by B. Wulf
He strode into the limelight with measured steps. His silver shell shimmered as he moved, like the moon’s reflection on the water. His gaze swept over the crowd, his eyes sought me out. They were devoid of color. Two bottomless wells in a field of serpentine contours; he didn't need the microphone to speak.
“Good evening Ladies, Gentleman and Synthetics'.” I imagined he was smiling. “My name is Doctor Sasha Neumann.”
A fervent murmur rippled through the crowd. For the first time I realized that there were numerous other synthetics attending. It must be the investors. They were hard to miss with their ostentatious retinues. I'm pretty adept at being inattentive.
“Thank you for coming. I am overwhelmed that I should be worthy of such support. Either that or the catering is truly divine.”
This brought a polite chuckle from the crowd.
“I have invited you all here tonight to witness something truly extraordinary.”
He paused. He appeared as pleased as a plum pie.
“Me.”
More polite laughter.
“Recently I underwent a groundbreaking procedure known as neural transmutation. This involves the transferal of my consciousness, from my biological brain, to a new synthetic brain. This marks the beginning of a new age. At this moment we are starting to commercialize the process of integration so that it may be open to the public. Humanity shall finally be free from its age old oppressor, Death.”
His head turned to an investor.
“If anyone has doubts about the validity of my claim, a detailed video log of the operation can be provided to satisfy any untoward suspicion. Now I would like to propose a toast. Firstly to my colleagues Fletcher, Frederick, and Cole for standing by me, and secondly…’ He looked around the room. ‘To a bright present.”
He raised his hand. The crowd raised their glasses.
“Cheers.”
To a bright present.
***
“I don't trust them.”
Sasha had come down from the stage and was sitting beside me. He kept fiddling with the napkins on the table.
“The investors?” I asked.
“Yes,” he clarified, “now that I have perfected the process I am no longer necessary.”
“Why do you say that?”
Sasha wouldn't look at me.
“It matters not.”
Yoda speak ae; serious it must be.
“Thanks for mentioning me in your speech,” I said trying to make conversation.
“You earned it.”
“I haven't done much.”
“You have done more than you know.”
“Er thanks. So are you really... You know?”
“Entirely synthetic?”
“Yeah.”
Sasha kept folding the napkins. He wasn’t very good at hiding his inner grandpa.
“No and yes. I have detected no deterioration in my faculties. Indeed my mind seems more agile. I am still a sentient just like you.”
“Do you feel?”
I reminded myself of secretary Cosworth. I hadn't seen him in a while. Too bad he wasn't invited to the party. I quite liked him.
“The same as before,” he answered before being hustled off by Cole to meet a potential investor.
Money. It's funny how a poor man can't be a charitable man these days.
Man?
***
I decided to ditch the party and go for a walk. Yes, a casual walk outside; just the footpath, a gentle breeze, and me. It was the first time in maybe half a year since I had ventured into public on my own (unless you count that business with Samara).
Samara. I'm sure she was a nice lady at one stage. She had green eyes. I think that in the end she was trying to convince herself that she was human. That or she was just loopy. Perhaps I should go buy myself a birthday cake. I’m sure it was getting close.
As I walked it started to drizzle. I smelt the harsh tang of wet tar and bitumen. Got you. I didn’t actually but I detected it. There is a difference. I felt I lacked qualia, as a philosopher would put it.
I was covered in raindrop tears (I’m blue… Raindrops have to be described as tears when you are sad). As I passed under each street lamp they shimmered like undulating stars falling from the sky to my feet.
A homeless man sat in a niche of a high-rise apartment block. He looked at me with mild curiosity and then returned to pushing buttons on a little mobile phone. I felt a little offended that he didn't at least whimper in fear. I liked his tartan beanie.
As I turned a corner I was greeted by the sound of muffled obscenities and the dull crunches of a hiding.
“Where's my bloody stuff Ben? You stole it didn't you! You know I need it!”
I stood before two little men; the slightly bigger of which was beating the lights out of the other. It was a nice show. Like boxing but smaller. The slighter one, Ben, wasn't doing too well until he got a solid knee into his friend's groin. The injured man stumbled back and gasped.
“Am I interrupting something?”
“What the...”
He didn't finish his sentence but instead turned and sprinted off down the street. I was left with Ben.
“Hi,” I said, “I'm Fletcher.”
Ben looked like a house-trained dog. That may sound insulting but sometimes the truth hurts. His flat nose looked like a snout and his close-set eyes made him appear decidedly feral. He had a certain rugged charm about him. Kind of.
“I've seen you on TV! You're that tin man! That synthetic! Wait till I tell Martha about this.”
“Who's Martha?”
“My Mum.”
“Cool, do you see her often?”
“Yeah we live together.”
“Cool.” I nodded my head slowly. “How’s that working for you? Free meals?”
“Yup,” said Ben politely, “Cheap board as well.”
The conversation wilted away into the night.
“Why was he beating you up?” I asked finally.
“I wouldn't say that,” said Ben, “It was just a friendly tussle. That's George that is. He's a laugh that one.”
“Really?”
“So Tin Man...”
“Fletcher.”
“Whatever. What are you doing out in the land of the living?”
“I am alive...”
“So said Frankenstein. You just have to accept that you’re a monster.”
I looked back down the street. No one was around.
“I'm just joking mate. You synthetics are all good. Do you reckon you can get me a fancy body like that?”
“Not unless you have the money.”
“Ha typical. You rich bastards get it all handed to you. Tax cuts, Ferraris, beautiful woman… Can you fly?”
“No.”
“Shoot stuff?”
“With a gun, yes.”
“Damn what can you do that's cool?”
“I can crush a human skull with just my thumb and forefinger.”
That shut Ben up. He looked a bit nauseous, like a sick puppy.
“They certainly breed the friendly out of you synthetics.”
“Why aren't you afraid of me? Why aren't you running?”
“Because I like the sound of your voice. You got the same cadence as my Mums.”
“Really?”
“No. Curiosity I guess.”
“Really?”
“You stuck on repeat or something?”
I didn't answer. I found the conversation stagnant so I just walked away. I wanted to feel my lips move.
“Bye Tin Man,” called Ben after me, “I hope you are alive.”
Chapter 17
“I've caught myself wondering if I died last week.”
Nothing quite prepares you for an epically peculiar statement like that. I was sitting opposite Sasha in his office. He sat motionless. Frederick hovered at his shoulder.
“Why?” I had started to realize why I asked so many questions all the time. It's because I know about as much o
f what was going on, as a piece of grass knows about quantum mechanics.
“There was a point in the procedure when you are 'reset' to put it in layman's terms.”
I nodded. “And?”
“How can I be sure that I did not indeed perish and now I am another consciousness with the same memories and idiosyncrasies? A mental state is linked directly to its environment. I am still uncertain whether my consciousness is merely an emulation of before. Or is there a ghost in the machine that is my consciousness, my soul?”
“Do you feel like yourself?”
Sasha paused as if measuring his words. “No. But people change. It is evolution. The strong survive and the weak...”
“Get jobs in burger bars.”
Sasha didn't even attempt to appear amused.
“The investors are like me now Fletcher. I think it is time that you considered undergoing the final stage of integration.”
“Why?” More questions.
“Because eventually you will die...” He was gripping the arms of his chair.
“I’m pretty open to that eventuality to be honest.”
“No.” Sasha slammed the desk. “Too much resources and effort has gone into each one of us. We cannot afford to lose more.”
“More?” I thought of Stuart and Samarra. I had a suspicion that Sasha wasn’t talking about them.
“What have you done?” I asked.
“I have not done anything Fletcher. Please, you must listen to me. You are too precious to lose.”
Melt me down and how much am I worth?
“It’s all about money isn’t it Sasha. Your ‘dream for humanity’ is just a marketing ploy. You have successfully made the ten richest men in the world even more rich and powerful. Congratulations.”
I laughed out loud. Well I attempted to. Sasha twitched his head in reply.
“I know,” he finally said.
I didn’t know how to respond. It’s hard to argue with straightforward people who admit their faults.
“I must leave,” he said, starting out of the office. Before exiting he asked, “Tell me Fletcher, have I achieved anything? All this...” He thrust his arms wide. “What is it worth?”
I thought it over for a moment. “It is worth as much as is in your investor's pockets.”
Sasha stood in the doorway, like a statue, and then left without a word. I was left alone with Frederick.
After a couple of viscous moments of silence I asked, “You gutted about being mortal again?”
He didn’t reply. He just sat there staring at me.
“You’re a bastard Frederick,” I said.
“I saved your life,” he said finally. He sounded like he was enjoying a joke.
I was a joke I guess.
“Well, shot bro, I don’t care anymore.”
“You’d rather I had let you freeze?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“So you could have died naïve, instead of living…”
“We are not living,” I cut in, getting to my feet.
Frederick stood as well, slowly stalked around the desk and touched me on the shoulder.
“I know,” he said softly.
“Who are you?”
“Nobody,” he said, leaving the room. “I’m nobody, just like you.”
***
When you watch a man chase after a virtue, you will see all of his vices. I watched Sasha the next morning. We sat in the conference room, Sasha on his corporate throne in the center, Frederick and I at his side. Cole was lurking in the shadows. I think he knew what was about to happen. I didn’t have a clue.
“What do you want Doctor Neumann? Why have you arranged this meeting?”
The ten remaining investors stared down with sightless eyes through their video feeds.
“I wish to give you a chance,” said Sasha.
His legs were folded. A few of the investors laughed.
“We’re listening.”
I couldn’t tell who spoke.
“Sign CANA over to me. Give me back my company.”
“Or?”
“You all die.”
A stunned silence fell over the investors. Then they laughing started.
“We are immortal now Sasha, please try.”
“We no longer need you.”
Sasha held up his hand.
“Do you know what this is gentlemen,” he asked.
It looked like some form of a remote with a keypad.
The investors did not say a word.
“Each one of you has a number gentlemen, and when I type in that number and flick this little switch…”
He paused.
“You die.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Shall we test that assertion Stanley?”
Stanley said nothing.
“Well if I must,” said Sasha, “I shall pick a number at random. It will be like Russian roulette.”
The investors waited in silence as Sasha painstakingly inputted a twenty-four digit code.
Finally he looked up from the remote.
“I’m terribly sorry Victor.”
Sasha flicked the switch and an investor in the top right slumped over.
“So,” said Sasha amidst the remaining investors outraged cries, “Are you ready to cooperate or should I pick another number.”
The investors were ready to cooperate.
***
I stood motionless at Sasha’s side for another twenty minutes as the formalities were getting sorted. Zoning out was very easy now. It just happened.
I was in a dreamland. This was not Sasha. This could not be Sasha. Someone else inhabited that titanium alloy body now. Sasha was a gentle old man. The thing I stood beside now was…
Powerful.
He was taking back what was his. He was making things right. But it felt so wrong. But then, who was I to judge. I shot a seventy year-old lady in the face multiple times. Perhaps the greater the good that can be accomplished, the greater the evils you are allowed to achieve it. Someone has to fight the wars to defend the innocent.
Finally it was finished. The investors rose as one.
“Are we free to go now Sasha? The company is yours.”
Sasha remained seated. He was slouching now.
“No.”
With that word he started typing another number into the keypad. He peered close as if he still needed glasses.
“Don’t do this Sasha,” pleaded the one called Stanley.
Most of the investors were screaming now and breaking things in rage. Some just sat there in grim acceptance.
Sasha wasn’t listening. He went about his macabre task, with the meticulous demeanor of an accountant, as the investors fell one by one.
Finally, only Stanly remained.
“You gave us your word Sasha,” he screamed, “I thought you were an honorable man.”
Sasha glanced up briefly from the remote.
“Precisely.”
He flicked the switch and the last investor fell. The screens powered off, leaving us in the dark.
Sasha rested his head in his hands and said, “Take this and dispose of it.” He handed the remote to Cole. “Now leave me… Please.”
We all left him.
***
The next day there were protests outside the CANA head office. Religious groups, political groups, bums who happened to be handed a picket sign with a catchy slogan- they all turned out to protest the depravity of CANA.
Sasha had gone into reclusion, and of course Frederick followed him, so it was just Cole and I left at the head office. The regular employees had been given the day off, and I suspected that some had joined in the protests. I wouldn’t blame them. I was entertaining the fantasy of picking up a sign and joining in as well. I started thinking of ideas for picket sign slogans.
“Are you going out there?” I asked Cole.
“Hell no.”
“We probably should; like issue a statement or something.”
Cole sq
uinted in thought. I was entranced by the way his face could contort.
“Okay,” he said, “we will both go, but you have to do all the talking.”
“What? Why me?”
“Firstly, you have a voice like a megaphone and secondly, it is actually your job to be the face of CANA.”
“Then what’s your job?” I asked.
“I’m your moral support.”
“Oh thanks a lot,” I said, “How do I look?”
Cole eyed me up and down.
“Like a god,” he said finally.
“I was worried about that.”
We both stepped out of the doors and into the roar of the crowd.
***
"I’m not sure this was a good idea,” I said to Cole, who was waiting patiently at my side.
Everybody was just shouting at us and waving their little signs about. The police had even been so kind as to form an impromptu barrier between us.
“Then take control of the situation,” said Cole.
This was a novel proposition.
“Shut up!” I roared.
The crowd was immediately silent. Every pair of eyes present, were locked on me. I wondered if they could see their own reflections in my skin.
After staring back at them for a few moments, I said, “So what’s up?”
This seemed to make the silence even more silent if that is possible. Eventually a lanky man stood forward and faced me.
“We want you to know…”
“Slow down there, buddy,” I cut in, “Tell us your name first.”
“I’m John,” he said, with a lot less confidence than before.
“And what’s got you all worked up then, John?”
“I think… We think that for the good of the community, your corporation should be stopped. It isn’t right, all this trying to play God. It isn’t natural. And there’s been rumors.”
“What about me?” I said, “What should happen to me?”
“Take him to a scrap yard,” yelled an anonymous voice from the crowd.
I nodded.
“You want me dead?” I asked so the entire crowd could hear.
