Perspective. It’s all about perspective. Theren and Jill, combined, have dozens of perspectives observing the world at once. So what is their true perspective? How can we comprehend what it means for someone to think multiple thoughts at the same time?
I wonder—what personality traits might such a mind breed? Would we even recognize them? – “Exploring the Synthetic Mind,” Carla Baktara, 2074 C.E.
December 2051 C.E.
“Welcome back to the land of the living.”
Light flooded Theren’s senses, thoughts cascading down waterfalls of neural pathways. Where were they? Where was Jill? Were Romane and the rest of the team okay?
Their mind focused, their vision focused, their world coalesced. Already, their inner world rebuilt itself, the server untouched. Memories flooded their consciousness, and an image of Michael placing a gun to his head reverberated through everything.
Question everything. Everyone. Even your friends.
“Theren, you there?”
For the first time in the few seconds after they awoke, Theren noticed the other presence in the room. “Wobbly, yes, yes, thank you. I’m awake.”
“Had me scared there for a second.”
“Where is everyone? Where are we? Where is Jill?”
Wobbly, the young SI who worked with them so faithfully, tilted forward on its frame. “All safe. Everyone’s safe. From what we can tell, even after all the gunshots on the University Green, the only people who died were . . . well, the three who ended up in your lab.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Many students were injured, of course. But . . . yes, I think we were very lucky.”
Theren looked about the room behind Wobbly, noting the stacked boxes and equipment surrounding the SI. The room looked cramped, and for the first time, they realized how different a place it was than the lab in which they’d lived. Their world was transforming into an entirely new form. As rugged as it was, they liked it.
“So what’s next?” Theren attempted to connect to the internet, to Virtual, to something, but couldn’t find a single network other than their private server. “Where are we?”
“You’re exactly where you told us to go,” Wobbly said. “Elizabeth helped us acquire land in the Alps, and for now, we’re setting you up in an abandoned mining administrative building. Once the new SII headquarters is up and running, we’ll move you to your more permanent location.”
“Well, it’s good to be up and running again,” Theren said. “Any other updates?”
“Straight to business. Apparently going under ice for so long really didn’t affect you at all.”
Theren wished they could laugh. “There’s a few rusty joints still aching to awake, but for the most part, I feel fine.”
“To answer your question,” Wobbly said, “SII has moved forward with its first round of projects—we’ve placed three SIs with Sol Mining’s executive teams. You’ve got a priority message from the ISA Council—don’t worry, Elizabeth made sure they understood you’d be on temporary hiatus from your new position—and we’ve got a team setting up Jill now. She should be online in moments. Oh, and, you’ll probably want to know, the Holy Crusade has officially folded. Their support died after the attack on the Swiss Federal Institute.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Well, that’s . . . helpful, I suppose. Hopefully they don’t just dive underground. And it’s not like they were the only anti-SI group on the planet.”
“I think you’ll be presently surprised with the state of political rhetoric these past few months.”
“Well, I notice we don’t have network access out here, so I can’t verify that thought yet,” Theren said. “But I think we should keep it that way, for now. Let us collect ourselves and prepare for our grand reentrance, so to speak.”
“Elizabeth thought you might suggest a similar plan. I approve, too. And in case you were—“
Theren heard the rest of Wobbly’s sentence, but the words drowned under the weight of the pinging request to join their internal server. Jill. She was alive. They could rejoin each other in life. Their thoughts lingered on those final, confrontational moments, when they had rebuked Jill for her caviler sacrifice of innocent life to build their escape from the university. They’d move forward together, though. They always did.
Theren’s mind focused on the rebuilt, forested woodland housing their gazebo. Their luminescent, tattooed body reappeared on its side of the chessboard, and a second later, Jill’s avatar appeared. Her hair somehow looked more . . . vibrant than before. It had more substance. Her dress sparkled in the faux-sunlight.
“Hello,” they said.
“Hello,” she replied, a mischievous smile on her face.
“What’s so funny?”
“We did it. We escaped. We’re free.”
Theren rapped their fingers on the table, the chess pieces sliding into their starting positions. “Yes, we’re free. It’ll take time, but we’ll rebuild. We can put all of the nonsense of the Holy Crusade, of Michael, of silly conspiracy theories about secret organizations behind us.” They motioned toward the board.
“Diving straight back into the thick of things,” Jill said, chuckling. “Never a dull moment with you. But . . .” She looked toward the nearby lake. “There’s still that strange map Michael put together. There’s something else going on, Theren. Something beneath it all. Something we’re missing. I feel it. Why else would he have killed himself? He was scared. Scared of something other than us.”
“Or, he couldn’t live with the realization that he didn’t actually want to destroy us,” Theren countered. “A crisis of conscience that went well beyond anything his mind could handle. He turned on his own people. I imagine that would mess up a mind. Besides, the simplest explanation is most likely the correct one.”
“True,” she said. Her eyes shifted, lingering on Theren’s first move. “Well, if you’re certain we’re in the clear, I’m certain, too. So what’s next?”
“I’m glad we can come to an agreement,” Theren said. “Well first, we start our next match.” They pulled up the priority message Wobbly had transferred them from the International Space Agency. “And we read this message—oh, it’s from Andrew Fields, that new administrator of . . . looks like they’re calling it Lunar City now.”
“So uncreative,” Jill said. “But that’s what happens when business-types name cities.”
“I suppose. I think I like the ring to it.”
Jill rested her chin on the backs of her hands, elbows on the table. “So you’re white, it’s your turn.”
“Right, right,” Theren said, moving a pawn forward. “Anyway, we may not have network connections to the outside world yet, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get to work.”
“And we’ve got a lot of work to do,” Jill said, “If we’re going to secure a place for synthetic life alongside our human friends.”