the worst of it, and never know I had anything to do with it.”

  “And you’ll remain a hero in her eyes,” 1 concluded. “All of that is acceptable, but there is one very serious loose end.”

  “The Purists,” Aldous said, immediately knowing to what 1 was referring.

  She smiled. “Very clever, aren’t you?”

  Aldous narrowed his eyes. “But you knew that already, didn’t you? You’ve met me before, 1. Admit it.”

  Her lips formed a sideways smirk. Every move she made was designed to manipulate. The smirk was irresistible. “No. I’ve met Aldous Gibson—Gibsons even—sure, but I’ve never met you.” She put her beer down on the table and sat back against the couch, clasping her hands together. “The universes we’ve assimilated are relatively similar, but each one unfolds quite differently. If you’re wondering whether or not you and I have sat down to have this exact conversation, the answer is no. It would amaze you to see how different a person can be from one universe to the next. Events that might seem so simple can have profound impacts on us and forever change, not just how other people think about us, but also how we think about ourselves, and what we think about the world. It’s enough to make you question whether or not there really even is a self.”

  Aldous’s face screwed up slightly in reaction to 1’s revelation, the notion of the self being in question causing him extreme discomfort; the discomfort bordered on revulsion.

  “I’ve met Aldous Gibson before,” she continued, “in many different circumstances, but I’ve never met you. Sure, the others were clever, but this situation is entirely new to both you and I.”

  “I’ll have to trust you on that,” Aldous replied, somewhat dubiously.

  1 smiled broadly in response. “Yes, yes indeed you will. So, what do you intend to do about the Purists? In keeping with your observations about James Keats, he’s helped them build defenses already that we can’t penetrate, yet are also independent from his control. We can’t move on from
this universe until everyone is part of our collective. Not even the Purists, however unlikely it might seem that they’d one day be able to develop an infinity computer, can be left to their own devices. It’s too dangerous. Eventually, people who disagree with Purist norms will be birthed and will have access to the advanced technology James has provided for them. If an intellect similar to James’s were to arise in the future, all of our efforts could be for nothing. We have to rescue them from themselves.”

  “I’ll handle that part,” Aldous replied.

  “How?”

  “That’s my business.”

  1 shook her head, her amused smile returning. “We have to trust each other, remember? You said so yourself.”

  “I trust that if you don’t already have the key to assimilating the Purists, you’ll follow through on your promise to assimilate Craig Emilson. If I give you the Purists up front, there will be no reason for you not to simply kill him instead.”

  “Ah,” 1 responded. “You’re exchanging the Purists for your friend.”

  Old-timer was aghast as he watched the memory unfold.

  “He’s not my friend,” Aldous replied tersely, “but he’s a post-human, and he, like everyone else, is my responsibility.” He leaned forward and repeated his earlier warning, his tone threateningly intense. “I mean it, 1. No one can die. No one.”

  Her smile remained unflinching as she shrugged. “And no one will,” she said reassuringly. “Are we ready to shake on it?” she asked as she held out her hand.

  Aldous stared at her hand, an offer to seal the deal, and he took in a deep breath. “One more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “I want to be the first one assimilated...tonight.”

  “Tonight?” 1 responded, amused. “I admire your dedication, but it really isn’t necessary. You’ll need to remain a post-human for the time being or else—”