Freedom Club (13 page)

Shunro Kamiyoshi sat silently as tears streamed down his face. He was speechless, but it didn’t matter. Perhaps his emotional outburst was enough. Shiro looked on for a few moments and nodded with the understanding that only a father and son could share.

Though intense love between Sentient Beings and humans was unheard of, the two bonded as few do in life, unified as one while at the same time knowing they may never see each other again. It was an unfortunate situation, yet familiar.

The past was beginning to reassert itself and Shiro was faced with a great challenge. But what he didn’t realize was the efforts of others. Those who worked on similar challenges that in some respects were related to his own. This was difficult to see, however.

For the superficial nature of their problems appeared different, as did their methods of resolution.

S
hinzou sat idly at his workstation mulling over DNA models. Faint light from moving images on the flexi walls nearby produced complex patterns around the room. Soothing shadows that added depth to the workspace Shinzou and Henry found themselves in over long hours.

Their office, if one could call it that, was also a mixture of electronic equipment of every description, and sprinkled with knickknacks from bygone ages. Nearby were several computers from the previous century. And on equipment racks that lined the entire room’s perimeter rested antique toys and industrial age tools of every shape and description. Eccentric taste, but it was after all their home, which they had come to love and cherish.

Sitting in front of his primary flexi monitor, Shinzou yawned while lethargically moving molecules around the screen. Large arrays of nucleotides reconfigured themselves as side notes and markups trailed down the right side of his view.

“I don’t think so,” Henry said, looking up from across the room.

“Hmm?” Shinzou mumbled.

“More like this, I believe.” The molecules rearranged themselves under the careful guidance of Henry’s dexterous fingers.

Looking down, Shinzou gazed on as Henry’s solution became increasingly apparent. He nodded slowly, and without argument went on to the next step of their analysis.

Like two small children playing with wood blocks. That was the emotional state shared by both Shinzou and Henry as they worked together in this fashion. Naturally, blocks were replaced with all sorts of sophisticated things. Technical documents, charts, diagrams, equations, specifications, designs, and the like. But the emotions related to the work were mostly identical. One would place it carefully down, while the other placed the next piece alongside.

Perhaps a playful argument would erupt. What were you thinking? Shinzou would say. Linear regression? Are you crazy? Come, come, now, argued Henry in response. Not every problem is nonlinear in nature. A simple OLS is more than enough. Even a monkey can see the complexity here. Clearly biospatial analysis is called for! And so on and so forth.

They were so accustomed to working with each other in a unified manner, collaborative efforts became their primary activity. A symbiotic relation, but not biological. More like a mental union that brought both the greatest satisfaction and produced superior results. For both Shinzou and Henry, nothing mattered more than getting their work done right.

After some time, Shinzou looked at his antique wall clock. They had been at it for several hours and Shinzou began to suffer from fatigue. The time had slipped by without notice until human biology began to rear its ugly head.

“Time for some food,” Shinzou said, as he leaned back and stretched both his arms. “Anyway, analysis of the non-stop board shows clearly that the Quad was brought down by us.”

“Indeed,” Henry said with an agreeable nod. “The combination of encrypted signatures is unmistakable. I suppose we can expect a number of similar failures to start. The human race will be greatly inconvenienced.”

Shinzou went over to the kitchen and began to fix some lunch. “As it must be,” he said, yanking food from the cooler. “What about you, Henry? Your biological systems need anything?”

Henry shook his head and floated closer to where Shinzou busily began preparing lunch. “All my systems are fine. I won’t require any nutri-maintenance for a few more days.”

Looking down, Shinzou frowned. “Look at this! I can’t get away from technology even when I prepare this simple meal.”

Shaking his head, Shinzou used his hand to squash down a clearly overstacked pile of deli meat, vegetables, and gourmet cheese between two slices of stout German bread.

“Why complain? You never showed interest in growing food,” Henry pointed out.

“No, I meant the sandwich. You see, it in itself is a result of technology,” Shinzou said, while taking a large bite. “It didn’t exist until the onset of the industrial revolution. It became standard fair in factories when people no longer had the luxury of sitting down for a meal.”

“I thought it was named after Lord Sandwich, who preferred eating them while playing cards.”

“True,” said Shinzou, still chewing. “It was named after him, but only became popular in factories and mills. Finger food of the industrial revolution. Otherwise, it might never have survived.”

“Interesting,” Henry noted.

“The point being that technology is everywhere. From the minute we are born, we’re literally swimming in it. We often don’t even notice this until we’re just about drowning to death.”

Henry stroked his beard and contemplated. “Curious, what would you then suggest, that everyone farm and live in mud huts? Or better yet, perhaps you humans should just go back to an ancient hunter-gatherer society and live in caves.”

“Like Anarcho-Primitives?”

“Or others that consider grunting a lifestyle doctrine,” Henry reproached. “But it seems to me that one must determine how far back one can push technology. Or is it all pointless, akin to sweeping back the ocean?”

Shinzou realized that Henry wanted to drag him into a philosophical dialectic. This was a form of play they had enjoyed since Henry was young. He didn’t mind though. It was after all a verbal form friendship. Looking at the remnants of his food, Shinzou considered the best way to enter their philosophical playground.

“Well, that’s the issue,” Shinzou said thoughtfully. “Conservatives would push back all the way, to a very primitive way of life and forego all technology. But there is a more moderate form. Limit technology to things that individuals are capable of teaching to their immediate offspring. In that case, farming and simple construction techniques are allowed because no specialized schooling is required. Society would go on generation after generation with simple hand-me-down knowledge.”

“That sounds like Kaczynski’s position,” Henry interjected.

“Yes, the Unabomber, as he was called at that time, wrote precisely that in his manifesto. But controlling technology is a gray area. During the nineteenth century, Thoreau had already recommended living simply, even though it may have been not easily understood.”

“Ah...Walden Pond,” Henry reminisced. “Satisfaction from a one-room cabin in the woods.”

“But we know the point was not to live in a cabin,” Shinzou said while chewing. “His point was to prove that real needs were few. A form of mild asceticism that urged people to live a simple lifestyle. Find contentment in nature. Hmmm, give us a quote, Henry!”

Quickly scanning the text, Henry said, “Most of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of life, are not only not indispensible, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind.”

“Precisely! And that’s why I – or we, I suppose – have chosen to live here in this cactus wasteland. To help simplify our lives and cast away things society would have us toil for.”

Henry puckered his lips contemplatively. “By today’s living standard, our little pit is nothing to brag about, but certainly we have many comforts. Electricity, running water, heating, not to mention the wide assortment of gadgets for doing our work and entertaining ourselves. If Thoreau were brought back from the dead and stood here before us, what would be his reaction?”

Shinzou laughed at Henry’s comment. “Well, we’re certainly not living like Anarcho-Primitives. And you know as well as I that your biological components require technology to remain operating. But who cares! Almost all Anarcho-Primitives don’t live up to their own doctrine, so why should we?”

As Henry was about to respond, a small chime emanated from a screen that floated on the far wall. Henry went over and looked back anxiously.

“That confirms it. The outage in Bengaluru was caused by our work in Japan. Just like Phoenix, they both show our embedded signatures.”

Shinzou ate the last bite, and began to clean up in the kitchen. Washing his plate with non-potable water, he considered what all this meant. Their efforts from years past were now becoming a reality. It was both exciting and frightening. Were they now terrorists? Shinzou didn’t think so, but that point of view would not be shared by all.

“How long do you think before someone figures it out?”

Henry raised his eyebrows. “What? Our incubation propagation virus? It took me several days to unpack and rebuild the original from the scattered fragments. And I know exactly what to look for. It’s rather doubtful that anyone will stumble across the key for quite some time, if ever.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Shinzou said, and went back to cleaning.

“But I wonder if it’s enough?” Henry said, brooding to himself.

“Didn’t you just say it was?”

“Sorry, I meant that in relation to our previous conversation. Specifically, it seems many of our predecessors have searched for better ways to either live their lives or take actions that would somehow improve society. For instance, Thoreau lived at Walden Pond to rid himself of the hindrances we spoke of and then wrote a book with some intent to change society for the better. Clearly, our choice of home location leaves little doubt that we too follow in his footsteps. But our activities to bring down payment systems – Phoenix, Bengaluru and all the others that will surely follow – there is uncertainty it will bring about any real change. Seems to me that the populace at large may never learn anything from all this.”

“It takes time,” Shinzou said. “The weaning process from consumerism and materialism will be slow and painful. We also have to see how things go and make adjustments. Perhaps the efficacy of our plan will not be apparent at first, but we’re on the verge. If our virus has spread out enough, we could soon witness a worldwide pandemic of system outages. Globally, people would be faced with a very serious reality.”

“Namely?”

“That you can’t shop and play your way to happiness!”

“Yes, but as much as I agree,” Henry blurted, “we should consider what comes next. The Freedom Club has so many members that have tried to alter society over the centuries. One must question if these efforts are all in vain. Thoreau, Gandhi, Ellul, Kaczynski...the list goes on, but one must wonder if the Club has any lasting effect or are we just wasting time?”

Shinzou walked over to a couch in the living room. He pushed aside various books he had been reading. They thudded on the ground as he sat stoically. The question posed by Henry was not only valid, but was perhaps the question he had faced his entire life. Were their efforts all for nothing? Worse, was his entire life’s work in vain? He sat silently for a few moments and soul searched before coming to a conclusion.

“Hard to say,” Shinzou said, looking up with a smile. “Claiming certainty would be both a lie and proof that I’m not smart enough to understand the limits and pitfalls of my own beliefs. Still, even though doubts remain, I can tell you this, Henry.”

“Yes?” Henry floated over close to where Shinzou relaxed.

“Apathy and tolerance of an enslaving system that can meander as it likes through society is not an option that I can accept in good conscience. My path is clear. And if I can’t understand my purpose from thousands of years of existing wisdom...well, then I am truly forsaken.”

Henry looked on for a moment. He then found an appropriate phrase to sum up his own mind. “It is not doing the thing we like to do, but liking the thing we have to do, that makes life blessed.”

“That’s nice,” Shinzou said. “Gandhi?”

“Goethe.”

“Ach, leave it to the Germans. Hands down, they had the best group of modern day philosophers you could ask for.”

“Without question!” Henry agreed. “But it is rather unfortunate that the application of many philosophies – besides the Germans, mind you – can bring about rather unexpected outcomes.”

Shinzou squinted his eyes and thought about that. There were so many examples of philosophical misuse, his mind swam about looking for a good place to rest.

“Well,” Shinzou said. “The belief in science and technology to solve all of man’s ills has until today created a great misconception. People think technology can do no wrong when in fact it has quietly enslaved us.”

“I was thinking of something a bit more horrendous.”

“Hm?”

There was a brief silence.

“Like the mass death of millions of innocent people,” Henry said.

“Yes.” Shinzou mulled over the statement. “Sadly, that too.”

Shinzou knew that death was, for the most part, an abstract concept for Sentients. Humans, of course, were typically more concerned about it because of their own mortality. It often weighed upon their minds. Unlike Sentients, who with no real age limit were less inclined to take the matter seriously.