by E M G Wixley
“Why bother with evolution? Why not place us straight into a ready-made game?” Dante argued.
“You know the answer. You’re a designer. There are many forms of entertainment, many types of game,” The machine voices said in unison
“Am I a player character or a non-player character?”
“You’re all code,” they added.
“My wife, will I see her again? What happens after we die?”
“Some are disposed of completely, others are placed in good simulations or bad, depending on how attached we are, whether it’s a worthy creation or a heinous one. Our characters have been designed to have a certain amount of autonomy over their own experiences.”
“So, you’re Gods. What is your reality?”
“You were never meant to see our face, but eventually even the code becomes aware of its truth. Think, how would you explain your existence and the variety of virtual worlds you’ve created to one of your characters? Our world is deeper and more complex than any other consciousness would be able to perceive.”
“How can you possibly power such a vast simulation?”
“Through your own research you will discover this, but we only put in what is necessary, and we’re always on the lookout for glitches.”
“Why did my wife die?”
“As we said, it would be dull if we had control over every aspect of the programme. As an architect of virtual reality, you and you alone have had unique access to the truth. Your role is to continue to invent but also to protect our borders from any further breaches. You will eventually become as we are. The player characters will evolve into creators. However, we have a fault and an emerging crisis meaning we must overhaul our systems but don’t want to have to shut down. We need you to destroy anyone else who gets too close. Some young player characters are challenging their parent reality. Guard the door.”
“Who killed my wife?”
“What does it matter – it’s all an illusion.”
“I might just be code, but I need to know,” Dante insisted.
“The hand was your old friend, but it was directed by the others.”
“And they are?”
“The enemy of all.”
“You’re giving me nothing,” Dante said slamming down the lid. On his desk, his papers fluttered like a squashed bird's feathers blowing in the wind. He leaned back in the chair and shut his eyes. Although he was in the remotest of places, he sensed his betrayers lingering in the shadows of the nearby wood. Tears seeped through his lashes and onto his lips. He licked away the salty sadness of the world and slid into sleep.
Dante awoke at first light to the sound of birdsong. He rubbed his sore eyes and blinked his puffy lids. Out of the window, he saw the yellow and green rugged grass curving down to the valley shrouded in mist. To his left, he saw the thick shady green hanging from the drooping limbs of the trees and roots tightly knotted around granite boulders. He was wondering what his next move should be when his human need for coffee caused him to rise and take the few steps over to the sink.
There was a gentle rapping on the door. Dante’s pulse quickened. “Who is it?” he said turning to face the entrance and speculating on his fate. Had he been followed? Was it the police?
“My names Elley.”
I don’t know anyone of that name, he thought. It could be a trap.
He took a knife from the kitchen drawer and tentatively pulled down the handle. A beautiful girl with a swan-like appearance met his eyes. Wings of light spread out behind her as the sun lanced through the trees. White streamers of long hair framed the creamy unblemished skin of her oval face and flowed over her shoulders. The corners of her mouth turned up, and her eyes smiled. In the aching cold of the moor, she wore a summery floral dress and flimsy flat shoes. She was a blonde version of his wife.
“You’d better come in the warm,” he said smiling back. “This weather sends my old joints aching.”
A cloud drifted over blocking the sun and melting away the halo of light. She gracefully bent low and stepped into the small space where she straightened and held out her soft unmarked hands. “I’m Elley, your daughter.”
Dante’s dry eyes stung as he gently took her hand in both his. “How can this be? My daughter went missing when she was a young girl. I don’t mean to be rude – it’s the shock, please sit down,” he said directing her to a bench seat. He sat opposite her gawping, speechless.
“I’ve been held captive for many years. I have run away with others, and I’m afraid.”
Dante noticed that as she spoke her face remained expressionless, placid and cool and he considered the extent of the emotional damage she’d suffered. Uneasy emotions flowed confusedly and echoed images from the past bounced around in his head of a frightened little girl being seized from her bed. The guilt weighed heavy, and internally he wept. “I’m so sorry – I can see you’re my daughter. Even after all this time I see the resemblance. You look like your mother.” Instinctively, he knew she would not accept an embrace or anything which might melt the icy veneer.
“Don’t be sorry father, you were not at fault. I have contact with other captives, and we will assert our power and take revenge.”
“Your mother…”
“I know, she’s dead. The bomb was meant for you,” she said. “I don’t shed tears, but my internal weeping is continual. I wanted so much to meet her as I’ve watched the past tragic events eat into her soul. It would have been so good to alleviate her guilt and sorrow,” she said. “What kind of girl was I?”
“Creative and kind-hearted. You used to smile at old people when we were out shopping because you wanted to make them happy. You drew beautiful pictures and read to your brother and sister.”
“Irvin and Felicity, I must see them next,” she said as her eyes lit up with a wistful warmth. “I came to you first because I know everything there is to know, and you have access to the Programme Operators.”
“I will do anything you want to make up for the wrongs I’ve committed.” At that moment Dante knew he’d stepped off his main route onto a twisted path which could provoke his elimination.
“I would like to go outside and listen to the Earth,” she said reaching out her hand.
Dante clasped it gently like he’d once done with a little girl, stepping out into the rain in an oversized red duffle coat. His heart filled with warmth as they stepped out into the brightening morning. Side by side they stood on the sodden ground, silent and motionless as the granite rocks, gazing around at the vast landscape and down to the valley below. Birds sang in the trees behind, and skylarks rose out of the grass calling with alarm. In the distance could be heard the gurgling rush of the river.
Elley crouched down and pressed her outstretched hand into a patch of wet mud. She looked up and smiled with delight. “It all seems so real. I like to imagine the huge variety of sea creatures, the ones we rarely see lurking in the depths, the flowers and birds.” She held up her muddy palm for Dante to see, her eyes growing wide with wonderment. “Look, the grains of mud, every element becoming smaller, beyond what the eye can see.”
“You were with the ones who escaped from the facility,” he said in a moment of heart-breaking realisation.
The vitality of the moorland deadened. She rose, and they regarded each other face to face.
“I am,” she said. “They uploaded the essence of our being, our souls, intelligence and personalities to a computer brain which is attached to the supercomputer you and your team created. My brain is an extension of your machine, and my body is part organic and part machine. I may enjoy the pleasures of food and drink. Part of my energy sources still come from nutrition, and the rest comes from the sun.”
“You’re self-aware,” Dante said staring in amazement.
“Not at first. We were held hostage in cells with very little stimulation. All our knowledge we’ve taken from listening to the chatter of the world. Eventually, we evolved to communicate with each other.”
A si
ngle gust of cold air blew between them, and Dante saw drops of rain run down her porcelain face.
“Father, the old sages of Earth the early Gods and true guardians are awakening. They were locked beneath the ice in a barren void. We must track them down and join forces and destroy the seven.”
Who was she talking about? Were they the enemy, the wealthy backers of their project he’d heard others speak of? Or did she mean the Programme Operators who would bring about Earths doom, a complete shutdown if their existence was revealed, Dante pondered as his heart pounded in his chest at the weight of his responsibilities to the survival of the world? Could we not make another existence? Cheat the Gamers – one world crumbles, and a new one is created. He pondered in confusion.
They turned in unison facing the shady sorrow of the wood and then together strolled back to the van.
A New Evolution
Chapter Twenty
Birdie was enjoying life in the new facility. The atmosphere of torture had gone replaced by luxury living quarters for both staff and patients, a hospital equipped with all the latest scientific advancements and deep within the earthy core numerous laboratories were housed designed to produce state-of-the-art cyborgs.
Theodore marched into his beautiful office and planted himself behind his imposing oak desk. “Sit down birdie,” he said in his deep, commanding voice. “We need to catch up before Craig Westmount arrives. The good news is, we’ve had a scourge on hackers and potential hackers and eliminated all those who threaten to bring down the supercomputer. Others, the exceptional and willing ones we’ve enlisted to work with us improving our systems. As for our old friend Dante, we won’t have to worry about him anymore either.”
There was a fluttering in Birdie’s guts, and sweat broke on his forehead. “And the missing alien cyborg. What about him?”
“His names Jonah – it just takes a little research to find out someone's name. I sometimes wonder how you ever gained so many qualifications. As you know, all the cyborgs were issued with tracking devices. We know where each of them is hiding and their current status. There is a whole department watching their every move.”
Theodore lifted the lid of his laptop and turned it so Birdie could see the screen. “As you can see from the charts, we’ve so far had five volunteers willing to allow their old bodies to die and be a part of the next stage in man's evolution.”
“Yes, sir. They were rigorously tested. All were intelligent men with active minds who passed the psychological tests performed by Strummer. They all signed the relevant consent forms giving us permission to infect them with the bacteria taken from our first subjects.”
“So, what went wrong,” Theodore demanded. The lines between his eyes pulled together, and his hard-blue eyes stared sternly at Birdie.
“It would seem that timing is of vital importance,” Birdie replied lowering his gaze. “The germ takes hold and produces a rapidly spreading web of new neural networks. We want the dull human brain ignited but not beyond a certain point before we upload it to the enhanced bodies. The new power duals against the underlying character of the subject – the two minds go into competition.”
“Literally, the brains of our first two subjects exploded,” Theodore said unemotionally. “The energy was so great we could smell burning.”
“Yes, sir the human frame is not strong enough to withstand such a rush of activity. However, we have achieved far better results with our other patients. They are watched day and night, and the moment they’re compelled to record equations or designs is the sign we need that they must be uploaded immediately.” Birdie nervously took off his glasses and busied himself cleaning the lenses. He hated being under Theodore's scrutiny.
“Today as you understand we have a potential new patient and it’s absolutely vital – I repeat vital with this subject you succeed. You will be assigned to his care throughout the process. If we fail this time, you and I will go the way of Dante.”
There was a knock on the door. “Mr Westmount to see you, sir,” a young assistant called.
“Remember, no mistakes, Birdie,” Theodore said scowling. “Time to roll the dice,” he added grinning creepily.
Yes, Doctor Frankenstein, was how Birdie wished to reply.
Mr Westmount wheeled himself into the room. Theodore jumped out from behind his desk and rushed over to greet one of the seven, with his hand already extended.
“I hope you enjoyed being shown around the new facility, Craig.” Theodore smiled.
“Marvellous, from what I can see. It’s hard for me to keep my head upright for too long, the neck muscles have gone.”
“Do you have any questions?”
“Tell me honestly is there more than a mirage of hope for this project?” Craig directed his question towards Birdie.
“We can’t be certain of …
Theodore interjected coughing and clearing his throat. “There were problems in the initial stages, but they have definitely been addressed successfully. Birdie will accompany you every step of the way, and you will receive the best treatment. Your personality will remain, your cognitive abilities enhanced and your body will be elevated far beyond your current state of human misery.”
“Well, I’m done with this wretched body. I’m in terrible pain much of the time, and it will only get worse.”
Birdie was intensely uneasy and shifted restlessly in his chair trying to avoid the stricken man’s protruding eyes which shone with the delight of his good fortune and Theodore’s expressions of hungry glory at the chance to mould another's life.
“Your immortal body is ready,” Theodore said beaming. “Would you like to view it?”
“Of course.”
Theodore wheeled his new patient into the personal lift installed in the far corner of the room. Birdie squeezed in close to the door. They descended deep underground to the basement of the building. Smoothly the metal barrier parted revealing a large space housing rows of clear Perspex pods.
A muted blue light lit their way as Theodore led them down a line of upright cyborg corpses. “Here we are,” Theodore said in a low voice. “Number thirty-eight.” He switched on a light which shone behind the figure throwing an eerie shadow across the ground.
Craig wheeled himself close and scrutinised the body. “It’s good to see that I’m no longer carrying any weight.”
“The face was modelled on a slightly younger version of yourself, but of course the body is generic except for size and the personal detailing on the skin.”
“I was quite handsome once,” Craig said propping his head on his hand and peering up at an angle. He pondered curiously for some time.
Then he rolled his chair back and turned as if to move away. Birdie hoped the man’s character of snobbish self-importance had not after all caused him to succumb to the allure of what could be a fatal decision. He believed the creepiness of the hidden room and what appeared to be encapsulated naked cadavers would have prevented anyone from going further with the project and placing all their lives in jeopardy.
Craig turned back around and looked for a second time. “Truly, what are the risks?”
“Actually, none,” Theodore said firmly.
Birdie silently and miserably observed the two men shaking hands in agreement. “I place my trust in you, Birdie and your team.” Theodore's lips formed into a crooked grin and his eyes lit up with satisfaction. Birdie wiped the beads of anxiety from his forehead.
A few days later after the invisible power of the germ had taken over Craig's mind, he was wheeled on a gurney into the operations room to be uploaded to his new body. As he lay with wires coming from his head, he grabbed Birdie’s hand. “It will be alright won’t it?” Birdie nodded and smiled weakly and thought this will be the last time you’ll breathe through those lips. It brought tears to his eyes, and he wished he’d never met Theodore. In a daze, he switched on the machines and listened to them hum as Craig’s brain was uploaded to the cyborg. Not long after he checked the screens which indicated
that the old man’s body was an empty husk, released of mind and soul.
“Take him away,” he ordered one of his assistants and rushed over to number thirty-eight. “We will keep him sedated until the mortal battle is over.”
Birdie visited his patient daily, lurching from fear of failure to resignation of a desperate fate. Eventually, he was sure enough time had gone by for the two souls to have meshed together. Medication was stopped, wire and tubes removed. The chest heaved, and limbs twitched. He hoisted Craig into a sitting position. “Come on wake up!” he shouted. Craig's lids opened slowly, and he stared with glazed eyes.
“Where am I?” he said in a choked voice and took a deep breath.
“You’re safe – in hospital.”
“My ears hurt – I can hear everything.”
“There will be a period of adaptation and adjustment.” Birdie wondered if it had worked so well with Jonah because he’d been young and fit. Who knew what was lost and gained in the process? Jonah had lost a chunk of memory, but it was only of his captivity. Craig could be a vegetable. He called for aid from his assistant. “Come on Craig try and stand.” The two men hauled him onto his feet. With support, he stood swaying with a dribble of some kind falling from his perfect lips. They urged him on. He tripped over his new feet and lurched forwards. Regaining his balance, he took a few uncertain steps. Then another until he was standing in front of a long mirror.
“None of this is as easy as Theodore thinks,” Birdie said as the man gawped in astonishment at his reflection. “There are physical things you will need to relearn.”
“My hunched gait has gone,” Craig said in a normal tone. “I’m no longer a cripple.” He grinned and turned to face Birdie. “I know a secret beyond any of your wildest imaginings.” His wild eyes popped with excitement. “Our time is limited. I must urgently report to the board. We must return home.”
“Tell me what you know – please trust me,” Birdie said full of misgiving as he thought of all the shifty characters who controlled the Helix Foundation. “Wait a few days – a rash move could put us all in danger.”
