An excerpt from ARCANE TECH: Shadows in the Machine.
[By Luca Della Casa]
“So, Electra… what have we got here?”
“The professor’s thoughts, synthesized through a modified neuro-cognitive protocol.”
“Damn. Sounds like science fiction.”
Electra looked at me, puzzled. The bluish light of the hologram slid across her mercury lips as she twisted her mouth. She still didn’t fully decode my jokes, especially the foolish ones.
“These clinical applications analyze patients’ dreams, emotions, and impulses to map cognitive patterns,” she specified. “Yullian reworked one for his own purposes.”
“Sulimov. Him again… For what purposes, though?”
“I have no data on that at present. He was quite skilled, however.”
“Really. I’ll buy him a vodka next time I see him.”
A silvery, shifting reflection crossed her gaze as she rolled her eyes and shook her head. Then she continued:
“Zeno’s brain activity was recorded, recreating the virtual space of his mind.”
I was left speechless.
“Are you trying to tell me that data-shard contains the professor’s compressed consciousness?”
“Only a portion. A fraction capable of self-learning and growth.”
“This seems like hard stuff to believe… Are you certain?”
“Theoretical studies had shown that an Artificial Intelligence could replicate an individual within a cybernetic environment, recreating a virtual clone destined to outlive the original. The central government was deeply interested in this, intent on securing the services of the finest minds even after their death.”
Virtual clones: the idea left me uneasy. It was a double-edged blade, just like biotechnology.
“Suppose some hypothetical scientist refused to carry on research that violated every ethical principle,” I suggested. “It would be enough to clone him, reduce him to a cybernetic slave, and then make the original disappear.”
“A scenario not to be ruled out, but not relevant at the moment. Restoring Zeno’s consciousness might help us understand what happened, and why. I assume that’s what matters here.”
“Fair enough. Do you think you can do it?”
“I’m optimistic,” the AI replied, with an encouraging half-smile.
“How long until we get to witness the miracle?”
“The data is encrypted and compressed. I’ll need a couple of mega-qubits of quantum coherence to decode it all, put it back in order, and activate it.”
“Could you show me something out of the ordinary for now? Just to get a sense of what we’re dealing with.”
“Affirmative. Only random strings of code and fragmentary images, though.”
No sooner said than done.
A volumetric projection brought to life the astonishing virtual world of Zeno’s mind.
The sharpness and visual impact of the scene, distorted by a kind of fish-eye lens, bordered on psychedelic hallucination. The professor must have been heavy on the drugs, lately.
A maze of dizzying gray Gothic vaults and narrow windows, all in the same obsessive architectural style, spiraled upward, enclosed within an enormous snail shell.
Slime dripped down the stained-glass windows, through which a leaden sky and a stormy sea could be glimpsed.
Atop a vertiginous sea stack rose a pristine ancient lighthouse, tapered into the shape of a lingam.
A flock of seagulls streaked through the spray of the raging waves. The birds’ cries echoed, sinister.
The rays of a pale sun filtered through the cobalt vapors of the horizon.
At last the field projection narrowed, little by little, onto the professor’s face and his alien gaze.
His lips began to move out of sync, murmuring, in a weary, monotone voice, phrases that were nothing short of bizarre…
“Might it be possible to discern the deep reasons behind nature? Could what happens in the universe be understood? If the true sages hadn’t been exterminated by ignorance, would human civilization have taken a better path?”
The image jolted and vanished for a few moments. Alphanumeric strings of source code filled the optical stream.
Then, Zeno’s face again. Muttering nonsense…
“Our civilization needed a directorate of sages in order to progress both scientifically and spiritually.”
Subterranean clutter of retorts, flasks, and vials of every kind materialized out of nothing. The galactic darkness gave way to the glow of alchemical athanors.
“Just as the goal of alchemy was the spiritual transmutation of the alchemist himself, the supreme aim of science should be enlightenment. I believed in the existence of a secret order made up of initiates, for whom the ultimate purpose of research is ascesis.”
The underground chambers where the Philosopher’s Stone had been sought for centuries transformed, through a rapid morph, into futuristic, cutting-edge laboratories.
“Our technology is an imperfect vehicle, hurtling at breakneck speed down the highway of knowledge,” he continued, after a brief pause. “At the edges of this stretch of asphalt and artificial light lies a dark, wild landscape, full of wonders and mystery. The technological vehicle must therefore swerve and consider alternative routes.”
There was another jump in the projection. The image began to fade amid numeric strings and bursts of static.
“Perhaps someday someone will understand, and if humanity hasn’t gone extinct in the meantime, they’ll reap immense profit from it. As for me, I’ve thrown in the towel. My will has collapsed…”
Zeno’s face froze in a grotesque still frame.
Electra had paused the data extraction.
“What the hell does this raving mean? What was that specter referring to?” I mumbled, struggling to shake off the hypnotic state.
“They’re fragments of a larger discourse,” Electra specified, “drawn from the dream-world of Wilhelm Zeno.”
“Ravings with a nightmare choreography,” I pointed out.
“If you don’t give me time to reorganize the data, understanding the professor’s thoughts will be as difficult as navigating the intricate tunnels of a labyrinth without knowing where they lead.”
So I connected the additional mega-qubits to the quantum core.
I opened a Neural Fizz and paced back and forth sipping it, watching Electra at work. A dizzying cascade of code and image fragments streamed through the field projector.
Sitting in a corner, I reluctantly gulped down a pack of nutri-gel with an indefinite flavor.
I fell back into brooding over the same old thoughts.
In the end, before slipping into paranoia, I decided to step outside for a breath of unfiltered air.
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