by Dima Zales
“That’s because you’re wearing an actual space suit.” Phoe’s voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere inside my helmet. “My guess is, a while back, the Elderly repurposed the spacesuits that came with the Ship. It makes sense. Unlike most other clothes in Oasis, these suits were manufactured on Earth and not via nano assembly, so no one ‘malicious,’ like you or I, can recreate one with a gesture. I guess they also figured it would be helpful for the police force to have a distinctive look, not to mention the many helpful functions of the suit.” Her grin widens. “These suits take care of the wearer’s bodily functions and needs so a Guard can focus on—”
“Yuck.” I wrinkle my nose. “You’re telling me the Guard used this suit as a bathroom?”
She looks thoughtful for a moment, then says, “I just examined the suit’s sensors. It’s as close to a sterile environment as it gets. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Okay,” I say, trying hard not to think about the suit as a toilet. “What now?”
“Walk toward the Adult section.” Phoe points in the direction of the pine forest. “Though my door-jamming trick worked, we don’t know how much time we have. If the Envoy is somehow keeping an eye on the Prison—”
“Didn’t you say I have to be the last person to take the Elderly Test? Isn’t that the only way to make sure no one notices its absence for a year?” I ask as I walk toward the forest. “It’s not evening yet.”
“This is why we’re taking our time getting there.” Phoe walks next to me with a cheerful spring in her step. “I was thinking we could wait in the forest by the Barrier on the Adult side of Oasis until sunset.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” I glance at her. “Even in this disguise, if we come across another Guard, they might ask me something, and I’d be screwed.”
“True,” Phoe says. “Which is why we should do our best not to run into any Guards. Fortunately, your nifty new suit has all sorts of sensors that can help us.” She makes a gesture, and I suddenly see the world in blue and red colors.
“That’s heat vision,” Phoe explains and returns my vision to normal. “In that mode, you can see people behind trees, long before they get the chance to see you.”
“Cool,” I think. “That should help.”
“Yep, it should, and there’s another thing I want to do,” Phoe says. “Something that will allow me to keep you safe, but I’m afraid you won’t like it.”
“My list of dislikes is growing, that’s for sure. What is it this time? I know you’ll tell me anyway. You just want me to want you to tell me.”
“Just keep an open mind, please,” she says with a slight pout.
“Fine, I will. Come out with it already.”
“Okay.” Phoe stops and looks at me. “I want to ride your body.”
12
My cheeks and the tips of my ears get uncomfortably warm. I’ve seen enough ancient movies to understand that expression. Riding someone means—
“Great, now that your hormones are normalizing, you’re turning into a horndog.” Phoe puts her hands on her hips. “Whether I want intimacy has nothing to do with what I’m talking about. You’re thinking of the innuendo, but I’m speaking more literally. I want to ride your body the way I rode Jeremiah the other day, when I had him untie you.”
“You mean when he was moving like a puppet?” I subvocalize. My blush disappears as blood leaves my face. Instinctively, I increase my pace, as if trying to run away from Phoe.
“Perhaps that wasn’t the best reminder,” she says, hurrying to catch up with me. “Jeremiah was moving erratically because I hadn’t mastered the interface between the nanos and the neurons in the motor cortex, which made that episode a little unnerving. I have since been looking into perfecting that interface, as well as involving more brain regions, such as the cerebellum, parts of the frontal lobe, and the basal ganglia. I believe I can take over walking and running for you, and do it so smoothly it will be indistinguishable from your own behavior.”
I stop walking and consider this. Somehow the idea that I wouldn’t be moving in jerky motions makes me feel a bit better about this proposition.
“But why?” I think to myself and to Phoe. “Why do you want to control my body like that?”
“When we get to the Testing facility, once you initiate the Test like every other VR session, your consciousness will not be present in your body. Given the tight security and the Envoy situation, I don’t want you standing there like a statue.”
“Hmm,” I think and resume walking. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. When you put it like that, it sounds like a good idea.”
“Yeah, and I promise it won’t feel unpleasant, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she says and also starts walking.
“If my mind is busy with VR, I won’t feel anything anyway,” I think.
“True, but I want to test it out while you’re present in your mind. You see, this isn’t just for VR. There are other interesting possibilities. For example, say I see you’re in danger. Right now, I’d have to tell you, which takes time. If I mastered this skill, and you gave me permission, I could move your body away from the danger on my own, which might save your life, but I need to make sure you’re okay with me doing this when you’re still conscious of it.”
I walk silently for a few minutes, considering her proposal. At the core, my reservations about this idea are irrational. I fear Phoe taking away my control, but that’s silly. If she wanted to do that, she would have. Instead, she’s asking for permission.
“Fear of technology is so ingrained in you that I can’t blame you for being wary.” Phoe’s tone is almost tender.
“Let’s try it,” I subvocalize firmly, mostly out of a sense of rebellion. I always want to do the opposite of what the Adults are trying to brainwash me to do.
“Okay,” Phoe thinks. “Ready?”
“Do it,” I think.
I keep walking.
Nothing happens for at least twenty steps.
“So?” Phoe says. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“What are you talking about? You didn’t do anything.” I examine my legs and arms and find that they’re completely under my control.
“I took control,” Phoe says. “First with every other step, and then all the steps between the eighth and the fifteenth.”
“You were walking for me some of the time? But I didn’t feel it.”
“Your brain must be trying to sustain the illusion of free will,” Phoe says thoughtfully. “I’ve read about that. It’s a form of confabulation.”
“Or it didn’t work,” I think, more to myself.
I stop.
“Why did you stop?” Phoe asks, her voice taunting, almost challenging.
I think back.
It was just one of those spur of the moment decisions. I wanted to stop, at least that’s how it felt.
“Except I made you stop.” Phoe holds her hand out to stop my objections and says, “How about this?”
My gloved hand smacks the visor of my helmet.
It’s a strange sensation, like maybe I wanted to do that, yet I’m beginning to doubt myself.
Then I notice I’m hopping on one foot.
“Okay, Phoe, I believe you. Please stop humiliating me,” I say, picturing what I would think if I ever saw a Guard hopping like this. Once my feet are planted firmly on the ground, I add, “This isn’t what I expected at all. If anything, it’s less scary than what I feared. I thought it would be like the Lens of Truth, like I’d be a spectator trapped outside my body.”
“I just read some literature on the subject, and I’m not that surprised by your reaction anymore. Willful control over muscles is a very strange thing for human beings. Studies have proven that certain actions and behaviors begin before people consciously realize they’re doing them. That is, muscle activity starts before individuals press the button indicating they feel like moving that muscle. Many actions happen on autopilot, like yanking a hand away from a
hot object. I suspect that when I do something minor, like taking over your walk, your consciousness assumes you’re still in control. When it’s something you have no reason to do, then we get into interesting territory. Oh, and by the way, did you notice that as I was speaking, I was walking for you?”
I stop and think about whether I was consciously controlling my legs. It’s hard to say. Walking can be done quite mindlessly at times.
“All right, Phoe. If you wanted to make me feel comfortable with this process, you’re on the right track. What do you want to try next?”
“We should test this closer to the actual scenario I’m worried about, with your mind in VR and me controlling you,” Phoe says. “Why don’t you go into your man cave while I keep walking for you?”
Without hesitation, I make the requisite gesture, and the white tunnel takes me to my man cave.
Phoe is already standing there, between an old cannon and something that looks like a guillotine. She extends her palm and initiates a hologram-like image that shows me walking toward the forest in the real world.
“Your gait looks good,” she says, looking at the video feed.
She’s right. I look like a Guard who’s casually walking toward the forest. The movements aren’t jerky or too slow. The steps my body is taking under Phoe’s control are indistinguishable from my own.
“You know, it’s really odd that you’re here talking to me while you’re controlling my legs,” I tell Phoe.
“I don’t see why. I’m also monitoring Fiona and Jeremiah’s interviews, reading a bunch of books, researching whatever I can about the Test, getting the details of the egg hunt they’re having in the forest to make sure we don’t bump into anyone, and—”
“I get it,” I say, doing my best not to sound envious. “You can multitask.”
“I don’t actually have to multitask in the ‘doing many things at the same time’ sense. Given that I think much faster than human beings, I simply perform each task linearly. For example, I can finish a book in a fraction of a millisecond, then check in on the interviews, and all before your meat brain fires a single synapse. Of course, I also do multitask. There are multiple versions of me—”
“I don’t understand,” I say. “Are you actually here with me or not?” I walk over and touch her shoulder. Here, in the VR environment she’s created for me, I’m dressed in my Birth Day outfit of jeans and a t-shirt, not the Guard suit, and my bare hand feels her shoulder with no obstacles. She feels completely real—soft and warm to the touch.
“Of course I’m here,” Phoe says. “And before you insult me by asking, I can feel you touching my shoulder.”
“Phoe, I—”
“It’s okay, Theo,” she says, her blue eyes piercing mine. “You have the right to understand this. When I take this shape”—she runs the tips of her fingers down her body—“the thread of me you’re communicating with is not merely pretending to have this body. This part of me actually has a body or as close to that as possible in the given medium. In VR, this body you see is an emulation of a human one. Emulation is a process where I replicate something with as much detail as I can. In this form, I have neurons, dendrites, blood, a heart, nerves, hormones, as well as gut bacteria. If it’s possible to capture the totality of the human experience in a virtual way—and I believe that it is possible—then I have done so. So you see, at a minimum, this allows me to feel everything a human being can feel. It allows me to be here with you, both in terms of sensations and emotions.”
I open my mouth to ask more questions, but she doesn’t give me a chance. “And yes,” she says, “I’m capable of more than just physical sensations. My emotions run much deeper and are more nuanced than a human being’s because I’m not limited to just this body—no matter how complex my emulated brain is. My capacity for compassion is higher, and my understanding of the world is richer.” She gives me a level look. “A question you need to ask yourself is: Are you capable of human emotions? I know you felt my shoulder with the tips of your fingers, and I know your oxytocin levels went up minutely when you touched me, but did it make you feel happy, the way a human being should feel when touching a friend? Or was your capacity to feel such things destroyed by years of Quietudes and the brain-tampering of the Oasis society?”
I stare at her uncomprehendingly. She doesn’t blink. She truly thinks she’s more human than I am—she, an AI.
“I am, though,” she says. “But you’ll get there. You’re on your way to being fully human too.”
And before I can reply, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses me.
13
Our kiss is almost angry in its intensity. The warmth of her body presses against me, and I get the urge to pull her closer, to touch her and get rid of the clothes between us.
Before I can do so, she gently pushes me away and says, “Hold your horses, Theo. I don’t think you know what you’re feeling or fully understand what you want. Until you do, we should take the physical part of our whatever-this-is slowly.”
I’m a muddy roller coaster of needs and emotions, with Phoe at the epicenter. Her words sound far away, their meaning fuzzy, but she’s right. I don’t know much about whatever it is I want from her.
“Look,” she says, turning my attention to the hologram of me walking.
I look, even though I know she’s just changing the topic.
The real-world me is in the forest. He/I/we are walking briskly.
“‘We’ is a fitting pronoun,” Phoe says, once again composed. “Since it’s your body we’re looking at, yet it’s me controlling it. I’ll get it to the Barrier for you, okay?”
“Fine. What do we do in the meantime?” I ask, the image of more kissing flitting through my mind.
Phoe chuckles slyly and says, “For starters, you can accept your Birth Day present.” She turns to walk deeper into the cave.
I follow her. “My present?” I ask.
“Oh, right.” She glances over her shoulder. “I keep forgetting that Birth Day is but a shallow echo of ancients’ birthdays. You see, unlike Oasis, where thanks to artificial wombs and Incubators, everyone is born on the same day, the ancients were born at random times. So they felt special and wanted gifts to commemorate—”
“I’m well aware of the idea of a birthday gift,” I say as we stop next to a table with two chairs. “I just got caught off guard.”
Phoe grins at me. “Okay. Well, I prepared this for you.”
The table is covered with every ancient food and drink I’ve ever tasted on Birth Day. There are several flavors of soda and popcorn and a dozen other goodies. A big bowl of fried dough sits as the centerpiece of the table.
“I had to stick to things you’d tasted before, or else I would’ve had to make up the textures and flavors, which I could do, if you wanted.”
Instead of responding, I grab a piece of fried dough and pop it in my mouth. Phoe follows my lead. The taste is identical to the way I remember it, and I simply let myself enjoy it.
Once I’m done chewing, I say, “Thank you. This is awesome.”
“You can eat as many as you want without getting sick.” She winks at me. “I’m not emulating your digestive track, so you’re eating virtual ether.”
“So”—I take a piece of popcorn from a paper bag—“if your body is such a good emulation of a human one, can you get fat from eating too much fried dough?”
“Theo, Theo,” she says and follows it with a tsk-tsk sound. “It’s not gentlemanly to ask a lady about her age, and even less so to allude to her weight.”
“It’s not?” I grab a piece of fried dough and lick the powdered sugar off it.
“It was an ancient tradition,” Phoe says and demonstratively stuffs a bunch of fried dough into her mouth. She must have swallowed it without chewing, because she soon continues. “But I was actually teasing you. If you think my butt is fat, please tell me, because I can make it smaller. Just because I try to emulate everything accurately doesn’t mean I can’t take some libe
rties when I feel like it.”
I take a noisy gulp of soda, then say, “You can look any way you wish?”
Phoe nods. “Yes, and more importantly, I can look any way you wish.” And before my stunned gaze, her eyes switch from their usual blue to green and then back again. At the same time, her blond pixie hair turns pink, then returns to blond. “I created this face by studying your pupil dilation and other cues when you watched ancient movies and gawked at the models in those magazines. I tried to look like the perfect woman for you, but if you wanted, I could look different, say like your friend Grace”—there’s a dark undertone to her voice as she says this—“or like anyone else.”
“I like you like this,” I say, putting the large soda back on the table. “Please don’t change, and please refrain from manipulating me in such a crude fashion in the future. I can’t believe you made yourself look like the girls I stared at. That’s just unfair.”
“That’s why I came clean.” Phoe reaches for the cup I was holding, her fingers momentarily touching mine. “I realized it was manipulative, and I felt guilty about it. In my defense, I had to make myself look like something, so why not look pleasing to you?” She bats her eyelashes at me. “Do you forgive me?”
I watch those long lashes flutter and wonder if she borrowed that action from some movie after seeing how it affected me. Even with that suspicion in mind, I find I can’t be mad at her for longer than a few seconds.
“Good.” Phoe grins, then takes two bags of popcorn, hands one to me, and says, “Let’s watch some movies while we wait for your body to reach its destination.”
She walks to a far crevice of the cave, and I follow. When we arrive, I see that Phoe has managed to create a full-fledged ancient movie theater. We sit down with our popcorn—ancient moviegoer style—and watch a couple of films.
By the third movie, I figure out Phoe’s agenda. She’s showing me romantic comedies to teach me human courting behavior and vernacular. I don’t mind, though. It’s actually interesting. Ancients had a very strange relationship with sexual intimacy. They clearly loved to have sex, but had a harder time talking about it, almost as though they followed some of Oasis’s taboos. Many of them went as far as to use baseball as a metaphor for sex instead of talking directly about it. Using this euphemism, Phoe and I went to ‘first base.’ I have to hand it to the ancients for their creativity. Thinking of what we did as ‘first base’ doesn’t make me nearly as uncomfortable as thinking of it as ‘kissing.’