Trans-Human (Post-Human Sequel)

by David Simpson

  The doppelganger smiled. “On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer,” he observed, before adding, “you’re not dead, James.” He put his hand reassuringly on James’s shoulder.

  “Okay,” James replied after a moment, still not sure if he was engaging in a conversation with images from his subconscious or not—did he even have a subconscious any more?

  “He doesn’t believe you, Jim,” Katherine said to the doppelganger.

  James arched his eyebrow quizzically. “Jim?”

  The doppelganger smiled. “I needed a name. I’m not you—at least not anymore—so I needed something to differentiate myself. I figured going by Jim was the easiest.”

  “Jim?” James repeated, his eyebrows now knitted.

  The doppelganger laughed. “Yeah, I know. I hated it too but coming up with a whole new name didn’t appeal to me.”

  “I prefer Jim now,” Katherine said. Jim turned to Katherine and shrugged in response. James immediately recognized that she wasn’t referring to the name.

  “What the hell is going on?” James asked. “Who or what are you?”

  “I’m your doppelganger. We’ve met. You remember.”

  “And I’m your former wife,” Katherine added, “you remember?” Hell hath no fury.

  “My wife is gone,” James replied. “I saw her deleted by the A.I. myself. I took control of the mainframe and checked to see if there was any trace of her left. You’re not my wife.”

  “We were both deleted,” Jim responded, stepping in between James and Katherine before Katherine had a chance to fire back—he could tell she wanted to from her rigid body language. “We ended up here.”

  “Where is here?” James asked.

  “The other side of the looking glass,” Katherine interjected with a sardonic smile.

  “Honey, please,” Jim said, putting his hand on her shoulder in a gesture for civility. “This is going to be confusing enough for him without riddles.” He turned back to James, “We’re still in the mainframe—sort of,” Jim explained.

  “Impossible,” James replied, disbelieving and yet getting used to the impossible becoming possible.

  “Impossible? That’s not the sort of word I remember the greatest inventor in the world ever using before,” said the most kind and familiar voice in James’s life. He turned quickly with a start and his eyes fell upon the unmistakable figure of the A.I..

  2

  “What sort of sick game is this?” James asked, turning from the A.I. and looking up into the sky as though he were addressing an omnipresent listener. “You couldn’t just kill me, could you? You had to play one last sadistic trick?”

  “Who the hell are you talking to, you moron?” asked Katherine as she shook her head dismissively.

  “Honey! Please,” Jim responded to her, “He is 99.999 percent me. Please have a little compassion for his situation.”

  “Honey?” James reacted with morbid curiosity.

  Katherine smiled the instant she realized that she had the chance to cause James more pain. “That’s right.” She crossed over to Jim and put her arm around his waist, cradling his body next to hers. “Jim and I have become lovers.”

  Jim sighed and shook his head, “Katherine, please.”

  For a fraction of a second, James’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Okay. What the hell is going on?”

  “They’ve mended fences, James,” responded the A.I., completely returned to the friendly, elderly form with which James had been familiar for most of his life. “They had a lot of history and a powerful emotional attachment between them. It took time, but they have become very close once again over the past year and seven months.”

  James didn’t know with whom he should share his look of astonishment. His eyes moved from the A.I.’s, to the doppelganger’s, to Katherine’s and then back to the doppelganger’s. Jim started answering questions without James having to ask them. “We were both deleted—we found each other here—we’ve had a lot of time to talk through our issues. We’re different people than we were before, James.”

  James closed his eyes to block out the visions around him. He told himself that he would figure out what was going on. He wasn’t insane. Katherine sensed his anguish and she timed a kiss on Jim’s cheek to correlate perfectly with the reopening of James’s eyes.

  The A.I. strolled in front of James and met his eye. “Reconciliation is possible, James. It’s good to have you back, my son.”

  “My son?” James scoffed. “You think I’m going to believe that you’re the A.I.? The A.I. was deleted by the nans. The A.I. is gone. There is no coming back.”

  “I was deleted. That’s true,” the A.I. concurred.

  “You’re trying to drive me insane. I don’t know why,” James grunted, shaking his head and turning away from the trio of ghosts.

  “It is the A.I., James,” Jim said, his voice filled with compassion. If there was ever a time when it was easy to feel empathy for someone, it was now. “It’s the real A.I.—the one we’ve always known.”

  “Impossible.”

  “I’m not asking you to believe me, James,” the A.I. replied patiently, his tone just as kind as it always used to be, back before he had been deleted and replaced by the nans. “Belief is not good enough for rational minds such as yours. I’m only asking that you use your reason. Then you can decide for yourself whether we are who we say we are.”

  “You might as well listen,” Katherine chimed in, “After all, it’s not like you’re going anywhere.”

  3

  Even before Old-timer had reached the other side of the wormhole, he could see the unprecedented size of the nan attack on the android fleet. The android presence stretched out as far as the eye could see at this range; it was a wall of people and continent sized frigates that dwarfed any asteroid belt. Look as far as you wanted to, up, down, or to either side and you could not see the end of it.

  The nans that had exploded off of the surface of Mars, the Earth and Venus in a number that might as well have been infinite, were crashing against the equally infinite wall of androids. The massive celestial cloud of nans was even darker than the androids and had become a planet-sized hurricane of hell. The worst of it seemed to be several minutes away by light speed, but it was doing catastrophic damage at every moment and was nearing the frigate where Old-timer’s friends were being held.

  Old-timer floated into the opening of the frigate; the metallic skins of the ships had large gaps within them to allow for easy accessibility. However, the gaping openings reminded Old-timer of his childhood and the sight of buffalos rotting in the Texas sun, their backs torn open by scavengers so that their rib cages were exposed.

  He dropped down into the inner workings of the immense structure, cruising by the network of catwalks and platforms and working his way towards the room in which he knew his friends were still unconscious—Neirbo hovering over them in waiting.

  When he found the right door, he opened it with his android mind’s eye and floated in. His expression immediately changed from the grimmest brooding to the utmost concern when he saw his friends locked into the metal coffins.

  They were already awake.

  “What the hell is this?” Rich yelled furiously as he watched Old-timer enter the room, aghast at what he saw as the false image of his former friend.

  “Why are they awake? You said you’d wait,” Old-timer demanded of Neirbo who stood adjacent to the three black coffin structures. No one else was in the room with them.

  “They’ve only just been awakened at this instant,” Neirbo replied matter-of-factly.

  “You could’ve given me a little warning,” Old-timer replied tersely.

  “Time,” was all that Neirbo said in reply.

  “What are you? Why are you doing this?” Thel demanded, the dismay in her voice causing it to crack.

  “Please,” Old-timer said to her and the others, holding his palms towards them in a gesture for calm.

  “You’re not Old-timer! You�
��re one of them!” Djanet reacted angrily.

  “I’m still Old-timer—I’m still Craig,” Old-timer replied. “I need you to stay calm while I explain...”

  “We know you aren’t Old-timer!” Rich yelled back, “So you can take whatever lies you’ve got cooked up and shove them straight up your metal ass!”

  “Where’s James?” asked Thel as she realized that he wasn’t in the room with them. His absence sent a terrible stab of dread through her chest.

  “That wasn’t James,” Old-timer replied as calmly as he could, though the constant trauma he had endured was quickly breaking him down.

  “More lies!” Rich shouted. “You’re an android! We don’t have to believe a thing you say! You murdered Old-timer! You’re pissing on his memory by wearing his likeness! You’re not fit to even pretend...”

  “This isn’t working,” Neirbo suddenly interjected with enough force to stop Rich’s fury in its tracks. “We should proceed with the standard education.”

  “No!” Old-timer shouted at him, waving him back before turning his attention to Rich. “You’re just going to have to forgive me for this,” he said before stepping towards Rich and punching him hard across the face. Rich recoiled violently as he rolled with the punch as best he could in his restraints. A moment or two of stunned silence followed before Rich turned his face slowly around to reveal that the blow had torn the skin on his cheek, exposing the metal casing underneath.

  “Oh my God,” Djanet gasped.

  “What have you done?” Thel whispered, suddenly beginning to realize the horrendous implications.

  “You monsters!” Djanet screeched ferociously at Old-timer.

  “I’m okay,” Rich said, reassuringly to Djanet and Thel. “I can take a little punch.” His face contorted into utter bafflement as the two women continued to react with horror.

  “It’s not just the punch,” Old-timer said quietly.

  “They’ve turned you into one of them!” Djanet began to sob. “You’re one of them!”

  Rich’s eyes grew to match his terror. “What?” he tried to say, the words evaporating in his throat and dissipating to an inaudible whisper.

  “It’s the same for all of you,” Old-timer stated frankly. He paused for a moment before correcting himself: “All of us.”

  “I... I don’t believe it,” Thel said as tears of pain, terror, and dread welled in her eyes.

  “I’ll show them if I have to,” Neirbo said to Old-timer.

  “No!” Old-timer shouted back in response for the second time. He turned to address his friends once again. “Look, believe me, we’ve all been assimilated. You don’t want anymore proof.”

  “Assimilated?” Djanet cried out. “You’ve killed us! We’re just copies! You killed us!”

  “We are running low on time,” Neirbo warned.

  “Who the hell is that guy?” Rich demanded.

  “His name is Neirbo. He’s one of the androids.”

  “I’m human,” Neirbo replied firmly. “So are all of you.”

  “How the hell do you figure that?” Rich demanded.

  Old-timer stepped in once again, keeping his palms up as he desperately tried to keep his friends from antagonizing Neirbo. He knew the consequences of doing that all too well. “Look, we’re about to let you go. We’re going to explain what’s going on to you and then what you decide to do with that information is up to you. I hope you’ll help me. I hope we can work together to get out of this mess. But it’s up to you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Thel asked.

  “You’re still human,” Neirbo replied.

  “He needs to shut up,” Rich spat.

  “This is not going well,” Neirbo sighed. “The empath would have been invaluable. You should have brought her with you.”

  “She wanted to go back to her old body,” Old-timer responded. “You said we were free to choose. That’s what she chose.”

  “We granted you the right to try to persuade them because we felt the empath could achieve this and allow us to avoid the standard education. We are running out of time.”

  “Just give me two minutes,” Old-timer pleaded. “Just give me two minutes and I can make them understand.”

  “Understand what? What’s happening?” Thel asked again.

  “The nans have turned against us,” Old-timer explained. “The andr... these... metallic humans came here to save us, not to harm us.”

  “To save us?” Rich reacted with exasperation. “By destroying our bodies and making machine copies?”

  “By transferring you to new bodies,” Neirbo interjected, “and discarding the infected ones.”

  “They tried to contact us but the nans blocked their communication,” Old-timer furthered.

  “Old-timer, how can you possibly know that they’re telling you the truth?” Thel replied.

  Old-timer remained silent for a moment, his eyes locked with Thel’s. He could show them how he knew, but he didn’t want to.

  “Show them,” Neirbo urged. “Show them now.”

  “They’re must be another way,” Old-timer replied.

  “There is. Would you prefer that?”

  “No!” Old-timer shouted for a third time. “No,” he repeated immediately, this time more softly. “Of course not. Fine. Show them,” he said, turning his back and facing the wall.

  A recording began to play in the mind’s eyes of the three prisoners. It was a point of view shot of James in the A.I. mainframe.

  4

  “James!” Thel exclaimed. “When was this recorded?”

  “Alejandra and I saw this live just before we came to get you on the Purist ship,” Old-timer replied.

  “Who is talking to James?” Thel asked.

  “It is 1,” Neirbo replied.

  “1?”

  “There must be a voice for the human race,” Neirbo explained. “Since we are all of equal intelligence and ability, we randomly select a person to be our leader every 1000 days. This person takes on the moniker 1 and spends that time jacked into our collective consciousness. She is the only person who can communicate with all of us at once; she leads us. It is a tremendous burden—but also the highest honor.”

  “Why is she talking to James?” Thel asked, still confused.

  “Listen,” Neirbo said in his typically toneless voice.

  Thel watched the exchange from the point of view of 1. “We wish for you to join with us,” 1 said to James. “We have to fight the nans here before they join with the other organisms of their type that are already established throughout the universe. There can be no safety for the human species in this universe until the last of the nans are finally eliminated.”

  James’s expression was terrifying—Thel could read the hopelessness in his eyes. “I appreciate the offer,” James said, “but there’s a problem.”

  “What is it?” asked 1.

  “I’m not alone,” James said ominously.

  “What do you mean?” 1 asked.

  “The A.I. still exists,” James said, suddenly meeting her eyes, “and it has become part of me,” he admitted. Thel gasped with fright.

  “What?” 1 asked in a whisper. 1’s terror could be felt by those watching. “It’s here? Now?”

  “Yes,” the A.I. interjected as he suddenly appeared with his all too familiar sadistic grin exposing his razor teeth.

  “Then I’m sorry,” 1 replied with regret, “You’ve been corrupted too. There’s no hope for you.” She paused for a moment, eyes locked with James. Thel was able to look right into his eyes and see the terror—she had never seen him like that—the blackness of all hope lost. She knew he was gone.

  “No!” she yelled out as she twisted her body in agony. “No!” she yelled out again as she began to sob. “No,” she said one last time before the sobs consumed her.

  Old-timer turned to Neirbo. “Let them go,” he whispered.

  Neirbo nodded in silent agreement and with a simple thought, the three prisoners were freed. Rich
rushed to embrace Djanet, who touched his damaged face lightly and carefully; she was unable to find words regarding the ghastly appearance of the metal structure underneath where his cheekbone should have been. They both quickly turned to Thel and comforted her as she sobbed. Djanet held Thel’s head on her shoulder, taking the guttural heaves of utter agony against her chest, while Rich held her hand tightly.

  Old-timer stood and watched the misery. This is the future? he thought to himself. The optimism that he had worked his entire life to cultivate about the destiny of humanity was wrong? How could this be? How could he have been so wrong?

  “You’d better tell them the rest,” Neirbo said, breaking the silence.

  “The rest?” Rich reacted. “How much worse does this get?”

  “A lot worse, old buddy. The nans were waiting to attack us. They were in our bodies and in everything that James had recreated—absolutely everything. Alejandra and I tried to warn as many of the survivors as we could but...”

  “But what?” Rich asked, the dread of realizing that his family still had the nans within them gripping his insides and drying out his mouth.

  “They didn’t have much warning. I... I saw Daniella die. They didn’t deactivate quickly enough...” Old-timer couldn’t say another word.

  Djanet, Rich, and even Thel were silenced by Old-timer’s revelation. If Old-timer hadn’t been able to save his own wife, then what were the chances that any of the other survivors had made it? They’d been ripped apart by the nans—again.

  “The nanobots from this solar system are currently attacking our collective,” Neirbo stated, adding to the implacable ghoulishness of the circumstances. “Every moment, they are killing millions of our numbers,” he said making sure to meet the eyes of everyone in the room, “and they are headed this way. Soon it will be us they are consuming.”

  “Then why don’t you retreat?” Old-timer demanded. “Why don’t you get all of us the hell out of here before it’s too late?”

  “If we do that, our billions of lives—your billions of lives as well—will have been sacrificed for nothing,” Neirbo snapped back.