It had been a long, hard road, but they were finally ready. Todays goal: Test the feasibility of moving a humans consciousness into a computer. All previous tests with simians had proved successful, and computer models showed no increased risk from using a human. The project had the green light and Dr. Marianna Thiessen, PhD. was ready to see her fifteen year project succeed. Her drive was to create a way for humans to fulfill the same role as an AI, using less physical disk space and system resources, alleviating the strain on Bretonian computer manufacturing.
Forty-seven-year-old test subject Charles Danziger waited in the chamber as the techs made the last few adjustments to the apparatus, then gave a thumbs-up to the monitor. He was ready. Hed been practicing for the past three years for this day, running simulations on the VR gear to get his mind used to what the computer would see. He was as antsy about all the delays and waiting as anyone else in the lab. He just wanted to see for himself what it was like. A computer simulation's all well and good, but firsthand? That's a whole new ball game altogether. Charles smiled to himself as he willed his heart to not beat so fast. The brink of a new era, that's where he was.
The checks complete, Charles walked over to The Rack, as theyd termed it. It wasnt really a rack, and didnt even bear a passing resemblance to one. In all fairness, it looked more like a dentists chair crossed with a cement mixer. They called it that because of the clamps on the leg- and armrests. Nobody was quite sure what the body would do once the mind left it, so they werent taking any chances. Nobody was quite sure what anything would do once the link was in place. For all the animal testing, the human mind is a thousand times a thousand times more complex, and the slightest miscalculation might send Chucks mind off into the void. Nothing was certain.
As Danziger took his seat in the Rack, his mission operator, name of Sandra Echles, strode over with her clipboard under her arm. Her job was to keep in contact with Charles as he made his way through the simulation. For this run, theyd chosen a simulacrum of the lab for him to run around in, complete with stocked cafeteria and storage rooms.
Hey, Chuck, Sandra pulled out the clipboard. Lets run through this again. I know youre tired of these drills, but we need to make sure weve got it down pat. Just once more, okay?
Sandy, Ive told you. I know what Im doing. Go in, find the little beacon thingy, and send it back to you. Easy. Just gotta stick it in the sims Rack. Then I find my way back, and what-do-ya-know, the project is a success, and we all go get drunk. Everybody wins, right?
Sandy just grinned and jotted down a few notes. She had been a librarian on West Point before being tapped to join the project dubbed Mindspace. She was a likeable sort, with a large smile and dimples. She was also very short, about 5 2, and had a temper to match. Today, at least, she was in a good mood.
Charles, or Chuck, by contrast, was a good 63?, with the sort of rugged strength normally associated with mountaineers around him. He HAD been a mountain climber, but after a fall that almost cost him his life, he decided to take up the less dangerous pursuit of flying experimental spacecraft. At least that way you didnt have to see what killed you. Hed been picked for the project for several reasons: he had the mental keenness it was expected to take, he was crazy enough to agree, and he had no family in the unlikely event something went wrong.
As Chuck took his place on the Rack, Sandy worked through her checklist as the technicians strapped him in. She reached the end and stopped, then looked up at Chuck. “You sure you’re ready?” He just glared at her. Sandy smothered a laugh and made her way to her console in the control room. The mission commander placed his eye to the retinal scanner, his thumb on the biometric reader, and motioned with his free hand for Sandy to do the same at her station. She did so, and several lights blinked green across the board. Most of the lights were now green, but not all of them. One light stubbornly stayed yellow. Tim Kercher, a technician with a permanent half-scowl on his face ran his fingers through his fiery red hair glared at the light. He shoved his chair over to that part of the board and checked it. A small label read: “Sysop II”. Tim rolled back to his station and verified his identity in the same manner as the others before him, and then the light went green. Triple redundancy, the wave of the future.
At a nod from the MC, the tech flipped a switch and booted the sim computer. As it warmed up, Sandy took the time to snatch a quick drink from her coffee. The computer models were one thing, but this? This was real, and they were really doing it. They were placing a human’s consciousness inside a computer. Sandy took a deep breath, held it in for a few seconds, and then let it out in a rush. The MC glanced over and quirked his lips in a little smile. “Nerves getting to you?” Sandy just nodded, pursed her lips, and booted the communications protocol on her terminal. An automated voice rang out through the lab, giving the countdown to project activation.
TEN
The hairdryer-looking device at the top of the Rack glided downwards to cover Chucks head. Small electrodes were extruded and placed carefully on shaved spots on his scalp.
NINE
There was a small jolt as the electrodes turned on and began tuning themselves to his brainwave patterns.
EIGHT
The project rooms doors slid shut and clicked; the room itself began running off of its internal regulated atmospheric supply.
SEVEN
The rooms containment field activated, sealing any last possible cracks. In the control room, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. If anything would go wrong, it would be aboutnow.
SIX
Nothing did go wrong though, and the computer continued its inexorable countdown to project execution. The MC checked for the fiftieth time to make sure the activation switch hadnt moved.
FIVE
Sandy started chewing on her nails, but stopped abruptly when she tasted the nail polish. The MC started to sweat, and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief.
FOUR
Tim glanced down at his screen and made sure the small blinking cursor was in the correct location. Would Chuck get the correct beacon, or would Tim fail in his mission?
THREE
Silence reigned in the control room for the last few seconds of the countdown; but for heartbeats and the mechanical voice, it could have been a tomb filled with statues and computers.
Chuck heard the countdown and final activation, and then silence. Total, utter, complete silence. He pressed the override in the armrest and the hood slid up. He looked around him as the shackles retracted and the Rack returned to its ready pose. He stood and looked up at the control room, expecting to see the door opening and techs coming out to see what went wrong.
There were none though. As he took his first steps towards the door, it dawned on him slowly: It had worked. He was really inside a computer. A childlike glee came over him and he shouted to the heavens his triumph. Or he would have, if there were any sound in this alien environment. Panic hit him then, as his mind attempted to compensate for the lack of auditory input. He fought it tooth and nail, forcing it down. It would do him no good to lose his head in a place no human had ever walked.
He stood there thinking for perhaps an hour, pondering his situation. There was no way he could contact those outside the simulation, nor could they contact him if he had not the ability to hear. As he thought though, one thing did come back that comforted him: He was not deaf. He was merely running at a mental speed many times faster than normal, much faster than the speed of sound. He could see, but not hear.
Armed with this, he moved to a terminal and configured the hologram generators to track his eyes and display closed captioning for his silent world. Instantly a small block of space near his eye turned translucent, ready to display any sounds. He wiped the sweat from his brow, a merely human gesture of no practical use in the electronic realm. Then he pulled out his communications unit and called Sandy.
Outside, in the real world, not much had happened. Due to the immense speed of the computer, Chuck had completed his roughly one and a half hour muse and jaunt in about five seconds, subjective. Sandy heard the system call out the activation, saw Chucks body jolt, put on her headset. The very next instant was a high pitched squeal that lasted approximately one-fiftieth of a second.
Chuck waited ten minutes, and then tried again: Sandy? Sandy, this is Chuck. Im in here, and Im all right. Theres no sound in here, but I can see. Ive got a screen here though so I can see what you say. Please respond if you can hear me.
There was a momentary delay, and then another squeal, this one about three fiftieths long. Sandy puzzled at the sound and looked over at Tim. Hey, Tim, quick question. Do we have any sort of audio interference running around in here? Im getting a little squeal. She turned back to the monitor and pulled up a log file of the sim. Tim looked over his own screen and ran a diagnostic of the audio systems, then gave a short negative response to Sandy.
Chucks screen blinked twice and then began spelling out words. It moved agonizingly slowly, and he waited impatiently for nearly an hour before he got the whole message: Hey, Tim, quick question. Do we have any sort of audio interference running around in here? Im getting a little squeal. Chuck just stared at it, then began laughing uncontrollably. Of COURSE! He should have known; everything he did was sped up many times, and those outside thought it was going absurdly fast, too fast to even catch. He moved back to the terminal and activated the instant messenger protocol to Sandys machine outside.
Sandy glanced over at Tim before back at her own screen. A small IM box had opened with a message from Chuck: Sandy, this is Chuck. Apparently any sound I make in here registers out there as insanely fast, and anything out there takes eons in here. By the time you have read this, it will have been almost two hours for me. Please please PLEASE get the clock rate changed closer to normal! Sandy stared at it in shock as the import of that message hit her.
Tim! Quick! Set the clock rate of the simulation down to realtime! Tim started like a deer in the headlights of a car and then fumbled for his mouse, managing to drop it on the floor twice in his haste to fix their mistake. Chuck might be driven insane in there. After agonizingly long seconds, Tim managed to get the mouse back onto his desk and pull up the speed monitor. Realtime. Got it.
Back inside the simulation, Chuck felt the hours drag on and on. He paced the hallways, and mapped the entirety of the lab several times. He felt a little twinge of guilt when he rooted through all the supplies and found the digital version of the staffs secret storage of junk food and magazines. About five hours in though, he noticed a change. Rather, he heard it. Sound had come to the silent world, and it was Sandys voice apologizing. Oh, DAMNIT, Chuck, Im sorry! Youre still sane in there, right?
As sane as Ill ever be, or ever was. Man alive, was that ever a ridiculously long nine hours in here. Give me a bit to recover and then spawn the beacon. Sandy nodded, caught herself, affirmed that, and went to get some more coffee.
