Prologue

Decided to post some of my other work; this is the beginning of what will be a scifi novel I've been working on at a glacial pace for a while now.

“Nameless,” a voice boomed in the cavernous lab. “That’s what they’re called.” A simple statement of fact, but the words were as heavy as plutonium. “Such a lack of humanity for such a humane world, don’t you think?”

        This wasn't the first time this conversation had been had, witnessed by nobody--no Councilors or Representatives, no judges or advanced A.I. Only the lab with it's wired, white walls and its mysterious pale ambiance. 

“But it is inaccurate,” came the tense response of a stringent-faced woman as she adjusted her opaque, thin-lensed shades. Sometimes it was nice that the functional fashion left her eyes only to the imagination; that way her gaze could silently judge without confirmation. “They have names. We aren’t so dehumanizing. Those persons just don’t get the honor of a chosen name until their seventeenth year. It’s sensible, really. They’re allowed a place in society once they gain the skills to know how to identify themselves properly.”

        Ghostly light filtered through the room from panels that surrounded the pair with waves that reflected off glassy, dark surfaces and illuminated every corner of the laboratory, light that was meant to correspond with the sunlight beyond the subterranean space, though the woman couldn't be sure, having not seen the sun in a long time. She could not even remember the way its rays felt on her skin. What was true warmth like, if it wasn't radiating from a machine? What she did know was that it could--and would--char the skin past repair; her colleague was living proof of that. If one could call him “living.” There was a dull whir in the air that seemed to bounce off of her partner’s artificial exterior. Was he man or machine? Nobody bothered asking that question anymore, particularly not her. What mattered was that he was sentient and conscious, present of mind and body. And, ironically, perhaps more empathetic than herself, tight-lipped as he cut her off.

        “You’re failing to realize--that is irrelevant. They go through their lives knowing that their only identity rests in nothing more than binary. They are--” his voice never wavered, but rather asserted with a precision a human would lack “--simply put, nameless, just like everyone says. Lacking an identity. The System strips them of that. And their dignity.” His gloved hand rested on a smooth, nearly transparent device that lit at his touch, and an equally thin screen materialized in front. Thousands of images shot across it as the database loaded.

        “Life strips all of us of our dignity, one way or another,” the woman lamented in a hoarse whisper. Her words were matter-of-fact. “That’s just how it is.”

        The mechanically modified man studied her with a blank exterior, but she was not fooled by his stoicism; the frequency of brainwave cognition within his skull sent ripples undetectable by human eyes that reached the her own router, nestled beneath her skin under the cloak that hung around her shoulders. And why does that make it better? How does that validate what we created and allow? His question made her skin crawl.

        The woman barked a humorless laugh. “Oh, come, Deus. Think of yourself. Your…’humanity’ was altered, yet are you any worse off for it? You can thank our System for that, too. It saved your life. It made you better than the rest of us. Yes, the System improves us. While exalting no singular being above another. The System fulfills the formula of irreproachability.”

        Deus clenched a gloved fist and tried to resist the temptation to crush the screen in front of him. Something like anger passed through his body, tissues and wiring that would be aflame if it were possible, but he still felt as dull and metallic as the reverberations in his synthetic skull. “It reconstructs us. Therefore removing us from the principle essence of our being and stripping our identity, the quality that makes us human. It’s bad enough those binaries are assigned, memorized at birth, and ingrained in the family unit…if not the community more than any birth date is.” He paused for a moment and fixed her with a long, eyeless stare, his mouth a line. “You should know from experience what that feels like.”

        “The concept of ‘human nature’,” his colleague replied in a prickly manner, hardly taking in everything said, speaking by rote as she nervously adjusted her shades, “is both archaic and culturally irrelevant. Are you not human, Deus? Are we not all human, regardless of some socially defined, boxed in account of what it means to be human? That essence cannot be deleted, simply enhanced or altered on the surface. We feel, we think, we share DNA…we survive. What more could being human entail? We connect via technology and consciousness every day. That is humanity; Society and the System are part of humanity. It is not questionable. To say I am more human than you or vice versa is practically secular heresy, fascism….”

        A silence followed the words and flooded the lab as the woman trailed off, but the buzzing only increased in intensity. Deus’ shades, though they covered nothing, were designed just as any others but with added capabilities of storing and transmitting more data. As Deus’ mind worked, the sound of loading megapixels danced from where they would have been on the screen onto his reflector lenses so that he and his colleague could read the definition of the word fascism as it crossed the screen in dark red lights.

        “The way words lose their meaning overtime has always--amused me,” he said in a flat voice that would never sound amused. “You are just as much of a reactionary as the fools who started this project. You abandon,” his words bit, and an electrical buzz tinged them like an accent, “your own sense of humanity and reasoning by claiming that as that old philosopher Descartes claimed simply thinking brings about existence. It does not. Existence happens in several forms under several perceptions--"

        “All in all, I really don’t care to debate the various phases and categories of humanity with you, Supervisor,” she spoke over him, cutting off his words. Her lips curled at the corners grimly, as though she too had only just remembered why they were together. “This isn’t why we met. Remember? We’re here to find solutions, not squabble like novice Academy members at their first scholastic debate.” The woman’s lips went so tight they seemed nonexistent against her blotched, dark skin, and her words cut only less icily than Deus’ by margins. She readjusted her purple-gray cloak around her shoulders, pushing it to the side before sitting in a clear seat next to Deus that also lit at her touch much as the screen had and was otherwise transparent.

        “In that case, Director, let’s commence. Or should I call you 001?” A binary code zipped across the desk and reflective surface of the woman’s shades in recognition with a soft beep-beep. The Director almost snarled before composing herself and gesturing roughly for the Supervisor to go through the files.

        “My title will do, Supervisor. Careful with your insolence. Wasn’t that presumptuous attitude exactly what earned you those lovely modifications you have?” A steely smile formed on her lips before she petulantly continued past the comment before Deus could respond, not that he had planned to. “What’s on the agenda? You would think since creating these databases, the closest thing to a Singularity humanity could produce, that we wouldn’t have issues to settle any longer.”

        “If I may suggest, to err is human,” Deus responded. A deadpan silence caused his words to echo once again, but the man had already lowered the volume of his colleague before his irritation could peak. Superiority was not something Deus would usually boast of, considering the circumstances and his own ambivalence toward them, but the Director was bothering him so greatly during this meeting--a meeting he had not wished to be a part of to begin with; in fact, if somebody, anybody else could have taken his place, he would have more than happily consented his position--that his brainwaves were practically forming of their own will and giving him the raw feelings of frustration he had hoped to forget. But nothing would ever be perfect, even his own system controls.

        Scanning the branching statistics and figures, he took in the latest temperature and circumference of the sun. “Finding more efficient energy sources to suit the overpopulation debacle of the last millennium does not fix the problem of intra-species antagonism, I’m afraid, or the fact that our solar system’s time is limited, and there is little to be done to stop it. Nor does this nasty orphaning system we…allowed to be implemented.”

        “Must you constantly mock me over that?” she asked, dark and dismissive at once. Her body language was giving her away though. “It’s working just fine! Who will complain about a system that isn’t broken? We have produced some of the hardest working members of society, the most focused, the most successful, the most agreeable--in fact, I dare ask why we haven’t implemented that system and done away with these family units all together. Even evolution contains flaws--especially evolution. That’s why it exists, after all! Nothing is permanent--or perfect. There is no such thing as an absolute except one that is constructed, my colleague.”

        “Who says it is working?” Deus turned sharply and unexpectedly grabbed the Director’s wrist in one surprisingly smooth motion. She winced, utterly taken aback by this affront of human contact as he pulled her forward and motioned brusquely with his other gloved hand to the screen. Depression rates, deprivation rates, economic growth and the lack there of and the percentages of natural resources left, the water pressure of the Reservoirs, the population and birth rates, live and natural versus engineered, of the Centers and the composition of the Societies and Communities: numbers upon numbers danced across the screen with moving charts and clips to illustrate, at his whim. His robotic voice was grim. “I thought you had not forgotten your statistics so soon, Director 001. Or am I the only one that pays attention to this drudge work anymore?” He analyzed what he could see of her face coolly as she read, taking in the twitches of her gaunt cheeks, the color of realization filling them. Even she could not deny the data. He spoke the words aloud. “Something is failing. And no one is acting.”

        “Well who can?” she asked with sudden ferocity, stepping away from him. His solid grip released with a thud as he let his augmented arm fall. She breathed deeply, almost showing relief. “We are the backbone of this biosphere, Supervisor Deus. Remember that. We may not speak for global conferences, but those who do cannot throw the world into panic. Why do you suppose we’re buried so deeply underground, in this damned cave, even beneath the rest of civilization? Because our responsibility is to--”

        “Throw the world into panic?” Deus asked, his tone not changing. “Don’t you see what’s right in front of your nose? Nobody cares. The news could flash in the next millisecond, all the data, every tiny detail of this System, and how many people would even arch an eyebrow at it or comment and bump it?” Though virtually expressionless he might be, Deus knew how to speak with the subtle sharpness of a laser blade burning as it cut through flesh and tissue.

        The Director gaped at him before quickly clenching her jaw and raising a hand as though to silence his protests. “That’s because the formula is incorruptible. I made it that way. Our responsibility is to find a solution, and we have one.”

        “So goes the dogma. So it goes. And that is why when the world is a new Mars, nobody will have moved to stop it. Dogma kills the senses first; the mind shortly follows.”

        “And what do you know about senses?” his colleague asked, her lips peeling back to show a row of white teeth. She sat in the chair stiffly, no longer looking at the screen. If Deus could still feel, she hoped he felt her eyes on him like daggers. “You should know better by now. You should have more sense. People know what they need to know. We decided that long ago. Far be it from me to disrupt what algorithms and a lifetime of tireless studying have shown to be true.”

        Deus shook his head, but he no longer analyzed her. His gaze went beyond, watching the images flash past his screen like a prophet glimpsing into the future. As always, his voice droned flat with certainty. “Perhaps a little disruption is what this world needs.” The words rang and made the buzzing from before seem deafening. “Maybe I was wrong..." he said in a voice almost muted. "They know nothing but soulless facts.”

        The Director shrugged uncomfortably, tugging at her hood with disgruntlement. She held her silence for long moments before speaking slowly, attempting to mock him as if that would make his statement less powerful. “You propose anarchy as the solution. Well, I will see you in Hell, then, or whatever f*****g netherworld the elites invented to scare the peasants centuries past. Next you’ll be writing propaganda and plastering it on public message boards in the mono stations.”

        “Don’t insult me like that, Director. That won’t make this easier.”

        Something in him that had been coiling snapped and breathed life into his circuits. Suddenly, the conditioning unit blew a little colder, and the Director’s eyes went wide behind her shades as she realized what Deus had on his screen. A date"a binary attached to it"a countdown of sorts perhaps"a whirl of confusion as he spoke once again through the router.

        I’m sorry, colleague, but our best interests lie elsewhere, statistically speaking, of course. I’m sure you understand. And you cannot take us there.

        Weapons had not been a mainstay of the world for at least a few centuries, and the reflexes of most had grown slow. She barely could blink before he removed his glove and pressed the augmentation, icy hot to her throat before letting the needle sink into her jugular, unprotected between hood, cloak, and top. A vial tucked within him released itself into her and slowly began to shut her body down. The Director gasped and sighed in shock, but could produce nothing, not a quip more from those pale white lips. A trickle of crimson dripped down and soiled the collar of her light tan top of silky fibers. He slowly removed her lenses with his gloved hand and watched as the life drained slowly from her dark hazel eyes, calculating the time it would take for all of her organs to shut down numbly in his mind.

        “Immortality isn’t everything,” he released from compressed lungs, yet for all the feelings that coursed through him, still his body felt as cold as his voice. 

Author's Note

Advice and constructive criticism welcomed! I really want to make some headway on this story this year. There are meant to be some ambiguities, just to hook the reader into going forward with the story to learn more, but if anything seems too vague or inconsistent, please let me know.

Reviews

[Aaron Browder]

This is really intriguing; I want to know more about this organization and the world they are monitoring -- is it the distant future? Or modern times? I was fascinated enough to get through the whole thing despite being fairly lost. Most of the time you moved on from a subject/action/description before I was able to figure out what you were talking about. I think it would be better if you slowed down and gave more description to paint a clearer picture. Of course, your ambiguities do contribute to the intrigue.

“My title will do, Supervisor. Careful with your insolence. Wasn’t that pretentious attitude exactly what earned you those lovely modifications you have?”

Passages like this draw me into the story while at the same time giving me some hints about the characters and their world. There just needs to be enough revealed to anchor the reader. Contrarily, the passage

Something in him that had been coiling snapped and breathed life into those circuits. Suddenly, the conditioning unit blew a little colder, and the Director’s eyes went wide behind her shades as she realized what Deus had on his screen. A date"a binary attached to it"a countdown of sorts perhaps"a whirl of confusion as he spoke once again through the router.

In retrospect I guess Dues became angry with her, but I'm still not sure what happened here. It might be suspenseful, but I don't have any anchor. All I can do is scan over it and wait for some explanation (which admittedly does come in the next paragraph). However, I don't feel I should have to resort to scanning.

This looks really good overall. Keep up the good work!

[Amanda Granger]

Thank you for the very useful, insightful review. I agree with the over ambiguity/confusion you mentioned--I was actually thinking I needed to tie in some more clues about Deus' attitude throughout because we don't have the clearest look into his mind (somewhat intentionally, but I agree, it shouldn't be that confusing), but having that come out of the blue doesn't do for defining the motive. The conclusion for the prologue came to me kind of late in the brain-storming/writing process, so it was sloppy of me not to go back and add some details to make it more solid. I've finally decided on all of the details for the world (for the most part) so I'll be editing it to give it a better since of time and place soon. :D

I think I need to find a way to balance the intrigue with the actual information for this, so that it all wraps up more firmly; I wasn't sure where I would conclude when I started, so it was a case of not editing for clarity once I DID figure out what I wanted to happen. But a review like this helps a ton. Again, I can't thank you enough for the feedback. :)

[Jimi Brady]

I remember the first time I read this; I was hooked. It's both frightening and intriguing. I love how calculating and cold the characters are, and how utterly nonchalantly Deus carries out his prerogative. I can't wait to read more of this, dear. I really love what you have for the first chapter, too - you should definitely post it in the future. :D

[Amanda Granger]

Thank you, love, thank you so much! You're part of the reason I kept working on it and finished the prologue to begin with. You helped me brainstorm, and for that, I am very thankful. I really enjoy writing them, myself. The cold, detached mystique being linked to something darker in the psyche that's just been buried by all of this disconnection...it's pretty fascinating stuff. I can't wait to write more and see where it goes (and see if I can keep you hooked ;3). I certainly will post it when I finish it. :D