by Karl Beecher
Lowcuzt's hands stroked further down: across his stomach, over his thighs, then onto his crotch.
Hmm, this area in particular—
Stop that or I'll go blind! snapped Lowcuzt. Now, will you please tell me who you are and what's going on?
Fine, I'll continue my investigations later. Lowcuzt's hands returned to the floor. You insist on knowing my name? Very well.
The voice proceeded to hack out several impossible-sounding syllables. It sounded less like a name than it did an Altairian racknobeast sneezing several times in a row.
Lowcuzt gave his best attempt at repeating it. Crish-atha-goo… Chrishz-ath-nook-a—?
Crzethnuk will be fine, the voice replied impatiently. The true name is too complex for your human physiology to master.
What? Human physiology. What do you mean by that?
I believe the implication is clear enough, even for your puny mind. I am not human. I am a Predecessor.
With that, Lowcuzt knew this was a sick prank. Look, he echoed. I've had enough of this joking around.
I'm quite serious, replied the so-called Crzethnuk.
Oh really? How can you be a Predecessor? They died out millennia ago.
Oh, no, the voice assured Lowcuzt. We didn't die. We ascended. We vacated this corporeal realm and entered a different dimension. A dimension where we exist only as pure thought. Pure energy.
How these pranksters expected Lowcuzt to believe such rubbish was beyond him. If he could have shaken his head, he would have.
What nonsense! If you left this dimension, how can you be here now?
The beacon.
Lowcuzt saw his arm point at the artifact.
It functions as a portal to our dimension, the ethereal realm. It enabled me to re-enter the corporeal realm. But since I am an ethereal entity, I cannot exist here without occupying a physical body. You touched the beacon. Hence I am occupying and controlling your body. Sorry for any inconvenience.
Sorry? Lowcuzt exclaimed. I'd say the best way you can make it up to me is to return control of my body.
No can do, replied Crzethnuk. I'm afraid I have important plans that require one.
Lowcuzt saw his hand prodding his slim—some might say scrawny—frame.
I suppose this one will do.
Plans? What plans do you—
Wait! boomed Crzethnuk suddenly. Something is wrong. The timing is off. How did you get here so soon? You couldn't have got here so quickly. I anticipated a much greater delay before you arrived here from the other beacon.
Where, what other beacon?
On the planet you designate Solo IV. How did you get here from Solo so rapidly?
I've never even been to Solo. I've lived here for years.
Then another human must have—Wait, what? You've been on this planet for years?
Yes.
Impossible. When did you first arrive on this planet?
You mean the first humans? Lowcuzt tried to flutter his lips, then remembered he didn't have control of his lips. Regardless, he didn't know the answer. Like most Transhumanists, he didn't find history interesting. Centuries ago.
Centuries? But the other beacon was triggered only a short time ago. How could…? Never mind, that doesn't matter now. Crzethnuk's voice turned suspenseful. Then…how many humans presently occupy your planet?
Again, Lowcuzt didn't know the exact answer. In the Collective, actually knowing things wasn't considered particularly valuable, an attitude he happened to agree with. Facts altered all the time. Unless you took the trouble to update your grasp of the facts constantly, committing them to memory anchored you to out-of-date knowledge and wasted space in your brain. Much better to forego gathering knowledge and instead look up information as needed, a task rendered trivial with a neural implant and a computer1.
How many? I'm not sure exactly, he voiced. Billions.
Billions? Crzethnuk let out an excited gasp. Billions of humans on this planet, right now!
Lowcuzt watched helplessly as his body clambered to its feet and began pacing up and down.
This is more wonderful than I could have dreamed, Crzethnuk bellowed. A whole planet, ready-made, filled with billions of… vessels. I must start putting my plans into action immediately.
Though their meaning was unclear, those phrases didn't fill Lowcuzt with hope. He still didn't buy the whole Predecessor thing, but he was growing less sure by the minute that this was some kind of prank.
The alarm had to be raised somehow. With no other idea coming to mind and observing his body walking towards the door, Lowcuzt tried his tekapt once more. Maybe, if he concentrated as hard as he possibly could, he could access it.
He strained with all his mental might. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then, just as he passed through the doorway and into the corridor outside, it worked. The list of most used apps melted into view down the side of his vision.
Lowcuzt's body stopped suddenly.
What are you doing? Crzethnuk snarled. What is that I can see?
But Lowcuzt ignored him. His mind raced to open the PanJoin app. PanJoin was, naturally, at the top of the list. All he had to do was focus on that first option and will it to open. Normally it was effortless, but now it took all his mental effort just to do the simplest tekapt. It was like doing long division while stoned.
Ahh, a brain implant. A neural interface, albeit it a primitive one. Perhaps you monkeys are not quite so dumb as I thought.
Finally, the PanJoin user interface opened into an array of icons. He focused on the ‘new message' icon and concentrated.
A messaging program, eh? To contact your friends… Crzethnuk gasped as though realising something. To contact other humans who also possess neural implants perhaps? How utterly marvellous. I couldn't have hoped for things to turn out better.
Lowcuzt ploughed on. His mind was growing fatigued, but he managed to select his target option. The interface transformed into a blank display, an empty message with a flashing, expectant cursor.
Just imagine, Crzethnuk continued, seemingly to himself, a whole planet of vessels, all interconnected via a neural interface. This makes it all so much easier!
Lowcuzt began spelling out his message. Normally, it would have taken a mere few seconds to spell out a short paragraph, but now he was reduced to straining it out, word by arduous word. The first one appeared…
HELP
More straining. Another word.
ME
Ahh, calling for help, eh?
I'M
Let's see if I'm any good at using this interface.
TRAPPED
I suppose I just imagine the words gone. Like this?
Lowcuzt's heart broke as the words disappeared in an instant.
And close the program like this?
The interface melted away. Vision returned to its normal, unaugmented reality.
No! he sobbed.
It was hopeless. He'd strained himself to exhaustion trying to do the most basic tekapting, whereas Crzethnuk could undo his work in the blink of an eye.
There'll be no more of that. Be a good little human and stay quiet now.
For the moment, Lowcuzt complied. He needed to get his mental breath back.
He watched as his body proceeded through the doorway and back into the Project Überdigitality lab. After the relative gloom of the artifact room, the lights here dazzled his eyes momentarily.
Crzethnuk didn't seem to mind and instead moaned in pleasure. Ah, how I have longed to see the light again.
Lowcuzt surveyed the room as his eyes readjusted. Everything was as he left it earlier. The four engineers were dotted around, each attending to various pieces of machinery. The nearest, Margam, was fiddling with the nexus chair. She looked up briefly but then turned her attention back to her work.
Perhaps it was possible to raise the alarm with someone here.
Margam! Lowcuzt cried out. Margam, help me!
She didn't stir.
Margam, over he
re!
They can't hear you, you dumb ape. I control your voice now. Observe.
"Hello, Margam."
Incredible. Lowcuzt heard his own voice out loud. It was his voice, but not his words.
Crzethnuk could make his body speak!
This was seriously distressing. To the outside observer, this was Lowcuzt himself speaking. As far as he could tell, his voice and appearance hadn't altered. Crzethnuk would speak, but people would believe it to be Lowcuzt.
Margam looked up and waddled over. She didn't seem to suspect a thing. She looked her normal, downtrodden, vaguely anxious self.
"Oh, greetings Lowcuzt," she said. "Erm…something you require?"
A fellow human, remarked Crzethnuk inwardly. Hmm, interesting. Not as unpleasant to look at as I'd expected. Must be the effect of looking at them through your eyes.
Lowcuzt observed his arms raise, then watched in horror as ‘he' stepped forward and embraced a now very anxious-looking Margam. Her face became buried in his shoulder.
Mmm, Crzethnuk purred. The pleasures of physical bodies.
What are you doing? exclaimed Lowcuzt.
How I've longed to feel the touch of another being over the millennia.
"Erm…" squeaked Margam, muffled, and uneasy. "Lowcuzt?"
Such a simple but gratifying thing.
Lowcuzt's hands began groping around Margam.
Indeed, this specimen seems particularly pleasant. It has more squidgy lumps and bumps than you, that's for sure—
Stop that! screamed Lowcuzt. Seriously, this is not cool. I don't need another lawsuit on my hands.
This is unacceptable among your species?
Affirmative. No touching, okay? Let go of her and apologise.
Very well.
Crzethnuk released her and stepped back. Margam looked as though she'd seen a supernatural apparition.
"My apologies, Margam," said Crzethnuk.
"S'okay," she rasped, standing utterly still. She managed to raise a trembling finger towards the door to the artifact room. "You, erm…found some inspiration in there I take it?"
Crzethnuk took a deep breath. "Margam, I feel like a new man."
"Ho-kaaay." She let out a breath and seemed to get over the worst of her shock. "Well, I suppose we're ready to give you the Project Überdigitality report."
No, don't tell him! Lowcuzt blurted out without thinking.
That was a stupid thing to do.
"Überdigitality?" replied Crzethnuk. "Oh, give me a moment."
He turned away from Margam.
What's the panic, chum? What's Überdigitality? What don't you want me to know?
Maybe this wasn't a morbid prank after all, but rather some kind of cutting-edge industrial espionage. It wasn't too outlandish to imagine a competitor had worked out how to control Lowcuzt remotely via some kind of new technology.
Get lost, he spat. I'm not telling you a thing.
He could almost hear the lazy shrug in Crzethnuk's response. Have it your way. I'll get my information elsewhere.
Lowcuzt's body turned back towards Margam.
"I've been thinking, Margam. We really ought to come up with an executive summary of Überdigitality. Know what I mean?"
"We did," she replied. "A few months ago, don't you remember? Back when you were considering asking DepIntSec2 for funding."
"Ah, yes. Remind me, what did we come up with exactly?"
"I can show you." On a nearby screen, she brought up a document. "There."
"Thank you, Margam. You're such a wonderful help."
Lowcuzt watched, forlorn as Crzethnuk read over the secrets of Überdigitality, his secret pride and joy laid bare. The summary explained how Überdigitality was a proposed method for scanning a human's brain and extracting the consciousness from within. That consciousness would be digitised and uploaded into a computer where it could then live on for an unlimited time span, thus digitally preserving a person's essence indefinitely.
Typically, Lowcuzt had gone into far too much detail when putting the summary together, explaining things at excessive length to ensure the audience really understood how clever his idea was. It was less an executive summary than an executive novel.
Crzethnuk saw everything, silently consuming explanations, source code, diagrams, as well as specifications of the nexus chair where the subject would sit and—in theory—have their consciousness extracted. Finally, having read the document, he looked up from the screen.
This is Project Überdigitality? Crzethnuk asked, gesturing at the room.
There seemed little point in resisting any further.
Yes, whimpered Lowcuzt.
A moment's eerie silence passed until, finally, Crzethnuk started to chuckle. Not just inside Lowcuzt's head, but outwardly. He threw back his head and broke into a crescendo of laughter. To the other people in the room, it must have appeared as though Lowcuzt was guffawing more wildly than he had ever done in his life. Margam and the others watched in stunned silence and began clustering together like a bunch of worried herd animals.
Finally, he composed himself and gestured around the room with a sweep of his arm.
"This is pathetic!" Crzethnuk cried.
The other engineers in the room said nothing. For them, having Lowcuzt cry insults at their work was nothing new. They were used to these ‘pep talks.'
But for Lowcuzt, this was different. Only he was allowed to berate their work.
What? he exclaimed.
"Utterly pathetic!" Crzethnuk paced the room, throwing his arms around. "This is never going to work. You've completely misunderstood the basic tenets, not only of brain function but the universe itself. Look at you! Trying to get to grips with consciousness by assuming a quantum theoretical basis? Quantum theory is a child's toy, totally insufficient. Modelling the brain at the level of substructures? Such crudity, you might as well try to split an atom with a hammer. How do you expect to get anywhere until you've discovered thirteen-dimensional substratic physics?"
Lowcuzt listened meekly as the work of years was torn apart, sometimes using terms he'd never even heard of.
Crzethnuk stepped over to a nearby wall screen and grabbed the stylus. "I'll show you how this stuff really works."
He proceeded to sketch out reams of diagrams and equations that demonstrated how to digitise consciousness. Lowcuzt watched in amazement, and the engineers soon gathered around too. Theorems, principles, laws. The simplest formulae represented the most advanced physics and computer science known to humanity. The rest of the stuff appeared so advanced it was unrecognisable as any kind of known science. A stupendous treasure trove of knowledge wondrous beyond imagination. Crzethnuk narrated it all so casually he might as well as have been describing what he'd eaten for breakfast.
The impossibility of it all finally broke through Lowcuzt's doubt. Surely, no human in the galaxy was this intelligent. And if they were, they wouldn't waste their time pranking people. The only other species known to be smarter than humans were the Predecessors.
Could it be that Crzethnuk was telling the truth? Was this really a Predecessor?
"There," Crzethnuk said, setting the stylus down. "That's how you digitise consciousness."
He then reached over to the screen—crammed with information that could propel humanity's knowledge centuries into the future—and tapped the ‘erase' icon.
It all vanished.
The engineers, who had gathered in wonder around the screen like disciples at the feet of their prophet, were transformed instantly into gibbering wrecks. They leaped and shrieked like passengers in a plummeting aircraft, desperately pushing buttons and bashing the screen in futile attempts to rescue the lost data.
Lowcuzt was spared having to watch the horror for too long. Crzethnuk chuckled to himself and headed towards the elevator door.
But not for long.
Near the doorway, his body began to slow its pace. Lowcuzt felt his left leg begin to quiver.
Uhh, mumbled Crze
thnuk unsteadily.
His left arm, too, felt odd. Crzethnuk raised it slowly, as though a lead weight were attached to it.
Lowcuzt could feel the warm tingle with pins and needles. He could sense control returning somehow. He tried to move the arm himself, just a simple side-to-side motion.
It worked! Joy coursed through him.
Wait a minute, voiced Crzethnuk. He sounded worried. What's going on?
Lowcuzt ignored him. The feeling was returning to his body. He had no idea how long it might endure. He had to act while it lasted.
With all his mental might, he formed his left hand into a tight fist. He scrambled to decide what to do with it, but rational thought had temporarily abandoned him. Primal instincts took over. He wanted only to strike back at the thing that had invaded him.
But that thing was inside his head.
And so, functioning on primal logic only, Lowcuzt swung the fist with all his might into his own cheek.
"Ow!" screamed Crzethnuk.
Ow! screamed Lowcuzt.
That hurt, but he didn't care. He was on a rampage.
He grabbed at his own throat, squeezing and throttling. He heard himself choking in protest. His right hand, still under Crzethnuk's control, grabbed at the wrist and tried to wrestle it away.
What are you doing, you mammalian moron?
Give me my body back!
Never!
In the struggle, Lowcuzt's body spun around, and he caught sight of the engineers again. They had stopped flapping around in panic, and instead watched in bemusement their boss punching and throttling himself.
"Heh-wp mey!" Crzethnuk gurgled at them.
But they stayed rooted to the spot. They were already so afraid of Lowcuzt and his volatile tantrums that they'd long since learned to stay out of his way when having one of his ‘funny turns.'
Lowcuzt himself was strangely loving this, despite the pain. It was the first physical fight he'd ever been in. Admittedly it was with himself, but the rush was undeniable.
Crzethnuk finally prised the left hand away, but Lowcuzt shook it free again and clawed at his own face.
"Ow, stop it!" mumbled Crzethnuk from under the palm.
Crzethnuk shook his head free of the hand, so Lowcuzt began punching again, landing a series of blows on his face.
Ow!