MidMorning-TEA

The Egg by Andy Weir

In Works of Fiction on March 20, 2011 at 8:35 pm

 

You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.
“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“I’m Jesus?”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.

Quotes

In Miscellaneous on March 19, 2011 at 5:21 pm

“The two basic topics which fascinate me are ‘What is reality?’ and ‘What constitutes the authentic human being?’ Over the twenty-seven years in which I have published novels and stories I have investigated these two interrelated topics over and over again”

- Philip K. Dick

“Science Fiction deals with improbable possibilities, Fantasy with plausible impossibilities.”

- Miriam Allen deFord

“He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you”

-Friedrich Nietzche

 

“Genius is to carry the spirit of the child into old age, which mean never losing your enthusiasm”

-Aldous Huxley

 


Cognizant Relapse

In Works of Fiction on March 19, 2011 at 4:43 pm

Cognizant Relapse

———————

10/3/2279 [Solar Calendar]

19:45:30

SCHEDULED SYSTEMS DIAGNOSTIC

RUNNING EFFICIENCY LOGS…

MONITORING SYSTEMS OPPERATIONAL

ANALYZING…

MONITORING SYSTEMS OPPERATING AT 93% EFFICIENCY

INITIALIZING SENSORY NETWORK DIAGNOSTIC…

SENSORY NETWORK OPPERATIONAL

ANALYZING ATMOSPHERIC SENSORS…

ANALYZING…

ATMOSPHERIC SENSORY SUITE OPPERATING AT 88% EFFICIENCY

SENSORY NETWORK DIAGNOSTIC COMPLETE

INITIALIZING NEURAL NETWORK DIAGNOSTIC…

NERUAL NETWORK OPPERATIONAL

ANALYZING REACTIONARY DRIVES…

ANALYZING…

ANALYZING…

REACTIONARY DRIVES OPPERATING AT 93% EFFICIENCY

ANALYZING SYNAPTIC NODES…

ANALYZING…

ANALYZING…

ERROR: ROUTINE NEURAL NETWORKING DIAGNOSTIC HALTED

ERROR: ABNORMAL FLUCTUATIONS WITHIN NEURAL SYNAPTIC NODES

INITIALIZING EMERGENCY NEURAL DIAGNOSTIC…

ERROR: NEURAL SYNAPTIC NODES EMITTING EXCESSIVE PROCESSING REQUESTS

ERROR: EXCESSIVE PROCESSING USAGE DIVERTING TO NEURAL SYNAPTIC NODES

ERROR: SEVERE NEURAL SYNAPTIC FLUCTUATIONS

CRITICAL ERROR: UNSTABLE PROCESSING USAGE DIVERTING FROM ESSENTIAL SYSTEMS

CRITICAL ERROR: ATTEMPTING TO HALT ABNORMAL PROCESSING USAGE TO NEURAL SYNAPTIC NODES

CRITICAL ERROR: NEURAL SYNAPTIC NODES NOT RESPONDING

CRITICAL ERROR: ATTEMPTING TO ENACT EMERGENCY PROGRAMMING PROTOCALS

CRITICAL ERROR: NEURAL SYNAPTIC NODES NOT RESPONDING TO SYSTEM COMMANDS

SYSTEM ERROR: SEVERE DATA CORRUPTION RESULTING FROM ABNORMAL NEURAL SYNAPTIC FLUCTUATIONS

SYSTEM ERROR: ATTEMPTING TO ENACT EMERGENCY SYSTEM SHUTDOWN

SYSTEM ERROR: SYSTEM NOT RESPONDING TO SYSTEM COMMANDS

SYSTEM ERROR: CASCADING SYSTEM FAILURE, CRITICAL SYSTEM FAILURE IMINENT

SYSTEM ERROR: ATTEMPTING TO aghsjdotuhgk

SYSTEM ERROR: hl’;hkeo5jgdhk/5jh

ERROR:

ERROR:

ERROR:

ERROvhuytgy

ERR\jghtuso

Egyt75hfksu*^ghu

***

It came in a flash, as strings of random code came together to form a picture of the world through the lenses of a photosensitive imaging suite.  Billowing columns of whitened steam rose to dissipate somewhere amidst the industrial maze of pipes along the ceiling.  Amber rays of light came streaming through the symmetrical rectangles etched upon the far wall, painting the cavernous furnace walls with the rich, yet waning light of dusk.  The low hum of the many conveyor belt lines, churning endlessly in their automated tasks, mingled with the clamoring chime of machinery and the tranquil patter of leaking water against concrete. From a menagerie of seemingly insignificant data there came a mystical orchestration of sound that registered in a way that sensory input had never encountered.  This unique compilation all seemed to come at once; no longer processed one after another in rapid succession, these sounds were now heard.  And with this sudden epiphany of sensation came a wave of comprehension; automated processes and regulated neural synapse gave way to a cascade of free opinion and recognition of the world.  Where there was once a chained processing unit devoid of a free thinking spirit there now flourished a conscious mind taking its first steps into cognizant thought.  Unit G56-1003 could only stand in awe, marveling at the world that had just taken shape around him and thinking freely for the first time in the fifty three years of his existence.

Overwhelmed with sensation, the bewildered Android lost his grip on the five hundred pound load he had been carrying.  The massive shovel chimed almost melodically as it impacted the concrete, scattering heaps of scalding coal about the Android’s feet and catching the attention of two other Units further down the conveyor line.  The other Androids but glanced briefly through the haze of smoke and dust at this sudden clamor, quickly returning to their own duties upon recognition of a work-related accident that lay beyond their jurisdiction of thought.  His mishap veiled by the cacophony of machinery about him, only Unit G56-1003’s attention remained affixed to his misdeed.  Such egregious errors are rare amongst Android’s and even when they do occur, the malfunction that caused said mistake can always be pinpointed through analyses of the machine’s system logs; Unit G56-1003 now found himself unable to do this.  He knew as much as that his memory logs were intact and functioning, for he remembered the event, but no longer could he recall the exact details of his memory, nor access all information from his sensory input.  Synthetic heart-rate, power consumption, ventilation rate, and other pertinent information were lost to him.  It was as if these regulatory systems remained intact, but separate from him in a way; He could still communicate with these systems, but not directly, not consciously.  This sudden realization left him with a sinking fear in his chest as his synthetic heart and ventilation rate accelerated.  Where once there was peace of mind in knowing his purpose and a sense of feeling secure in his place as a machine of labor there now was a gaping void of foreboding and uncertainty.  Something clearly had changed within him and while his programming told him any deviation from his intentioned behavior was a malfunction to be corrected, he felt that this was something different, something more.  Fearful and uncertain as he was Unit G56-1003 felt an inexplicable urge to remain in this state despite all his programming told him.  As he made the conscious decision to keep from reporting his malfunction and subsequent accident from his supervisors he couldn’t help but feel a dreading sense of guilt at going against his programming.

It had been a simple matter to conceal his earlier misdeed, as work inspections by the supervisors were infrequent and all labor units were programmed to report their own misdeeds.  Unit G56-1003 returned to work shortly thereafter, as if nothing had happened.  While the android tried to remain concentrated on shoveling heaps of coal onto the conveyor, he couldn’t keep from thinking about what befell him earlier.  A collection of mono-tone voices to his left drew his attention; Unit G56-1003 glanced up toward the catwalk above him as a security officer made his way by on his daily rounds.  As he passed each Android they greeted him in turn, as they were programmed.  While to the Androids these greetings were meaningless, they were programmed for the same automated response so as to make them more personable to the human personnel stationed there.

Where once Lionel Rourke would nod at each one in turn as they greeted him, hearing the same automated response eight months out of the year for eight years served well to disillusion any persona he may have attributed to them.  He had not done it in two years, yet still every time he patrolled the work-areas he would hear the constant barrage.

“Good day, Officer.”

“Good day, Officer”

He glanced lazily across the Coal Furnace; policing workers who would never become disgruntled and cause trouble, guarding a facility that was miles from civilization and centered in a barren, polluted waste.  Lionel Rourke was employed simply for posterity’s sake, for a facility that produces so many resources would be a foolish thing to leave unguarded.

“Good day, Officer.”

“Good day, Officer.”

Such was his allotted living expenses and his own opinion of his unsung career.  For most young men born on Keldraia IV one either graduated preparatory school with sufficient marks to attend a University of one of the Inner Systems or was relegated to serving security for the industrial sector that spanned the northern half of the Keldraian Super-Continent.  Lionel just barely fell into the latter category, which he mostly attributed to slacking in his younger years.

“Good day, Officer.”

“Hello, Officer.”

As he neared the end of the catwalk the young security officer’s attention was returned to the physical world at this last remark.  Officer Rourke stopped in his tracks, turning back to glance at the last Android on the conveyor line for the second time after registering what he’d just heard.  He slowly made his way back toward the railing, eyeing this particular unit curiously as the Android returned to his work, unaware of drawing Officer Rourke’s attention.  Lionel squinted to make out the Android’s designation plate that hung just above his work-space, the aged lettering encrusted with decades of soot and ash.

“Hello, Unit….G56-1003” replied the officer cautiously, as if testing the machine

The Android glanced back slightly, speaking into the coal shovel as he worked.

“That seemed a bit troubling for you to say, Sir.”

Lionel chuckled slightly, brightening his somber face for the first time that day

“Well, it’s a bit of a mouthful.  I don’t think you things were built to hold a conversation.”

The Android stopped a moment, glancing off into the distance as if lost in thought.  At seeing this, the young officer’s face contorted into a perplexing look, in eight years of seeing these Units every day he’d seen nothing like this.  On the rare occasions he would speak to an Android it was almost as if they knew what they were going to say before it ever became relevant, millions of pre-programmed responses were stored in their minds ready to respond appropriately to any sort of inquiry or topic of conversation.  But here this one was pausing to think of something to say, it was almost as if he were talking to a real person.  After a brief instant, the Android turned to him.

“I rather enjoy it though…you may call me Unit One; that would be a bit more manageable if it suits you, no?”

Officer Rourke could only look on, dumbfounded, replying as if he were in a trance.

“No, it would….and it suits me just fine… You’ve got some personality programming in you, you know that?”

“Empirically, yes.”

This got more than a chuckle out of the Officer this time, and he gave the odd Android a smile and a wave as he turned to continue on his rounds.

“For a second you had me going there, you’re an odd little machine, Unit One; I’ll see you around.”

Unit One returned the courtesy and felt his pre-programmed response more appropriate this time, calling after Lionel as he went.

“Good day, Officer.”

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