Letters to the Cyborgs

by Judyth Baker

  3. “People may soon be getting vaccinated for diseases like hepatitis B and cholera by simply taking a bite of banana. Researchers have successfully engineered bananas, potatoes, lettuce, carrots and tobacco to produce vaccines, but they say bananas are the ideal production and delivery vehicle. When an altered form of a virus is injected into a banana sapling, the virus’ genetic material quickly becomes a permanent part of the plant’s cells. As the plant grows, its cells produce the virus proteins – but not the infectious part of the virus. When people eat a bite of a genetically engineered banana, which is full of virus proteins, their immune systems build up antibodies to fight the disease – just like a traditional vaccine.”

  http://www.mnn.com/green-tech/research-innovations/photos/12-bizarre-examples-of-genetic-engineering/banana-vaccines#top-desktop Acquired Jan. 29, 2016

  4. “Toxoplasma Gondii Brain Parasite Infection From Cats Linked To Schizophrenia, Suicide” 07/07/2012 Huffington Post: Toxoplasma gondii is arguably the most interesting parasite on the planet. In the guts of cats, this single-celled protozoan lives and breeds, producing egg-like cells which pass with the cat’s bowel movements. These find their way into other animals that come in contact with cat crap. Once in this new host, the parasite changes and migrates, eventually settling as cysts in various tissues including the host’s brain, where the real fun begins. Toxoplasma can only continue its life cycle and end up a happy adult in a cat’s gut if it can find its way into a cat’s gut, and the fastest way to a cat’s gut, of course, is to be eaten by a cat. Incredibly, the parasite has evolved to help ensure that this occurs. For example, Toxoplasma infection alters rat behavior with surgical precision, making them lose their fear of (and even become sexually aroused by!) the smell of cats by hijacking neurochemical pathways in the rat’s brain.” It is possible that the very thought of the parasite was enough to create sexual arousal in Hubble5. – please laugh] “…rats aren’t the only animals that Toxoplasma ends up in. Around 1/3 of people on Earth carry these parasites in their heads …[In a Danish study of 45,000 women who were mothers, those with] Toxoplasma infections were 54% more likely to attempt suicide – and twice as likely to succeed. In particular, these women were more likely to attempt violent suicides (using a knife or gun, for example, instead of overdosing on pills). But even more disturbing: suicide attempt risk was positively correlated with the level of infection. Those with the highest levels of antibodies were 91% more likely to attempt suicide than uninfected women. The connection between parasite and suicide held even for women who had no history of mental illness: among them, infected women were 56% more likely to commit self-directed violence.”( Of course, males are infected as often as females: JVB) http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/07/05/toxoplasma-gondii-brain-parasite-suicide-cats_n_1651523.html Retrieved Aug. 25, 2015.

  5. The lead poisoning theory as the prime cause of Van Gogh’s insanity has been the author’s for many years: every time Van Gogh had to stop painting due to a nervous breakdown, he improved dramatically during those time periods when he was unable to paint. Despite high levels of lead in flake white and other paints, and the high levels of poisonous cadmium in many yellows, oranges and reds, only in 2015 was a law, passed in 2010, finally allowed to go into effect to place cautionary labels on artist’s paint. Many artists have been exposed to these toxic materials, along with turpentines and other flammable solvents, which are carcinogenic, and were given no warnings by their instructors at universities or elsewhere as to the dangers to their mental and physical health. Face paint used by actors, clowns and for Halloween has also been found to contain high levels of lead (most modern face paint products come from China). There are very safe ways to remove artist’s oil paint: use olive oil and liquid soap, one after the other, in clean-ups, and wear gloves. No flammables are needed. See: http://www.winsornewton.com/na/discover/resources/health-safety Retrieved Aug. 26, 2015.

  6. In 2006, NIH acquired a Spanish study that supports the author’s theory: NCBI Resources: Abstract.

  7. In an interview with the BBC, the scientist said such technology could rapidly evolve and overtake mankind, a scenario like that envisaged in the “Terminator” movies.

  “The primitive forms of artificial intelligence we already have, have proved very useful. But I think the development of full artificial intelligence could spell the end of the human race,” the professor said in an interview aired Tuesday.

  “Once humans develop artificial intelligence it would take off on its own, and re-design itself at an ever increasing rate.

  “Humans, who are limited by slow biological evolution, couldn’t compete and would be superseded,” said Hawking, who is regarded as one of the world’s most brilliant living scientists.

  Read more at: http://phys.org/news/2014-12-hawking-ai-human.html#jCp

  Re-Runs

  “With VR…[t]he experience is so compelling that maybe in months or years, it’ll be hard to choose from the real thing.” VR can “bring us into worlds that we otherwise would need airplanes or even time machines to visit.” Perhaps “…the ultimate iteration of the technology will be more augmented reality, or AR – overlaying a virtual world over the real one – than a VR goggle that keeps us blind to the outside world.”1

  – USA Today, “Virtual Reality Will Be Everywhere,” 3/27/2015

  “Hey, Maw!” Terrence shouted, holding up the postcard and waving it awkwardly in her face, “Looky here! Postcard from Melvin already!”

  “Mail’s purty fast this week,” Maw replied, examining the date over the stamp.

  She was always concerned about the dates, because mail didn’t arrive in the Outback regularly. It was one of the things pioneering families in this sector had to put up with.

  Terrence jumped from one foot to the other as Maw tried to read the postcard for herself and then pushed it down into the generous folds of her well-patched apron. “You oughtn’t go ‘round barefootin’ it all the time,” she told him. “You could step on a rusty nail and get tet’nus!”

  “Aw, Maw, lighten up,” Terrence objected. “You know there aint no tet’nus or rusty nails here. Besides, I ain’t got no proper shoes left. Have to wait for the next Transport.”

  “Well, then,” she observed, “best you watch out, anyways, ‘cause there’s another snake.”

  “It’s that damned rattler, agin,” Terrence said. “I’m getting’ sick of havin’ to cut its head off. Maybe I should just let it bite me this time.”

  “I don’t want to see you dead that quick,” Maw told him. “We need to stick together here as a family. It’s bad enough your Paw up and died on us last week. Better hand you the card now,” she said, digging into her apron pocket and bringing out the postcard again. “The way you’re going, you won’t last ‘til dinnertime. Jus’ read it to me,” she said, handing the postcard to Terrence. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll get a new V-R by the end of the week, if he can stay an extra day or two.”

  Terrence kicked the rattlesnake high into the air and let it slither away, then focused on the postcard. The message was sweet and brief, but for sure, there was a hint at some relief. Maw’s eyes glistened with tears of pride as Terrence read the message aloud.

  “To Maw and everyone!” Terrence read, proud of his literacy in this primitive place. “Working hard aboard ‘The Coconut Dream.’ First Mate this time, hurray! Helped my ship ride out a big Sim-u-lated Hurricane. But threw up. Also got a solar burn. Even so, working good enough to get a raise! Meet you in Rome, and from there, guess what? We’re going to Las Vegas! Love, Melvin.” If Terrence had hopped around with excitement before, now he was practically leaping from stone to stone on the pitiful plot that the family called its farm land.

  “Las Vegas! Las Vegas!” Terrence crowed. “At last! At last!”

  “So we won’t see him ‘til we get to Rome,” Maw commented. “Wish he could see how we fixed up the house.”

  “But Maw, that’s because they’re keeping him a couple extra days,” Terrence remin
ded her. “That’s how he’s earned enough to get us the new V-R. And it’s Las Vegas!”

  “Gawd!” Maw said, spitting out her chewing tobacco, “Wait’ll I tell the kids!”

  “We better both git back to the house,” Terrence said, looking skyward. He gave the postcard back to his mother. “There’s that storm coming again.”

  “We’re all shut down good and tight now,” Maw answered, as they hurried down the cow-path to the house. “Not like before.”

  It had taken them quite a while to get the house ready for this storm. Again and again, the storm had demolished it and they had been forced to live in the stone barn. But the last twenty or so re-runs, they’d remembered enough to scramble, remembered enough to get the house strong enough to withstand the storm. Now the house could endure any simulated storm thrown at it, and the farm, pitiful as that place could be, was also slowly developing into a productive piece of property. They had managed to raise potatoes, gooseberries, corn and chickens. These V-R products provided sensory variety to augment their regular, nearly tasteless rations. The big hope was to raise some pigs, as well, though this meant being closer friends with a nearby family whose members were rich. Maw glanced over at the bigger, nicer farm in the distance for the first time without any feeling of bitterness or envy. The Richmonds may have had a better farm V-R, and atop that, a V-R to Disneyland, but frankly, a V-R to Las Vegas was even better.

  Socially speaking, they were making real progress, thanks to Melvin. Maw felt that she could hold her head up high. She now felt she could afford to ask for a piglet for the next re-run, by Gawd. Meanwhile, seeing how the sky was darkening, and knowing how hard the storm would hit, she found herself resenting the fact that they’d been through this V-R so many times that she could remember way too much of it. They were supposed to see a few new twists to the “Little House on Prairie Dog Flats” on every re-run, but the additions turned out to be costly.

  She and Paw had made the mistake long ago of thinking they’d signed on for “Little House on the Prairie,” but they had been fooled. Instead, they were stuck with the lower grade V-R. The good version hadn’t been on sale, after all. However, they hadn’t been the only family who got fooled: the Richmonds had also been tacked into this cheaper V-R and were also just as irritated about it.

  The re-runs of “Little House on Prairie Dog Flats” were exasperating, because they weren’t as good for the children as she and Paw had wanted. They never did get a change of seasons: it was always early spring to harvest time, and they had wanted all four seasons, including an American Christmas, but it was not to be. Nevertheless, their youngest, Terrence, still needed guidance through this V-R, and she enjoyed feeling like a real parent to him, even though he was actually an orphan who had joined the family when his own parents had died for real. They had always wanted another child, but it would have forced them to live in Real Time too long.

  One year, when they were in Real Time, and Terrence was still very young, Maw (she was ‘Mother’ in RT) had asked him if he could remember any details about the loss of his real parents, since he had so many nightmares about it. She had chosen a time when Melvin and Sara had gone with their father to a Real Time sports event.

  “Well, Mother,” Terrence had replied, “all I recall is that I had a mom and dad, and we were accidentally sent to the Hiroshima V-R. Not to observe the bombing of Hiroshima, as had been described to us, upon our arrival, but instead, we were supposed to get bombed.”

  “But nobody dies for real in a V-R,” Maw had reminded him. “Perhaps you lost track of each other in the blast.”

  “I remember my parents were on the A-List. They were Activists,” Terrence told her.

  “Oh, dear!” Mother breathed out, trying to hide her alarm. “Now I understand. They may have been culled.”

  “I think so, even though ‘CHUK-E’ (Cyborg Humane Unit, Kills by Euthanasia) talked to me later and said they did a suicide, and it wasn’t my fault. But if they did a suicide, why did they get so scared? Why did they start running? Why were they crying?” Terrence looked so frightened that Mother took his little hands and kissed them. “We ran and ran,” Terrence went on. “We ran to a huge wall. Then they told me to start climbing. My feet were so small I could fit them into the cracks. I could climb. I went way up. I went over. It was a wall high as a mountain. But somehow, they couldn’t climb the wall.”

  “Is that when you lost them?” Maw asked.

  “No,” Terrence replied. “That was a little later. When they began screaming. When I saw the huge fire. I was on the other side of the wall, but I knew they were dead. Really dead, not fake dead. But, nobody believes me!”

  As Terrence began to cry, Mother had done her best to comfort him. “I’ll try to find out what went wrong,” she promised. “Sometimes, people don’t tell even their children when they get tired of all this.” She waved her hand around at the Real Time cubicle in which the family lived when off-grid. It was cramped, filled mostly with their sleep capsules and a few trinkets, as well as some play-screens, a port where they could order food, a bathroom, and storage drawers.

  “Maybe it got too much for them,” Mother tried to explain. “Over and over, we must go into V-R together, for a majority of the year. It’s the law. Maybe they got sick of it.”

  “I like our trips!” Terrence put in.

  “I don’t. They get to be so boring. We live them so often that we start remembering parts. But it’s our duty as citizens. We must take turns being awake in Real Time.”

  “But why do we have to keep going to sleep?” little Terrence asked. “I like being awake. I like the trips we take to Food Kiosks. I like walking around.”

  “You were raised by Activists,” Mother explained, as gently as she could. “Activists can be selfish. Not that your parents were that way, ”she quickly added. “They just can be.…” She patted Terrence’s little head and added, “Activists do reject the plan that allows so many of us to live on this crowded planet without any suffering. The economy can’t afford to feed all of us. But this way, when we hibernate, there is enough of everything to go around. And we have no poverty. No hunger. No wars. No homeless. The Cyborgs take perfect care of us.”

  To herself, Mother had some different thoughts. She could no longer remember her real name, for example. In the V-R scenarios, she was always Mother, or Maw, or Lady. Originally, there were endless V-Rs to choose from when hibernating; but not anymore. New ones began to cost extra: the family knew they were fortunate that Melvin had a job for two whole weeks every year. No new jobs were being created, but with any luck, Melvin would be able to work three weeks next year. Then the family could have access to at least one more new V-R.

  Melvin had the courage to do real work. The willpower it took for a human to leave the V-R worlds to endure the hardships of real work, and to be good enough to keep getting hired, was rare, and deeply appreciated by those families fortunate to have a Worker. There was literally nothing to do while awake but to eat, talk and walk around, since there was never any real news anymore. The V-Rs that were now available were fewer in number, but better, the Cyborg Government insisted. They allowed family bonds to become tighter. They knew best, Maw told herself, but some faint protest lived within her that recalled a different way to exist, long ago.

  A tiny voice seemed to whisper to her about the nearly-forgotten past:

  Most of us turned in our three least favorite V-Rs for a fancy new one, such as the one we have that places us in Imperial Rome, where – every time – we can choose the role we want to play. We ended up turning in nine obsolete V-Rs for three incredibly realistic and flexible ones. But lately, it’s gotten so costly to get new V-Rs. That depresses me. Maybe that’s why Terrence’s parents chose suicide?

  To Terrence, she had said, “They may have been injured, and that’s why they chose suicide. That’s probably why you saw CHUK-E there. I think they were going to take you along with them, at first, but at the last moment, they changed their m
inds. They wanted you to live, and showed you how to escape. And so now you’re our little boy.”

  She hoped talking about it would stop Terrence’s nightmares, but they continued.

  As the years passed, Terrence began to forget the death of his parents, but sometimes he would still have a nightmare about it and would run into her arms, crying. As he got older, the nightmares were replaced with more pleasant dreams, thanks to the Hypnotherapist the family hired, in Real Time. During Real Time, when they were not in a V-R cycle, Terrence and Mother would try to locate other members of Terrence’s family. There was also a chance that a kinsman would consider a V-R swap, or maybe they’d even give Terrence a nice V-R as an inheritance. It was worth a try.

  Though records existed proving that Terrence’s family had once gone to Hiroshima, his parents had never emerged to Real Time again. Furthermore, two remote family members had also looked into the deaths and learned that “an error” had caused his parents to be incinerated.

  Then there was the mystery of Terrence’s original father’s brother. At about the same time that Terrence’s parents had died, the uncle, rated A-Activist, was sent to the Mars Penal Colony in Real Time. The Prisoners there endured V-R punishment regularly until their ‘thought habits’ were once again conformed to society, but they did enjoy a few non-punishing V-R programs. However, these V-Rs turned out to be extremely boring and devoid of pleasure – nothing that Terence and his current family would want. Terrence’s uncle’s wife lived as a Freewoman on Mars, but it would have been too expensive to send him there, so he was put up for adoption.