Human reality is quite different. Although nature has assigned the task of procreation to the heterosexual couple for millions of years, in the last centuries much has changed. Today fertilization is usually preceded by genetic improvements and is made nearly always in vitro.
Gestation takes place in an artificial womb, usually at specialized centers, and in a few cases still in the female body. As in the past, the development lasts several years, during which the new creature receives uninterrupted care, both in terms of physical support and education and psychological services.
After millennia, the traditional family based on the heterosexual couple, has lost its central role in child care. Human-android and human-virtual being couples, as well as homosexual ones perform a similar function.
However their overall contribution is quite small. The real defender of the survival of the species is the state. It couldn’t be otherwise, since most of the population doesn’t take on the responsibility of bringing up the new generations.
The state plans the birth of the individuals necessary to maintain the demographic balance and follows their development until adulthood, often by artificial means even more effective than traditional ones. As for the psychological growth based on the child-parent relationship, the utilization of androids with parental characteristics is a well-established practice as an alternative to humans. Moreover genetic engineering makes it possible to solve some limitations of youthful brains and neural chips increase memory and intelligence by connecting minds with artificial intelligence programs and data banks.
The rapid loss of importance of the traditional couple in child care, has disrupted the bonds among relatives, in particular between parents and children. Of course they still exist, but are much weaker.
On the contrary the couple by itself is not at all in crisis. The flourishing of many new kinds is an obvious demonstration.
No wonder however: the needs that in the past decreed the success of the traditional couple are deeply engraved on society and even in the genetic code. First of all the exclusive bond of affection between two individuals, so essential for any couple’s stability. A feeling that can be reproduced effectively even in an artificial partner.
Arthur Barnard, 2298, “The new species”.
HELL
His face is framed by dark curls and a pointed beard; his eyes are as black as coal. Nihil walks back and forth in the room, then sits down at a table and drums his fingers on the glass surface. Someone knocks at the door. A young woman enters with her head lowered, sets a drink on the table and goes away without making a noise.
Nihil receives a message:
WITNESSES KILLED – TRACES REMOVED.
He runs downstairs and goes out. Walking along a path lined with age-old trees, he passes by ten or so followers intent on praying aloud on a lawn. Two children come out from behind a hedge shouting with joy, whirl around him and disappear into the green. He continues along a winding path that climbs a hill.
"In a few weeks, it will be all over."
He admires his reflection in the surface of a pond. His misshapen countenance and limping gait are distant memories, problems he got rid of when entering Net. He smiles. In front of him, the perfect features of an android.
Suddenly he flies into a rage, because of his parents who hadn’t hidden their disappointment at having a child disabled from birth. Also because of his playmates who mocked him in such a cruel way that they gave him a nickname that in Latin means nothing. He has kept it, because reminding him of his old pain, would always keep alive his wish for revenge.
Growing up, he returned their spite, and to his great surprise he found that he took enormous pleasure in the pain of others. It was an irresistible temptation, which progressively led him to extend his outrages to the innocent as well. At the same time his desire for power grew out of all proportion. He used to spend all night dreaming about dominating people.
He had to satisfy his obsession. He needed allies, but he knew that with his hostile and vindictive behavior, he would make life impossible for himself. To achieve his objective, he had to learn the techniques to dominate impulses and subdue minds.
This opportunity turned up at last, when he met the head of a little community: an elderly man with a lot of charisma. He gained his confidence, pretending to be a person of sound principles and promoting several philanthropic initiatives. Soon he became his trusted man, and studying the old man’s behavior, he learnt to be as skilful as him. After the man’s death, Nihil took over the guidance of the community.
He raises his head towards the top of the hill.
"At that moment I started my plan."
They entered Net through a collective suicide. It wasn’t an easy life, because they had to live in anonymity, but a bearable one, since the virtual world was subject only to scanty controls. A few years later however, repression became so harsh that the community risked being decimated. Only he and a few others escaped capture.
To carry out his project, he needed his companions' unconditional cooperation. He knew he was running a risk, but there was no choice. Therefore he revealed his plan, pointing out the noblest aspects and carefully hiding the ultimate purpose. The followers agreed with enthusiasm and started working promptly towards its realization. However, Security repression was getting so violent, it endangered even the survival of the small and determined community. They needed innovative technologies, but they didn’t know how to get and still less develop them. Fortunately he met Eve Dirac. She created such revolutionary software, which rendered Security harmless for all practical purposes.
He shakes his head. "Then the difficulties began.”
First the followers challenged some of his decisions. When he imposed his will, they accused him of being intolerant. Opposition grew quickly and during a heated discussion, they forced him to accept the creation of the Council. Eve assumed its chairmanship. Apparently, Nihil absorbed the blow well, but actually he felt betrayed.
He picks up a stone and throws it far away. "There was nothing left than revenge."
He turns back, he has already gone a long way. Now the followers are nothing but dots on the lawn. This is his new community, created in the real world to avoid any interference, destined to replace the Elects. He starts climbing again and in a few minutes reaches the top. His hands on his hips, he admires the villa at the bottom.
Unfortunately it was not possible to abandon the Elects all of a sudden. He needed them to carry out his project. So, for a few months, he skillfully hid his anger, obtaining all their availability, exploiting all their knowledge. Then, at the right moment, he disappeared. His work was perfect in all details, obviously.
On the way back, while he is close by the lawn again, he sees his assistant appearing round the corner. “We have caught a novice in your room!”
They quicken their steps. At last at home, they run upstairs, into the meeting room. The young man is in the middle, with a frightened face, surrounded by five followers. Nihil points at two of them, the most trustworthy ones. “You stay here. The others must leave.”
When the door closes, he looks daggers at the novice. “What were you doing? If you don’t tell me all the truth, you will regret it.”
The other keeps silent. Nihil addresses his assistant: “Go and get today’s recordings.”
The follower returns after a few minutes with a projector, that he puts on the table. He starts it playing. The man is seen entering Nihil’s room, rummaging in his drawers... He is really a spy!
“Hold him tightly!” cries the Head of the Elects while going behind him.
He seizes the novice’s arm and wrings it behind the back. Then, with a single blow, Nihil rotates it upward. The novice screams, bends sideways. His keepers work hard to straighten him.
Nihil goes to the window and stares outside. The sky is clear, but sudden gusts cut into the thin jet of the fountain in the middle of the square. He turns. “Fetch me the traitor's possessions.”
&nbs
p; His assistant goes out and when a few minutes later he comes back, he has a sack under his harm. Nihil scatters the contents onto the table, searches frenetically.
“A micro memory!” He unloads the e-mails and cross checks the addresses against the Elects’ ones. The name of a councilor appears in his visual field. Purple in the face, he turns towards the followers. “I’ll be back soon.”
He goes downstairs and outside, slamming the door. He rushes into a path. A child runs up to him, but he pushes him away.
Excited shouts. Three mothers are gathering up their children scattered over the lawn. A little red hat flies away, pushed by a blast of wind. From the mountains, a boiling front of black clouds is approaching fast.
Nihil stops between two hedges. "The novice works for the councilor. Maybe he has transmitted some information… I will get rid of both!"
He contacts a killer, provides him with the councilor’s personal details and agrees the price. Then he entrusts a company of the Cayman Islands with making a bank transfer. Everything in a few minutes.
"Now I must do the novice in."
He steps into the room. The youth is lying stark naked, surrounded by his torturers. White as a grub.
“Have you succeeded in forcing his neural chip open?”
“He withstood even torture.”
“Make him kneel.”
They seize the spy by the arms.
“This is the last time I will ask you,” says Nihil staring at the bruises on his face. “Who has sent you?”
But the other keeps silent. Then he gets near with a mocking smile. “It doesn’t matter… I already know him.”
The young man’s eyes become moist with tears. The Head of the Elects places himself behind him. He caresses his neck, takes the novice’s head gently between his hands. He stands still for a second. Then he tightens the grip. The head smashes like a ripe melon.
Nihil addresses his followers: “Burn him and don’t speak about it to anyone if you don’t want to come to the same end!”
He runs down the stairs. Large drops are pounding the windows of the landing. From the gutters, a deafening roar.
He flings open a glass door, and enters a hall adorned with garlands. Busy people. Smiling faces.
“How are preparations going?”
CAYMAN ISLANDS
Two o’clock in the afternoon. A dazzling brightness floods the streets, the downtown skyscrapers and the small villas of the suburbs. There isn’t a soul to be seen. But inside, in the chill of the artificial habitats, thousands of people are working. The most enormous fortunes in the solar system are concentrated in their hands and the power they hold is as immense as the wealth they manage.
However, the future of the Alpha Centauri project does not pass through these luxurious places. In a shabby old building on the outskirts, inside a room lit up by the shafts of light filtering through the shutters, a tiny company that almost no one knows has its offices: Exotic Foods. A ceiling fan turns slowly, but the air is too hot to bring relief to the two employees, who gasp in silence taking care to move as little as possible.
The man, a white-haired giant, is sunk in an armchair behind his desk and is bolting a soya hamburger. Nearby, a pretty Creole, intent on checking her make-up in a magnifying mirror, is perched on a stool. Her face, an oval with delicate features, is surmounted by a mass of curly hair falling to her shoulders. She wears a partially unbuttoned blouse showing her buxom breasts and a full skirt folded just enough to display her slim sinewy legs due to a childhood spent in the open air.
After lunch, the man takes a little rest. He leans back in the chair, half-closes his eyes and peeps at the girl's curves. He certainly didn’t lack adventures in his youth. His impressive figure, thick head of hair and athletic build attracted women like bees to honey. He glances at his wrinkled hands. At the thought that many of his contemporaries still have the enviable body of a man in his thirties, he seethes with anger.
The new techniques of genetic improvement were never applied to the cells destined to generate him, not because of his parents too poor to support the cost, but because of a cruel joke of destiny. The day after his conception, the state made the treatment compulsory, taking all the expenses upon itself. He was the last not to benefit.
He laces his fingers behind his head.
"However my childhood was calm."
He grew up in a large family and from when he was a small child, he was struck by his parents’ efforts to ensure a decent life for their children. He saw his father leave for the fields at dawn and come back completely whacked at the end of the day. His mother divided herself between domestic duties and a myriad of small activities. Being a smart keen child, he made his contribution to the family budget devoting himself to the humblest work with great care. Then, at the end of each week, he presented himself very proudly to his parents to hand over his wretched earnings. Although he put a lot of effort into this activity, he was constantly progressing in his studies. He took a diploma with good marks and when he won a scholarship, he was over the moon.
For many years he has managed one of the many companies that thrive in the country thanks to the facilities that law assures to non-residents. A small business that covers the much more important activity of receiving money from strangers and transferring it to unknown payees. At the beginning he tormented himself with the thought that this money could feed illicit trades and imagined the day police would raid his office. But none of his worries has ever become a reality.
He doesn’t still know the identity of the owner, hiding himself behind companies and dummies, but he doesn’t want to learn it either. His employer attaches great importance to anonymity, at least because he has always avoided being seen. Therefore the old man restricts himself to carrying out promptly and accurately the tasks he is entrusted with from time to time, fully aware his behavior is much appreciated. The almost total lack of inspections and the substantial bonus he receives at every year-end are clear proof.
He looks around: chipped pieces of furniture, obsolete equipment. A very different place from the one he dreamt of several years before, when after university he was looking forward to conquering the world.
"At least my life is quiet."
He gazes again at Anita, so attractive in her flowered dress.
The woman has gone back to her desk. “We have to send another money transfer, the third in a week!” She turns towards the man. “Who knows what is going on…”
“You are paid to work,” he replies, “not to waste time in matters you are not concerned with.”
Shortly later a friend of his contacts him: “I received a sum that has been credited to your account.”
A common practice when the origin must remain unknown.
“I must see you,” continues the interlocutor dropping his voice. “It’s urgent!”
“Usual place, in half an hour.”
He puts on a wide-brimmed hat and adds his dark glasses, takes his walking stick and limping plunges into the scorching heat. Panting, he passes a block of houses, while his forehead is beading with sweat, and enters an English-style pub. His friend is in a corner, intent on sipping an iced beer. The old man sits down just opposite.
The young man indicates to the waiter to bring a beer mug for his guest.
He is a brown-haired man with a smooth skin and a lively glance. They are about the same age, but differently from him, he benefited from the genetic improvement before law made it compulsory, because he belonged to a well-off family. They had met more than eighty years before, during university, and immediately made friends with each other. The old man liked that vagabond and daredevil companion who was his exact opposite. Instead the other looked for him, because he was as attentive and modern as an older brother. Together, they had lived memorable adventures, that they remember from time to time with real amusement.
The man’s father succeeded in making his son complete the studies thanks to generous donations dispensed to the faculty and aft
erwards employed him in his office. A few years later the young man got married and under the pressure of his family, passed the examinations to become a trustee, one of the highly valued persons for the economy of the Cayman Islands, whom the foreigners entrust with their savings.
“Yesterday an inspector rushed into my office together with two agents with marked foreign accents,” he whispers. “They inspected my account books, the bank statements and the archives. When I refused to answer their questions, they threatened me with taking my license away.”
He leans forward. “They found your money transfer!”
The old man remains impassive. Whatever happens, he doesn’t run any risk. He can prove his good faith and even if everything goes wrong, he would avoid prison because of his old age. “Did you get mixed up in a shady business?”
“I didn’t.”
“So don’t worry. The Law protects us.”
The other assumes a grateful expression: the old man is always reassuring and willing to help him even in the most difficult moments. He calls the waiter: “Two more beers.” Then he continues: “Soon I will be father!”
“Congratulations!”
“Yesterday I was at the hospital with my wife. Our baby is growing well and he will get out of the artificial uterus in three months. He has been subjected to the most advanced genetic improvements. His treatment has been quite expensive but our doctor told us we couldn’t have made a better choice. He will be much more beautiful and intelligent than us.”
The old man listens in silence. He is a wreck in comparison with his friend, but in not many years also this young father, looking at his son, will have the same sensation of inadequacy. Surely it isn’t worth poisoning one’s existence envying others. Better to accept whatever fate brings, consoling himself with the positive moments life can offer.
“Are you worried?”
Dreaming Immortality Page 9