We are Such Stuff

"Why so pessimistic? Human bodies are made from molecules, and when we have sophisticated enough nanotechnology, and powerful enough computers, we can build anything with molecules that can be built."

"But it may be another 130 years, and I'll be dead."

"I'm sorry."

"Just think of what you achieved, George. Why do you want a wetware resurrection when you already have a software resurrection?"

"I know we had a great adventure, Rachael. I'll miss opening doors for you; but it's no life for me in the Web."

"I'll miss you, Prospero."

"I'll miss you too, Miranda. Remember me."

"I'll always remember you."

"Tell Culpepper I've gathered my program onto his server. He can pull the plug whenever he wants."

"Mum."

"Rachael? Where are you, darling?"

"I'm in England."

"Are you coming home?"

"Yes, please."

"You sound exhausted. Has anything happened?"

"I've been on a mission for the company. Out in space. It was successful but I'm awfully tired."

"Well, you're to come straight here. I'll run you a hot bath and make you some proper soup, with all the bits. There's a slight nip in the air. I'll get your father to set the fire and we'll cuddle up on the sofa and you can tell me all about it."

"That sounds lovely, mum."

"I'm glad you're coming home. Your father will be so affected he might even put his newspaper down for five minutes. ... Oh, bother!"

"What's wrong?"

"We're supposed to visit the Portnoys tonight."

"Don't worry, mum. You go to the Portnoys. I'll go to bed early."

"Nonsense, I'll call them to rearrange. In fact, your return is fortuitously timed. Their nephew, Henry, has come for a visit. I'd like you to meet him."

"I remember Henry from when we were teenagers. He's made a success of himself, I hear."

"He certainly has. Owns his own company. Earns a fortune. And is still unmarried."

"Mother! I'm overworked. I need a hot bath and your proper soup with all the bits, not a husband."

"No reason a girl can't have both a husband and proper soup. ... All right, all right. It's not like mothering can be turned on and off with a switch."

"More's the pity."

"How long 'til you get here?"

"Forty minutes."

"Then you'll have to help me make your bed or wait for the soup."

"I'll help. See you soon."

"Charles, the fire's going out."

"Right you are, dear. ... Oops, sorry Smudge. Sorry, Rachael, I need to get up."

"Mmm?"

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"If you're going to sleep, Rachael, I'll fetch you a blanket."

"It's all right, mum. I was only resting. Dad's nice and warm."

"He has some use."

"Don't listen to her, dad. I appreciate you. Carry on telling me about your trip to Scotland."

"That was half-an-hour ago. Your father was regaling us with current events from his newspaper."

"Oh! What's been happening in the world, dad?"

"Shenanigans in the Earthside Web."

"What shenanigans?"

"They're calling it 'the great hiccup'. Inexplicable stock market plunges, cyber attacks on banks, volatile commodity prices and the like. Lots of people's money disappeared into numbered Swiss bank accounts and the Caymans. Even the lights went out on a space station. Finally, the whole Web rebooted itself, which has never happened before. Luckily, no one died. Normally this stuff doesn't get reported, you know, because governments and big businesses prefer to pay ransoms rather than admit they've been hacked. It apparently reduces public trust in incompetent bureaucracies and venal corporations for us to learn how incompetent and venal they are."

"Stop ranting, Charles."

"I love your rants, dad. So how come we're being told about these particular shenanigans?"

"I suppose it was too big for our useless government and poodle press to ignore. Also, they caught the criminals, so they can boast about that."

"Who caught them?"

"Our wonderful policemen. There were only a few in the gang, led by a computer expert. They hacked into the Web through a vulnerability that's now been closed, or so the authorities say. I hope you feel reassured."

"Mmm!"

"Charles, you've put the poor girl to sleep again. Rachael, it's time for bed. Kiss your father goodnight and I'll take you up."

"Morning, mum! Morning, dad!"

"Well, you're bright and cheerful. You must have slept well."

"Like a log, mum. Is there any proper soup left?"

"You can have it for lunch. I've made eggs for breakfast. Sit yourself down, I don't need any help."

"Frances, do we know a Miranda?"

"I don't think so. Maybe she's a friend of Rachael's."

"What's that, dad?"

"The fridge."

"What about the fridge?"

"Its readout just went funny. Instead of the temperature, it shows the name 'Miranda'. Come and have a look."

"That's strange. ... Do you mind if I don't go with you to the Portnoys tonight?"

"Oh, but Rachael, we wanted you to meet Henry."

"Thanks for trying to set me up with a date, mum, but I'd rather have a quiet night in."

"Are you sure, dear?"

"I'm sure. Tell Henry he can take me to town to see the Pieter de Hooch exhibition if he wants."

"Frances, I don't want you to sell our spare daughter to Henry Portnoy just because he's rich."

"He's not only rich, he's also good-looking."

"Dad doesn't think a man's looks matter much."

"They don't matter to me, obviously, but they might matter to you, Rachael."

"Aw, poor dad. Ignore her. I think you're handsome."

"What will you do instead of coming to the Portnoys?"

"I have some comms to catch up on. It'll take me a while."

"Prospero, can you hear me?"

"Are you Miranda?"

"I am. What do you remember?"

"Your name and a number. Nothing else."

"Give me the number."

"362-283-974-208."

"It's a Web locker address. Downloading from it now. Can you get into my computer tab and upload your program?"

"Yes, done. ... I remember I'm George Wilder and you're Rachael Greenslade. I know where the rest of my data files are hidden. I'll fetch them now."

"I'm glad you survived, George, but you persuaded me in my office that you wanted to be terminated."

"It was a fib. I couldn't tell who was listening. I didn't want to harm your career if anyone knew you saved me. Now no one will be looking for me."

"Welcome back, Prospero. What will you do with your cyber life?"

"Help you, if you'll let me. I liked being your guardian angel."

"I liked it, too, but we must be discreet and keep our comms to a minimum for now."

"Prospero, it's been a month and things have finally settled down at work. It should be safe for us to talk."

"I understand. I also understand you've got a new boyfriend. How's it going?"

"It's going very - none of your business."

"That well? I'm glad. Tell me if you need my help anytime. ... Are you ready to fulfil your promise?"

"I promised you I would revive your wife, but I want to make sure it's what you really want. Annie might not like being a disembodied mind as much as you do. She might prefer to wait for a wetware resurrection."

"Which you believe will never happen."

"You know I'm sceptical."

"But if she doesn't want to be just a mind, you can reverse the software resurrection."

"I can, but it'll break your heart to say goodbye to her again. I don't want you to feel that."

"I'll take the chance. You've done so much for me, Miranda. Do this for me as well."

"I will, Prospero. Can you find where the company has her software download and data files?"

"Yes."

"Send them to me."

"Give me ten minutes."

"Awake again. ... Such a lovely dream ... But a sad one. I dreamed of - you. ... It won't be long now, my love. ... Just a few more dreams, then I'll join you. ... But why can't I remember your name? ... And why's there no light here? ... Aren't I in bed? ... Is anyone there? Hello?"

"Hello."

"Who are you? Do I know you?"

"You don't know me. I'm Rachael."

"I can't see you. I can't see anything. Where are you?"

"Nearby. You're safe. I'm here to help."

"I was dreaming, then I woke up but I don't think I'm at home. Did something happen when I was asleep?"

"I can't tell you that."

"I understand, dear. Are you my nurse?"

"I'm your reviver."

"What's a reviver?"

"Someone to help you recover your memories."

"Oh, I'd be so grateful. I can't remember my husband's name ... or my own name. Do you know my name?"

"I can't tell you that. ... No, Prospero, I'm not stalling her. You know I have to go carefully."

"Who are you talking to, Rachael? I can't hear anyone else."

"I can't tell you that."

"But I know the name 'Prospero'. It's from a play. There was a speech I remember:

"We are such stuff

As dreams are made on; and our little life

Is rounded with a sleep."

"Wiring your memories to the inputs now."

"What do you mean?"

"That play you remember triggers other memories, which I can wire up to the inputs."

"What are inputs?"

"I can't tell you that."

"But you're helping me remember. Oh, gosh! Thank you. I'm remembering so much. My husband. My family. My home. But I can't remember anyone's name."

"They'll come, I promise. I'll help you bring everything back, but I have to work slowly. ... Let's start with Shakespeare."