Then Again

by Rick Boling

  I watched my first national release climb the charts, while I worked on the album. And I called Robin’s lawyer to let him know where I was, in case she had a change of heart. The song peaked at number nineteen on Billboard’s Top 100, and I remained hopeful. But after my second album came out three years later, I finally accepted the fact that she was never going to contact me. It probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because by then I was deep into heroin again, unrepentant and cynical and dealing with anger issues that would plague me for the rest of my life.

  The pain lingered, though, hanging like a shadow over my personal life; a cautionary tale that drew an impenetrable curtain around my heart and kept me at arm’s length from any future emotional involvement with a woman. That curtain remained closed for more than thirty years, until it was finally ripped away by the only woman I’d ever loved more than Robin. And even that turned out to be nothing more than a cruel joke; a twist of fate destined to break my heart for a second time.

  It seemed ironic that Heyoka, the man who hoped to be my savior, would also serve as my executioner. Not only would his experiment lead to my physical demise in this dimension, but the demise of my relationship with Aurélie as well, a loss for which even the prospect of a second chance at life could not adequately compensate.

  A Change Of Plans

  The memory of my time in Georgia and the years that followed ended abruptly when Aurélie knocked on the door and peeked in.

  “You’re awake,” she said.

  “Sort of,” I groaned. “Why? Did you think I died or something?”

  “Well, I was certainly hoping you hadn’t.” She pushed my feet over so she could sit on the bed. “I’ve been checking on you every so often to make sure. You’ve been out for ten hours.”

  “Guess I fell asleep. Maybe that’s why it seemed like years. That damned brain juice has turned me into a human time machine. I just had the most vivid flashback yet.”

  She lifted my arm and pressed two fingers against my wrist. “Mmmn,” she said. “Pulse feels like you’ve run a marathon. Was it that bad?”

  “Good and bad. Mostly bad. Things always start out good, but then they turn to shit. I seem to have a talent for turning good things into shit.”

  “You have many talents, Rix,” she said, brushing a wayward strand of hair from my forehead. “What you’re talking about are the ups and downs of life. We all go through them. If there were no downs, we wouldn’t be able to enjoy the ups. It’s like God needing the devil, because without him there wouldn’t be much use for a god.”

  “Very profound,” I said. “The problem with your theory is there’s supposed to be that balance you talked about. You know, the yin-yang thing? Except in my case the scale seems to be way out of kilter.”

  “Right, and that’s why you get another chance. So, are you reconsidering your third trip?”

  “I am. In fact, I don’t think I need it.”

  The memory had ended when I was thirty-four, the same year I had scheduled for my next trip back in time. By then my body would already be chemically addicted, not only to heroin, but to booze. And although I’d eventually managed to kick the heroin, I knew the alcohol addiction was something I probably couldn’t give up at that late date.

  “So, what made you change your mind?” she asked.

  “Lots of things. For one, I’d been worried about not being able to write without drugs, but my sharpened memory reminded me of something important.” I pulled her down until our lips were close, and, surprisingly, she let me kiss her.

  She seemed to have forgotten about her decision not to make love, stretching out beside me and pressing her body against mine. But before things got too hot and heavy, she pulled back. “Sorry about that,” she said, caressing my cheek. “I was worried about you and I forgot myself there for a minute.”

  “Yeah, well, what am I supposed to do with this?” I grabbed her hand and put it between my legs.

  “Let’s see,” she said, giving me a quick squeeze. “Maybe I could rustle up some potassium nitrate.”

  “You guys have a chemical solution for everything,” I said. “Okay, I give up, what would potassium nitrate do, make me fall out of love with you or something?”

  “Heaven forbid. No, it’s what you probably think of as saltpeter. And in the right dose, it can … uh, soften things up a bit, if you get my drift. The problem is, it also causes high blood pressure, anemia, kidney problems, and has a depressive effect on the heart. So not only would you not be able to get it up, chances are you wouldn't be able to get up, period. On second thought, the best thing would be a cold shower.”

  “I think the best thing would be for you to take off your clothes,” I said, reaching for her zipper.

  “If you only knew how much I want to,” she said, pushing my hand away. “But if anything happened to you before the transfer, I would never forgive myself. Now stop it and tell me about this memory. You said it reminded you of something?”

  I turned on my back and closed my eyes. “It reminded me what falling in love can do for creativity. Kind of like now, with you. I’m actually getting the urge to write again. I am in love with you, you know.”

  “Yes, I believe you’ve mentioned that a few hundred times. And I love you. Which is why I refuse to kill you. Now please stop brooding and tell me what changed your mind.”

  So I told her about the flashback. As the story unfolded, I could tell she was having a hard time maintaining her scientific objectivity. To say she was jealous of Robin might have been a stretch, but there was definitely more going on than simple curiosity.

  “You see?” she said when I finally wound down. “You’re only thinking about the bad part. About losing Robin. I understand how difficult that was for you, but the short time you had with her was probably the most creative period in your life. There was value in that, Rix. Tremendous value.”

  “Maybe so, but the thing is it seems to be a pattern with me. No matter how great things are, I always find a way to fuck them up. Or maybe it’s destiny, because it’s happening again with you, and this time I don’t think I’ve done anything to deserve it. Have I?”

  “No, you haven’t. It’s just an odd convergence of circumstances. There’s no one to blame. And believe me when I say this is no easier for me. I’m sorry if I seem so analytic about it sometimes, but I can’t help it. I try to see the facts and weigh the good against the bad. In this case, the potential good for you far outweighs the pain either of us has to endure. And it is painful for me too, Rix. More painful than you could possibly know.”

  “Jesus!” I said. “Why can’t things ever work out the way I want them to? It’s like I’m cursed or something. Here I am looking at an opportunity any normal person would cut off an arm for, yet in order to take advantage of it I have to lose the thing I want most. Isn’t there some way to fix this? Some way I—we—can have both?”

  “Not that I can see,” she said. “Our only priority right now is making sure the transfer is successful.”

  “So, what? Are you saying there might be a chance for us after that?”

  “I’m not saying anything of the kind. Sorry if I made it sound that way. I’ve told you before it’s impossible for me to inject myself into your new reality without committing murder, and there’s no way I’m going to do that.”

  “I understand. But you also said the project might continue after I’m sent back. So maybe you could figure out a way.”

  “I wasn’t talking about anything like that,” she said. “The next phase, if there is one, will probably concentrate on doing something similar in this dimension, though it wouldn’t involve mind transference, at least in the same way. Since we’d be restricted by the forward progression of this timeline, there would be no younger version of someone to transfer a mind into, so the objective would be preservation of consciousness for the future.”

  “Preservation? You mean Cryogenics?”

  “We’ve looked into cryogenics, and Heyoka doesn’
t think there’s any chance of it ever working like people expect it to. Even if we were able to freeze and revive a physical brain—which is highly unlikely—his calculations show the personality would not survive. What I’m talking about is holographic brain imaging.”

  “I’ve read some things about that,” I said. “The idea of making a digital copy of someone’s mind. I thought we were decades away from developing computers capable of duplicating the structure and capacity of the human brain.”

  “We—meaning the computer-science community in general—probably are. On the other hand, we—meaning our team of researchers, working under the guidance of possibly the most brilliant scientist in the world … Well, you’ve seen some of the things we can do. And those represent only the tip of a very large iceberg.”

  “Right. So this iceberg, it includes a quantum leap in computer technology?”

  “Of course it does. How do you think we’re able to do the computations necessary for all our experiments? The human brain is an incredible machine, but it would take thousands, maybe millions of brains to handle the complex problems we’ve been tackling. Human neurons exchange electrochemical signals at about 150 meters per second, whereas the speed at which data is exchanged in a computer—the speed of light—is about 300 million meters per second, something like two million times faster.”

  “Oh … kay.” I said. “So what have you done, built some kind of super computer?”

  “The supercomputers you’re probably thinking of are stone-age stuff to us. We’ve developed computational systems that use quibits—quantum bits— to represent data, instead of the ones and zeros digital computers use. This gives our computers incredible capacity, enough to emulate the biological nervous system, including the way neurons connect with each other, how those neurons react to stimuli, and how they learn to adapt. Our systems don’t just store and retrieve data, they learn and improve themselves without our intervention. In other words, they evolve, and they do so at an exponential rate. That evolution has already resulted in a power and capacity far greater than the capabilities of the human brain.”

  “Sounds encouraging,” I said. “But what do you plan to do with all that power? Conquer the world or something?”

  “If that were Heyoka’s goal, I’m sure he’d figure a way. But it’s not. We’re using it to advance our research into things like quantum teleportation, energy production, genetic engineering, and many other branches of technology. In the case of brain imaging, the objective would be to preserve the minds of extraordinary thinkers and talented artists, so we will never again lose another Einstein or da Vinci or Mozart.”

  “What about an Aurélie?” I said.

  “I’m not anywhere near important enough to waste time on,” she said. “You, on the other hand …”

  “Sorry, but I don’t get it. If you’re not important enough, I’m not even in the ballpark. So what would be the point?”

  “The point is we need a backup plan. Interdimensional transfer involves some unproven and rather nebulous techniques, and even though our calculations tell us the chances of failure are minuscule, we’re going to make a backup copy of your mind just in case.”

  “A backup copy of my mind,” I said. “You mean I’m going to exist in two places at once?”

  “I guess you could look at it that way, though the copy will be for storage only. It won’t be activated unless absolutely necessary.”

  “Uh, huh,” I said. “So instead of storing the brain, you store the information it contains. That sounds pretty cool, but let me ask you about something else. You’ve mentioned quantum teleportation a couple of times now, and I’m wondering if you’re talking about what they did in that old sci-fi movie, The Fly. You might remember it from the remake with Jeff Goldblum and Geena Davis. Anyway, the idea is they have these things called telepods, and they use them to send objects instantaneously from one pod to another, supposedly over any distance.”

  “That would be the ultimate goal,” she said. “But so far, we haven’t been able to send what you’re probably thinking of as objects. What we’re working on now is something similar, though not quite as magical sounding. It involves sending quantized digital information in the form of instructions for building copies of objects. Instead of sending the objects themselves, their molecular structure is mapped and instructions for building exact duplicates are sent to a receiving machine that recreates them. The technology is relatively new, and it may be decades before we can do this with complex living organisms. However, considering the exponential rate at which our computational systems are evolving, you never know.”

  You never know, I thought, wondering what those exponential possibilities might be. It felt like bits of data were trying to assemble themselves in my head, as if once everything fit together, my brain would start spitting out answers. Answers to what, I didn’t know, because I had no idea what questions to ask. Still, there seemed to be something important lurking in the shadows just beyond the limits of my understanding.

  Swan Song

  The brain imaging operation reminded me of an old Outer Limits episode: a platform that slid into a glass-enclosed coffin-like tube, then a lot of lasers and other sci-fi crap that struck me as a poor special-effects production. I had to stay awake during the process, but there was no pain or discomfort of any kind, and I emerged wondering if it hadn’t all been for show; something to reassure me that if the transfer failed, at least the essence of my personality would survive so future generations could wonder what the big deal was about preserving Rix Vaughn. After that, it was supposed to be all downhill towards the transfer, but there was one more unexpected revelation for me to deal with.

  The three of us were sitting beside a flickering fire in the Great Room as rain battered the tall windows. I’d brought my guitar and was experimenting with a new chord arrangement, while Heyoka went over some of the things I should be prepared for during the transfer procedure. I wasn’t paying much attention until I heard him mention something about the memory enhancements I’d been experiencing. When I tuned into the conversation, he was looking at me apologetically.

  “Unfortunately,” he said, “Those improvements were only applied to your physical brain as it exists today. Since the transfer will be of your persona, without the improved function of the organ itself, I’m afraid your memory will be as it was before you met us.”

  “So, more or less fucked,” I grumbled, setting my guitar aside. “That’s just great. How the hell am I supposed to improve my life if all I have to work with is a mind that functions like a worn-out Model-T running on dried-up oil and needing a hand-crank to get it started?”

  “It won’t be as bad as all that, Rix,” Aurélie said. “The wisdom you’ve accumulated over the years will still be intact. The only things that might be a little murky are some details of your past, and that’s common for anyone your age. It’s not like you’re going to be starting out with a blank slate.”

  “Hey,” I said. “You don’t live in my old brain, so how the hell do you know what’s left in there? I do, and I can tell you that without the magic Jack juice there ain’t much.”

  She looked shocked at my anger, and for a moment no one spoke. Finally, Heyoka broke the silence. “I understand your trepidation,” he said, “but much of it is unwarranted. As Aurélie said, your accumulated wisdom will still be there, as will the mental aspects of your matured talents and musical acumen, all of which should serve you well. As for the memories, one of the reasons we’ve been refreshing them with the overviews and the trips back is so you will have those more recent experiences to call on. Certainly your recollections will not be as sharp and clear as they are now, but they won’t be gone altogether.”

  “Okay. Okay, I get it,” I said. “So, any more warnings?”

  “Other than the things we’ve already discussed about the conflict between your older mind and your younger body, I can’t think of any,” Heyoka said. “Although, I do need to reiterate the fact that this
is an experiment. We’ve done all the calculations possible, and the data tell us everything should go according to plan. But since nothing like this has ever been tried before, we can’t be absolutely certain about the ultimate outcome. I can assure you of one thing, though: you will go back and become a younger version of yourself. And since the current version has very little time left, you should be—”

  “I should be grateful,” I interjected. “And I am. But I’m also terrified, so forgive me if I sound a little unappreciative at times. Neither one of you two geniuses has the slightest idea what I’m going through right now. I’m not only about to embark on a journey into the unknown, but I’m also about to say goodbye to a woman I love more than anything on this earth.”

  Even though my feelings for Aurélie were no secret, I could tell Heyoka was embarrassed when I turned to her and we embraced. “I’ll leave you two alone for a while,” he mumbled, rising and shuffling across the room toward the hallway.

  As soon as he was out of sight, the grief I’d been holding back for weeks exploded in a torrent. Aurélie held me tight, and although she didn’t make a sound, I soon realized the tears were mutual. Like me, she was far from being an overly emotional person, and her sudden loss of control surprised me. We stayed like that for a long time while our mutual anguish was slowly mollified by the anesthetizing monotony of rain pounding on the windows.

  Finally, we managed to compose ourselves, and after we’d destroyed half a dozen tissues I said, “Sorry. I tried not to let that happen, but I couldn’t help it. As I’m sure you know by now, I’m not much of a crier. I mostly convey my feelings through music, which is why I haven’t written anything in decades; because, frankly, I haven’t felt anything in decades. At least anything worth writing about.”