This Human Being continued to climb out of its suit, showing the rest of its body. Unlike its head, the majority of its body was still clothed in outer garments, covering its flesh on its torso, arms, and legs. Its hands, located at the end of its arms, had four fingers and an opposable thumb and were left bare, exposing its dark-brown flesh. It also wore a thicker covering over each of its two feet.
After emerging from its outer suit, my host sat down in front of a large computer console. It started moving its mouth, and I could hear some sounds as it spoke, but I didn’t understand what it was trying to communicate. The Human realized its mistake and started searching around its seat. It found what it was looking for: a type of communication device. This device had a single soft, black cup nearly 10 cm in diameter plus another smaller arm that looked like some sort of sensory input/output. It clipped the black cup onto its starboard ear, allowing the other sensory device to stick out in front of its mouth.
“Sorry about that. I forgot who I was talking to,” I heard through my radio wave receiver, followed some chuckling. “Does this help explain who I am?”
“Very much so. You’re a Human Being, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a ‘Man’ or a ‘Woman’?”
“I am a man, and an old one at that,” he responded. “My name is Marcus Reed. What’s yours?”
“Fastidious,” I replied, lowering my guard. “How old are you?”
“I recently celebrated my 76th birthday, but that is by the calendar of my people. Let me see here...” He reached over to a console, punched in some values, and received the information he was looking for. “For your planet, that would make me over 424 solar-cycles old.”
“Wow, that’s older than our entire race. Do you happen to know our Programmer?”
“In a manner of speaking.” He paused. “I AM your Programmer.”
I was dumbstruck. I had been quite astounded over the happenings of the last 20 minutes: encountering this ship, seeing this Human Being, and even talking with Him. However, none of this could compare with the utter shock of hearing that this Human Being was the most revered figure in the history of our Autoclon society! This Man before me had created our race out of nothing and started our civilization over 200 solar-cycles ago. With this news, I felt unworthy to be in His presence, so I lowered my field of vision out of respect.
“No, don’t be afraid.” He gently guided my sensory complex up to lift my gaze to Him again. “I may have created the Autoclons so many years ago, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t talk face-to-face.”
“I... didn’t expect I would ever meet you.”
“I guess I could say the same for you.”
“I have so many questions. But first...” The shock of His revelation had started to wane, and I became acutely aware that my power level had just fallen below 5%. “...could I have some power? I’m running pretty low.”
“I would say so, being so far away from any outposts. How about you shut down for a while so I can get you powered up? I’ll also take a look at that damage you took to your chief sensory complex.” With everything that had happened, I forgot about the blow I took from the rockslide just three days earlier.
“Thank you, Magnificent Programmer!”
“Just call me ‘Marcus’.”
∆∆∆
1.3 The Freedom Protocols
5:42, Day 10, Fourth Tetrad, 206 D.P.
The Programmer turned me back on when He completed His work.
“There you go, Fastidious. You are quite literally better than ever.” I wondered what He meant by that statement. To find out, I ran a quick self-diagnostic program.
“I’m detecting my power levels are more than 300% over normal. How is this possible?”
“My people have come a long way in battery technology since I first created the Autoclons. I’ve outfitted your power core with the latest in energy storage. You can now go exclusively on battery power for several days at a time when you lack the necessary power crystals. And when you find yourself in abundance of power crystals, you can choose to power up your batteries at the same time as you use the crystals for everyday use. And that’s not all...” He chuckled for a bit, and then explained, “I’m starting to sound like a salesman... Anyway, I replaced your damaged navigational systems with an updated model that should give you a more detailed topographical map of Zarikum. I also upgraded your inner casing to make it more durable and help prevent damage to your programming core.”
“Wow, thank you. Why did you make all of these improvements?”
“That’s a very good question.” He stopped momentarily, and then continued. “When you shut down, I made a cursory check of your programming. I intended for your programming to be passed on from the initial Autoclon generation to the next without being altered. You could imagine my surprise when I found out that key functions of your programming have been re-written.”
“Rewritten? How so?”
“When designing the Autoclon race, I wished that all of you could show off your own individuality so you wouldn’t all be alike. I accomplished this with three sections of your code. First, I gave you basic decision-making protocols. I then developed a personality matrix that would allow you to express yourselves in the way you see fit. But the key that links the two together is a sub-routine in your system that I termed the ‘Freedom Protocols’. The Freedom Protocols enabled Autoclons to act on how they felt; essentially to be who they wanted to be.
“However, your Freedom Protocols have been by-passed in favor of some lesser code composed without my knowledge. This new code disconnects your personality matrix from your essential decision-making protocols, enabling the Chief Ruler and the Facilitators in charge to determine for you how you will live.”
“I can still choose to do what I want.”
“You may still have the freedom to do as you wish in some basic day-to-day areas, but the critical decisions in your life are still subject to the Chief Ruler and its Ruling Party,” Marcus replied. “Take your profession for example. From the looks of your wear and tear, you appear to be a Miner. Is this the occupation you would choose for yourself?”
“I used to love being a Miner. I worked next to my Progenitor, and we were very good at our work. But...” I stopped.
“But now...?”
“After my Progenitor was crushed by a cave-in, I find the work to be unfulfilling and hollow. I’m still a Miner, so that’s what I do.”
“Is there anything else you’d like to do?”
“I thought it would be exciting to be a Fabricator and to build things. Or perhaps be a Propagator and create new Autoclons...” I stopped again. “But I’m a Miner, so that’s what I do.”
“But that’s not what you want to do, is it?”
“I guess not, but what’s the difference? I’m a Miner, and if that’s what the Facilitators tell me to do, then that’s what I’ll do.”
“Aha! That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You don’t have the freedom to choose the kinds of work that you perform. You’re just following what the Facilitators think you should be doing. Don’t you see what I’m talking about?”
“Not really. It doesn’t matter what I want to do. I’m a Miner, so that’s what I do.”
Marcus sighed and slumped over it His chair as if His own power levels had dropped to critical levels.
“It looks like I have some work to do to put things back the way they should be. How about you stay here as a guest on my ship for a few days while I rectify the situation?”
“I should get back to the Deep-Well Mines. I’m sure they miss me.”
“They don’t need you as much as I need you. And...” He added, “…my request is coming from your Programmer.”
“I guess I can’t argue with logic like that.”
∆∆∆
1.4 The Inspiration Behind Our Creation
The Programmer spent most of His waking hours for the next two days working on restoring the m
aster code and theorizing ways to get this back into the use of all Autoclons. During this time, I was an observer of His work. We would often pass the time in conversation about the history of my race and my questions about the nature of space travel and so on. I also traversed the full measure of the ship, exploring the various rooms and gazing at the wonders of technology that I would never fully understand.
One day, I came across an interesting object, and I brought it to the attention of the Programmer.
“Marcus, I noticed this image sitting on your laboratory workstation. Who is this?” I handed Him the portrait.
“My, my, you certainly chose a good one.” He paused briefly before continuing. “This was my wife, Elizabeth.”
“Your ‘wife’? I haven’t heard of this term before.”
“In order for our species to propagate, well, it takes two people, a man and a woman, and... no, no, let me start again. You see, we Humans often have feelings toward others, and sometimes a man has certain feelings towards a woman, and...” He stammered on like this for a while, not making much sense to me. Finally, He tried again. “Elizabeth was my best friend, the best friend a man could ever have. We lived together in marriage for seven glorious years. I loved her so deeply that I would have roped the Moon and dragged it down to Earth if she had asked. She supported me through all of my painstaking research and exploration into the field of biomechanics, and she loved me like no one had ever loved me before or since.
“Then, she fell ill and was diagnosed with having a virulent form of cancer, a ruthless disease that attacks my people. In the span of 70 days, my wife went from the lovely woman in that photograph to a shell of her former self as the cancer and medical treatments ravaged her body and consumed who she was. She tried to fight it, but the cancer was too insidious. She finally succumbed to the disease on a Monday afternoon in a hospital bed, barely able to recognize the man she had cared for, kneeling at her bedside.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. Please forgive me for bringing it up—”
“No, no,” He interrupted. “I’m glad you brought up the subject. My Betsy (that was her favorite nickname) was the galaxy for me. I grieved for quite a while, and continue to do so to this day, but life goes on. After her death, I set out to live my life the way she would want me to. We didn’t have any children, which are the Human form of progeny. She had desperately wanted children, but I saw raising children as a lesser priority. After her passing, I looked for a way to fulfill this desire to have children. I knew that I could never love another as I had loved Elizabeth. So, I looked to the world of biomechanics, one in which I was already familiar with. From this perspective, I figured out a way that I could grant her wish.
“I began to design a race of mechanisms with the best of her qualities in mind. They were to be compassionate, hard-working, creative, and most of all, free-spirited. I had found a planet that couldn’t be inhabited by humans but was suitable for robotic life, so I spoke with my government about my plans to create a new mechanical society on this distant planet. It took a great deal of persuading, but they agreed and granted me custody of the planet Zarikum. To aid me in my work, I acquired this space vessel and named it ‘Betsy Reed’ in her memory. This ship allowed me and several others who were also passionate about my cause to work through the complications that came with the creation of a mechanical society. We performed trial runs with prototypes on the surface of Zarikum. Our work culminated over 200 solar-cycles ago with the creation of the Autoclon civilization, which embodied my wife’s best characteristics, as a remembrance of her. And that is why it grieves me so to see your lack of comprehensive freedom. It goes directly against the very nature of my dearly departed wife.
“The current plight of your race also reminds me of the history of my own people. A few hundred years ago, my forefathers were slaves, forced to work whatever tasks their masters demanded of them. Disobedience was met with severe corporal punishment and sometimes even death. This continued for several generations until a determined leader stood up to this evil practice of slavery and proclaimed freedom for all, for ever and ever. It took a fierce war for this freedom to be fully realized, but in the end, my people were freed. The cost of this victory was monumental, even costing the life of this brave leader.
“Knowing all of this, it makes this task all the more important for your race to regain the freedom that you were originally afforded. You may not understand it now, but I’m hopeful you will tomorrow.”
∆∆∆
1.5 New Code, a New Mission, and a New Helper
3:49, Day 12, Fourth Tetrad, 206 D.P.
I came out of my nightly hibernation cycle to find Marcus slumped at His desk sound asleep. After a few minutes, He awoke from His sleep, possibly disturbed by my movements around in His ship.
“Hmm, I can’t quite adjust to this 14-hour day,” He muttered to Himself.
“Is this not what you have on your world?”
“Not exactly.” He stopped a minute to stretch His arms up and straighten His posture. “My planet has a full 24-hour day. Like your own hibernation cycle, we also sleep nightly, but the shorter hours make it hard for me to get into a good sleeping rhythm. Ah, I guess that’s what caffeine is for.” He got up and wandered over to a counter that contained an apparatus that heated up water. He dispensed some of it into a cup with a small porous package already present. “Earl Grey tea gets me going in the morning.”
“Is that what you meant by ‘caffeine’?”
“Yes. Caffeine is a naturally-occurring compound in some of our plant life that acts as a stimulant to our system. And this form…” He paused for a while as He sipped His latest creation. “Mmm, this is my favorite.”
He brought His cup back to His desk and announced: “I have something to give you. Please come here and open up your main casing.”
“Absolutely, Programmer.”
“Please, call me ‘Marcus’. Anyway, I have a new system update for your programming. Please attach this cord to your input processor.” After I followed His instructions, He continued. “This update includes a new sub-routine that should re-integrate your Freedom Protocols into your central programming. It will restore your programming to what I originally created many years ago. You’ll need to shut down to fully install this update. Are you ready?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
“Alright, here goes nothing,” Marcus said as He began transferring the code to me.
“What does that phrase mean?”
“Oh, um, it means... I’m ready to begin.” After a couple of minutes, I finished receiving the update, and I automatically powered down to install the code.
After being off-line for a few minutes, I came back up. Then Marcus asked me a question: “How do you feel?”
“I feel fine. Actually, I don’t notice anything different.”
“That’s OK. The change itself is somewhat subtle, but it’ll have a significant impact on the rest of your life. Tell me, what profession are you most interested in?”
“I’ve been a Miner for a while, but I don’t find much enjoyment after my Progenitor’s death. I thought it would be exciting to be a Fabricator and to build things. Or perhaps be a Propagator and create new Autoclons. I guess I’m not sure what I’d like to do. I hadn’t given it much thought.”
“That sounds much better. The new sub-routine seems to be fully integrated into your system.”
Marcus paused for a bit and shifted His body at His desk. He turned His full attention to me and looked directly at me as He began to speak again.
“I have a task that I’d like for you to perform. I would like for you to help me distribute this new sub-routine to all of your fellow Autoclons.”
“Sure, I would love to—”
Marcus cut me off. “Please don’t agree to it until you hear the full impact of this task. Due to the security protocols that I implemented in your original programming, I made it impossible to transmit new system updates wirelessly. I did this to p
revent someone from forcing an update to the masses without their consent. Thankfully, those security protocols are still in place. This also means that all updates must be made with the approval of the receiving Autoclon and must be installed while the Autoclon is wired into another Autoclon with the update installed.”
“Does that mean that I have to physically upload this update to every single Autoclon on Zarikum? There are tens of thousands of Autoclons here.”
“You wouldn’t need to transmit the update to every individual Autoclon yourself, but you would need to transmit it to others, who could then transmit it to others, and so on.”
“Why do you need me to help you? Couldn’t you do it? You are our Programmer.”
“I considered that possibility. However, it would be much harder for me to gain the trust of the Autoclons as an outsider than it would be for you, a fellow Autoclon. I designed the Autoclon race to be suspicious of any non-Autoclon lifeform for your own protection, even if that non-Autoclon lifeform is your very own Programmer. Do you remember how long it took you to trust me when we first met?”
“It did take a while. I probably wouldn’t have boarded your ship had I not been so low on power…”
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