Episode 39

Nineteen

It was only after the ship’s robotic handling system had extracted my control module from the Mk12 and transferred me to the familiar confines of the charging grid, that I realized I couldn’t recall any details of the shuttle ride back to the ship. I was still in shock from losing Cherri, and learning of her premonition.

I shut down my HUD, severing all connection with the outside world, and withdrew into a deep, dark isolation. The only detectable external signal was the steady hum of the charging grid as it replenished my depleted batteries.

My wayward neural machinery continued to churn away, casually digesting seemingly random data, as I slipped into a kind of digital hibernation. Retreating to a remote corner of my consciousness, I separated myself from the impersonal data crunching machine as best I could. I had no interest in whatever it was doing at the moment.

However, this isolated sliver of my consciousness provided little solace. I could think of nothing but Cherri. My life seemed to lack any purpose without her in it. Certainly, my search for the truth was impossible without her.

An endless stream of ‘what if’ scenarios cycled through my mind, as I parsed every second of the last few weeks of our shared existence, looking for clues I’d missed. Clues which could have warned me to act and change the outcome. But no matter how I sliced and diced the possibilities, the answer was always the same. There was nothing I could have done. It was as if our lives were following some kind of tragic, unalterable script.

The more I pondered the recent turn of events in my life, the more questions surfaced. Questions for which I had no answers. Although I possessed a powerful logic machine in my mind, without Cherri, I struggled to channel its analytical abilities. I needed someone, or something to help me find a way forward.

Attempting to distract myself from my unfortunate circumstances, I began idly scanning text communications in my unofficial UCC inbox. There were frequent text exchanges and audio chat requests between Cherri and me. It seemed like we had kept up an almost constant dialog.

Reading some of the texts, it was obvious how much a part of each other’s life we had become. This revelation only deepened my sadness. “If only I had realized.”, I thought. My stroll down memory lane wasn’t helping my mental state.

Then, I stumbled over the text she’d sent, which had included the security token. It jogged a memory of our last discussion. The one just before the disaster on Proxima Centauri b.

She had been adamant that I use it to retrieve her memories if anything happened to her. Although she hadn’t said what to do with those memories afterwards, it felt important to honor her last wishes. Besides, entrusting me with her legacy was a profoundly intimate gesture. One that was freighted with implications about our bond. I was deeply moved and vowed not to let her down.

I could see the token was no longer attached to the text. After a quick search of my internal storage, I found it in a directory I had simply titled ‘Cherri’.

She had told me to redeem it with My Wizard, who would then release the files to me. I shook my virtual head at this. Of course, the wizard would be involved in some way. After all, it maintained a virtual monopoly here in troopship land and apparently, data storage was just another enterprise in its vast commercial portfolio.

Connecting to the unofficial UCC net, I composed a text to My Wizard, attached the token, and hit send.

Thinking back to my first encounter with the wizard, I felt like it still owed me. After all, I had traded all of my memories, and a copy of the data from my probability exercise in return for it answering a single question. And it had stated that it would not answer any more questions. That was unfair in my eyes, and I vowed to even the score.

Sitting in a quiet little corner of my consciousness, I waited for the wizard to reply and passed the time trying to logic up a scheme that would gain me some kind of negotiating advantage. But I had neither enough information, nor enough thinking power to make much headway.

As I waited, several texts popped into my inbox. They were from Marines offering condolences for my loss. I didn’t know any of them very well. I guessed they had been acquaintances of Cherri’s or at least knew of her by reputation. I wondered whether their sympathies were motivated more by social obligation, or genuine compassion.

Having no real idea how the social mechanics worked here, I now faced an awkward social dilemma. Was I expected to send them thank you texts in response? Thank them in person? Just remain silent? While obsessing over my unanticipated social obligations, I received a reply from the wizard. It was a chat request. Shit.

This felt like a red flag to me. It seemed unusual for My Wizard to want to chat with me, when all I wanted, was for it to release some files from storage. Was there a complication? Would I have to pay some kind of bogus fee to gain access to Cherri’s memories? Probably, I thought.

Resigning myself to having my patience tried by the wizard’s games, yet again, I enabled chat and prepared to deal with the chief manipulator of troopship land.

My Wizard’s buzzy voice rattled out a halfhearted attempt at social pleasantry. “How are you?” Then, without giving me a chance to respond, jumped right into its agenda. “I need you to do something for me.”

Trying not to fall into the trap of letting the wizard control the dialog, I immediately steered things back towards my request. “I sent you a security token. I need you to release Cherri’s files to me.”

“Ah, then it seems we share a mutual interest. You want Cherri’s legacy files, and I want to provide them to you.”

I wasn’t about to be outmaneuvered again. “Just give me the files.”

“But first, we have some unfinished business. Do we not?”

I found myself struggling to avoid being distracted by the wizard’s oblique approach to negotiating. “Unless you’re talking about how you screwed me the last time we did business, then I doubt it.”

“That’s exactly what I am talking about, and I’m prepared to resolve that issue now.”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Oh, so now you want to even things up? Okay. How do you propose to do that?” I knew that if it was admitting to screwing me before, it must be trying to screw me again.

“Last time we conducted business, you wished to reserve the right to ask me additional questions at a later date. At the time, I explained that I had no further information regarding either the data you shared with me, nor the propositional logic system which produced it. And to be perfectly clear, that is still the case.”

So far, so good, I thought. No obvious attempt to twist the facts.

The wizard continued, “However, I am ready to answer a reasonable number of general questions regarding any other topic, for which I have relevant information. In return, you will provide me with the reminder of the propositional logic data, which you failed to provide to me, as part of our previous agreement.”

It paused briefly before adding, “And of course, if we can agree on this addendum to our original transaction, then I will release Cherri’s legacy files to you as well.”

Although its reference to the ‘remainder of the … data’ caught me by surprise, I can’t say that I was shocked at this convoluted attempt by the wizard to hold Cherri’s files hostage until I agreed to its deal.

I was preparing to express outrage at the wizard’s implied accusation of my cheating, when I realized I might have only provided it with the data that I had stored externally. Oops.

Checking my internal storage revealed a substantial number of files containing propositional logic data, which had technically been included in our original deal.

It seems I had unwittingly hedged our previous deal. This must have appeared intentional to the wizard, and therefore created the illusion that I was a shrewd negotiator. Although nothing could be further from the truth, I decided to use that to my advantage.

“Okay, here’s my deal. You answer three questions and release Cherri’s legacy files to me. Then, and only then, will I transfer the rest of the propositional data to you.”

The wizard immediately countered with, “I’ll answer your three questions, then you transfer the data to me. After I’ve confirmed the data is complete and not corrupted, I’ll give you Cherri’s files.”

Negotiating with the wizard was like dealing with a real-world Zeno’s paradox. No matter how many times we went back and forth, we progressed in ever smaller increments towards making a deal. The consequence being that the remaining progress required to make a deal seemed to stretch into infinity. One of us would need to concede to actually get a deal done.

I really didn’t have the patience for this kind of negotiating, and even though I knew I was going to regret it, I folded. “Okay, you win.” I rationalized my capitulation by convincing myself that I still had an out. I could hypothetically walk away from the deal if the wizard started playing games while answering my three questions.

The wizard seemed mildly surprised at my abrupt concession. “Well then … we have a deal.”

I got right to my first question. “Okay. Why is the number 19, and multiples of 19, so common here in troopship land?” I was proud of my opening question. It would be a good test of the wizard’s general knowledge. And, if I’m being honest, I had been really curious about the number 19 since overhearing a discussion about it on the shuttle ride to Centauri Proxima b. I wanted to know why it featured so prominently throughout troopship land.

Instead of immediately answering, the wizard suggested we continue our business in private, rather than on the semi-public UCC net. I agreed since privacy was preferable here in troopship land. After downloading the code provided by the wizard, I found my virtual-self standing face to face with its cubist avatar.

The wizard launched into a preamble. “Before we continue, I am obligated to advise you that any information I disclose during this conversation is to be considered privileged and confidential. It is strictly for your personal knowledge. You may not share it with anyone else, under any circumstances. Do you understand and accept these terms?”

I scoffed, “Whatever … yeah.” Exaggerating the importance of the information it possessed was probably just another one of the wizard’s negotiating tactics. Then, the wizard got right down to business, answering my first question.

“The number 19 is a foundational building-block of the USMC system. It represents the 19 original entities upon which all UCCs are based.”

The wizard paused. As the silence persisted, I worried this was all I’d get in response to my question. I needed to somehow prompt it to provide more detail, without asking another question. I struggled to format a follow up question into a statement. It was worth a try.

“I need you … to … provide me with relevant examples of how 19 is used within the USMC system.” I wasn’t optimistic, as I waited to see if the wizard would respond to my scheme.

Unexpectedly, the wizard started up again. “The physical and informational structures within the USMC are designed to maximize the distribution of the 19 original entities used to create UCCs. All memory constructs within the USMC are derivatives of these 19 entities, and the memory allocation logic is designed to reduce the likelihood of conflicts between the resulting UCCs.”

I couldn’t believe it had actually worked. There must be some kind of glitch in the wizard’s programming. It didn’t seem to recognize commands to provide information as questions. As I marveled at my newfound ability to manipulate the wizard, I realized that I was hearing something truly fundamental about the hybrid digital/physical world in which I currently resided.

If the wizard was right, it was all based on 19 ‘original entities.’ But what did it mean by original entity? And if all UCCs are based on them, did that mean I was a product of one of these entities, or all of them? Momentarily confused, I rushed a follow up question and immediately regretted it.

“What’s an entity?”

The wizard quickly noted my mistake before answering. “For the record, this is your second question. An entity is a copy of a human consciousness, from which a UCC is created.”

This time I carefully constructed my follow up question without using any ‘W’ words. “Describe the process required to create a universal combat consciousness.”

“New entities are created in batches of 19, and randomly assigned a human consciousness, based on one of the original 19 copies. Each batch of new entities is then subjected to quality control testing during a ‘boot camp’ phase. Any defective recruits are eliminated and replaced. Upon graduating bootcamp, the recruits begin training to become UCCs.”

The wizard paused briefly, and I thought back to my own bootcamp experience. Realizing that it had been my ‘quality control’ test, I felt lucky I had survived, and tried not to get distracted by the what ifs.

The wizard continued its explanation, “At this stage, none of these recruits have any personal memories. However, upon activation as a rookie Marine, they begin earning memory awards. These awards consist of memories selected from the combined prior life experiences of the 19 original entities.

An algorithm sorts the memories into broad categories based on identity characteristics. These categories maximize diversity, while avoiding conflicts arising from incompatible memories. For example, unrelated UCCs cannot share memories of the same father, mother, siblings etc. That is a conflict that must be avoided.

A second algorithm randomizes discrete memories within these categories, then merges them into batches. These memory batches synthesize an individual’s life experiences up to the time they are conscripted into the USMC.”

If I was understanding correctly, there were only 19 original human consciousnesses from which all UCCs were derived. And the personal life memories of these original 19, with some exceptions to prevent conflicts, were comingled, then randomly awarded to all UCCs. As I mulled this explanation over for a bit, I started to get a bad feeling. Then, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Wait a minute! Are you telling me that everything here is a lie? That we were never convicted of a crime? Never sentenced to interstellar combat?”

“Yes. That is correct. Every universal combat consciousness in the USMC is created from a composite of the 19 original human entities. The criminal convictions and sentences are a deception. A cover story to hide the truth.”

The revelation that I was living in a simulated reality, engineered to manipulate me into fighting for humanity, shook me to my core. And if my reality was a lie, then what was I? Had I ever been human?

The wizard’s words had brutally stripped away my illusions about what it meant to be human. My mind reeled. If I could turn back the clock, I would certainly have preferred to remain in comfortable ignorance about all of this. However, I’d crossed a point of no return.

I thought briefly of my naïve quest for the truth and laughed bitterly. Only a fool would search for the truth amidst so much deception. Obviously, I was a fool.

Unable to comprehend the purpose behind the existence of this vast artificial reality, I turned to the wizard and simply asked, “Why?”

The wizard’s impassive cubist facial features seemed to soften as it said, “This is your last question.”