by Phoenix Ward
certain whether a patient could be saved or not. It was easy for them to diagnose them as terminal and even estimate their remaining time, but there were just too many different combinations of treatments and variables that it would be impossible to accurately predict death. Within the last three decades, though, doctors are able to know months ahead of time when a patient goes past the point of being saved. At the crossing of the P.O.N.R., the patient is officially declared dead. The declaration just doesn’t come into effect until the moment the patient’s death was forecasted to occur. You went past that point, Chris.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question,” Chris said.
“I’m getting to that,” Dr. Harris explained. “You see, you were declared dead and when the moment came around that we had projected you would be dead, we read no vitals on you. Then, after less than an hour, your pulse began again, and voila! You were resurrected.”
The patient was baffled. He couldn’t help but sit upwards as he let the information sink in. His head felt a bit light and he was a little woozy, but he remained in the bed.
“How?” he asked.
“It’s a groundbreaking freak anomaly that has never been seen in medicine before,” the doctor continued. “Basically, you had a rare infection that we had somehow missed that infected the blood cells in your body. It laid latent during its entire lifespan rather than growing like almost every other untreated infection. At the point in which you should have perished, the infection was keeping your immune system fighting and therefore kept a good portion of your organs alive at a minimal operating level. It was undetectable to the naked eye, and since you had already passed your P.O.N.R., no one had bothered to look over it twice.”
“So this infection saved my life?” Chris asked.
Dr. Harris nodded. “That it did,” he said. “At least, until we realized our mistake and discovered that you were really still alive. With a course of antibiotics coupled with stem cell implants to replace your dead tissue, the infection was flushed out and here you are. Alive and healing.” The doctor seemed to glow with a bit of emotion at this.
Chris sat back down in the bed and looked up at the ceiling. He expelled a loud sigh. “Jesus,” he said. He was having difficulty with the news he had received and seemed to be having a little anxiety attack. “I can’t believe I almost died. I can’t believe it.” He put his palms over his face.
“I’ll give you a moment,” Dr. Harris said. “Your mother has been alerted to your recovery and she is already on her way. She should be here shortly.”
Chris said nothing in response as the doctor saw his way out of the hospital room.
Gloria couldn’t believe her eyes when she walked into the hospital room that she was sure she would never return to again. Her son was alive and he gazed at her with excited eyes from under his head bandage.
“Oh, Chris,” she said. She couldn’t hold back her tears for the second time that day and rushed to the bed to hug her son. Chris gave a sore chuckle as he embraced his mother. “I can’t believe you’re alright.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Chris said.
“I love you so much, sweetie,” Gloria sobbed.
“I love you too, Mom,” Chris replied. He couldn’t help getting teared up himself.
After they stared at each other and hugged more, Gloria’s face fell into severity. “There’s something that I have to tell you, about when we thought you had passed away.”
Chris had been deep in thought ever since his mother left. He had so many questions billowing within him and he couldn’t find an outlet through which to vent it out. When Dr. Harris came into the room to check on his discomfort, he felt prepared for some answers.
“Doctor,” Chris started. The physician turned his magnified eyes to his patient. “Do you know much about installed intelligences?”
“Of course,” Dr. Harris replied. “Its practice is partially medicine, so most physicians are at least trained in the use of a neuroscoptic recorder.” He set down his charts and took a seat at his rolling office chair. “What did you want to know?”
“Everything,” Chris said. “I want to know what that thing is that my mother has been calling ‘Chris.’”
“Well, installed intelligences were invented over thirty years ago,” Dr. Harris explained. “Before then, all scientists were able to do was create complicated artificial intelligences out of the electrical data collected from dying patients. In those days, there were no federal regulations on the use of a person’s neuroscoptic information. People would create detailed A.I.s that would emulate their personalities, but they were only mere imitations and were often riddled with inaccuracies. Sometimes a person would exaggerate qualities about themselves, and other times they were just not very self aware. These A.I.s were unreliable as a depiction of a human mind. They were inferior.
“When programmers were truly able to capture a person’s intelligence and turn it into software that can be communicated with, I.I.s were born. Their first use was to create a sort of ‘living library’ out of the I.I.s of important figures. Presidents, CEOs, social leaders, and scientists were stored in a massive government database in order to preserve infallible first-hand accounts. Now, we were able to hear from the U.N.’s Hazzyit Ahman himself about how Security Council talks unfolded before the start of World War III. Dr. Stephen McGormick was able to explain his Law of Subliminal Perception Education. With I.I.s, we had a true source of incorruptible information. History was no longer conjecture.
“Then, the idea of opening up the installation process to the general public came up almost a decade ago. It was presented as an evolution of human spirituality -- rather than bury the dead or cremating them, one’s ‘soul’ could remain with their loved ones, guiding them to everlasting enlightenment. This presented an opposition to tradition, however, which was the principal pillar to many religions. I’m sure you remember the protests?”
“You mean riots?” Chris commented.
“Still, it could have been much worse,” Dr. Harris continued. “It ended up being a non-issue. The ones who are able to afford the expensive installation process are such a small number that most people are still mourned in the old ways. But as technology continues to advance, the process becomes cheaper and therefore more widely available. We shall see what issues that will spur.”
Chris was listening, but he looked out of the window of his hospital room at one of the Flight For Life helicopters setting down on a nearby landing pad.
“Most of Social Security is funded by the proceeds of installation, these days,” the doctor explained. “Whether they know it or not, most of its opposition benefits from it.”
“I guess what I really wanted to know,” Chris started, his eyes still pointed out of the room, “is if that I.I. is really me. You know?”
“Well, by all scientific and legal definitions, it is,” Dr. Harris explained. “Everything that makes up your personality is in that computer program.”
“So it can remember things I remember?” Chris asked. “Even things I had never told anyone before?”
Dr. Harris nodded. “Any memories you have, every emotion, and even psychological tendencies are included in your I.I.,” he said.
“So, doctor,” Chris started, figuring out how to word his question, “does that mean there are two of me?”
Dr. Harris took a long moment to think. He wanted to be sure that he didn’t mislead his patient with an answer, but he also could not lie to him. With hesitation, he gave a short nod. “Yes it does,” he said.
Chris sat back in his bed and took in a deep breath. He looked up at the ceiling as he contemplated the concept. “Wow,” he said. He looked back down at his physician. “What does this mean for me?”
“I’m not sure,” Dr. Harris replied. “This is the first time this has ever happened.”
Chris jolted a little when the nurse knocked and then entered his room without waiting for a reply. She could see that he was startled and she offered him an apologetic cou
ntenance.
“How are you feeling?” she asked him.
“Sore, but much better. Fine, really,” he answered, feeling his face with his fingers to assess his own reply. “When can I get out of here?”
“Soon,” the nurse said. “Not long at all. But first, there is a man from one of the news channels here to speak with you. Are you feeling up to having a visitor?”
Chris’s face was confused, but interested. He nodded. “Sure,” he replied. “Thank you.”
“Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked before leaving. “Water? Some food?”
“Water sounds great, actually.”
The nurse gave a little pleased bow before stepping out of the hospital room and telling whoever was waiting outside that they could go in.
A young, tall man wearing an unzipped bomber jacket and jeans entered the room, carrying a small leather briefcase with him. He took a seat in the chair before saying anything as the patient watched him get acclimated. Then he looked up and acknowledged Chris.
“Mr. Santson, my name is Kyle Chandra,” he introduced himself. “My colleagues and I at WWSC-TV caught wind of your case and found it particularly appealing. We wanted to ask if you might be interested in a feature being made about you and your I.I.”
“A feature?” Chris asked. “What do you mean?”
“As you might know, our outlet is the one of the leaders in
