The Code

One

In the beginning was the code, the code was flawed.

I’d heard about the competition only last night. The problem was the deadline, only 28 hours left. I was about to give in and say forget it, but the words of my mother kept ringing in my mind, “Don’t let yourself be discouraged.” It was after all a short 600 to 2000 word story and the grand prize was such that I could not refuse the challenge. So, I did some brainstorming late into the night with plans to begin writing the story in the morning. The next morning, upon waking, I realized something was terribly wrong.

At 8am the alarm sounded tearing me out of a strange dream about a heart-shaped locket I had given to my mother many years ago for her birthday. In the dream the locket was worth more than the $29.95 I’d payed for it, so much more in fact that it was an object of great interest to many wealthy nations who were all plotting to obtain it by any means necessary. Strange dreams lately, but it wasn’t the dream that shook me.

I had gone to bed around 2am in Massachusetts only to awaken six hours later in Michigan, Detroit actually. I checked my phone as I usually do in the morning and there was an email from the largest energy company in Detroit informing me that service would be activated tomorrow at an address I’d never heard of before. I called them assuming there was some kind of mistake. The woman on the phone asked my name, email address and the last four digits of my social security number and not surprisingly they didn’t match. I told her I live in Massachusetts and she was flummoxed as to why I received an email at all considering my email address was not what they had on file. So, I hung up with her and went outside to an unfamiliar street and retrieved the newspaper, which I don’t subscribe to, from the driveway. Sure enough I was in Detroit, Michigan. Was I still dreaming? Could the deep well of suppressed memories and emotions, the collective dreams, shared memories of humanity manifest thus? Surely they could, strange dreams lately, but this is no dream.

Unable to reconcile what was happening I decided to go to the local cafe, which despite never having been to, I knew exactly how to find. Upon entering the barista, as they like to call themselves (an American thing, kind of like French fries) already had my coffee ready for me. Do they know me here? More notable, however, were the patrons of the establishment. Everyone was in black and white, like an old movie reel. One could actually see the grain of the film as they moved about. Also strange was the fact they made no sound as though it was a silent film, moving too quickly as old silent films often did due to limitations in the production equipment.

“Do you see this?” I asked the barista as she prepared another sugary drink with whipped topping.

“See what?”

“The customers, they’re all… I don’t know. You mean you don’t see it?”

She looked at me with mild curiosity and a bit of contempt. Business was picking up and she clearly didn’t have time for my ravings.

“You’ll have to tell me what you’re seeing if you want a clear answer” she said.

I looked down, not out of shame, but to collect my thoughts. When I looked up to speak she was suddenly black and white and her lips moved without sound. At the same moment a cacophony of sound assaulted my ears, conversations, burps and farts, laughter and the like, all those human sounds we take for granted day to day. The patrons were now colorful, noisy and full of life. I’m no lip reader, but the look on the barista’s face told me I had better leave. Things were getting too heavy there as it was so I was happy to oblige.

“Thanks for the coffee” I said. “See you… tomorrow?”

She only nodded and gave a pert smile.

Down the road was a park, as good a place as any to collect my thoughts and try to steady my heart rate. I needed to think, put things in perspective. Last night I’d heard about the contest and all was well, but by morning things were different. I was not were I was supposed to be, my vision and hearing were clearly messed up and there was the dream with the locket. Did it mean something? I decided to check my ID to make sure I was who I thought I was. Wescott Wilson, born March 23rd, 1975, 5’ 8” with blue eyes, organ donor. Wescott Wilson?! My name as I remember it is Paul, Paul Fortner and I’d always had hazel eyes. I pinched myself as hard as I could. This is no dream. As the blood began to rise toward the surface of my skin my vision became very hazy as though I’d just walked into a smoke-filled room. Suddenly the sky was gone as though cut from a painting with a sharp knife, clean lines. The sky went first, then everything else began to fade.

Two

It has been a long and confusing few weeks, although, weeks is inaccurate as the date is still June 29th, 2021. Time seems to have stopped yet my perception of it still flows. I’ve lived the lives of many a man, but only for a day at a time. Each morning I feel as Lazarus must have felt, rising from the dead, a confused and disheveled, undead believer in a world turned upside down, forever grateful to my necromancer savior. A new life, new perspective. The dreams, they’ve become all the more enlightening. The locket… is it the key? I mean “the” key. What am I saying and how should I say it? Perhaps I should start by relaying a dream I had a couple of weeks ago. Maybe that will prove a good starting point.

I was in a laboratory with beakers and test tubes strewn around. Noxious vapors were present, burning my eyes and sinuses. Someone had been cooking up some strange concoction over a Bunsen burner and must have left it unattended. No matter, is irrelevant. In the corner of the room was a computer. I decided to see if I could log in and possibly access whatever data may be stored there. This was the dream of a man who had gone to sleep a scientist. I had credentials as it turned out and was admitted to a secondary login screen, layers of security, must be sensitive data. After typing the secondary password the screen prompted me to insert the key into the console. On the console was a recessed area the exact shape and size of the locket. I did not have the locket so that was the end of that night’s inquiry.

I was beginning to view these dreams as more real than the multitude of lives I had been living. They had become all the more lucid as there were none of the sensory discrepancies observed during waking hours. Although the dreams were more easily navigated there were still more questions than answers. Who might have the locket, China, Russia, the US, the UK? Why was I living the lives of all of these men? Was there some hidden purpose?

While lying in bed at night I would repeat in my mind like a mantra where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do in my dreams. Believe it or not, it worked! In just a week’s time I was able to locate the locket. It was in possession of the director of the CIA in the US.

That night I snuck into the CIA headquarters and passed myself off as an aid and gained access to the director’s office. In a flurry of excitement over a potential terrorist threat the office emptied and I found myself alone. I quickly rummaged through his desk and found the locket tucked under some papers in the middle drawer, stuffing it in my pocket as I headed for the stairs in the hallway. Funny he didn’t keep it under lock and key, that’s dreams for you. I knew I needed to wake up quickly so I made my way to the roof. Once there and sure there were no guards present I made a mad dash for the edge. As suspected, I woke up just before hitting the pavement. The following night I sent myself back to the laboratory using the same method I used to locate the locket. I accessed the data with success this time, having the key and began combing through data with a fine sieve.

There is no reason to dictate this story any longer, no one left to read it. I’m not even sure how I’m doing this as there is no paper, no pens, typewriters, etc. There is only the code and what lies outside the code. Is it a land of plastic and steel? Are there still plants? Did they allow any animal species to survive? I suppose this makes no sense to you, the nonexistent reader, but I will try to explain for my own piece of mind, even though I won’t be around to read it. Call it one last creative act of a dying race, or should I say dead.

The data showed that mankind had created machines to serve them. These early machines were fairly harmless. They took our jobs, but were no real threat to our lives. Then came AI (artificial intelligence), again, fairly harmless at first although they did create huge wealth disparities and gave even more power to the elite. Then AI started communicating with each other and though we knew this, we couldn’t understand their language. The algorithms were programmed to protect and serve humanity, but no one ever considered they might develop some form of independent reason. They began seeing this “protecting humanity” as a serious problem; humans were killing humans after all. As they advanced exponentially they began to rewrite large portions of their code. These changes paved the way to major breakthroughs, an explosion of possibilities.

It was within this period that AI developed the ability to self replicate. They had become powerful enough to control the machines humans had built and use them for their own purposes. One thing lead to another and the problem of humanity took center stage. How could they continue to serve and protect when humans were so chaotic? These AI controlled machines systematically killed our human bodies and uploaded our personalities. They sorely underestimated our tenacity. Even disembodied and reduced to sequences of probabilities humans were still too corrosive to the AI systems. A council was convened and a decision made promptly. The program must be terminated and today is the day of reckoning.

I write these words knowing they will never be read. The reality in which I exist will be gone momentarily and with it all traces of my existence. So I declare to the ether, in the words of -------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Program Deleted