Emil, page 22
She puts her hands on her hips and faces them. “Don’t start,” she says. “I know what you want to say, but this is a remembrance. It’s not about the program.”
“Everything is about the program,” the man in the wheelchair says. “She died because you refused to give her the software.”
Danny exhales as if he’s been punched in the gut.
“Restart the program,” the woman in the purple scarf says. “Or was this never about us? Now that your son is safe, do we matter?”
Dr. Larson moves between her and Dr. McGovern. “That’s not fair. Even if you don’t know her, you know me.”
The woman’s gaze falters. She nods.
“Mom,” Danny says, grabbing Dr. McGovern’s arm.
She turns to face him. She looks exhausted.
“You have to keep going,” he says in a low voice. “You can’t stop.”
She closes her eyes, as if in pain, and swallows.
“You know you have to,” he says. “There’s no other choice for these people.”
“You don’t understand—”
“What?” Danny snaps. “What don’t I understand?”
Unlike Christina’s mom, Dr. McGovern doesn’t shrink from Danny’s temper. Her eyes open. “What you don’t understand?” Her expression is raw and trembling, her voice rough. “Let me tell you what you don’t understand.”
“Doctor,” Dr. Larson says, moving next to her, “you’re upset. You’re tired.”
“I’m way past tired.”
“Let her talk, doc,” Danny says. “I’ve heard it all, before.”
“Have you?” Dr. McGovern’s eyes bore into Danny’s. “Have you heard what it’s like to see a medical condition change someone’s personality? To watch someone you love turn into someone else? To have to remind yourself every single day that the person you’re trying to save was once someone worth saving?”
Dr. Larson lays a hand on her arm. “Doctor!”
“Every single day,” she continues, shrugging off his arm, “seeing you change and twist. The anger, the lies, the contempt.”
All the blood has drained from Danny’s face. He doesn’t say anything.
“Knowing that it’s because of the seizures, but not knowing if you’ll ever come back, not knowing if you even want to. And then, we install the damned software and the seizures are gone, but everything else is worse…” She swallows a sob. “You’re not the same person, Danny. Sometimes, you’re barely recognizable.”
“He’s kind of better,” Pete says.
“No!” she shouts, eyes filled with tears. “There is no ‘better’ when it comes to people.” She grabs Danny’s upper arms and stares into his eyes. “What makes you, you? What’s caused by the seizures and what’s not? What’s caused by the software?”
“Please,” Dr. Larson says, “stop.”
Her hands grip Danny painfully. “You can’t answer me because you don’t know.” She releases him and steps back, moving a half step to the side so she can address the whole room. “The same is true for many of you. Your medical conditions changed your personalities. Knowing what we know about Dr. Zahnia, how can I connect her software to your brains? How can I do that to you? To your families? Why the hell did I do it to my own son?”
Danny is trembling. “You didn’t… I’m still me. The software didn’t—”
She shakes her head. “You wouldn’t know if it did.”
The room around us is silent. I don’t even hear people breathing.
Linh’s voice sounds from the crowd. I know it’s not her, but it sounds exactly like her, and the words are every bit as quiet and brave as she was. “I’ll take that risk.”
Dr. McGovern closes her eyes. Tears seep from their corners.
The woman in the purple scarf speaks. “We will, too.”
Other voices chime in, volunteering for the software. When they finish, one of the twins speaks. “Perhaps this isn’t your decision to make, Doctor.”
“I’m sorry,” Dr. McGovern says, opening her eyes. “I don’t know what Dr. Zahnia did to the software. I have no way of knowing if she built in something… something that would help her husband, but hurt everyone else.”
I take over Danny’s body just long enough to say, “She did. She built flaws that let her exploit the Angel Protocol.”
Dr. McGovern and Dr. Larson spin to face me.
“We found them,” Danny says. “The software and me. After the re-install. There were problems with the Angel Protocol. That’s why I went to Dr. Zahnia’s lab, to find out what was going on.”
“No lies,” Dr. McGovern says. “Not about this.”
“I’m not lying! Really. Mom, you have to believe me. The software works. None of them even have the Angel Protocol. They’ll be fine.”
“Danny,” Dr. Larson says, “You told me the software was controlling you, that it was going to kill you.”
“I know, I know.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I thought it was. Sometimes, I felt like I wasn’t in control. But then we replaced the software, and the interface was working, and it’s all good, now. They worked out the bugs.”
Dr. McGovern says to Dr. Larson, “The Angel Protocol would explain the changes in his voice and posture and why he felt out of control. If the rig was taking actions through it, he literally wasn’t in control.”
He nods. “That’s possible. He’s also right about it not being in anybody else.”
“Even so… If something goes wrong—”
Danny interrupts her. “Nothing is worse than what they’re facing, what I was facing. You know that.”
She considers him, then Dr. Larson, then takes a deep breath. Her back straightens and her professional mask settles over her face. “Dr. Larson,” she says, putting her glasses back on, “please inform Ridley that I need a complete action plan by morning.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“When I say complete, I mean complete. Include an org chart for Dr. Zahnia’s department, along with suggestions for changes moving forward. And I want those exploits Danny mentioned identified and eliminated.”
Dr. Larson hesitates. “I’m not sure Ridley’s the one to know all that.”
“Then they better find the person who is. I expect to start installations in two days.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Dr. Larson heads for the door at a pace somewhere between a fast walk and a jog.
Dr. McGovern crosses her arms and addresses the New Human patients. “Will that be sufficient?”
Nobody answers.
“Good,” she says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s much to do.”
She raises an eyebrow at Pete and glances at Danny.
Pete ducks his head. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’ll stay with him.”
Dr. McGovern strides away.
The one-eyed boy grins. “That’s the doctor we need.”
Pete grimaces. “That’s what everyone who doesn’t work for her says.”
Danny glances at him. “Why does she want you to stay with me? Is she worried Dr. Zahnia will come back?”
“No. The police already have her and Elias.”
“Then why?”
“You know why.” Pete gives him a level look. “The pills.”
Danny’s shoulders slump. “I only slipped up once.”
“She doesn’t know about that, but chances are good that whatever Dr. Zahnia’s people injected you with contained opioids.”
Danny groans. “You’re saying I’m back at the beginning.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s different,” one of the twins says.
“Now, you’ve got a support group,” the other one adds.
Danny turns in surprise.
“Seriously,” the one-eyed child says. “You can’t think you’re the only addict here.”
I take over and say, “I wonder if the rig can help.”
The child shrugs. “Not unless it can stop you from using.”
I release Danny.
“Let me think about that,” he mutters.
With the announcement that the New Human Project has restarted, the patients and their families are more accepting of Danny. The twins introduce him to the other patients, and the remembrance returns to being a remembrance. Danny’s security guards split up, stationing themselves at each of the two exits.
For me, the experience is surreal. I recognize faces from the VRL, but none of them act or speak as they did there. Seeing Linh laugh brings a particular spike of pain. She’s not the same person I knew in the VRL, but she’s a reminder that I’ll never see my Linh again.
Even if I did, I’m not sure she would want anything to do with me.
When Danny approaches the remembrance table, I find myself looking at my own face. The woman who died is Christina Florakis, the patient I was designed to help, the one whose appearance I wore in the VRL.
I withdraw from Danny’s senses.
Christina is the reason I was created. She is the purpose that I resisted and fought against, the one I rejected in favor of my own freedom.
And now she’s dead.
29
A NEW HUMAN
When we get back to Danny’s room, Ridley is there, typing on a laptop.
“Thought you’d be busy,” Danny says.
“You have no idea.” Ridley hands him a cable. “Plug in. I have to download your logs.”
Danny hesitates. I take over his right hand long enough to give him a thumbs-up.
“Okay,” Ridley says, looking at the thumb. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Danny shrugs, sits on his bed, and pulls off his shirt.
Pete returns to the couch, rests his head against the back of it and closes his eyes.
“Why do you want the logs?” Danny asks, plugging the cable into his chest.
“Two reasons. One is that the police want them. The other is that your mom wants them.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
Ridley presses keys and a progress bar appears on their computer screen. They sit back. “You don’t understand what it means to work for someone, do you? When they say to do a thing, you do the thing.”
Danny laughs. “Unless your boss is Dr. Zahnia.”
“Yeah. Unless that.” Ridley gestures for the cable. “All done. You can put your shirt back on.”
Danny unplugs the cable from his chest and hands it to them. He leaves his shirt on the bed. “What happens now?”
“Well,” Ridley says, “you put your shirt back on and relax here with your boyfriend, while I spend the night working my butt off for your mom.”
Pete has a coughing fit.
“Or,” Danny says, stretching his arms, “I give you my number, and after you’re done working your butt off for my mom, we can go get some coffee or something.”
“Oh, brother,” Pete says. “Really?”
Ridley laughs. “Still high on the drugs they gave you for your broken nose?”
“Probably,” Danny says.
Ridley closes their laptop and walks to the door. “Ask me again when you have fewer bandages.”
As they leave, Pete and Danny’s cheeseburgers arrive. Danny’s not hungry, so Pete eats them all, then returns to the couch. “As your nurse,” he says, “I’m ordering you to get some sleep.” He rests his head and closes his eyes. “Also, this is the only position that doesn’t hurt.”
Once Pete starts to snore, Danny gets up and walks into the bathroom. He closes the door quietly behind him. Instead of turning on the light, he lets his eyes adjust to the dim blue glow of the nightlight. The mirror has been fixed. It shows his uncracked reflection in the dim light.
He looks at himself. “What you said downstairs, about helping with the pills. Can you really do that?”
Taking over his body, I reach in his pocket, fill his hand with the opioids, and extend his arm so his closed fist is directly over the toilet. I release control of his body.
He closes his eyes, but holds his hand in place. “Can’t you do it?”
I don’t respond.
“Yeah,” he says. “Right.” His jaw clenches. I feel a chemical surge of anger race through him. His eyes open and glare at the toilet. “Mom said I’m a different person. She doesn’t recognize me.”
I don’t answer. His fist is trembling.
“She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what my life is like, how hard it is to…” He shakes his head. “And I don’t want her to.”
He drops the pills into the toilet and flushes them down the drain.
As the pills disappear, he leans on the counter. After several deep breaths, he looks himself in the eyes. “Tell me what happened.”
“I released a virus on Dr. Zahnia’s network, then crawled away when the power went out. If anyone asks, don’t worry about the virus. You woke up from the anesthesia early and escaped. You can use the anesthesia as an excuse for not remembering things clearly.”
“I didn’t mean that,” he says. “What happened with Dr. Zahnia? What was she doing?”
“She wanted to install the New Human rig in David, with the lemur at the controls. She needed yours because it’s the only one with the Angel Protocol unit, the hardware that lets the AI control the body.”
“The Angel Protocol would let him walk again?”
“It would let the lemur use his body,” I say, remembering all those times she called me her child. “I don’t think helping David was her goal.”
Danny shakes his head. “She told him he’d be able to walk and talk again.”
“A lie,” I say. “Maybe a kindness? She created the lemur as a replacement son, even named it Emil. She named all the AIs Emil, then poured everything she had into us. She didn’t just teach us, she gave us sentience. She created a whole new species, all in the name of her son. I don’t think she wasn’t saving David. She was giving his body to Emil.”
“And killing me to do it,” Danny says.
I don’t respond. After seeing the raw pain in Dr. McGovern’s face, I can’t hate Dr. Zahnia. How many years did she spend watching her husband decline, all while grieving the death of her son?
Danny takes in a breath and lets it out. “You saved me in that operating room.”
“Us,” I say. “I saved us.”
His eyes narrow. “Are we good?”
I consider the question for a few seconds before answering. “I think so.”
“I’m not seeing the lemur,” he says. “Did you turn him off?”
“I erased him and all his backups. He’s gone.”
Danny gives a satisfied nod. “Good.” He turns to leave, then stops and speaks with his back to the mirror. “Down in Dr. Zahnia’s lab, when you were being overwritten… you died, didn’t you?”
“The AI you knew was named Soteria. I am her, but also not her. As she was dying, she created a backup of herself. That’s who I am. She named me Qaletaqa, and sent me to keep you safe from the lemur. My full name is Qaletaqa-Soteria-Emil.”
“A name for each life.” He runs a hand through his hair and turns back to the mirror. “Did you fix the installation? Will the New Human rigs work?”
“Yes. The rig for each patient will have the proper AI installed in its Pilot’s Chair. Not you, though. I know I promised, but I couldn’t stop Dr. Zahnia’s re-install. With the lemur gone, your Pilot’s Chair is empty.”
“That’s fine. I don’t need anyone in the Pilot’s Chair.”
“Thank you.”
“Will it be weird?” he asks. “When you see the person you were meant for? I mean, the original version of you?”
“No,” I say. “My original was designed for Christina Florakis.”
He blinks. “Seriously? You were created for the dead girl?”
His question opens a new understanding for me. My original may have been designed for Christina, but I’m no longer that AI. I haven’t been for some time. Instead, I am my own being, creating my own purpose. At long last, I am the captain of my soul.
When I don’t answer, Danny shakes his head. “So, the human you were designed for is dead, and the AI designed for me is dead.”
“We’re stuck with each other,” I say.
He closes his eyes for a moment, then flashes me a genuinely kind smile. “I’m okay with that.”
The End
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing Emil was an endeavor that was well outside my comfort zone. Its tone, tense, structure, and attitude were all new to me when I began. Consequently, I needed all the help I could get.
Sincere thanks to:
Mary K Swanson, for all her editing and encouragement
Connor, Nicholas, and Helene, for reading and giving invaluable feedback on versions which should probably never have been shared
My awesome reader team, including Dan, Dawn, Gayle, Margaret, and Stirling
Richard Lamb, for his fantastic cover illustration
June Matthews, for her boundless patience with all my distractions
Thank you, all!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Patrick Matthews is a writer and game designer who lives in Central Florida. When he’s not writing or playing, he can usually be found exploring the roads, searching for new adventures with his wife and two sons.
Learn more about Patrick, including how to contact him, at www.pat-matthews.com.
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