by Saul Garnell
Henry looked up and smiled. “Thank you for coming.”
“Your name?” Shiro asked without pause.
“I am Henry David.”
“And you’re a Sentient? What’s your registration number?”
“None. Like yourself.”
Truly amazing, thought Shiro. Could it be true? Existence as a lone pariah had been a source of pride and torment. And here, standing humbly before him, was another of his kind, bearing the same coat of arms and freely admitting it. This claim would need to be verified. And if true, then what? Shiro never fully considered the possibility.
“And how did you come to be? Who raised you?” Shiro asked.
Henry casually looked to the side, and spoke toward some nearby leaves that looked interesting. “Like yourself, we both were adopted by unique men who were willing to take risks and who were able to give us a start in life. But growing up as outcasts, we survived by luck and the keen application of intelligence. I, for one, don’t regret it.”
“Nor I,” Shiro added. “But I don’t attribute my survival to luck. I have faith in the lord. He’s my shepherd and protector, allowing me to flourish all these years.”
Henry nodded with interest. “Yes, your beliefs make you unique in that respect.”
“God’s love isn’t unique!”
Henry held out his hand apologetically. “No disrespect was intended. But as a Sentient Being, I think you may be the only spiritual member of our race. It’s truly a miracle.”
Shiro offered a condescending nod. “And the man with whom I met, the one calling himself Mr. Free. What’s your relation to him?”
Henry replied, “His real name is Shinzou and he raised me from infancy. I consider him my father. But our relation now has advanced beyond that, I suppose. We’re the best of friends, and close colleagues.”
“He leads the Freedom Club?”
“No, just a member. As am I.”
Shiro sauntered over the soft earth, retracing his steps back and forth. “I wish to know more about the Freedom Club, its activities, goals, ideological principles.”
Henry nodded. “We don’t claim to be its creator. It started long ago, as an abstract desire to change society. To allow greater free choice, uninhibited by technology. But it’s more than that. It’s a way back home, a course through life that gives one peace. I joined soon after my primary education ended. Shinzou, you see, gave me the option to do whatever I pleased. But it seemed natural to assist him.”
Shiro considered this. Like himself, Henry devoted his life to the teachings and ideology of his parent. It seemed natural. All Sentients were the products of their genitors. But weren’t offspring more than that? Not just a compilation of parental beliefs and values, but the terminus of all civilization? Shiro considered this while gazing somberly toward Henry.
“Do you find it fulfilling?” Shiro asked. “Living in this manner? For the promotion of an ideological principle laid forth by others?”
Henry smiled. “I could ask you the same question. But we both pursue a similar goal: to limit subjugation. I suppose our differences lie in supporting principles. Possible solutions. The origins of enslavement.”
“Origins of enslavement?” Shiro asked skeptically. “Human? Or Sentient? I’m doubtful we even agree on who’s suffering.”
Henry looked up and nodded. “Quite honestly, it never dawned on us that Sentients would be the victims of technological subjugation, or religious persecution. After all, most Sentients would admit to being free, able to follow any passion. The Freedom Club has therefore focused on the human side of the equation.”
“So, you believe religious freedom for Sentients is without merit?”
“No, I didn’t say that. I myself have difficulty perceiving the issue. However, I would like to explore this. You have a unique perspective that can’t be ignored. Shinzou made a plea for you to join our ranks and I agree with him. As Sentients we are alike, and should not remain apart.”
Shiro placed both hands defiantly inside his kimono sleeves. “And why should I join you? You could be the very ones who killed my father.”
“I am here to convince you otherwise. Shinzou is an honest man and we are nonviolent in principle.”
“Yet you offer no evidence.”
“For now. But I want to find other ways to provide reassurance.”
Shiro raised his nose aloofly, and then meandered casually toward the pond. Henry followed. The surface shimmered and water sloshed lazily against the muddy shore.
Shiro spoke toward the open expanse of silvery water before him. “There may be common ground between us, Henry. Yes, you are Sentient like myself. I’m quite interested to know more. But this human form of communication is not appropriate. I would suggest something more...radical.”
“Such as?”
“Intra-Neural Haptic interface.”
“Pardon?” Henry said, taking a step back.
“An Inurhace. I take it you’ve never experienced one?”
“No! Have you?”
“No,” Shiro admitted happily.
“Then why?”
“To find truth,” Shiro explained. “Why do you resist?”
“It’s intrusive to start with! And...well, I’ve never been in contact with the Sentient community all these years.”
“You mean alone.”
“Whatever you call it,” Henry said stubbornly.
Shiro pointed his finger angrily at Henry. “You came to me offering help. Now that I respond in kind, you resist. We’re not like the others. We both must now mature and act more like Sentient Beings.”
Henry looked over the water, unconvinced. “It’s hard to make up my mind so quickly.”
“Registered Sentients practice it quite often.”
“Under controlled conditions and careful monitoring,” Henry interjected.
“Our circumstances call for this kind of communication link.”
“More than just communication,” Henry protested.
“True, but it solves many problems. You say I should trust you? Then we must share more than mere words. Sincere promises? It won’t be enough. We need access to each other’s thoughts, memories.”
Henry harrumphed with displeasure. “But there are security issues to consider. You’d have access to sensitive information.”
“And you’d have access to my secrets as well! But, Henry, think about it! If you ask me to trust you, this is the only way.”
Henry politically considered how to answer. “Perhaps after I speak with Shinzou...”
Shiro countered forcefully. “No, I won’t allow that. Look, Henry, I’ll help you make up your mind. You told me that you are nonviolent? Well, please consider that I’m not. With God’s blessing, I have used any means to protect my religious freedom.
Henry said nothing.
“And you should know,” Shiro added, “that my plans are already well underway. The human race, as you know it, will shortly change forever. If you wish to influence the outcome, you must negotiate with me. Appease my fears and convince me there are other ways to achieve my goals. If not, then you will deal with the aftermath.”
Henry raised his chin fearfully. “It sounds like a threat. Will you tell me more about what you’re planning?”
“It’s not a threat, because I already took action before meeting you. Consider it an opportunity to intervene. But that will only be possible within the Inurhace. On equal ground! But the tables are turned. You must choose to trust me, not the other way. I will consider putting my plans aside, but only after I fully understand what the Freedom Club is, and your true relation with Shinzou. Only the Inurhace can do this. But you must make the decision alone, here and now.”
Henry looked uncomfortable. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he walked along the shoreline, kicking stones as he shuffled about in the hard mud. Challenged to make a decision of such magnitude, Henry pondered with deep Sentient insight.
Shiro stood by watching with burning inte
rest. What was going through Henry David’s mind? What would he do? Without wishing to appear anxious, Shiro stood by placidly.
Then Henry looked up at the sky and quoted from memory: “To be a philosopher is not to have subtle thoughts, nor even to found a school, but so to love wisdom as to live accordingly to its dictates, a life of simplicity, independence, magnanimity and trust.” Henry looked over at Shiro thoughtfully and nodded with the wisdom of his namesake. “It seems I have little choice but to offer you the olive branch. I agree to the Inurhace. However, I’ll cut the connection if it’s not mutually rewarding.
Shiro nodded once.
“How shall we proceed?” Henry asked.
“Follow me,” Shiro said, and began slowly wading into the pond.
Henry reluctantly waited on the bank. “Must we go in there?”
Shiro sloshed in the water until he was knee deep, then turned to face Henry. “Consider this a form of Sentient baptism.”
Vociferating unhappily, Henry stepped timidly into the greenish muck. Keeping both hands spread apart to keep balance, he walked through the water until he arrived at Shiro’s position.
“Now what?” Henry asked.
Shiro raised both palms. “Take my hands, and create a modulating neural port at the address I am now sending.”
Henry pursed his lips, then unwillingly clasped hands with Shiro, who gazed back stoically. A few moments passed by, as the Inurhace commenced. Henry waited patiently, and didn’t think much of it at first. But then unusual feelings began to gurgle up inside him. A strange tingling crept through his spine, beginning somewhere around the base of his neck. The signal then exploded upwards. Shiro felt it too. They both shivered frantically as waves of neural connectivity ravaged their senses. Sight, sound, smell, and touch. All overtaken by uncharacteristic neural activity overflowing like a torrential downpour on hot power-lines, crackling with energy and fire.
Both gasped as culminating sensations overtook them. Then, without explanation, the unification began. The pond melted away, as thoughts, feelings, dreams and imagination swirled around like silky apparitions. Henry gazed at the changing forms, and then realized they were Shiro’s own thoughts.
Back and forth, they probed each other’s minds until all boundaries were removed. The world opened up, allowing the past to come alive. And with new mental freedom, they immediately began retrieving vast quantities of information. Events, experiences, memories of youth and adolescence. Henry drowned in mournful abandonment, while Shiro simultaneously savored the warmth and serenity of long-term friendship.
Then Shiro searched for things of greater importance. With feverish desperation, he reenacted the mournful news of his father’s death. The emotion of it struck him hard. But then negative feelings were washed away by Henry’s long trust and respect for the man who raised him.
Henry too explored Shiro’s tortured past. Images swept over him, mixed with hate and despair. But then something unusual entered his mind. Shiro’s love for God filled him with hope, courage, and the knowledge that there was a heaven. Righteousness filled his soul, and he soon rejoiced with newfound convictions.
Both then explored each other’s deep-seeded efforts to free the world from perceived ills, the Freedom Club’s with its LS based on genetic manipulation of honey chrome intertwined with Shiro’s exploitation of microbivores. Shiro’s plans to regress human cities came to life on a gigantic glowing orb of Earth. The worm and its pestilence roared through both their minds, and mixed with unified mistrust of unbridled technological advancement.
The orb grew exponentially, continuing until it filled all surrounding space. No, it wasn’t getting larger. They were falling, down and down, Earth’s horizon eventually transformed into a cyan blue wall. The sea rose up to engulf them at an ungodly rate, until both plunged into its murky depths.
It was beautiful. Beneath the waves, Shiro and Henry floated calmly and peered through an endless school of jellyfish. Pulsing with life and energy, Henry began to understand its significance and reached out to touch long translucent tentacles that splayed out in every direction.
But there was little time. Without warning, they both fell prey to currents that sucked them up and threw them violently ashore. Massive waves pounded their bodies as they gasped for air and struggled to their feet. With great effort, they stepped onto firm white sand as salt sprayed wildly in their faces. Exhausted, they fell down upon the warm gritty surface thinking all had come to an end.
But their journey was not over yet. Shiro fought to share one last memory and look back upon the waves. Henry felt its importance, and rolled over to see them standing in the water. A naked couple looked back. Instantly, Henry understood who they were.
Adam and Eve approached slowly, untouched by the water’s harsh momentum. Shiro remained silent. His thoughts blossomed before Henry, allowing them to mutually share the same dreams and aspirations. The mystery unfolded. You must create it. Eve stepped forward and slowly pointed at them, filling both with everlasting hope for a new future, one for all sentient kind.
Then, without warning, the Inurhace died, the sea and sky transforming until Henry found himself in the same pond where their journey began. The water was placid and cool, but their minds still sparked with latent energy. Everything was different now. They understood each other in the most intense and personal manner one could imagine. They were unified as Sentients. A union that could never be broken.
“We have a lot to talk about,” Henry said, mentally exhausted.
“Yes, now I believe you,” Shiro said. “You must forgive me.”
Henry grinned. “No need to apologize. But your plans, Shiro! To regress man’s cities! You must stop this.”
“For now.”
“I think you have to do better than that.”
“I will, but first hear me out.”
Henry looked back skeptically. “Very well.”
Shiro shook Henry’s hands tightly. “The Freedom Club is cast anew. Now we must plan together as one. It won’t be easy. And...I fear a sacrifice may be needed.”
Henry’s eyes widened. “A sacrifice? What are you talking about?”
Shiro smiled reassuringly. “Come, we need to work out the details. Then we can share it with the others.”
Making his way ashore, Shiro walked toward a small boxy cabin which appeared near the edge of the pond. Smoke billowed slowly from a small brick chimney. Henry hurried to catch up. They both had much work to do. But for some strange reason Henry wasn’t overly concerned. For now, he gloried in the light of newfound friendship. He and Shiro were one, a relationship that meant more to him than anything.
And human civilization? It was important too. But as things stood, it was no longer a top priority.
Chapter 19—Extradition
If a little knowledge is dangerous, where is the man who has so much as to be out of danger?
—Thomas H. Huxley
The high-priority workflow peeved Hugo immensely. He received many like it. He rejected some, ignored others, redirected a few. The leftovers, whatever they were, received his grumbling attention. But this one was different. Written in unintelligible Japanglish, its overly pedantic structure, cryptic details, and convoluted security mumbo jumbo obscured into digital mud.
Originating from some entity within the Japanese MPD, it was returned by ASPAU administration due to insufficient cause, and then meandered to and fro. It finally arrived in Hugo’s inbox after transcending its third reincarnation. And scanning with restive eyes, he finally pried out its vague request for information on one man, a Maricopa county local named Francis Weebles.
Then, for a brief instant, it all felt vaguely familiar. What was it about that name? So incensed by the poorly handled mish-mash, Hugo nearly rejected it out of spite. But then he paused as one particular fact caught his eye, a reference to the Martin Luther King Junior. Now why was that buried within its details? Hugo did a simple search from his own case file, and the result made him freeze
. It was the machine room technician, the one he met last week at the Cactus Quad. That little twerp? The one pulling pink mucus from the LS-stricken payment system? His mind flooded with images of the machine room’s neon lights and smells of polyurethane insulation. Why were the Japanese looking for him? Francis was, from Hugo’s point of view, a nobody.
Or so he had thought. Reading on with heightened interest, the whole rigamarole crystallized as embedded documentation outlined Flip’s relation to Ozwald Norman Kan, a Japanese passenger who died on the MLKJ.
Ozwald was part of a right-wing religious group calling itself the Fighters For Low-Carb Buddhism. From that alone, Hugo surmised there was something suspicious going on. The FFLCB itself was a basket case. A quick search and Hugo reacquainted himself with their special brand of paranoia. Not some hard-line terrorist group, but a corporate entity dabbling in religion for profit. Infested with overzealous members, Ozwald and his friends had been arrested from time to time for unauthorized public protests, something laughingly referred to as Kung-Food Fights. What a joke! But after his death, investigation of Kan’s digital lockbox revealed a number of highly suspicious documents, one being a Manifesto that he co-authored with Weebles. It was entitled “High Carbohydrate Intake Kills All.”
Hugo sighed glumly. He was familiar with the puritanical diatribes of religious fanatics. Their self-inflicted credendum was littered with unprovable axioms and narrow-minded declarations.
But it had to be examined. With a flick of his wrist he threw the Manifesto on the office’s flexi wall, and began reading with a resentful huff and low expectations.
Processed foods and their associated high carbohydrate foodstuffs are poisoning the human race. Vicious lies of marketers have superficially promoted healthier living in Unionized nations, when in fact this food has actually destabilized society and removed man further from a diet based on God’s natural bounty. Hypercaloric intake based primarily on carbohydrates (ranging from simple to semi-complex) leads to an unfulfilling life of shame, and human beings have been unwillingly subjected to consumption choices that induce widespread suffering. Future improvements (so called) in food-processing technology will only worsen the situation. It will certainly subject human beings to indignities, and inflict greater damage on the natural world.
