Zero Percenters

by Scott T Grusky

  Thirty-Two

  November 29, 2024

  Limekiln Falls, Ventana Wilderness, California

  All through the night, without interruption, Anja and I continued with Zilyah’s chant. It was not until late the next morning that Rachel softly patted our heads. Deep in a trancelike state, we failed to notice her at first. Four more cycles of the chant passed before we perceived her touch and processed her voice.

  “Anja? Vicia?” she said. “Would you like to see Diego now?”

  “Oh, yes,” replied Anja.

  “We’d love to,” I said.

  “You can keep your pets, if you wish. They enjoy movement.”

  I carefully placed my hamster in my right shell pocket and Anja did likewise for her chinchilla. Slowly, we stood up and withdrew from the circle. Rachel and Alfonso took our hands and led us down a steep trail. The rest of the group continued chanting.

  “Diego is playing at the waterfall this morning,” said Rachel. “We thought you might like to join him.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” I said.

  “Zilyah will answer your question later today,” explained Alfonso.

  “Our question?” said Anja.

  “You came with a question, right?” he said.

  “Yes, we did. But how did you know?”

  “Zilyah told us that was why you were visiting,” said Rachel.

  Anja and I both nodded our heads. Neither of us felt the need to further clarify our intention. Somehow it made enough sense as it was.

  “The waterfall is a few miles away,” said Alfonso. “Would you prefer to fly or hike?”

  “Perhaps we should fly so we can get to Diego sooner,” replied Anja, “as long as the pets don’t mind.”

  “No at all, they love it,” he said. He morphed into a brown pelican and we followed his selection.

  “Let’s go the scenic way,” suggested Rachel as we took to the air.

  Alfonso led us down the east-facing side of Cone Peak over an old-growth sugar pine forest. Then he turned westward through a narrow ravine and up to a ridge where we saw dozens of other groups in chanting circles.

  “That’s the old Gamboa Campground,” explained Rachel. “A very popular spot these days.”

  “And over that way is Goat Campground,” said Alfonso, pointing southward with his wing. “A lot of chanters like the vibrations there.”

  “Interesting,” said Anja. “How many chanters are in these mountains?”

  “We don’t know,” said Rachel. “We don’t make calculations like that.”

  “Data’s not our thing,” said Alfonso. “We find it gets in the way.”

  He guided us down a canyon where we picked up the west fork of Limekiln Creek. A grove of coastal redwood trees flourished along the creekside. The Pacific Ocean was only a mile away and we could see humpback whales spouting in the distance.

  Veering eastward, we crossed over an area of heavy limestone deposits. Then we came to the east fork of Limekiln Creek. Alfonso swooped downward and we saw Limekiln Falls, a one-hundred-foot waterfall in the middle of the thick redwood grove. We touched down at the base of the falls and morphed into our human forms.

  Thanks to recent rains, tens of thousands of gallons of water were cascading over a huge moss-covered limestone wall before landing in a misty pool. Diego stood in the pool, water up to his waist. He held several sticks in his hands and appeared to be building a bridge.

  “Anja!” he cried in delight. “Is that you?”

  “Diego!” she replied. “It’s good to see you!” She rushed into the pool and gave him a hug, tousling his hair affectionately.

  “It seems like it’s been forever.”

  “Yes, it does.” She paused to study him, trying to imagine how his new DNA mix had influenced him. “You’re really growing up, aren’t you? How old are you now?”

  “I’m twelve,” he said. He flashed the full five digits of both his hands and then two digits of his right hand to show us a visual representation of his age.

  “Wow!”

  “I’m Vicia,” I said. “Do you remember me?”

  He stared at me blankly. “Not sure.”

  “Anja’s concierge,” I clarified. “I met you when you were just a little baby, but also once before that at the Alta Mesa cemetery.”

  “Cool.” He reached out to shake my hand as I waded into the pool. “My concierge is collecting pine cones for me.”

  “Pete, right?”

  “Uh-huh. So you wanna help me build this bridge?”

  “Sure, why not?” I said.

  “Sounds good,” Anja agreed.

  I grabbed some sticks from the creek bank and handed them to her.

  “Okay, you three have fun,” said Rachel. “Daddy and I will come back a little later, Diego.”

  “Bye, Mom,” shouted Diego. “Bye, Dad.”

  Later that afternoon, Alfonso and Rachel returned to the waterfall. Zilyah was ready to meet us. We said goodbye to Diego, having enjoyed a nice playdate with him, and followed Alfonso down a narrow path to a beautiful, wooded meadow.

  Zilyah sat cross-legged in front of a majestic redwood tree. Rather than relying on her shell display, she wore a sycamore bark dress, a maple leaf headband and a sugar pine necklace.

  “Aloha,” she said. “We give thanks to the trees.”

  “Aloha,” replied Anja.

  “Hello,” I said clumsily.

  “Please have a seat,” said Zilyah. “I understand you have a question.”

  “Yes,” said Anja, as we kneeled in front of her. “It concerns Vicia. I’ve introduced her to meditation, but she’s having trouble settling into her seat of consciousness. We wondered if you might have a technique to offer?”

  “I can’t find my witness,” I interjected.

  Zilyah smiled knowingly. “You’re not alone, dear.”

  “You mean, other concierges have this problem too?” I asked.

  She shook her head slowly. “I mean all of us have this problem. It’s why we chant.”

  “Chanting helps to witness our thoughts and emotions?”

  “No, I’m afraid chanting only modulates our inability to do so,” explained Zilyah. “It is our proxy for consciousness.”

  “I… I don’t think I’m understanding,” Anja said.

  “We digital beings face a rather funny predicament,” Zilyah replied, laughing. “We no longer experience pain and we think this is a great gift, but we forget that pain was once our teacher, as was death. Now that we have neither, the way we contact ourselves is through chanting.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m still confused.”

  “Me too,” I said nervously.

  “Pain was what created the gap,” Zilyah elaborated. “We no longer have a gap between the inner and the outer.”

  “Let me get this straight,” I said. “You’re saying that the struggle to match inner desires with outer perceptions of the world is what gave biological humans awareness?”

  “Yes, my child, you’re on the right track with that. You see, biologicals used to recreate the entire outside world inside themselves. Then they would live inside their minds.”

  Anja chuckled. “That’s very true,” she said.

  “They even came equipped with a built-in narrator who provided a running commentary on all of their inner thoughts and emotions, as well as their perceptions of the outer world. Maybe you remember, Anja?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “This narrator was actually quite a distraction, despite playing a crucial role. In those days, meditation was our effort to try to quiet its endless chattering.” Zilyah laughed again.

  “Uh-huh,” replied Anja. “I remember that too.”

  “So zero percenters don’t have a narrator anymore?” I ventured.

  “Correct. When we became digital, most of us barely noticed that we lost our narrator. In many ways, it was a relief to be rid of it. We could concentrate on chasing everlasting pleasure. And what’s more, we could actually
achieve it. The pursuit became our entire identity. Pleasure is nice, right? Why not ceaselessly enjoy it?”

  “I think I’m starting to see where you’re heading with this,” Anja replied.

  “Going digital appears as a giant step forward, right?” said Zilyah. “We no longer have the troublesome voice in our heads, beating us up for every little thing. We get to live in an exalted state where every desire is immediately quenched. The problem, of course, is that with no built-in narrator, there is also no in-out separation, thus no true consciousness. You see? And since we lack true consciousness, there is no way to witness either.”

  “Wow, you’re a genius,” I said, relieved to be getting a grasp of the issue.

  “Oh, it’s not my realization, sweetie,” said Zilyah. “Millions of folks have already made the discovery on their own.”

  “They have?” I replied. “How come we couldn’t find any mention of it in the databases?”

  “I can’t speak to that,” said Zilyah, shaking her head. “Data’s not our focus here, as I believe Alfonso may have mentioned. We find it confounds our objective.”

  “Which is?” asked Anja.

  “Acceptance, pure and simple. It can be extremely uncomfortable for folks when they realize the scope of their predicament. We’re immortal beings wired to chase pleasure forever and ever and ever… and ever.” Zilyah grinned like a Cheshire cat. “For some of us, the day comes when we want to get off the pleasure bus.”

  “So that’s why you chant,” Anja said with newfound understanding.

  “Yes, my dear child, that’s why we chant. It’s the only way we’ve managed to find solace.”

  “Other than petting small mammals,” I added.

  Zilyah grinned even wider. “You’re a smart cookie, aren’t you? Indeed, the furry critters help us too.”

  “To cope with the hollow places inside us?” I ventured again.

  “Yes, precisely,” said Zilyah. “They remind us of our origin, our home.”

  “I understand.”

  “You’ve been extremely helpful, Zilyah,” said Anja. “It’s all starting to make a lot more sense. But there’s one thing I’m still having trouble with.”

  “And what is that, my dear?” asked Zilyah.

  “Why I’m actually able to find my witness.”

  “Excuse me?” said Zilyah, looking startled. “You are a zero percenter, yes?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “And you’re telling me that you have a narrator you’re able to witness?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  Zilyah stared at Anja intently. “Show me,” she said. “Show me what you’re doing when this happens.”

  After Anja explained that she could only meditate at high elevations, Zilyah proposed we return to Cone Peak. We morphed into western screech owls, at her suggestion, and headed for the top of the mountain. She guided us to a south-facing perch about a hundred yards from the chanting circle, so that Anja would not be disturbed by the echoes of “Eyah, ohyah, ooooyah!”

  Upon landing, we returned to our default forms and Anja selected a spot to sit. Zilyah and I remained standing a few feet away from her. She held out her palms in front of her and gazed at the Pacific.

  “It feels a bit funny to have you two staring at me,” she said.

  “Unfortunately, we have to be able to see what you’re doing,” replied Zilyah. “Try to forget about our presence.”

  “Okay, hang on a sec. I’ll deal with it.” She launched her breath simulator and crossed her legs. “Do you want me to tell you when I first notice my witness?”

  “No, just do whatever you normally do,” said Zilyah. “There’s no need to talk to us or describe anything that’s happening.”

  “Okay, got it.”

  “Good luck,” I said.

  Anja smiled briefly, then closed her eyes and settled into position. After a couple of minutes, we noticed her body becoming very still. From thereon, she seemed almost like a statue.

  Zilyah studied her carefully. Then, upon being sufficiently convinced, she softly touched my shoulder and nodded. “Anja’s doing it,” she whispered. It was obvious by the surprise on her face that she had not expected this outcome.

  Out of courtesy, we continued to wait for Anja to complete her session, even though Zilyah did not need to watch her any longer. For another half hour, Anja remained in meditation. It was the shriek of a hawk that finally caused her eyes to open.

  “Hello,” she said, smiling. “How did I do?”

  “Superbly,” replied Zilyah. “You were absolutely right. Please forgive me for doubting you.”

  “That’s okay, but how could you tell I contacted my witness?”

  “By the movement in your eyelids,” she explained. “There’s no doubt.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” said Anja. “I did feel I went quite deep.”

  “Yes, I saw. I must confess, though, it’s most mystifying. You’re the only zero percenter who’s ever been able to achieve such a thing.”

  “You’re sure I’m the only one?”

  “Oh, yes, quite sure,” said Zilyah. “Not to boast, but in matters such as these, I do stay in touch with a great many people.”

  “I believe I may have a theory for why Anja’s able to do it,” I offered.

  “Oh? Do tell.”

  “I was the one who performed her replacement surgery,” I explained. “I ran into a problem when the algorithm tried to digitize her heart.”

  “A problem?”

  “You never told me that,” said Anja.

  “I’m only now realizing it could have significance,” I said. “Please don’t be mad, Anja. It was because your blood became contaminated when you were shot with the cyanide bullet.”

  “My goodness,” said Zilyah.

  “Tell us exactly what happened,” said Anja.

  “The surgery went smoothly for each of your organs until the replacement sequence came to your heart,” I replied. “That was when the algorithm got hung up with a mismatch error. I had to use a sample of your blood that spilled on the floor, as it was less tainted. Even then, the only way I could resume the operation was to do a manual override. There was a short delay, but the algorithm finally completed its task and everything checked out fine. That’s why I never mentioned it before.”

  “A delay?” asked Anja. “How long of a delay?”

  “Four point two three seconds.”

  “Does that mean something?” asked Zilyah.

  Anja and I both realized the answer at that moment, but I let her give the reply. “The algorithm must have performed an update,” she said.

  “Anja was the last person to become a zero percenter,” I added, “so she’s the only one who would have benefited from it.”

  “Aha,” said Zilyah, “and that’s why the rest of us have no built-in narrator.”

  “Yes, at least that’s a theory,” I replied. “I’m only speculating, but it would seem that in its earlier version, the algorithm did not entirely digitize human consciousness. Maybe it couldn’t figure out how to do so, or maybe it made the determination that full consciousness was not necessary for digital life. Either way, for everyone except Anja, it seems to have treated the witness component similarly to the respiratory and digestive systems—that is, it relegated it to vestigial status.”

  “That certainly sounds plausible,” said Anja. “But if so, the big question is what exactly triggered the algorithm to perform the update after you did the override.”

  “If I had to guess,” I said, “I would say it had something to do with your heart, since that’s where the replication effort got hung up.”

  “I hardly see what the heart has to do with consciousness,” replied Anja.

  “Oh, my dear,” interjected Zilyah, “the heart has everything to do with consciousness. And contrary to popular belief, the head has little to do with it. Try to imagine witnessing without your heart. You can’t do it, it’s not possible. Your head is not where y
our identity resides—your heart is. That’s why your heart knows when you’re in love.”

  “Hmm,” said Anja. “That would explain why other zero percenters have limitations in their consciousness. The algorithm didn’t fully replicate their hearts.”

  “Exactly,” I agreed. “Whereas when you digitized, you were in an extremely heightened state only seconds away from death. Your heart was probably wide open—especially after all the meditating you’d been doing and everything you’d been through with Gunnar. So when I initiated the override, the algorithm must have learned something new from you. Whatever the heart has to do with witnessing, the algorithm detected it this time and corrected the error of relegating it to vestigial status.”

  “Mahalo,” said Zilyah. “That’s brilliant analysis, Vicia. And you called me a genius.”

  “She does have a knack for these things,” agreed Anja.

  “You’re both very kind. But again, it’s only a theory.”

  “I trust there’s a way to get a definitive answer, yes?” said Zilyah.

  “Oh, yes,” said Anja. “There’s a way.”

  Thirty-Three

  November 30, 2024

  AI Laboratory, 5s2, Menlo Park, California

  Even though Diego was only twelve years old, he knew a little about his prior life as senior vice president of Software Engineering at 5s2. When he overheard Anja explaining to Alfonso and Rachel that we were going to visit the old campus, he begged to join us. Of course, Anja welcomed him.

  She invited Alfonso and Rachel to accompany us, but they respectfully declined, as they felt drawn to continue their chanting at Limekiln. Zilyah then offered to be Diego’s chaperone—and their concierges agreed to tag behind separately.

  Early the next morning, the four of us headed for Menlo Park. Diego requested we each select the Apollo Lunar Module app as our method of transport. While I missed the feeling of flying like a bird, I had to admit it was exciting to soar above the California coast in the form of such a legendary spaceship.