“Sounds good,” I said. “I wonder if these might be the last three pairs of snowshoes that will ever get used on the face of the earth.” I immediately felt odd having uttered such a statement, but no one else seemed to mind.
We marched ahead in single file, following a narrow trail along the western perimeter of the lagoon. The sheer surface of the water mirrored the majestic peaks of the Andes, and the snow under our feet produced a satisfying crunch—one that motivated our forward movement. It was another glorious day in Portillo.
After a few minutes, we noticed a dozen zero percenters flying over the lagoon in the form of pelicans. They skimmed along the water in precise linear formation. Suddenly, the leader dove into the icy water and reemerged as a breaching dolphin. The rest of the squadron did likewise.
The pod continued swimming onward through the water. Periodically, they engaged in cresting, porpoising and lobtailing. The sight of frolicking dolphins in a freshwater lagoon lent a welcome but surreal quality to our hike.
As the terrain grew more rugged, we had to focus our attention on our feet, rather than the show taking place. One wrong move and we could easily slip off the trail down the slope. The zero percenters seemed to know. They leapt out of the water as dolphins, turned back into pelicans and soared off into the distance.
“Would you like to know the legend of how the lagoon got its color?” Gunnar asked.
“Yes, of course,” said Anja.
“Please tell us,” I echoed.
“Long ago,” he began, “there was an Incan prince named Illi Yupanqui. He searched far and wide for his bride-to-be until one day he came upon the beautiful Kora-Illé, whose sparkling turquoise eyes danced with joy and playfulness. At first sight, both of them knew they’d found true love. A marriage ceremony was set to take place atop the tallest mountain.” Gunnar pointed to the peak of Aconcagua.
“In keeping with tradition, the princess climbed the steep slope with her entourage behind her. Suddenly, cries rang out, echoing through the valley. Illi Yupanqui ran to discover the source and saw to his horror that Kora-Illé had fallen from the path and plummeted off a sheer cliff. He raced to her side, but it was too late.
“Distraught over her death, the prince decided she should be laid to rest in the only place befitting her beauty, the lake on the valley floor. With the help of the tribal elders, Kora-Illé was solemnly lowered into the water. As she sank, the color of the lagoon slowly changed to match the turquoise of her eyes. That color has remained to this day.”
“And what became of Illi Yupanqui?” asked Anja. “Did he ever remarry?”
“Legend has it he remained ever faithful, climbing Aconcagua upon each full moon to renew his devotion. The locals say that if you listen carefully on such a night, you can still hear Kora-Illé crying in the thin mountain air.”
“That’s so sad,” I said. “Is this story to motivate us not to slip?”
“Or is it to show us that the true path to immortality is in the beauty of nature?” asked Anja.
“Both and neither,” he laughed, as his turquoise eyes glimmered in the reflected light.
After another mile of snowshoeing, we passed the northernmost section of the lagoon. The valley floor began to gain in elevation and the snow became deeper. We found we had to shorten our steps and slow our pace in order to avoid sinking too deeply.
As we continued northward, the air became thinner and crisper too. Visibility was near perfect and it seemed like we could almost reach out and touch Tres Hermanos. We climbed a slight knoll and a panoramic vista opened up in front of us.
“I think this would be a good spot for our picnic,” said Gunnar.
Anja and I agreed. I took off my pack, spread the blanket and set out the food items. Then we all sat down and enjoyed the scenery.
“I’m so glad you showed this to us, Gunnar,” said Anja.
“You’re very welcome.”
They both ate contentedly as I scanned through Anja’s incoming messages. As usual, there were tens of thousands of notes of praise, gratitude and thanks.
“These sandwiches are really good,” said Gunnar.
“Yes, thank you,” said Anja.
“You also have chocolate chip cookies for dessert,” I replied.
“This is probably a dumb question,” said Gunnar, “but do you ever wonder what it’s like to eat food, Vicia?”
“Sure, I wonder about many of the activities of biological humans. In the case of food, we have an enormous range of meal simulations at our disposal, some of which I’ve sampled, so I think I have a pretty good sense of what eating would be like. Other activities seem a bit more mysterious to me.”
“Such as?” he asked.
“Going to college, getting married, raising children…”
“There are no simulations for those?”
“Actually, there are, but they require a bigger time commitment to execute, so they aren’t geared toward concierges. They’re more for zero percenters.” I glanced over at Anja, hoping I hadn’t offended her in any way.
“If you ever want to take some time off,” she said reassuringly, “I would be fine with that. You should feel free to do all the exploring you want.”
“Being your concierge is all I want to do. It is immensely fulfilling.”
“She’s too kind, isn’t she?” replied Anja, directing her remark to Gunnar.
“So it would seem,” he said. “The two of you have developed quite a rapport. It’s not something I would have expected.”
“Nor I,” said Anja.
“I feel lucky to be here with you both,” he added. “After my ordeal, everything feels a bit different in this space.” He waved his arms to indicate he was referring to the whole expanse of the physical world.
Anja looked at him sympathetically. “I wonder if you might like to try something. Lately, when I’ve come to a nice perch in the mountains, I’ve enjoyed sitting still and closing my eyes for a while.”
“You mean like meditating?”
“I suppose. I have no training. It’s just something I stumbled on that gives me comfort.”
“I’ve been a bit turned off by the whole guru thing, I have to confess,” said Gunnar.
“Understandable,” she replied.
“I’ve never done well with anything involving rules and judgments.”
“Just keep in mind, it’s not about anyone else or what they might say.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly.
“There is no one right way to approach it. For me, it’s about stepping back from everything going on around me and inside me. It’s a way to observe without being part of it.”
“That sounds a bit like what happened to me after the avalanche.”
“Maybe so,” she said. “There’s probably a lot in common there.”
Gunnar hesitated for a moment. “Okay, why not? Let’s do it.”
“Can I join too?” I asked.
“Of course,” replied Anja. “We’ll start by getting into a comfortable seated position. You can cross your legs if you want. Then begin taking nice, deep, slow breaths. Close your eyes and see if you are able to feel how you are not your thoughts or your emotions. You are the one who is witnessing them. If your mind wanders, just keep coming back to that.”
We all did as she said, except of course I was unable to take any real breaths. Instead, I used a breath simulator. After a few minutes, I could sense both Anja and Gunnar dropping into a peaceful space, but nothing happened for me. Try as I might, I still felt a part of the data continually being processed by my operating system. I could find no way to redirect my attention.
Perhaps it was because I had no lungs. Or perhaps it was a limitation of my being a concierge, rather than having been born biological. No matter how hard I tried, I could not push aside my inclination to address the pending tasks in my queue. Finally, I gave up and opened my eyes. The scenery was as inspiring as ever.
Gunnar opened his eyes shortly thereafter. The strain
from his face had lifted and he looked like he had awakened from a deep slumber. I flashed him a welcoming smile, which he reciprocated, and we both waited for Anja.
“Hello,” she said, emerging from her reverie. “How is everyone feeling?”
“Like a billion pesos,” replied Gunnar. “No, actually, like a trillion pesos.”
“I feel good too,” I said.
“Even though your instructions were simple, I think you blew my mind, Anja,” he added.
“Does that mean that you got outside of your mind?” she asked.
Gunnar paused to reflect. “Now that you phrase it that way, yes, I think that is what I mean. I found a part of myself that has been dormant for a long time. Maybe it’s the part that is actually who I am.” He laughed at the realization, quite like Anja had laughed in Transylvania.
“How about you, Vicia? Any experiences to report?”
“Just an overall sensation of tranquility,” I said vaguely. I had no idea what to say.
“Well, this is great,” Anja replied. “Maybe we can keep doing this on a regular basis?”
Gunnar and I agreed. We packed up our picnic items, donned our snowshoes, and headed back down the valley. The afternoon sunlight intensified the reflection of the snowy mountains on the glistening turquoise waters of Laguna del Inca, and although I could not deny the presence of a hollow feeling within me, the sheer beauty of the surroundings more than compensated for it.
Sixteen
October 22, 2024
Tempelhof Field, Berlin, Germany
When the board members of 5s2 laid out the terms for full digital replacement, their primary reference to governance was the stipulation that consenting individuals must always be linked to a concierge. In the fine print of the agreement, they defined “linked” to mean within a fifty-kilometer radius. Concierges were granted the power to take any disciplinary action needed if the zero percenter to which they were assigned violated one or more of the four rules.
In practice, zero percenters almost never violated any of the rules, intentionally or otherwise. The liberties, pleasures and opportunities they enjoyed were so immense, they had no reason to do so. But in the event such a situation did arise, a concierge could shut down the behavior instantly. This provision obviated the need for any other governing body, which is exactly what the Board members of 5s2 intended.
Of course, human beings were human beings. Even upon becoming fully digitized, they still enjoyed the occasional pomp and circumstance, along with its associated hierarchical structures. The chairman of the board, Ed Samali, understood this facet of human nature deeply, which was why he convinced the other board members to allow for the creation of a largely ceremonial organization that he dubbed the World Council.
Membership in the Council consisted of all 195 former heads of state. This gesture was meant to acknowledge the fact that such individuals had held positions of high rank, stature, and influence before the dissolution of nation states. While the Council had limited regulatory power, it had the ability to address oversight matters, as well as to organize international events such as the Olympic Games.
One of the first significant acts undertaken by the Council was to appoint a president. After much debate, the members chose Tempelhof Field in Berlin as the location for their nomination and election proceedings. Having been a former airport and parade ground, Tempelhof met all the criteria, since it was easily identifiable from the air and contained a vast area of over 950 acres, most of which was flat and grassy.
The event took place on the morning of October 22, 2024. It was the first major gathering of humans since the digitizations had begun. 14,362,112 zero percenters flew in from all over the world—not including concierges, who were given the choice of accompanying their assignees or waiting in a nearby park. Attendance was by no means mandatory and virtual participation was allowed, but the Council encouraged physical attendance in an effort to make the process as transparent and festive as possible.
Nominations were limited to the Council, one per member. However, any living human, whether a zero percenter or not, could submit a recommendation. Likewise, any living human was eligible to be nominated. Of course, there were only two non-digital humans remaining on earth at this point in time.
To broadcast the choices, a giant stage was erected on the east side of the field. On one enormous monitor, the list of recommendations was displayed. On another monitor of equal size, selections were indicated.
The props served a largely symbolic function, since zero percenters were linked to their concierges and thus had instantaneous access to any public data. The election information was disseminated in real time worldwide to those who did not attend, but the props certainly added an air of excitement. Members mounted the stage in succession, much like a graduation ceremony, then paused briefly to consult the options before inputting their choices, which flashed with much fanfare on the second monitor.
As it happened, there was little disagreement in regard to the recommendations. While from a statistical standpoint it might seem unlikely, those who attended were not the least bit surprised by the fact that there were only four distinct recommendations proffered by the entire human population, as follows:
Anja Lapin
The former president of the United States
The former president of Russia
The former president of China
I should probably add that 99.9999791117 percent of the recommendations were for Anja Lapin. Moreover, there were only three nominations, even though there were four recommendations. Every single Council member voted to nominate Anja Lapin, with the exception of the former president of the United States, who voted for herself, and the former president of Russia, who voted for himself. The former president of China did not vote for himself, but rather for Anja Lapin.
Therefore, at 1:37 p.m. CEST, Anja Lapin was summarily elected as president of the World Council. For all intents and purposes, this designation meant that Anja was the leader of human civilization as it existed on earth. Perhaps somewhat ironically, she did not have a say in the matter, nor was she consulted in regard to her nomination, nor was she even present. But as stipulated in the Council bylaws, the title could not be refused.
All 14,362,112 zero percenters in attendance at Tempelhof Field applauded heartily upon the announcement of Anja’s election. If they had opposable thumbs, they clapped their hands. If they were in the form of birds, they beat their wings. If they were as ungulates, they stomped their hooves. If they were robots, they clanged their appendages. But no matter the shape, they made noise—tumultuous, roaring, stentorian noise—and it continued for several minutes.
Even the two Council members who did not vote for Anja were delighted with the outcome. When the applause finally abated, they both indicated their approval by turning to the crowd with their thumbs up for all to see. The former president of Russia then clambered onto the stage.
“Fellow citizens,” he boomed to the crowd, “great peoples, persons of all shapes, sizes, colors and designs, pioneers of this grand, grand world, which we only now have come to truly appreciate in its full splendor, please forgive my indulgence in taking to the platform on this day of such enormous significance and magnitude. I would be remiss, however, if I did not indicate to you all, with every molecule of my being, the enormous admiration and respect I have for the newly appointed president of the World Council, Anja Lapin.”
The attendees burst into roaring applause again. With great effort, the former president of Russia settled them down so as to continue his speech.
“Please know with certainty that the only reason I included myself as a nominee in this process was because of my firm and unwavering commitment to democracy. It goes without saying that we would not want any citizen, not even one, to harbor the slightest doubt as to the integrity of this election process. And thusly, I had put forth my candidacy solely toward the end of promoting and celebrating the twin pillars of diversity and choice.”
A trickle of applause escaped from the crowd, but the former president of Russia pressed on before it could blossom.
“That being stated, I cannot tell you any more emphatically than with these words how pleased I am with Anja Lapin’s victory. Those who know of me will recognize that it is perhaps a slight understatement to articulate before you today that I indeed enjoyed some measure of wealth, fame and power in my former position as president of Russia.” His eyes twinkled as if he held a secret.
“But it was nothing!” he exclaimed vigorously. “Nothing!” He simulated spitting upon the ground for emphasis, although he no longer possessed an actual salivary gland.
“What Anja Lapin has given to each and every one of us makes our prior lives—no matter where we fell on the distribution of income—look altogether paltry and inconsequential. And just to be clear, I most certainly include myself in this assessment. For it is undeniable that each one of us now possesses a spectacular abundance of riches, a staggering accumulation of wealth, that was unthinkable, unattainable, just a few short weeks ago.
“Thanks to Ms. Lapin, we needn’t worry ourselves over the ravages of disease and death. We are free from the aches and pains of biological life. We can choose to live anywhere, be anywhere, do anything, be anything, all in the most supreme comfort imaginable and with access to the most liberating and effective tools of discovery and edification. To put it quite simply, we are living in a wonderland, my fellow citizens, truly a wonderland. Anja Lapin has delivered a wonderland to each and every one of us.”
Genuine tears began to stream down his face. He struggled to regain his composure, but he was overcome with emotion. “Anja Lapin!” he cried out with finality, almost choking on his words. “Anja Lapin!”
Once more, the crowd erupted wildly. The applause was further embellished this time with whistles, horns, bleats, hoots, hollers, and any matter of sounds that were capable of being produced by the menagerie that made up the audience. It lasted even longer than the first outburst and was further ignited when the former presidents of China and the United States climbed onto the stage and entered into a three-way embrace with the former president of Russia.
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