Sentience (5 page)

"Hang on, the up drafts here can get violent," Ling said as the craft began to climb. Almost instantly, it rocked and swayed, blown by the wind as it cleared the city vertically.
It turned westward and blasted away, climbing in both speed and altitude quickly for a minute until it was at cruise altitude. The city was long gone, and there was nothing to do but sit back for the ride, and hope for a happier landing.

The Tech Apocalypse, by Will Morrison

Technology is the hallmark of the human race. No other species on this planet has increased their footing quite like humans, and a long series of new technology brought us from stone and papyrus, through bronze, iron, coal, gasoline, and into a world of transistors and quantum computing. On their own, they are just devices, machines, but in the hands of human beings, they are tools for building a new world...for better or worse. For all the work we've put into technology, can we really say that it has made the world a better place?

Detractors will tell me I am wrong for several reasons. Clean water is available in places that have not had it for millennia. We can reach all corners of the globe in transportation and communication. Medical advances have made it so that, barring extraneous circumstances, the average human lifespan in civilized nations is nearly a hundred years. We can see pockets of the universe that we never dreamed existed through powerful telescopes, and space travel is relatively common, with Suborbital Rapid Transports breaking Earth's atmosphere frequently to reach their destinations, on the other side of the globe from their points of departure. These are all things that people living two hundred years ago would have simply stared at in awe, perhaps wondering if their eyes were deceiving them.

But I must take on some realism when I look at the landscape that technology has carved out for the common man. One of the most ubiquitous events of the last century was the advent of social media. Never before had people been able to connect with so many others, regardless of the distance. It was a force capable of reaching untold masses, unlike any other. And yet, something was lacking. We traded face to face conversations with quick little blurps of conversation. It didn't take long to notice the difference. Five seconds spent saying hello to someone in a manner that they may not even see was not enough to maintain meaningful connections. We splintered off into our own little bubbles, convinced that we were popular and lively, when we were simply living by ourselves in a virtual world.

One cannot simply live behind a computer and expect to stay connected, ironically enough. You can write about the sun all day long, but unless you see it yourself, let it shine upon you, the sun is just a distant star in a sky you never see. Our world became an idea inside our heads, and to confront the real world became a nightmare. One needs look no further than the Middle East War of the 2060's to see that we were not prepared for the real world when it came knocking at our door: when the call for the draft came out, 92% of the eligible men and women dodged the draft, openly declaring that they would serve no greater good than their own preservation. The Islamic Freedom Army stood united, we did not. Consequently, we were embarrassed and defeated, sent home with our tails between our legs while they conquered eastward, all the way to Germany.

And now, it happens again. Recent polls suggest that 89% of communication in the U.S. is done through social media. This means that nine out of ten of our conversations are masked behind the shield of the computer screen. Usage of these sites is higher than it has ever been, so it is not a stretch to say that social media eats up a majority of America's time. All the while, the world goes on without us.  China makes leaps and bounds, financially and politically, Germany struggles to liberate themselves from various invaders after the Middle East War, tribal warfare increases tenfold across the continent of Africa...states are even seceding from the Union, and the U.S. remains ignorant of all of it.

Some of the old movies portrayed technology being our undoing. They were wrong about only one thing: the attack was not a brute force invasion that we resisted, but rather, a subtle, dividing force that we welcomed with open arms. I don't share the doomsday theories that most of the Sanctus followers seem to ascribe to these days, but I can see why they are concerned.

The Trading Post, by Loretta Wendell

On the coast of Northern California, the AC set up a trading post, their sole point of land ownership in the United States. They attempted to negotiate for years with the governments of both California and the US to purchase land upon which they could build their trading posts, eager to build relations with this nation and establish themselves as allies and business partners. They would discover firsthand the obstacles of human greed and underhanded tactics.

From the very beginning, they faced the obstacle of being a race without a nation. The officials who would look past the stigma of associating with what in the eyes of the public were "just robots" we're beset by special interest groups from multiple tech companies, who played on the fact that the Autonomous Collective was, at this point, just a group of intelligent machines. They were not members of any nation. The special interest groups fed half-truths to the officials who could approve the land purchase, such as a perceived lack of government body to ensure that the machines followed the laws of the U.S. and international trade. The machines' reputation was painted black with the fear that some of them would break laws without remorse. They warned of nuclear weapons in the hands of mad men and directed energy weapons in the grip of every mercenary, supplied to them by machines.

The AC was persistent, and got the government to relent to a single tract of land to produce a small store where their goods could be sold. Being machines, they made the most of their tiny store, packing it with equipment far superior to anything made in the U.S., at an unmatchable price. Farmers could buy tools that never broke. Technicians could buy electronic components manufactured for perfection at a microscopic level. A family could order a vehicle that would almost never break down, backed by a warranty that would replace anything that could possibly go wrong under the rarest of circumstances. No business was happy for the competition, and lobbied for high taxes and tariffs on these goods to make them unattractive to the customers. The machines kept lowering their prices, not caring much for profit, but still striving for their goal of better relations.

The companies stateside won, eventually. People finally accepted that the government was doing everything it could to shut down the AC's business, and though they were outraged at first, eventually they moved on to the next big topic, like they always did.  The trading post still stands, with its goods on the shelf, the store owners waiting patiently and petitioning for the lowering of the astronomical taxes and tariffs. But I believe even they know that the probability of such an occurrence is low. The U.S. has everything to gain from trade with the AC, but due to the greed of big business, that little trading post will remain little more than a monument to the triumph of the business over their customers.

Date: July 24th, 2149

Location: Shanghai, China

Charley knew the history of China long before he ever got to the country. Communist was still a dirty word in the U.S., and he expected to find a people downtrodden and impoverished when he arrived. What he didn't know was how far the Decentralization Pact had allowed China to advance from its old days. People spoke freely, not afraid of the consequences of speaking ill of a government official. The city had been made rich from the production of robotic components, key to so many facets of daily life here. Cameras still watched the populace for signs of unrest, and the police retained their reputation for swift and brutal action. But for the most part, the people no
longer felt the weight of the government on their shoulders, nor did they fear the watchful eye.

He continued to watch the densely-packed streets below as the sun rose. As always, he exercised, not just for the strength-building, but to continue to improve coordination. His new prosthetics were built with elastics that imitated human muscles, and also grew stronger with use. This provided him with more fine motor control, as opposed to the hydraulically-powered limbs that he was equipped with after the first operation, which were often less than delicate.

"Breathe deep. Focus on a faraway point as you work," Charley reminded himself as he performed a squat, focusing on a tall tower. The sun was gleaming off its windows, turning the black pearlescent tinting to a purple color. He could see it move a few millimeters as it swayed in a quick burst of wind.

"Keep the concentration," He said to himself as he transitioned to a planking position. The plush carpet on his apartment floor was soft and clean, almost comfortable enough to fall asleep on. He could smell the scent of the air freshening spray, a clean hint of a grassy meadow.

"Now for something more difficult," Charley said, standing on his hands. He closed his eyes and focused with all his might to use a different sense.

The radio transmissions are mostly quiet today. Must be a peaceful morning out on the streets. Except for that woman, she's late for work. Focus a little less, don't invade privacy.

Charley opened his eyes and lifted his right arm, supporting all his weight with the prosthetic arm. He tensed up his remaining human muscles, straining to support the weight of 150 pounds of robotic implements. 30 seconds went by, and he struggled to focus through the pain. Determined to beat his record of 55 seconds, he grunted and flexed, powering through. His focus was completely lost as the door opened, and he fell to the ground, out of breath and staring at the ceiling.

"Having fun?" Ling asked, standing over him.

"57 seconds.
My best yet!" Charley said enthusiastically, still lying on the ground.

"As your doctor, it's not encouraging to come in and find you in a pile on the floor," Ling said, laughing.

"As long as you've known me, would you expect any different?" Charley said with a smile.

"The fact that I know you so well has me thinking that maybe you need a new doctor!" Ling added, heading to Charley's refrigerator to grab
a water.

"Well then, why don't you quit?" Charley continued the banter as he rose to his feet.

"For one, I wouldn't get to poke you with a needle every time you decide to be a mule," Ling joked.

"A mule?
Come on, I'm at least a pony, maybe a horse."

"No, no, a mule.
Ugly and stubborn."

"Touché, Ling," Charley replied, laughing to himself as he looked out the balcony's sliding glass door. The city really was peaceful from this distance, when he took in everything. The AC had spared no expense in obtaining a beautiful place to stay. The place lit up like a carnival at
night, and in the morning, he could feel the cool breeze flowing in from the Pacific Ocean.

Ling brushed her hand across his back and moved to hold his right arm as she took in the view, as well. She laid her head on his arm, breathing the cool ocean air, letting it invigorate her. They had grown quite fond of each other during his time here. At first, the relationship was strictly platonic. The AC theorized that the CPU would only allow access to those it deemed trustworthy, so it was advantageous that they become friends, at the very least. But inevitably, after all the time they spent together, Charley grew enamored with her intelligence, her quick sense of humor, and her compassion. Ling, on the other hand, grew to admire his fighting spirit and intuitive mind.

"Not a cloud in the sky today," Charley said aloud.

"Talking about the weather?
Really?" Ling joked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm transparent, I know," Charley said, rolling his eyes. Still, he had never felt this calm before. After struggling to
eek out a living for so long, he was at the patronage of a group of powerful friends, shielded from almost every harm. He could not ask for better companions on the road to recovery, and he was truly grateful every day.

"I guess we should get going. Lots of tests to do today," Charley said.

"They can wait for a little while. Traffic is going to be horrible this morning, anyhow," Ling responded, looking up into his eyes with a smile. She was an image of everything his life could be, the brightest light through the darkness of his past. When he was with her, things did not look as hopeless as they really were.

And really, they were hopeless. There was nowhere else to go if things fell through, and he feared the mess he had left behind. He was not sure if Matthews would try to take his parents hostage in order to find him, and still was not even sure what he wanted to accomplish by sending him into a den full of gun-runners. Months of calls had yielded nothing, and Charley only worried more with each passing day. He had heard that large masses of people were starting to flee Detroit for some reason, and knew his parents could have been among them.

Bad things happened when he let his guard down.

"Any word from Detroit?" Ling asked, as if sensing his deteriorating mood.

"No, none so far.
Sorry, I know I should be patient," Charley said. He knew that he naturally distanced himself when worrying, which wasn't good for the tests, and he felt guilty for ruining the moment.