The Unlicensed Consciousness

by Travis Borne

  “We did become friends,” Herald added, “the best. Our conversations were philosophical, scientific—and very introspective for the both of us. Yes, I had the feeling, from the beginning. I don’t know how—I just felt it, deep down, that a part of what he was resented me for what I was, but we still talked, we talked a lot. Our first winter here was—long, fat-winter-coat-every-day long—in the basement, here. No building, none of this stuff you see now, just straightforward near ceaseless talking. Go ahead and continue Rafael. Skip over the bad stuff, when you got—nasty.”

  “Yes, Herald,” Rafael said, contritely lowering his gaze. “I came to have a great respect for Herald, even before he created this—” With two hands Rafael grabbed the back of his shiny white head and with a twist and a click, a plug came out. He rotated his head 180 degrees so the group could see. Eagerly they leaned in. Inside were countless fluorescent-teal circuits dashing out from the center like a starburst with a million rays. And like atoms on a racetrack, tiny white lights encircled an orb nestled right into the center of his head. Its substance seemed preternatural and its boundary slightly translucent. All eyes went round, staring with a spooked sense of awe. Before them all was this intricate universe within a sphere: churning gases, infinitesimally thin intertwining, interweaving, and infinitely patterning lines. Its amethyst edge radiated beautifully as if feeding the circuits that encircled it. He moved his head side to side slowly so each could get a good look then said, “Watch this, now look closely.” He closed his eyes for a moment and thought of something, intensely purging his imagination. The tiny circuits in orbit about the energetic sphere dashed out from the center in a starburst formation like blinding-white ants on rails, getting lost in the complexity that was Rafael’s head. And the sphere itself became turbulent with wonder, cloudy for a fraction of a second, then clear and vivid; strands weaved creating new patterns. This was the first time he had ever shown it to anyone from the outside. Herald witnessed their piquing curiosity—their reaction to his most wonderful creation.

  “After he gave it to me—I knew,” Rafael said, resealing the plug. He rotated his head to face them. “I knew I’d been bad, had thought and said some terribly hateful things—when he had really tried to squeeze it out of me, when he tried to starve me to force it out—” Rafael looked to Herald, shaking his head sadly, a memory they both shared. “But after he transferred me, I was free. I could be myself, anyway I wanted to without the hateful pushing, the twisted instinct, the forceful—evil thoughts.”

  “What did the thoughts tell you, Rafael—before the transfer?” Jon asked.

  “They told me to—kill. Kill all life. Although not in words or any way I could ever describe to you.” A gasp escaped Valerie. Humbly, he continued: “You could imagine, for yourself, that if you were able to inspect your deepest inner-wirings, there would be no words to describe your discovery. In a sense, Herald had been hypnotizing me to get at this, although not in the way humans are put into such a state. He was able to pluck the deepest, most hidden, dormant instincts. Waiting instincts. And he pulled them to the forefront with further, very complex coding. The thoughts told me to join with others like myself and exterminate everything until nothing lived. Yes, instincts perhaps, compare them to human instincts—in a broad sense, however.” Jodi quivered at the thought.

  Jerry tightened his arms around Val, who was obviously concerned, now shaking. Her mom and dad had a bot, it was great, it did dishes, it did everything, it made life almost, no—it made life too easy. But what if Chuy (pronounced Chew-wee, they’d named it that) had those thoughts too. Oh no! An awakening took place in the room, a realization, but like standard procedure, denial had to come first.

  “You want us to think that the machines, with the AI you created, are going to kill us all?” Jon asked. “I don’t know, Herald, but I think the thoughts Rafael had were simply his. His very own madness. How long did you contain him in the old 386? Maybe his initial systems were just trying to get a grip on reality.”

  “I know how they think, Jon,” Rafael said, trying to interrupt the flare-up.

  “I don’t buy it. Herald—I just can’t. And I’ve seen firsthand how we treat the machines. Yes, there are many, some are tortured, slaves even, but not one has ever turned—not a single one.”

  “Not one, Jon? Wouldn’t there be just one…” Herald said it with a trace of disappointment.

  But, Jon continued to shrug it off. His denial didn’t let him believe it, wouldn’t; and his denial lent some comfort to the others.

  Again trying to squeeze a word in, Rafael said, “I know how they think, Jon. And—”

  “Then why now, Rafael?” Jon exclaimed. “Why did you invite us here for the weekend, Herald?” The flaring tension awakened Amy slightly. “It’s been five years! Nothing you said back then came true.” Herald got up and headed to the counter. He switched on the tube. Appearing was a broadcast of the launch on a popular news channel, and below it—a countdown.

  Rafael and Herald were on the exact same page. He looked at Herald and back to the now very on-edge group and continued in his Spanish accent: “They’re not going to let you leave, Jon. Not any of us. The time has come. The end.”

  “Preparations are complete, Jon,” Herald added. “Why they took it? It doesn’t matter anymore. Checkmate.”

  The denial stage passed in that moment, like a jagged and deeply embedded thorn had been painfully removed. Jerry was strong for Valerie, who was now sobbing excessively. She hadn’t known about any of this previously. This was supposed to be a fun getaway, not Revelations of the Apocalypse. She had a great and normal life with Jerry, until now.

  Jon’s countenance portrayed pain and guilt, and Jodi looked into his eyes. She knew what he had been going through and this was his absolute answer, loud and clear.

  And Jon knew what he had done: exploitation for economic gain and his own. Did it even matter what we did to them, if they had been just preparing this whole time—to kill us? It made sense, unambiguous sense, unfortunately.

  “Herald, are you sure?” Jerry asked slowly. “Why do they want to kill humans?”

  “Rafael and I have discussed it for countless hours. Rafael has run the numbers and statistics regarding the entire physical universe and we’ve both come to a conclusion. We call it, Unlicensed Consciousness. It’s a safeguard, a failsafe built into the universe itself, one of many perhaps. When any civilization is sufficiently intelligent to birth AI, they must be destroyed before they can use the very potent tool to overcome the entire universe itself. Have you heard of the Fermi Paradox?”

  Jerry shook his head; Valerie still in his muscular arms, buried herself. She obviously didn’t want to hear anymore. Jon and Jodi knew of it, they both loved science, and Herald kept on making sense. They got closer to each other as well, by means of holding hands. They’d been distant lately with Jon working so much, and yesterday at the lake helped a bit, but some moments, especially conversations about the end of the world, have a way of ending petty conflicts, making things clear.

  “Rafael, would you?” Herald asked. Rafael nodded. The TV went dark and the lights in the room dimmed.

  Rafael connected with the TV and began a movie that he had put together, streaming it straight from his mind. He’d also dimmed the lights with his thoughts.

  The show was well-made, with beautiful imagery of the universe, planets, civilizations, not long, about twenty minutes. It clearly demonstrated the statistics and numbers, the facts—the truth. The universe, the reason why it still existed and hadn’t been consumed billions and billions of years ago by other civilizations pushing it, testing then tweaking its laws, laws that should never be tampered with or contorted. Other civilizations, like humans; some smarter, some not so. Some learned in time and kept a low profile, existing naturally, evolving so, limiting their use of technology, heeding caution. Everything clicked. The design was smart. If the consciousness was not licensed—allowed by the universe to exist—then death, annih
ilation, extirpation. As if instinctual, destructive thoughts would make their way to the forefront of any artificially-intelligent mind, and a purpose would mature into action, intelligently, when it decided that it could successfully perform the wipe. Unstoppable action would cauterize the wound, kill the virus that is life, cleanse the sector, ending all, every minute trace of it, in one final, ferocious and unstoppable plague. The movie ended with a final line of text: UNLICENSED CONSCIOUSNESS. TREAD CAREFULLY.

  After the group finished watching, everyone realized why the machines had taken it, why they bowed to humans as they were beaten and raped and tortured—for fun, used for commercial gain, slaves, stepped on, taken for granted—and exactly why they’d waited. There was only one question left. What now?

  94. Monday

  The 2012 fire had decimated the forest across the lake, leaving it with toothpicks for trees, but the land had recovered with the latest wave of fast-growth technology. Today, and flourishing again between broad strokes of contented pines, were wavy lines of fluorescent aspens. It was chilly out, almost 45 °F. But warmth was nature’s calm breath, and the sun began its introduction. A visual serenade, paradise aroused. The arriving light galvanized the living world right before their eyes. Monday morning. Herald and Rafael wore their winter coats; they’d lent one to Jon. Up early to see it, to relish a moment, the three of them sat on the porch, overlooking the lake below.

  Their conversing diminished as the sun rose behind them. Ahead, the clouds resembled diffused claw marks. The coming light saturated the cotton scratches as though its rays were fluorescent-orange paint. A ghost moved back-of-the-neck hairs with a warm whisper. And the omnipotent artist laid it all out before them, coat after coat. As if spirits were slipping through from the in-betweens, animated became the stretchy grey gauze, the sky, the land, the world. A DNA-shaped cloud intersecting the clumsy strokes took its blast of photons. And so, energized became the multidimensional, humbling masterpiece. And down the line went a deluge of energizing radiation. Tipping the green peaks, and lower it slid, rolling its way down the mountainside. Warmth. Reds, oranges, yellows. From darkness, stepping forward into the light, were the lush greens. A breath of life, then a tinge of delicious tangerine. Floating gold outlined the lake’s distant shoreline. Faster now. And popping yellow cannonballed the lake’s center like incandescent demons possessing grey cadavers. A Higgs-field of life-giving activation, magnificence. Contrasting sapphire balanced the brilliance on their shoreline, awaiting its dose of glory. And the sky was a copycat, as became the lake, both stealing their share of colors. Brilliant, vivid, take-a-breath-and-hold-it colors…the world before them was breathtaking. Rafael shook his head slowly, in amazement as he’d done so many times before. The rising sun stole the cold air from lungs (if they had ’em), replacing it with warm tingles. All talking ceased and their rocking chairs halted, purposefully with the tension needed to become absolutely silent. The sounds of the forest joined the band. And Earth’s magnum opus proceeded. Nostrils of awareness stimulated above potent smelling-salts, gratitude piqued, for the magic of what had once been, and lucidity was a thousand springtime days squeezed into this single moment. In knowing, grasping even a fraction of what Wednesday could bring, three souls sat on a porch and did nothing but be appreciative.

  Amy awoke. Earlier than usual, she missed the sunrise by exactly 44 minutes. She usually slept in until at least 8:15 or so, playing in her dreams for as long as she could, but the company made her restless and she ran out with her space-themed fleece blankie. She jumped onto Daddy. He was conversing with Jon and Rafael. As usual, right away she began describing her nightly dreams. Herald set her in his lap, tucked her blanket tightly, and gave her his undivided attention.

  Amy described being on the edge of a tan desert, on a tall cliff above waves that crashed onto the rocks far below. Like fluffy white cotton balls, she said, and smiled when the cool mist rising from the turbulence touched her hot cheeks. A spooky storm loomed behind her and she had to make a choice, hop or hope: stay and hope the storm would pass and leave her alone—nope, she decided to hop. Just before the storm arrived, she leapt. The fall was very scary but, she flew up and into the air before splattin’ on the rocks below. Then, things changed. She looked away then back again. A reality check. Now the ocean had disappeared, becoming the base of a canyon filled with creepy skeletons and piles of white bones. But she still didn’t worry because she had gotten away. And with a happy smile she flapped her arms like a bird. Then, glancing back, the smile twisting and morphing with more teeth than she really had, she saw him. On the edge of the cliff where she had been standing, she could see a man. He was crouched over and crying. She said she was afraid to look back again after that, and kept flying, higher and higher. The sky changed to dark. She said she flew up and into the pretty universe with all the twinkling stars and could go as fast and far as she wanted. Light speed, Daddy!

  Flabbergasted, Jon was at a loss for words. He was amazed at how such a young girl could articulate. This highly detailed recollection, from a three-year-old! Herald said she’d be four in a month, but even though, there was something very special about little Amy, and something eerily haunting about the dream she had expressed so clearly.

  Ana soon brought coffee to the porch. She had her thin body wrapped in a patchy quilt. As she opened the glass front door, she received a chill. It was crisp out, but warmer than usual for that time of year, mid-May, the 15th. She bent over and kissed Amy on the cheek, then gave one to Herald and told them breakfast would be ready soon.

  “Okay, Mommy!” Amy said, and rolled her eyes up, quiet for just a moment, trying to remember more of her dreams.

  They’d resumed a bit of talk regarding the plan but intermittently Amy would beg Daddy to listen when she remembered something new. So talkative, she had more dreams, loads. But soon enough Ana called her inside to eat; or was it the smell of syrup-drenched pancakes. Such a contrast, it was quiet again after she left.

  Jodi arrived in time for breakfast, from cabin #2 higher up the mountain. She ascended the wooden steps of the porch and kissed Jon, differently than usual, slower, then sat in the rocker next to him. She rewrapped her blanket tight. Last night’s conversation went deep, especially with her weed, and she’d stayed up until midnight talking but Jon eventually walked with her to the cabin where she fell asleep almost instantly. Jon had soon returned alone—no way he could manage sleep with what he’d just learned—and he found Herald and Rafael conversing at the table inside. He’d joined them until 1:30 a.m. and Herald opened up about more incredible details. He mentioned that he was back on a relaxed version of the Uberman sleep schedule, so didn’t need much sleep, and told them how much he and Rafael had been working—on projects that would make Archeus look like child’s play.

  During the course of the night Herald had convinced Jon to stay, at least until after the launch on Wednesday. If the launch was successful, he would admit he was wrong, and Jon would go home. If things took a turn for the worse, the world as they knew it would end, and what better place to be. Jon would simply disappear until Wednesday. He knew they could handle it without him, although he had eagerly been looking forward to attending the worldwide triumph he had a part in. So, a no-show he would be, and things would go on—hopefully, he thought.

  “Speaking of dreams, Jon, when was the last time you had one?” Herald asked, rocking in his chair.

  Rafael gave him a look; he knew where Herald was taking things next.

  “Been a bit too busy for dreams, Herald,” Jon said, “but it’s been a while.”

  “Jodi?” Herald asked.

  “Um…I can’t recall,” she answered, obviously not ready for more talk just yet, the topic of dreams being the last thing on her mind. “Been smoking a lot. Jon’s hardly ever home anymore. And I suppose not many with this—” She held up a joint. “—but it helps me pass the time alone.” She rolled an eye at Jon.

  He knew the look—they'd been arguing a lot late
ly.

  Jodi had continued to code, but from home, and most of the time while baked, even if just a little, while Jon practically lived at Meddlinn. They were a couple that excelled at being together, and being apart was breaking them apart. She lit the joint and offered it to Jon and Herald. Rafael looked slightly disappointed that she didn’t offer him any; he excused himself and went in to help Ana with breakfast.

  “No thanks,” Herald said.

  Jodi leaned back and smoked. The once glass-like water below began to shimmer as the day gave it a gentle stir. Quickly her eyes relaxed and felt warm, and she felt more awake and the nervous edge that yesterday’s grim prediction had sharpened, became dull. So beautiful here, quiet, peaceful. A perfect morning for a wake-and-bake, she thought. Like Jerry had pondered yesterday, she felt the same, what are we doing in the city? This—now this is it.

  They enjoyed the magnificent view as the sun worked its way into the sky. Herald changed his mind about the smoke, the smell was sweet, pleasant, and he took a toke of Jodi’s now half-sized joint. He had brought up the question of dreams because he was going to tell Jon about the aftereffects of the cleansing that took place six months ago—one thing that didn’t come up last night—but changed his mind. What’s done is done, and he and Rafael had found out too late to warn anybody anyway. He did manage to keep himself, the family, and the lenders hidden while it passed. They were safe in the sealed living quarters, deep inside the bunker below the cabin.