Memory Transcription Subject: Elias Meier, Former UN Secretary-General
Date [standardized human time]: July 29, 2160
The meeting with the Leshee ambassador had paid off, as the Shield reluctantly agreed for me to take a speaking slot on a single day’s agenda. Ambassador Yali relayed the news yesterday, and indicated that we’d be leaving tomorrow; herself and Korajan, along with many of the Terran ambassadors, would be returning to Shield territory to advise. Presumably, it was also to keep me at bay with his predator expertise if the worst came to pass. I was still elated to have the invitation accepted. This would be humanity’s first look behind the curtain, of how our sister organization operated. This was a chance to forge closer ties between us, after decades having no direct contact with their central governing body.
Kuemper and I had discussed long-term goals throughout the past week, to prepare me on what to say to further the United Nations’ agenda. The Arxur situation caused me to look deeper into the species kept isolated, and just how their living conditions had festered. I expressed staunch disapproval over the indefinite quarantines, especially forbidding entire species from the stars; humanity should’ve learned the issues with collective punishment. However, the Secretary-General brought up a worrisome point—that the Shield, namely the Duerten sect, wanted Aafa glassed altogether. For us to get them to consider tolerating us “letting them get away scot free,” the first step would be to turn the Shield to full-fledged friends. It required undoing centuries of anti-predator dogma, so they could accept us as well-intentioned sapients, all over again.
Much like with the Federation, it’s about getting any voters who’ll agree to a military alliance, and taking it from there. Baby steps. The galaxy still has a lot of healing to do, and I don’t want humanity to turn a blind eye to those that are suffering today from the conspiracy’s legacy.
I hadn’t decided what I would say to the Shield, and wondered just how Noah had come up with his iconic, “Maybe we could be your friends” response. To me, that was the clincher for getting a few parties to give us an honest chance. I closed my eyes, issuing yet another silent thanks for having proper eyelids—a successful surgical augment from Virnt. The Tilfish had been working at late hours of the night over the past week, seemingly obsessed with some sort of project. He hadn’t left his desk even for a sendoff to me, so I made it a purpose to pay him a visit. Unease gripped my throat, as I noticed the insectoid surrounded by human brains in jars. Was…this how he’d replicated the inner workings of the hominid mind?
“Just here to say goodbye. I’ll be leaving any minute, as soon as the Sulean diplomat arrives,” I told the Terra Technologies scientist.
Virnt turned around, mandibles clacking in an excitable way. “Yes, of course. I hope the adjustments have helped, Elias. You’re going to be the first synthetic to act on behalf of humanity—what a long scuttle forward! We’re building a concrete case for when you inevitably address the SC about rights for all people like you. We’ll even have precedent with the Shield, for them to grant you the privileges of a sapient being.”
“We haven’t seen how the Shield, as a whole, will receive me yet. Not all of the diplomats were so…elated about my digital resurrection. Perhaps this will serve to get them used to the idea; I suppose I am arguing for more than just humanity, the biological race.”
“You already knew there were several factors at play. The safety of the galaxy being chief among them. I remember when the Arxur raided my homeworld; my mother and I narrowly escaped, thanks to human soldiers. It’s a tired story, perhaps, but that’s the beauty of it. I trust that you won’t let us get into another war with the grays, knowing the consequences. The Shield needs to hear that as well.”
I nodded, and focused on blinking; even with eyelids, it was something I had to do manually. “Was it hard for you, Virnt? Living on Earth…you know, as a giant insect?”
“Oh, yes, of course. Any time I go in public spaces, it’s almost inevitable that someone freaks out at the sight of me. I wish there was a trick as simple as wearing a visor, like you can with your eyes.”
“For what it’s worth, I think wearing something as basic as a lab coat might work. It’d make you more…human, to their eyes. It’d draw some connections in the brain of ‘person’ rather than ‘aaah, scary!’ That’s a hard perception to flip though, and I hope it’s not too hurtful.”
“Not at all. Marcel told us, when I was very young, that humans evolved to see us as harbingers of disease. I’ve studied the response quite a bit, so I do understand exactly when it originates in the brain! I thought about removing fear responses from the brain, since they’re a net negative in my view, but replicating emotions is too complex to risk that.”
I cleared my throat. “If I can’t feel all of the same emotions as a human, then I’m not myself. Elias Meier was the sum of all his parts—the positive and the negative.”
“I don’t disagree. You still are an Elias Meier. The continuous experience of consciousness is the essence of personhood, in my opinion. I cannot imagine your brain knows how to make sense of the Great Beyond.”
“Death? It wasn’t complicated; dark is the absence of light, and death is the absence of life. It is simply nothing. I wish there were…others who could describe the experience, because it changes how you view everything. It’s difficult being the only one of my kind, and having no one to…commiserate with.”
“That is all changing soon!” The Tilfish waved a grasp in a circular motion, sweeping across different brain jars. “Look around you, Elias.”
I did a double take on the human minds scattered about his office; was Virnt trying to figure out how to straight-up resurrect people, just by taking their brains? Wouldn’t they have rotted and lost neural connections, even if they were suspended in formaldehyde or something similar? My eyes squinted, seeing Terran names with holographic codes affixed to them. I scanned one marker, pulling up a full biological profile—which stated that this individual had died in the year 2025, or 135 years ago. I didn’t understand why the Tilfish was tampering with bodies that had been laid to rest over a century ago.
These people couldn’t have consented to this; Virnt still doesn’t understand the fundamental problem with what he did to me. If Elias Meier had been asked, before his death, he wouldn’t have wanted this. I…shouldn’t exist, and I know it.
“No, these are the exact people who did consent, and who would want this!” Virnt responded to my internal thoughts, which earned a sour look from me. “There were individuals who were cryogenically frozen in the late-20th and early-21st century, under the hopes that scientists could reverse death one day…perhaps even with just their brains. Humans who knew science could solve insurmountable obstacles with enough time. They were frozen after death, and now, it’s just up to me to piece the…data in their minds together. Isn’t that wonderful?”
I paused, eyeing what I realized were cryogenic storage boxes; I faintly recalled hearing about individuals, hoping death could be reversed one day. “Hm. I suppose these would be people who hoped for this sort of technology, and would want to be brought back. If they had just their minds revived, they must believe it’s all that’s necessary. They must have…considered this to be one of the ways they could return.”
“Precisely! Their…novice vitrification process could, unfortunately, result in damage to neural tissues. But it’s most important that the areas preserving memory and personality are intact, like they are in these. I’ve been studying the most viable specimens, and narrowed those down to ones that also have supplemental brain imaging—such as long-outdated procedures like ‘MRIs,’ which used gigantic machines for entire lengths of time. At any rate, artificial intelligence can use this to try to restore any damaged sections.”
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Virnt definitely can unload a lot of information on his topics of interest. It’s nice to see someone so engaged with their line of work; I can respect a singular passion. Not everybody can emulate that, and I hope he has others who appreciate that.
“I’m on the spectrum. I know you already guessed that, but thank you for not singling it out or treating me differently,” the Tilfish commented.
I raised my eyebrows. “One of my most helpful aides was autistic, back in my…original life. As a diplomat, you grow to welcome such…straightforwardness, and information without any slant. For what it’s worth, I do think these are solid candidates, if you’re moving forward with the project.”
“Of course I’m moving forward with it! Elias, you’re a sample size of one; we can’t make any sweeping judgments from just you. I want you involved with this, going forward. When you get back from your visit to the Shield, I’ll have finished up the recovery work on my selected candidate. I’ll bring them to life then, and we can help them through the transition together! Someone will have to aid them in adjusting to the 22nd century.”
“It’s…crazy that we can bring back people, even if it’s only a few, that died in the prior century.” I would be curious to know what life was like for them. It’ll be souls from a different time period than our previous interlopers. “At least these types might have an easier time than the Archives captives, adjusting to the idea that they’re now in the ‘future.’ I’ll be glad to be there and help; I’m the only one who knows what they’re going through, after all. Don’t forget to start them with the revisions you already made for me!”
“I won’t forget. Your input will be the key to perfecting this for the next digital transplants. Like with any technology, it’ll only improve.”
“It has to. The slightest imperfection and I guarantee they’ll notice.” Like I still notice the utter absence of breathing. Suffocation isn’t the sort of sensation that just fades into the background over time. “The Sulean envoy should be here by now, so we shouldn’t keep them waiting. Good luck, Virnt. Remember why you’re doing this.”
The Tilfish waved a grasper in a rather human gesture, before returning to his work, looking at the transcripts he’d pulled from the cryonic brains. Those should be quite interesting to peruse for historical value, seeing what the time period was truly like through their eyes. As intrusive as it was to view someone’s life story from a single snapshot of their mind, I couldn’t deny the applications the technology could have. There clearly were many sapients who were interested in mind uploading, given what I’d heard Virnt say on the call, about the uptick in brain scans. If there was one privacy law I needed to lobby for, it was that memory transcripts couldn’t be sold and data-mined. I wished I’d seen this coming in my first lifetime, and gotten ahead of it…but how could I?
I ran through what I’d learned about Sulean culture to myself; most of the current SC members weren’t part of the original dozen who voted to attempt diplomacy with us. Jild was an unusual world, creating both the Suleans and the Iftalis. Aliens likely were simple for them to bond with, since they were close to a sapient species other than themselves by default. I tried to imagine how humanity would’ve differed if we’d had non-human intelligence native to Earth, and our paths crossed throughout history. Unfortunately, I believed most Terrans from the past would’ve tried to conquer them, rather than opening trade and living side-by-side as the Sulean-Iftali citizens did. Tribalism had made us desapientize our own kind, though I prided myself that we’d come so far from historical atrocities.
The wheel of progress turns much too slowly, as we can see from the less-than-desirable outcomes across the galaxy, but the important part is that it turns. I always wanted to move humanity forward, even if it was a gain of mere inches. That would’ve been…it was worth any sacrifice, to me.
The Sulean reared back on two legs, waving a hoof at me. “Hello! Over here.”
I donned a cautious smile, taking care not to show my teeth even with SC allies. “As you well know, I’m Elias Meier. And you are?”
“Syba. I became a diplomat because of you, you know—you stopped at nothing to protect your people, and never gave up on peace. It must’ve seemed impossible to you, but you didn’t! Actually, you were one of my heroes growing up, sir; it’s made my year to travel with you.”
“No need to call me sir, Syba. We humans have a saying: never meet your heroes.”
“You won’t disappoint me, Mr. Elias. The fact that you’re even worried about that shows you’re exactly who I thought you were! It’s me who should be concerned about not living up to your legacy.”
I waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. Aren’t Sulean diplomats the ones who persuaded lots of former neutral parties back during the war?”
“Including the Duerten, who ran what was then known as the Duerten Shield. They were very rude and unpleasant at first; you’re lucky to have met Korajan and not their first ‘diplomats.’” Syba tossed her antlerless head, revealing the black-and-white stripes continuing down her neck. “Suleans were making calls almost nonstop, all because we wanted to stand with our Iftali kin. Finding out they used to be omnivores…we wouldn’t turn on them, so why should we condemn you? We had to get allies and stop the Federation.”
“You were unsung heroes for that, Syba. Getting the Shield on our side is what turned the Battle of Aafa…not to mention that your efforts brought in dozens of our SC allies. Diplomacy won the war as much as guns, and it’s a shame Suleans’ contributions have been overlooked.”
“Clearly, they haven’t been forgotten, since we were invited on your expedition! It’s time to soften up the Shield and neutrals all over again, since we wrote the manual on how to do it the first time. Plus, who I am might lower their guard.”
“Who are you, exactly?” I asked, as I ambled toward the waiting shuttle. “Should I be concerned? The kind of thing that might ‘lower the Shield’s guard’ could be five-time Exterminator of the Month.”
“No, silly!” Syba chuckled, headbutting me playfully; I hoped she hadn’t hurt herself, not expecting the immovable metal skeleton beneath the faux flesh. “My dad is Vynle, the talk show host. One of the most famous in the Federation, before the war. He was popular with humans too, by the end, because of a few clips. I shouldn’t have expected you to know, since you weren’t alive when he would’ve been known on Earth.”
“So you’re hoping you can unruffle some feathers when Shield diplomats have that moment of, ‘Oh, you’re Vynle’s kid?’ It’s not a bad play, having a bit of an in-roads with them. But if he became popular with humans, would they…hold that against him?”
“Well, no. Long story, but his old shows remain very popular in ‘no predators allowed’ territory. Let’s just say Dad was very critical of you at first, and they like the jokes he made at your expense. There’s some wild conspiracies out there. Like that humans coerced him into siding with them, once they got to Jild—you’re predators that know the value of propaganda, after all. It couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“What is the truth, Syba?”
“The studio told him not to bring on his first human guest, due to liability concerns. The audience usually…stamps their hooves and cheers to welcome celebrity visitors, but there were mostly gasps and panic when a real-life predator came out. A lot of the live spectators fled, almost stampeding. Dad told me he felt sick sitting across from…Manny, I think the guy’s name was…during that first interview, but he covered it up well—asking fluff questions and ice breakers, like with anyone else.”
“I’m old enough to remember Manny Griffin. Is that why Vynle’s show caught on with humans? Because he welcomed our celebrities?”
Syba chuckled. “Not quite. Dad became an internet sensation here because he kept insulting you, even after his opinion on you turned. One of the most famous clips is him screaming at the camera, ‘What even is an appendix?’, before launching into a lengthy tirade. There was another where he said that mascot costumes were ‘more horrifying than your actual faces.’ Also the time where he held up a picture of a Terran in a ski mask, and said they were doing Veln’s visor law wrong. ‘Nobody wants to see your eyes. Haven’t you got the message?!’”
“Okay, that’s actually pretty funny,” I chuckled. “I’ll have to look this up on the ride over.”
“Dad was relentless. Instead of backtracking after the omnivore reveal, he just doubled down and went after you harder. People thought he had a death wish, but it seems humans overall found it quite hilarious.”
“We like to laugh at ourselves. Sometimes, that’s all you can do.”
Syba bobbed her head enthusiastically. “That’s right! Dad retired a few years ago, but I learned a lot from him. The way Host Vynle would disarm people, it’s useful for diplomacy. I wound up talking to strangers for a living, just the same as him.”
“From what I’ve seen so far, we’re all better for it. I’m glad to have you with me on this mission. Your father should be proud.”
The Sulean threw her head back, prancing ahead of me excitedly. I smiled in spite of myself, letting myself enjoy the fact that interacting with friendly aliens was now part of humanity’s existence. Syba looked up to me, which had warmed me to my core to hear, so the last thing I wanted was to let her down. I couldn’t afford to be a shell of myself, failing to live up to the legacy the real Elias had created with his final breath. It was time to move the needle of progress forward, and to find a way to get the Shield to help out with a galaxy-spanning war once again.