-Chapter 30-
139 years and 1 month before the Collapse
Graham’s shutters were open, but he couldn’t see. He waited in the darkness, a tarp draped over him, as he repeated Andron’s words in his head. You’re a prototype with limited functions. Don’t look too aware, don’t look too capable, and whatever you do, don’t speak. Andron’s speech met Graham’s ears, muffled through the tarp.
“It will revolutionize the way our very society functions,” he said, a microphone boosting his voice into a murmuring crowd. “This re-tether technology has near-limitless potential, and I have already begun exploring. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you: the future.”
Brightness consumed Graham’s vision as the tarp whipped away, and the crowd gasped. They were clapping by the time his apertures adjusted.
“This isn’t just a metal shell,” Andron said. “Using wayward souls from different animals, we have created a primitive form of intelligence. Some were used for their pattern recognition, and those anatomically adjacent provided muscle memory. Hundreds were used, and all it took was the drifting souls their natural deaths had left behind.”
Graham sat as still as he could, trying to appear lifeless. What Andron was saying was true to some extent. Animal souls were the next step. There just wasn’t a working prototype yet. It was almost more impressive what Andron had achieved with Graham’s soul, but if the reverants found out about it, there would be a problem. Even the use of animal souls was sure to set them off, just less so.
“I can tell you are skeptical,” Andron continued. “So, allow me to demonstrate what I have accomplished.” He clapped near Graham’s head, “Activate.”
Graham straightened up and looked toward Andron, trying to avoid moving his eyes, and only tilting his head. His new head allowed for eye movement, and it got rid of the claustrophobic mask feeling, but it still looked more mechanical if he kept his eyes staring forward.
“Stand up,” Andron commanded. Graham did so, and the crowd burst into a wave of applause. “Besides objective commands,” Andron explained, “this machine is capable of comprehending abstract orders. Please walk forward.”
Without missing a beat, Graham walked forward three steps.
“Now, a limited intelligence could not have extrapolated on that order. It would have needed to know the right amount of steps and where to end up. It would have needed infinitely precise orders. But this machine chose an appropriate number of steps to walk and did so within seconds. That, ladies and gentlemen, is true artificial intelligence.”
Reporters bombarded the stage with camera flashes and the crowd went into a frenzy. Graham stood still, focused on the shadows that rustling leaves cast on a building at the end of the square. It was a tedious routine, but the pay was well worth it.
…
Throughout the following months, Andron’s machines passed the prototype phase, and Graham was quickly forgotten. What the scientist so humbly labeled ‘androns’ were quick to populate the city, and soon Graham could walk the streets without drawing suspicion. He felt like he was living in the hinge of history. There were protests against the machines from reverants and workers alike, but it didn’t stop their development. Everything was changing. Very few constants were left for Graham to hold on to. One of them was waiting for him at the broken-down old shack on the beach, fumes rising from her hunched figure.
“Graham!” Beatrix exclaimed, trying to hide her filthy glass reed. Her hair had turned white, her face had wrinkled, and that spark that used to be ever-present in her eyes had dulled. She let out a grating cough.
“I know, I know,” she said, staring out at the sea. “I’m on the reed again, it’s just that- ever since my son-” her voice caught.
“It’s okay, I understand. Whatever the case, I’m sure he didn’t do it because of you, Beatrix.” Graham’s voice sounded like the old radio he used to have in the kitchen, but it was completely understandable.
“Oh, Graham,” she said, choking up. “A parent should never outlive their child. It’s just not right.”
Graham watched the distant waves, a thought crossing his mind. “I suppose if Kia ever wakes up, that will be an inevitability for me.”
“I’m sorry, Graham,” Beatrix said. “I know this isn’t why you wanted to see me. Let’s just talk, like old times.”
“It’s fine. Really. Did you make it down here okay?”
“It was a bit much for my knees,” Beatrix laughed weakly, “I’m just glad they installed a tram down the cliff.”
“I just wish we could meet at the bar, but I don’t think androns usually go out for drinks.”
Beatrix took a long drag on her reed, no longer trying to hide it. It bubbled at the base before fuming along the shaft, and when she blew out a puff of smoke, Graham could almost smell it. Reed fumes were a scent he used to associate with her when they were young. She took in another breath as they stood in silence.
“I guess some things don’t change,” Graham pondered.
“They’ll get there eventually,” Beatrix said, “In my experience, not everything changes at once. A few things change, others are dormant, then it switches. In the end, it is neither good nor bad, just different.”
“I’ve been thinking recently about what it will be like when Kia wakes up. Even now, everything is so different.”
“Especially yourself.” Beatrix grinned, a hint of melancholy in her expression.
They sat in silence again as storm clouds rolled in from the horizon.
“Promise me this, Graham,” Beatrix said, facing Graham with a sudden intensity. “When she wakes, you will treat every day like it’s her last.”
“That’s assuming she ever does. Pay from Andron is running dry, and getting a job as an andron—well—let’s just say it’s tricky.”
Beatrix grasped his thin metal arm.
“If you can’t do it for her, do it for me. I didn’t get to be there for my son, and I won’t let you miss that chance.”
…
As Graham made his way back to the Discovery Council, Beatrix’s words stuck in his mind. They would be the last words he ever heard her speak. Weeks later, she passed in her sleep. Her ashes were mixed with her son’s and released into the ocean.