Food came and went. Alen wasn’t feeling hunger by the time it came around, but he tried to eat as suggested. He found taking bites provided neither a sense of fullness or fulfillment. The food given looked good enough, but the flavor was lousy. As he continued to force himself to eat, the flavor would gradually shift between palatable, nothingness, and off-putting. Still, he supposed his taste buds hadn’t really put in a day’s work in a few decades; what else should he have expected?
When a team came to unhook him from various machines, Alen would be met with some surprises. The team that entered resembled nurses granted it was more male-dominated than one might expect in a standard healthcare setting. Alen supposed this was not a typical healthcare facility. In the end, he wasn’t sure he knew what ‘typical’ was anymore. Despite the male majority, Alen could have sworn they struggled to help him out of bed. A group of three men crowded him to carefully lift him onto his feet. This seemed like a large number of people for a frail coma patient, but he couldn’t fault them for being careful. This didn’t explain the strain on the young man’s face nearest his own, but maybe he was underestimating his own weight. They had been keeping him ‘pumped full of nutrients,’ as Morris had said.
Once he was standing, the disorientation only lasted for a few moments. Then he was attempting steps, not long after that, he was walking. This was the biggest surprise; he expected to be in some sort of physical therapy program for months before being able to walk on his own. The muscle dystrophy from thirty years of inactivity hadn’t slowed him down like he thought it would. He thought the overzealous tech boom might be the explanation, and predictably, one of the older male nurses had explained it as such when prompted with the question. Alen wanted to prod them with questions over other medical advances, was cancer cured? AIDS? What is the age expectancy these days? The questions were endless, but he knew not to overwhelm the staff or himself; Taking excessive information right now might not be the best idea. His legs might be working fine, but who knew how he was doing under the hood.
After everyone left through the magic panel in the wall, Alen was let alone basically the rest of the night, aside from occasional checkups and a closing visit from Morris, who gave him a heads up on the days to come. All in all, it sounded like he could be in his own place in less than two weeks. Until then, he was told to ask for anything that would make him more comfortable.
“A computer?” Alen thought catching up on the last thirty years of news would be a good idea once he has rested up. Morris looked at him, hesitating before holding back a smile.
“I’ll have to implant one into your eye.” He said, causing a look of consternation to streak across Alen’s face and a bout of laughter from Morris, a hearty belly laugh Alen remembered fondly. “I’m kidding. I’ll get you something in the morning, no worries.” He wiped a tear from his eye and gave his goodbyes for the evening.
He awoke to a variety of the nurses from the previous day standing over him. He wasn’t sure what time it was, noticing for the first time that the room he was in didn’t have any windows. After a few minutes of examinations, they wanted to go through the same routine as yesterday. Luckily for them, Alen could lift himself out of bed and take a few steps before taking a slight tumble and catching himself on one of the nearby cabinets. Satisfied with what they had seen, they called it a day and left him with his meal.
Oddly enough, he still hadn’t felt hungry and thought he couldn’t force himself to eat this time; They had served him a classic breakfast, eggs, bacon, and a single pancake, but its appealing maple scent hadn’t enticed him to eat. Alen decided he would explore what used to be GenuTec; he was sure all traces of what he once knew would be gone, but when he walked out, he was greeted by a familiar blue face.
“Good morning, Alen. — It has been a long time.” A mannequin-like face spoke, its voice coming through two speakers on the wall beside its holographic face. The accent was different the night of his accident but the featureless face suddenly caused a flood of memories; Buildings passing by so fast they were just a smear. The absolute panic, the pain shooting through his body as the truck’s bumper came smashing through his windshield, pulverizing and pinning his chest between hot metal. But nothing was as bad as that damned smile frozen on the screen.
Alen cleared his throat, choking on his first attempt to speak.
“Good morning CIPS.” Alen tried to not seem bothered by his sudden appearance.
“Oh. I have not been called that in—over eight years.” There was a slight pause when it spoke, allowing it to quickly calculate the last time it had been referred to as CIPS. “Analysis shows a rise in anxiety levels. — Are you alright, Alen?”
He wasn’t even hooked up to any machines and CIPS could detect his anxiety over the situation. If he wasn’t so creeped out right now, he would have been impressed, wanting to look at the fantastic code that made this marvel. Had they updated the original code, or had it been rewritten? He thought an update might be more likely as CIPS still remembered him.
“I’m alright. — You just surprised me, and I’m still a little fuzzy in the head.” He was covering the actual cause of his anxiety, that he was looking into what felt like his killer’s face. He knew the AI software had simply frozen, and especially at the time, it was still a learning program. Despite being nothing more than a floating animated 3D model, his body and mind naturally reacted as if it were a genuine person. “What do they call you these days?” He asked, curious.
“I am called by many names here as I can sense intent, but you may call me CIPS.” It almost sounded cheerful, like it had missed its namesake. He wondered if Morris still thought of it as CIPS when he wasn’t talking to a coma patient from the distant past but decided not to ask. He still wanted to escape from the floating blue head, even if it was seemingly friendly. Alen scootched around the hologram without thinking, he knew he could walk straight through, but the personification gave it a sense of solidity.
“Alright, CIPS — I’m gonna stretch my legs and take a look around.” He left before the AI system could give its charming goodbye and walked down the main hall. So far, the hallway had seemed as nondescript and white as the room he was in, but as he ventured further, the color shifted from white to blue to a navy blue. The entrances and windows were framed by white light that gently pulsed through the opaque glass.
He stopped at a few windows to observe what must be Memento’s best working on the next great thing. Coders tapped, engineers drew up plans and built, and testers did their endless prodding. Alen found a window overlooking a robotics team especially interesting. They had numerous soft blue mannequin-like robots, some had multiple access panels open, but two were going through what seemed like a hand-to-hand combat test.
After some ogling, Alen finally wandered off again, walking further down the hallway until it opened up into an open room with seating, various screens playing a multitude of things; Including ads for Memento featuring Morris’ voice, and what smelled like coffee. He figured this must be one of the many gathering areas in the building for workers to relax in their free time. He wasn’t sure where else to go, so he decided to sit. The smell of the coffee was the first thing that actually invoked a reaction within him. Perhaps it was his unnatural dependence on the substance prior to his accident, but it was this dependency that sent him over to the machine emitting the pleasant, bitter odor.
It wasn’t like any coffee maker he had ever seen, but he would be damned if he couldn’t figure it out. After twenty minutes of fiddling and no delicious bean water, he thought that this must be how grandparents feel. “I just want some damn coffee.”
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He groaned, lightly smacking the machine with the defeated butt of his fist. A sharp ding emanated from the device, then a red cup was pushed out of a now open slot in the wall. Dark steaming liquid fell from one extended arm over the cup. When it was full, another component came into sight, adding a layer of cream that left the design of a leaf on the frothy surface. Alen stood there feeling old but victorious, the warm beverage filled his senses as he returned to take his seat. He relished in the smell one last time before giving it a cautionary blow and then a sip. The coffee was unfortunately plain, just like everything else he had tried recently, but he was of the mind that coffee didn’t need to taste good. He was of a similar opinion when it came to alcohol. It was about the effect the drink gave, not about the taste, and while he was hoping for a better taste, he looked forward to the energy boost it should provide.
He watched one of the many screens in the room, noticing the panel containing the video would tilt in his direction for easier viewing. In fact, if he looked at any screen, that panel would lean towards him. He couldn’t see any sensors around, but somehow the room, or perhaps it was CIPS, knew precisely where he was looking.
“—Memento, we pride ourselves on offering top tier technology.” Morris’ familiar voice began on the screen he settled on. “No tacky add-ons, no chance of infection when implanted, just pure tech to take your body to the next level.” Alen noticed a clear stab at BioGlow, still bothered by the clearly visible implant in his eye. It would annoy Alen too, the glow in his eye was essentially an advertisement for his biggest competitor. “—The price tag might be larger, but you’re not one of those lowlifes on the street. You’re you, and you know Memento Tech is worth it.” He was taken aback by the last statement before the commercial changed to something regarding a new top-of-the-line servant robot. Companies from his time would have never dared to speak that way else risk becoming a pariah in the media, and it came off with such an undisguised crassness.
Before he could further ponder these thoughts, he would have a heavy hand collide with his shoulder.
“There you are! Good to see you out and about.” Morris offered a smile that was less smug than the one featured at the end of his commercial. “I take it you’re feeling well today?” The smugness returned to his face, this time lying more in his eyebrows than lips, but this isn’t what Alen noticed; he thought Morris had looked at his coffee cup.
“Yeah, it—”
“The marvels of medicine!” Morris interuppted with a jokey grand announcement tone, then puttered out with a slight chuckle. “Come on, I wanna show you something.” He turned to lead the way before turning back around, looking pensive, “You should probably throw that away.” He offered no more explanation, turning back around the lead the way. Alen didn’t mind, the coffee still lacked the flavor that he was hoping would settle in. He threw the cup away into one bin, which swiftly chopped it up into little pieces before settling on the garbage confetti below. Alen had found this significantly more enjoyable than the coffee itself, but followed Morris resisting the urge to throw something else away. He led him down another white hallway, though this was less bright than the one in front of his own room. Morris eventually stopped in front of a long rectangle window overlooking two men in lab coats talking to a young girl. Alen looked in, expecting Morris to explain, but nothing came, so he continued to observe.
He couldn’t hear what was being said, but it seemed like they were questioning her. Alen wondered what a girl of her age would be doing here, was she a child prodigy? He pondered the idea of her being another patient, but found it unlikely Morris was trying to start a hospital wing. She seemed frazzled at the moment and the lab coats noticed, jotting down who knows what in their notebooks. She haphazardly moved her light brown hair out of her face, the blooming red on her pale cheeks now exposed to the bright light of the room. He had thought the younger generation of today might dress strange, well more so than what his parents deemed weird when he was a teen, but she seemed dressed similar to what he would have expected if not for the thirty-year gap. The colors didn’t match, her clothes looked like a mashup of Christmas and cotton candy but still managed to look like a thought-out outfit.
“This is what you wanted to show me?” Unsure of what he was supposed to see here. “I don’t get it.”
“This is Bionca.”
“—Alright, and I’m sure she is lovely, but I still don’t get it. What? Does she have some bionic heart? A ‘Gogo Gadget’ Arm?” Alen extended his neck and squinted his eyes, trying to see if he noticed anything unusual, but the girl still seemed normal to him.
“Bionca is our newest model of AI.” Then his eyes widened as if just remembering, “Well, and a shell that can simulate real human skin, grow and age just like you or me.” This last part was voiced as if it wasn’t a big deal, then brought his hands up and put his palms out, as if to say, ‘There you have it.’ Alen’s eyebrows raised so far, it felt like they might grow legs and walk off his face. “A human-like face just won’t cut it anymore. It has to be one-to-one with nature.” He said before bursting into laughter. “Granted, you’re not likely to see anyone with skin that pure anymore. Most have been tattooed from head to toe, wired up or both.” Alen asked what he meant by ‘wired up,’ which was made clear when Morris pointed to his eye.
“How would you like to help with the project while you’re here? Get the gears movin’ again, shake the rust off.” Morris offered, extending his hand out towards Bionca.
“I needed to workshop my coding before my accident; I couldn’t possibly keep up after thirty years.” Alen protested, surprised at the offer.
“You have the mindset for this type of work. Most importantly, you understand what I want.” Morris emphasized the word ‘I’ with mild exasperation, giving the impression that the lab coats working for him weren’t listening or perhaps bringing back unsatisfactory results.
Alen looked back through the window. “What else could possibly be done? I didn’t even know she was an AI until you said so. Hell, for all I know, you could still be playing a trick on me, and that is just a normal teen.” Morris gave him that old familiar laugh from his gut, drawing the attention of one man inside the room, who quickly went back to his notebook after seeing it was his boss.
“And how happy it made me to hear that news.” His smile widened. “There is still much work to be done before we truly reach human-like AI Autonomy and that’s where I’m hoping you’ll come in.” Morris placed his hands on the ledge of the windowsill, leaning onto it. “Honestly, she still gives me an uncanny valley vibe. — You would be a new set of eyes; at the very least you could put my researchers into a new train of thought.”
Alen thought it over for a few moments, examining the girl. He still couldn’t find anything that called out her true nature, but what really called to him was the exhilaration of discovery. He wanted to figure out what the code looked like, how the skin grew and aged over the years, good lord, what the memory bank on this thing must look like! When he was a child, he always thought of computers like magic, but as he aged and took his hobby to the next level, a full-time career after a few years of education, it lost that magic that had excited him so much as a boy. He could feel that magic, that wonder filling his stomach with helium and lifting it into his chest.
“Alright—” Alen tried to sound like a teen given a chore list. “I’ll do it.” He clapped Morris on the back and a chuckle trailed out.
“Great! I’ll bring you in tomorrow.” Morris looked down at his watch, a much more sleek and feature-filled device than the smartwatches Alen was familiar with. “You should probably get back to your room. You have a few tests today before you can wander off some more.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a small black slate. “Here, I know it’s not a computer, but this will serve two purposes. This way you can call me, or anyone else for that matter.” Alen took the cold black metal from his hand and turned it over, the ‘M’ from Memento was imprinted on the back with a hairline circle around it. Alen knew it was a phone, but it was so small and thin, he wasn’t sure how he’d manage to type on such a small screen. When Alen tapped the screen twice to wake the device, a habit from his old smartphone, the slate extended what must have been at least six inches lengthwise. He fiddled around in the new operating system presented to him before giving his thanks to Morris. Other than some special features he would have to learn about, the phone worked much like they did before his accident.
“Now, you can start ignoring my calls again.” Alen slid the phone, which had collapsed back into its bite-sized shape, back into his pocket and walked back into the open room filled with screens. Morris walked with him until they had to go separate directions, but before they did, Alen spoke up, bringing the phone out of his pocket. “Anything I should be warned about?” Wondering where he should even begin when he decides to catch up on everything he’s missed.
“Oh, but that would spoil everything.” Morris said before leaving Alen with one more slap to the arm. Alen put the phone back into his pocket and sighed, feeling overwhelmed at the thought of reading over thirty years of human life. Earlier, he was dreading the idea of going through a series of tests. Now that he was back in his room, he was glad to have a largely easygoing distraction to procrastinate a daunting task.