Almost every piece of the puzzle fit. That almost bothered Dr. Frampton. She looked at all the angles. What she could surmise obliterated all of her notions that these synths could one day be immortal. Their components consisted of a hybrid of human flesh and the latest in mechanical wizardry. By observing how they moved, their fluidity, their flair, they walked, talked, and acted like humans. And just like humans, they could experience death. 

The total amount of spreadsheets in front of her face showed the graphs that corresponded to the average lifespan of a synth. About two hundred years separated them from man. They weren’t, though, indestructible. As with the original Monica model, they can be damaged and even destroyed. Left untouched, though, and they could last centuries. Like a tinker smoothing out the edges of a metal doll, Dr. Frampton glided over the data and ensured that all of the information corresponded to her original plans. In the beginning, she wanted the synths to have everlasting “life.” Of course, she had to reconcile with the results. Everything looked good until she got to the termination phase of each synth. This bothered her. 

A few sips of coffee with an extra shot of espresso made her energetic, focused. She returned to the numbers. That’s what she understood. The data showed the percentages of each fall, fire, vandalism, and other calamities that befell the synths. In her mind, she held the notion she could one day change the trajectory of the lifespan of her creations. With her background in biochemistry, Dr. Frampton saw the numbers and noticed that they had related to what she had done in college. This moment appeared to be a breakthrough for her. What she had to do consisted of ensuring that the synths could be fire retardant, drown-proof, bomb-proof, bulletproof, and any other proof to become eternal. 

Then she looked at more numbers that alarmed her. A quick glance at this set of data almost made her ill. Some of the synths had deviated away from being docile, rights-respecting creations and into murderous monsters. The amount of deaths at the hands of synths bothered her to an extreme point. Lawsuits had been filed. They represented the number, although scant, of the homicidal products. It was just under one hundred since Dr. Frampton launched the program. That was too many. She wanted that number brought down to zero.

Rejiggering the amount of different pieces of data proved to be agonizing work. Alone, she relished the thought of being completely independent in this regard. Everything she had worked for came up to this time. In recognition of her powers over the various points, she discussed within herself deep points. 

“Keija,” she spoke aloud. “We’re going to have to make this work. I don’t give a damn about anything other than making these synths impossible to kill unless they’ve committed some crime. There must be some kind of code to enter to show that we can stop them from continuing after doing some heinous act. What must we do? We ought to take seriously our role in exploring the roles they play….” These conversations within herself often led to overcoming challenges that she didn’t even know could be surmounted. Dr. Frampton, nevertheless, always stood up for a challenge. 

With a notion to institute a program with Bellinda’s learned machines, she wished to excel at the thought of making smarter, more resistant synths. Her mind was like a cyclotron, producing energy accelerated at high speeds. This breakneck pace enticed and enlivened Dr. Frampton. She took another sip of coffee. Three screens showed the different sets of numbers. All of it she took into her thinking process. Every bit of data gave way to another startling and wondrous illumination in her mind. She didn’t see numbers anymore. Her thoughts consisted of walking and talking synths that interacted with human beings. 

As a founder of Smartystan, she took to mind the reality of government controls and regulations. They had all but throttled the other states. When the United States granted the new nation-state with defense at a minimal tax along with courts and police, she knew the heads of state would expect the place to fail. The synths proved just one aspect of the success of the place. The knowledge of the crimes against humans and other synths notwithstanding, the program proved to be wonderful. Each of the owners of the synths could afford whatever one though chose based on their income level. Car companies like Goulding even had deals with SmartSynths to produce high end synthetic beings.

Dr. Frampton observed the screens like a falcon stalking its prey. She put more emphasis on the fact she could use her skills as a scientist to defeat the ever-growing fears of misunderstanding and misdirection. More sips of coffee produced more boosts of energy in her. She detailed every instance where there could be a snag. But without government intrusion into her business, she knew she could do anything. The freedom which sprouted out from Declaration 3 permitted her, liberated her to extend her reign as the ruler over all synths. 

All contracts meant that with every accident or intentional act, the synth would ultimately be decommissioned or completely destroyed by fire. Her rule was not like a queen’s but as a CEO of a mult-billion-dollar corporation. It was not to gather human beings under a single whip and beat them into submission. It was to explore the multi-faceted world of cybernetics. This interaction between man and living synthetic being had to be seamless. Already noted, she could rattle off the amount of times the synths behaved poorly, malfunctioned, or even committed a “sin.” She knew that they represented amorality. A few more sips of coffee spurred Dr. Frampton considered the idea of making the synths respond to their owners in a way that they couldn’t before. “Could some synths own other synths? If one is killed by another, does that mean that the offender must be decommissioned? Yes.” She spoke to herself and answered in turn. Her monologues always surprised her and gave her a jolt of comprehension beyond what was expected of her. She demanded of herself more than her subordinates or co-CEO in Bellinda. 

To resist the urge to become stagnant and languish in the halls of her own making, Dr. Frampton used her expertise to take the numbers and run them through various programs. This allowed her to see in real time all of the ways the synth lives could be made clear. Their lives depended on humans and other synths. But what frustrated Dr. Frampton the most was obviously the deaths of the owners but also the people that refused to use the synths, even after improvements in their programming made them resist harming anyone or anything. A stylus and a digital pad became her weapons of choice as she jotted down all the connections of the numbers. Furiously, she wrote, and she wrote, and she wrote. In her mind, a blinding light presented itself. Though still a problem, she nonetheless continued with contemplating destruction to life and property as perpetrated by the synths.

Tucked away in her spacious corner office, she kept on wrestling with numbers. Every one of them showed her where to best place her ideas matched with the data. Almost in an instant, she had stumbled onto something which had occurred even before Monica’s demise at Dr. Strong’s household. She came across an article showing how a housewife had wanted to obtain a synth to aid her in her daily chores. The synth had been fine up until the point where it became overly aggressive and sexually assaulted the woman. Dr. Frampton’s brow furrowed. She tasted a bit of metal in her mouth. Whether it was from the coffee or that sickening streak of bile that had come up from her stomach re-reading this post from when Delaware was still a part of the Union and Smartystan had yet to be devised. 

Beads of sweat clung to her forehead. There seemed to be no escaping the fact she had gone down not just the rabbit hole but almost to the mantle. What she re-discovered only brought more frustration, even rage. For one of her creations to do this, not to mention the other bad actors produced by her mind didn’t sit well with her at all. Dr. Frampton wanted to break free from her office and run into the streets and yell, “Let the synths live!” Even with all of the ugliness caused by her creations, there still existed some elements of passion and compassion, liberty and restraint, and even the divine. By knowing about all the different ways the synths could interact to be civil, she remembered the contracts with the government…how they wanted to use the synths for war. Dr. Frampton had agreed upon it. She surmised that the loss of life or limb or psychic state would be ultimately less costly than a human warrior dying on the battlefield. 

In reality, the government had been cash-strapped since the revolution and knew that it should not engage in any wars. The way the world around Smartystan had devolved proved that they had taken the proper steps. These notions propelled Dr. Frampton to become even clearer in her resolve to bring justice to her synths. She would stand on the vanguard, protecting them from the onslaught of ill-will and horrific intentions. She took the data, the story, the entirety of the situation and made the call to let the synths be safe for humans and themselves. She had set out to already do this but she couldn’t deny the results. The reality came to her with the strike of lightning in her thoughts. A bolt flashed across her consciousness. She knew what she had to do.

By opening up a new document, she prepared to write her own manifesto on where SmartSynths would go from here. She pounded away at the keys, ideas tumbling from her like water from a wellspring. This bounty of thoughts kept spilling out and spilling. Her ideas passed the margins. Everything seemed to be in sync, until she hit a brick wall. The homicides. The sexual assault. These issues had to be faced, stared down with a sentry’s precision and sense of guardianship. She addressed them in detail. To not shirk them, to not go around them but through them powered her esteem and gave rise to new thoughts. In essence, Dr. Frampton proclaimed she could correct those dire errors. In doing so, she felt the jolt of the coffee and it propelled her to keep going. Proceeding meant that she could confront the problems of the company and institute new roles to better serve individuals. 

That’s what she wanted for the country-state in the beginning. It was why Dr. Strong drafted the Declaration 3. Just for reasons like this, they all wished to see a brighter day in the way of not only the government, but the lives of human beings in this tiny location. She kept typing, every instance where she could continue to project her ideas on the page, Dr. Frampton wrested it from the clutches of malaise and indecision. It poured out from her with a mighty stream of words and numbers. Everything she placed down into the digital ether allowed her to keep going with gusto. As the head of the synth division of the company, she knew that her words would stir up enough resolve and reflection to have them carried out in rapid succession. 

To keep up with herself, she sipped the last bit of coffee and allowed the caffeine to continue to flow through her system. “Keij’, I think we’ve got something here.” Her words spoken aloud almost seemed to hang in a vacuum. By reassuring herself, she became even more focused on ending this missive. The power she wielded showed up and showed out with her verve and wit. 

Chintan Jani

Smartystan

Biochemistry

Almost every piece of the puzzle fit. That almost bothered Dr. Frampton. She looked at all the angles. What she could surmise obliterated all of her notions that these synths could one day be immortal. Their components consisted of a hybrid of human flesh and the latest in mechanical wizardry. By observing how they moved, their fluidity, their flair, they walked, talked, and acted like humans. And just like humans, they could experience death. 



Smartystan

Biochemistry

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Skyler Saunders

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Businesswoman Chapter 155

Smartystan

Biochemistry

This is an Exclusive Story for supporters of .css-13w9qce-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-accent);}Skyler Saunders

About the Creator

Skyler Saunders

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Businesswoman Chapter 155

This is an Exclusive Story for supporters of Skyler Saunders