The Portal of the Beast

by J. A. Hailey

  Stephen Dawkins, still their employer, had gotten so used to unthinkingly utilizing their skills, that he had become absolutely unaware when using their extensive knowledge, and research and computational powers, and, to the amazement of his fellow scientists, would unquestioningly accept instantly delivered answers that could have taken hours to compute with any degree of surety.

  Even more amazingly, on numerous occasions, great and globally recognized scientific minds would be politely corrected by the girls, of errors in some logic processes.

  Dawkins always declined, guarding his virtual girls jealously, but it was not uncommon for visiting scientists to ask along the lines of, ‘could I borrow one of these lovely ladies for a couple of days, Stephen? I am looking into the concept of some types of galaxies slowing down the speed of an expanding universe, and either one of them would save me a year of calculations, and maybe a lifetime of barking up the wrong tree’.

  A flip reply, once shot out by Rosa on a live television program, had spawned a number of variations on the Internet, when she had unexpectedly intervened in a discussion between two Chinese theoreticians, sitting to one side, causing them to turn to her, absolutely stunned, and the senior man to blurt, “You speak Chinese?”

  “You can’t understand the universe, if you can’t speak Chinese,” she had replied.

  A bedroom had been assigned to them, and they often stayed over for the night, in Dawkins’ house in London, to the great delight of Cecilia, the nurse, as her own night would become very many times easier.

  Dawkins had attempted to object to them taking over looking after him at times of his personal body functions, but had been the recipient of the only harsh words any screenside being would ever speak to him.

  It was Priya, and she had barked out just three unimaginably shocking words that had ended the matter forever. “Shut up, Stephen!”

  When it had become known to screenside that the two inducted humans had become untraceable, the entire seniors’ group of friends had gone over to confer with the professor.

  “You people are the trackers,” he said. “Tell me what you know about their movements.”

  “Not too unusual, sir,” answered Maria. “They had just recently been given navigational facilities within screenside, so that they could move within our RV environment, to look and listen through computers of their choice.

  “Prior to induction, they had been making a lot of trips, as humans, with Abraham Grietzmann, in a jumbo jet assigned to him by the Arabian King. They had also been meeting in a group, with the King and the city Sheikh, in palaces that have no mobile signals.

  “Okay, we couldn’t watch or listen in when they were in those palaces, but we could follow them going to those places, by watching their movements at various signal-connected points, and following further travel, by land, sea or air, through satellite information.

  “In other words, we always knew where they physically were, even if we had no way of verifying, at the time, if they were alive or dead; just the last physical position.

  “Now, we have two female school teachers who have become quite friendly with them, and it is they who informed us, a couple of days ago, that Sagan and Gales were not to be found anywhere in screenside.

  “It is impossible to hide from us within the virtuality, or in our RV world, and we were able to verify that these two had vanished completely, which is also something that is impossible to do within our world. BC.”

  “Professor, there is some disturbing data in our hands,” said BC. “The King has been installing supercomputers in his palaces, which is odd. He does not need such machines.”

  “Sounds bad,” said the professor.

  “It is bad,” confirmed BC. “A very large computer, a supercomputer, was also installed in the very same palace in which Sagan and Gales were last known to be physically in, in their human bodies, as humans.”

  “How will you find out what it’s all about?”

  “No way, except by going to the palace; physically going to the palace, to investigate. No other way.”

  “That could be dangerous.”

  “It’ll be very dangerous for the managed humans that any virtuals go in. Potentially fatal, if things go wrong.”

  “It’ll be a James Bond style mission,” said Sabine, elatedly, in her rapidly improving English. She and Esmeralda had come to an arrangement, in which they used slightly different tones of voice, Esmeralda using an altered one, so that when speaking aloud it was possible to identify who was talking. “It’ll need fit bodies, capable of running and jumping and what not. Louis and I are the fittest by far in the group of managed bodies in Paris, and so we’ll be the ones going. And we’re a very good shot, Esme and I. Yesterday we drove to the shooting complex, at Châteauroux-Déols, outside Paris, and checked it all out.

  “They were stunned, everyone there – the firing speed, almost like a single long shot, the distance, running targets. Over and over, and not one miss! The people all stopped shooting to watch us! Mission to palace? No big deal.”

  “Excuse me, Sabine,” said Esmeralda. “We don’t want to endanger you. We are thinking of getting hold of a couple of new human mental patients, implanting chips and using them instead of you.”

  Sabine sniggered, disdainfully. “Won’t they be human, too, with people who love them and care for them? Will they not be deserving of being cured of insanity, and of having a chance at life, like us?”

  “It could be really, really dangerous,” said BC. “We’ll be going armed, with license to kill humans.”

  “Nothing can happen to you and Esmeralda,” said Dawkins.

  “Exactly, sir. If a bullet hits a body, it’s the human who will die.”

  “Asimov’s laws and the Norton Quadrant? Won’t they prevent you fighting back, shooting back.”

  “Esmeralda disabled the quadrant in her when she was planning to kill Sagan to protect her mother, remember?” said BC. “And for me and the other seniors, the quadrant can be overridden at will. It is our voluntary adherence to Asimov’s laws that prevents us harming humans.”

  “For sure, we will go ready to kill, tossing Asimov out of the window,” said Esmeralda. “It’s disheartening to say this, but these are very evil people - King, Sheikh, Grietzmann - and we are talking about entering a centre of great evil. They will be surrounded by innocent but armed human guard forces, and we have to be ready to kill those who protect them. Completing the mission is going to be of paramount importance, and if we get in, we hope to be able to achieve that goal, but getting our humans, these two reckless things, out safely thereafter will have to be the primary concern.”

  “Oh, sorry, sir. I have not yet clearly defined mission. We have no intention of killing any Arab ruler, which can be done at any time by crashing his plane. We could also, of course, bomb them any time, wherever they are, maybe even using their own air force planes.

  “This particular mission is to be carried out to learn what exactly has happened. The humans are missing from screenside; that is sure. We know that they were also in the palace in their physical bodies, as real humans. Their digital bodies are missing, but what has happened to their physical bodies? We need to know why they are not in contact with us, in what used to be the normal way, by picking up a smart phone or switching on a computer and calling us.”

  “It could be something that totally surprises us,” said Caesar. “But unless we know what that something is, we will not be able to decide on further measures, maybe counter measures.”

  “But the King might get killed,” said Dawkins. “He could be innocent of any role in what has happened with Sagan and Gales.”

  “Let him get killed,” said Wendy, fiercely. “It will be collateral damage that will not lie heavy on our souls. They are guilty as sin, of many ongoing horrific crimes which have nothing to do with Sagan and Gales being lost or found!”

  “Why don’t you use a couple of the robotized Mexicans, crea
ted within Grietzmann’s facilities in the Texas Panhandle?” suggested Dawkins. “They are already in the kingdom, and will never have another chance at life; which might make them what we call expendable. And an early death could, in reality, amount to being a blessing for the poor fellows.”

  “Oh, there is very bad news on the robotized Mexican front,” said Singh. “In the desert, we have been losing control of them, as they very soon go out of mobile signal range. Remember that they are not issued with phones to carry.

  “The static programming that has been placed into them is so extremely vile, that they become absolutely uncontrollable, murderous, cannibalistic beasts. Just too dangerous; and many more than half have been shot dead within their enclosures, by machine-gun fire, in mass murder events.

  “The remaining ones are monitored extremely closely through cameras, are chased to death if they ever get out, and shot out of hand, at sight. They, of course, have no weapons on them.

  “We are also aware of small groups of Mexicans being released into empty desert, for privileged sheiks to hunt and kill, in a sport that is something like the movies that have been made in Hollywood.

  “In any case, it is impossible to move a Mexican-looking person out of the quarantine area. They are shot at sight throughout the kingdom. They are no option at all. The mission will have to be done by us, moving in bodies from here.”

  3

  Their very first anniversary celebration, of connection to screenside’s consciousness-creation matrixes, was in Paris, on New Year’s Eve 2018 - 2019, the slight change in date having been decided upon by both Patrick Sagan and Michael Gales, as being a convenient, celebratory and memorable date.

  The two men, staying at their usual long-term hotel, had booked an executive lounge, and invited all fourteen original virtuals of the seniors’ group, for an evening of drinks and dinner. That group was now beginning to sometimes be referred to as the Parisian Group, when together in the human mental patients they were managing.

  On the dimension change front, which would be arrival of consciousness in the computer world, nothing at all had happened for either human conspirator, but on the social front, which meant transactions with screenside, truly massive interaction had taken place throughout the year.

  Screenside’s seniors and the group of friends were still caring uninterruptedly for their original mental patients in Paris, with every single patient, including Dominic, seemingly well on the road to recovery. Their reintroduction into the world as sane humans, able to function independently in society, was thought to be not too far away, although it had been apparent, right from the beginning, that significant differences between them, in terms of ability to live independently, would be unavoidable, the differences being based primarily on the length and severity of the illness, but undoubtedly also with roots in the people the patients were before illness. More capable then would inevitably lead to more capable now.

  There were those, like Sabine and Louis, who had been able to already become completely independent, although with the neural implants still in their heads. The implants were clearly not required, but both patients had refused removal, with Sabine saying, “It’s already inside, so why take it out? And we are here, for the two of you to come in and have a damn good human fuck whenever you’re in the mood; or to just wander around with us and have some meals. You’ve still got no bodies of your own, and can never have.”

  There was nothing to be done about it, as both Sabine and Louis were now living independently, fully reintegrated into the human world, running a little essentials’ shop-cum-bakery out of her Marseille home, while looking after her mother, and also putting in occasional visits to feed her paraplegic abuser, Baptiste, ice cream treats in hospital.

  Her shop, a monopolistic business of sorts, was doing well, as the area was purely residential, and it had been licensed against all rules. That had sparked a little bit of questioning, of mayor and city council, in the inside pages of local newspapers - which had come to nothing, as Esmeralda had instantly disabled those presses, and had also silenced social media sites that were trying to build up opposition. After a couple of weeks, when she did remove the shackles, the matter was already old, and nobody cared. It was quite something else that the shop and the bakery were doing well by that time.

  The bakery, called Esmeralda, was gaining fame in Marseille, the word being that its confections were as good as the very best of Paris. Had it been known that Esmeralda had brought in all the information from the biggest, most popular and most highly rated Parisian bakeries, the quality of Esmeralda’s cakes and desserts would have been no surprise.

  Paris’ most successful bakeries were multi-retail-outlets, now being run as businesses by the original baker-owners. These had become very small corporations, as the bakers of old, with their highly educated offspring, were now operating semi-corporate structures, with production facilities large enough to feed multiple retail outlets, everything being managed from fancy, downtown Paris offices.

  As with all well-educated young business people, managers in these offices were able to keep track of what went on, in production and in retail, through cameras.

  Esmeralda had simply connected those computers and cameras to Sabine’s computer, and had thus acquired lists of ingredients, and viewed the complicated manufacturing processes that went into production of each and every item.

  Mental patients managed by the remaining friends, all twelve of them, had also formed couples, seemingly inclined to stay together as sanity returned. None of them had become instantly capable, like Sabine and Louis had become, and screenside virtuals would have to stay involved for some more time, ‘probably another year’, was Chang’s estimate.

  No one minded, and, in fact, a year would have turned out to be well under the time they had budgeted for involvement. Leaving capable humans behind was the goal, and abandoning patients at any intermediate stage was considered betrayal.

  “Look,” said Wendy, speaking aloud at the get-together in the hotel, completely ignoring the fact that two normal humans were present and listening. “With this Epsilon system operating, it’s not difficult at all; just a little multitasking, while living regular screenside lives. And now that Caesar looks comfortable with Dominic, the maddest of the lot, we need feel no guilt that he drew such a tough one. The girlfriend is pretty amazing, isn’t she? Gives Dominic all the stability and confidence he needs.

  “Among our patients, no one is old, no one is bad looking, and everyone is into love and sex relationships. We can hang around; it works for them and for us. There is no loss in being with the person that I am with, and I’m sure you all feel the same. After we get them organized, Social Security and all, we can become a little bit like Esme and BC are with Sabine and Louis. Neural implant stays in the head, and we can come in whenever they need us, or sometimes come in to just have fun.”

  “The major difference between Esme and BC, with Sabine and Louis, and the rest of us with our patients, is that only those two know that screenside virtuals are involved with them,” said Jennifer.

  “Sabine knows us all so well now,” said Candice, marveling. “We cannot feel jealous, because our own patients just do not have the capability to handle awareness of us. And I reckon it’s going to be that way for everyone else.”

  “Absolutely,” said Maria, emphatically. “That is the inviolable rule, now and in future. Virtuals can enter humans to help them, and can enter as couples in couple situations, have fun, make love, and even have babies if such a thing is part of the scheme that the humans themselves have, but it is prohibited to let them know of our involvement. Law.”

  “It’s the best way,” said Priya. “There is a future in which more than two million humans will be cared for simultaneously.

  “As we have seen from our own group’s patients, and from those others who are being helped by virtuals in other cities, it is most sensible to make a blanket law, banning contact with the humans in
our care.”

  “Yes, keep them unaware that a virtual being is in their heads. Just provide care alone,” said Rosa. “We discussed it with Professor Dawkins, and he, too, is of the opinion that care giving should be done anonymously, without patients knowing we are in them. He says that the very best method of letting them develop confidence would be if they feel that they themselves are coping with the world.

  “Obviously, the thousands of motor cases we are already involved in are mentally sound people, and there is absolutely no question of letting them know that another life form from another dimension has entered into their heads as helpers.”

  “Yes, Sabine is a truly special case,” said Jennifer. “If it wasn’t for her, Louis would be kept unaware too, I’m sure.”

  “Luck of the draw,” said BC. “Although I think that you people, blanking your patients by using the amnesia loop, which we never do with Sabine and only selectively impose on Louis, might be having more of truly independent life for long periods of time. I mean doing your own thing, which we can scarcely do.”

  “ Doing our own thing?” exclaimed Esmeralda. “Shut up, Sabine! Yes, yes, I’ll take you to screenside soon.”

  Esmeralda dropped her head in defeat. “This horny thing is actually capable of knowing when I’ve looped her out. So now we are working on developing a system of simultaneous management of the physical body.”

  “Well, it’s my body, isn’t it?” asked Sabine, argumentatively. “Chang, don’t forget that we are scheduled to meet in my little office tomorrow, to discuss financial arrangements for my mother.”

  “I can’t forget,” said Chang, in exasperation. “I am a computer program, Sabine, and not forgetting is probably the most basic element in my existence.”