by Aaron Dennis
****
The following day, everyone met at the funeral home. Heisler stood outside, looking at the building, while others made their way in. Feels like I was just at one of these. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted.
“Hey, Steven. Holding up okay,” Johnny asked.
“Sure enough. Thanks for coming by.”
“Let’s go inside.”
Beyond the foyer, friends and family gathered to listen to the eulogy and give their respects. Many of them cried. Heisler spotted some of his cousins. Richard, and his wife Helen, Michelle was there, and some younger cousins. Michelle spoke to Heisler’s father for some time, during which Richard found his way over to Heisler.
“Hey, Stevie. Sorry about your mom,” he said, straightening his tie.
“Thanks, and it’s Steven.”
“Hey, Helen, come here. Say hello to Steven,” Richard called out.
Helen touched his arm, and giving a sympathetic smile, she spoke, “We’re here for you.”
Here for me. I guess that’s what Greta wanted to hear. I was there, wasn’t I? I was her lover. I was at the funeral home. He smiled back.
“Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure, anything you want,” Helen accepted.
“How’s work? I heard you guys are buying a new house or something,” Heisler asked.
“Condo, actually, but great. I sold about a dozen new models off the lot last month. Big, big, commissions,” Richard beamed.
“Oh? How much,” Heisler probed.
“No, nah,” Richard deflected with brash motions of the hands. “I don’t wanna’ talk figures.”
“Come on, it must be a lot if–”
Richard took his cousin by the elbow and walked him away in a huff. Nonplussed, Heisler gawked at Helen as her husband had a momentary fit. She shrugged knowingly.
“What’s the matter with you?” Richard demanded.
“Get your hand off me, Richard.”
“Sorry,” he let go and calmed down. “Look, I don’t want her to know how much I make. She’ll want to spend it all on vacations or shoes.”
And there it is…the human condition. “That’s your wife. You married that woman.”
“Yeah, of course, but she’s not exactly good with money,” Richard joked.
Heisler smiled, “Apologies. Go enjoy yourself…or whatever.”
Richard sauntered off, leaving Heisler to his thoughts. A man is afraid that if his wife knows how much he makes, he will have to spend the money, but he doesn’t have to. He can refuse. Then, he must be afraid that she’ll be upset, and he doesn’t want to deal with the consequence of refusing her the money, so he lies. Next, you have a woman, who obviously appreciates the finer things in life. She marries a man, and wants to spend his money, even though he’s the one working for it…both are compromising. Both are settling. Neither one has exactly what they want. So why are they married? The human condition. Ridiculous.
“Steven?” Mister Heisler jolted his son from reverie. Johnny was with him. They motioned to come pay last respects. Steven obliged and approached the open casket. His aged mother lay motionless, flowers clutched in her hands. Is this how they want to remember her? I prefer her smiles. “Say something,” Mister Heisler demanded.
“I’ll always love you, Mother,” he said and meant it.
“We’ll never forget you,” Johnny added.
Who is going to remember her when all of us, who never forget, are dead? Heisler wondered. His dad gave an imploring look.
“What is it?”
“Son…I’m just worried that with all your work, no wife, no kids…well,” he trailed off.
Heisler looked to Johnny, who said, “Family moment,” then snuck away in overly mocked drama.
“Dad?”
“Steven, I hate saying this to you, but…who is going to show up to your funeral? Who will remember you when you’re gone?” he asked, nearly brought to tears by his own verbal onslaught. “Listen, I want you to understand, I’m not yelling at you. I just think you’re a wonderful boy, who works too hard. Do you understand?”
Heisler smiled before replying, “Dad, when I’m gone, I won’t know if anyone remembers me or not. I won’t care…because I’m dead. What I do know is that my legacy, my life’s work—robotics—will never fade. I don’t need to be remembered. I need to be immortalized.”
Mister Heisler sniffed, rubbed his eyes, and excused himself. Michelle approached.
“Everything all right?”
“It’s a funeral. People always get emotional. It was nice seeing you, but I have work to do,” Heisler said.
Since conversations were coming to an end, he simply stepped outside. It was late in the afternoon. Wispy clouds rolled in overhead.
“Leaving already,” Johnny asked from the entryway.
Heisler turned to him and answered, “You’ve been a good friend to me. I don’t know why…I’ll see you around, John.”
Heisler walked off, leaving his friend in shock. “Let me give you a ride or something,” he called out.
Heisler was already on his phone, calling for a cab. In mere moments, the yellow sedan was coming up the road. After entering, he directed the driver to his dad’s house, and off they went. Once they arrived, he gathered his belongings, and climbed back into the cab. He looked out the window for a moment. The aging two-story was appropriate. This might be where I came from, but not where I belong.
“All set,” the cabby asked.
“Airport.”
“Sure.”
Productivity
The months following, two points of interest had Heisler feeling abnormally nervous—the completion of the new MRC and final tests on Mittins. At the lab, the science team met with a VP from RoboCo, the company interested in mass-producing the Mittins MRC for worldwide distribution.
The aging, blonde beauty fluffed her hair while addressing everyone, “So, what we’re seeing is an inherent need to manipulate the immediate surroundings as well as a need to explore. The MRC’s travel can be limited by updating its Control Program. In other words, sending bits of data indicating that the robot has traveled far enough.
“While this is effective, the MRC becomes lethargic. After reaching optimal distance, say…the edge of the yard, it just sits there, even if called. Someone literally has to retrieve it and reboot it.”
“I’m not surprised,” Colette stated.
“Neither am I,” Dekker blurted out. “You have to alter the optimal distance program. It sounds like the cat thinks it has accomplished everything. I mean, why else would it go all Rip-Van-Winkle?”
Colette’s ears twitched; a sign that she was intrigued. “As I was trying to say,” she started slowly. “What the MRC requires is something to engage its awareness…possibly some sort of toy, which is linked via Bluetooth, and allows updates upon completion of certain puzzles, tasks, etc. It needs to be able to continue learning while in its immediate environment.”
“I suppose we can try something like that,” the VP agreed.
“What about manipulating objects? You were saying something about that earlier,” Heisler questioned.
“Yes. House cats already learn to pull open cabinet doors, flush toilets, bat at the sink to drink, but Mittins is taking this to a much more complicated level,” the VP replied. “Apparently, he’s been flipping lights on and off, unplugging things from walls, changing television channels with remotes, and grouping things together…things, which do not appear related.”
“So, it’s learning, adapting. That’s what we expected,” Jenkins said.
“Well, so far, everything does look fine. These pre-lim tests always yield strange results. We’ll schedule another meeting for the end of the following month,” the VP announced.
Following her departure, the team turned to present matters. “We’re ready,” Jenkins said.
“I agree. Franklin’s shown tremendous potential,” Dekker chirped.
Colette simply nodd
ed. Heisler did as well.
“Alright, then, Dekker, you go ahead and prep Franklin. I’ll get my guys to bring the new MRC to the operation room,” Heisler ordered.
“I’ll notify the security team,” Colette stated and left.
“We’re activating after placing him in the holding chamber, right?” Jenkins fretted.
“Naturally. I mean….” Dekker grinned from ear-to-ear. “He might go ape shit.”
They all cracked smiles. “Alright. Meet in the operation room in two hours,” Heisler announced.
“You got it,” Jenkins agreed.
They broke away to prep. While Heisler’s engineers strapped the MRC to the table and wheeled it out, Colette assembled the campus, security team. It was a safety precaution in the event that Franklin broke beyond the steel bars. Jenkins went straight to the operations room. There, he signed to Franklin, indicating the procedure was at hand.
The ape communicated via a program, which allowed Franklin the choice of several signs. Once the signs were chosen, the main frame storing Franklin’s awareness spoke via a translation program.
“Ape, move, see, home,” the computer said.
Jenkins signed back, indicating a procedure to give him a new home was underway.
“Ape, see, home, soon,” the computer said.
Elsewhere, Dekker snagged the hand held failsafe device. Before joining the team in the operation room, he went out for a smoke. Heisler spotted him from the parking lot and approached.
“What were you doing,” Dekker pried.
“Phone charger,” Heisler answered.
“We good?”
“Should be. You have the kill switch?”
“Yep,” Dekker chirped. “How do you think this will turn out?” Heisler shrugged, gave a subtle headshake then smiled. “Not even a little nervous, are you?”
“I’ll see you inside,” Heisler smiled.
Nervous? Is that what this is? In the operation room, the four team leaders met. At the center of the room, built into the wall, the massive mainframe was hard linked to a steel construct, the MRC, which was still strapped to a gurney-like table with wheels. Colette held a digital camera to record the proceedings.
“So, step one, we attach these cables to the corresponding ports,” Dekker stated. “Now, a series of programs will replicate in the MRC’s Control Program, its mind, if you will.”
“Replicate,” Colette said. “Tell us what that means.”
“As you well know, though the laymen may not,” Dekker started. “The original brainwaves were uploaded to the mainframe, but it’s impossible to do so without frying the gray matter. Once the brainwaves are deconstructed, fragmented, and reassembled, they function as a brain, via the mainframe’s Control Program, or CP.
“What we’re doing now is actually uploading copies of those waves and keeping the originals in the mainframe, but stored outside the CP. The copies, in the new MRC, and subsequently new CP, will have no idea that a transfer from one CP to another has occurred, and until we activate the MRC, it has no way to come to that understanding.”
There was nothing overly flashy about the operation, other than the actual MRC.
“Doctor Heisler, tell us what it is you’ve created, here,” Colette requested. “This doesn’t look quite like an ape.”
“No. There’s no need for two eyes,” Heisler explained. “The optics can determine distance without the need for split perception. There’s no mouth or nose built into the Titanium head.
“The most complicated changes are in the limbs. Naturally, this MRC needed to be just similar enough that Franklin maintained his identity as an ape, but different enough to elicit new behavior not normally exhibited by an ape.”
“What are those changes?”
Jenkins grew uneasy and interrupted, “Will he still be able to sign?”
They all exchanged looks. “He won’t have to,” Dekker answered. “I installed the speech program you’ve been utilizing for conversation.”
“Franklin’s going to be able to talk?” Jenkins was flabbergasted.
“Not exactly. He’ll be able to pick and choose from the signs, and the speaker will echo the words, just like now,” Heisler clarified. “Other than that, I re-worked the joints, so they can move in 360 degrees, installed extension bars, so he can reach farther, and provided small wheels in the base of his feet, which he can choose to use, but isn’t obligated.”
“That’s some fancy work, Heisler,” Jenkins grinned.
The process of uploading, digital compiling, and subsequent relocation of the hardware, took close to three hours. The entire ordeal, though complex, was little more than pressing a button on a computer.
In a specially designed room at the rear of the engineering department, everyone, including security, MIT’s President, and the department heads presiding over funding, came to watch the mechanical ape’s activation. Heisler unbound the creature then stepped through the cell door to join the rest on the safe side of the room.
“Everyone set,” Dekker asked. “Here we go.”
He clicked the failsafe, which doubled as a remote starter. For a second, nothing happened and quiet whispers passed around the room. Dekker snickered.
“It takes a second, fellas’.”
Then the MRC stirred. Gasps washed over the crowd. Heisler and Dekker shared a glance. A sudden clamor exploded. Franklin flung himself off the table, limbs flailing in every direction.
“Scared, scared, scared,” the robotic voice repeated.
“Calm down, everyone. He’s just surprised,” Heisler announced.
“Say, when, and I’ll hit the override,” Dekker exclaimed.
“Wait! Jenkins, talk to him,” Heisler ordered.
“Franklin!” Jenkins called out while signing. “Franklin, it’s me, Jenkins. Listen to me. You need to calm down. Home, Franklin, you want to see home, right?”
The MRC continued writhing around, seemingly unable to compose itself, or gain control over its new body. The small wheels popped into and out of the base of the feet.
“Everyone, stand back,” security personnel demanded.
“Damn it, Heisler. What is this,” one of the department heads asked.
“Just relax,” Heisler answered.
“The same thing happened with Mittins,” Dekker added.
“Not quite to this extent, though,” Colette corrected. “Dekker, shut it down.”
“Let Jenkins handle it,” Heisler howled.
The MRC, bringing itself upright, stopped saying scared for a second, and observed Jenkins. He made the signs for stay calm, and we go home. Then, Franklin flung itself at the steel bars, and in a spinning, uncontrolled fashion, repeatedly beat expensive limbs against them.
Jenkins’ face fell apart, and nearly brought to tears, he tried to calm Franklin down. It was to no avail.
“Get everyone out,” security ordered.
“Hold on. It takes time,” Heisler rebutted.
“Heisler,” someone yelled. “Shut it down.”
The doctor had tunnel vision. Unable to comprehend anything other than the sight of the berserk robot, he clenched his fists. The rapid and potent beating of steel against steel was unnerving. What’s wrong with everyone, and what’s wrong with the ape. It has no heart for rapid palpitations…it can’t produce condroitins. He stared in wonder.
“Oh my God. Dekker, the bars are coming apart. Shut it down,” Colette ordered.
Heisler locked eyes with Dekker, strode over, and snatched the kill switch. “Just give it a minute!”
Security started forcing people out of the room, but Heisler pulled away. He stared at the furious ape-machine. Jenkins did nothing. He simply slumped to his knees making the signs for friend over and over. With a violent snap, one of the bars came loose. Coming to his senses, Heisler hit the switch. Franklin seized up, fell over with a clank, and remained motionless.
“I don’t understand what happened,” he mumbled.
“All of
you! In my office,” the President snapped.
The walk and elevator ride to the office was brisk. Tensions mounted with every step. In the office, the President stood behind his desk, hands placed on the table’s edge to steady his weight. He was a thin, old man with white hair.
“Heisler,” he grumbled. “What did you think you were doing?”
“We need as much data as possible,” Heisler retorted. “Even now, we can retrieve everything the CP perceived. We can learn what made it so…uncomfortable and move forwards.”
“I seriously doubt anything is moving forwards,” the President countered.
“Doctor Kessler, please,” Colette begged.
“You four are going to clean this mess up. Once you’ve done that, we can speak again, but be forewarned, Project Human is likely going to be disassembled.”
“Sir, how can we move forwards and solve problems without data?” Dekker intervened. “Naturally, there will be minor glitches. We took all necessary precautions, and no one got hurt.”
“This time,” the President said while glaring at Heisler. “Now, get out of my sight!”
In the hallway, the four members of Project Human looked each other over. “It’s going to be fine, Jenkins,” Colette comforted.
He smiled meekly then touched each of his fingertips to his thumbs. First, fingers from the same hand, then each finger to the opposite thumb. While he repeated the maneuver, Heisler and Dekker scrutinized each other.
“Why’d you snatch the failsafe from me?” Dekker accosted.
“I wanted to wait till the last possible second before doing anything rash,” Heisler replied.
“What you did was rash. If you hadn’t compromised us, Kessler might not be so pissed,” Dekker countered. “Now, we stand to lose everything.”
“Not a chance. We essentially proved that this works. We just need to deliver a more…stable package. A human in Franklin’s situation would have told us what the problem was, instead of crying scared repeatedly, and trying to break everything,” Heisler stated.
They looked to Colette. “I think you’re right, Heisler,” she announced. “Where do you want to start?”
“Dekker and I will isolate the CP and wire it back through the mainframe. Perhaps, placing Franklin in a known environment will help us to help him communicate with Jenkins regarding the experience,” he announced.
“Sounds good,” Dekker agreed.
They broke again to handle whatever portion of the mess to which each was better suited. Colette and Jenkins dealt with the on campus public relations involving those who sat in on the project. Dekker and Heisler tackled the technical aspects.
A rash decision
It was days later that they all met in the operations room. Jenkins tried to communicate with Franklin, but the ape gave no response.
“His readings are normal. I don’t see anything wrong,” Dekker stated.
“Well, something’s wrong. He won’t communicate,” Jenkins fired back.
The programmer shrugged in futility and claimed, “It isn’t anything on our end.”
“All the systems are fine…he’s just unresponsive,” Heisler said.
“I don’t like this…I don’t know where you plan to go from here, but,” Jenkins trailed off, avoiding eye contact.
He left the room, so they looked to Colette. “Supposing we aren’t shut down, or even diverted, where do you intend to go from here,” she asked.
Heisler looked her over before answering, “Forwards. We need a person in there to get real results. Perhaps, instead of dealing with altered physical structures, we just utilize a standard robotic form, something human in design.”
“You must be losing it, Heisler,” Colette growled.
He arched a brow, asking, “Why? You have no reason to be upset. Just recently, you were onboard.”
“With the idea, yes. You can’t force a person into this situation. No one’s even been selected. There aren’t any candidates…no one, no one understands this project. Not to mention, the, the, formal proceedings, ramifications of failure, funding, legal,” Colette stammered.
“Enough,” Heisler shouted then turned to Dekker. “We have one candidate that can assume all responsibility.”
“Stevie,” Dekker pleaded.
“I can do it. I just need time to upgrade one of the previous Virtual Presence Devices.”
“Turning a VPD into an MRC isn’t going to be cheap or easy,” Dekker complained.
“My God, you’re both out of your minds…I’m washing my hands of this project,” Colette proclaimed then stormed out of the room.
“You’ll help me?”
The chunky Irishman rubbed his chin nervously before answering, “I mean…I want to. If, if I can do it legally…yes. I’ll help you, but…I want you to consider every possible outcome, and try to get Colette back on board. You’re teetering on madness here, Heisler.” He placed a hand on his partner’s shoulder adding, “Regardless of everything, we’re friends. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Thank you, Charles.”
Judging it was more plausible to allow Colette and Jenkins time to calm down, Heisler opted to run down to engineering, where he pulled the veil off an old device.
“The original construct,” he whispered.
The VPD was barely more than a human-like face fashioned from Titanium plates, a CCTV camera, and a stand built overtop a wheeled platform. The entire thing moved via a Bluetooth link adjoined to any computer. Heisler scrutinized the rudimentary device.
“I already have the arms and legs. I just need to resize them off Franklin’s MRC.”
Later that evening, Heisler and a team of roboticists went to work. When questioned about the project by an underling, he decided to reveal as little as necessary.
“Because, Yates, the department isn’t taking our failure lightly. If we can provide something akin to a half-step backwards then reinitiate the experiment, they’ll be more lenient,” Heisler replied to the query.
“I don’t know, Sir,” Yates complained.
“If you value your career, you’ll stay onboard.”
Yates gulped before resuming. Hours of relentless work passed. Most of the roboticists retired to their respective homes by two in the morning. Unable to relinquish the grip Project Human held, Heisler stayed behind. I have to keep going. I need to finish this thing….
The following morning, and looking frazzled, he stumbled out of the building to check his vehicle for a change of clothes. “Up all night, huh,” Dekker asked while having his morning smoke.
“Yes. It won’t be long before I finish the legs. The others can handle the arms…if I can just divert funding to building a new torso, and alter the face…and you can create a new CP, I,” Heisler huffed.
“Easy, Stevie.” Dekker interrupted. “We don’t know what Kessler wants to do, anyway. For all we know, everything will resume as scheduled.”
“I have my doubts,” Heisler sighed. “Let me see if I have clothes then we’ll talk.”
“I’ll be getting breakfast,” Dekker said and entered the building.
Heisler shook his head in dismay. Rifling through his trunk, he found only tools, empty grocery bags, and a scarf. He took the silk garment, and holding it in the sunlight, delved into thought. Greta…why where you ever with me? He sniffed it, her scent still embedded in the fabric. For a moment, he missed her presence. You believed in me, not as a roboticist, but as a person. Guess you were wrong….
He dropped the scarf, shut the trunk then made his way back inside to hunt down Dekker. As the programmer had promised, he was stuffing his face with bacon. He motioned for Heisler to join.
“Here, I got you something,” Dekker said, pushing a sausage biscuit over. “I know you’re not eating. You don’t…you look bad, Stevie.”
Heisler grumbled in exasperation. “Eat,” Dekker demanded. Heisler obliged then snatched the cup of orange juice from Dekker’s vicinity. “Yeah, that’s why you have so many fri
ends.”
“Don’t need many, just a few.”
“Whatever. Look, Colette walked in,” Dekker said, pointing. “Doctor!”
Colette arched a brow and approached. “Doctor Dekker, Doctor Heisler, any word from Jenkins or Kessler?”
“Nothing yet…listen,” Heisler started. “Have a seat, please. Colette…I’ve invested my entire life in this project, and while I respect that you feel my actions are rash, you need to understand–”
“I do,” she interrupted. “I understand full well. You’ve had some forty odd years to formulate this decision. Right?”
“Uh-oh,” Dekker grinned.
Heisler shot him a look of contempt before addressing Colette, “Yes, that’s right. Furthermore, I have a team of doctors willing to take unnecessary risks on my behalf, and I understand that you’re all as deeply invested as I am…so, what I’m saying is, I’m sorry if I angered you, or you feel I’ve jeopardized your career in any way.”
She pursed her lips and nodded. “I’ll locate Jenkins then the four of us can schedule a meeting with Kessler. If you can present a reasonable argument as to why this project needs to move forwards, he may be willing to listen,” Colette said then left them.
“Well done, Heisler…didn’t think you had it in ya’,” Dekker quipped.
“I’ll be in engineering.”
It was during the refashioning of the prosthetic legs that Heisler received a text. It read: Meeting at 3pm.
He checked the time. “Two thirty,” he asked aloud. “All right…better clean myself up.”
He attempted to do so in the campus bathroom. His hair was a mess, and his face scruffy, but other than splashing some water on his rumpled visage, and using napkins to rub his teeth clean, there wasn’t much more available in the art of hygiene.
“Guess that’ll do,” he muttered.
Meandering down hallways, he passed others. Both students and professors were walking through to investigate new projects. A young woman eyed him as he passed by. Reaching the elevator, he tried to relax. I forgot to outline a new presentation…ridiculous.
After the car came to a halt, he made his way to Kessler’s office, and was slightly shocked to be the first to arrive. “Doctor Heisler,” Kessler said.
“Good afternoon.”
“Sit,” Kessler motioned with his hand. “Word is, you’re altering the approach of Project Human.”
“Yes, Sir,” Heisler answered. “Shouldn’t we wait for everyone else?”
“They’ll be here any minute. For the time being, I want to talk about you,” Kessler explained.
Heisler sighed before answering, “Certainly.”
“Project Human is your pet. You asked for Dekker, Jenkins, and Schlessinger. Your goal was…,” he turned to his computer while speaking. “To help the human race break beyond its limitations by way of harnessing the power of time.”
“I recall what I wrote,” Heisler snipped.
“Via advanced MRC’s people can one day leave behind their old, damaged, or diseased bodies, and walk amongst us with a renewed passion for life and learning,” Kessler continued, unabashed.
“That’s still my goal. Nothing’s changed. We all knew problems were going to arise. Even solar energy,” Heisler argued.
“Enough, Doctor,” Kessler interjected. “It isn’t the program I’m having problems with.”
“I know. I understand. I should’ve allowed Dekker to shut Franklin off. I’m sorry that I lost sight of,” Heisler trailed off, and staring blankly for an awkwardly long moment, he grew angry. “No. I’m not sorry. I knew what I was doing, and I’d do it again. You’ve got to crack eggs to make an omelet, no? No one was injured. Nothing was broken…I fail to understand why everyone is against me.”
Kessler’s mouth twitched. Luckily, the others entered before he exploded on Heisler. Awkward glances prevailed then everyone took seats.
“Doctor Heisler, here, is not making a good case,” Kessler started. “Regardless, head of finances has decided to withdraw the bulk of its resources from Project Human.”
“Doctor Kessler,” Dekker pleaded.
“It’s out of my hands, gentlemen, but listen, and listen attentively. There’s still some money in the budget. If you can work with what you have, reformulate some of your…methods, and produce usable results, I may be able to push for consideration when the next, fiscal year comes around.”
“There’s plenty for us to do, really,” Jenkins said, optimistically.
Kessler shot a glance over to Heisler. He smirked in reply.
“Alright everyone, let’s go plan this out,” Heisler announced. “Kessler…thanks for your time.”
They reconvened just outside engineering. The noise from machinery bled through the walls.
“Just what do you think we can do with however little money we have left,” Colette asked.
“It isn’t complicated,” Jenkins replied. “We surely still have enough money to create feline MRC’s. We can upload all kinds of mammals, or, or, even anything Animalia into a feline MRC and gather those results. A year will fly by. Then, we can get back on track.”
“Sounds good,” Dekker grinned. “I’ve been stressing out pretty bad over all this. Way to think outside the box.”
“The results yielded from these studies should,” Colette said.
“Certainly,” Heisler interrupted, loudly. “There are better ways to yield results.”
“Not this again,” Colette argued. “You’re unstable, Heisler. What you’re proposing is insane.”
“It isn’t,” he shouted. “It’s the perfect solution, but I need you all onboard. Just imagine, only two or three years from now we’ll have perfected the technology to transplant human awareness into MRC’s. Dekker, what do you think a CP can create with an endless cache of instantaneous knowledge, knowledge that can be transmitted from one to another in mere seconds?
“Colette, don’t you see this will resolve all emotional problems? Any mental disorder caused by physical impracticalities of the brain will be eradicated. We’ll no longer need food, water, space. Money will lose all value. There will be no need to war. Don’t you people see what I’m building? This is the end of the human condition. Suffering, jealousy, any of the differences we see in one another; those nearly imperceptible discrepancies that make us hate will be eradicated.
“Jenkins, what if we were able to walk amongst each other, and instead of worrying about biological needs, and instead of dying after a mere one hundred years, we could continue to study, to learn, to dissect, and create a new world, one based purely on knowledge…would you not want a part of that?”
They grew silent. Heisler’s vision of a world of knowledge was indeed enticing. Each of them had a mastery of their fields of knowledge, but they were genuinely interested in what lay undiscovered. Uneasy glances prevailed for a second.
“We’re not going to be able to just upload you…I, I mean, your body, Stevie…where’s that going to go,” Dekker asked.
“I’ll get sick, and put in for a leave of absence. Kessler doesn’t want me around anyway. He won’t ask, and my current outbursts coupled with Colette’s recommendation that I take time off ought to get everything started,” Heisler said.
“What about the complexities of uploading human brainwaves? This hasn’t been fully tested,” Jenkins argued.
“We have time to work on that. In fact, that and a new CP is all we really need. My team of engineers has access to schematics. So long as one of you pops on down and stays on top of them, a new MRC, a human MRC, can be completed by the time the neurological studies are completed and the CP is completed,” Heisler clamored. “By then, whatever’s happening with Jenkins’s uploading of a snake or whatever into a cat MRC should land us more funding for the new fiscal year.”
“And legal ramifications,” Dekker pried.
Heisler took a long inhalation, before continuing, “I’ll work on something. I just need to know that we’re all onboard…tog
ether,” he said. “But don’t decide just yet…I’m ready, but I understand that you all might not be. Why don’t you guys get out of here, and get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll make a decision. Worse comes to worse…well. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
Abruptly, Heisler left them to their own designs.
Moving forwards
At home, amidst the disarray accumulated from too much time at work, Heisler pulled the bottle of single malt forty year old scotch from the cabinet.
“In celebration of a new age,” Heisler announced to no one.
With a sigh of complete and utter resignation, he settled into his leather sofa. After peeling the label from the cap, he started his first binge drink in over ten years. The first few sips hit his empty stomach pretty hard. The subsequent gulps steadily became larger, providing that particular all over warmth, which only scotch truly possessed.
“Now, this, I might miss…but I can only imagine what undiscovered pleasures reside in the age of artificiality.”
Thoughts of walking around as a robot swam through his mind. I’ll be able to Skype without an exterior device, instantly upload articles and studies into my CP, learn anything I want, and create anything I want….
Suddenly, he snapped his eyes open with realization and blurted out, “Hold on! I’ll be government property. No, I’ll have to convince the others to do everything in private…no one can know about this. None of the data can be compiled or archived. This entire project will have to stay covered up for at least a little while.”
After his brief moment of clarity, he looked at the half emptied bottle of scotch and burst out laughing, so much so, that he had to set the bottle down before spilling its contents.
“Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t care about any of that. Nope, just need to get myself into that MRC then the universe is my oyster,” he chuckled.
More drinks persisted. Then, there was nothing. After nothing was a bone chilling, repetitive sound. Heisler woke face down on the sofa. His alarm was blaring obscenely loud.
“Greta? Can you shut that thing off?”
Oh right…. He rolled off the couch. Stumbling to the bedroom, he shut the alarm off, griped over his splitting headache, and made for the bathroom. There, he popped some aspirin, drank from the faucet, and took a long shower before the painstaking drive to MIT.
The leaders of Project Human met in Dekker’s office. There, they discussed the most practical way to move forwards with Heisler’s proposition.
“Let’s talk legality,” Dekker began. “You’re asking us to kill you, hide your body, and falsify medical reports.”
“Yes, but it all becomes moot when I’m in the MRC,” Heisler rebutted. “There can’t be any legal ramifications. There are no laws against transferring awareness. Besides, I’ll write out a statement absolving others of this whole…maneuver.”
“Even so, we’d have to call a coroner. Dumping a body, regardless of how it died, is illegal,” Colette stated.
“I’m sure that if you hide my husk while I learn to utilize my new abilities, we can accomplish something,” Heisler mumbled. “I can link with computer systems and fudge paperwork stating that my body is being donated as a cadaver for medical training, so if you could all just hide it for a bit, I think things will be fine.”
“How do you propose we reveal your metamorphosis,” Jenkins asked.
“We’ll have to hold off for a short while, but I’m certain an opportunity will reveal itself.”
“So we’re doing this? I mean we’re actually doing this?” Dekker was I disbelief.
“What about the misappropriation of funds?” Colette interjected.
“Again, once I’m able to communicate with all the University’s records, I can fudge whatever is required.”
“What do you plan on doing,” Jenkins asked, slowly.
Heisler made deliberate eye contact with everyone before answering, “Why, advancing our knowledge of the entire universe, Jenkins.”
“So, you’re going to stay here,” he asked.
“At first. Once everything is wrapped up, and Project Human acquires the funding to proceed, I’ll reveal myself…and all of the knowledge I’ve accumulated,” Heisler clarified.
“Then…I guess we’d better hurry up, and get everything completed,” Dekker’s tone belied his ambivalence.
For a long, pensive moment, no one spoke. Each one wondered whether or not the new development was worth achieving. Jenkins and Colette looked to Dekker. His eyes skipped about the room for a second.
“What?”
Instead of asking Dekker, Colette addressed Heisler, “You’re certain you can just pop into University databases or servers or whatever?”
Dekker understood the maneuver; the others were doubtful of Heisler’s proposed capabilities.
“It isn’t that difficult,” Heisler said. “It’s just a matter of using the correct protocol; spoofing addresses, accessing ports, erasing the digital footprint.”
“That’s it,” Jenkins posed.
They were still looking at Dekker, not Heisler, so he answered, “Well, I mean, that’s not every, single, little, tiny detail, but basically that’s it.”
“I will do everything in my power to see that this works out for us all,” Heisler stated. “I know that I’m pushing the envelope, here, but we’re just so close. I’m begging you, please, let us embark on this journey, the future, together.”
They all agreed.
A turn of events
“Why did you bring the camera?” Jenkins fretted. “I thought we were supposed to avoid keeping any kind of record.”
“We need to prove this isn’t a hoax,” Dekker asserted.
“Steven,” Colette said.
He opened his eyes. It was time to initiate the upload, and the team leaders surrounded Heisler, who was strapped onto the gurney.
“It’s still Heisler,” he corrected her.
“Of course, Heisler, it’s just…are you certain you didn’t tell anyone about this?”
“No one. The only record of it is stored on a flash drive. Dekker has access to it in the event that things go awry.”
“So none of your friends or family know about this,” Colette pried.
“Please,” Heisler snorted.
“Alright, everyone, this is Doctor Charles Dekker speaking to you from the mainframe, or operations room, at MIT,” Dekker dictated while holding the camera. “What you see here is Doctor Steven Heisler, renowned roboticist, about to upload his consciousness into our 7MX CPU. Upon completion, his brain will cease to function, and shortly after, his body will die. He will, however, remain intact for he, Doctor Heisler, is not the flesh, but the awareness…the culmination of life’s experiences–”
“That’s very poetic. Can we get on with it?” Heisler interrupted.
“Easy,” Jenkins said, holding Heisler’s hand.
“You can let go, Jenkins. I may be nervous, but I am not scared.”
Jenkins agonized and looked at the others. “At least you’re consistent, Stevie,” Dekker joked.
“Anything you’d like to say,” Colette asked.
He was silent for a moment. His deep breathing sounded over the subtle whirring of machinery.
“Yes,” he started. “Today, I break beyond the limitations God has placed on the human body. Today, I transcend the human condition…and one day soon, I hope to reveal that all greatness following this accomplishment was due to the four of us. Albert Thomas Jenkins, Charles Flannery Dekker, Lydia Colette Schlessinger, and of course myself, Steven Emerson Heisler, have come together to look upon the face of God.”
Then, a moment of silence ensued. “Alright…. In three, two, one,” Dekker announced.
He pointed at Jenkins, who pressed the button to initiate the procedure. Breaths remained held. Uneasy glances passed. Every few seconds, Heisler’s fingers twitched, or he mumbled something incoherent. Then, there was nothing.
“Readings look good,” Dekker said.
/> “Transfer is complete. Data indicates the entirety of his brain waves have been uploaded,” Jenkins reported.
“Doctor Heisler?” Colette called out.
They looked at one another, and finally releasing their breath, they waited for a reply.
“Stevie,” Dekker asked.
“I…am here,” the mainframe stated.
“Heisler,” Jenkins and Colette asked.
“I can see you,” he replied with a mechanical voice.
“Holy freakin’ cow, Stevie!” Dekker cheered.
“What’s it like,” Jenkins asked.
There was silence while Heisler interpreted the data as seen by his new optics. It was odd, lacking the need for blinking. He also no longer needed to pick one thing to focus on at a time. He saw everything as provided by the mainframe’s built in camera.
“It’s…indescribable.”
“Well…how do you feel,” Colette asked.
“Feel,” Heisler asked. “Peculiar.”
They all laughed uncomfortably for a second. Hm, I used to grin, or laugh as well…. Somewhere, some undefined part of me wants to laugh, but I don’t know how to do that anymore. Another undefined part of Heisler grew angry by the longing for laughter; the longing to share in something human.
“Doctors,” he called out.
“Yes,” Colette asked.
“I need Dekker to connect me to the School Board. I have a great deal of work to do.”
“Certainly,” Dekker answered. “Two seconds…done.”
“Appreciated. You may all leave now. While I’m working, I won’t be able to talk to you.”
“But,” Jenkins muttered.
“Why don’t you all go have a drink or something? Go celebrate…and get rid of that husk over there.”
“Right,” Dekker grinned. “C’mon, gang.”
As Heisler shut off his optic link, and delved into the strange process of instantaneously placing his awareness on bits of data, the others worked quickly to cover the gurney and roll it out of the lab.
