Salso, looking rather dazed, offers a finger to the official who holds a small device against it.
“Carry on,” says the officer, smartly turning and following the other officer as he carries Toko and Bisto out.
Espree laughs. She explains how Salso was about to go to a bankruptcy planet, now he is captain of a Harvester.
“No Miranda Espree?”
“No Tim, if they were arrested it is because they were caught by a Harvest Inspector who happened to be watching their violation on an RV. It’s a one in a million chance, but the violation has been recorded. There is no need for a trial.
She leans back. “OK, the excitement is over Tim, let’s look at a Harvest Ship.”
We spend a few hours looking over the big mother ship. She shows me the storage areas where the bodies are placed in huge racks.
The efficiency of the operation is astounding. The balloon ships rapidly arrive and move to an empty level. From there they literally shoot the bodies into the common collection area. The bodies simply float through the tank until some kind of tractor beam takes hold of them and moves them into one of thousands of conduits exiting the tank. From there the bodies emerge into in a freezing room where they are placed on a rack. When the racks are full, the room is sealed and the bodies are super-frozen for transport.
I feel a lump in my throat when I realize that one of those bodies could be my father – or my mother―and yet to these aliens the job is no different than harvesting grapes or raising animals to be slaughtered only they are the “humans” and we are the animals.
A thought comes to me. “Espree, what about animals?
“They are only collecting humanoids on this harvest. It depends on the job. They could, for instance, only have a work order to collect animals of the genus “felis”. In that case they would simply change the composition of the gas―which contains micro-atomic particles that vibrate at a certain frequency. As a result, only animals of the cat family would be affected. If customer orders a million tigers, the gas would only affect tigers. Once they have collected up a million tigers, they would “re-activate” the remaining tigers using a gas with the opposite effect.
“Is the same true for animals Espree? Is each animal is a Spirit Trapped in a body?”
“Not all of them. You see a body does not need a spirit inhabiting it in order for it to function. A beetle, for instance, is just a biological unit and operates like a robot. The brain is no different than a microchip in some simple electronic device. The beetle is simply responding to a program―the only difference being that the creators of the gene pattern paid a fee to allow them to use the patented ‘replication’ process —which puts them into the category of “life”.
A horse on the other hand usually is usually animated by a spirit, but unfortunately the spirit is immersed in a massive body with a simplistic brain. It would be like loading software on a 20 year old computer. The simple brain of a horse would be the hardware; the Mechanical Mind is virtually identical to yours. Only a few of the computations will run effectively on a horse, and only a few simple programs―such as their ability to make their body run, acquire food and to mate. Most advance programs will not even run, and for those that do, it is like watching the ‘hourglass’ on your computer screen tumble over and over. Try to talk to a horse and their ability to grasp the concept of language is so slow that they never catch on―their hardware/software package runs the program so sluggishly that the horse would literally die of old age before the hourglass stopped tumbling and he begins to comprehend. The spirit inhabiting the horse’s body is so restricted in its perceptions by the simple brain that it gives the appearance of being rather dull, when, in actuality, it is simply suppressed by the inability of its brain to interact with the Mechanical Mind.”
She smiles. “But if you can communicate with the spirit inhabiting the horse – such as the ‘telepathy’ you sense between us―they are no different than you or I. I love communicating with animals; they don’t have as many computations running as humans and so the communication is much more pure.
“OK Professor Doolittle.”
She continues. “It does not mean the spirit attached to―say a dog―is any less capable and aware than you or I; they are just unlucky. They were injected into a dog body with very slow “thinking” hardware but good physical hardware. But Tim, this isn’t really a problem of the brain. This is way, way down the line. The actual problem is that a spirit has been totally suppress, overwhelmed and brainwashed to believe that it needs a body to be alive and a brain to think. In this state, it WILL use the Mechanical Mind to think with. The particular brain of a particular type of body will interact with the Mechanical Mind. It is the same as the various programs on your computer.
The Mechanical Mind is the motherboard that surrounds the spirit. The body is a “device” that can be added in the same way you can add a device (such as a hard drive or a video card) to your computer.
It would be the same as being completely hooked up to a computer game. You only see what the program sees, you only do what the software and hardware allows you to do, don’t you see?”
“Yes, I think so. You’re saying I am perceiving only what my mind is allowing me to perceive, right now as we speak?”
Espree hesitates. I can tell she wants to say “yes”, but instead she gives me the standard “Let’s take it a step at a time” response. I know she knows I cannot understand what she is saying because my Mechanical Mind will not let me. It would be the same as trying to convince a devout Christian that his religion was wrong—you will never get anywhere so why try.
She turns to me and looks me directly in the eyes and I know she has read my thoughts.
“I just want you to know Tim; you are one of the few beings I have ever encountered that could vaguely grasp that concept. You are truly unique.”
She turns back to the viewer.
“Let’s see what is happening back to at the Trap Ship.”
The view changes to the bridge of the ship.
“Oh my!” says Espree suddenly. “That was fast. It appears they are ready for transport. These guys may be real klutzes when it comes to placing mirrors, but they’ve got some serious skill conditioning spirits.”
She looks at the screen sadly shaking her head. “These wonderful free spirits ―souls who generate nearly 30 million volts of energy without even trying, who travel 500 million light years by the mere consideration to do so, are now trapped and degraded through the trickery of an Energy Mirror; trapped by a universe that they once looked upon as a mere speck of light―a universe they could leave in an instant if only they would stop fighting it.”
There is a short contemplative silence.
“Where are they taking them?” I ask.
“To the nearest “EHF brokers,” says Espree, “there they will be sold as a lot.”
Espree saves the RV viewer from the inside of Doyle and Turse’s’ trap ship so we may track it and follow it to its next destination―An EHF Broker.
“How far is it?”
“Probably about 150 light years.”
“But that’s im…“
Espree holds up a finger. “As I said before Tim, my challenge is not to teach you, it is to un-teach what you have been brainw…er mis-taught.”
“Go ahead Espree, say it, I’ve been brainwashed—or Mechanical Mind washed―at this point the conclusion is inevitable. Either you’ve brainwashed me or they have―and since I’ve personally observed more than one law of physics go down the drain already, I must differ to you for now.
“Just remember Tim, don’t accept what I say because I say it, accept it because you have seen it and experienced it.” She gives me a smirk, “even though I am right”.
“I’d say we have about two hours before they arrive at their destination.
She gets up and smiles. “I sense that you are hungry. Let’s go eat—anything you want, my treat.”
I struggle to my feet realizing that I
do feel hungry. Maybe a little food will help.
CHAPTER 10
As we walk across the campus to the commissary I am struck by the quietness of earth. The sound of traffic is gone and is replaced by an almost eerie silence. We grow so accustom to it, and when it is gone, there is emptiness. It is a good emptiness, a calm emptiness and yet a lonely emptiness. Planet Earth is no longer inhabited by humans and yet life moves inexorably on. The birds fly from tree to tree―as if nothing has happened here. The bugs crawl, the squirrels scamper and the bees buzz, completely unaware that life for the once dominant life form on earth, the world has come to an end. Nothing has changed in their universe. We were the aliens invading their world when we stepped on a bug, when we swatted a mosquito, when we pulled a fish from the water. Now our world has been invaded by aliens. Now we are gone and they have survived.
We enter the commissary. Some of the food has gone bad, the freezers no longer work and I see water flowing out from beneath freezer doors onto the floor. It has been only 36 hours but much of the food has begun to spoil. We select food that is still good and bring it back to our little kitchenette adjacent to Espree’s office.
After a meal I feel a little better and I think now I am willing to go on.
“We have a little time Tim, any questions?”
“OK, how about if you create something from scratch? I’d like to see that.”
“Well that depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you believe something is there despite you’re utter subservience to the universe around you.”
“Huh?”
“As you are well aware, this universe is a universe of ‘things’― a universe of matter, energy and space. Your Mechanical Mind tells you that matter and energy are senior to you, and therefore you have been robbed of your ability to create. You do not think that you cannot create anything. For example, if you want a car, you believe that you can’t just create a car. You think that you must build it from existing raw materials or buy it through some form of bartering―such as money. If there is one thing you have been taught Tim, it is that YOU cannot create a car from nothing. It violates the laws of physics and these laws, according to you Mechanical Mind, are senior to you.”
“OK,” I say smugly―because right now I feel pretty smug. “So create a car.”
“OK.” She says.
I’m holding my breath. I honestly believe that she’s going to make a car appear. After all, she can turn palm trees upside down.
“OK.” She says again.
“OK what?”
“OK, I created the car.”
“Where is it?”
“Over in the corner.” She says nodding.
I look in the direction she is indicating. “I don’t see anything.”
“I don’t expect you to see it Tim.”
“What, is it invisible?”
“Not to me.”
I’m feeling even smugger now. I’ve proved my point. You can’t just create something like a car.
“I just did!” She says emphatically.
“I don’t see any car.”
“Oh,” She says. “You want to see the car too.”
“Well, sure. How can I tell you created a car if I can’t see it?”
Espree smiles, “How utterly fascinating!”
I can see she’s being patronizingly amused, but I don’t understand why. If you create a car, it would be there and it isn’t.
“Then you want me to create a car that is there for both of us.”
“Yes, that’s what I meant.”
“That would require you to agree with my creation and also your agreement that I created it Tim. But you’ve been conditioned to believe that nothing can be created. How can you possibly see something that you know can’t be seen and can’t be created? In order for you to see it, you would also have to be able to create it yourself.”
I’m completely befuddled with this. She’s sounding like one of those whacky professors in the Philosophy department who like to double-talk for hours about whether reality was really real. I hated that crap.
“No, no, no.” says Espree, growing irritated. “You don’t understand Tim. This universe is a universe of agreement based upon the program of the Mechanical Mind. In order to create that car, I had to completely disagree with the way things are. The car that I created is there in utter violation of every law in every physics book.”
She grows more intent. “But Tim, the laws in those books are merely an explanation of the agreements that you all have been forced to agree with.
“As I said before; the problem is not teaching you how to create. The problem is un-teaching you the things you have all been taught that make you believe you can’t create.
“The only way I can create a car that you can see, is by going into agreement with you Mechanical Mind and literally building the car like anyone else would. Personally, I think that is a terribly burdensome way to go about it.”
Be that as it may, I’m not going to admit there is a car there until I see one.
“Well I don’t see a car Espree so how can I possibly believe you created one?”
She shakes her head. “Fine then, you want a ‘real’ car? You got it.”
Suddenly I hear a tremendous crashing noise! The building is literally shaking. I hear a terrible rumbling sound just outside the door. Then it stops.
Espree gives me a disdainful look and nods at the door. “Tell me if you can see that car.”
I slowly get up out of the chair, walk to the door and open it.
“Oh god, she didn’t!”
A few feet away from me is the crumpled front grill of a Lexus 720i. The car is sitting in the office across the hall. Beyond the car is a huge hole in the building. Apparently Espree brought the car through the wall.
“That’s how it works in this universe.” She says disgustedly.
“But you didn’t create that car!”
“No, I created the other one!” She says. “You said you needed to be able to see it.”
“Jeez Espree!”
She chuckles. “Unfortunately, if I’m going to make anything ‘real’ to you, I have to play by the rules the rest of you play by.
Espree notes a flashing red light on the Universal Viewer. “Looks like our boys have arrived at the EHV brokers. Shall we continue our journey?”
I take a deep breath. “OK, let’s continue.”
CHAPTER 11
Espree opens the view of the Trap Ship as it dock to a huge ship with thousands of similar Trap Ships docked around its periphery.
“Once a spirit is trapped into this universe, they will enter the game of this universe: The buying and selling commodities.
“Your next lesson is about how spirits are bought and sold. Our two bickering friends from the Trap Ship are about to sell their cargo.”
She switches to an RV in the ship and turns on the sound.
“Don’t let him talk you down this time,” says Doyle, “hold your damn position on the price.”
“You wanna do this?”
“No, we agreed that you are the dealer. I’m just saying, last time you let him talk you down―you’re the one who told me that.”
“Well, if yer not gonna do the dealin’, don’t do the criticizin’ either.”
“I’m not criticizin’, I’m just remindin!”
“I take that to mean yer’ indirectly criticizin’ my memory…”
“Gods Turse! I’m not criticizin’ anything. Do ya have to be so defensive? Do ya have to take everything I say as criticism?”
“Yeah, because that’s all you seem to be capable of doin’. First it’s the generator, now it’s the dealin’―we’re doin’ fine.”
“We’d be doin’ fine if you weren’t such a damn tight wad.”
Turse’s eye begins to glow and his ridge seems to be wagging like the tail of an angry cat. His body is a dull red. He begins walking toward a doorway, then stops and looks back at Doyle.<
br />
“Are you comin’ or are you just going to wait until I come back so you can criticize whatever price I get.”
Doyle has turned a drab green color with the yellowish streaks of anxiety. His ridge seems to undulate. He shakes his head in obvious exasperation and follows.
Espree scans and shifts to an RV in an area that looks like a meeting hall packed with a variety of creatures. Most of them look to be of the same race as Doyle and Turse. There are also some strange ‘bug-looking’ creatures, and another small group composed of individuals that look amazingly similar “wookies”. Standing at attention around the periphery of the hall I see a dozens of uniformed “Incredible Hulk’s”―apparently they are security.
Espree explains that this is the place where the EHF Collectors and the brokers meet to do business. We spot Doyle and Turse tentatively entering the area. Espree manipulates the joystick until she has the two highlighted, then she presses a button. “I’m locking on them so the viewer will follow and it will pick up the sound in their immediate vicinity, that way we can hear them among all the others.”
“Hi there Turse!” I hear someone say.
“That’s one of the brokers.” explains Espree.
“Oh god, it’s Boop.” I hear Doyle mutter—apparently under his breath.
“They work on commission so you can bet they pounce on anyone who walks in the hall.” Explains Espree, chuckling to herself, “Apparently ‘Boop’ is not someone they want to deal with.”
The broker has a green coloration and his ridge is erect. I can also see streaks of yellow indicating anxiety. Even my uneducated eye can see the fake affinity of a bad salesman.
“How’s the RV collecting going boys? Still pulling them in out there on the 34T area?”
“Yes indeed!” says Turse turning toward him, obviously trying to manifest an enthusiasm that does not match his orange-streaked coloration, “and I got a full load for you.”
“Fantastic! Let’s see the meter.”
Doyle hands him a small device that looks like a calculator.
Total Amnesia: Forgotten Lives Page 12