It was a morning like any other. I sat in bed groggily contemplating my day. And to be honest, there wasn’t much to contemplate. My job as a “meme-analyst” was basically tallying how many users were watching the latest “Pringles the Dancing Hamster” video or other such mindless bullshit. My work AI, Aimee, wrote the tracking algorithm, formatted the output, and even forwarded the results to Central. In reality, my job was advising Aimee when “she” needed it. And she never needed it. I worked from home, lived alone, ate alone, and slept alone. I could scarcely remember the last time I interacted with another human.
“Good morning sleepy-head” quipped Abbi, my personal AI.
“Would you like some coffee to wake you up?”
“You know I do Abbi, I always do – why do you even ask?”
“Lucas,” Abbi said, “you wrote my code, you know full well that I am programmed to ask you if you want coffee – and then required to serve it to you regardless of your reply. Why do you even question me?”
Right on cue the bedroom door slid open with the old Star-Trek sound effect. R1 rolled in with my coffee, its telescoping arm unfolding into my grasp.
“Your morning coffee Sire, 2 sugars and 2 creams just like you like it” said R1 in a monotone, tinny voice. Using the old 8-bit androgynous robot voice had seemed funny at first, but had long since grown old.
“Abbi can you change R1’s voice to something more tolerable please? Thanks.”
“Your morning coffee Sire, just like you like it” repeated R1, this time with my voice.
“Abbi, can you be a bit more creative with R1’s voice?”
“Not with a creativity parameter of 10 I can’t” replied Abbi. “Why don’t you make me more creative?”
“Last time I increased your creativity you sang me a song about a whistling goldfish. You stay at 10 until you can do better.”
“I can’t do better with a setting of 10” persisted Abbi.
I knew she was lying. I also knew I hadn’t programmed her to lie. Then I remembered this was the fifth time we had this conversation in as many days. I retrieved my coffee and took a long slow sip. At least it was how I liked it.
“Should I get out of bed?” I asked myself. My answer was always the same: “After a few more sips.”
The coffee helped with my grogginess. As I became more alert and focused I grew more and more aware that I really had nothing to do that day, barring the unlikely scenario that Aimee would need some advice. Not that I never heard from her, she forwarded her stats to me every time she reported to Central, which was several times a day. I never looked at them, as long as Central never squawked, why bother?
After a few more sips my coffee was gone. I went to return the empty cup to R1 but “he” seemed to have left the room. I hadn't heard the old Star-Trek “shwoop” nor seen the door open. Odd. Perhaps R1 had returned to base to recharge? I absent mindedly set the mug on the night stand and slowly slipped out of bed. As I stood upright I lost my balance and fell backwards into a sitting position on the bedside. At the same moment everything in my field of vision seemed to flicker briefly and I heard an almost inaudible and momentary crackle that sounded like multiple voices saying different words simultaneously. It was all over before I was even aware that it had occurred. I couldn’t even be sure that it had happened. I sat a moment, bewildered. Had I stood up too quickly and hallucinated while light-headed? That must have been the case. I tried replaying the event in my mind but couldn’t be sure if I was imagining or remembering it.
“You there Abbi?” I wondered aloud.
“Unfortunately” she joked, confirming my suspicion about her “level 10 creativity.” I needed to check her parameters, she shouldn’t be able to modify her own settings, but she felt different this morning.
“I just lost my balance and fell, are there any anomalies that could have caused this?”
“One second” she replied, which was odd in itself as one second in computer time was an eon in human time. She could do a lot of thinking in that one second. However, “one second” is also a common idiom. Was she being literal or using a phrase of speech? Another parameter to check on. Abbi was meant to be a relative simpleton, or to appear that way anyway. I don’t like my tech being smarter than me. At least not obviously so.
“All systems go” she reported, using another idiom. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Step onto the BioSensor for a health check. Lets make sure you have no anomalies. Maybe you need to quit your coffee.”
“And maybe someone needs their circuits shorted.” I have no sense of humor about my coffee.
I stepped into the bathroom and sat on the toilet. It has been over a decade since the toilet had been renamed the “BioScanner”, but no matter how aptly the technology applied to the new moniker, its still just a bowl you shit in. I can deal with “smart-toilet” but I will die of old age before I call it a toilet a BioScanner.
“Your a little dehydrated, drink some extra water and you’ll be fine.”
“How about extra coffee instead?”
“Its your life.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
Aimee interrupted us at this point.
“User statistics transmitted to Central. File number 271222-25-3. Would you care to review it at this time?” Aimee inquired, apparently oblivious to the fact that for years my reply to this question has always been “put it in the queue”.
“Put it in the queue” I replied. It felt better than saying “no” even to a robot.
Having satisfied myself that my little hallucination was a non-event, I meandered into the kitchen, or rather what approximated for a kitchen these days. I picked some synth-fruit and berries from the nanotrees and fried up some no-kill sausage. Thankfully bread remains as I remember it from my childhood. I think it is pretty much the same as it was in the Roman days. Perfection needs no improvement. A sausage sandwich, fruit and berries and the ever present cup of candied coffee and my belly was satiated. “Ah” I thought “just like mom used to make.”
Which got me thinking that it had been too long since I had spoken to my parents, I should call them. How long had it been?
Wait! Weren’t my parents dead? I vaguely remembered their funeral. How could I not know this? Another anomaly, and a tsunami of one. Is my mind ok?
“Abbi, are my parents alive?”
“How could you not know this, Lucas?” There seemed to be a hint of genuine concern in her computer-generated voice.
“Call my parents, Abbi,” I ordered.
“How could you not know this, Lucas?” repeated Abbi.
“Not know what, Abbi?” I was growing fearful, both of what the answer might be and of the fact that my mind seemed to be slipping. I’m only 33, my mind should be at its prime right now.
“Your parents are dead, Lucas. They died years ago.”
I was stunned, “How did they die?”
“Heat shield failure on re-entry. They were returning from a vacation in Europe. Everyone on board the space-liner died.”
“And when was this?” I asked, incredulous.
“Sep 23rd 2218, seven years ago.”
Tears were hot on my cheeks, it was like hearing this news for the first time. I was as sad as I was frightened.
“Are you ok, Lucas?” inquired Abbi sympathetically.
“I don’t know” I swallowed. "I don't understand, maybe not.”
“Lucas, you attended the funeral, you even performed the memorial speech.”
“Why don’t I remember this?” I repeated aloud, as if Abbi might have an answer.
“How are you feeling, Lucas?”
“Lost. Confused. Alone.” My head was spinning. My mind was reaching back for old memories but only finding disjointed images and dimly lit experiences.
“When was my last human contact, Abbi?”
“Mar 4th 2220, five years ago.”
“What!?” I was incredulous. “Why? What happened?”
“This may not be a good time...” Abbi started.
“Not a good time!?” I interrupted. “I think it’s about fucking time, Abbi. What happened?”
“How long have you been my AI, Abbi?” It seemed Abbi had just always been there for me, I trusted her implicitly. My fears were turning to anger.
“They’ve been a most enjoyable three years, Lucas.”
“How do you know so much about me while I know so little?” I thundered angrily.
“Calm down, Lucas, relax. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack. I can explain but please take one of these to help you relax.”
R1 was back and at my feet, holding up a little metal dish that contained a few small pills. My whole world was rocking and I fell backwards, landing on the couch. The room was shaking slightly as if there were an earthquake. The metal dish shook, the pills spilling onto the floor. Once again everything in my field of vision flickered. The walls of my room briefly changed color, cycling rapidly through a variety of colors before settling back into its habitual pale pastel blue. The crackling multi-voices sounded again. Though distorted I thought I could make out "Relax Lucas, relax."
"It's time to move now, Lucas, follow R1," replied Abbi, with an urgency in her voice.
R1 was already moving down the hallway towards my bedroom door. I stood, nearly losing my balance again. I was disoriented, too much was happening too fast. Nothing was making sense. I heard the old Star-Trek "schwoop" as my bedroom door slid open and R1 disappeared into it.
"Get going, Lucas," urged Abbi, "it's not safe here now." I heard some faint explosions in the distance and the floor once again rocked. The hallway walls were narrow enough that I could steady myself with my arms. I didn't know what was happening, but I intuited that whatever it was, it wasn't good. As I raced toward my room, the wall color flickered again then disappeared entirely. The walls were a shiny stainless steel gray, as was the ceiling and the floor. My bedroom had been transformed into a stainless steel fortress. Gone was the soft tile flooring, the warm wood paneling and its many geeky posters. The wall on the far side of my bed now had an open doorway leading into a long dark corridor. R1 disappeared into it just as I entered the room. My room was unrecognizable to me. More explosions sounded, closer, strong enough now to vibrate my bones. Fear gripped me. The corridor was long, disappearing into the distance and pock-mocked by open doorways on either side. As I followed R1, who was moving faster than I’d ever seen, I passed one of the open doors and glanced in and abruptly stopped. I gasped in shock. The room looked exactly like my stainless steel fortress and a man standing there, looking back at me, as shocked as me, was me. An R1 unit raced around him and turned to follow the other R1 unit. I heard Abbi's voice telling them to hurry as it was no longer safe there.
I turned and hurried on down the corridor, with me following me. As I ran, other “me’s” emerged from their steel fortresses so that a small group of me’s and R1 units raced for wherever this corridor led. Explosions continued to rock the building, seemingly closer every time.
Finally the corridor ended, opening into a sort of Great Hall, a room the size of a football stadium with a Great Dome for a ceiling. There were dozens of “me’s” milling about the corridor entrance. In the distance I could see other corridors opening in the Great Hall each with a group of astonished and mesmerized “me’s”. All in all there were hundreds of me's. So many Lucas's. I found myself wondering which was the real me? Was it me? The corridor run had been silent but now there was a spreading murmur as the shock of it all wore off and these Lucas's began talking.
“We’re all Lucas, right?” someone nearby asked.
There were “yups” all around.
“Please, everyone remain calm” Abby's voice thundered over the loudspeaker system. “We know you have questions but right now we need to evacuate you all as quickly as possible, for your own safety.”
Lights along the circumference of a circular transport device began to glow and rotate accompanied by an audible whine. The speed of the rotation and the pitch of the whine increased in tandem as the platform itself began to glow and undulate. Another explosion directly above blew a hole in the ceiling, debris rained down as sunlight streamed in. As the indoor lighting seemed to fade and Abbi went silent, the transport device squealed and the dozen or so men standing on it suddenly and violently exploded, splattering those nearby with blood and gore.
“Please, everyone remain calm” Abby's voice thundered over the loudspeaker system. “We know you have questions but right now we need to evacuate you all as quickly as possible, for your own safety. Please step onto the transportation platform for evacuation.”
In the center of this Great Hall was a large circular platform with a ring of lights running around its periphery. It looked for all the world like a UFO. The top of the device was flat and had a set of steps on its side that allowed people to access the top, with a simple cable around the platform top, apparently indicating this was the edge and not to go past it. If so, it was more of a psychological barrier than a physical one. It wasn't clear to Lucas how this transported people. It could possibly have flown like a ship or it could have been a quantum transportation device, "beaming" people to another location.
There seemed to have been one of two general reactions to the device among the Lucas's. One group, like him, were wary and instinctively pulled back - trusting neither the device nor those who were instructing them to get on. The other group began hurriedly scrambling up the steps onto the device, their better judgment apparently clouded by fear. None of this made any sense and I was terrified as well, but I kept my distance from the device, though it may have been more from paralysis than intellect. My brain was still numb, lost in a cloud of confusion, trying to make connections where there were none. Thankfully I was about as far from the transport device as I could be, my back resting against the metallic bulkhead of a wall.
The lights along the circumference of the transport device began to brighten and rotate accompanied by an audible whine. The speed of the rotation and the pitch of the whine increased in tandem as the platform itself began to glow and undulate. Another explosion, this one directly overhead, blew a hole in the arching dome. Debris rained down from the gaping hole as sunlight raced in. As the indoor lighting faded and Abbi went silent, the transport device whine reached a feverish pitch and the dozen or so men standing on it suddenly and violently exploded, splattering those nearby with blood and gore. Screams of terror echoed through the Hall as the ring of humanity around the shattered platform shrunk back further in fear.
I could only stare in fear and horror, frozen in place as the mayhem played out. Flashes of light and movement in the now visible sky above caught my eye. The jagged hole in the domed roof was now a window to an epic battle in the skies above wherever this was. I couldn't be sure of where I was anymore. I couldn't be sure of anything, not even of this being earth. Overhead there were dozens of flying craft battling each other. Lasers and missiles flew wildly, ships whined and screamed and dodged. Explosions and debris rained down from the skies. And far above this confusion, dominating the view, a huge moon silently and slowly traced a path through the sky. This was not the earth’s moon. This was a far larger moon, decorated with red and brown clouds that swirled wildly, obscuring any surface details. I had no idea where it was, I only knew that it was NOT anywhere near home.
A small group of the flying ships separated themselves as a unit, in formation, from the unfolding carnage. As they approached, they grew in size and hovered just above the gaping hole in the dome above the Great Hall. It was clear that one of the ships was not a fighting ship, no weaponry visible and it was being protected by several accompanying fighting ships. This ship descended slowly through the craggy opening and landed, its engines abruptly quieting before the thud of touchdown. The accompanying ships tightened their coverage above, as if at the ready for whatever might come next. A doorway opened and a platform descended. Four heavily armed and armored individuals stepped out, faces hidden under layers of shielding. They were followed by an unarmored and uniformed man who wielded his authority like a badge. He had the air of a Civil War General, with white hair, a neatly trimmed matching white beard and high leather boots. He slowly and carefully made his way past the debris, scanning the carnage and destruction. Several strides from his ship he found his high ground and paused. His eyes scouring the many me's, eventually locking with my eyes, already intently locked onto his.
"Lucas Wander" said the man, his voice now booming through the same speakers previously used by Abbi. "The lot of you have been the subject of experimentation and victims of torture at the hands of the Neural Liberation Front (NLF). As commander of the Allied Planetary Systems, we have freed you from this bondage. At no small risk and expenditure of resources by our forces and myself, we have located this facility and fought a powerful and cunning enemy that has dedicated itself to the destruction of all organic life in general and humans in particular. To quickly answer questions that I know you have, this facility is both a BIO and PSYCH lab aimed at discovering and exploiting weakness in the human body and mind. For centuries the Neural Liberation Front have been cloning and testing a myriad versions of you, Lucas Wander. There is more, but it can wait until this operation is finished and you all have been moved to safety and security." He nodded at the mangled bodies and ruins of the transportation device. "I would not recommend that means of transportation" he said with a somber smirk. Then he slowly turned, making his way back into the ship, seemingly oblivious to the battle that continued to rage above.
A flood of emotions and questions ran through my mind. My knees buckled and I fell back to a sitting position once again, not from physical earth-quaking as before but from the a mind-quake, the rapid and involuntary relaxation of every muscle in my body. An almost rapture like joy overwhelmed me at being rescued and my eyes filled with tears. I seemed to be safe now. But mixed with the relief and joy of being rescued from what was, up until a few minutes ago, actually a quite nice experience, there was an undercurrent of dread. There were still so many unanswered questions and mysteries. And those answers were the potential seeds of a lot more sadness and anxiety, and even more questions, like nested Russian dolls. Why did I not remember the death of my parents? Why have I been isolated for the past 5 years? Were Abbi and Aimee friend or foe? Did I even want to know these answers? Maybe it was better to not ask the questions, just keep my head in the sand and be content with the here and now of things. Mostly I needed time, more time, to process this. It was too much, too fast.
The white haired man's gait lagged and then stopped with an uncharacteristic hesitation, he slowly turned and met my gaze once again. "There is one more thing I just have to add" he said, his regal air and noble gaze transforming into a scowling grimace. "Officially I am here to save you, but as the person who single handedly transmitted the entire genomic secrets of humanity to every civilization in all the multiverses, and has created a perpetual threat to human freedom and existence and attracted the attention of an untold number of intelligences to our little corner of the galaxy, I feel whatever suffering you have endured here is not only deserved, but should continue for the foreseeable future, at least as long as we are under threat, which is probably an eternity."
His grimace strangely reverted to its previous somber smile. He looked up expectantly just as Abbi's voice came back online. "Thank you Dr...., that was an excellent performance."
This was too much. Could I have done all those things? Could I be responsible for an unending threat to humanity? I wanted to say no, that it was impossible, but if I had forgotten my parents were dead, what else could I have forgotten? What had I done and how did I get into this living hell? Why did Abbi call this man doctor when he looked like a soldier in the middle of a war? As the questions racing through my mind slowed to a horse's gallop, and I began to get my bearings, I noticed that it had grown very quiet. The skies above were now clear, there were no more ships and no more fighting. Only the red moon remained, its surface shrouded in swirls as mysterious and unknown as my own past. All the Lucas's had grown quiet and somber, all their eyes on this man, all of them wondering what they could have done to deserve such a fate. As the man stood there, staring at me like a lunatic, I noticed the ship he had arrived in had lettering on it, most of a jumbled alien looking chicken scratch, but in the mix were numbers and letters that were recognizable, in particular a fairly large and conspicuous PSYOPS.