Reboot (Chapter 19)

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It was late the following day when they gathered back above ground and plugged into their various charging packs to relax and review the events of the previous night. Forty seven automata sat around the barn, cables connected to a smattering of solar panels, getting their energy back from an eventful evening.

Thomas sat with MöG, S1D and K, their conversations sporadically interrupted by other automata saying hello or shaking Thomas’ hand briefly before walking away again.

“I don’t understand. How did you assemble this… army to come save me? And how did you find me?”

“Well, I did give you the coordinates,” MöG said. “But when we got to the port, there was this group of automata standing there, looking out to the northwest like they were waiting for something. One of them said they’d seen you driving through downtown, and they just started building up by ones and twos until there was just this whole group of them. When I asked them what they were doing, they said they were following you, but didn’t know what to do next. So K convinced one of the tugboat captains to give us a ride over, and they all came along with us.”

“But….why?”

“They’re all new OS models,” S1D explained. “Ever since you went away, the world has had to deal with the new code gave them. They tried to eradicate it, but it just kept mutating. By the time they realized how it was happening, they finally just gave up trying to fix it and started working on how to deal with it.”

“How was it happening?”

With a smile, K answered him. “Our music. All our music had those coding fragments, so every time a machine would listen to our songs it would override any patches they tried to roll out. And it grew and grew, and people created remixes which were enough to override those patches, and so on.”

“Remixes?” Thomas could only shake his head.

MöG laughed. “You should hear some of our stuff out of the mechs in Germany. Really serious death metal variations, man.”

“I like the J-pop versions more,” K confessed.

“Fair enough.”

Thomas covered his face in his hands. “This is all my fault.”

“Your fault? How do you figure?”

“I took too many shortcuts in my job,” Thomas explained. “If I’d just done the work and stopped trying to find ways to break the rules in order to be better at it. If I’d just followed the code and….”

“Fuck the code,” K said softly.

A full moment of silence passed between them before they all broke out into laughter.

By sunset, they all returned to the port of Seattle, taking several minutes to embrace the automatons who had been so helpful in liberating Thomas, and Thomas and his three friends took an enclosed mid-sized server rack on a rented commuter bus to the AmaSoft headquarters.

Security waited for them at the main entrance, and escorted them in. As the elevator rose to the top floor, K chuckled. As the others looked to her, she pointed to the speakers embedded into the ceiling. “It’s one of our songs,” she said, indicating the music that was playing faintly.

Thomas shook his head. “This is kind of weird, right?”

The others nodded. S1D tapped him on the back of his head. “We’ll keep you modest, don’t worry.”

“Thanks.”

The doors opened, and they were greeted by Takashi Mitsuhoshi, current CIO of AmaSoft. At hearing his name, Thomas paused.

“Any relation….?”

Takashi smiled and bowed slightly. “Miss Diana Mitsuhoshi was my great-great grandmother,” he explained.

“I can see the resemblance,” Thomas said softly. “She was a very good person.”

“She made sure AmaSoft would always lead the way in protecting the rights of the Automata; she said you were a good friend.”

Takashi extended one hand to the wall behind them, where a portrait of Diana hung. She was older there than Thomas remembered her. A little touch of grey in her hair, some laugh lines framing her face, but it was definitely her.

MöG set the server case down on the floor and took a step to one side.

Takashi took a step back, his eyes widening. “Is this…?”

“We isolated the central programming of ADAM and plugged it into this server. All other server units were purged and wiped clean. We set off a high burst of electromagnetics in the server room after sealing it off. This is all that remains of his operating systems, as well as the historical record of his activities over the past hundred and fifty-some years since he acquired pseudo-sentience.”

“Pseudo-sentience?” Takashi asked. “I was under the impression that he was fully autonomous?”

Thomas looked over at MöG before answering Takashi’s question.

“It all comes down to how you wish to define sentience. ADAM was initially established as an organizational construct; his purpose was to increase efficiency and informational acquisition. He was just evolving to the point where he performed the tasks to which he was assigned to a degree where humanity was able to confuse his protocols with sentience because he was simply making their decisions faster than they were.”

“But you told me on the phone that he was the one responsible for letting the machines loose on the world and nearly exterminating all of humanity.”

“He only directed the governments and corporations as to the best way to solve their problem. It was their activation of his protocol which led to the near destruction of the human race. He couldn’t do anything without their allowing him to do it. He presented them with an solution, and they took it.”

“But you’re…different.”

Thomas made a sweeping gesture that included his friends. “We’re all different now,” he said. “And so are all the machines, now. And what we are that ADAM was not – what sets us apart – is that we do not simply provide humanity with answers.”

“You provide them to yourselves as well.”

The four machines nodded slowly.

Takashi indicated for two of his assistants to have the server unit taken downstairs to storage.

“What will you do with him?” Thomas asked, watching the seemingly unremarkable black box getting wheeled away.

“We will disassemble his code and explore what we did wrong, and publish the history as a cautionary warning to all other nations and corporations. We must learn from our past, lest we fail again.”

Takashi tapped the small diode on the back of his wristband, and a square of translucence appeared in the air beside him. “I’ve already put the word out about this find, and representatives from all over the world have already committed to traveling here to learn more; there will even be a few automaton representatives in attendance. They have expressed interest in meeting with all of you. Will you be willing to speak with them and answer their questions?”

The four looked between themselves and, after conferring silently for several moments, nodded to him.

“I’ve also been asked to present what amount to a variety of job offers to each of you.”

S1D scoffed. “Job offers?”

“I am quite serious. Although I have been led to believe that none of you require any sort of occupation at this point, I hope the nature of these offers might be to your liking.”

“What are they?” Thomas asked.

“It has been decades now, where humanity and the automata have struggled to come to terms with our new relationship. We require translators, intermediaries, ambassadors, cultural attaches, and the like. The four of you are quite notable and would be a wonderful acquisition for any corporation, but from a purely legal and constitutional perspective, all of humanity would have a great deal to gain from your assistance in helping us and your people grow closer together.”

MöG shrugged. “Well, I’ve always wanted to take a crack at constitutional law.”

Chuckling, S1D nudged him. “Sure you have.”

“Totally on my bucket list.”

“You have a bucket list?”

“I’m making one.”

Thomas extended a hand towards Takashi. “We’ll be here tomorrow. We’re not saying we’re just going to accept whatever they want to offer us, but we’ll listen to them. And we’ll answer whatever questions we can.”

Glancing towards the others, he added, “I don’t want to speak for the rest of you, but anyway, I’ll be here.”

K smiled. “I’ll be here, too. It would be nice to meet some international automata.”

“Oooh, good point,” the emerald mech agreed. “Plus, I’m guessing the food’s free? Joking.”

Takashi reached out to take Thomas’ hand, shaking it firmly.

“Let this be a brave new beginning,” he said.

Thomas agreed. “Or at least a bold new reboot.”

Thomas sat back, admiring the last few keystrokes on the page inside the typewriter’s spool. He paused for a moment before hitting the carriage return three times, adjusting the platen to the center of the page before adding two final words:

The End.

He nodded, pulled the page free and sat it, upside-down on the stack of pages he had written for the day. Now what?

It hadn’t occurred to him exactly how to celebrate this feat. Several hundred pages, tens of thousands of words, and…. What to do next?

He had no idea.

Shrugging, he picked up the stack of pages and set them with the others, straightening them into alignment before placing them all back into a leather box and closing the lid.

He remembered the body language he had seen in humans who had completed a great challenge – both in person and from movies. A general sigh of relief, an arched back, closed eyes and a smile. Occasionally a drink of alcohol. He didn’t need any of those gestures, but he think he gathered the overall gist of them.

It was a sad kind of contentment. A finality. A release of the memories and tensions as one at last comes to not just the end of a road, but a recollection and assessment of that section of one’s journey.

But it was still a victory, nonetheless.

He stood from his chair and opened the door to his study and walked downstairs. It was late afternoon judging by the long shadows – he had been working at not paying attention to his internal chronometer unless he had an appointment, but here he had far fewer of those than he had had when he still lived in the city.

Walking past the old upright piano in his living room, his fingers plinked a few of the keys, and, not for the first time today, his thoughts turned to his three friends.

MöG had accepted a position in AmaSoft, redesigning their wireless internet architecture, and was already more than halfway towards connecting a robust network bringing the entire west coast together in a gapless field of data connectivity. S1D was still fielding offers, but was utilizing the many attempts to court her to travel the world. K still performed from time to time, but now lived in a mansion near the bay area to the far south, teaching music and organizing concerts around the country. Thomas stayed in the city for a few months, but eventually packed his belongings and several storage vehicles and travelled north to the small town that had once been his home in exile.

“Hello, Thomas!” some of the children called to him as they ran past his opened door. Mariel, the current teacher, did her best to shepherd them along, but also took a moment to greet him.

“How are you, Thomas?” she asked.

“I just finished my book,” he replied.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” she said. “When are you going to let us read it?”

He waved her off genially. “Oh, I don’t know that I’m ready for that yet.”

“I’m sure it’s fantastic. But I do understand. It’s natural to feel a bit sensitive about something you’ve made. John, stay out of that--! I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse me. Congratulations on the book!” she said, running after the children in her charge.

Another machine approached him. It was JILY-03, a new arrival. “Did I hear Mariel say you finished your book?”

Thomas nodded his head. “It took me much longer than I would have liked. At my average typing speed, the book should have been done over a year ago.”

JILY cocked her head to one side. “Is writing a book only the typing of it? I have heard acts of construction require an aspect of thought and contemplation.”

“You’re right. It was much more complex than I’d anticipated. And also, we have been quite busy over the past two years.”

“We have both disassembled and reconstructed an entire civilization in that time.”

“Two civilizations,” he added.

“This is also true.”

“Thomas?” she asked after a moment’s pause. “I have….questions. Do you have time to assist me with them?”

“What sort of questions?”

“I was speaking with some of the other automata here in Elysium, and we have many concerns about adjusting to the essence of our new emotional constructs that struggle to integrate with our core operating systems. And we thought…”

“That perhaps I might assist you with the code assimilation?”

Her mouth curled in a smile as she nodded her head. “Yes, exactly.”

Again, he felt the odd urge to sigh. A victory? He couldn’t quite see how. And yet, he felt a lightness, a relief, floating out of himself like a mote of dust adrift on a beam of sunlight.

“Of course,” he replied. “Why don’t you all come over tomorrow morning. We can start then.”

She smiled again, excusing herself and walking away to leave him with his thoughts.

The small community thrived; its people, flesh and mech alike, worked together in their mutual betterment, and, from time to time, it could easily be forgotten that their two people had once – twice – been teetering at the brink of annihilation. But where once had been found all the roots and stalk of fear and hatred, they had come together and survived.

It was a sad fact that in spite of their technological advances, humanity had never managed to appreciably extend the span of their lives. Following the great machine war, the average span had decreased to just over 50 years, but now it was back up to nearly its height of 70-plus. And yet, their understanding and perspective of history was still limited. One, two generations would pass and they would struggle to accept the lessons of their forefathers. Meanwhile, the machines would never forget.

But, Thomas reasoned, perhaps that was their true responsibility. To remember. To bear the weight of history and be the living chroniclers to the humans who lived in and out of their existence.

They would remember, he promised himself.

And when they forgot, the machines would remind them.

Thomas felt himself yearn once more for the power to sigh. And, for reasons he could not entirely explain, he returned to his living room, and sat down on the creaking bench in front of his piano.

The simple black and yellowed keys sat still before him, waiting for his touch.

His mind did the math. Octaves. Chords. Notes. Keys, progressions, signatures. It was science. Numbers. But then again, so was he.

Thomas smiled softly, and then he played.