Entry 24

Though aliens were traversing the air without problem, I expected Ven to plummet into the roaring waters beneath. It is one thing to see an alien do something. Aliens are so unreal that if I had seen them walking on water or swimming through space I would not have been surprised. However, as far as I knew Ven was completely human. Humans could not defy the laws of physics.

And yet Ven did not fall to his death. He stood on thin air, just like all the aliens.

“Of course there is a floor,” Ven answered. “It’s simply transparent. This is a hall like any other, with a floor, ceiling, and walls. Now come on, Carlee. We don’t want to bring attention to ourselves.” I stared at him, not comprehending for a moment, until I realized he had insinuated that my staring at him like an idiot might tip the anthropologists off that we did not belong. I certainly did not want to be recaught, so though it went against my better judgment, I stepped out onto nothing.

I held my breath, still not certain that I would not fall. However, nothing felt different from when I had been standing in the visible hall. Before I could even take a moment to adapt to this new situation, Ven grabbed my elbow and began to pull me along the hall.

“Standing and staring about like a tourist is going to give us away,” he said. “These sort of bridges and buildings are everywhere in the galaxy. It was all the rave about an Earth century ago when this area of the headquarters was built. It’s just a bridge between two buildings, between the lecture hall buildings and the android building.”

“So that building up there is where John is?” I asked, avoiding looking down and instead looking ahead to the domed white building that I could see aliens stepping in and out of.

“Yes,” Ven answered. “It is the building where they manufacture and process androids.” My eyes widened at that thought. It was a large building. It reminded me of the Georgia Dome in size. Surely the entire building could not be filled with androids.

“That’s a lot of androids,” I said.

“It’s only a fraction,” Ven responded. “Most of the androids are on planets. After the anthropologists recover an android from primitive world, they don’t keep its physical body for very long. They upload the information they need and store the hard drive, but they recycle the body. So most of the building is actually devoted to manufacturing the androids. The Society of Anthropologists is leading the industry right now.”

“That seems odd,” I said. “So do they sell androids?”

“Not usually, but occasionally as fundraisers they might sell the androids after their stint on primitive worlds to collectors,” Ven answered. “They will also custom make an android for anyone who is willing to ‘donate’ quite a lot to the Society. Most people just buy their androids from the usual industry manufacturers. The Anthropologists publish papers on the technology they create, and so it eventually leaks down into the regular industry.”

“So John is like top of the line?” I asked, becoming nervous. If their androids were so advanced, would they not have high security around them? Otherwise, their industry competitors could just steel an android to get their technology.

“Top of the line?” Ven repeated, clearly not understanding the phrase.

“He’s the best there is in android technology,” I clarified.

“Basically,” Ven answered with a shrug. “I’m not really up to date on the android industry.” He wouldn’t be, since he hated androids so much.

“Wait, you said earlier that they don’t keep the physical bodies long,” I suddenly realized. Yes, I know I was slow to process, but Ven was giving me a lot of information. My brain can only process so much. “Will they have destroyed John’s?”

“Depends,” Ven answered with a shrug. “As I’ve said: I am not an android expert.”

Panic began to spread through me. What if John’s body was destroyed? Would that mean he was dead? But they would have downloaded his hard drive. I have never been an expert on computers, but I guessed that a computer’s hard drive was something like its brain. If they did not destroy John’s brain, then did that mean he was still alive? If we could find his hard drive, perhaps we could find him a new body.

An image of John speaking from C-3PO’s body filled my mind as I thought of him getting a new body. Would John be the same person if he was in a different body? How much of the body determined who a person was? But John was not a person according to Ven. The stubborn non-Earth man insisted that John was just like a computer. When someone’s computer crashes, they recover all the files from the hard drive and get a new computer. It’s barely a blip on their radar except for how much money it costs. No one has moral qualms about replacing their computers.

Except John’s sci-fi fanatic friend. She always insists on naming each other her computers, and she contends that each computer seems to have a character of its own.

So if John’s brain was placed in another body, would it change his character?

Suddenly I was reminded of that episode of the original Star Trek where Spock has his brain stolen. His brain is transplanted into what is essentially a computer. However, whether in a computer or his body, Spock seemed to be the same exact unemotional, curious Vulcan. Strangely enough, that odd episode of Star Trek reassured me that John would be alright, as long as we could recover his hard drive. When I rescued John, I would have to thank him for forcing me to watch all those old episodes of Star Trek.

While lost in thought, we had entered the next domed building. I was no longer walking on nothing, which gave me back much of the confidence I had lost on the bridge. I followed Ven who walked purposefully, his dark eyes scanning the wall for a directory.

Ven found one easily, activating and studying it. I tried to study the map as well, but I could make neither heads nor tails of it. Maybe if it had been in English I would have stood a chance. Maybe.

“This is still a general directory,” Ven said with a frown. “Looks like they keep a more active system in charge of the androids. It’s better security that way. We’ll have to find the portal.”

“The portal?” I asked as Ven stepped away from the wall, the directory closing down.

“Yes,” Ven answered. “Passive systems like these directories are everywhere, but portals for the actively controlled systems are in very distinct places. Luckily the directory has directions to the portal.”

“So we’re going to have to talk to someone?” I asked. In my mind an “actively controlled system” translated to a system that was controlled by a person, like a secretary who was tasked with keeping track of all the androids.

“Not someone,” Ven responded. “Something. We’ll have to have a conversation with this building’s Artificial Cognizant.” My mind chewed on those words for a moment before I could begin to respond.

“Is that like an artificial intelligence?” I asked. “Isn’t that like an android?” I thought of that movie AI with Haley Joel Osment.

“No,” Ven answered. “Androids are considered in the class of ‘synthetic sentient’, though that term is hotly disputed. Many of us are trying to get the name changed to ‘synthetic cognizant’.” I frowned, not entirely understanding the semantic difference. I’m not sure I still do. I understand the argument, but I think the different is trivial.

“So what is an Artificial Cognizant?” I asked.

“You’ll see in a moment,” he answered. “The portal is up ahead.” He motioned ahead.

I looked and saw that the hall opened into a large atrium. Aliens stood about, talking in groups. Spaced about the room where five raised platforms. Some had an alien standing in them. The aliens on the platform studied the air intently and seemed to be talking to themselves. No one paid them any attention.

“Ah, an empty portal,” Ven said. He suddenly changed direction and headed towards one of the platforms. I held my tongue instead of arguing that we were heading to an empty platform. I was beginning to learn that the universe was a place I did not understand, and that things were not as they seemed.

Ven stepped onto one of the empty platforms, and I followed, sticking close to him.

Suddenly the air around us shimmered and a human male appeared before us. He looked completely average: average height, average build, black hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, and middle aged. It was as if someone had picked a stereotypical human male.

“Ven Barker,” the man said with a smile. “What brings you and our new specimen, Miss Earhart, to my portal?”