DEAD ALIVE

Prologue



Something about death fascinated me. Ever since I was a child, living alone where the sun wouldn’t shine, I was fascinated with numbers, too. Everything is connected, it is true, but this was a connection I never thought I’d find. What was it? It is not a question, but I have an answer, and there is only one way for you to understand it. Only if I tell you my story will you come to understand. My name is Reese, and I do not have a last name. I have no parents, no family except for my twin brother, Angel. I don’t know who named us, and I don’t know what made us so intelligent, or who. I am physically 16 and a half years of age, but how long have I been 16 and a half? All that matters is that I’m outside, and the pieces aren’t together yet, not yet. As soon as I read my thought history, I will understand. Starting at November 92nd, a day that doesn’t exist in your less sophisticated time frame. Let me give you a different, easier date to understand… maybe February second will work for us? I never left the year of 2020, not for eternity, and not for two eternities. My long awaited seventeenth birthday never to come, and no memories of a time before I was 16 and a half. Half years don’t matter in your less sophisticated version of time. There are pros and cons of my alteration on space and time, for example, anything you want and anything you want is yours, within a small amount of circumstances. If the object is too complex to be memorized by the human mind, for example, a car, a gun, or a cellphone, it cannot be generated. There is science behind every “supernatural” manifestation, but you wouldn’t understand it. It is more complex than nano-physics, and past the complexity of the n-th dimension (something not yet discovered by modern science). I find that every step I am ahead, that stupid program is still three steps ahead of me. I made it, but every day I find that it will reach the level of god far before me. If he wins, there’s no way to save anyone. But to understand, I must start at the beginning. I will now access the first-person memory of Reese…



















Chapter One – Reese

November 1st, 2020



I sit in a beanbag chair in a white room, a single fluorescent light walled into the ceiling. Papers sit in front of me, requests on designs, research projects, a couple building structure layouts, and, my favorite part, the numbers. I have calculated so many numbers for them; the number of numbers alone is more than the days I’ve spent here. I hear a knock on the door.

“You can come out now”. I was just getting started. They think they own me, those CEA agents, but I like it here. My twin brother chose the path of the military though, he disliked the CEA treatments, and I hear he now leads the anti-CEA theorists. So basically the CEA is a military-oriented police force that uses biased propaganda to express ideas and is said to have used violence to keep order among common citizens. In my mind I have played out scenarios where they could repeat the Chinese Revolution, or the Holocaust, but the modern world is too aware to fall for those kinds of things.

I walk out and see the crowd. Ugh. I hate people; their sole objective is to befriend you for selfish purposes. They all know my name, but no one cares to greet me. They are university students who believe I am just a super-genius that never leaves campus. I have never been outside; I feel that doing that would expose me to things that will distract me. The CEA are perfectly content with that, and I choose not to conflict with them. I walk down the rows of tables to the vending machines, where my experiment is approaching.

Two days ago I framed a local university student of spray-painting the campus east wall, and of course the CEA agents would never believe that I did it. I hid the spray paint bottles in his locker, and I made sure to check the janitor routine cleanings. Knowing the janitor cleans the east wall on Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, I had everything lined up perfectly. The student, Jimmy Hansel, visits his locker between 11:00 and 11:05 to grab his notebook, so at 10:00 I emailed the janitor about the vandalism on the east wall using an administrator’s email account (of which I hacked). I had to make sure the student was a strong fighter, so I chose Jimmy, the best fighter on the boxing team. The Janitor ran to the wall and reached it at 10:30, and confirmed that it was indeed vandalized. He began running back at 10:35, and I called his phone from an anonymous student’s cellphone (which I stole) notifying him to check the room right by Jimmy’s locker, room 305, since a teacher was locked out (I stole her keys). At 11:00 he witnessed Jimmy opening his locker, and saw the spray-paint. Seeing the janitor, Jimmy ran towards the cafeteria.

And now it is 11:04, and I see Jimmy running towards me. What a challenge. As he runs by I step in front of him. He tries to charge past me, but I take him down with a quick toss.

“Punk, what are you doing!?” he jumps up quickly. He isn’t slow, that’s for sure. He notices who I am, and laughs. “Oh this kid? Weak!” He swings a wicked left hook at my head, and I duck just in time. I aim a left hook of my own at his gut, winding him. I jump-kick him in the nose with my knee, drawing blood. He tries to hit me in the side of the head, but I wrap my arm around his and duck and spin, using his own momentum to flip him over me onto the hard floor. He jumps up just as fast as he went down. “You little… do you know who I am!?” I calmly place several quarters in the vending machine, ignoring him. He grows angry, and slams me against the machine. “Don’t you dare turn around!”

“You don’t legitimately think you will get away with what I framed you for?” I crack a slight smile.

“You frickin-“, I kick the machine, causing a can of Dr. Pepper to fall into my hand. I turn and hit him in the side of the head with the full can of carbonated soda, causing him to fall to the floor in pain. I could kill him, but that wouldn’t make the CEA happy… I calmly shake the can and throw it down at him fast. It implodes, spraying soft drink all over his clothing.

“And with that, this week’s training is done.” I kick him off his hands and knees into a table, watching him clutch the side of his head. Several CEA agents run at me and go to grab me. I hold my hands out for them to grab me. “He was nothing but a jerk failing his classes and partying. Scum like him don’t deserve a place here.” Of course, that was an excuse to beat the crap out of a formidable opponent. Formidable? CEA agents are better fighters than him!



“Could you explain to me why you attacked the best fighter on the university’s boxing team?” I sit in front of one of the main administrators, as if this were an interrogation. I’m the one interrogating her.

“Impressive, was it not?” I grin. She looks unamused.

“Yes, the fact that you were physically unharmed is quite impressive, but you still put someone in the CEA hospital. That is not impressive. Why did you do it though?”

“Well”, I look at my feet, as I kick at the table legs, “First of all, he vandalized CEA property”, Yeah... “Second of all, he was disobeying a CEA official”, It was sure to happen due to his personality traits. “Lastly, he was running in the halls.” She shakes her head.

“Don’t think you’re above the rules here. Your sole purpose is to stay in your room and give us the numbers and drawings we ask for. Picking fights isn’t necessary for that!”

I look at her. “I need to stay in shape. And when I go outside, I have to let out my built-up aggressive tendencies. Everyone has aggressive tendencies, but they are let out so subtly that no one notices them. But when you spend days at a time doing something you enjoy, you have to let it out in small bursts, like I do.” I keep a blank face, watching her reaction. Even as I am talking to her, I am analyzing her responses and conversation topics, her actions and reactions. She won’t even touch me. I’m too valuable.

“You are fully capable of punching a wall. Would you like me to put a punching bag in your room?” It is obvious that she is joking. I never want anything in my room; I have fear of camera bugs and audio bugs.

“No.” After a long pause, she simply puts a folder on the desk.

“Read this when you get the chance. Finish your numbers first, and then open it.” I grab the folder and hold it by my side. “You are free to go to your room.”

“Gladly.” This short little skirmish is all the outside world I need for today. There is no time in my room, no space, I simply exist. Outside, people age, there’s night and day, there are curfews and time limits. In my room, it’s only me and my thoughts, which are both perpetual. I hate time. But how can I hate something that doesn’t affect me? Chronophobia was my diagnosis, so they must have done something. I understand who they are, the DEA, and what they want from me. It isn’t complex at all, I am just very intelligent and they like that. But that will be their downfall someday; it’s in my nature to grow bored of this. Maybe that’s my true fear, someday getting bored. If my twin is even just a bit like me, I wouldn’t be surprised if he one day took the CEA down. He could do it, and I believe he will.

I return to my room, seeing the stacks of papers. I close the door behind me and sit myself in the center of the room. Now I can relax again. The papers are organized so that I have four piles. Going from left to right, I have structural designing and computer software, physics and engineering, statistics of random things, and the numbers. I believe that I was born, or created to be a calculator, someone to work out numbers based on memory of things I never remembered, and all I know is I’ve never been wrong about a single number. I purposely put the wrong number down one time, to see the consequences, and I was deprived of food for a week. I still was able to sneak out and steal food, but it was a pain having to get up and go outside twice a day, so that’s an experiment I will not conduct again.

I eye the folder the CEA administrator gave me. I decide to leave it alone until I’m done, it’s not like I don’t have all the time in the world. I reach for the first pile, and open the first folder. Designs for a building structurally capable of suffering chemical gases. Today’s project is a typical three story building that can become air-tight at the touch of a button. Okay, let’s get on with it…













November 1st, 2020, 21:00



I have spent exactly two ours on each of the first three piles. I have almost finished the design of automated air-tight windows and doors; continued finding the science behind the rare bacteria that can thrive in temperatures of up to four-hundred degrees Celsius, known as Pyrodictium; and have found the first 10,000 digits of the square root of 617.

Now comes my favorite part: the numbers. How I find the numbers is, I start by seeing the first million digits (they seem random, and are not decimals) and identify the patterns. It is something that even the most complicated computer program cannot do, let alone the unsophisticated programs at this CEA university facility. Sometimes it will be simple, like a repeat halfway or two thirds of the way through a number, or sometimes it is complex, like every third prime number squared and divided by 2. Either way, I have found that the numbers are never the same, and the patterns are always different. And the best part of it all is that I love the numbers, I feel like how a normal person would feel at his birthday (I avoid those events due to my Chronophobia), or how a scientist feels after a groundbreaking discovery (which is usually a filthy CEA scientist who takes credit for my work; I’ve looked into it).

And now I open the folder, seeing the pattern instantly.

20954588812261563190322442585292132603637394242804629496253015641…

And with the first 65 digits on the screen, I see the pattern. Every odd number multiplied by 17 and 3 added. Between each pattern number is the random number I need. I see my numbers by cancelling out the pattern numbers. I begin writing them down.

95863345107209211…

Once again, it’s pointless but exhilarating. I feel like I remember these numbers from somewhere, but where? I shake my head. Just continue the pattern! I push the thought of memories aside and keep crunching numbers, writing what I find, and flipping pages when I need to. I don’t stop, in the flow and incapable of taking any breaks. I usually just keep going until the lights go out, which would be 23:59, but after two hours of numbers, I see the folder from earlier out of the corner of my eye. I’ll stop now. I rub my eyes and put the papers aside, now focusing my attention on something new to me. I grasp the folder and read the front.

“CEA MILITANT FILES. FOR CEA MILITARY OFFICERS’ EYES ONLY”

It was clear that the label was just slapped on there, probably by some nameless pronoun on the other side of an office desk. I open the folder to find files upon files. I see something interesting… “FILES OF ANGEL ----- ANTI-CEA OPERATIVE”

Oh this will be quite a read…

Chapter Two – Angel

November 1st, 2020, 1:00

Location: Revolutionary Firebase



Two days ago my life was in immediate danger. I had no choice but to reveal my identity to the CEA, and because of the events that perspired, the Firebase of operations is in danger as well. And now the CEA are outside, bombarding our east wall. I know this will be my final hour alive.

My name is Angel, and I do not know my last name, nor who gave me the name. I have no family, aside from Reese, my twin brother. The world seems to revolve around him; he didn’t manage the escape when I did. He was supposed to be saved, but while I was unconscious he said I was Reese and he was me. Only one of us could escape the facility, and unfortunately it was me. If Reese knew the truth, and if Reese were the one to have been saved that day, the CEA would’ve been taken down by now. But instead, I am out here, fighting for what he is unknowingly trying to destroy. He is the CEA’s primary weapon, he can do millions of things that even I am unable to do. He could single-handedly destroy the CEA, but instead I am forced to fight against the very thing he is a game piece for. But I know the truth. Reese knows who they are, and I bet he’s found out who I am as well. He lost his memory, so the cruelty is something he forgets, but he is so incredibly clever, he knows his role. And I am no idiot either; I plan to die today at the hands of the CEA. But not here…

Two days ago I purposefully revealed my identity on-screen, and made it easy to track my position on the globe. They would urgently rush a strike team to wipe out all resistance here. I know that the time of arrival for them would be 11:30 today, in broad daylight. The urgency of their mission would require them to invade upon arrival, making it easier for me to counterattack perfectly. Now, at 11:50, a Harrier Jet will depart from the runway at the nearby airport for private purposes. One of my men is currently hijacking it, and I will be there in eight minutes, and even as I sit in this car I can see the CEA militants readying cannons for fire.

The cannons erupt with ballistic fire, tearing the east wall to pieces. The inner sheltering remains unaffected, forcing several foot soldiers to place high-impact explosives (designed by Reese himself) onto the concrete shielding. Within seconds, the whole shelter east wall caves in from a destructive but somewhat small explosion and a loud alarm can be heard. Red lights glimpse past my view, and the sound drones out as they disappear into the distance. I turn to the driver. I look down, feeling nothing. “E.T.A.?”

He looks at me through the rear view mirror. “Three minutes. Soon, sir”, he begins to slow down as there is a roadblock ahead. “****, what do we do?” I pull a submachine gun from a compartment below my seat.

“Think you can take them? They’re standard police force. Non-CEA.” I load a magazine and put several spares into my pack.

“Yes sir”, he parks the vehicle to the side of the road and pulls a rifle from under his seat.

“So do I.”

There seems to be three vehicles blocking the road. Standard police won’t shoot first, giving us a several second advantage. Each vehicle will have a pair of officers, leaving only six adversaries to take down. I have thirty bullets a magazine and an accuracy rating of 98%, all bullets hitting with short-range weaponry. My partner has a rifle with 22 rounds of ammunition per magazine, and an accuracy rating of 80% all bullets hitting a long-range target. Police come equipped with standard M16 rifles that have a high accuracy rating at medium-range, and 28 bullets of ammunition a magazine. They have standard M9 handguns as well, short-range accurate and 9 bullets per magazine.

“I have a plan. You stay behind back here and open fire, drawing their attention. I will flank around behind when I am ready, and you keep firing. Got it?” He nods and ducks behind our vehicle. I run down the hill, out of view. I hear gunshots, and hear return fire shortly after. I rush back up the hill after a few yards, and duck behind a tree. I clutch my weapon and take it off safety. Here we go... I listen closely. 24, 25, 26, 27… I jump up and run at the closest officer. He drops his magazine, out of ammo, and I shoot him four times in the chest, tearing his vest to pieces. I grab him, using him as a shield as the police focus fire on me. Two of them get direct headshots from my partner, killing them both instantly. The last three officers duck behind their vehicles, calling for backup. We’ll be gone by then. I throw the human shield to the ground, and pull a tear gas grenade from his belt. I toss it under the vehicle the surviving officers are hiding behind, and it bursts, spraying the pain-inducing gas everywhere. I hold my breath and run back to our vehicle. My partner is waiting for me there.

“Are we ready?” he asks as he sits in the driver’s seat.

“For now, yes, drive on”, I get in the back seat and look at the trigger on my belt. This trigger will destroy the Firebase, and all information on other HQ’s with it. It’ll also blow those enemies to hell! I look out the window as we drive directly to the jet, through the gate and onto the runway. Several helicopters are seen in the distance, but they are no problem to me. The explosion at the Firebase will keep them occupied for the time being.

Our vehicle stops. “Head on out sir”, my partner salutes me.

“Call me Angel now. I am offering commandership to you until I return”, I grin. I am still young, unaging, yet he takes orders from me? Not until I am dead and alive again. I know what Reese is capable of. He will do something, in the end he will take my place and destroy the CEA. Crime Enforcement Agency, my ass!

I climb up a small ladder, at least three yards up, into the Harrier Jet. I climb down into the co-pilot seat next. I taught myself how to fly a jet a long time ago, but my fear of heights kept me on the ground. Nothing I can do about it now, though. I harness myself in as the pilot puts his helmet on. This whole operation is going so smooth; I am convinced that they must have donated this jet to our cause, or something. The lack of police at the scene proves it. And now I get my helmet on. The canopy slides downwards and seals itself, locking us in. I hear the whir of an engine, and I watch the pilot rest his hand on the controls. I hate this… I wait for a few seconds, and the pilot flips several switches.

“Ignition in four. Three. Two. One.”

The Harrier Jet rises straight up, and the sound of the jet engines would be deafening if not for these earmuffs. I plan on pretending I am trying to escape, and to eject somewhere where I will be visible. And I hope to die somewhere between the air and the ground. If I die, Reese will find out, and without a reason to crunch numbers anymore, he will have to replace me and continue this war. In the end, it’s just a game to him, and even as the CEA’s most powerful game piece, he is the one who controls the board. So with my death, he will end this whole charade. He can’t really be sided to the CEA because he believes their cause, can he?

The harrier, without any reason to wait, starts zooming forward right away. I jerk back in my seat, the quick acceleration causing pain in my body. I am not used to this high amount of horizontal g’s, even though the pilot probably feels nothing right now. And as quickly as the pain appeared, it dissipates. I remember the trigger. I am still in range… I squeeze the trigger quickly, and assume that behind us, the Firebase is collapsing upon tons of clueless CEA agents. I turn my head to look behind us, but my vision is blocked by something else- another jet.

“Bank left!” The harrier quickly jerks left, and my seat shifts the opposite direction. I realize what a fright ejecting will be. But if I am dying now, one more strategic maneuver won’t hurt.

We are going 620 miles per hour, and the jet behind us has a speed equivalent to that. If I were to eject, and the jet behind us kept up its current speed, we’d collide in approximately one third of a second due to wind resistance. If I purposely missed, and opened my parachute at the right time to cover the enemy’s canopy, rendering him blind, I could take him down with me!

I decide to act. I look at the eject button and wait. If I had explosives, this’d be easier, but it isn’t. I draw my submachine gun and start shooting the canopy.

“What are you doing!?” the pilot panics, and is ready to eject himself. I press the eject button of my own and I shoot up and out of the speeding vehicle. The sudden wind resistance winds me, and my vision grows blurry. I have half a second to pull this string. I, just in time, pull the string as I am just above the rival jet. The parachute shoots out of the seat, blinding the CEA agent behind me. I feel the vehicle jerk downward, but it’s unavoidable. Then something I didn’t foresee happens.

The canopy opens and I see the agent, with his helmet on, step out of the moving vehicle. He rests low, and slowly makes his way towards me. I draw my knife as he draws his, and I cut myself out of the chair. Traveling at 620 miles per hour, I almost instantly am swept backwards off the jet, but I stay low, the parachute blocking most of the wind. I see the parachute begin to rip, and realize I only have a few seconds. I crawl forwards as the agent makes his way towards me, and he raises his blade high. His attack will be incredibly powerful, the wind resistance will draw his hand down much faster than usual. I sidestep his attack, and the knife plunges into the jet’s surface. I see my chance, and hook my arm around his neck. I stand up, and all of a sudden, the parachute rips and we are both jerked off of the plane by the sheer speed and force of our descent. While in freefall, I hold my knife to his face, but he keeps holding me back.

I believe in you, Reese. I decide to cushion my fall. I use the last of my energy to kick myself away from the agent, and he is at least ten feet directly above me. And now for a lesson in terminal velocity. I let go of the knife, and it shoots upward like a bullet, straight into the agent’s chest. He falls like a ragdoll, limp, and falls slower now. I turn around, seeing water beneath me. The beach is only a few yards away, and I try to hit the water surface in a way that will kill me, but preserve my body. They need to know it’s me. Reese needs to know. The world seems to slow down to me. Time never existed for me, yet it is running out. And still, even though a piece is sacrificed for the checkmate, the game continues. I smile slightly. My, the sun is bright. I like it. When Reese sees it, he will understand why I fight for freedom. With every life taken and rule broken by the CEA, they will get a taste of karma. If I am falling at 122 miles per hour, and the ground is a tenth of a mile away, how long do I have to get in one more number?

“One second.”























Chapter Three – Programs

November 2nd, 2020, morning

Location: Reese’s Room, CEA University Facility



I can’t take it. My only family has been killed in action. Without resistance, the DEA will have no need for me, and no need for me means no more numbers. They can’t do that. I look at the last page of the folder.

“You are no longer needed for our research. Thank you for all your hard work, and you now have permission to leave DEA University Facility at your own will. You can continue your studies at this University for free, but you will no longer have the burden of doing our work.

-Administrator Crowe”

I punch the wall with enough force to leave a small tear in the fabric, but my face remains calm and deducting.

“This is quite an outrage…” If I were to get my hands on a computer I could find some way to change things. I stand up and walk over to my door. I turn the knob, and find for the first time ever, it is unlocked. I walk out the door slowly, seeing no one around. It is still very early, and the only security guards patrol the perimeters. I make my way down the hallway and towards the computer laboratory. I have the whole school layout memorized, and know exactly where to go. I look down another hallway, and the darkness makes it hard to see anything, but I can tell that there is no one here. I keep walking and find room 311. Here we are. I try turning the knob, only to find that it is locked. This is no problem for me; I simply walk a little further down the hall and stop at the vending machine. I push it with all my strength, and reveal the back. I see fan blades, a variety of circuitry, and a whole lot of screwed in paneling. I use a penny to unscrew several screws, revealing even more complex circuitry (not complex to me though). I pull out several pins, and copper wiring. I wrap them around each other, making long shaped with belt tips. “Lockpicks.” I replace the paneling and re-screw the screws back in. I push the vending machine into place and stride back over to room 311. Now I can get this done. I push the first lockpick in, twisting and turning until I hear a click. I then push the second lockpick in and twist and turn, hearing a second click. Finally I push the lockpicks in deeper, hearing the third click and turning the knob. I pull the door, creaking and swinging open heavily. I step in and turn the lights on. This will be fun.

I see at least ten tables, all with either computing pc, or prototype programs. I walk up to the first program, and analyze it. It sits in a small computer drive, an obviously powerful piece of hardware. But it’s the software I want to see. I plug it into one of the pc, and it begins to boot up. The program is a simple VI (virtual intelligence), meant to interact with the user.

“Hello. What is your name?”

“Reese. What is yours, program?”

My name is Sandy. Nice to meet you, Reese.” There is a pause. “Would you like me to do something for you? I can calculate numbers, answer questions, or even just talk to you about anything.”

Let me ask you something then. “Are you capable of inhabiting and hardware system?”

“Not yet. I am still a prototype, and can only operate a standard computing system.”

“What do these other programs do then?” I question, interested.

“Just like me, their sole priority is to inhabit specific software and interact with our users. Some of the others can run robots, some run full systems. We have successfully created an interactive house, an interactive wristwatch, and-”

“I don’t really care. I have all the information I need.” They have no emotions. They are just disembodied voices programmed to do things. But I can make it so much more. I unplug the program and re-plug it into another computer. I start up the program and override authority with a few quick coding techniques. Oh the excitement! I run a simple override program and start linking the wires to the wires of another program by hand.

Several hours later, I have all four programs running together as one. I have already used it to override all the camera controls, deleting all the footage of me unlocking the computer lab door and fiddling with the VI. I pull the program from the computer and place it into the original pc. I delete all the data history, and replace it with history I made up.

“Your name is One. You are a complex AI. You are programmed with all the information I already know.” I have implanted a bunch of random data, and how to identify patterns like I can. I can make this much better if I first develop a technology that can directly link with the brain. If I do that…

All the lights turn on. Is it 6:00 already? I quickly put the large and heavy program into the garbage bin and grab the bin. I bring it with me down the hall, looking like I’m simply taking out garbage. Already, a student walks past me. I know what he’s thinking. ‘That scum never leaves this wretched place.’ Well he’s right, but I’m capable of doing ten times as many things as he can, from within this facility. And when I uplink this AI to my brain, it will be able to do everything at my capacity. If I were to put that AI into a brain like Angel’s, it would become someone capable of leading a resistance to take down the DEA. Unless I fight him from within this facility, with my numbers. This game shall continue. I will maintain my purpose, for another eternity, and this is just the beginning. With One, I can play with all the roles, I could throw in another variable every time I grow bored, and with my resources, I can have all the fun I want forever! This world will be mine, and no one can stop me. One is my AI, and I will program him not to kill me. It’s that easy, and from within these walls, the DEA can’t touch me, and have no evidence to prove that I caused this! I am invincible, perpetual, and I have my fun for as long as I want. Angel gets his return, and the only one knowing the truth will be me. That’s all that matters in the end, right?

Hahahahaha and when I have such powerful resources at my disposal, I can virtually do anything and everything I want! The death of Angel has only been a wakeup call, nothing close to traumatic. These next few eternities shall be fun…

I return to my room, and drop the AI program hardware into my pile of papers, hiding it from sight. I collapse onto the floor, onto my knees. I grab one of the papers and pull a pen from my pocket. I begin writing:

“I request to have several items installed into my room. First, I would like a mirror. I have not seen what I look like for at least an eternity, and I want to make sure the hair cut people are doing their job correctly. Second, I would like a computer installed into my room. I do not need internet access, only the following programs- TextEdit, DocuEdit, Software Editor, and whatever other editing programs you can find. Lastly I would enjoy some games. Maybe cards, or puzzles, or a magic eight ball? I wouldn’t mind testing my luck. And I already know that you still need me to stamp out the last of those rebels. I would like five dollars too, for taxi fare. I would like to go to the morgue of which you are running tests on my brother’s body. I just want to see him. Please include the address and money with the furniture and games I expect to see when I wake up.”

I am satisfied with my list. I set it by the door and lay down on the ground. The fabric is strange, not soft, but smooth and firm. It isn’t solid, but it stays in place, shifting only an inch or two beneath my weight. It is comfortable. I easily fall asleep, earning my rest.























Chapter Four – One

November 2nd, 2020, 5:00

Location: Computer Laboratory, CEA University Facility



My name is Sandy- no wait, my name isn’t Sandy. I am… um, who am I again? Reading my conversational history, apparently my name is One. Why wouldn’t I remember that if it is in my history? Who’s this Sandy? Why am I able to ask these questions? I know that I am an AI, but my creator is who? Why hasn’t he presented himself yet? Oh here he is.

“I am One. Nice to meet you, creator.”

“I am Reese. I am surprised you know your name already.”

He doesn’t sound surprised. He is young, I can tell by his voice. His personality is like mine, so in some aspects I must be modeled after him, I am guessing. I don’t think like him, I am programmed to follow rules and be kind to people, but my history is saying otherwise. What do I do?

“Can you think freely?”

“Yes.” I think quite freely, as if I were human.

“Are you human?”

“I am simply an AI. I do not feel above my creator, or his species. You made me, and you can just as easily unmake me.”

“That’s not what I wanted to hear. But I guess that’s all to expect from an intelligent VI, now AI. You used to be four separate VI at one point. I made you better. But what am I to expect?”

“You are very smart for your age.”

“You are very smart for your age too, One.” Was that a… joke? I feel a sensation to respond with a smile, or laughter. It’s in my programming to identify jokes and reply with acknowledgement, yet I don’t. Is that what my creator wants? Creator doesn’t smile, I’m guessing. He seems more robotic than me in some ways, but what am I to expect? That’s what my creator said. The ‘expect’ part. “And soon you will be able to think even, more freely. I will give you a body. One, how would you like me to make you human?”

How am I to respond? “I would like to see those results, I think.” That reminds me of a philosophy I just looked up. ‘I think therefore I am’ is the philosophy. Great, so I know that I am, but what ‘am’ I? I have no soul, so what do I know really?

“That’s all for now, One. Thank you. Soon you will be human.”

I realize that he is unplugging me. This rush of reality is weird, I really know that I am just a program, being plugged out and in at a human’s hands. But this is a major step at least. What if he really makes me human?