David Simpson - Post-Human Trilogy

“Daniella. Yes,” Craig replied, smiling.

“Say hello to her, will you? And thank her again for saving my life.”

“Will do. She sends her regards, by the way, as well as her thanks for getting me out of the house.”

Aldous laughed warmly again. “It’s my pleasure. When I saw your request for assignment, I took care of it personally. We’ve got a plum position to offer you.”

“Ah, I don’t know about that. I’m brand new. I don’t have much to offer in return.”

“Nonsense,” Aldous countered. “You’re exactly the man I need for this assignment. After all, you were the one who chose terraforming as your area of interest, and I need someone with your life experience to help guide the young genius who’s in charge of the project.”

“A genius? Guide?” Craig shook his head. “How am I supposed to guide a genius?”

“He’s a hot-head,” Aldous replied, sighing. “I both love him and hate him, Craig.”

“You’re not exactly selling it.”

Aldous looked up and smiled. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should be. He is brilliant, Craig, on a scale we’ve never seen before. His brain is completely natural—a mutation no one engineered. He’s a savant without any of the handicaps that usually accompany such talents. He’s synesthetic—capable of profound mathematical, spacial, and linguistic thinking. I’ve seen him master a new language in days. He has all of Shakespeare memorized verbatim, right down to the punctuation marks. He knows all the constellations and the positions of the stars and where they should be at a given time of night at a given time of the year. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. In some ways, his intelligence outstrips even that of the A.I.’s mother program.”

“That’s amazing,” Craig replied, shaking his head.

Aldous nodded before adding with a shrug, “He and I have trouble getting along though. He wants to be unfettered—to work without limitations.”

“Sounds like another genius I know,” Craig noted.

Aldous grinned briefly. “Thank you, my friend, but his desire for freedom could one day develop into a serious concern. This is just the sort of fellow who could, without limits, independently stumble upon the secret of Planck technology. His mind is so creative. The A.I. has to keep him preoccupied in other, safer areas of research.” Aldous looked into Craig’s eyes, reading the thoughts that were so obviously running through his mind. “Ironic, I know. I’ve calmed down over the years. What I’d like you to do is help this young man see that immortality means the future is long. He needs to understand that he can afford to be cautious.”

“Whatever happened to the Planck technology? Have we had any visits from outside our universe?”

“No, though it’s almost a certainty that someone from another universe is using it to cross into pre-WWIII universes, where the technology to detect a transgression hasn’t yet been developed. The A.I. constantly monitors the solar system for any breaches of the Planck energy.

“And?”

“So far, so good.” Aldous leaned forward. “Craig, that technology should never have been developed . It was a mistake. I’m experienced enough to realize that now. I’m not sure I could say the same about James Keats.”

Craig’s eyes narrowed. “That’s this young man’s name?”

“Yes. I’ve arranged for you to meet him, as soon as we’re finished here.”

“I can’t wait. It sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

Aldous nodded, his smile fading as his expression became pensive. He turned his chair slightly and regarded the spectacular view from his windows. The city of Seattle, rebuilt and vibrant, hummed in front of him. Post-humans flew over the cityscape, encapsulated in their green cocoons, guided by the A.I. to their destinations.

“This is a world we both fought hard for, Craig…and we lost a lot in the process.”

Craig shifted in his chair and nodded politely. He’d hoped the conversation wouldn’t turn to dark reminiscing. “Yes, we did.”

“Do you think it was worth it? Is the world we built good enough?”

Craig nodded. “Absolutely. It’s impressive. You deserve a lot of credit, Aldous.”

Aldous smiled broadly, Craig’s words seemingly soothing the burden the chief carried with him daily as the architect most responsible for their civilization as it now stood. It was somehow a relief for Craig to see that even great men had self-doubt.

“Thank you, my friend,” Aldous said. His expression shifted back to curiosity. “And what about the Purists? Do you think we’ve handled that problem correctly?”

“Gosh. I haven’t thought about them in years. I don’t think there is a correct way, unfortunately,” Craig replied. “Appropriately, yes. Giving them their own land where they can express their beliefs freely seems like the only possible solution.”

Aldous nodded, the satisfied smile returning. “Good. Good.”

An awkward silence ensued. “So, shall I head out to meet this James Keats fellow now?” Craig asked, attempting to break the uneasy pause.

“There’s one more thing I need to discuss with you,” Aldous announced. This time, it was his turn to shift uncomfortably in his chair. “Well, really I need to show you. I’ve done something—something I should have told you about long ago. But I need to know before I show you that I can count on your complete discretion.”

Craig suddenly felt extraordinarily uncomfortable. He didn’t like the idea of being taken into Aldous’s confidence. Many years had passed—happy years spent with a wonderful woman and years that had softened his resentment toward the chief. That didn’t mean that he wanted to be friends, however. “I-I’m not sure—”

“It concerns you,” Aldous added. “I think it’s important for you to see.”

Craig settled back into his chair and exhaled deeply. “Okay. You can count on me to be discrete. What’s on your mind?”

“I am,” Samantha Gibson answered from behind him.

Craig jumped out of his chair, turning toward the voice and the figure to whom it belonged. Samantha Gibson, appearing just as she had in Craig’s fading memories, stood only meters away, her hair catching the fading light of the sunset.

“Sam?”

“Yes, Craig,” Samantha replied.

Craig stood dumbfounded for several moments before finally stuttering his way to asking, “How?”

“She’s a clone, Craig,” Aldous replied, “a partial resurrection.”

“Partial resurrection? What the hell is that?”

“This is not the woman you and I knew, Craig,” Aldous explained, standing and walking out from behind his desk. “Tragically, the Sam you and I knew was killed by Colonel Paine sixty-two years ago.” He crossed in front of Craig, continuing to talk as he joined the faux Samantha at her side. “However, I just couldn’t let her go . ”

“So you cloned her? How can this possibly be legal?”

Aldous shrugged. “There are benefits to being the chief.”

Craig was nearly flabbergasted for a moment before finally settling on a line of intelligible questions. “If she’s a clone and not the woman I was married to, then why bother telling me? Why dredge all this up? Do you know how painful this is? How painful those memories are?”

“I understand, Craig.”

“Do you?”

“I do. I loved her too.”

“Then why?”

“As I said, she’s a partial resurrection, something more than just a clone. With the A.I.’s help, we were able to insert memories—memories that had been taken from me, from others who knew Sam, and even from you.”

“Me?” Craig reacted, stunned.

“Yes. When the A.I. detached from your brain, it retained a picture—a sort of map of the architecture of your brain at that time. When we cloned Samantha, we included those memories.”