HARRY’S PENTHOUSE — HOBOKEN, NJ
THE DAY AFTER TOM SAVED HOPE FROM RON — 5 FEBRUARY 2035
After sharing his unsettling observations from Down Below with Harry in the lab, Tom traveled for many hours to reunite with his friend and partner in New York. When he entered Harry's office, he found him seated at his desk, eyes closed. Tom assumed Harry was likely accessing the Worldchain through his neural interface.
For the last few years, Tom had spent most of his time Down Below, but his physical body remained safe inside a pod in the Azores archipelago. He loved the isolation of the place, the simple life, and the distance from the media, politics, and intrusive eyes. He cherished the opportunity to walk along the ocean shore, savoring the pure, unpolluted air whenever he returned to the real world.
With the rise of digital consciousness changing everything, they had serious work to do and needed quality time to discuss their next steps. The physical travel was unnecessary, but Tom missed Quin, who was too young to become a traveler. Months had passed since Tom last saw Harry’s son, and being near Harry's family—the three individuals who anchored him to reality—was imperative.
Tom craved a home-cooked meal shared with his friends. He needed to hear the giggles of a beloved baby and the sassy offbeat jokes of his dearest June, always poking fun at Harry’s uber-dorkiness. He hoped that the perspectives of his friends would help him find a solution to the crisis.
And there was someone else, a dear one he wanted to protect. A face he wished to see lit by blue skies and sunshine. Tom craved his poet’s love as much as he needed his harshly spoken, unapologetic, unfiltered truth. He yearned to see the world through Nate's eyes, to understand his sharp judgments on Down Below's societal impact. His poet would provide a human-centered, emotionally connected view of the platform’s impact, unclouded by statistics or technology. Tom wanted to know how it felt to be alive in 2035. He was curious about living in a world designed by two white men and a machine.
Having both of Down Below's founders in the same physical location was risky. Yet, Tom had deliberately chosen the most obvious venue, betting that no one would expect such recklessness from him.
Years earlier, Harry had bought the condo next to his home using Tom’s fake identity. A hidden passage behind a bookshelf connected it directly to his office. Tom could get in and out without having to deal with Harry’s security and home staff.
While Tom found the condo too fancy and clinical, he appreciated that it was filled with things he loved—books, art, art materials, a piano, a telescope. A home designed by his beloved June, who had slotted into Tom and Harry’s lives like a much-needed missing cog in a high-precision clock.
Dropping his bag on the floor, Tom approached Harry’s desk. His friend opened his eyes and smiled. Harry shifted data onto a paper-thin screen floating over his desk, revealing the task that had likely occupied his thoughts. Tom placed a reassuring squeeze on Harry's shoulder and stood beside him, both men now focused on the floating screen.
“Did you find anything?” Tom had previously asked Harry to validate the consciousness status of the Underlings and to explore alternative ways to provide contrast Up Above.
“Extraordinary!” Harry exclaimed, his eyes locked onto the screen as he manipulated the data solely through mental commands. Information emerged and vanished before Tom could understand it.
“Slow down. You’re going too fast. A solution?” Tom leaned in, squinting to make sense of the jumble of words and numbers, but to no avail.
Harry shook his head. “I’m working on something else.”
The room hummed with the quiet sound of computers, underscored by the muffled noises of the world outside.
“What do you mean by that?” Despite their history, Harry's seemingly mindless insensitivity still caught Tom off guard.
“Bud, we have inadvertently discovered the path to immortality.” Harry's voice brimmed with excitement.
Frustrated, Tom turned and lightly bumped his forehead against the wall in disbelief.
“Harry, listen. The Underlings are in pain. I didn't travel from the Azores just to hear you sidestep the issue.”
“This is yuuge.” Harry still didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “Much more important.”
With a swift motion, Tom spun Harry's chair away from the desk to face him directly. Leaning in, he gripped the arms of the chair for emphasis. “Harry, do you understand what's at stake? Contrast is hurting a billion Underlings, and you are trying to fix death?”
“Just hear me out; you're going to love this,” Harry insisted, patting Tom's cheek before swiveling back toward the screen. “We've amassed an incredible amount of data from each traveler. Tons of data.”
“Yes?” Tom snapped, his stomach grumbling loudly. He suddenly realized that, between the stress and travel, he hadn’t eaten for at least a day.
“And now we have code that somehow has evolved to bring data to life. Simulated, unscripted life!” Harry looked over at Tom, expecting enthusiasm. Instead, he was met with a palpable sense of disappointment. “Don't you see?” Harry paused, searching Tom's face for a reaction. Finding none, he finally blurted out, “Human digital immortality.”
“Underlings die Down Below. We designed it like that.” Tom's jaw clenched as he spoke, struggling to keep his emotions in check. “They are dying now, in horrible ways, while you’re playing God.”
Unfazed, Harry flicked his gaze away from Tom. “Yeah, bud, I know. It’s my code—software designed to mimic human-like life, aging, and eventual death. I can change the rules, make them immortal. First, we need to test my hypothesis.”
“What are you even saying? Mortality is what makes us fundamentally human; it's the ultimate contrast.”
“We'll debate ethics later,” Harry dismissed.
“Don't you get it? We're not gods, Harry! We had a commitment, a promise—”
Harry interjected, “Do the math; there are 8.7 billion humans Up Above and nearly a billion entities Down Below.” Harry had forgone glasses for years but instinctively reached to adjust them, a telltale sign he was fully committed to his viewpoint.
“They’re not characters. They’re like…our children.”
“Oh, come on! It's hardly the same.”
“Is it not? I created those templates. All of them. We can’t just abandon them.”
“We’re not. I’m just prioritizing this problem first. A decision based on logic. Do the math.”
Tom clenched his jaw, clearly triggered by Harry's words. “I spent my youth watching my father manipulate numbers to bolster his corporate agenda. He'd sprinkle his arguments with convenient statistics to pad shareholder pockets, crafting an illusion of integrity while the world crumbled.”
“Oh, come on, Tom! You've been attributing human traits to things ever since we met. Sure, they display simulated feelings even when unobserved, and yes, they're developing nuanced behaviors like yearning and even faith. But let's be clear: they're not human. They're persistent, data-poor simulations.”
“They mirror us in more ways than you're willing to admit, Harry. They hate their own reality and long for something better. That's a form of suffering. Suffering implies consciousness.”
“You're letting emotions cloud your judgment.”
You’d be emotional too, if you had my life… Tom would never say those words out loud. He’d never punish his friend for his decisions. “I’m emotional?” he said instead. “People have two reasons for doing what they do—a good reason, and the real reason.” As he spoke, Tom picked up a framed photo of June and Quin from the desk, immediately regretting the gesture, but unable to take it back.
“And what’s wrong with that? Do you want them to die?”
“You know how much I love them.”
Finally tearing his eyes from the screen, Harry stood and faced Tom, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I do know, and I'm sahrry.” He paused, likely formulating his next argument. “Think about our parents, my sister. If this technology had been available, we wouldn't have had to lose them.”
“My mother chose her fate,” Tom countered, stepping away and breaking the physical contact with Harry.
“A decision born from a moment of despair,” Harry added.
“We have to respect people's choices,” Tom caught himself absentmindedly massaging his right wrist.
“Respect? No, we do not! Ninety percent of those who survive a suicide attempt don't try again. And, not every death is a deliberate choice, is it?” Harry's words bore an assertive finality.
Tom looked at him, his heart aching. “I’m truly sorry, Harry.” Both of them were scarred by irreplaceable losses, wounds that never fully healed.
“Tom, look at me. I don’t wanna lose anybody else—Quin, June, you.” Harry sounded uncharacteristically nervous.
“I get it,” Tom replied, locking eyes with his friend. “But we're supposed to make these decisions together.”
“We do, buddy. Listen, I’m sahrry. Setting up the experiment will only take a couple of hours, but we'll need to let it run for at least six months for thorough testing. Can you give me that time?”
“Two hours?” Tom echoed.
Behind Harry, the office wall was adorned with accolades: awards, degrees, and patents that attested to his intellectual prowess.
“Yeah. I’ll show you.” Harry mentally summoned Tom's profile. A holographic projection materialized in the center of the room, rotating slowly to reveal a digital representation of Tom. Raw data streamed around the figure so quickly that Tom felt a sense of vertigo. Fatigue was setting in; Tom needed sustenance. Harry continued, “This is your digital twin, assembled from every data point we have on you. If I apply the Down Below code, it would essentially 'live,' just like the Underlings do.”
Tom rubbed his face wearily. “The last thing we need is another version of me roaming around.”
“Exactly. If I activate it, there'll be two diverging timelines for you. Your life story would fork. We definitely don't want that,” Harry walked around the hologram, examining it.
“No. We do not.”
Harry grinned, “Frankly, I couldn’t cope with two of you. Can you imagine all the drama?”
Tom's stomach let out a disgruntled growl. “Can we get to the point?”
“We need to synchronize the data.”
“How?”
“Currently, TDust places travelers in a semi-conscious state while their biological brains maintain control over their digital avatars,” Harry explained.
“So, you're proposing a sort of relay between the biological and digital selves? One is awake while the other sleeps?” Tom tried to grasp the idea.
“Right. Right.” Harry said, his eyes widening as if he were seeing the concept clearly for the first time. “Latest memories get transferred before one falls asleep and the other wakes up. Understand?”
Tom took a moment, his eyes narrowing as he pondered. “It’s insane, but it might work.”
“Yeah, it’s mind-blowing. But there's still a hurdle to clear,” Harry added.
“What's that?” Tom asked.
“We’ve stored all this data about you, but its totality is still not you. There are huge gaps—your oldest memories, even the ones your conscious mind can no longer access. And your most hidden feelings and instincts, not yet detected by our systems.”
“Wow, comforting,” Tom said, his voice dripping with irony. He clenched his right hand with his left to still its shaking. He wanted to shout; there was no time for these distractions when people were suffering. People were dying.
Harry moved to his desk and settled into his custom-designed ergonomic chair. He used a mental command to recline the back and elevate the footrest. “I’ve given it some thought.”
Tom shook his head in a tired display of exasperation, his eyes rolling theatrically. “Of course you have. Invading people’s privacy is your favorite pastime.”
Harry retorted, voice tinged with defensiveness, “Hey, all right! That’s a bit rich, coming from you! You didn’t complain when it made your scenarios a gazillion times more powerful.”
“Fair point. So, what's your grand idea?” Tom sank into the couch, kicked off his boots, and tucked his knees close to his chest. He fought to keep his eyes open as he tried to absorb Harry's explanation. Sleep had become a forgotten luxury; there was simply no time for it.
“That new app from Infinity Co—LifeInABottle.”
“You mean the one designed to preserve the memories of our loved ones indefinitely?”
“Exactly,” Harry confirmed. “Janet Pancino created it after losing her grandmother. She wished she'd spent more time listening to her nan's stories.”
“If I remember correctly, they claimed they found the way to upload memories of living humans to the cloud.”
“You've got it. It's not just memories; they've digitized the entire human brain and nervous system—all the data within.”
“But they hit a roadblock when it came to representing that data in a meaningful way for future generations,” Tom interjected.
“Right. Without an effective user interface, they can't demonstrate its utility. But we—we've created that interface. Our sensors have enabled Sibyl to decode the function of every aspect of the brain and nervous system. She can interpret the data and animate it. I might not grasp the mechanics, but she does.”
“Right. Sooo?” Tom tried to rush the conversation so they could get back to work.
Harry stood straighter and flashed his teeth. “I bought it.”
“You bought what?”
“Infinity Co. I bought it.”
“You did what?”
“They were about to go broke, so I bought them out. The IP is ours.”
Tom snapped, frustration evident, “Harry! Decisions. Together. Remember?”
“I had to move fast. And you were busy…sulking. Anyhow, I’ve integrated LifeInABottle’s hardware into my pod.” Harry pointed to the cocoon-like structure in the corner of the room. “It’ll extract petabytes and petabytes of data every time someone uses it.”
“Harry, data is soulless. Information is not consciousness.”
“No, it’s not. You’re right.” Harry nodded in agreement. “Consciousness is subjective; it’s the way the information feels to us. And that’s not magic. It just feels like it. It’s just Arthur C. Clarke’s third law. These…these ‘feelings’ come from how we assemble the data into our own subjective perspective—our story. Our identity.”
“And how are you going to turn data into a soul? Can’t be done.”
“Tom, buddy, you can, and you have,” Harry said with firm conviction, clasping Tom's arm reassuringly.
“I don’t understand.”
“You’ve created the most effective storytelling engine in the world’s history.”
“We did, together.” Harry's voice grew more animated as his hands emphasized each point. “Sibyl and each Underling use a ton of data as input and generate highly personalized experiences. Don’t you see? And now they—they’re creating their own stories. To make sense of their complex world, they shape their own subjective perspective. They have needs and wants.”
And they suffer. “Yeah, and?”
“You’ve witnessed a few glimpses of consciousness in the Underlings, but they’re still extremely data-poor when compared to humans. They’re just six years old. Most of their memories are implanted and patchy.”
“So, you suggest that if we use LifeInABottle to create a data-rich digital twin of a human being and then run it like an Underling using Down Below’s code—”
“Voilà! Digital life.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “Voilà? You don’t even know if LifeInABottle works. There’s no proof.” Tom's limbs felt heavy, his eyes stinging with fatigue. The weight of the day pressed down on him.
“Soon enough, there will be. Sibyl predicts it’ll work.”
“Sometimes, I feel there’s three of us in this partnership.”
Harry quipped with a playful smirk, “Yeah, the Holy Trinity. Don’t be jealous. I love you too. I love you with all my…lateral hypothalamus.”
“Uh?”
“The part of the brain that actually controls emotions. Not the heart… Get it?” Harry smirked.
“Yeah. I get that you two don’t have one.”
“A what?” Harry asked, distracted.
“A heart.” Tom stood up and paced around the room, holding his aching stomach. “Harry, we really need to—”
“In the last hour, we’ve made the update to Down Below’s test code. Our platform will work differently for those who have a digital twin enhanced by data scanned with LifeInABottle—our test subjects.”
“Who are you scanning?”
“You and me today, and later, June and Quin. When he’s old enough.”
“I see what you’re doing.” Tom wanted to object, but he didn’t have the heart to do it. “Next step?”
“To test it on you.” Harry grinned, excited.
Incredulous, Tom's eyes widened. “You coded this in an hour?”
“Sibyl did most of the work.”
“And you want me to be your guinea pig?”
“Currently, you look more like a grizzly bear than a pig. Can you please shave before you see my son? You’ll scare him to death if you show up looking like that.”
Tom touched his face. “Yeah. I’ve been meaning to… So, what are the risks?”
“There’s a tiny chance your digital twin, let’s call it Tom 2.0, may behave differently. He may improvise too much. I’m still not sure how all these characters came to life.”
“If you're right, it won't be an 'it' but a 'him'. It’ll be me, or a distorted version of me. Either way, he’ll be conscious.”
“Yeah, simulated consciousness, but the real you is perfectly safe,” Harry added quickly, trying to alleviate the tension. “We’ll never synch real-time. After the experience, we will only upload Tom 2.0’s memories to your brain if he thinks and behaves exactly like you. Basically, if he’s a yuuge pain in the neck, we know we’re good.” Tom crossed his arms in front of his chest, and Harry got all serious. “Today we’ll run a bunch of tests on Tom 2.0—character traits, behavior, values, thinking patterns, quirks, and all that.”
“What if he’s different?”
“He won’t be. Maybe just minor details that we can tweak later.”
“But what if he is? Different.”
“Well, the carbon-based you will have to continue to command your Down Below avatar. We’ll keep Tom 2.0 dormant, and it will give us a chance to analyze the differences between carbon and non-carbon life.”
“He, not it! You want to keep a living person dormant forever? Or turn him into a permanent guinea pig?”
Harry conceded, looking away, voice softer, “Yeah, I know. Sounds ruthless and insensitive, but it’s not. At least this way, a part of you will always be…safe.” Harry avoided eye contact as he murmured, “This trauma you are experiencing from content moderation is…is life threatening.”
Tom walked over to Harry and placed his hands on his shoulders, shaking him lightly. “Brother, I understand, I do, but this is so sooo wrong.”
Pleadingly, Harry locked eyes with Tom. “Buddy, trust me. Sibyl and I ran a ton of tests. In a couple of hours, there will still be only one Tom—my grumpy Tom—synchronized across two worlds. You’ll have a second chance at life. Even if it is just simulated life.”
Tom interjected sharply, voice laced with bitterness, “Life in a world full of death and destruction. We need to focus on quality, not on quantity.”
“Quantity gives you more shots at quality.” Harry got up and walked toward the pod in the corner of the room. “Thought you were in a hurry? The faster we do this, the quicker we get back to that problem.” He cocked his head.
Harry clicked on the side of the structure, and the door slid open.
“If this works, and you synchronize back…Sibyl will implant memories in my brain.”
“Tom, buddy, they are just your memories, whatever you experienced Down Below. Just like before.”
“And with this—this upload, she’ll know everything about me.”
“She already does. Come on, let’s do this.”
Tom blinked, trying to make the room stop spinning around him. He needed to get something to eat soon… “I’d never allow anyone else to risk this much. But it’s me—my life—so…I’ll do it, and then we get back to work. Promise me.”
“You have my word.”
Tom took a moment to think. Their relationship was one of trust and compromise. They had engaged in high-stakes negotiations many times before, and it was that friction—the spark that came from a battle of ideas and values—that made them so productive and successful. They had argued before, but not when everything was at stake. Tom surrendered to Harry’s will, feeling uneasy. He was too exhausted to think, to argue, to keep his eyes opened. He shook his head and jumped in.
“Sweet dreams!” Harry said as the cocoon closed around Tom.