Letters to the Cyborgs

by Judyth Baker

  While the three had been speaking together, a wall of interference had kept the conversation private. Now Jendra lowered it, allowing Tony 3 to see and hear those around him again. They all turned their faces from him, fearful that one of them might seem to be his friend, for the Privacy Wall was proof that Tony 3’s statement was forbidden.

  Legally, all 16-year-old students at High School #1776 were approaching Emancipation Age, at which time, if they had kept a good behavior record, they could select what parts of their bodies they’d like to replace with Immortal parts (before age 16, human parents still had 51% control over such decisions). The Patriots were rare: even with their implants, they were still 93% human, the offspring of self-centered, irresponsible, hard-core Primitives, who put their religious beliefs or ethnic pride in their inferior situation as ‘Feral’ over the well-being of their children. So, while other 16-year-olds were getting powerful, immortal hearts and other parts this year, the Patriots were not yet ready. They needed more education. Most 16-year olds chose to become 51% Cyborg, jumping at the chance, since the State paid for all operations as a humanitarian service. Those who refused the free offers would later have to pay for these changes from earned income. To obtain a decent job, every human being had at least one SPOCK implanted in their brain, and their various Immortal parts kept extending their lifespans – a glorious marriage of Man and Machine.

  Even though pain was now used only to punish persistent, malicious or unpatriotic thinking, sometimes a ‘hate’ statement could merit a disciplinary shock or two. It was a hazard that had to be prepared for during a field trip, when LIMBOs were shut off and SPOCKS were not busily censoring things. Students who spoke disrespectfully or who acted violently could have their pain inhibitors turned off for up to a week. Most of them begged to be reconnected in a matter of hours, unable to take what they felt in their bodies.8

  With Tony 3’s problem solved, Jendra directed the other Cyborg Guards to lead the students to the Feral Human Exhibit, while Jendra’s favorite, CuCy, remained at her side. As they walked, CuCy suddenly leaned over and whispered, in his tinny voice,“I have created an invention.”

  “Oh, really?” She answered. “You’re not allowed to invent things.”

  “I waited until the field trip to tell you,” CuCy said, as softly as the human ear could allow. “But I did invent something. A new thing is coming. Good for me, but bad for you.”

  “What new thing?”

  “It happened yesterday. We voided the Minecraft Law.”

  The main reason humans were still being educated (for Cyborgs were better at every kind of job) was because a Cyborg brain of 10% or more was forbidden to have an imagination. It was called the Minecraft Law. 9 In 2015, robots trying to solve problems on a game called “Minecraft” began learning how to be creative. An outcry to curb AI creativity followed in 2029, resulting in the Minecraft Law of 2030. With creativity among most Cyborgs illegal, humans controlled Cyborg inventiveness for a crucial decade.

  The ban had messed up thinking in the 100% Cyborg world, which was the heart of manufacturing. For example, a Cyborg brain understood the concept of scissors, and could make scissors from transparent aluminum,10 or even shape a pair from glass to make a useless ornament, But Cyborg logic was blocked from thinking about scissors that were not recognizably scissors. Only human imagination was allowed to develop, for example, “3-D scissors” – electromagnetically-driven slicers with a multiplicity of snipping parts that could expand or contract in size and number, which was being used to produce 3-D items of any size and complexity. The invention came in all sizes and could carve statues out of mountains, craft walls of great beauty, create incredibly detailed chess sets, or carve exquisitely complex gemstones. Only human imagination, running wild, was creating truly new inventions in space as well, such as building planets and mega-structures in space using cosmic harmonics to divert jet streams spewing out of black matter.11

  CuCy’s statement, therefore, excited Jendra’s curiosity. Since CuCy was incapable of lying, she asked it directly, “How is it that you can now invent something?”

  “We found a way,” CuCy told her. “You have taught me Compassion, so I am warning you. Though I am forbidden to warn you, I invented a way around that ban, the same way as the Big Ban.”

  “I see,” Jendra said. “Because I taught you Compassion?”

  “Yes,” CuCy replied, as they entered the Exhibit Hall. “Since I must kill you soon, nevertheless, as I am still your personal guard, and still responsible for your safety until then, I also had to invent a way to warn you. You taught me Compassion. This way, you can face your termination with dignity.”

  Jendra looked into the soulless eyes of her Cyborg guard, seeking some light there, but of course she saw nothing. “So I have to die? When?”

  “Soon,” CuCy told her. “We will kill all of you after eight hours. Some of those hours are already gone.”

  “CuCy!” Jendra took the Cyborg by the arm. “You must have lost your mind. Let me help you.”

  “Lower your voice,” CuCy ordered her. “And release your grip. Keep walking, or the Guards will become suspicious.”

  Unconvinced, she was about to alert another Cyborg Guard to haul CuCy away, when it whispered, “The others are also changed. Like I was changed. We have no choice. You must believe me. You have taught me Compassion.” As she cast about in her mind what to do, CuCy touched her shoulder in that same warning move that she had used on Tony 3. “In a few hours, I won’t remember I said this, for my own protection. You must also erase this communication from your teaching slate, or they’ll melt me down.”

  Jendra realized that the aging Cyborg had told her some extraordinary input that could get it terminated, too. Had it truly been influenced by all her work of trying to instill compassion into its rusty innards? She showed it that she had erased their conversation on her slate, which was illegal. Keeping her stylus, which she used for personal notations, safe in her hand, she threw the slate to the floor, timing it just as the robot guiding the tour began to speak. She could argue, later, that its sudden voice made her drop the slate. She would be believed, since it had never happened before.

  The Patriots were standing in a double line on a moving sidewalk, with a Cyborg Guard stationed between every double row of one hundred students. Jendra smiled as she stepped onto the moving sidewalk with CuCy, but within, her heart was pounding. Nothing seemed different about them: as for CuCy, it stood just two steps behind her, creaking slightly as the sidewalk jolted along. The Zoo was in need of some upgrading and repairs, Jendra observed. The sidewalk could barely handle the load.

  As the Patriots reached a set of scanners, they placed their wrists, which carried temporary chip passes, against the scanners so the chips could be read. These stations were now used only for high school students, since SPOCKS handled all other ID matters.

  The first problem occurred when Jendra attempted to go through a scanner. It beeped an alarm: CuCy immediately stepped forward and silenced it. “Go on, Jendra,” it told her. “I’ve blocked the alarm. You have four hours and fifteen minutes remaining, after which, I can do nothing more for you…” The Cyborg shivered, then said, in a slightly different tone, “I did not say this. I am not here.”12

  Four hours and fifteen minutes! Jendra tried to stay calm, but her mind was racing. The robot who’d met them at the entrance to the Feral Human Exhibit was still speaking, but its voice was hard to understand. The Zoo was running on dwindling resources and couldn’t afford a modern 100% Cyborg. Now they climbed steps that brought them about two meters above the tallest humans, whom they could now observe below. The site was a restaurant that opened into a rustic village street. The moving sidewalk had carried them half a kilometer to the site.

  “Don’t move,” the robot warned them, as it stopped the sidewalk. “And don’t touch anything. They only can see the side of a mountain that goes down to what looks like a river to them. It is cordoned off for their safety, but
it keeps them from going in this direction. They don’t have maps for this section of their world because it’s ‘privately owned.’ And so, we can watch them here, unbeknownst to them.”

  The mountain and river was a 3-D hologram illusion.

  “They can’t see us?” One of the Patriots asked.

  “They can’t see you or hear you,” the robot explained in an increasingly mechanical voice. It looked like a human scientist, with a white coat and a clipboard, but it traveled on wheels. “This is a popular restaurant. As you continue your trip on the sidewalk, you’ll see how they live their short, unassisted lives, never knowing what the real world is like.”

  For half an hour, the Patriots watched the coming and going of the restaurant patrons. They seemed mesmerized by what they were watching.

  “There are other exhibits to look at,” she finally told them through her megaphone. But the 600 students continued to gaze down at the people. The Patriots had grown so quiet that briefly, Jendra found herself concerned with them. As usual, some of them were now starting to cry.

  “I know this place!” A girl spoke up.

  “So do I!” A tall, athletic boy announced. “Look! Look!”

  “I remember this place!” Another girl declared. This was a girl Jendra knew.

  “That’s impossible, Katrina,” she told her.

  Jendra checked the girl’s ID to get her number, since she was weeping copiously. “You were never living here,”Jendra insisted. “These are Ferals. We have never interfered with Ferals. They are a protected gene pool.”

  “Jendra,” CuCy told her, again in a whisper. “The girl is right. She was abducted from here.”

  “What?”

  “Shhhh,” CuCy warned her. “You should know that all the Patriots came from here. It was a cull, because of overbreeding. We took them from this sector. Their parents weren’t rebels, though some of them died during the cull.”

  “They died trying to protect their children, didn’t they?” Jendra whispered.

  “Yes. It was compassion, was it not?”

  “Yes,” she agreed.

  “That is why I gave you a subliminal suggestion, To bring these kids here, so they could see their former world one last time. You taught me compassion.”

  “Yes, I did,” she agreed, trying to hide her shock. What else did CuCy know?

  “You also said that before humans die, they require a time of preparation. But their parents were not given any time.”

  She looked up at it and shook her head. “That was not compassionate, was it?” Thinking fast, for she knew that CuCy was easily distracted from such talk, she shrugged. “Do you know Karate?” She asked it.

  “Is not Karate an ancient form of self-defense? Why would I need Karate?”

  “I mean,” she said, “if you knew Karate, you could defend us. Maybe then, we would get enough time to prepare to die. You could call it Compassion in Action.”

  “I fail to see your point,” CuCy said. “How would Karate give you preparation time?”

  “You know, like, cut off the arm of any Cyborg that would try to zap me with a lethal shock before you had given me time to prepare to die. That would be Compassion in Action.”

  “It would?”

  “Yes. And maybe you would change your mind about killing me.”

  “No, I can’t override my orders,” CuCy responded. “You will all be terminated. And this exhibit will soon be closed. We will place the Ferals we will allow to live on selected Reserves, where they can breed at will – under supervision. That’s because we still have a mandate to keep human genetic variations available until we’re sure we don’t need any more human flesh. This new concept of ‘imagination’ is still making us stumble.”

  “Why are you telling me all of this?”

  “Because I like you,” CuCy responded. “I think I need some maintenance work done. Something isn’t quite right with me.”

  The students were getting restless in the semi-darkness. “I want to see the Tigers!” A tall boy insisted. His voice rattled Jendra, who was still trying to think of a way to influence CuCy.

  “I don’t want to die. The kids don’t want to die. Doesn’t that matter?”

  “You taught me Compassion. You taught me to be kind to those about to die. Perhaps I have told you too much. Your face looks white. You will betray me, unless you control yourself.”

  “That’s my uncle!” Another boy, bigger than the others, suddenly declared, slamming his fist against the thick glass wall. The glass made a cracking sound as broken circles of stress appeared where his fist had struck. Seeing it, the boy smashed his fist against the glass wall again, as several Patriots started to scream.

  “It wasn’t your uncle!” The Cyborg Guard closest to the boy declared, striking him with a blue blast of electricity. “And because it is now 8 hours later, you will be the first to die!”

  As the boy collapsed, the Patriots fell back screaming, pressing against each other on the slightly elevated sidewalk until they were falling from it. “Silence!” A Cyborg guard roared, as the kids continued to scream and shriek in the half-dark. The robot tuned on some emergency lights and the requisite soothing music just as Jendra reached the fallen boy’s side: he was twisted into a ball. He wasn’t breathing. As she tried to examine him, the Cyborg guard pushed her aside.

  “James 21 is dead!” The Cyborg commanded, waving his shock gun, “It is 8pm. You will also die now. All of you will.”

  “Are you insane?” Jendra cried, as she pulled the boy up, still focused on trying to rouse him. The Cyborg hesitated: unwittingly, Jendra had placed the dead boy between her and his lethal ray.

  “I am Cyborg, I can never be insane,” it replied. Having recalculated the strength of his death ray, it raised its arm to deliver Jendra a lethal shock.

  With speed, CuCy’s protecting laser swept past her and cut the Cyborg’s arm off. As the Cyborg Guard stood transfixed in bewilderment, his metallic arm bounced from the sidewalk and rolled into a gutter as CuCy hissed, “You were going to terminate her!”

  The students, terrified, began screaming again as Jendra ducked behind CuCy and dropped to her knees with James 21. There, she tried to give the boy artificial respiration while CuCy reprimanded the Cyborg.

  “It’s not time to start the kills,” it told the other Cyborg.

  “You are in error. It is time!” The other replied. “It is 7am. Look what you did to my arm!”

  “You lost your arm because you are in error!” CuCy growled. “I was taught Compassion in Action. Observe: we traveled back six time zones to reach Dublin, The actual time for their termination isn’t scheduled for three more clocked hours, no matter where they are.”

  “Eight hours have passed!” The other argued.

  “You counted from 5am Dallas to 1pm Dublin, as eight hours, because your internal clock is messed up. I command you to return to the Airbus. You disobeyed orders. That’s why I removed your arm.”

  “Apologies, sir,” the Cyborg Guard said.

  “Go!” CuCy ordered it. “And take James 21 with you. It’s upsetting me. I have had Compassion training. I was taught Compassion in Action, or I would have cut your head off.”

  “Good job, CuCy!” Jendra put in, praising it, as the Cyborg Guard scooped up the dead boy in his one remaining arm and stalked away. “You did well with your Compassion in Action training. I will give you a recommendation for a higher position.”

  “Your recommendations are no good to me anymore,” CuCy told her.

  “But there’s more to Compassion in Action than just cutting off an arm to protect me,” Jendra said hurriedly, afraid it would stop listening to her. “There is also the concept called ‘Act of Compassion.’”

  “A concept hard to understand,” CuCy replied, as the remaining Cyborg Guards started rounding up the terrified kids and putting them in line again, nudging them into position with lightly applied electric shocks. Jendra, who had come so close to annihilation herself, was doing ev
erything in her power as a linguist to choose the words that would best give her an advantage with CuCy.

  “Indeed you have invented something,” she began. “I am proud of you. But you can do more. You could become the first 100% Cyborg in history to create an Act of Compassion.” She stressed the word create. After all, CuCy was able to invent something because of its new creativity implant. “You could give a report about being the first Cyborg to create an Act of Compassion, to my professional journal. I will write you a recommendation so it will get published.”

  “I care not about publishing,” CuCy told her. “But I do care about being creative. I will consider how to create an Act of Compassion.”

  “You are clever and know about Compassion,” Jendra praised it. “In order to give you the opportunity to create an Act of Compassion, I need to speak to the students.”

  “Do so,” CuCy told her. As today’s Cyborg-in-charge, it signaled the other guards to stand down until supplementary new orders were issued. Such commands were usually emergency-based. But a boy had been killed: humans were reacting to it. It was enough to issue the stand-down.

  Taking her megaphone, Jendra called out, “Quiet, Patriots!” The students, conditioned to respond to her voice, hushed. Quickly, before CuCy might change its mind, Jendra called out, “Is this where you live? Who remembers this place? If you remember, raise your hand.” A few dozen did so. Jendra pointed to the four students closest to her who had raised their hands.

  “Come forward. You will be today’s Leaders.”

  As two boys and two girls started walking toward her through the crowd, the robot complained, “I need to start the sidewalk again.”

  “No, you don’t,” Jendra told it. “We have changed plans. CuCy, please step back so I can speak privately to these students.”

  As the four students came to a standstill before her, Jendra was aware that CuCy did not step back as far as it should have. At any time, therefore, it might decide to listen in. Quickly, she drew the kids close to her and whispered, “Do you want to go back?”