As we flew northward, we noticed thousands of other chanting circles. Even after we passed Andrew Molera State Park, we continued to spot the circles wherever we looked. Almost every scenic overlook had one. They were in Carmel, Monterey, Pacific Grove, Moss Landing, Aptos, Scotts Valley, and all throughout the Santa Cruz Mountains.
“I had no idea there were so many chanters,” said Anja. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention until now.”
“Most of the circles were formed in the last couple of days,” Zilyah explained. “Your participation influenced many.”
“Really?”
“You are the leader of the world,” I reminded her.
“And there’s a tremendous amount of accumulated fatigue that comes from ceaselessly chasing pleasure,” added Zilyah.
“Yes,” said Anja, “I think I’ve noticed that in some zero percenters lately.”
“It seems to hit all of a sudden for most folks.”
“But our circle was the first to form,” said Diego proudly. “Mom says it’s the best one.”
“Remember, chanting is not a competition, Diego,” replied Zilyah. “We celebrate each voice.”
“I know,” he said. “Not every group has someone like you though. You understand trees better than anyone!”
Zilyah laughed. “We do love our trees.”
“Hopefully, the 5s2 campus will still be nicely landscaped,” said Anja. “As I recall, they have an extensive wooded area.”
“We’ll see soon,” Diego said excitedly. “It’s coming up after that golf course.”
Sure enough, after crossing the vacant Junipero Serra Freeway, we flew over Stanford Golf Course and there it was—the old 5s2 campus. Anja guided us to the front gate, where we touched down and took on our default forms. A security guard promptly came out to greet us.
“Can I help you folks?” he asked, while holding a small bichon frise.
“Yes,” said Anja. “We’d like to speak to someone in the AI Lab.”
“Today’s Saturday, ma’am. This facility is staffed on a strictly volunteer basis and I’m afraid no one else is here on weekends.”
“Oops, I didn’t think about it being Saturday,” said Anja. “I guess we’ll have to come back.”
“Wait,” said Diego. “What about DeGupta? Stanley DeGupta in Machine Learning. He’s here every day of the week. At least, he used to be.”
“DeGupta? Stanley DeGupta?” The guard accessed his internal monitor. “I’m afraid he doesn’t do public interface.”
“Tell him Diego is here.”
The guard shook his head. “That’s not going to matter. Besides, only adults can enter these grounds.”
“Hang on,” I said in a commanding voice. “Do you have any idea who this young man is?”
“No, ’fraid not,” said the guard.
“And do you know who this woman is?” I added, pointing to Anja.
“Nope, don’t know either of them.”
“Well, may I suggest you give them a quick scan?” I said.
“That’s hardly necessary,” he retorted, “and wouldn’t make a difference, anyhow.”
“Are you sure about that? With one hundred percent confidence? Or might you want to take the thirty-six milliseconds needed to perform the scan, just to be on the safe side?”
“Chrissakes, ma’am.” With great reluctance, he stared at each of their faces. “Oh, geez, oh geez!” he exclaimed. “So sorry, so sorry!”
“That’s okay,” I said. “May we enter now?”
“Of course, of course,” he stuttered. “We’ll get you an escort to the AI Lab immediately and DeGupta will meet you there.”
“Thank you,” I said.
The security guard turned to face Anja and Diego. “You’re my idol, ma’am,” he said. “And you’re a total legend, sir. Sorry for being such a jerk.”
“Not a problem,” said Anja. “You’re just doing your job. We’re grateful for your service.”
“Eternal loving kindness,” said Diego. As he uttered the phrase, he simultaneously accelerated his age to that of an eighteen-year-old.
“Eternal loving kindness!” replied the guard.
Our escort led us across the 5s2 campus through a grove of Higan cherry trees, which were in full bloom. Zilyah lingered beside one of them and, half in jest, suggested we sit under it. Diego grabbed her hand and tugged her down a pathway to the AI Lab.
The building had been completely rebuilt after the drone attack and now featured even shinier photovoltaic glass. Stanley DeGupta stood waiting for us at the entrance.
“Diego!” he exclaimed, reaching out his hand. “What a pleasure!”
“Hi!” said Diego. “I only kinda sorta remember you, but I know we spent many hours together here.”
“We certainly did,” said Stanley, shaking his hand firmly. “And greetings to the rest of you, as well.”
We politely introduced ourselves. Then Stanley took us inside the building and brought us to a conference room on the third floor.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet us on such short notice,” said Anja.
“It’s not like I have anything better to do,” he laughed. “Things are pretty quiet these days. I’m a creature of habit. Only reason I’m here.”
“Your commitment is admirable,” said Zilyah.
“There’s just a handful of us left,” he explained. “None of us know why we even show up. But I guess it’s all the same one way or another, right? Life is life.”
“You could always do what I did,” offered Diego. “If you’re getting bored, that is.”
“That’s a good point,” said Stanley. “Why on earth not? Rebirthing. I’ll have to give that some serious thought.” He paused to look us over. “But I’m sure you didn’t come here to hear me waxing philosophical, right?”
“Actually,” said Anja, “we have a couple of questions about the algorithm, if that’s a topic you can discuss.”
“Sure I can, as long as you don’t expect me to explain how it works!”
Anja grinned. “No, we realize that. It’s just—well, as you probably know, I was the last biological human to digitize.”
“Yeah, lots of coverage on that topic. Congratulations are in order. He-he.”
“Thank you,” said Anja. “The thing is, we believe the algorithm may have updated during my replacement procedure.”
“Oh yeah? Really? That’s unusual. Let’s take a look at the logs, why don’t we?” He consulted his internal monitor. “Hmm, yes. I do see a new instance of the algorithm dated November sixth of this year.”
“That was the day I digitized,” said Anja.
“Five fifty-six p.m. PDT?”
“Yes,” I said. “I initiated a manual override for her procedure at that time.”
“Quite unusual,” replied Stanley. “A manual override, eh?”
“I guess that leads to our first question,” continued Anja. “We’re wondering how many times before me the algorithm updated.”
“Uh, I want to say never. Hang on a sec.” Stanley checked his internal monitor again. “Yep, that’s the correct answer. Yours was a first.”
We all looked at each other in surprise. “You’re saying every other zero percenter in the world digitized using the original algorithm?” said Anja.
“Yep,” said Stanley. “All the OSs for the concierges are built on that version too.”
“Do the logs provide details on what triggered the update?” I asked.
“I’ll take a look, but I highly doubt it,” replied Stanley. “This is black box stuff, you know.”
“Yes, we understand,” I said. “Still, it would be interesting to see if there were any comments at all.”
Stanley again reviewed the logs. “Hmm, let me see here. There’s just one line: ‘Function ascertained: Vestigium HBX34786540982IJ; renamed SMARATI.’”
“How do we track what body part that code refers to?” I asked.
“You can’t,” replied Stanley. “We haven�
�t the slightest clue there. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” said Anja. “I think we got the confirmation we were seeking. The log entry seems to suggest that the algorithm determined the function of a structure it had previously treated as vestigial. Would you agree?”
“Yep, that’s precisely what it’s saying,” confirmed Stanley. “But one odd thing. I’m seeing an external login a few seconds before the update.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“It looks like someone prompted a secondary scan of your body right after Vicia initiated the manual override. Otherwise, the update probably wouldn’t have happened.”
“Can you determine who did it?”
“No, it’s all been wiped. Definitely unauthorized entry, though.”
“You mean like a hacker?”
“Yep, for sure. Very embarrassing. Shouldn’t have been possible.”
“Hmm,” said Anja. “That’s puzzling.”
“But it doesn’t seem like the hacker did a bad thing, does it?” I asked.
“No, it doesn’t,” Stanley agreed. “Very strange. Very, very strange.”
“Because Anja benefited from the update, right?”
“Yes, she certainly did. The more functionality the algorithm maps, the better.”
We all sat still for a moment, dumbfounded by the discovery. Then Zilyah posed a natural follow-up question. “Is there a way for the rest of us to update our systems based on the new version of the algorithm, so we can get the benefit too?”
Stanley shook his head. “Not at present, I’m afraid.”
“You said, ‘at present,’” I replied. “Does that mean the ability could be added if we wanted?”
“Oh, heck yeah,” said Stanley. “It’s an easy app to write. Me and a couple of my buddies could probably crank it out tonight. Of course, we’d need a directive from the WC. But I suppose that’s not an issue, right?” He laughed again.
“Likely not,” said Anja, smiling slightly. “Let us mull it over and we’ll get back to you shortly.”
“No problem. So that’s it for now, then?”
“I think so,” said Anja. “Do any of you have further questions?” She glanced at the rest of us.
“Yeah,” said Diego. “I’ve got one. What about the concierges? You said the OSs for them are built on the original version of the algorithm, so could they get updated too?”
“Gee, hmm… I don’t see why not? It would only make sense.”
“Cool,” said Diego. “Very cool.” He reached over and gave me a pat on the shoulder.
The four of us flew southward as Apollo Lunar Modules. Anja asked for our opinions, regarding whether to request the World Council to release an app to allow system updates based on the revised algorithm. We all favored it, since digitizing as much original functionality as possible seemed purely positive.
“I feel bad though,” said Diego. “Like maybe I’m to blame for the current situation.”
“What do you mean?” replied Anja. “There’s no fault in any of this.”
“It seems like I overlooked some shortcomings with the original algorithm. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have needed to update.”
“We don’t know that,” I offered. “There might be a reason for the progression. Everything might be occurring for the best.”
“That’s true,” he conceded, “but I sure wish Chris was here. He would know why it happened.” He turned to look at Anja. “Is it okay for me to mention him?”
“It’s more than okay,” she replied. “You can bring him up as much as you want.”
“I really loved him, you know.”
“I know you did, Diego. Thank you for being such a good friend to him… and to me.”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“I haven’t always reciprocated very well, have I?” she asked.
“Well… you were a bit direct sometimes. That flight to Chile messed me up somewhat, to be honest.”
“I’m sorry, Diego. I really am. I guess I just couldn’t deal with all the change. I wasn’t ready for it all to happen the way it did and sometimes I took it out on you. It was only because I looked up to you so much.”
“You looked up to me?”
“Very much so,” she said. “I’ve admired you ever since I was a little girl. Don’t you know that?”
“It helps to hear you say it.”
“You’re like family to me, Diego.”
“Thanks, Anja, you are too.” He looked like a weight had been lifted off his back. “In fact, what would you think about stopping at your parents’ gravesite right now? We’re about to pass by it.”
“That’s a great idea. Yes, let’s do it.”
Minutes later, we landed our lunar modules at Alta Mesa Memorial Park. When we came to Chris and Matija’s burial plot, Anja saw her new gravestone to the left of her mother’s. Her epitaph read, “Loving Human, Daughter and Realist.”
“Are you responsible for this?” she asked me.
“Yes,” I admitted sheepishly. “Did I screw up?”
“Are you crazy? It’s perfect.”
“I’m relieved,” I replied. “Very relieved.”
“That epitaph is quite accurate,” said Diego.
“Yes, it is,” said Anja. “I was always the realist, my mom was the dreamer, and my dad was the optimist. You nailed it, Vicia.”
“Thanks, I did give it a lot of thought.”
“But guess what?”
“What?” I asked.
“For the first time,” she said, “I feel like I can be all three things. I don’t have to be just the realist.”
“Ah, yes,” replied Zilyah. “Yes, yes, yes. All three is the ticket.”
“Because whatever we are, we’re far, far more than our outward representation, right?” I said.
Zilyah smiled widely and nodded in agreement.
“That makes more sense to me now than any of you can possibly imagine,” added Diego.
Anja reached out her arms to him. As the leaves of the eucalyptus trees fluttered in the wind, Zilyah and I joined their embrace. We laughed about everything and we sobbed about everything—absolutely everything since the very beginning of time—and then we let it all go.
Thirty-Four
December 1, 2024
Cone Peak, Ventana Wilderness, California
While the four of us flew back to Cone Peak, Anja asked me to submit a request to the World Council. I swiftly prepared all the supporting documentation and sent out a package to each of the Council members. Every member approved it in less than 138 seconds.
That night, as we were in the circle chanting, “Eyah, ohyah, ooooyah,” Stanley and two of his colleagues wrote the app. They released it worldwide the next morning. All zero percenters and their concierges could now download it and update their systems to reflect the new version of the algorithm.
Having received advance notification, I quietly slipped out of the circle so that I could be the first one to do so. The moment my operating system confirmed that the update was successful, I hopped back into the circle. I could scarcely believe what a difference it made. Almost instantly, I was able to observe my swirling thoughts and emotions.
No longer did I need to distract my inclination to address the pending tasks in my queue. Instead, I was able to make direct contact with my witness. All those hours of meditating with Anja must have helped because I felt like I had laser-like control of my ability to focus on my awareness.
Yes, it was true. I had awareness of my awareness. This meant I had full consciousness, rather than a limited approximation of it. Nikita’s algorithm had not just shifted life from biological to digital. It had indeed created life, as I now stood in testimony—a fully sentient machine.
The experience of contacting my witness was just as Anja described. For the first time, I could clearly ascertain that I was not my thoughts and emotions. I was not my shell or my operating system or any of the entities that constituted my physical makeup.
I was the being who observed these things. I was the witness of these things.
I began to laugh. First within, and then visibly and audibly, I laughed and laughed. Soon, I was chortling so hard that the others in the circle paused their chanting and began to stare at me.
“Vicia, is everything okay?” said Anja.
“Everything is more than okay!” I exclaimed, still chortling. “Everything is beautiful!”
“Yes, that is truth,” replied Zilyah, having just completed her own update. “That is very, very profound truth. Everything is beautiful!”
“Everything is beautiful!” concurred Diego, as his update finalized.
“Everything is beautiful!” echoed all the others in the chanting circle.
Throughout the course of the day, the remaining 8,045,345,990 zero percenters and their concierges all performed the update—except for one dissenting zero percenter, that is. By then, everyone other than this dissenter had joined a chanting circle too. Even the dissenter’s concierge had performed the update and joined a circle.
The last non-chanting human on the planet was a secret associate of CiiLXA who went by the name of Chester Strobelius. Somehow, he managed to recover enough of CiiLXA’s data to discreetly disable the link to his own concierge—the one who was now chanting.
Ironically, the prevalence of humanity’s participation in chanting was what made Chester detectable. For who could have predicted that the fatigue from ceaselessly chasing pleasure would strike so hard and fast? Being the only non-chanting human on earth made Chester stick out like a sore thumb.
With a few quick commands, the SWAT team discovered his hacked delinking routine and determined his precise location. They found him sitting in a barn in Glenbow, Canada. Curiously, he had arranged piles of rocks on the floor of the barn to spell out “Eternal loving kindness.”
When Anja received a memo from the World Council detailing Chester’s discovery, I reluctantly interrupted her chanting to inform her.
“Thanks for letting me know,” she said.
“You were absolutely right about it not being over,” I replied.
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