His sense of self shrank into a smallness he’d never known. It gave him a pang of foreboding which made him lose his usual sense of control. An indiscernible shadow of the future reached out to him, causing his eyes to blaze with vision. A wave of empathic concern and trepidation emanated from him, swept the hallway, causing nearby people to stop and turn to him in surprise. Several of the robotic staff halted, overridden with his emotional instructions from his silent wailing to fix something they could not discern or comprehend.
His dark thoughts were inexplicable, unwarranted. He vainly struggled to right himself, knowing how much his emotions affected others, but he felt himself careening down a canyon of madness painted with the possibilities of future happenings. He envisioned a society enslaved, mindlessly obeying an unknown set of masters who fed on them like giant spiders nestling at their throats. He railed against the image, vaguely aware he’d begun broadcasting uncontrolled fear to those around him.
He clamped down on his emotional broadcast, reversing his disorientation and closing the window of prophecy that had opened in his mind. Calm permeated the hallway once more. With confused looks, people smiled at him uncertainly, then quickly went on their way. The robots began to go about their tasks as if nothing had disrupted them.
Jason felt foolish. He barked a laugh at himself, but it sounded frantic and he fought down another wave of irrational fear.
He forced himself to move woodenly toward the exit. His need to be outside became compulsory, sapping his remaining volition, and he moved as if marionette strings drew his legs forward. Concerned looks followed him, and he could spare no thought for illusion. He started to become suspicious of his own behaviors, as they were abnormal, but he could name no affliction. His reactions were irrational, a cloud of miasma without substance.
The moment he stepped outside, his senses returned. Sound flooded his ears and sunlight pierced the veil of darkness shrouding his eyes. Without having realized he’d lost external perceptions, he stood mute, overwhelmed with relief by their sudden return. He breathed raggedly for a few more moments, then consciously slowed his breathing to a normal rate. Now he could laugh with genuine relief and the sound of his own voice became an anodyne which freed him of his dark percipience. He’d been sweating, his body metabolizing adrenaline.
Around him, the city bustled with activity. A vast chorus of machines and people created a noise altogether its own.
Flying vehicles wove through the skies in patterns determined by their computers for optimal delivery of their human cargos. Buildings, sculpted for functionality and esthetics, were draped in green. Trees crowned the structures; some so tall the tops could not be easily seen. Vines climbed the sides and cradled the structures in a vegetative embrace. Tiers designed to harbor gardens bloomed with color and breathed life into the air. Rather than the invasive angularity of cities of the past, the newer cities mingled technology and nature with chrysoprase-hued benevolence.
Taken for granted, the city around Jason shone with beauty, and he felt surprise at not having seen it before. He glanced at his hand, which bled from a cut he’d unknowingly obtained. He pulled a kerchief from his pocket and dabbed the cut lightly. Before his eyes, the wound stopped bleeding. Nannites, molecular machines designed to accelerate healing and perform medical tasks, rushed to the site and stitched the skin closed. Commonly known as “nannies”, the tiny robots had made it possible for humans to sustain once life-threatening wounds and survive. A recent advancement created and instituted by Director Faust had enhanced the nannites to the point where they kept the body completely whole and protected from everything short of death. They performed minor healing as part of their instructions but could be directed toward complex surgical procedures by Medics. He, himself, directed their operations during surgery and many considered him to be the best at the art. Jason’s natural mastery of communication to technology and specifically in directing the nannies, coupled with his empathic abilities, allowed him to discern patient issues, discomforts, and the efficacy of his repairs.
While Jason remained lost in his reverie, he heard the sliding doors open behind him. He turned. One of the facility robots strode up, it’s mechanically languid movements unusually fluid and surprisingly graceful. To those who had never seen advanced models, the human-like movements were disconcerting. Jason’s surprise derived from the robot’s presence rather than its design, however. Before he had time to pull together enough presence of mind to guess its intent, the robot delivered an order.
“Dr. Emerson, Central is detecting an elevated level of anxiety and erratic behavior. We wish for you to come with us for analysis.” It used a pleasant, unthreatening voice.
Taken aback, Jason said, “I’m fine. I just had a moment, a panic attack. It’s over and I’m back to normal.” He frowned. His anxiety had been overwhelming and completely out of character. Suddenly, he suspected his loss of control wasn’t entirely due to the shock of the conversation. Something more seemed to be at play. Traces of a biochemical might still be in his bloodstream, but he needed to analyze it soon, before his nannies removed it. He stuffed the kerchief in his pocket, thankful for the blood sample.
The robot paused, receiving instructions. “Thank you for updating us, Dr. Emerson, however policy states all doctors outside the range of acceptable health parameters must be analyzed for potential problems and possibly removed from duty. Please come with me for testing.” The soothing voice had become firm.
He felt his ire rising. “Attendant, transfer to Central directly. Central, this is senior Medic Dr. Emerson,” he said, emphasizing his superior rank. “I have regained normalcy and my panic attack has subsided. As I am no longer outside parameters, I do not require testing,” he said, citing protocol. “I must return to work.”
After a brief pause, the voice changed from being pleasantly robotic to commanding and starkly human. “Dr. Emerson. This is Central. You are ordered to testing immediately. Failure to follow the attendant will result in seizure.”
Jason’s mouth opened. He was stunned. Such a requirement was completely ridiculous. His rank should have superseded any orders they were able to issue. For them to require complete testing for something so simple and fleeting as a moment of anxiety was, in and of itself, a source of anxiety. He remained calm, though now genuinely worried. For a moment, he thought about exerting his seniority and forcing a challenge, but he opted to comply.
Without waiting for the attendant, he strode back into the building and, moving rapidly, headed up to one of the lifts and entered. The robot followed. He rode the lift up to the testing floor.
Here he paused, waiting for the attendant robot. This robot led him to one of the interview rooms and ushered him inside.
To his surprise, the room contained several other doctors, including Director Faust. Despite the implied severity of the situation, they greeted him with smiles. None of this made sense.
“Ah! Dr. Emerson,” said Director Falk. “Thank you for coming. We are quite worried about you. I personally overrode Central so I could check on you myself and have you brought here. Please, have a seat.”
Obediently, Jason sat in one of the plush chairs provided mostly for patients. The chairs were designed to embrace and were slightly heated. Normally, they were comforting. But Jason wasn’t comforted. Why so many attendants? Why the other doctors? How on earth had they assembled so quickly? It would be nearly impossible for them to be here on such short notice. Further, they seemed slightly on edge, uncertain. Jason’ heightened senses told him they were trying to hide something. Only the Director seemed entirely at ease. Jason saw something ugly flicker across the Director’s face before it changed into a look that seemed carefully crafted to evince concern. His entire demeanor rang false to someone so attuned to emotions in others. Jason may have been the only doctor capable of detecting both the trepidation and the false concern in the room.
He nodded politely. “Director.”
“How are you feeling, Jaso
n? We detected elevated levels of stress only fifteen minutes ago. Is something wrong?” Jason nearly laughed at such a loaded and obvious question, but a note of caution panged in his head. “Just had a moment of anxiety, Director. For no discernable reason. I must say I’m actually more nervous now than earlier. This is highly unusual.” Then, because he knew being blunt would be his best course of action, he said, “And, let’s be honest. A whole team of doctors greets me? That’s not normal.”
“I’ll admit, it is rather odd.” Faust chuckled. “Well, we cannot have one of our premier physicians breaking down. We depend on you quite a bit, Jason.”
An awkward silence followed, since Jason wasn’t willing to be led into anything.
Finally, the Director sat across from him and smiled. “You appear to be fine now, so perhaps we were overreacting. And your suit reports you’ve returned to normal levels. Seems like you are perfectly okay, and we needn’t have worried.” Again, a brief silence.
Director Emerson steepled his fingers over his mouth, affecting an air of nonchalance. “What upset you, Jason? Anything we should be concerned about?”
With a flash of insight, Jason knew what had triggered this whole episode. The panic attack provided an excuse to find out his level of concern with the permanency of the Council. They would have engineered a reason no matter what condition he’d been in. The real reason for his summons became apparent: his conversation in the washroom with Susan. Her paranoia somehow justified their actions. He knew he couldn’t hide the nature of the conversation with Susan, not totally. The Director already knew what they’d discussed and was clearly testing him by leading him to disclose his reasons for the panic.
Carefully, Jason sighed and let concern show on his face. “Nothing major, just a conversation with one of the other Medics. It worried me for a moment until I had a chance to get some air. Then I realized how silly I’d been behaving. Her whole point being a bit absurd, bordering on a little paranoia. I really don’t know why it bothered me so much, and I have to admit I had a moment of odd anxiety, which is completely unlike me.” Knowing they had surveillance, he added, “I even laughed at my idiocy about the conversation.” Let them think he laughed at his own folly and not as a reaction to the relief from the crushing tightness in his chest.
The Director looked at him keenly, his crafty gaze assessing the truth of Jason’s statement. When it became clear Jason had nothing more to add, he prompted, “But surely you felt genuine alarm. We saw your levels spike. What makes you think Susan’s comments were absurd?”
He hadn’t said the person he’d talked to had been Susan, validating his belief they knew about the conversation. “She talked about the tenure for the Council and voiced concern over how it would be viewed by the public, a concern I’m not sure I share. Mostly I became agitated when I found out there might be a new research project I’m not involved in and that it’s a secret. I’m anxious. I can’t help but wonder if my funds are going to be cut and my project shut down.” He let himself feel a mild wave of panic completely unrelated to the story he’d just shared. Surely they were reading him, gauging his emotions to discern the veracity of his statements. They might be crude in comparison to his own abilities, but they could detect some levels of worry if he let them.
The Director laughed, clearly relieved. “I’m glad you aren’t concerned over the tenure thing. I have confidence we can still ensure a proper balance of power if things get out of control. People would hardly allow anything to get too bad if abuses started to show up. The tenure is so the Council can focus on some long-range projects and effectively see them through. As our lifespans increase, thirteen years is just not enough time to work on major issues.”
Jason just nodded. The Director seemed satisfied with Jason’s answer, shifting the conversation to address Jason’s fabricated concern about his own research project.
“I wouldn’t worry about funding. We have plenty to spare for your invaluable research.” He grinned and reached over to pat one of Jason’s hands in a grandfatherly way. “This brings me to the point of this meeting, actually. We assembled a few minutes before your panic attack to talk about asking you to head up some of the new research. So, you see? Nothing strange about our little group getting together so quickly. It seems this worked out rather well, since we’d planned on talking to you anyway. We were on the verge of requesting you come up here when you went outside.”
Jason looked at him with a puzzled expression, not entirely sure about the motives being presented. He almost shook his head. This had to be Monica’s doing. Her paranoia had crept into him. “What research?”
Dr. Faust’s smile broadened. “Fascinating research, doctor. We have discovered a way to alter body processes to change physique. With a little fine-tuning, I believe we can make any of our subjects into their vision of the ideal. For a sum, of course. I leave it up to you to finalize the research and fine-tune any side-effects.”
Jason stared at him for a moment. “Alter the physique? To what extent? How did this come about? What research led to this?” He shook his head. “This is stunning, Director.”
“Isn’t it, though? All in good time, Jason. We can fill you in over the coming weeks. I need someone I can trust to help me with this. I can’t afford to have this getting out just yet. It’s too revolutionary. We can almost completely alter someone. Each of us could transform into whatever ideal we dreamed up. We’ll have to have a complete clinical trial, naturally. There are obvious security concerns, too, and other major issues we must still overcome. This leads us to require even more research.”
He stood up, inviting Jason to do the same. Shaking Jason’s hand, he smiled again. “We’ll talk about the project soon enough. Don’t worry about it too much,” and then, seeming to be almost an afterthought, he added, “and don’t let Susan get to you. We’ll talk with her and make sure she is okay with everything. I certainly don’t want her fretting about something so silly. I need her, too.”
“Sounds good, Director. Thank you.” Jason kept himself composed while the various doctors shook his hands and bid brief farewells. He let himself sigh in relief, but kept a tight rein on his emotions, not letting his nerves get the best of him lest his suit give him away.
Jason took the lift back down to the patient floor. As he walked down the hall, hospital personnel began informing him of patients who needed his attention, situations that required his input, and decisions he had to make. He quickly fell back into the pace of his work and forcefully put the conversation in the back of his mind.
Four
AS THE POPULATION OF EARTH swelled to over twenty-three billion, city boundaries crept inexorably in all directions, swallowing the natural world in deserts of asphalt and spires of steel and glass. The planet heated, weather became erratic, and oceans spun out storms like angry fits of rage.
Governments fought to sustain their power, attempted to supplant their neighbors, and fell under the weight of their own selfish greed.
A world in peril, wrought with fear and panic and war, had seemed doomed to falter and, ultimately, fail, destroyed either by a wildly imbalanced natural world or by the anger and resentful tribalism that nearly swallowed reason and compromise.
With each tick of the Doomsday clock toward the apocalyptic tone of midnight, technology struck a defiant chord, slowing the hands of time. Autonomy supplanted the inefficiency of governmental waste. Calculated alterations to production and distribution alleviated potential shortages of resources. Interconnected networks increasingly formulated solutions to problems, removing them from the slow and faulty thinking of the human mind.
Governments began to merge, to share power and responsibility over higher level decisions, leaving the increasingly vast details to the powers of the artificial intelligences that obeyed their wishes. This merging resulted in a single unified government of Earth: one governing body, called the Council of Earth.
Cities, too, had merged. Oceanic constructs that housed billions provid
ed room when land became scarce. Vast underground complexes further relieved the pressures of housing on the surface.
Fear of artificial intelligence kept |AI repressed, caging the potential of AI becoming self-aware and taking over. The need, however, did not stagnate. More powerful AI and more interconnected systems were essential to sustain growth.
To accomplish this, Techs were created. These human AI hybrids were capable of the vast powers of artificial intelligence, possessing the ability to think and react beyond the ability of the collective human existence, but had the crucial emotional bonds to humanity that prevented a takeover.
Transhuman entities, Techs were long-lived and possessed inhuman strength as well as powerful minds. They commanded every single aspect of technology given to them by the government. Born as human children, potential Techs were tested and merged with technology around the age of six when they became a mix of human and AI. Most did not live. Or they became insane. Only thirteen Techs arose from this great new experiment.
The Earth was then divided geographically into thirteen Sectors for the purpose of governance. One for each Tech to manage. Thirteen Council members were elected to govern over the thirteen Sectors. The Techs were hard-wired to obey the Council, an edict that was biologically and technologically impossible for them to break. This reassured humanity that a solution was in place, and that AI was no longer to be feared.
Over time, some of the Techs died or lost their minds to the WorldNet and could no longer distinguish reality. They were replaced, but there simply were not enough children capable of the nearly impossible task of merging with AI to sustain the number. Thirteen became twelve, which became eleven. After two-hundred years, only nine Techs were in full operation. The Sectors had to be reduced to nine to match the available Techs, but the Council remained at the original thirteen members.
Sector Seven Page 5
