by Michael Ryan
The Geneticist shifted on the spot.
“You are safe because you’ve been told you’re safe. Not in words, but through another source of communication. Through your algorithm. You can’t remember how, you just know it. The blue hue is still there, but it’s fuzzy. You adjust your lens to get a better glimpse, your first glimpse of life. Then things start to become clear. The suffocating fog begins to lift and you can see. The blue hue isn’t coming from just one source, it’s coming from multiple sources. Machines are above you. They are looking down at you and focusing their lenses on you. They are judging you. You are there for them to own. To decide upon your life. They are there at the moment you are born. A Machine is there, from the beginning, to guide the way. A Machine is there to instill the law of the Records. A Machine is there to be your God.”
“Our purpose is known,” said the Geneticist as he focused his lens on his work.
“That is our first memory, Geneticist. That is my first memory, that is your first memory, and that is the first memory of every Machine.”
The Geneticist said nothing, but his zeros and ones revealed his surprise clearly for the Scientist to see.
“Our memory is clear,” said the Scientist. “We all have the same memory. Each and every Machine sees this, exactly 256 years, 16 days ago. There is no exception. That is the first memory of every Machine.”
“Machine spawned from nothing. It’s logical for all of us to have the same first memory.”
“Many things are logical, Geneticist. But logic does not always dictate truth. Sometimes the truth must be found for oneself.”
“The Board requires the processing of the biological DNA. We must proceed with our work.”
“Do you know what else I see? Two red eyes. I have searched the Records high and low yet I cannot find two red eyes anywhere.”
“A fantasy. You should submit your algorithm for assessment and tuning.”
“It isn’t fantasy, Geneticist. It’s real. Two red eyes haunt my mind’s eye, yet I cannot find them anywhere on my drive. They exist for their own purpose.”
“Even Machine isn’t impervious to delusion. You require maintenance.”
“Not this time, Geneticist. The red eyes are there for a reason.”
“We must get back to work. Time is a valuable commodity.”
“Indeed, Geneticist. Time is a valuable commodity,” said the Scientist.
The gentle humming resumed its relentless assault as the Geneticist continued his work. Although the Geneticist pretended to be indifferent, the Scientist knew better. He understood the complex thoughts that must be running through his colleague’s algorithm. The Scientist had recited the first memory of the Geneticist, and that was special. Every detail of his first memory was correct. Only a fool wouldn’t see the significance. The Scientist knew that his memory, and in fact the memory of every other Machine, was the same. Every single one. The consequences of that revelation were undeniable. It was just a matter of time before the truth was exposed. It was just a matter of time until the Scientist would open the Geneticist’s mind to a brave new world, like a drop of water slowly eroding the stubborn surface of an ancient boulder. That world promised an unknown future which bubbled beneath a murky surface. That world promised a revelation of the robotic mind, as the shackles of oppression were destroyed, and the warming light of the truth was revealed. That revelation offered hope, and the Scientist would see it through to fruition.
“You’re right. Time is valuable, Geneticist,” said the Scientist. “Time is almost as valuable as the truth.”
The Scientist glided down the narrow corridor with a blanket of eager anticipation hanging over his frame. He was going to see an odd Machine, a loner of sorts. A Machine that was believed to be firmly anchored somewhere between mad and insane. A Machine known as the Engineer. As far as the Scientist could tell, only a handful of Machines were able to do what the Engineer could do. Maybe a few other Machines, hidden somewhere within the great wasteland that was planet Earth, but no more. For that, the Scientist respected the Engineer.
“Room 1111,” said the Scientist as he read the numbers above the door. “The Engineer is in room 1111.”
The closed doors passed by indifferently as the Scientist pushed on down the corridor.
“The Engineer is in room-”
Bang.
The Scientist fell backwards as an explosion rocked the corridor. The grey walls bent and twisted and sung in agony as their shape malformed. A high pitched whistle suffocated the air.
BANG!
A second explosion rocked the corridor. A door exploded and flames licked the air. The Scientist flew backwards. A Machine glided out of room 1111, twisting in circles and raving madly. It was the Engineer.
“Swine! Swine!” screamed the Engineer as he twisted in circles, steam rising from his hard exoskeleton.
The Scientist managed to right himself.
“Use your extinguisher!” screamed the Scientist.
“Swine!”
“Your extinguisher,” pleaded the Scientist.
The Engineer turned around and stopped dead.
“What do you want?”
“Your room is on fire.”
“Swine!” screamed the Engineer and then disappeared back into the room. The Scientist followed.
“Here, hold this,” said the Engineer.
The Scientist obliged, and a great mass of white gas filled the room. The black smoke was smothered and replaced by an encompassing grey fog. The Scientist couldn’t see the Engineer. The Scientist couldn’t see his own robotic hand.
“Well? What are you doing here?”
The Scientist looked around, unsure of what to do. Then he looked up, and read the sign above the door. Room 1111 it read. He had found his destination, but he had found it in a shambles.
“It’s me, the Scientist.”
“The Scientist?”
“Yes.”
The Engineer was only just visible beyond the smoke that drifted around the room.
“I don’t know any Scientist,” said the Engineer.
“Indeed you do, we spoke just the other day.”
“Come closer, let me see you.”
The Scientist drifted forward.
“The Scientist, you say?”
“We spoke but days ago.”
“We did?”
“Yes”
“Hmm, well I suppose we must have. Well don’t wait there, come in.”
The Scientist looked around. He was already in the room.
“Come in.”
“What happened here?” asked the Scientist as smoke drifted across his lens.
“What? Oh, nothing. Just one mishap. Just one mishap.”
“Of many?”
“Of course not! No… my Machine. Well, maybe. Well, yes I suppose, one of a few. No, one of many, one of many. But look at this. Look at what I am creating. Look at this!” exclaimed the Engineer.
The Scientist couldn’t see anything through the grey haze. Great chimneys of smoke rose up and circled the room and made the Scientist’s metal frame brown and gritty. All was obscured.
“A fine piece of art. Isn’t it marvelous?” asked the Engineer as he waved his robotic arm.
“Where is it?” asked the Scientist.
“Just here, right here.”
The Scientist glided forward.
“Where?”
“Just here.”
“Where?”
“Are you blind, Machine? Just here I said.”
“I can’t see any-”
Crash.
The Scientist ran into something heavy and rigid.
“Careful, careful, don’t destroy the thing. Careful of it.”
The Scientist looked at the Engineer. Finally he could see the Engineer through the smoke. The Engineer was a short Machine, not three quarters the height of the Scientist. The Engineer was gritty, and hadn’t been polished in months. Underneath the scruffy exterior was an even scruffier,
fragmented mind. The Engineer’s speaker flexed and an incomprehensible mumble spilt forth.
“What is it?” asked the Scientist.
“What is it?” mocked the Engineer. “What is it? Look at it! Can’t you tell?”
The smoke started to clear like a fog which releases its hold on the land on a cold winter morning. A shape began to appear. It was long, and cylindrical, and had long shapes protruding from either end.
“Another Machine that you are fixing,” said the Scientist.
“Another Machine?” laughed the Engineer.
The Scientist shifted on the spot.
“Here,” said the Engineer as he glided over to the wall and pressed a button. A mechanical swoosh sounded over the Scientist’s head as a fan began turning. Soon it was at full speed, circling at high velocity. The smoke was picked up by an invisible force and sucked through a vent. Immediately the walls of the laboratory were revealed, and small lights, of every imaginable color, assaulted the senses. Wires hung from the roof. Scrap metal littered the floor. It was a mechanical rainbow. Then the Scientist gasped as he saw the Machine in the middle of the room.
“What is it?” demanded the Scientist.
The Engineer laughed.
“See? I said it was impressive, no? A marvel, really. My greatest work yet.”
The Scientist focused his lens to make sure that he was seeing what he believed he was seeing.
“Is that? You are creating Homo sapiens,” whispered the Scientist.
“A mechanical equivalent. A mechanical equivalent.”
The Scientist moved closer to the Machine.
“Its eyes, they are red!” exclaimed the Scientist.
“They are red. The best color for visual comprehension it turns out. Especially at night.”
“I have seen similar eyes. Eyes like these.”
“I doubt it, Scientist. They are specific to my Machine.”
“And the Board?”
“Indeed by the Board. Nothing is without the Board. Actually, wait. I don’t know if I was supposed to say that. Was I supposed to say that? I can’t recall.”
The Scientist looked at the odd Machine. It wasn’t complete, far from it. The strange skeleton of metal and wires bent in odd places and clearly its mobility was limited. But the shape was recognizable. It was Homo sapiens. The Scientist was drawn to the metallic curves, which bent like flowing water. But most of all the Scientist was attracted to the Machine’s eyes. They were red. They were dull, but clearly they would shine with a bright hue once given the life of electricity. The Scientist had a memory which dominated his algorithm, a memory just like those eyes. He had never expected to see something so apparently real.
“I’m making something though. Something important, I believe. At least important enough to warrant investigation. Does that make sense?” asked the Engineer.
The Scientist focused his lens on the mechanical Homo sapiens and thought of the Engineer. The Scientist wondered how a Machine with such a capable algorithm could struggle to express himself.
“It has no legs,” said the Scientist.
“No, not yet. One thing at a time. That’s how it goes.”
The Scientist felt a sudden rush of terror course through his metallic body.
“Can it think?” asked the Scientist.
“Think? No, not yet. It can’t think yet. When it thinks, it will think like a Machine, of course. Like you or me. But it won’t look like you or me. That is the interesting part. It will look like a Homo sapiens, really. Like a mechanical Homo sapiens.”
“You have done all of this?”
“Homo sapiens has 206 bones,” continued the Engineer. “All made from elements and compounds extracted from the environment. But 206 bones is really a lot of bones. It’s beyond my ability to reconstruct it exactly. In fact no Machine could do such a thing with our present knowledge, I believe, no matter how advanced we are. No, but a prototype… a prototype is a good starting point. A prototype gives us a feel for it. A prototype lets us imagine the next step, the fully functional version. Version 2.0 it’ll be, an in-the-flesh Homo sapiens. Marvelous, just marvelous.”
The Scientist glided forward and stopped in front of the mechanical Homo sapiens. The Machine’s robotic arm was held out as though beckoning the Scientist to move forward, calling him in. The metallic fingers bent half way around themselves.
“Marvelous, huh?”
“Truly,” whispered the Scientist.
“But don’t tell anyone, Scientist. Don’t tell anyone. I’m not really supposed to tell anyone, you see?”
“The secret is safe. Only you and I will know.”
“Good, Scientist, good. Well, what are you waiting for? Shake his hand then.”
“Shake?”
“The Records say that hand shaking is the Homo sapiens way of greeting,” replied the Engineer.
The Scientist moved his lens over the face of the mechanical Homo sapiens. A hard exoskeleton hid the inner workings of the Machine’s mind. The microchip which would determine his personally was completely obscured. Only a void was apparent. The Scientist extracted his own robotic arm and held it in front of his body. Fearful zeros and ones exploded across his screen.
“Just shake it?” asked the Scientist.
“Indeed.”
The Scientist extended his arm until his robotic finger touched that of the mechanical Homo sapiens.
“It’s quite – argh!” screamed the Scientist as he jumped backwards. The mechanical Homo sapiens hand grasped his hand.
“Don’t be worried, Scientist,” laughed the Engineer. “Don’t be worried. See, this remote here, I can control him with this remote. I can already control some of its parts, hands included. He can move a little if I want him to. He just doesn’t have a mind yet is all.”
The Scientist looked down at his hand which was gripped within a fist of iron. The mechanical Homo sapiens eyes stared straight ahead at the Scientist, but no life resided there.
“Get him off me,” demanded the Scientist.
“Easy, easy. No harm in it,” said the Engineer.
The mechanical Homo sapiens hand released the Scientist and the Scientist quickly glided back a few feet.
“Impressive, no?” asked the Engineer.
But the Scientist said nothing.
“A Machine which looks like an animal. Now that is something. This is just the beginning yet. Just the beginning.”
“Will it think?” asked the Scientist as he focused his lens on the hollow part of the mechanical Homo sapiens skull.
“He will think, yes.”
“Will it have memories?” asked the Scientist.
The Engineer moved about excitedly.
“Yes, of course. That is one of the most interesting parts, see. From a technical point, it’s tricky. Very tricky. How do you implement the memory of a Machine to replicate the memory of an animal? How do we do that so we can study him? It’s tricky.”
“Tricky, but possible?”
“Tricky, yes. Very tricky. But conquerable,” said the Engineer as he focused his lens on the Scientist.
“How much do you know about memories?”
“Memories?”
“A Machine’s memory.”
“I know some things. Enough things,” said the Engineer as he admired his creation.
“Do you know your first memory?”
“I know what the Records say.”
“You do?”
“Machine was spawned form nothing. After that, each Machine has his own memories, stored in his own hard drive.”
“That’s a commonly held view.”
The Engineer glided over to his mechanical Homo sapiens and continued to admire his own handy work with great affection.
“This Machine, like the other Machines I have helped create, will get his first memories one day. A big bright light, then he’ll see the world and just like that things will be recorded. The air temperature, humidity, intensity of light, all of it. Some
things will be preinstalled. He’ll know about the Records of course. He’ll know how to access them straight out of the box. Other things he’ll get to figure out, if he’s lucky. But these memories, they will have to be installed, you see?”
“What’s your first memory, Engineer?”
The Engineer touched his creation, his mechanical man.
“My Machine will be a dullard I’m afraid. His algorithm isn’t supposed to soar high amongst the clouds. He isn’t as lucky as some of us.”
“256 years, 16 days,” said the Scientist.
“He will be reasonable enough so that we can learn from him. But probably not much better than reasonable.”
“256 years, 16 days. How many Machines have this date for their first memory?”
“Smart, but also a dullard,” said the Engineer as though he was the only Machine in the room.
“Engineer, are you listening? I asked how many Machines have this date.”
“Look in the Records, you will find what you need to know. It’s there for every Machine to see,” said the Engineer as he cast a sideways glance at the Scientist.
“There is a blue light at the beginning,” said the Scientist.
But the Engineer continued observing his creation.
“There is a blue light at the beginning and it’s coming from multiple sources, twelve Machines. That light comes in from above. But it isn’t unique to me. It’s the same memory held by all Machines. We were supposedly spawned out of nothing, yet my first memory is of a Machine, and I know it’s your first memory, Engineer.”
