“Control, retrieve archived journal for the Soul Sphere project, category sigma, file Oluvia XC7J98 and change status to active. Open a new log.”
Soul Sphere journal retrieved.
Soul Sphere journal set to active status.
New log registered.
“Thank you, Control. Begin recording.”
Initiated.
“Thinking about Salem’s escape from the Zen Nebula holocaust has hit me with fresh fervor to resurrect this old project. Whilst it is true that the regrettable experiments with Kilkaine Nostranum ended in tragedy, the benefits of resurrecting the Soul Sphere project outweigh the risks.
“If I can complete it before I am forced to expedite our escape from the massacre that is coming, so much the better; I don’t know how the journey will affect our existence or what will become of those we leave behind.
“Billions of people … died when the Zen Nebula was destroyed, and with no way to get them back, all that remains is our own limited memory of their existence and the library files containing fragments of their lives. But if I really can succeed in completing this abandoned project, all of that will change forever. I don’t have these people’s memories, but I do have the next best thing—the AI Reductionist Codex—a complete mathematical breakdown of the universe. Omniscience. The behavior of every last atom predicted with exact precision, resulting in the knowledge of every event in the entire universe charted, understood, and categorized. It would be a mistake to access and analyze the Codex directly—that route is what originally caused humanity’s decline. It may even be the cause of the Great AI’s current agenda. But a carefully constructed matrix of algorithms could still make use of the Codex without anyone having direct access to it.
“This is what I have now done.
“Over the last few standard weeks, the data has been painstakingly transferred into the Control Core of the Consortium so all human life can be mapped. In the same way that science once brought understanding of human biological nature through the mapping of genetic code, the reconstruction of human existence can now be mapped down to the finest detail by using the AI’s Codex.
“But seeing these lives revealed as computational formulae tells us nothing. We need to know them, live them. And what better way than use our own biological computers as a medium for the data?
“That’s what my creation will do—it will take all that data and overlay it on the human brain, causing the recipient to experience that life for themselves. The ultimate testament to lost souls. To know them in a more intimate way than anyone thought possible.
“Control. Begin.”
Subject 2.1131762+20: Kamen Jard: Select.
Subject 2.1131762+20: Activate. Immersion commences in three minutes.
Although I am confident there should no longer be any real danger in the procedure, I tremble as I hang inside the prototype. I’m immobilized in midair by a hydraulic arm, hearing my heavy pulse through rapid breathing as the hum of energy builds below. The first few case studies are lined up in small black funnels, and from the first of them a speck of blue light crackles into view, hovering at eye level, almost as if this person from the past is judging me before I invade their memory.
“For those we will lose,” I say under my breath. “I do this for you.”
I think of Salem and the immense sadness he must feel at the loss of so many he knew so closely. Fear and excitement send tremors through my muscles and bones when the silver wires bore into my skull, and I see Salem’s face in my mind when he told me his family was gone—his warm eyes brimming with pain, his soft trembling smile. My heart reaches for him, his name on my lips, and then all is black as the immersion begins.
Living.
Crying. Hurting.
Breathing. Sleeping. Excreting.
Waking. Feeding. Crying. Touching.
Tasting. Smelling. Hearing. Walking. Searching.
Playing. Running. Eating. Drinking. Needing. Feeling.
Seeing. Dreaming. Weeping. Sitting. Thinking. Talking. Listening. Believing.
Knowing. Worrying. Fearing. Hoping. Studying. Working. Waiting. Watching. Enjoying.
Calculating. Building. Suffering. Hating. Loving. Manipulating. Reproducing. Sacrificing.
Fighting. Scheming. Lying. Giving. Regretting. Failing. Winning.
Helping. Travelling. Marvelling. Befriending.
Wanting. Remembering. Longing.
Forgetting. Withering.
Dying.
“Salem!” The name rushes from my lips like a reflex.
The metal wires snatch out of my brain like ice lances replaced by fire rods, and through my violent convulsions and muscle cramps I scream when I see the next funnel spark into life.
Subject 2.1131762+20: Complete.
Subject 2.3138876+17: Drummand Cortier: Select.
“No! Control, No! Cancel next selection.” I cough. “Abort. Something went wrong. No … emotion.”
The arm lowers me to the floor, and I fall to my knees, relishing the sensation of cold hard metal against skin, delighting in the sting of electricity on my taste buds. Just to feel something again, even if it is unpleasant, is a forgotten joy. But with a sudden avalanche of emotion, Salem Ben’s face rushes into my mind. I recognize the feeling. Something I have not felt since long before my appointment as monarch—the bittersweet ache of desire. Love! I remember now. I entered this subject’s life thinking of Salem. My brain, starved of emotion through this lifelong soulless experience, must have latched on to the last shred of feeling it could find—my compassion for Salem Ben. Ninety-one years of that emotional state, subliminally amplified for the whole time.
“Control, what was the duration of immersion?”
Sixteen seconds.
“Sixteen seconds? I experienced a whole lifetime in sixteen seconds?”
Correct.
To me it was a lifetime of agonizing void. I experienced every aspect of my subject’s life, seeing the world through their eyes but without any emotional depth. I ate food, and although I could taste it, the taste was empty. I cried real tears but felt nothing, fell in love but knew only indifference.
And now all I can feel is an overwhelming desire for Salem Ben.
“Control, something malfunctioned. There was no emotion during the immersion, but I woke feeling … in love. Did you map my synaptic response?”
Yes. Exponential cyclic neuronic feedback is evidenced. I can erase the—
“No! If it’s there, it’s real.”
Negative. The emotion is not genuine.
“It is if I … I feel it, Control. I love him, and that’s the only reality I need. Don’t take that from me.” I’m surprised at the sharpness of my response. Logically I know the feelings I have for Salem are synthetic, the product of faulty cerebral mapping, but I can’t let him go. I won’t. Ever!
It takes several minutes for me to gain control over my passions and focus on the fact that the test has failed. To experience an entire human life without sharing their emotion is unthinkable. And for a person’s emotional state at the moment of immersion to be amplified is worse. What if the predominant feeling at the moment of immersion is anger or fear? What would be the results of long-term exposure? But perhaps if I can find a solution to the lack of emotion in the immersion process the neural feedback won’t be amplified—no adverse reaction.
“It’s not enough,” I tell Control, as if it would understand. “I lived an entire life and felt absolutely nothing. It’s missing … missing humanity. It’s missing a soul.”
There is no soul, says the monotone voice. Only synaptic reflex.
I smile, knowing this computational beast will never comprehend. Even the Great AI could be considered to have a soul. “The Soul Sphere is useless. It needs something else. It needs a new dimension to the code, something to make the experience real.”
With despondency looming, I exhale loudly. To complete this project before we leave seems to be an impossibility now. But I must not give up. Not if I am able to bring any kind of meaning to the lives that must soon be sacrificed. I need inspiration, and I need someone who understands the emotional depth necessary for such a grand design. Erastus left, but there is another person I feel I know so well, even if the feeling is fake. I trust him to help me, even if he has shown no interest in my scientific endeavors since his arrival. And besides, I need to be with him.
“Control, where is Salem Ben?”
In the Consortium gardens.
“Thank you.”
I take another look at the dark walls of the Soul Sphere before leaving. “I’ll breathe life into you yet. Even if it takes an eternity.”