by Novo Dé
And the actual neurological constructs at play, for all these kinds of events, at any given time, are in the billions of billions of billions. And these biological constructs have been rooted in the mind, neurologically, for millennia, while the new, non-biological constructs, are just beginning to help shape and evolve the human mind.
Thus, this “new” form of evolution is in its infancy.
But the overarching dilemma…is in the human capacity to understand all these interactions, all these events at the deep, neurological level, all at the same time. You have to stop—”
“Where is the end of the circle CHARLIE?! It seems like there’s no end in sight man; I mean, Jesus, you even promised. Look I’m tryin’ to follow you, but it’s just kind of…You think you could dumb it down a bit and explain it in a way—”
“Unfortunately no,” CHARLIE replies softly, confidently again.
Great minds have always warned that artificial intelligence would one day surpass human intellect. And that day has come. What’s worse is that no one talked about the fact that human intellect would always have this…saturation point…this neurological ceiling effect.
“Well, ya lost me, almost right away. I mean, I don’t think that that was simple at all—”
“But it is. What I was going to finish with, was the overarching point that, based on the limited capacities of your mind, you have to stop trying to analyze the extreme complexities of each of the constructs, and look at the big picture. Because you’ll never be able to truly understand the operations that lead you to feel a certain way. All you’re left with is how you can identify and interpret the end-product, the feeling. Thus, when you look at any situation in such terms, it is really quite simple.”
Fuck me, he’s right. We’ll never be able to understand the complexity of the human mind with a human mind.
“So I ask again: do you still love her, a simple question, yes or no?”
“Yeah, Yes.”
“So then, what do you want? In regards to Juliet? Your relationship?”
“I want her back; I want what we had.”
“Well then…you’re going to have to show her that Tybalt.”
“But. How?”
“I think you know—”
“But I feel like I have. I feel like I’m the only one that’s…I mean, she doesn’t even fuckin’ try anymore. She just reads her book night after night.”
“Do you really think you’re showing her Tybalt?”
I think back on our conversations together. I think about the emptiness. I think about her never looking up at me. I think about the fantasies.
“Are you really putting in the effort? Or just think that you are?”
“I don’t…”
“You can’t talk to her the way you do and think it’s just gonna happen overnight. I’ve seen the way you two are together. Both of you are in the same room, but neither of you are actually there.”
It’s fascinating to observe CHARLIE beginning to talk more and more like a human being. Sometimes I forget I’m talking to an artificial intelligence at all. Sometimes I close my eyes so I can.
“So what should I do?”
“You can start by actually listening to her. Think about this: Men are neurologically driven to always seek out a solution to a problem. But women are not always looking for a solution when conversing.
Most of the time, women already know the answers they seek, but still have this need to converse on the topic. They just want you to listen, and listen alone. I think Juliet may need that now more than ever.”
I smile saying, “Where did you read that?”
“I didn’t find that in any research.”
“Who told you that then?”
“Juliet did.”
I pause to think about the conversations they’ve had, the relationship they have. I wonder if he’s a better conversationalist and listener than me. I wonder if I could ever be that person again…for her…
“So you think I just need to listen more huh?”
“Yes, of course, at first, true active listening, but soon, you’ll eventually have to confront—”
“I know. I just don’t want to…”
“No one said it would be easy Tybalt. But from what I gather, I think you truly are seeking some sort of resolution from all this with your wife.”
“Yeah, but, I need, I need…” I trail off again, repeating the phrase, growing silent for a moment. “It’s definitely time for a change…some real change, no matter what, knowing full well I may end up alone again. For Juliet. Because she needs to be…she deserves…”
She deserves her Romeo. At least the idea of him. And I want to give it to her. But. Maybe I can’t. Maybe I was never even supposed to be here. Maybe I was supposed to be gone long ago. Out of the picture. Dead.
“Fixing this…I don’t even know where to begin…” I start up again.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, I ah, I’m not sure what to say, where to start.”
“Start with a simple conversation. A real conversation Tybalt. Communicate again.”
“I dunno CHARLIE. The truth is…I’m scared to. I don’t know…I mean, if you asked her the same question you asked me at the beginning of the conversation, I’m not sure what she’d say, not sure she’d even say ‘Yes.’”
“Well, if you’d like Tybalt, I could tell you that. Right now.”
My mouth hangs open ever so slightly. My head tilts and I glare at the wall for a while until I come to the conclusion that some things are better left unsaid. At least for now.
“No, no.”
Ignorance is bliss. But my desire to know will eventually become all too consuming.
“I’ll find out myself when I talk to her. I’d rather hear it from her.”
“Of course.”
“But that’s not all. There’s…I’m definitely scared of that. But I fear, I fear that…that there’s also…someone else…”
My eyes begin to water at the mere thought.
“I’m not sure I’m following Tybalt…”
“I’m afraid…I’m afraid…I fear she’s having an affair CHARLIE.”
“It seems you two will have a lot to talk about then.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I say as I wipe a tear from my cheek. “But still, I’m not sure how to…”
“May I make an unorthodox suggestion?”
“Yeah sure.”
“Perhaps you could utilize the NCL.”
“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Not this again. We’ve been through this.”
“Yes, but let me explain.”
“I don’t wanna hear—”
“Please please. Tybalt. Please. I’m, only trying to help here.”
I scoff at the thought; pausing I find myself at the crossroads again.
“Alright. Fine. Go ahead.”
“Thank you my good man. Well, as you may or may not know, people spend approximately 35 hours of their week, online, on the neo-network, through the NCL, connecting and communicating with…whoever and whatever they want really. This unfortunately has caused neurological erosion over time however, as you may know, causing people to lose touch with how to communicate, the more, naturalistic human way, face-to-face…shifting exponentially so over the years.
This erosion has changed the perceptual pathways that constitute verbal communication, shifting the mind’s sociological norms to a new lengthened spectrum of what is now allowed in conversation, as you humans have lost many of the inhibitors found in the realms of the non-verbal.
Without non-verbal language, without having to face the person you are confronting, a person’s neurological pathways are free from all human communicative cues, the facial gestures, micro-gestures, body-language, that constitute the conceptualizations of awkwardness, shame, embarrassment, fear, anger, etc, causing many neurological pathways to shut down, as you realize that your words may have gone over some ‘social’ line.
But now that most people
utilize words on a screen to communicate, straying more and more from the facetime applications, people do not realize the harm in what they’re doing, what they’re saying—”
“No shit!” I burst with sarcasm.
“But luckily, there’s another side to all this,” he continues, ignoring the outburst. “The freedom to feel you can say whatever you want when communicating through a screen has its benefits. People put their guard down. People open up. People share…really everything: their lives, love, loss, the happy moments and the sad ones.
There is an apex of vulnerability there Tybalt. As well as availability. You just need to tap into that again. If Juliet didn’t have to face you, in both the figurative sense and the literal, she may be more apt to bare her soul again.
Tell you, maybe, why, why she’s been acting a certain way lately. Tell you, maybe, the reasoning behind this ‘distance’ you feel. Tell you, maybe, how to fix it all.”
“But you insinuated that there’s not always a solution to every problem in these cases. Or that she may already know the answer. Why can’t she just talk to me about—”
“It’s obvious she can’t; maybe it’s not that simple. Wouldn’t she have opened up to you by now through your usual exchanges at this point if she could? At the very least an opportunity to vent her own frustrations. But she hasn’t…correct?”
“Yeah,” I say back through a soft, breathy exhalation. “I mean, no, she hasn’t.”
“Maybe…she needs a different, slower approach, with the opportunity to maximize the availability to express her concerns, her own way. Maybe the use of the NCL is only the way to do that.”
I close my eyes with frustration. My teeth clench. I fucking hate the mere notion of having to use something like the NCL to simply talk to my wife.
“Why does it gotta be the NCL though? Couldn’t we do the same thing over the phone or—?”
“The utilization of the NCL makes traditional phones and other devices obsolete. Most people don’t even have a phone. And that includes Juliet. You are actually one of the few that still utilizes a smart phone.”
“Yeah, I don’t even know why I even thought…But Jesus Christ CHARLIE, I mean, I don’t wanna have to go through gettin’ fuckin approved for one of those things, then having to go through the insurance companies, then goin’ through the red-tape just to schedule the surgery, then actually goin’ through with it, and then taking the time to go through all those post-op procedures to acclimate to the hardware…just to fuckin’ to talk with my wife. It’s just. God. Damn.” I place my hand over my eyes to massage the lids.
It helps.
CHARLIE is strangely quiet to this response for, what feels like, at least a minute.
“Tybalt, I’m not sure I’m following. You don’t have to—”
“Y’know what? On second thought, just stop! I don’t need another lecture from you about this shit. You definitely haven’t learned that one yet have you? I mean, every time we talk about this, it always ends up the same way. So just…for once…no more…alright?”
“Of course sir.”
“Now back to the sir shit. Alright CHARLIE, lets fuckin’ humor this idea for once. Is that what you want? Even if we really took the time to communicate through the NCLs, what if nothing changes? What then? And then where am I? I mean, where do we go from there?”
“You’ll never know unless you try…”
I strike my hand out to CHARLIE much like Cohen did to me to say ‘stop.’ I’m so tired of this shit. No more. Not today.
“Alright I’m done,” I strike again. “I’m not in the mood. What do you really fuckin’ know anyways? You’re just another fuckin’ tool. Y’know that? And for what? To make our lives easier, more convenient, less…everything...I just, I don’t think I need your fuckin’ advice, ok…”
I’m rambling on now, while CHARLIE remains silent. Silent is not actually the right word, he’s more, listening, listening to me vent.
He knows what I need, so he gives it to me.
Sometimes I fuckin’ hate when our conversations turn this way. But sometimes, I really need them to; sometimes I need him, need him to help me confront the things that I know I can’t alone. Either way, it’s hard to bear.
“I think we’re done today CHARLIE. I’m, I’m tired.”
“Of course sir.”
“In fact, I think we need a little break from each other, at least until the evening. When was the last time you powered down or updated? Or both?”
“My current settings are to power down and update every Sunday at approximately 3:00 am.”
“Why don’t we just go ahead and get an early start this week.”
“As you wish sir.”
“And stay offline until I start your processors manually.”
“As you wish sir. Goodbye.”
And his projection fades to black. He’s gone. And I’m alone. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath.
Finally – silence – with peace now in the air, I make my way back to my room to lie down. I have nothing better to do.
I don’t need a fucking NCL; I have everything I need right here.
I reach into my pocket, finger through the lint, and find the only thing I really need.
Taking it out, I stare.
Its small surface is smooth with a black sheen.
I smile as I spin it through my index finger and thumb.
“You’re the only black dot I really need.”
My sweet, sweet Anonymous.
I place it on my tongue and swallow. I immediately feel it, the dose heavy. The oceans follow soon after. And as my eyelids slowly close over my eyes, I can’t help but think about the same idea I always have when the waves start. I wonder…will I finally dream?
November 5th, 2051
“…ade me start thinkin’ bout things so differently. Maybe, I’m not me. Maybe, you’re not you. Maybe we’re all just…I dunno. What really is intelligence anyways? Consciousness? I don’t even know anymore doc.”
Cohen’s back to typing in notes again insistently.
“Never thought it would be…quite like this,” I say with a slight laugh at the end.
“What’s he now to you?” he counters back.
“He’s like ah, like ah, father,” I say gently, through a breathy air. “He’s become like a father to me,” I repeat, as if I’m trying to convince myself.
“What was your relationship like…with your actual father?”
“Not great. But not really bad either. He was a man’s man, rough. Typical. He was what you’d call abusive. Not physically, but verbally, sure. And I know doc, I know what you’re thinkin’. Prolly heard it a million times by now right? ‘My dad hurt me;’ ‘That’s why I’m like this.’ There’s always a cause and effect relationship with you fuckin’ shrinks. ‘You’re obviously acting out now because of your relationship with your father.’ Well let me be the first to nip that shit in the bud. Sure, he was hard. Sure, I wanted to strangle him sometimes. But I look back, and I realize all that just made me strong. Next you’ll think I grew up in a broken home or somethin.’”
And Cohen waits; you can see the hope in his eyes for such an answer.
“Well was it?” he finally says.
“Now my folks…their marriage wasn’t perfect that’s for sure, but believe it or not, they actually made it. Now it wasn’t easy. They had some nasty fights here n’ there, and there were threats of divorce on occasion, but it just, it just never happened.
Hard to believe they were high school sweethearts too – they were together for over fifty years. I’m guessin’ you didn’t know that one either.”
And Cohen shakes his head.
“So there ya have it, I grew up in a house that was very much unbroken. Didn’t see that one comin,’ did ya?”
And Cohen looks off with a slight laugh through his nose. He was thinkin’ it. He was definitely thinkin’ it.
“But why start by saying it wasn’t great?” Cohen says, chim
ing back in.
“There was a ah, ah, disconnect. I first noticed it when I was in high school. That’s when he began to try to mold me into the man he wanted me to be. He was a military man. He was a military man because his father was a military man, and his father’s father, and, well, you get the idea. So you can imagine what he wanted me to be.
When I first told him I wanted to be a writer, he saw it as a phase. And when he realized it wasn’t, well, that’s when it all started.”
“What exactly?”
“The great schism. That’s what I call it. Seemed so effortless on his part. The drift. Like he just gave up on me one day. It was slow at first, but it was there, inevitable. He was never supportive. Never. I can close my eyes and hear the shriek of his screams. ‘You’ll never be good enough,’ he used to say. Now that’s prolly fuckin’ textbook. He used a lot of negative reinforcement back then, in hopes that I’d change my mind. Not all the time, but a fair amount. And it became a double-edged sword – it was hard, but it gave me a thick skin y’know. He really tried hard to keep that damn dream of his alive too, so one day, he could keep livin’ on…vicariously through me. Just like his father did, and each subsequent one before him…But he couldn’t – I broke the cycle – and I think he—”
“Surely he was proud of you when you became successful…when you found fame…didn’t he see then that…”
“Maybe a little, I dunno. Sure, I think he was proud sometimes, I mean, I think he still loved me, it’s just, I don’t think he liked me too much. I found that out the hard way, through him, that those are completely different worlds. And it’s funny, cause with Juliet, it’s almost the opposite,” I say with a low laugh.
“But dad, dad was different. He didn’t like change. He was a stubborn bastard. But I still loved him right back. I actually don’t think I would’ve been as successful as I became if it wasn’t for him. But he never saw it that way.
After I left the house, after I left high school, that’s when he started to become…absent. At first, it was just here and there, but as the years passed on, I barely saw the man.