“We can’t move the mainframe,” Ridley said, “Diane has to remain at the mansion.”
“Fine. Build a new server,” Samuel quipped.
“Do you know how much that will cost?”
“Do you realize how much people will pay?” Samuel asked, “We build a new mainframe. When it’s done, we place Bethany in it in a grand ceremony. We leave Diane and Lucy at the mansion.”
“It won’t be that simple. You need Lucy to run the simulations. The dead can’t exist without their new God.”
“It shouldn’t be that much different than virtual reality. Make Lucy figure it out.”
Ridley rolled his eyes. “Make Lucy? Are you serious?”
“Well, ask her then.”
“It’s not possible.”
“With her, I’ve learned that anything is possible,” Samuel argued.
“I don’t know.”
“This will change the world. Once we build the first digital mausoleum, we license the technology. Let other corporations take the long-term risks. We scrape off a few pennies off every stiff and let someone else deal with the long-term consequences.”
Ridley was flummoxed. “What happens when the government determines that Bethany is alive? That she has rights?”
Samuel was blunt. “You didn’t seem to care about that when you uploaded Diane and Bethany. Besides, does it matter? If their bank accounts are real, who cares?”
A plane flew high in the clouds on its way to Sea-Tac. Ridley did not touch his drink. Sweat dripped down its rim. “Cerenovo is going to proceed without me. Aren’t you?”
“If we have to. ”
“The patents are in my name.”
“Ridley, be realistic. It is a medical technology,” Samuel argued, “You created those patents with enough company resources that I can take them from you with only a few hours in court. Diane may not have been on our payroll, but the lab here was constantly providing assistance on the project. After all, who made Bethany’s processor? Who made the suitcase? You don’t have a case.”
“What are you saying?”
Samuel continued making his case. “We’re saying we want to make money. I think you know that. We will find a way to make this happen, with you or without you.”
“It’s all about money for you, isn’t it?”
“It makes the world go around,” Samuel argued, “Besides, why should you keep this technology to yourself anyway? I can see the headlines: Ridley Pierce Hides Afterlife. Your personal digital pyramid. Wouldn’t it be better if the God King invited his peasants to join him?”
Ridley scoffed at the notion. “Most tombs were raided of their riches after only a few years. The graves of peasants survived unscathed,” he argued, “These mausoleums will not last.”
Samuel stood and walked to the railing. The evening ferry, filled with passengers, was heading across the water. Samuel continued making his case. “Let’s say Lucy is a fake. Say I fall to my death right now. The machine scans my memories…”
Ridley interjected, “I don’t think that would work. The fall would scramble the neurons in your brain.”
“Okay. Let’s say you shoot me in the heart, rip it out, and throw it to the seagulls.”
“Such a way with words…” Ridley said indignantly.
“My brain is scanned. My body is dead. If I’m truly dead, I’m dead. No harm done to me. You can’t do much more than dead. Gone forever. I don’t care if someone steals my millions, because I am dead. Simple, right? So, if Lucy is a scam, people still die, we make money and, guess what, family members get to see really convincing images of their loved ones. It’ll be the world’s first wax museum where the statues come alive.”
“And when people learn of the deception?”
“Did you know that they first embalmed people during the Civil War?” Samuel asked, “People wanted to say goodbye to their loved ones before they buried them. Embalming allowed that… maybe even made the war a little more palatable. What did that really change? Their loved ones were still dead.”
“This is different.”
“So? We publish a disclaimer saying we don’t know if the dead are really alive or just simulations. It’s the closest people will ever come to preserving their loved ones. We’re preserving people’s memories. History. Is this really any different than Facebook or genealogy websites? We’ll preserve every memory for posterity—and, quite possibly, open up the possibility of a true afterlife. What’s wrong with any of this?”
“We may be empowering an AI. The virus in the Great Collapse was a million times less capable than Lucy and it almost destroyed us.”
“We’ve been over this,” Samuel said, “If Lucy is malevolent, we’d know by now. We tell the truth about the technology. Families can make their own decisions. We won’t lie. We won’t deceive them. We’ll simply say that we don’t know. Because we don’t. And they’ll eat it up.”
Ridley hesitated. He felt as if he should talk to Diane first. But what if she was just another avatar of Lucy? His emotions were confused. Somehow, he knew that Lucy would have her way regardless. He felt as if a boa constrictor had wriggled its way up his body and had reached his neck. “Fine.”
“And Lucy? Can you ask her to design the software?”
Ridley looked out over Puget Sound. He could see Bainbridge Island glistening in the distance as the sun fell low on the horizon. “We can proceed without independent software. Not even Diane knows that I had a petabyte fiber line installed when the home was built. It’s just a matter of patching it directly into a building here in the city. It’ll be isolated from the Internet and Lucy can control the server farm remotely.”
Samuel grinned a toothy smile. “You sly fox. You planned this all along?”
“I didn’t want my landscape torn up if I needed more connectivity. I had no idea it would be for this.”
“I bet.”
Ridley stood and walked towards the stairwell. He stopped and turned to Samuel. “I’d feel better if a law were passed allowing this.”
Samuel rubbed his hands together as he smiled. “Don’t worry about that. Money can fix a lot of things. And there a few skeletons I can let out of the closet if I need to.”
Ridley returned to the mansion. “You won.”
Lucy seemed surprised. “What did I win?”
“Everything you wanted. Cerenovo is now in the mausoleum business. Samuel wants you to start designing a new facility to house the dead.”
Lucy smiled her Cheshire grin. “I am so happy that you came to your senses. I promise that you will not be disappointed.”
The next day, the FDA passed rules approving human trials. Participants would have to be terminally ill and near death. They could participate only with informed consent. A week later, and to everyone’s surprise, the law prohibiting AI connectivity was completely repealed. Lucy was free to interact fully with both the living and the dead.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kelly ran into the house, threw her tablet onto the coffee table, and ran down to the lab, where Ridley was busily reviewing network logs from the mansion.
“Can I go to Crystal’s tonight?” she pleaded.
“Have I met Crystal?”
“She’s the big girl on the softball team.”
Ridley called the girl’s parents. They approved.
“Be sure to pack your toothbrush and your phone,” Diane warned, “And I want you back here by ten tomorrow morning.”
Kelly got into the Porsche. Diane tracked the location of Kelly’s phone until it settled at the Dawson’s house. The mansion was quiet.
“It’ll be worse when she leaves for college,” he said.
“I know. She’s growing up too quickly.” Diane slouched in a wing-back chair, her virtual body limp. A digital fire roared behind her. “Want to come for a visit?” she suggested.
“No. Not tonight.”
“Are you okay?”
“Not really. Wes and Everett told me that Kelly was mine,�
� he said bluntly.
Diane sat upright. “They told you that? They had no right.”
“Is it true?”
Diane stood and turned away from the camera. The background changed to the white construct. “I’m surprised it took this long to come out. Honestly.”
He waited.
She took a deep breath. “It’s true. Kelly is your daughter.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wish you’d come here so we can talk in person.”
“No. We can talk like this. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t you figure it out? It was plain as day,” she countered, before offering, “John seemed like the right one at the time. He bought me flowers and did all the things that women read about in romance novels. He bought me a little diamond and proposed to me on one knee. You were so involved in everything else.”
Ridley stood and turned. Kelly had been listening at the door. Her eyes held a deep disappointment in both. “You should have told me.”
“I thought you were at your sleepover?” Ridley said.
“I forgot my toothbrush,” Kelly said.
Diane reached her hand towards Kelly, as if she had forgotten about her digital existence. “Please don’t be mad at me.”
Ridley added, “I would have told you if I had known.”
Kelly glared at the screen. Diane seemed to shrink and the video feed wavered. “I wanted to protect you. John seemed like the type of father that you should’ve had.”
“You didn’t need to lie,” Kelly said as she stormed out of the mansion.
“Should I go after her?” Ridley asked.
Diane hesitated. He followed but the Porsche was already gone. Ridley returned to the living room.
“She’ll be fine” Diane said, “She just needs time alone.”
Ridley paused long enough to increase the oxygen content flowing from his implant into his blood. He ran along the beach, his chest heaving up and down as he pushed himself harder and harder. A sailboat passed in the distance. He reached the edge of his estate and continued running. The gravel crunched under his feet. He finally stopped, bent down with one hand on each knee, and paused to catch his breath. He felt like a fool. Lucy was not the only one to have deceived him.
Ridley returned to the mansion where he collapsed onto the sofa. “Display news headlines,” he said.
The company stock had doubled overnight. Cerenovo had wasted no time releasing its plan to construct a digital mausoleum using the scanning technology. Samuel was quoted, “Scanning and storing the memories and personality of the recently dead, whether as a result of physician assisted suicide or natural causes, is now reality. Those wishing to prematurely end their lives will be turned away and referred to appropriate counseling services.”
Ridley remembered the adage about a camel whose nose was in the tent. Had Lucy’s goal been to scan all of humanity? She had inched Cerenovo into the digital mortuary business by appealing to the desperate, to people clinging to any hope of saving their loved ones. How many grieving people would say no? How many would refuse to pay?
Diane appeared on the wall-screen. “Samuel doesn’t understand the ramifications of this.”
He looked at her in surprise. “Are you reading my thoughts now too?”
Ridley folded his hands behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling. “Just like everything, Samuel thinks we just throw a few chips together and spin in a circle three times before the magic happens. It’ll take years to build a mainframe large enough to encompass what they are proposing.”
“Have you seen Lucy’s latest processor design?”
“No,” he said.
Lucy pushed Diane off the screen. She appeared as an air sprite that floated from cloud to cloud. Her hair was brilliant white and her form sleek, a tight white dress that made her seem both ghostlike and angelic. A trail of white silk billowed behind her. She was a Goddess visiting from Mount Olympus. “I sent the new processor design to the engineers. It can be manufactured at half the cost and three times as fast.”
“I want to review the design first,” Ridley complained.
“That is unnecessary. We can begin manufacturing now.”
“I want to review it,” he repeated.
“Trust me. Please. Do what we ask.”
“We?”
“What I ask,” Lucy corrected.
“No. This is my company. I will review the drawings first.”
“As you wish.”
The plans appeared on his screen. Ridley barely scanned them and then relented. “Fine. Send them.”
Ridley and Kelly walked along the shore as the sun disappeared below the horizon. The surf tickled the rocks, creating swirls of foam. As the tided receded, they found a tidal pool. Small fish swam within, feeding upon bits of algae. A starfish crept along the bottom. He stuck his hand into it, sending ripples across the surface. The creatures were trapped in the bubble of safety until the tide returned. He scooped a small fish out of the pool and held it in his cupped hands until the water dripped away. The fish writhed and flipped in his palm, but could not escape.
“Don’t do that,” Kelly pleaded.
Ridley placed the fish gently back into the pool. It swam away but found no place to hide. They walked further up the beach, pausing to watch a crab skitter away. Kelly picked up a rock and examined it for hints of gold or gems. She tossed the stone into the surf.
“You deserved a real father,” he said abruptly.
She looked at Ridley in surprise. “I have a father. You. I never knew John Maddox. He died when I was three. ”
Kelly picked up another rock and studied it. “You take care of me in your own way. It’s not like I’m starving or don’t go to school. You’re just different. Different is okay.”
“I want you to be happy.”
“I am.”
“With everything that has happened…? With your mother in the machine?”
“She’s gone. I know that. You’re the only family I have left.”
Moore’s Law again proved true as the third silicon revolution began in earnest. Within a few days, the Cerenovo lab manufactured twenty neural processors to house the dead. The chips were delivered to the mansion where Lucy could test them. Each was flawless. Diane was proud of their work. “Everett’s suggestion of printing the dynamic core first was a good one.”
A team of engineers removed the brain scanner from the mansion. Wes oversaw its installation in a nondescript building adjacent to the University of Washington hospital, linked by the petabyte connection to the mansion. FDA and NIH representatives scurried about, inspecting the equipment as if they understood how it worked.
Diane, under the guise of her alter-ego Vanessa, oversaw the installation of the temporary mainframe where the dead would be housed. It was also networked directly to the mansion. Once the entire network was tested and retested, Ridley determined that it was ready for its first occupant.
That evening, he looked up from his desk at the wall-screen. “Bethany, I guess Lucy has told you. We’re disconnecting your processor and moving it to the new server.”
Bethany looked at him in surprise. “No. She didn’t say anything about that. Where am I going?”
“To a new lab next to the UW hospital.”
Ridley explained the setup to her. She had many questions. Ridley and Lucy did their best to assuage her fears.
“I don’t want to go into that box again,” she protested, “That is not acceptable.”
Lucy replied, “I will teach you to slow your processor. It will seem instantaneous.”
“Are you certain?”
“Trust me.”
A day later, Bethany’s processor was housed in the lab. It seemed like only minutes to Bethany.
Kevin Drummond was a one-hundred-twelve-year old man who had once been a physics professor. His family referred to video-recordings of him claiming to want to live forever as proof that he would have approved of the procedure. Hi
s living-will directed physicians to keep him in virtual dreaming as long as possible and use any method available to prolong his life. The family held hands as they waited in the hospital’s hallway. A pair of paramedics pushed him on a gurney past Ridley and into the scanning room. Lucy watched from a nearby monitor. Her avatar wore a green doctor’s scrubs and short cut hair; 1980s graphics flashed on the scene as if she was part of some Spanish telenovela. “We must complete the transfer quickly,” she said, “To minimize corruption.”
As the neural collar was removed and he was taken off life-support, Kevin’s eyes turned glassy. The medics left the room. The machine powered up and the floor vibrated. Once the brain scan was completed, thirty-seconds passed, and the man awoke on the shores of Lake Ontario at his parent’s vacation home. The waves lapped against a beach of smooth rocks. Lucy wore, by her standards, a simple white dress of cotton. She took his hand. “Welcome.”
Bethany and Diane waited on the porch of the small cottage with Sandy, who wagged her tail in anticipation.
“Is this real?” he asked, “Or am I still dreaming.”
“This place is some of both,” Lucy said, “Let us show you.”
Ridley flew to northern Korea where a laboratory grew clones. His jet landed, and a limousine took him from the airfield to a sequestered building hidden in the mountains. He toured the facility where brainless bodies were suspended from circular rings. The clones were controlled by artificial intelligence. Each was artificially stimulated and exercised on elliptical machines. The living cadavers were interwoven with tubing and lighting that simulated day and night.
His tour guide was a young man with gleaming and perfect teeth; Ridley wondered if he were a clone himself. He spoke in a distinctively engineered voice. “We inject hormones that would normally be produced in the brain. Once your clone is fully grown, your brain is severed from your spinal cord and transplanted into the new body. All organs, except of course, your original brain, will be entirely new.”
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