Lost In Paradise: Chapter One (Patreon)

(A LOT of requests for this one. This won't be a daily post, but I will show everyone my progress through the rough draft. This will get a lot of editing and polishing before the final is published, but as a Patreon you get the benefit of seeing it first!)

This will make a lot more sense if you've read this: https://www.patreon.com/posts/changes-in-64271415 

One Year Later

Sara sat on the couch with her legs pulled up underneath her chain-smoking. Her ashtray was overflowing. She hadn’t showered in days, her hair was a ratted mess, and all she seemed able to do was watch shows on the NatureFeeds.

I sat next to her and set down the food I’d just pulled from the printer.

“What the fuck is that?" she said, but it sounded more like “Wha tha fu is tha?”

“Chicken with beef, just like you wanted."

“But it has vegetables in it."

“Well, it’s soup, so yeah."

“How the fuck am I supposed to eat SOUP, John?”

“Maybe with a spoon?" I said in a small voice.

She looked at me with danger in her eye. She didn’t like to use eating utensils, hell, given her own devices she wouldn’t even eat with her hands.

She held out her hand, limply, and I put the spoon in it. She lowered the spoon into the bowl, filled it, and raised it slowly up to her mouth. Most of the soup fell out, but she was able to get a couple of pieces of meat which she chewed open-mouthed. I smiled but gritted my teeth against the way she chewed. It was a bit of a pet peeve of mine to see people chew with their mouths open, and she hadn’t quite mastered the art of it yet.

“This is going to take me all day, John."

I nodded, sighing, and scooped up the next spoonful. She smiled and received it gratefully.

As I fed her, I thought back to the year we’d had together. It hadn’t been easy. Something like teaching a stroke victim to walk, talk and well, eat again. I know people had been relearning these skills for years and people had been helping people relearn these skills for years, but it took a high amount of patience on both persons’ part not to kill said person when they did something to step on your last nerve.

Problem was, it wasn’t just like recovering from a stroke.

In the weeks she’d been a canine she had lost nearly all concept of what it was to be human. Walking, Talking, and eating was one thing, but dogs had completely different values when it came to bodily functions, manners, and hygiene. She just didn’t care about those things anymore. She couldn’t see why people worried about staying clean, showering, eating without drooling, and the use of a toilet. It had taken me a long time to remind her and she still had lapses.

I glanced at her soulthrum and it still showed almost all gray tinged with orange with very little headway being made in the other direction. Sighing, I spooned her soup into her mouth.

“Someone rang the doorbell while you were on your walk," Sara said.

“Oh? Who was it?”

“I don’t know."

“You didn’t answer it?”

She shook her head looking down." I didn’t know…for some reason I just didn’t…couldn’t."

“It’s okay, I’m sure whoever it was will be back."

She shook her head, closing her eyes. "Why didn’t I know, John? Such a simple thing like answering the door. What’s wrong with me?”

“We both know the answer to that."

She nodded and I could see tears spilling down her face. "I feel like I’m never going to be normal again."

I sighed. Her voice wasn’t right either. There was no inflection. I’d spoken with deaf people who had worked to learn to speak, and Sara’s inflection was similar. Her words slushed together in a loud monotone. It made her stand out even more.

I put the spoon down and pulled her into my arms. She allowed herself to be held for a bit, then struggled to get out of my grasp. That was another thing that had changed…she was no longer attracted to me in the slightest, and any kind of hug or affection I showed her didn’t ring “true."

“Sorry," I said.

“It’s okay, John." The way she said it sounded like “Ish, okah, Shhjahhh”

I was out of my depth. She was sinking further and further into depression. At first, she’d been excited to learn everything it was to be human-like she’d been excited to learn everything about being a dog. However, when she couldn’t connect her canine experience to something human, it jarred her. It was like she’d completely forgotten what it was to be human, how to act, how to behave, likes and dislikes, all of it. She was still Sara, there was no doubt about it. But she had fundamentally changed.

I glanced down at myself. I’d fundamentally changed too. In an effort to try to gain her attraction back, I’d returned to being male and mostly my old self. I was a bit thinner and shorter due to the loss of mass, but I was gaining it back again through hard work, diet, exercise, and all the rest. I’d given up smoking and drinking completely, which was tough considering how much Sara now smoked. I wanted to get back into fighting shape and I’d never do that if I was smoking regularly.

“I’m a dog who thinks she’s a human."

“Shhh, no you aren’t," I said, stroking her hair. "You’re a human who was wounded terribly by illegal genomic procedures enacted upon you."

She began crying. "I can’t read. I can’t walk right. I can’t talk. I can barely remember how to use the toilet or brush my teeth. I can’t dress myself." She pulled at the sweater I’d put on her that morning. "I HATE the feeling of clothes, hate having to wear stupid shoes! I can’t smell ANYTHING! I can’t scratch places that itch right, and my eyes, OH MY GOD, all the colors are giving me such a headache! I can’t stand it anymore, John, I can’t! I’m going insane!”

She lurched to her feet. "I have to go to the bathroom, John!”

I stood with her, holding her.

Holding her under her armpit, I helped her walk. She lurched forward, placing each foot in front of her carefully, her arms flailing outward with every step.

After she took care of her business, I helped her back to the couch.

In a year, this was the progress she’d made. She could walk to the bathroom assisted, but at least that was progress over how she was immediately after being placed in Syn’s body. It had been a long road, and we still had a long way to go, but at least she could speak somewhat now, walk and sit upright. She was learning how to eat with utensils again and a few other things like sleeping in the prone position instead of curled up in a ball.

Both of our nerves were at an end, however, and I didn’t see how we’d be able to take the next steps. She’d begun to regress. The previous week she’d been able to hold a spoon and eat with it, yet now she could barely keep it in her hand.

I sighed. I didn’t want her to regress, but Carlos had warned me of this.

Her dog body had been healed and put into a suspended animation in case her recovery took a turn for the worse and her brain rejected Syn’s body. We hadn’t given it any serious thought in a long while, but right now…

No, I couldn’t let her defeat herself.

“Look, you can do this. We can do this together. I’m right here, not going anywhere, and we are going to keep fighting until you are laughing and dancing again. Do you hear me?”

She nodded, but I could see the look of defeat on her face.

I sighed, eating my own bowl of soup while Sara pulled the tab on another cigarette.

It wasn’t like we could “go” anywhere either. The problem was pretty simple. Sara wore the body of a known killer, illegal genomic, and overall psychotic narcissistic bitch. So, for her to stroll into a router would mean immediate arrest until they could sort things out. Once sorted, her ID would be confirmed to be that of my dog and eventually, they’d learn of her body held in stasis and they’d desire to place her identity back inside said body.

The case against CREAM was still pending, even a year later. The prosecution was taking its damned sweet time gearing up to lay charges against the people left who represented The Coalition. All records of the case had been sealed pending the investigation, effectively leaving us in limbo. Benny had secured our return to New Phoenix, but his final words had been “don’t go anywhere. We’ll need ya."

Kincaid was dead. Syn was dead…well, probably. The rest of the group were sitting in various detention facilities awaiting their turn in court. I had never been paid for my time, of course, since the person who had originally hired me, Kincaid, had his head ripped off by David Pressler the lion. My savings and options dwindled each day.

I needed a case. Something to take my mind off all of this, bring in some income and revive my sense of self-worth.

I pulled up various newsfeeds, scanning for anything I might possibly be able to assist with. Glancing over at Sara, I realized it would have to be something local, something I could continue to tend to her while bringing in lots of money for us.

Easy.

Fifteen minutes later, the door chimed. I pulled up the entry screen on my security feed and saw Benjamin Paxton standing on my porch.

I reached up and absently patted my hair, an unconscious gesture I still couldn’t get rid of. I got up off the orgacouch and went to the door.

“Hey, stranger," I said softly.

He grinned at me." Well, hello. I bet you weren’t expecting to see me again."

“Come on in," I said. "Excuse the mess, we are still…reconditioning."

He nodded and we entered. "Can I interest you in a beverage printed from the finest of whatever-the-fuck they put in kitchen reconstitutors?”

“As tasty as that sounds, no thank you." He sat down at my small kitchen table. It was covered in detritus from various wrappers, water globes, cigarette packaging and other trash.

“What can I do ya for?" I said.

“Well, I wanted to see you. We parted on…less than the best of terms."

“Last time I saw you, you were part of the Ursidae Mammalian family."

“And you wore a lovely crimson lipstick."

I smiled, feeling myself blush. "I guess we’ve come a long way."

“I guess we have," he said. "So how has her recovery been?”

I looked over at Sara who smoked and watched us, quietly. "How goes your recovery, honey?”

“Terrible." She said, sounding like Tarrable.

He nodded and placed a sympathetic hand on hers. "I’m sorry."

She jerked and I knew she was trying to shrug or get away from the feeling of his hand on hers.

“Well, I have an opportunity for you both."

I raised my eyebrows. "Yeah?”

He nodded. "I had my recovery in the New Chicago Sinai Hospital. I met a doctor there who specializes in animal-to-human conversions. Apparently, we aren’t the first to be subjected to this type of genomic event. He specializes in bringing even the most hopeless cases back to full recovery."

I felt my heart lift a bit. Sara looked at him. "What’s the cost?”

Benjamin smiled. "The cost would be nothing."

“I don’t believe you," she said, in that monotone loud voice.

He shrugged. "Believe it or not, I’ve arranged for the both of you to be transported to Sinai. Through physical transport, not through a routerport.

Sara glanced at me.

“He means we’d drive there, honey."

She nodded. "What’s the cost?”

I looked at Benjamin. "My Lady has a point. Why would you do this for us?”

He smiled. "Well, let’s just say I have an altruistic interest in ensuring Ms. Sara returns to complete human functionality."

I narrowed my eyes. "Tell it like it is, ol’ Bear, enough with the platitudes."

He shook his head. "No, no strings attached. I have transportation arranged for both of you to accompany me to Yellow Rose and to meet with Dr Frederick Zarasthrustra."

“As in Also Sprach?

“As in the pioneering founder of Sinai’s Benign Genomic Re-transition team."

I nodded. "And you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart."

He nodded, smiling.

“No strings attached."

“Not a one."

I waited a few moments, glancing at Sara.

“There’s always a catch," Sara said. Thersh alwaysh a cash

I smiled at Benjamin.

“Okay, well…” he cleared his throat. "Truth be told, while Sara is in the hospital, I have a couple of things you and I could work on together."

“Ah ha," I said.

He smiled. "Nothing too difficult, but I think you might have an interest."

“And what would that be?" Sara said.

He shrugged. "Well…I have certain interests in specialized artificial duality due to bio induction."

I thought about that for a moment. "Bio induction? As in a human being pulled into…”

He watched me work it out.

“She’s alive, isn’t she."

He nodded. "I’ve gathered certain evidence."

“Holy shit," I said.

“Do you know what a holon is, Mr. Paradise?”

I shook my head, still reeling from shock.

“The notion of a holon is that the mind is at once a whole and a part. A superposition of forces manifests, at each bodily holon, as the outcome of an entire hierarchy of forces: ontogenetic, habitual, linguistic prescriptive, and social science. It operates in a continuum of independent feedback and feed-forward streams of a body extended to its larger environment."

“Yeah, that’s what I thought," I said. "But didn't want to sound too sciencey."

“What if this holon existed in an artificial intelligence continuum with a prismatic brain?”

“I have no idea."

He nodded." Well, put it this way. I think there is a ghost in the machine."

I nodded. "Syn."

“Yes."

“And you think we can stop her? Or kill her?”

“We have to, John."

“Why?”

“Think about the Syn, the person. She was a trained assassin, capable of any venal act of retribution, without any what might be called <I>human</I> sense of right or wrong. She was digitized and uploaded without a capsule into the router at the CREAM compound which was directly connected to one of the most complex prismatic genomic server arrays in existence. Which was in turn attached to every other network through its internetworking portal."

I nodded, swallowing.

“She’s been in there a year. Learning, experimenting, observing."

“And you think she’s getting ready to act," I said.

He nodded. "And whom do you think her first objective might be?”

I pointed at myself.

He nodded again.

“So, while Sara is being treated by Dr. Zarathrustra, you and I will be flushing Syn out into the open in order to destroy her?”

He nodded. "Yes."

“With me as bait."

He shrugged. "If you want to see it that way, then yes. I see it more as a partnership with both of us having an interest in success."

“Mine is obvious…what’s yours?”

“Well, I would enjoy the idea of humanity continuing on its merry and fastidious way."

“Ahhh," I said. "You’re a softy, then."

“I just see the entire picture, John. I think she will eventually find a way to exit humanity from existence completely. Think of it: We are completely reliant on Router technology now with prismatic computing. Think of that system undergoing a hostile takeover by Syn and other Holon AI’s under her influence and control."

I shuddered.

“In order to pull this off, John, you both will need to be disguised. Not just a physical disguise, but a matrix masque as well. I’ve enlisted the aid of several Bureau chiefs in this investigation, and they all agree. Syn knows your physical and digital footprints and we can’t have her acting prematurely against us until we are ready for her."

“Right," I said." And whom would we be disguised as?”

“We’d need to talk about that."

I nodded, looking at Sara.

“Well?" I said.

She stared into my eyes, a little drool slipping out of the corner of her mouth. "I’m not getting any better." I no geshing any besher.

I took her hands in mine. "It might be dangerous for the both of us," I said.

She smiled then, for the first time in over a year. "When is it not?”