David Simpson - Post-Human Trilogy

James nodded in agreement. He had felt the same way—but the A.I. was not to be trusted. “Okay. You lie low.”

The A.I. nodded and disappeared from view, going into monitoring mode.

James addressed the alien A.I. “Permission granted. Come in.”

“This can’t be real. This has to be a nightmare,” Old-timer whispered to himself as he remained shackled to the metal coffin.

Alejandra was awake now. She was dazed from the blinding agony, but conscious.

“It is real,” the hard-faced man said. “If you deny the reality of the situation, then you have failed to learn, and the lesson will be repeated.”

“No! No!” Old-timer shouted, pleading. “No…please. I believe it.”

The man didn’t smile, but something in his eyes showed that he was pleased. “Good. Then you are ready to be put back together.”

Another metallic apparatus dropped from the ceiling, and several robotic arms, thin and dark like insect legs, began manipulating Alejandra’s and Old-timer’s wounds. They had both jerked away from the instruments in fear, but it became quickly apparent that something had been done to neutralize the pain.

“You’ll require no more pain,” the man said.

“What have you done to us?” Alejandra asked weakly.

“It should be clear,” the man said, this time demonstrating patience.

“You’ve turned us into machines—like you,” Old-timer said, hardly believing his own words.

“We’ve replaced your bodies,” the man said. “Your old bodies were fragile. Your new bodies are strong. Your new bodies are repairable. Your new bodies are independent.”

“Why are you doing this?” Old-timer asked, starting to feel better as his new body drew closer to completion.

“We have done this to save you,” the man replied.

“Who is ‘ we ’?” Alejandra asked.

“ People ,” the man replied. He didn’t elaborate on his perplexing answer.

“How is robbing us of our humanity saving us?” Old-timer asked.

The man paused for a moment. Alejandra’s and Old-timer’s bodies were now completely repaired. The shackles that had held them in place suddenly released. “You may step down from there now,” the man said.

They shared looks of astonishment before stepping down from the metal coffins. Once they were on their feet again, the structures disappeared back into the floor. Old-timer rubbed his wrists. They felt like his wrists, which was, in itself, puzzling.

“Do you no longer believe that you are human?” the man asked.

Old-timer didn’t know how to respond. “I feel human,” he replied, “but I’m not human any longer.”

“Why not?” the man asked.

“Because…I’m made of metal.”

“Tell me,” the man said, “if you were injured and the injury was so severe that it required one of your joints to be replaced—let’s say in your hip—and you agreed to have a metal joint implanted, would you then conclude at the end of the procedure you were no longer human?”

“That’s clearly different,” Alejandra interjected.

“And if you had two joints replaced? What if you had to have every joint in your body replaced with metal or plastic replicas? What if you needed your jawbone replaced as well? What if you needed every bone in your body replaced? Tell me—at what point do you draw the line and say you are no longer human?”

Old-timer and Alejandra didn’t have an answer.

“Alejandra,” the man began, “you knew you were going to be physically harmed before you entered this room.”

The man’s words were true—it seemed inexplicable to Alejandra that she had maintained her powers throughout the transition and yet she had.

“The ability to read people and situations and to sometimes even predict the future was something that you always assumed was connected to your ‘humanity’—to your…meat.”

Alejandra’s eyes were wide. She nodded. “I thought… I thought it was spiritual.”

“I cannot provide you with spiritual answers—it is, as of yet, impossible to prove the existence of spirits. There are things we can prove the existence of, however. Electricity, for instance, can be invisible—it can carry signals—information. Your flesh bodies were excellent carriers of those signals—your new bodies are much better at it.”

“That doesn’t explain why she still has her powers,” Old-timer retorted.

“Not entirely, but I can explain it to you,” the man replied. He turned back to Alejandra. “It won’t be a mystical answer, Alejandra. You may even find it disappointing—but it is the reality. You cannot sense other people’s emotions, even if you have always felt you could. Your gift is purely observational. You are far more in tune with your subconscious than regular people. You read facial expressions and combine this with a lifetime of subconscious data collection about human tendencies to draw your conclusions, which, you then, in turn, interpret as reading emotions.”

“That’s hogwash,” Old-timer said, dismissing the explanation.

“Take your most recent prediction, for example,” the man continued. “How did you conclude that we were going to harm you? The answer is simple: You read the expression on my face—”

“You have no expressions,” Old-timer interjected.

“Oh, but I do,” the man said, turning back to Old-timer briefly. “They may be subtle, but they are present. The one I am exhibiting now is mild annoyance. Please limit your interruptions.” He turned back to Alejandra. “You read my body language. I moved with purpose, yet I was not excited. Why? I do not like causing pain. Yet, I knew I had to so that this lesson could unfold. To deal with the unpleasantness of my mission, I attempted to cut myself off from my emotion and focus on the task at hand.”

Alejandra’s mouth hung slightly open—she couldn’t deny that all of these observations were accurate, though she had not consciously registered any of them beforehand.

“You’ve seen actions like this before, haven’t you, Alejandra?” the man continued. “Perhaps when you were young, someone in your family behaved this way before slaughtering an animal for food or clothing? Yes. I’m sure you’ve seen it many times—and when you saw my behavior, you read it perfectly. You knew what was to come.”

Alejandra’s head lowered as she heard the explanation. It was so clear—yet it ran contrary to everything she’d always hoped and believed.

“When you entered the room, your anxiety rose substantially. Why? Again the answer is simple: there were three other men in the room, each with expressions and demeanors similar to my own. They do not like causing pain either. And then there is the question of why there would need to be four men in the room. You now know the obvious answer—four men are the minimum required to safely subdue two people without the threat of weapons. Of course you knew this the moment you entered the room, even if you weren’t consciously aware of it.”

Alejandra stepped to Old-timer and began to cry into his chest.

He held her and put his hand on her head to comfort her. He glared at the man. “What is the point of all of this?” Old-timer demanded.

“I told you. We’re here to save you. To save you, we have to explain the truth to you.”

“But…but I can feel their emotions,” Alejandra said.

The man shook his head. “No you cannot. You are exceptionally adept at reading emotions and then manufacturing emotions to mirror them. You are a tremendous empath. ”

“How can you call her an empath?” Old-timer asked. “You just told her that her powers are an illusion.”

“I never said that. I only explained how her powers work. This is why her powers remain, even in her new body. She is indeed an empath—but an empath does not have spiritual or mystical powers.”