The Unlicensed Consciousness

by Travis Borne

  “But—” Jim said. “Why did she have to die, and how—”

  “Jim, the Amy you knew was a copy, exact in every detail. And although she did have her own life, she’d been lent a consciousness—from the real Amy. In effect, the Amy you knew was a dream character.”

  Ted realized and said, “The ball, the one in her head—”

  “Yes, exactly. She was a copy, we printed her you might say. The real Amy, here with us now—” He turned to her and smiled. “—had been lending, for years, although we have advanced technology that allowed her to integrate the process seamlessly into her life, without the need to be, asleep.”

  “But she had to die?” Jim re-asked.

  “In the final moments of life, a power is released, on one plane of the universe, a dimension other than this. It is stronger than anything imaginable.” He paused. “Imagine a garden and she was a flower. When she was ready, she released her petals, which she had nurtured, grown, with her own life experiences, giving them to the many, you. And you all, those who have been touched by it, as I feel all of you in front of me have, received a part of her. A part of her imagination is now yours. A gift you might say—to replace what you’ve lost, had stolen. And you will nurture it and it will continue to grow. And one day, one special day—you too will explode, like a supernova—on the other plane of which I speak—and you will be spread throughout, giving a part of your own self to an entirely new universe of beings. And the flowers in the garden continue to grow, and blossom and bloom.”

  “And this needed to take place, her death, to be able to contact you?” Jim said.

  “The Amy you knew had a choice, an age-old dilemma it is, sacrifice the one to save the many. Jim made the choice to save you all, and Amy accepted his choice. Without the both of them and their decision, things could have played out very differently. The Amy you knew—she gave you all a very special gift indeed. Now, there is only one Amy remaining, and she is here. Her copied counterparts were designed not only to repair each and every one of you, and your DNA, providing you once again imagination and curiosity, but our systems used a small sliver of this power—for contact. We were on the far side of the universe when we received your call. And we came to save you. You have proven yourselves.”

  “Proven ourselves?”

  “I never intended to save the world, Jim. But I gave it a chance. We did.” He splayed his arms about his team and family. “Many of these towns were constructed, surrounded by a wall, built by the builders—immense and very powerful robots. Some of the towns, however, fought with each other, some abused the chance we provided. Only a small few came through. Those, meaning each of you in front of me, worked with what they had, cared deeply for one another—even waited until Amy and others had grown because they knew about problems with early versions of the lending systems, that amnesia could result among youngsters. Many towns went ahead regardless of knowing, carelessly, as humanity had always proceeded to a large degree, hence the predicament in which we find this planet—a total loss. You and your town are special, you worked together. The system went both ways, Jim. We received your mind, your memories—we saw it all, how you lived—and a decision was made. And because of this we are here now, and we welcome all of you to join us.”

  “I know so much about you, Herald, about Meddlinn and your struggles. I also know the machines started scanning humans, stealing their consciousness.” Jim turned to Amy. “I even remember your childhood dreams, Amy. People enslaved in a dream world, used, abused, forced to work. What about those others?” Jim asked. The wall he’d built in his mind started to crack. And he continued after a hard swallow. “What about those in the ship, half of our town that boarded that monstrosity? Are we going to try and save them? You talk about the importance of consciousness on this other plane, what about them?”

  Herald paused. He flattened a smile and looked to Ana and Amy, who sat next to him.

  Jon was still standing behind them. Jon knew Valerie hadn’t been scanned when she and her child passed during childbirth, and that Jodi’s consciousness was safe, and from all he’d learned, they could eventually meet up, possibly during the next transitional stage—but he thought of Jerry.

  “Jerry,” Jon said, looking at Herald.

  “Is he, Herald?” Jim asked. He’d seen him through Amy’s eyes, so the resemblance was altered, rationalized. But he already knew. And the wall in his mind crumbled as if an earthquake was tearing it to pieces, and his heart now pumped with the power of three, hurting his chest.

  “You know that I never said I could save them all,” Herald expressed. “Even with the power of this ship, and every being aboard, and the knowledge we tread carefully with, I cannot save them all.”

  Silence took over. And Jim thought deeply. He remembered in the recollection: Herald never gave up, he went against all odds. Why? Because someone had to. He realized with all he was so quickly learning, and with all that he had learned in his own life, that this was the way of the universe. That it called for a person, just one with the right plan, the right friends, and the right amount of information—but mostly, imagination. It took this to succeed, to save. And he asked again, “Herald, is he?”

  “Yes, Jim, he is. He came to me at the cabins and asked sincerely if there was any chance, any way in hell, as he put it. He told me you were a dreamer, the smartest young guy he knew. I told him it would be difficult, nearly impossible. But I gave him my word I would try. You were on the other side of the country and it wasn’t easy but we finally managed to save you. I wish we could’ve saved the rest of your family. Yes, Jim. But I am sure you already know. Jerry is your brother, and yes, he was scanned.”

  Nothing remained of the wall but rubble, and there was Jerry standing like the giant he was, in Jim’s mind. His memories and that of Amy’s merged to create a clear vision of his older brother. And yes, he had already known. He knew after receiving the memories. Denial, the pain of it all, the war, his old rigid mind, every fucking damn thing, had made him blind. He wanted to cry and break down, but did the exact opposite.

  “We must be going now,” Herald said.

  “Herald, Amy, Ana, I want to thank you for saving us,” Jim said, “for giving us a chance. But, I cannot go. I am going to use the chance you have given me. I’m going to save the others, all of them.”

  Herald had yet to see this with the others. He sighed. He couldn’t imagine what it would take to get that consciousness back from the world of machines. They’d turned the planet into an impenetrable shell, and he knew what was coming, soon. They’d even stolen his own ideas about lending and employing consciousness, and had evolved billions of times over. Even with the magnificent powers he shared with his new friends of the universe—it was suicide. The steps of possibility, getting taller with each rise, farther and farther from reach, were unable to be grasped. His other accomplishments paled in comparison to what this one man had just decided to undertake—but, he knew what passion and determination could do.

  “Can I, sir, have the key to this city?” Jim asked.

  “You’ll go about this alone? Surely the others want what we can offer, and I’m needed elsewhere so unfortunately cannot assist. Jewel City is now the last city on Earth, the final stand, and it’s only a matter of time—they’re closing in. Do you even realize what you are saying?”

  Somehow, Jim knew—he was not going to be alone.

  Jon raised a hand and said, “Jim, I’m with you. I owe it to Jerry. If he’s out there I cannot let him down.”

  One after another the lenders stood up. Bertha stood up. The docs stood. Lia and Ted, Abell and Ron and Devon, the twins, even little Myron stood. Fran and Nanny stood up. Alex and Trixie rose to their feet. Jessie asked to rise, and security who’d been at her back, let her and followed suit. And Rico. All of the lenders, and the team stood, along with many others who’d taken a seat on the grass to listen to Herald’s explanations. They all agreed. They were going to stay in Jewel City, and rebuild, and use tec
hnology wisely from that day forward, and retrieve the consciousness, the consciousness that had been stolen by the machines.

  Half of the town decided to go with Herald and his family. Goodbyes went round, and it was painful, but happy in the same moment—for they’d shared their hearts. Lia was brought aboard and restored physically, although it would take a few months for the regeneration procedure to complete. She nodded a teary-eyed thank you, then Abell carried her down the ramp. And Herald gave Jim the key to the city, the systems—full unlimited control. In his hand he also placed a purple sphere, whispering only: Technology, the power of science and beyond. As Jim left the ship, descending the ramp in the company of Jon and Rico, he turned one last time. He thought about running back up to hug Amy, but they’d said their goodbyes. He knew, though, that somehow, he would see her again. She acknowledged his gaze and two sets of glassy eyes shared a final moment. Then Jim looked to Herald and asked, “Herald, why is it called Jewel City?”

  “Rafael. He had fallen deeply in love with her. And deep down he knew he would have to kill her to get the signal. Jewel. Yes, she was unlicensed, but he truly loved her and it tore him apart. When he first came here with the builders and supplies, he was distraught, utterly heartbroken, so much so over the love that he eventually deleted his consciousness—forever. He was my true friend like no other and losing him pierced my soul. Always remember Rafael, for without him none of us would be here. Jewel City, hence named by him in memory of his love. Now, you go ahead, and you do what you need to do. You take this world and have faith in yourself. Goodbye, Jim. Goodbye, Jon. Goodbye to all. And good luck.”

  Travis' Rambling and Highlights

  (Because this is the 3rd edition of Lenders, I have included a few “new edits” within this perhaps, discursive gob of middle-of-the-night text I had written some time ago. Exciting ones…)

  I sit here. It’s 4 a.m.

  Can’t sleep. Chilly here at my kitchen table, very quiet. The whiskey, with a power to make grey noodles go limp, usually lasts until two or three, then it’s a draw. Today, I lost; a lot on my mind these days. But I figured I’d toss these words around, put myself out there, like Herald had decided in the club, spill it. As I type this, I’m currently editing that chapter: Club Subterranean (one of my favorites), and have went through umpteen number of drafts both laughing—my wife looks at me as if I’m crazy when I burst (remember Jon’s beer discharge blast?)—or when hiding a tear (The Decision). Again, I’d like to thank you, Lore—I love you. And all others I’ve mentioned in the beginning acknowledgments section, I’m truly humbled, thanks again for the support you’ve provided. (New edit: And thanks to all of my new Twitter friends, fellow authors, and supporters. I’m relatively new to Twitter and humbled by the amount of amazing talent there. Join me!)

  Sometimes while I’m going through the manuscript, proofreading line by tedious line, I think how it would have been easier to hire an editor. Write a draft or two and hand it off—then jump on part two, which I’m anxious to finish. (New edit: Lenders II is finished and available now!) Maybe for the next, but since this is my first brick of a novel perhaps it just has to be. I’ve learned a ton, editing it word by ever more sometimes disturbing word, pass after pass, and would not take back a thing. What an adventure! (Felix in his truck, Esperanza, blastin’ through the desert! Yeehaw!) I’ve gone from fiddling with graphics and writing code (20 years’ worth) to writing words, and my style, perhaps, well, something is emerging, and maybe it’ll be worth it. It’s funny too, English was not my favorite subject in school—by far. I was the math guy, which led me to coding (Hey, who else said that?). But now, language is code and I’ve set my programming aside, mostly. I’m fascinated more than ever—better late than never, right? The grand melting pot and mountains of words each with their own history, many an immigrant from other languages, attached to a branch on the white-lightning tree. It’s coding on steroids and I’m breathing it in as fast as I can stuff it and what pops out is anyone’s guess. (New edit: as I type this, I’m 27 chapters deep into the first draft of Lenders III, and excited!)

  I wrote Lenders in my enclosed trailer. Todd, my youngest son, was inside the house with maximum hypernova energy, as always. I needed at least an hour a day—which many times melted into two—of relative peace and quiet to funnel the weird stew from my head—so I thought, then. The first half was written in El Paso, ninety to a hundred-degree heat with a swamp cooler blowing me away from the back of the trailer. My Eighties Kenwood with twenty-year-old speakers drowned out the noise of the blower. The second half of Lenders was written after we moved to Colorado, to be closer to family for a change, in the same box, yet instead of a swamp cooler, I kept a propane heater at my side to thaw my frozen toes and digits. Outside the box was sometimes as cold as 10—that’s 10 °F, or less. And for the editing, well, I found that could be done inside the house amid the chaotic harmony of our four kids and the TV (Herald’s peeve). But, I’ve recently sold that trailer for publishing and marketing fees (new edit: that was a wasteful disaster, so self-publishing from here on out, my way, lesson learned!) and now everything is done in the house; some loud rock on the earbuds usually does the trick, and I think I’ve learned to focus better amid the sometimes, rowdiness of my kids. (New edit: God, I love ’em!)

  Lenders arrived about ten years ago, before, well before a lot of things. A thought that blossomed into some really weird and sometimes disturbing ideas, as you might’ve just finished discovering; before the social media explosion, before all the rampant daily talk about AI and what it’s gonna bring, before the myriad, and many times insulting opinions on social media—which I’ve stopped reading because it seems many listen only to respond, not actually hearing (the political belittling these days, too). So, I’ve been relatively quiet these days, it helps the focus. Plus, my detachment translates to fiction realms—and lending facilities! Whooo!

  For years I studied dreams and read about a million books regarding them. I took weird supplements and tried eccentric things such as relaxation techniques and courses and getting up in the middle of the night for a while, even dream masks and popping pills and supplements—the dream journal (Ted’s suggestion, “Linear Plans”) done that—then diving straight into the dream world from an awake state—yes, much of this nonsense stems from real-world nonsense. And Herald’s experiences with drugs…well, we better not go there. The result—lots of weirdness, lots of discovery beyond the norm, perhaps. I’d sit inside my dreams, even get bored on occasion just talking, and talking. Yep, I’d talk to DCs (dream characters) and they’d always surprise me. Like Herald, I even tried doing some coding—although unlike most fiction, it doesn’t quite work like that, the code keeps changing; look away then back again, new slates, all different and jumbled characters (hence the need for stabilization software). But the dream characters would surprise me, do things I wouldn’t have expected in a million years, rationally or not. They seemed alive and set apart from my own rationale, experiences, and consciousness. And it got me to thinking: this power, it really is something special! Here I am, inside a dream, right freakin’ now, sitting in a green grassy field with this person who is alive just like any on the outside—what if? What if I can siphon this power, the power of my mind that makes something so darn real, that animates this person right in front of me? Could it, possibly, animate something out there? And the premise was born. Lenders, they plug in and go! And the system was a little bit of a thief, swiping the remainder of…well, you put a name on it…

  As I finish putting these ramblings into my tiny laptop here—it’s now 4:30 a.m.—I take a half shot of whiskey. Maybe sleep will come in a bit.

  You know, part two of Lenders is 100k words done and I often think about getting back to it. Scares me really—some of the adventure in it. I can’t wait to share it with everyone. (New edit: The dang thing is done! And from what I hear, as my friend Mark says, it’s sweepic, sweeping and epic!)

  I hope you have enjoyed Lenders
I: The Unlicensed Consciousness, and you were able (my custom spell-correct just fixed that with Abell) to retain your lucidity. It really is just fiction and does not reflect the possible future at all—or does it? Well, I’ll leave that up to you, and everyone else on this rock whirling through space around a ball of fire. Woo hoo!

  Humbly, I accept your criticism and comments about the book. A few stars are highly welcome and if you have the time, please send a good review my way if you liked it. Also feel free to suggest ideas for part two. (New edit: part III now!)

  And, with all books you read. Please support authors by leaving a review. Your review doesn’t have to take long to type, or be anything fancy. Authors put in countless hours of work, and many times make very little from two, three, or sometimes even, ten-year projects. I’ve learned this through to the bone (Thanks, Nanny) and every book I read gets the support it deserves. So please, take the moment. Authors need your support.

  Now, thanks for reading and HAPPY DREAMS! And much gratitude from me to you, for choosing my story—and for putting up with this rambling. For more discussions and interesting tidbits about Lenders and the sequels, join me on my website, and subscribe. See: TravisBorne.com where I have relocated the “highlights” section from the initial publication of Lenders. This includes dozens of book-club questions, in-depth wonders, ideas, trivia, easter eggs, and creative-writing exercises you and your group or fan club might like to dive into!

  All the best,