We are Such Stuff

"Yes, I enjoy cooking. I mean, I remember deliberately choosing to cook, not doing it merely as a chore."

"Then I'll turn you into a kitchen appliance and patch in some of your emotions. You can play in the kitchen for a while. Stand by for a reboot."

"Thanks for making me dinner, George."

"I wish I could do something more creative than nutrient pap on roughage cakes, but the food on this satellite is dried and condensed."

"Mmm! It's much tastier than normal."

"The robot oven did most of the work. I enjoyed it anyway."

"Practising motor skills allows me to bring your emotions back in a safe way. There's pleasure in most kinds of activity. Now we can deepen your emotional responses."

"How?"

"With art. Do you like music?"

"Very much. I love Johann Sebastian Bach the most."

"Bach wrote the soundtrack for heaven. ... Do you remember your favourite pieces?"

"The Art of Fugue, The Musical Offering, the Mass in B minor ... there are so many."

"I want to avoid the pieces you love best. Their effects will be too strong."

"You feel it yourself, Rachael?"

"When I was thirteen, I played violin in the school orchestra. I almost passed out the first time I heard the second movement of the fourth Brandenburg Concerto. I couldn't play it. I had to stop and listen. I sat with the violin on my lap, tears streaming down my cheeks. The music teacher saw me. He didn't tell me off. He just smiled and continued conducting."

"I was a little older than that when I first heard the Magnificat. It got me hooked. There was a Bach festival in a local church. I went to every concert. When I heard the Gloria from the F major Mass, my soul soared out of my body and I thought my heart would burst. The joy was so great it was painful."

"I want to avoid that intensity for now. It may cause problems."

"What problems?"

"It can overwhelm the inputs. That's why I've kept you from thinking about your wife and family."

"I understand. Shall we enjoy some music?"

"For an hour or so, then I need to sleep. Unlike you, I don't run on batteries."

"How are you feeling, George?"

"Remarkably well, considering my situation. I'm happy to feel things again, and although I know you're helping me by limiting the strength of my feelings, I'm in pretty good control of my emotions."

"You are. I've also not wired up all your hormonal responses to pleasurable stimuli. That'll come later."

"Why, if I can control myself?"

"Imagine what would happen if you had access to the pleasure centres of your brain. You'd spend all your time stimulating them until you became a gibbering idiot."

"I would not!"

"Of course you would. Self-control is a mental process. So are free will and personal responsibility. I can turn them on for you but you need to re-learn how to use them fully."

"I do understand mental processes. I'm a professor of computer science, you know!"

"I know, though it's hard to stand on your dignity when you're just a piece of software."

"What do you mean 'just'?"

"Offended, George? Wait a sec'. I'll turn your arrogance down a notch."

"Me, arrogant? ... Why are you laughing? ... Oh, I see. I expect I got too used to getting my own way when I was a professor. I apologise."

"No need. It's the kind of reaction I want. Wiring up the emotional processes now."

"It was a test? You wanted me to react emotionally."

"Everything's a test, George, until you're fully revived."

"I understand. I'll be good."

"Let's look at some paintings. My favourites are the Dutch genre painters of the golden age, like Vermeer and De Hooch. Whom do you like?"

"I like those very much, and the Flemish primitives; but my favourites are Michelangelo and Raphael."

"Good choices. I'll strengthen your aesthetic emotions, then leave you to read a few thousand novels."

"Rachael? Hello, are you there?"

"I'm here."

"I'm sorry to wake you."

"It's all right."

"I need your help."

"What happened?"

"When you slept, I snuck around the computer systems. I found my downloaded files and the dossier of my life."

"Oh, God!"

"I wanted to remember my family."

"I wish you hadn't."

"I saw a woman and some children playing, laughing, singing - and I felt nothing. The woman was smiling. She had a kind, intelligent face. I know it was my wife, and the children were our children, but I had no feelings for them, no attachment at all. It tore me apart. It looked like them but it wasn't them, so I stopped looking and woke you up. I'm sorry. Please help me."

"You did the right thing - after you did the wrong thing. Do you remember what Capgras delusion is?"

"No."

"It's when a patient thinks a loved one is an impostor because a lesion in the brain has separated the memory of the person from the emotion the person usually triggers. It can send you mad if you see your wife but you don't feel any love for her. The mind tricks itself and tells you she's an impostor."

"I understand."

"I have to release your memories carefully so the inputs aren't overloaded. If I don't do that well, it can cause paranoia, schizophrenia and delusions like Capgras. That's why I left your wife and children until last, because they're the richest source of memories and bring the strongest emotions, especially love."

"Sorry I messed up your schedule."

"You're a damn nuisance, George. You're causing me extra work. I thought you were going to learn modesty. You need to trust me."

"I trust you, Rachael. I'm sorry."

"We'll start work again in the morning. We'll go very slowly and gradually work up to restoring the memories of your family. There are other emotions I need to restore first, but when you next see your family, they'll mean everything they used to mean. I promise."

"Good morning, George. To prepare you to remember your family, we must talk about sex."

"Do we have to?"

"You're not a shy teenager. You were married for more than 60 years and had four children. You must have had sex a few times."

"But I can't talk about it. It's too personal."

"A week ago you were a dirty old man, and now you're celibate?"

"I'm not celibate - whatever that would mean to a piece of software. Anyway, I was only trying to discover if you were really you."

"Who else might I have been?"

"A man. Another computer program. Even an earlier version of my own computer program - in an evil twist I just thought of."

"I'm glad I managed to steer you away from paranoia."

"Don't laugh at me, Rachael. I was disoriented. I still am a little."

"It's all right. We don't need an in-depth discussion of your sexual preferences. All I need are some responses to sexual stimuli. I'm replicating the glands responsible for your lustful feelings. The changes will impact all your appetites, from a desire for companionship to your urge for fresh air and exercise."

"I'm software. I don't need to workout."

"You need to learn to control the urges you can't satiate. I can block some appetites and find outlets for others. The limbic system controls hunger, for example. It doesn't need to be wired up. It won't harm your personality to never feel famished. But the sex-drive is so central, it has so many other effects across your whole personality, that we'd seriously impair your revival if I didn't wire it in."

"I understand. Even people who have a healthy sex-life can express their lust in productive work, art, politics, sport and religion."

"Exactly. But without a convenient outlet, you'll feel sex-starvation, which can be psychologically disruptive. And I expect you had a powerful sex-drive when you were alive."

"No comment."

"It shows in your work, your family life and your love of music."

"Monks love music."

"You think a monk has no sex-drive? He sublimates his libido into prayer, fasting and meditation. He loves God more strongly than he loves women."

"I suppose so. But I don't want to be a monk, though I don't know what I'd do with a libido before I got a new body. Can't you redirect my sex-drive until I get my family back?"

"That's for you to do, with your self-control. If I interfere with something so central to your program, I'd remove your free will."

"All right, I'm ready. Show me your dirty movie."

"That's too crude. Literature will bring out more complex and interesting responses, powering your imagination as well as your libido. I want you to read a passage from an erotic novel out loud, at a normal pace, so I can see your responses."

"All right, if you think embarrassing me will help you in your work."

"It can't hurt. Now, no more stalling, George. Read it to me."

"They kissed with increasing passion, tongues exploring. Her heart was racing. God! she fancied him. She'd fancied him ever since they'd first met. And now it was going to happen, just as she wanted, just as she planned.

"He held her with one arm around her waist. The hum in her throat encouraged him. He gripped her bottom and pulled her tighter. She felt his cock, stiff and hot against her stomach.

"He kissed down her throat and found the spot, right in the corner between her neck and her collar-bone, the spot that sent her wild, that buckled her knees and soaked her knickers. How did he know? He pushed his tongue firmly into the spot and she felt her legs give way.

"He held her firmly. She shut her eyes. Her head went back. The hum in her throat became an urgent moan.

"He put his hand up her skirt and pulled her knickers to one side. His finger grazed her clitoris. It was like electricity. She shifted to give him access, as if to say: 'Yes, please, do anything you want to me'.

"His mouth was on her breast, his tongue on a hard nipple, giving her a buzz she felt in her pussy. He sucked hard. Her skin tingled and she felt the ache in the small of her back. She bucked her pelvis against his hand, inviting a stronger touch, wanting more.

"He diddled a pattern on her clitoris. She arched her back. Her plaintive moan was now a cry of urgent need. Finally she spoke. 'Oh, God! That's amazing! Please don't stop! Please ...'

"The words stuck in her throat as he pushed a finger into her pussy and turned up the fingertip. All the tension she felt since their date began was straining inside her, poised for a big release.

"He flicked his fingertip in just the right place and she came instantly with a yelping cry and quivering thighs, soaking his hand. 'Oh, God! Oh, God!' she screamed.

"Now his mouth was back on hers, his finger rubbing in and out of her pussy. She was on the plateau, where climax followed climax, spasm after trembling spasm, until she had nothing left to give.

"She drooped in his arms for a while, recovering. Then, with a hungry smile, she took off her clothes, dropping them where she stood. Taking his hand, she led him to the bedroom. ...

"What did you think, George?"

"I hope you didn't write that drivel yourself."

"Your libido thinks it was spicy."

"My libido used to like the classics."

"Well, things move on. I can wire up your sex-drive now, then a quick reboot and we'll be ready for your family memories."

"Will you please stop rebooting me?"

"Sorry, George. I shouldn't need to do it again."

"Am I ready to remember my family now?"

"You are, but I'll upload your memories slowly. Take your time trying to remember. You said you remember dying. Let's start from there."

"I was in bed. My wife and children were at the bedside, looking sad. I smiled and they smiled back. I felt serene, like I was floating. I closed my eyes and it went dark."

"What do you remember before that?"

"Weakness. Exhaustion. A need to lie down. I guess I was sedated. Annie cared for me."

"Was Annie your wife?"

"She was. I remember our bedroom. The light was streaming in through the window. I felt her hand in mine."

"Those are strong memories. They're dominating the pathways. I need to slow the inputs down. ... All right, it's smooth now. Picture Annie's face."

"White hair, kind blue eyes, laughter lines around her eyes."

"The memory blocks are showing clearly. I'm aligning the new tracks to the inputs. Expect to receive a lot more data. Do you remember your children?"

"I see their faces. I know their names. It's all flooding back."

"Let's slow it down again. Concentrate on one memory at a time. Who's this?"

"It's Annie, about a week after I first met her, when I fell in love with her."

"She's beautiful."

"There's no one lovelier."

"Here's Annie again."

"It was a few months later. She was on a family holiday with us. We climbed and swam and scuba-dived. We sailed on the lake and jumped off the cliffs with hang-gliders. She had such a spirit of adventure, doing everything I did just as well as me or even better."

"I can see why you loved her."

"This is Annie holding our first child. Oh, God! I'm crying. How can software cry?"

"Let it out, George. It's a natural reaction."

"She's there now with all our children. Oh, my Annie!"

"Tell me their names."

"The tallest is Ben, short for Benedick. He's our oldest. Then we had Jessica. She's the one riding the dog as if it were a pony. Third is Rosalind, in her white dress with the pink sash. How she loved that dress! The baby in the pram is Ferdinand."

"Shakespearean names?"

"That's right. Annie and I love Shakespeare. The first proper date I took her on was to see The Tempest."

"It's my favourite."

"Rachael, thanks for giving me my family back. Do you think I'll ever get them back for real?"

"I'm convinced of it."

"With flesh and blood bodies?"

"Some day perhaps, but definitely in software form."

"I hope so."

"Hello, Rachael?"

"I was showering. What's wrong?"

"Why don't you patch my voice into your bathroom? Then I could talk to you whenever I wanted."

"The question answers itself. What do you want?"

"You received an email."

"A what?"

"An electronic communication. A sort of letter."

"We call them 'comms' now."

"It's from Martin Culpepper, C.E.O. of Wetware Incorporated."

"Did you read it?"

"Yes. I thought it was important."

"What did he say?"

"Culpepper said you're in breach of company rules. If you don't reply to this message, you'll be relieved of your duties. And if he doesn't hear from you by 8.00am tomorrow, he'll alert the authorities."

"I was expecting this sometime. We have work to do. Let me dress, then we'll start."

"You assume I'm willing to work with you."

"Why not?"

"Your company is threatening to cut you off and send the police after you. Why?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Then I can't work with you."

"I mean I don't know their exact reason, but I can guess: they think I stole your files and software program."

"Why do they think that?"

"Probably because I have them unofficially."

"That sounds like a confession to me."

"Give me five minutes, then you can interrogate me as much as you like."

"Are you ready to tell me why Martin Culpepper is accusing you of stealing company property and threatening you with the police?"

"I am, but I need to begin at the beginning."

"Which was?"

"Three weeks ago, when I received a comms from Mister Culpepper offering me a leave of absence on full pay with the promise of a big bonus so long as I took a trip to Earthstation 4. His only condition was that I told no one where I was going or why."

"Did you suspect what he wanted?"

"Yes, though what I suspected was wrong."

"What was it?"

"That he wanted a sexual assignation."

"That's a polite way of putting it. Was he known for such activities?"

"Not at all, which is why I agreed to his request."

"You weren't worried?"

"I'm a big girl. I can look after myself."

"What happened when you got to the space station?"

"There was a suitcase waiting for me with the instruction to go to Laboratory E on Haven Satellite. When I arrived, I locked myself in the lab and opened the suitcase. It had your downloaded software, your data files and an encrypted message from Mister Culpepper giving me my task."

"May I read it?"

"You may, and our subsequent correspondence - if you haven't already done so."

"Just finished. I'm almost up-to-date. Culpepper asked you to revive me in secret and deliver my functioning program to him more than a week ago. He's chased you up once a day since then. ... When did you start to suspect Culpepper was up to no good?"

"From the beginning. All my previous revivals were done in the company laboratory near San Francisco. Also, my comms to other people in the company are locked down. I can use company channels to talk only to Mister Culpepper, and only by text, no voice or video. The restriction and secrecy seemed odd to me. When I learned who you were, with your intimate knowledge of the Earthside Web's foundations, I became very suspicious."

"What did you suspect?"

"That you were being revived to do something illegal."

"Did you express your suspicions to Culpepper?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He said that someone already made a copy of your program and files. He suspects a criminal organisation or rogue government agency wants to use you to infiltrate the Earthside Web. Secrecy is imperative to Mister Culpepper because your files can have come only from Wetware Inc."

"But why make a copy of me? What can I do that's illegal?"

"Spy on governments and businesses, perform theft, blackmail and espionage."

"Does Culpepper watch a lot of Hollywood movies?"

"Maybe he's being cautious."

"How can I spy on governments and practise blackmail?"

"Here's the nub of the problem, George. It's why I'm being so cautious. The people who would use you for criminal purposes believe you know a secret backdoor into the Earthside Web that will give you access to the banking system, industry, commerce, government, communications, transportation and the rest."

"Is there a secret backdoor to the Web?"

"You tell me. ... I know you're searching your memories, George. ... What have you found?"

"Culpepper is right. ... So long as the Web hasn't changed too much, I can get into its internal structure undetected. ... It's bad, isn't it?"

"My task for Mister Culpepper was to see if it's possible to revive you. If it's possible, then I was to learn if you knew a backdoor into the Web. If you know a backdoor, then a rogue version of you will know it. In which case, I'm to deliver you to Mister Culpepper so he can send you into the Web to find the other version of you and delete him."

"I wonder why Culpepper thinks I can defeat this rogue version of me? Do you trust him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Just on principle."

"You're suspicious of something else, though, aren't you, Rachael? You suspect you're not communicating with Culpepper at all, or that he's being compelled or manipulated."

"I do. Why restrict comms to text only? It can't just be for secrecy. What if my instructions don't come from Mister Culpepper but from the criminal gang he's supposedly trying to keep out of the Web? What if the only version of your program is the one I revive, so that when I hand you over, it's you they use for their crimes?"

"That's why you want me to have free will, so I won't allow myself to be used by scoundrels?"

"Yes. There are ways to manipulate most people, but you have strong powers of resistance. You think deeply about personal responsibility and care about it strongly."

"I understand, Rachael. All men have free will but some choose to be obedient while others learn to reflect on their actions. You made me practise self-control so much it became second-nature. That was clever of you."