Beyond Humanity -rewritten- 3

by ~mistseeker

*****

“This plain letter on paper serves as a carrier of my last words to you, Tassos, my friend, final human of the flesh in the Metastates.
We have had our discussions in the past about what had happened and what was about to happen to our race in the days that were to come. You presented your arguments to me in a respectful way, as the higher nature of the human spirit dictates; I agreed with you on a lot of things. I supported your case at the Supercourt, but the judges wouldn’t listen; perhaps it’s because of the algorithms the JEP (‘Judge Educational Program’) uses; or perhaps they simply couldn’t understand what you wanted to achieve for yourself, but saw your persistence to remain a flesh human as an act of defiance towards society.

Whatever the reason behind their decision was, your doom is impending, I’m afraid. Events are now in motion and I can’t exercise my influence as the co-founder of Metech for your benefit. I respect your final wish as a human, though, and have made all necessary arrangements for your transportation to Santorini, your place of birth. An Aerocopter will be waiting at the place and time we had discussed it would be in case of a decision against you. The pilots know what to do.

You already know, of course, that your continued existence is of political importance, as will be the Metaevolution Surgery that is to be enforced on you. My information says that you shall serve as a symbol of the transition from the flesh to the machine; the Curator of the Museum of Anthropology in Athens even told me they’re preparing a display case for your old body there.

I’m sorry for you, and for me, and for all people. I never believed things would go towards that direction. Reversing things is simply impossible (and unhuman at this phase, I might add, since the environment can hardly support flesh humans anymore) but I will do whatever I can to assist you until the end.

I even envy what you are going to do; my body won’t allow me to do it, as much as I would desire to: there are fail-safe mechanisms already installed on it, and I’m considered too valuable for Metahumanity’s future, so many of my still-existing freedoms have already been removed from me.

But I want you to know that things -- even now, even with the new-to-be-voted-for measures of the government --- may still evolve in favor of the true, higher purpose of humanity. I’ve taken special care to it, but I will not say more on the subject. Just know that hope will not die down; the government’s measures will eventually turn against it, and freedom will emerge from the souls trapped in the new alloy bodies. Know all this, and leave in peace.

Your friend for ever,
Thomas Saunders.”

How many times have I read Thomas’s letter these last few days? I’ve lost count. It’s the only thing that has kept me anchored in the world of the sane, a piece of paper that has averted my passage to madness. For how can one not go mad in face of the realization that he won’t be a human much longer? Being the last ‘biological’ human on Earth has never felt so lonely.

Well, probably not on the whole of Earth, but surely the last in the sixty nations of the Global Collective Humanocracy. That’s the reason, perhaps, that my case received great publicity on the Supernet; I even had the support of the Metahuman Organization, so that I would remain biological: The same thing had happened, years ago, with the extinct animals on the planet.

That’s what I became: Extinct species. The Supercourt verdict rejected my application to remain biological, considering that, with such a choice on my part, the social structure, order and peace could be put in jeopardy. Even the system of government was not safe!

The judges were convinced, our society was convinced that I was a threat for its existence. My own biological existence was not only against the Interglobal Law on Obligatory Metaevolution, but also against the Constitution of the ten states of the Federation of Metastates and against the Chart of Metahumanity and its accompanying civil, penal and administrative laws that determine the new order of things.

Do biologicals still exist? If so, where are they hiding? How do they live? How do they survive? Do they have a future? Will they resist Metahumanocracy? Will they fight for their right to live free on the planet again, just as they fought until recently? I don’t personally believe they possess the strength to do such a thing. But even if they did, even if they had the means to reclaim their position, I don’t think they would do it? What for? So that they have the ability to live in a ruined world? The end of Humanity has come. It was Humanity that stabbed itself in the heart, in the soul, and whence the blood flowed, whence the soul escaped, Metahumanity emerged.

But enough with the needless and pointless existential quests! I came here to do the only thing that has been left to me; to end my biological life with dignity.

(I’m proud of my decision, but time is growing short and I must hurry: I see the clouds far away being lit with various colors; Aerocopters fly out of them, their sirens wailing, their lights giving color in the stormy night.)

Here, at the edge of the steep cliff, it ends. Under the heavy rain, into the angry storm; here, over the turbulent sea that will accept me into its watery oblivion in a moment; with the air screaming “Redemption”, preparing to make me feel the complete freedom of a bird flying without a reason, without a destination. With this final act, I might be able to reach the place Humanity never managed to reach because of its fear.

I put the oxygen converter off my nose and throw away the particle filters that tortured my nostrils for so long: I feel the weight of thousands of years of human history on my back. I am the last writer and author of that history. I jump! (For a moment I fly). That’s when I am Humanity: All Humanity. And I truly overcome its boundaries. One more moment, and I shall be beyond humanity.

Come, the sea whispers.

Farewell, the wind says.

You were a human, the cliff’s edge nods.

And the rain washes my sins away.

******

A computer screen flickered at Metech’s main program-testing laboratories; a programmer instantly moved near it to read the error message it was now displaying.

UNIDENTIFIED CODE DETECTED-ERROR 101

“Now what’s this?” the programmer exclaimed nervously.

“What were you testing there?” his supervisor, seated behind his own desk, asked.

“It’s the code of the new behavior chips, sir,” the tester answered.

“B-but I don’t understand this. When the assembler prepares the code to be imprinted on the chips, it shows 101’s all the time! Yet the beta-testing showed the program works fine in simulation mode!”

“What type of code is it?”

“101, as I said, but let me scan it now for more information,” the programmer answered with a stressed tone in his voice and pressed some buttons on his keyboard. “Ok, let us see now…wait…”

The assembler assessed the code of the program for the behavior chips; the computer’s screen went black for some moments, and the tester’s eyes narrowed, but then it returned back to normal, displaying more messages.

CODE RECOGNIZED AS-

RANDOM UNKNOWN ??

MESSAGE EMBED: IMPLEMENTED BY 02- CONFIRMED

ALPHA TESTING PASSED OK-ASSEMBLE AS NORMAL, PARAMETERS 01-00-01-SC

“What does that mean, sir?” the programmer asked after reporting the results to his supervisor. “I don’t get it…”

The project supervisor browsed the report on his own computer screen, then unlocked a drawer of his desk with his magnetic pass and took a technical manual out of it. Placing it on his desk, he leafed through its worn pages.

“Interesting,” he said as he browsed. “I hadn’t seen such code since we created the first two prototypes…”

“Since the Second Adam and Eve, sir?” the coder asked in honest amazement. “I hadn’t even been born at the time!”

“Found it!” the supervisor said. “Now, let me see…”

He read the contents of the page his browsing had stopped on, almost whispering them. His faint smile of triumph vanished, only to be replaced by a blank expression. “Indeed, a lot of time has passed since I last saw this message on code…” he commented, full of thoughts.

“What must I do then, sir?” the coder asked, his hands hovering over the keyboard.

“Nothing,” his boss answered. “This code has been tested and implemented by Mr. Thomas Saunders himself: he is number two at Metech, don’t you forget!”

“I do not, sir,” the programmer answered. “I just hadn’t realized he’s still programming projects!”

“Well, don’t forget this is the code for those new chips everyone will have to wear soon, or so they say! If I were at his place, I’d surely take a closer look at what three or four billion people are soon going to plug in their ports!”

“But the code seems rogue, sir…random and disordered!” the programmer noted in resignation.

“The bosses know better, son. And the parameters the error displays imply utter confidentiality. Who are we to corrupt our founders’ code? And who are we to talk about it? The error message is clear: this code is not to be tampered with. So, if the beta-testing goes fine with the rest of the code, we’ll make no revisions: The algorithms are ready to be printed on the first batch of behavior microchips we will produce for all the Metastates!”





END?