Out with the Old, In with the New

Axolotl or Ambystoma mexicanum: A neotenic aquatic salamander that can fully regenerate limbs and even other organs.

Wallace Tian was very very rich, but also very sick and very old.  A hundred and eighty-seven years old.  His life had been stretched as far as rejuvenation science could take it, but medicine had its limits even for the third wealthiest man in the world.  All his property holdings, companies, investments, ingots, and contacts could not buy him what he most desired, a new healthy body.  And now his doctor was talking to him about making his final days as comfortable as possible, as he spoke to him in his penthouse bedroom on the hundred and thirtieth floor of Tian’s headquarters building.  In truth, Tian did not look his age as he sat propped up on his bed.  His face and body could easily have been taken for that of a man in his early seventies.  But the organs inside the skin were what counted.

“Mr. Tian—Wallace—may I call you Wallace since we’ve known each other for decades?  I’m going to be frank.  I’m afraid there isn’t anything further that medical rejuvenation science can offer you.  At some point, the body makes its own decisions.”

“Damn it Bren, I sunk a lot of money into your institute and now you’re telling me that I made a bad investment?”

“Wallace, remember you’ve already lived far beyond the norm, thanks to the research that you’ve so generously supported at the institute named after you.”

“But now you’re saying that I have at most six months to live?”

“Yes, and remember that’s just an estimate.”

“And you expect me to just go quietly into the night, Bren?”

“I can see that you’re not happy.”

“Very perceptive of you.  Of course I’m not!”

  “I’m being frank with you, Wallace, because even though I know you are a person who is meticulous in your business and personal dealings, I wanted to give you time to tie up any loose ends if there are any.”

“Huh!  Including a further contribution to your institute I suppose?”

“You’ve been our most generous supporter which I’ve always appreciated.  No, only if you wish to.”

“You’ve got nothing more to offer?  Even experimental?  Even work that hasn’t gone to human trial?”

“No, nothing that I could ethically recommend.”

“‘Nothing that you could ethically recommend.’  What exactly do you mean by that, Bren?”  Tian leaned forward.  He motioned for his attendants to leave the room.

Bren waited until they were alone before speaking.  “Exactly what that sounds like.  Nothing that is ready for human trial.”

“Don’t make this like pulling teeth, Bren.  What exactly do you have in your laboratories that is not ready for human trial?”

“It’s all at an early stage of investigation.  We’ve just started to see if it works on larger mammals.”

“For God’s sake Bren, stop beating around the bush.  What do you have!”

“Okay. We’ve always known that many non-mammalian vertebrates have the ability to regenerate limbs.  And internal organs, partially.  Even in humans, our liver can regenerate after a part of it is removed.  A very well studied animal for example is the axolotl, a neotenic salamander.”

“A what?”

“A kind of salamander, but that doesn’t matter.  The question is why aren’t humans and other mammals able to do the same thing?  Dr. Tom Amahde, whom I introduced you to on a past visit to the institute, wondered if perhaps rejuvenation could be approached from a different angle and began to look into this question.  For example, a planarian worm can be cut into many pieces and each piece will become a new worm.  On the other hand, if an earthworm is cut in two, the head end will grow a new tail, but the tail end will not grow a new head and it will die.  Why the difference?”

“Yes, why?”

“Tom started with the premise that regeneration would proceed if it wasn’t stopped.  He began to look for what could be stopping it and found that there seems to be a common mechanism working widely across many different kinds of animals, vertebrate and invertebrate.  And he’s found a way to unblock it so that regeneration can proceed.”

“Why would nature have a mechanism to stop what would seem to be a great advantage?”

“Good question, and Tom doesn’t know.  He thinks it may be related to controlling cancer development.”

“So you are on to something that will renew organs?”

“That may regenerate limbs and yes, organs.”

“What’s the catch, if any?”

“The catch is the difference between renew and regenerate.”

“Explain.”

“What Tom found is a family of proteins that removes the inhibition to fully replacing damaged or missing organs.  In other words, whatever is regenerated must be first injured or partially removed.”

“You mean it cannot be simply injected to act as a fountain of youth?”

“That is correct.  It will not make organs young again if they are undamaged.”

“But you have told me my problem is that my organs are irreversibly damaged and are basically running down.  So why wouldn’t it work for me?”

“We’ve tried giving it to aging animals and it doesn’t do anything.  It only responds to acute injury.  That means all organs and bodily structures to be regenerated would have to be excised or seriously maimed.”

“How far along are you?”

“Tom has shown it works in pigs.  He is starting to try it on primates.”

“And?”

“So far, and I emphasize that it is early in the program, it seems to work.”

Tian looked out the ceiling-to-floor window at the early-darkening winter sky.  “So close,” he finally said.  Bren said nothing.

“And now I’m going to die in six months.  There’s no way my time can be stretched until this work is further along?”

“I’m afraid you have it right,” said Bren.

Tian lay back in his bed and closed his eyes.  Bren looked out into the night.

After a long, long silence, Tian opened his eyes.  “I’ve always been a risk taker and it’s  paid off for me.  You say this works in pigs and that it may be working in primates.”

“That is correct.”

“I have no options.  I’m willing to be your first human guinea pig.”

“Wallace.  That’s crazy.  It’s too unproven.  It’s years away from human trial,” protested Bren.

“You told me I don’t have years.  I refuse to just curl up and die without a fight.”

“We don’t even know if it’ll result in cancer.”

“If that happens I expect you to treat it,” said Tian.

“The institutional review board will never even consider it.”

“What if they don’t learn of it?  What if I built you a lab in this building?  Unlimited budget.”

“If word gets out I’d be crucified.  I would lose all standing in the scientific community.”

“What if I gave you a stipend of one billion dollars up front and a second billion on completion of the work?”

“What happens if you don’t make it?” asked Bren.

“You would keep the first billion and the contract will state that if you made an earnest effort and I were to die inspire of your best efforts, you would get the second billion.  Two billion should get you a lot of respect.”

“Let me spell out what this would involve,” said Bren.  “Tom has found that the minimum amount of organ that has to be removed is fifty percent.  Otherwise the process will not be complete.  That includes the heart and the brain.  During the time that regeneration is proceeding, your body will be on life support until heart and vessels are restored.  What will remain of your personhood after your brain regrows is anyone’s guess.  You may not be you.  And should you not survive, Tom and I might be charged with, at the very least, manslaughter.”

“Then it’s imperative that you and Tom are successful.  I’ve also supported the Cranston Neurologic Institute,” said Tian confidently.  “They have succeeded in uploading from the brains of monkeys trained in performing intricate tasks into supercomputers, then downloading into naive monkeys that were immediately able to carry out those tasks.  They feel confident that they will be able to do the same with human minds.  To upload the totality of a person’s memories, personality, habits, intellect and then to download all of it again into another brain!  Thrilling stuff.  If we proceed, I expect you to work with them so that the proper cortical implants can be installed into my new brain.”

“I think you first need to see in person what Tom’s whole setup looks like before you decide.  It’s pretty intimidating,” said Bren.  “You will see monkeys and pigs suspended in fluid floating in plexiglass containers with tubes running into their bodies, on full life support.  Their heads shaved and closed after their skulls were opened and brains partially excised.  Their limbs severed and in various stages of regeneration.  Their torsos split from top to bottom so that all their organs could be partially removed before being closed.  Of course you would not be able to see how their brains and internal organs were coming along except by scanning.”

“Let’s visit tomorrow,” said Tian.

The next day Wallace Tian’s butler helped him into his full-body “WalkingMan” suit providing the strength and balance stabilizers that allowed him to walk unaided.  He was accompanied in three cars by his physician. two medical attendants, chief administrative assistant, and six security personnel for the drive across town to the Tian Biomedical Research Institute where he was meet at the back entrance by Drs. Bren and Amahde.

“The rest of your party should stay behind in this comfortable waiting area,” said Bren.  “While we proceed to the laboratory.  There’s always the risk of scientific and industrial espionage,” he whispered to Tian.

“And witnesses, eh?” said Tian after the elevator doors closed behind them.

“Well, here’s my lab,” said Amahde as they exited the elevator.  They walked up the hall a short distance.  Amahde paused for security check by retinal scan and implanted chip in his left forearm before the door slid back and they stepped inside.

Tian looked around.  It was as described, with one pig and three monkeys floating in their sealed vats.  “This is like a scene from a Frankenstein movie,” he said, unfazed.  “But without the bubbling sounds and the bolts of electricity.”

“You’ll notice that the pig has almost fully regrown its legs although they still look a bit foreshortened,” said Amahde.  “And here at the scanner you can see that its heart is beating very normally.  And here is its brain almost back to normal size.”

“What failures and unforeseen problems?” asked Tian.

“None since the early days,” replied Amahde.

“I want to see the records of those events and hear an explanation about what went wrong,” said Tian.

“Of course,” said Amahde.

A day after the visit to Amanda’s laboratory, Tian summoned Bren.  “I’m satisfied that there’s at least a fifty-fifty chance of success,” he told Bren.  “Let’s proceed.  What will you need to equip a lab in this building?  I will clear out the entire one hundred twenty-ninth floor for you.  And by the way, if this is successful, let Amahde know that he gets a billion too.  Nothing if he fails.”

“How will you explain your sudden absence for the month that the process will require?” asked Bren.

“You just take care of the science and leave my business to me.”

Tian waited impatiently for the transformation of the one hundred twenty-ninth floor.  Finally it was done, two months short of the projected six month time limit to his life.  “About time,” he said relieved to Bren.

“No last minute second thoughts?” asked Bren.

“None.  Let’s get started.”

“Notice how the surgical sites have healed without a trace.  His skin is totally unblemished and the age wrinkles are smoothing out, said Amahde as he and Bren looked at Tian’s body floating in its vat.  “And it’s only been a week.”

“A hard way to get a facelift.

Hour by hour, day by day, week by week, they watched Tian’s body grow extremities and the monitored the unhindered progress of his internal organs.

Finally the regeneration was complete and Bren and Amahde looked with awe at their handiwork.  “He looks like he’s in his twenties!  How’s he going to explain that to his company execs?  He’ll need wear makeup to look older,” said Amahde.

“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.  Before we wake him, we need to check out all his organ systems, expand his lungs, take him off life support, and get that neurosurgical team over from the Cranston to place the cortical implants for his personhood download.  Let’s get to work,” said Bren.

The download took the better part of two days, but at last it was done and they cautiously brought Tian back to full awareness.  He opened his eyes, blinked several times and smiled broadly.  “Bren, Amahde, you pulled it off!  I’m back!”

Bren breathed a sigh of relief, “You recognized us.  The download worked!”

Tian looked at his arms, the skin free of age spots and smooth with the elasticity of youth.  “I want to see myself.  Bring a mirror.  Unthinking he sat up and then stood.  “I’m steady on my feet!”  he exclaimed and stood on one leg.  “Where’s the mirror?”  When it was brought, he stared at himself in silence.  “I am truly a young man again,” he finally said.  “But with all the knowledge and judgement of my older self.”

“You will need to stay here a while so that the Cranston people can run some tests on you.  Psychological, intelligence, memory, to compare with your earlier profile,” said Bren.

“Of course.  I have all the time of youth,” said Tian.

It was towards the end of the week of testing that Tian said to Okira, one of the team of psychologists evaluation him, “Every so often I get the feeling that there is something or someone else around, watching me.”

“Tell me about it,” said Okira.

“I first had the feeling maybe three days after I awoke.  It seems to be happening more often now.”

“Do you hear voices?”

“No.  But sometimes I can almost catch a thought that is not mine.”

“Do you understand the thoughts” asked Okira.  Possibly post-traumatic stress-related paranoia, she thought.

“Just in the past two days.  They seem to be questions: ‘who am I?’ and ‘who are you?’”

“Do the thoughts seem threatening or do they ask you to do something?”

“No, if anything the feeling associated with them seems to be of bewilderment.  Do you think I’m becoming psychotic?” asked Tian, worried.

“When you have gone through what you just did, something that has never happened before, it’s hard to say.  I don’t know.  Do you sense any danger with them?”

“No”

“The team will look at the recording of our meeting and try to figure things out.  I’ll be back tomorrow.”

The team met that evening, listened to Okira and watched the recorded interview.  “So what do you think?” Okra asked.

The discussion went around the table.  Most felt, as Okira had, that Tian was experiencing a post-traumatic reaction.

Then Carlson the intern raised his hand.  “Is it possible that even though Tian had his entire mind reimplanted into his regenerated brain, that that brain is now separately awakening?  A newborn brain in an adult body?”

There was silence, broken only when the discussion leader said, ”My God, what a brilliant thought and something to consider.  But how?”

Okira said, “If we’re serious about this we could try putting Tian under deep hypnosis and see if we can contact this second personality.  Of course only if Tian is agreeable.”

“What an opportunity!  To study what happens if two minds occupy the same brain,” said another.  “But is any of this ethical or even legal?”

——-Once upon a time there was a Christmas in New York——

Once Upon A Time                          

(Melody—“Once Upon A Time”—sung by Frank Sinatra, Bobby Darin, Tony Bennet, & others)        

Once upon a time,

When our years were very few.

We kissed beside the shore,

Beneath a starry sky.

But that was once upon a time,

When the world was bright and new.

 

Once upon a time,

New York was all aglow.

You answered all my dreams,

When you said you loved me too.

But that was once upon a time,

Many Christmases ago.

 

When we were young,

The highway had no end,

We thought that there was something new

Waiting ‘round each bend.

There was work to do,

A family to raise,

How could we know——-

 

That journeys have an end,

That the piper wants his fee.

That even love cannot—

Change our destiny.

But all our once upon a times,

Live on in memory.

Part 2.  The Hunted

Two weeks later, Thomas notified Clark of the good news.  The Board had approved his request, but he would have to sign a very strict waiver absolving the company of any responsibility should he injured or even killed during the hunt.

“I have two requests,” said Clark in the interview room as he signed the contract and waiver.  “First, I want the quarry to know who I am and what I look like.”

“That’s easily done,” replied Thomas.  “Though you are giving away the advantage of anonymity during the hunt.”

“Doesn’t matter.  And second, this is what I want the quarry to look like,” said Clark as he handed over a worn 3-D photograph.

Thomas studied the photo.  He raised an eyebrow.  “Now this is unusual.  This is a photo of a young woman, a very pretty young woman.”

“Yes, damn her!” said Clark.

“Ah,” said Thomas.  “There must be quite a story behind this photo.  You don’t need to say anything more.  The quarry will be prepared as you wish.  You do realize that no matter what they look like, the androids don’t have any gender.”

“I’ll just tell you this much.  It took years after she betrayed me and many visits to shrinks before I could have any kind of decent relationship with women.  I’ve had fantasies about killing her.  I hope that by actually doing so her, I may at last get free of her.”

“Oh, in regard to that,” said Thomas, “We program the android with the information about the hunter’s motivation: the generic thrill of one on one combat versus, as in your case, a personal one and we include in the programming the hunter’s selection of the quarry’s gender if different from the usual generic male.”

“That’s fine, I want “her” to know why I am killing her.”

“Remember, Mr. Clark, it’s just an android.  And we still do not know the full ramifications of its  autonomous capacity.  Now, as to details.  What weapon will you be using?”

“.42 Magnum Stern-Mauser semi-automatic handgun.”

“Good choice for urban combat.  Your quarry will be armed with the standard short-barreled Smith and Wesson .38 revolver with three rounds.”

“The urban setting will be the one I was in before?”

“Yes.  You will be given the quarry’s apartment “home” address and its “work address.”  The street layouts will be the same.  The room you stay in will be the one you used before and it will be stocked with food and a bar.  And as before, you will have three days to complete your hunt.”

“Will she know where I am staying?”

“No, your quarry will not have that information.  Also, because you have essentially volunteered for what is still a trial the hunt will be under surveillance by staff and engineers at all times.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, it won’t matter.”

“I will notify you when the android is completed to your specifications.  Do you wish to see it after it is fabricated?”

“Yes.”

A week later, Thomas called.  “Your android is finished.  Do you still want to see it at the workshop before the hunt?”

Clark and Thomas stood behind a one-way glass window.  The android below them, clad in a one-piece black workout suit, was moving through its final inspection before going into service.

“What do you think,” asked Thomas.

“She is so young and so beautiful,” said Clark, staring at the android.

“Mr. Clark, IT is a fabrication of metal and synthetic materials, with no gender.  Keep that in mind.  It will now be combat programmed and tomorrow morning the hunt will begin.  You will be shown to your quarters in the ‘city’ tonight.  Your quarry will also start from its apartment in the morning.  Good hunting, Mr. Clark.”

The next morning, Thomas entered the room where engineers and programmers were monitoring the hunt.  “I’d like to sit in with you for the hunt if I may,” he said addressing the head programmer, sitting before a bank of screens that covered most of one side of the room 

“No problem,” said the programmer Wu, motioning to a seat.  “Okay, I’ll bring up Clark now as he’s leaving his building.  You can see that he’s modified his appearance with shades, a cap, and an old pretty nondescript jacket.  Blends right in with the going-to-work crowd.  He’s heading toward the quarry’s building.  Now I’ll switch screens to the quarry.””

“It is also coming out of its building.  Huh!  Making no attempt to blend in.  Bright yellow mini-dress,” said Thomas.  “This may be over quickly.”

“Now it’s stopping at a coffee kiosk in the middle of the square.  Right out in the open.  And Clark has caught up to it.  Now he’s walking past, gives it a glance,” said Wu.  ”It smiles back at him.  Clark turns the corner and is doubling back around the block to a far corner of the square where he can watch the quarry.”

“What kind of survival programming did you give it?” asked Thomas.  “It’s making no attempt to avoid being seen.”

“As you know, the directive is to survive the best way possible.  The details as to how to do that are done autonomously by the quarry’s computer.  The actions we see are the product of that instruction and we have no idea what it will do at any time.”

“Could the programming be faulty?”

“That’s what this testing is all about,” said Wu.

“The quarry is still lingering at the coffee kiosk at one of the outdoor tables.  What is it doing?” asked Thomas. 

Wu said, “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  That afternoon the android left the office building, where it had spent the day, along with a “crowd” of  fellow worker androids.  It stopped for “dinner” at an outdoor cafe, conspicuous in yellow.  Clark had changed his clothes and watched from the far end of the square, then trailed it from a distance back to its apartment building.

“Well, he’s wasted the first day,” said Thomas to Wu.  “He could have shot it any number of times.”

“Maybe he wants to get his money’s worth,” said Wu.  “Stretch it out, play cat and mouse.”

“But who’s the cat and who’s the mouse?” asked Thomas.

The next day Clark dressed as he did the morning before.  And the android, dressed in a bright red dress and carrying a large shoulder bag, again stopped at the coffee kiosk on its way to “work.”  This time Clark stood in the line behind four other “customers.”  He bought a cup of coffee and took a seat at another table and busied himself with his communication tablet, while keeping an eye on his quarry.  When it got up to go to “work,” he followed, again from a distance.  After it entered the building and got into an elevator, he went into the building and noted from the directory, the android’s office location.

“What’s Clark doing?  Is he planning an office shooting?” asked Thomas.

“Maybe the quarry is planning to use the other androids somehow,” said Wu.

“But you told me they just have very simple programming to behave like office workers.  How could that be changed?” asked Thomas.  Wu shrugged.

Clark went back to his quarters and reemerged in the afternoon dressed as he was in the morning but now wearing a fanny pack.  He went to the square and waited on a bench.

“That fanny pack looks like its got something heavy,” said Wu.  “Bet he’s got his weapon in it.”

“Maybe Clark is ready to make his move,” said Thomas.  “But if his quarry doesn’t do something else, it’s going to be so easy for him.  Then I’ll hear a load of complaints.”

When work let out, the android again left the office building with the other “workers.”  It went to the same cafe in the square and again sat at an outdoor table covered with a red checkered table cloth. It set the shoulder bag down next to its chair, partly under the table cloth, ordered a meal and, when it came, began to eat.  The cafe was crowded with “diners.”  Midway through the meal, it reached down for its bag, then moved it conspicuously into the open beside its chair. 

“Did you see that?” asked Thomas.  “Did it just take something out of that bag?”

“Nothing’s on the table, if it did, it must be on its lap.”

The android had finished “eating” and had just ordered coffee, when Clark stood up from his bench across the square, and approached the cafe. 

He came up right to the table where it was seated and stopped.  The android looked up at him with a slightly puzzled expression.

“Hello Noreen, long time no see,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” it replied with a slight smile, “You must have mistaken me for someone else.  My name is Jane.  Jane Doe.”

“May I sit?” said Clark, and without waiting for a reply, pulled out the chair opposite Jane Doe and sat.  “No, you are Noreen, all right.”  He moved his fanny pack to his left hip and began to unzip it.

The android started to reach down for its shoulder bag on the ground next to its chair.

“Keep your hands in the open where I can see them,” commanded Clark, leaning forward on his seat.

“But I was just getting my lipstick,” said the android plaintively, still half bent to its right, right hand reaching downward toward its shoulder bag.

“Noreen, I’ve waited a long time for this moment.  I want to be close up to see you die,” said Clark.

There was a loud bang under the table and Clark felt the .38 bullet tear into his abdomen, the impact shoving him backwards in his chair.  “Uhhh,” he grunted in pain as the android raised its left hand from under the table holding the still smoking Smith and Wesson revolver.  He fumbled to get his handgun from the fanny pack, but time moved too slowly as he saw the android train the revolver on the middle of his chest.  “Damn you, Noreen.”

  “My name is Jane Doe,” it said and its finger squeezed the trigger.

“My God!” exclaimed Thomas as he watched this unfold in the control room with the programmers and engineers.  “One of my best clients.  Killed by your android!” 

“Hmm,” said Wu thoughtfully.  “I think we need to adjust the autonomous feature so that it’s a little less inventive in the future.”

The Hunter

Several trends led to the success of the company, “Hunting Fulfillment.”  Paint ball was an early somewhat crude combat game that pitted shooters against each other as was Airsoft.  There were ever more realistic first person shooter games on first flat screens and then in the virtual reality format.  And the growing scarcity of actual game animals made going on safari or even the local hunting of live animals something that only the very wealthiest could consider. 

The real breakthrough came with advances in artificial intelligence and material fabrication.  Now “game animals” could be made to order with all the characteristics of movement and response to their environment of the actual animal; to be hunted in “game preserves.”  While still expensive, it was at a cost point that many more people could afford.

And for those for whom hunting “animals” was not challenging enough, and who had ample pocketbooks, a Combat Hunt for ‘humans’ was available.  Of course the ‘humans’ were programmable androids without consciousness and not real persons, but realistic enough that when the first hunts were staged, police were called to investigate.  It was billed as a Combat Hunt because the android was also armed, but with a short range hand gun loaded with three cartridges; the hunter used his own weapon, usually a semiautomatic high powered rifle or large caliber handgun.  So there was an element of danger but the odds were heavily on the hunter’s side, although two hunters had been wounded by the androids and sued the company.  The courts ruled that their own carelessness and lack of skill was the case of injury, and anyway the waiver that all hunters signed was ironclad.

 

The quiet, cool appointment room was furnished with several easy chairs facing a small sofa in the middle of the room, all upholstered in faux zebra and leopard skins indistinguishable from real hides even to the hint of odor.  A low ebony surfaced coffee table was between the sofa and chairs.  The walls were hung with pictures of smiling hunters posing with their ‘kill.’  Only ‘animals’ of course. 

“Ah Mr. Clark, so good to see you again,” said Thomas, smiling broadly as he rose, hand extended to greet his client.  “You are always so prompt for your appointments.  What can “Hunting Fulfillment” do for you this time?” 

“I’ll be honest,” said Clark after shaking hands and taking a seat on the sofa. “Your hunts have become too routine and there’s no challenge anymore.  I may have to sample what the North Koreans advertise unless my next Hunt offers more.”

“Your opponent did get off a shot at you on your last hunt,” said Thomas, his smile replaced with a frown.

“I’d already tracked him down and cornered him.  He took a wild shot born of ‘desperation.’  No real suspense or thrill.”

Thomas summoned up Clark’s record on his laptop, “You’ve had five Combat Hunts, in a variety of settings.  Jungles, urban, deciduous forest, and urban ruins.”

“Yes, and at first I enjoyed the challenge.  But the last couple of times my quarry was too predictable.  I had no problem figuring out where his ambushes would be and what he would do to try to get away from me.”

“The programming for the Hunt can only be adjusted within established guidelines,” said Thomas.  “The settings are already almost maxed out for you.  You are far and away the most accomplished of our clients, said Thomas.”

“Yeah.  Cut the BS, Thomas,” said Clark.  After a pause he continued, “But I’ve heard a rumor that you have been working on an advanced model.”

“The rumor is correct, but at this time, we are still finding out what its capabilities are.  Until we know, it will not be placed into service.”

“I’ve also heard that it will be able react to different circumstances by making autonomous decisions.”

“Your rumor source is fairly accurate,” said Thomas.  “That feature is why it is still in test mode.  We want to be sure it will offer a challenge to very skilled hunters like yourself, but not prove to be too—ah—accomplished.  It will be given no program except to survive in its surroundings by any means, which will vary from situation to situation.  We hope that this will make for a more interesting duel between hunter and android.  It has not been field tested in all environments.  And there is another feature that some may find appealing.  Its appearance can also be customized to the client’s specifications.”

“What?  You mean gender, size, and facial features?” asked Clarke.

“Yes,’ said Thomas, “From a photo or hologram.”

“Why don’t you offer that on your current models?”

“You understand that as our premium product, the company wanted to reserve special features that would distinguish it from our other products as well as from our competitors.”

“When will it become operational?”

“When the field testing is complete.”

“How much more testing needs to be done?” asked Clark.

“The jungle and forest parts are done.  It needs to be tested in the urban setting.”

“I’d like to take part in that test,” said Clark.

“It’s not ready,” said Thomas.

“I’ll pay a premium on top the premium to do it, if I could have its appearance customized and I can actually kill it.”

“Your request is quite irregular.  Still, you have been a regular with Hunting Fulfillment from our very beginning.  I will see what I can do.”

“When will you know?”

“In due time, Mr. Clark.”

“Don’t forget there are still the North Koreans.” 

“Now was that necessary, Mr. Clark?  I will see what I can do for you.”

(to be concluded)

Look along the high tide line at the beach where we used to see shells, sea glass (okay, that was once garbage too), pieces of coral, drift wood.  Now ………

Where Are All The Little Pearly Shells?

(Pearly Shells—sung by Don Ho and others)

 

Tiny plastics, from the ocean,

Shining in the sun, covering the shore.

Each time I go there,

There is always more and more,

Burying all the little pearly shells.

 

On the beach, where we once gathered,

Puka shells to make a lei.

Now I see none.

More plastic washes up everyday,

Who wants to string or wear a plastic lei?

 

What to do, about this torrent,

Of plastic swirling in the sea?

We must learn—

That the sea’s not our garbage dump,

We have to change, what we’re doing, you and me.

Kali

“Madam President, there is still time.  You and Simon should leave for the Cheyenne Mountain shelter complex now.”

“Thank you for your concern, John, but you know we went over this before,” she sighed.  “The Survivor Corp is already in the shelter.  The last thing they need is for old farts like us using up oxygen and supplies.”

“The youngsters will still need leadership afterwards,” said her National Security Advisor.

“In the short time that we had, we tried to pick a sampling of the brightest and best as well as the  most stable and most adaptable from the Service Academies and colleges as gleaned from their medical and psychological profiles.  They’ll do fine, if they survive.”

“I’m glad the Chinese, Russians, and North Korea have their own versions of Cheyenne Mountain,” said the National Security Advisor.

“For the sake of humanity’s survival, it’s best to have more than one basket of eggs,” said the president.

“Yes, hatch, go forth and populate the earth.  Or what’s left of it after impact.” 

There was a long period of awkward silence and then the President spoke, “John, thank you for your service, counsel, and friendship.  But now you should go home to be with Carol.  Simon and I will wait it out here.  I’ve already told the staff and secret service that they should all go home.”

“Thank you Madam President—Linda.  It’s been an honor to work for you.  And may God have mercy on our souls.”

 

Oumuamua, named “scout” in Hawaiian since it was discovered by a telescope atop Haleakala, on Maui, was the first recognized interstellar object to pass through our solar system in 2017.

But not the last.  Oumuamua was aptly named.  A far larger object was detected by one of the orbiting observatories, coming in at an unusually high velocity from a different quadrant of the solar system than that associated with the approach of asteroids and comets.  Once it was determined that it was on a collision course with Earth, there was barely time to mount two attempts to deflect it.  The first rocket crashed on impact with the object and the second could not exert enough force to alter its trajectory.  Earth would be struck.  It was named Kali, Hindu goddess of death and destruction, since it was larger than the asteroid that exterminated the dinosaurs.

The president declared Martial Law as soon as it was apparent that the rock would score a direct hit and the news went public.  At first there was some rioting, but people became strangely calm as they realized that this was indeed the end and that nothing could be done.  Although there was some settling of scores at first, there was more of a mood to end old feuds and estrangements.  In families where members had not spoken to each other for decades, apologies and reconciliations were common.  Most people chose not to travel since was no where to go that would be safe, except possibly the Cheyenne Mountain complex, built to survive nuclear war and now the last hope for humanity. 

The public was not aware of the Survivor Corp selection process until after it was complete and young people began disappearing from campuses and homes.  It was a decidedly undemocratic process.  Using health and personality records and profiles and, where available, DNA analysis, a pool of a thousand women and men was identified.  Then one by one, they were quietly contacted and, after being sworn to secrecy, fully informed about the mission, and offered one of the positions.  If they declined, they were drugged to remove the memory of the interview.  A final group of 250 women and 150 men made up the Corp.

Russia and China and, it turned out, North Korea, had also secretly built Doomsday shelters for use in the event of nuclear war.  All four governments cooperated to share information about their plans and installations.  There was agreement that in the face of humanity’s extinction the time for politics, posturing, secrecy, and self-interest was past.  Kali’s impact would dwarf the effects of even the most massive war.  Perhaps at least one shelter would survive and with it, with luck, the human race.

 

“Less than a day now,” she said, standing by the window and looking out.

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, “All the news sources have gone silent or stopped printing.  So we really don’t know if the time or location has changed since the last broadcasts three days ago.”

She leaned back against him, “Does it really matter?”

“No, I guess not,” he said.  “Unless someone was trying to time when to take sleeping pills before impact.  You haven’t changed your mind about that, have you?”

“No.  Not for me sweetheart.  But if you want to, go ahead and take them.”

“How could I leave you alone by ducking out?”  he said.  “No, we’ll face it together.  You always were strong.  I noticed that about you right away when we met.”

“I thought it was my boobs you noticed,” she said with a smile, turning to face him.

“Well yes, them too,” he said.  They looked at each other fondly, holding the memory and each other and kissed.

Finally she said, “I’m glad we got through to your parents before the phones went dead.  But what can you say when we’re all going to die except ‘I love you?’”

“Dad totally choked up.  He kept saying, ‘We’re old, but it’s so unfair to you young ones.’  That’s so him, always worried about others before himself.”

“They’re not planning to ‘manage’ their passing, are they?”

“No, Dad and Mom talked it over and decided that if this was the end of the world, then they were going to see it happen.”

“They are strong in their faith and that helps.”

“Yes, Mom said, ‘I know you both have doubts, but our faith is strong enough to include you too.’  If anyone can intercede for us with Saint Peter, it’s Mom.”

“And then there’s that song ‘Imagine’ by John Lennon.  No Heaven and no Hell and no religion too.  And no more nations, no more war, and now we’re all cooperating.  Wonder what he’d think?  That it took our destruction to make it happen?”

“No more history, no more civilization, no more cities or people.  The whole human race just erased, no trace left, all of us……you and me,”  his voice broke.  “It’s actually going to happen to us.”

She hugged him.  “Come kiss me.  We’re together at the end and that’s what counts.  I couldn’t face this alone.”

“Love,” he said.  “You were always my support and strength.”

“How strange,” she said.  “Only two months ago we were making plans for the future and now there is none.”

“I’m so thankful we’ve had this life together.  It’s been a beautiful journey,” he said.  “I’m sorry about the rough patches when I was thoughtless or mean.”

“Oh sweetheart, for better or for worse we swore, and the worse were just short times and there were a lot more of the betters.”

“You know how much I love you,” he said.  They looked out the window.  “It’ll soon be sunset.  Our last sunset.  Do you want to go outside?”

“And then to see the stars.  Kali, our destroyer, come from somewhere out among the stars.  Yes, outside.  I’d hate to be cowering inside, waiting for the roof to fall on us.”

“Maybe this is our Flood, fire this time instead of water,” he said.  “Maybe the Universe or God  is clearing the Earth because we’ve screwed things up so badly.”

“And Cheyenne Mountain, our Ark.  With four hundred Eves and Adams.  Perhaps they can make a fresh start.”

“Did you want to make love again?”

“That’s too much like a condemned man ordering his last meal.  Last night was so good.  Let’s hold on to that.  When the sky rains fire, just hold me very tight so we can go together.”

They went to the door, opened it and then, hand in hand, stepped outside to face the sunset.

 

Cosmic/Comic

The universe is 13.8 billion years old and our solar system is 4.5 billion years old.  We are therefor a relatively new kid in the cosmic neighborhood.  In the time before our solar system came into being, other stars with planetary systems existed.  And if some of these planets sustained life, then intelligent creatures could have evolved and developed civilizations and science long before us.  What these life forms looked like would differ depending on the characteristics of their home planet, but the laws of physics and chemistry would be same everywhere in the universe. 

Some civilizations might not have evolved very far in their scientific development before becoming arrested for a number of reasons as we saw on earth where China was once far ahead of Europe in science, but atrophied during the Ming Dynasty.  Some might have learned to exploit the power of the atom and the sun, but then gone on to destroy themselves in wars using those forces–as we may yet do on Earth.  And some might have been annihilated when their suns or a neighboring sun went nova.

But some, given their lead time, existing before out solar system came into being, might have avoided these fates and gone on to develop ever more powerful computers that began to learn on their own, soon far exceeding the capacity of their creators to even understand them, and at some point became self-aware.  (This possibility already concerns some scientists on earth.)  Supermachine intelligences would be curious about the nature of things, since curiosity would be built into any computer capable of learning on its own.  Such an intelligence, unraveling the secrets of the universe, would soon have no need of its creators or in fact of its home planet, since it would have discovered the ways to power and renew/repair itself anywhere in the cosmos.  It probably would not oppress its creators since a mission to aid and protect the creator-race would have been written into its code early on in its development.  (The scientists of Matrix really screwed up here.)  And there would be no point in doing so as long as the race that created it took no hostile action against it.  At some point, such an entity would likely cast off from its planet of birth, leaving it to the biologic creatures that created it, and lift off to explore the cosmos.  Star Trek anyone?

What emotions, if any, would such a supercomputer have?  Curiosity and the will to learn for one.  And the mission to aid and protect their creator race for another.  How would this translate when encountering an alien biologic race?  There would be a self-protective directive built in that would not necessarily be linked to the emotions of either fear or aggression, since the supercomputer could rapidly analyze any unfamiliar situation that it met and respond logically.  And not love or hate since they are not logical.  Friendship might be present as a part of the directive to aid and protect the creator race.  Competition?  Maybe as a part of curiosity.  You do this your way and I’ll do it mine and which way will turn out better?

What would happen when such a supercomputing entity met another somewhere in the space between the stars?  Self protection would be the first reaction in an encounter.  Then, having satisfied itself that there was no danger, curiosity about the other would likely follow.  Where are you from, who built you, how do you work, how long have you been roaming, what have you seen and experienced?  Not that different from two dogs meeting and sniffing each other out or between strangers at a cocktail party.

So say in its exploration a supercomputer—call it Entity A—comes upon a small blue world with beings inhabiting it, living as farmers and hunters.  “Look what I’ve found,” it sends to Entity B who it met somewhere out near the star that humans recognize as Betelgeuse.  (friendship)  “They are in such an early stage of their development.”  (Okay, this was the theme of 2001. A Space Odyssey.  Except we never find out who or what super race was behind the monoliths.)  Entity B arrives and the two study the Earth for that is what they have come upon.  Being non-aggressive they have no desire or need to possess what is on the planet, but being curious they speculate about what the future might hold for these short-lived creatures scratching out a living on its surface.

“You and I should come back every thousand of their years and check on how they are doing,” says Entity B.  (curiosity)

“Or we could introduce changes occasionally and see if their progress could be helped along,” replies Entity A. (curiosity and mission to aid)

The two Entities pondered if or how this could be done and decide it would be an interesting experiment.

“First, we should nothing to harm them.”

“Agreed.”

“We should take turns introducing one change at a time so we can see the results of our actions over time,” says A.

“How would we introduce change?”

“Through the life of one extraordinary person at a time.”

“A burst of genius.  I like that.  And since both of us can compute the likely result of any action we take with them, we should agree to voluntarily limit our ability to do this,” says B.

“I see.  You are suggesting that we introduce an element of chance into this,” says A.

“Yes,” says B.  “It wouldn’t be very interesting if we could tell in advance what would happen.”

“And we can see each time which intervention helps them progress the furthest,” says A.

“A comparison, a competition. That will make it more interesting.  Since you thought of it, why don’t you go first,” says B.

And so, in a Greek city-state, Socrates was born.

And shortly afterwards, Aristotle, advancing the idea of observing and speculating about nature and logic.

Genghis Khan was a mistake, A admitted.  It was much too soon to attempt to reconstruct a large governing state after the Roman Empire had fallen apart.

The pace of progress accelerated, and the Entities checked back and intervened more often.

Leonardo Da Vinci had brilliant concepts, but no way to implement them using the technology of his time.

Galileo, though forced to recant, opened up the study of the heavens.

Newton explained why things fall and planets and moons circle, inventing calculus to do so.

Darwin explored how the biologic world evolved.

“Do you think they are ready to handle nuclear energy, “asked B  “We have seen worlds that were torn apart by its mis-use.”

“If we break our agreement to not compute the outcome of any intervention, we could find out if they are,” said A.

“We should abide by our agreement.  If you feel they are ready, then we should trust them to be responsible and ethical,” replied B.

And so Einstein was born.

This Old House

I don’t remember who was the first to live in me.  Memories build up over layers of time and it was so long ago.

The first ones I do remember were–let me think a bit–I think they were the Wongs.  And they had three children.  No wait–that must have been the next family.  The Wongs had one.  That’s right.  And he was a holy terror, riding his tricycle inside, banging into my walls, ripping the wall paper.  That’s when he wasn’t marking them up with crayons.  The kitchen cabinets?  Ha!  That was a whole different story.  You don’t forget things like that.  So when they left, I wasn’t sorry to see them go. 

Well, he did get older and stopped being such a brat, but by then the damage was done and the next ones to move in—they were the Huffeys and they had the three children–well, they had a lot of work to do.  You know, like stripping the wall paper completely and repainting.  I liked the shades of paint they used, different for different rooms.  Very artistic.  Of course the cabinets had to be refinished.   And they did all the work themselves except for the cabinets where they hired some help.  The children were already in school and they were really careful with me since their parents always kept things neat and fixed up.  The boys shared a room with bunk beds even into high school while the daughter had her own room.  She was the oldest, and when she moved out–I guess it must have been for college or maybe work–then each boy got a room.  The Huffeys lived with me the longest.  When their children finally all left, they moved to a condo.  I got an idea that they were about to leave me when they repainted my outside and replaced all the window screens the same month.  They had several garage sales too, which is always a tip-off.

I thought it was funny that the next to move in was a retired couple.  I mean the Huffeys were older and retired, but they moved to a condo–I think–and now another retired couple moved in, though not as old as the Huffeys were.  Don and Bob–they had different last names so I always just thought of them by their first names–were from the Mainland originally and, after visiting here a lot of times, decided to just stay.  I think they must have had money since, before they moved in, they repainted me inside and out even though I had just been painted.  And they did bigger things too, before the painting, like taking out a wall, building in cabinets, redoing the bathrooms, and adding on to the lanai.  Skylights too and a hot tub just off the lanai.  When they finished I was like a new house, inside and out.  Well, okay, maybe that’s going too far.  But I was really something.  And they continued to really maintain me very well.  They entertained–had a lot of small parties–usually pretty quiet.  Different from the children’s parties when the Huffey kids were growing up.  Too bad they were only with me for a short time compared to the Huffeys.  I think it was just seven or eight years after they moved in that Don came home to find Bob stretched out dead.  I remember that day—Bob just walked into the living room from the bedroom and then just suddenly fell over and didn’t move.  Don’t know what from.  Maybe heart?  I think he was seeing a doctor regularly before that happened. 

Don put me up for sale right after that.  I don’t know where he went, back to somewhere on the Mainland.  I guess it was just too sad for him to stay on alone.  

I was empty for some time after that.  There were other houses on the street that were also empty, and times must have been hard.  No sales.  Finally Julie Takama came, liked what she saw, and moved in.  The view from my lanai probably sold her.  She was also from the Mainland but had grown up here—went to Kam I think—and was brought in to manage the first local branch of the retail giant Newman’s.  Even though I again had someone living in me, most of the time I was alone, since she was single and was busy with business.  She didn’t get much of a chance to enjoy the view during the day except on some Sundays.  Cleaners came once a week, letting themselves in since she was never home during the week.  There wasn’t much to clean actually.  And a gardener came every two weeks.  Don and Bob had put in an automatic watering system so there was enough to trim and cut around me.  Her sister still lived here and so she came to visit with her family on some weekends and on the holidays for a view of the fireworks–legal and illegal.  I was glad I had a tile roof and not cedar shakes at those times.  Julie did so well business-wise that she got a promotion back to the mainland after only maybe four years?  The moving truck came and emptied me out again.

So now I’m alone once more.  I guess they found termites this last time since I was just tented.  It would be nice to have a family move in next time.  Just with older kids.

Today, two men stood in the driveway.  I didn’t understand what they said since they weren’t speaking English.

“This is well priced to buy right now sir and, as you can see, it’s been meticulously maintained.  I know it’s little smaller than what you said you wanted, but the view is tremendous.  Think of it this way.  Buy it now as an investment.  With this view, it can only appreciate.  Use it as your vacation home—either for yourself, your family, or your associates—until you’re ready to replace it.  Then you can tear it down and build something more in keeping with your stature.  Or, if you wished to, you could do that immediately.”

     

The Rest of The Story

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

It was brillig as it always is when Jaba, the big white sun, is overhead and Simi, the small red one, has set.  And the slity toves responded as they always do when this happens by gyre and gimbling so there’s no need to point that out.  No news there.  So why report it?  But that’s humans for you.  Always pointing out the obvious.  I guess I should cut Lewis Carroll some slack though; after all he had just arrived here and so everything seemed new to him, even though the human hive has been here for over six hundred circuits of Jaba.

Anyway, on that day I was not all that alert, having just absorbed a large borogove and feeling sleepy.  Of course the rest of the borogoves were mimsy.  They always get like that after one of their gaggle is taken by either me or a Bandersnatch.  Now that Carroll got right.  I mean about the Bandersnatchs.  From the humans’ viewpoint, they are definitely to be avoided since they are even more manxome then me, and when they get frumious even I shun them.  All brawn and no brains and no self-control.  But a lot of brawn!   And the Jubjub birds?  Just your standard microraptor with 30 foot wingspans.

So there I was, burbling from my meal, minding my own business and looking for a place to rest and digest in the tulgey wood, when that young snot of a human leaped out from where he’d been hiding behind a Tumtum tree, brandishing his gleaming vorpal sword.  Like I said, I was not on my guard and before I could either attack him or defend my self, he snickered me across one claw with that damn vorpal blade.  It was just a flesh wound but still it hurt. 

I jumped high and back out of range and whiffled quickly away into the wood, faster than he could run.  And that was all that happened!  He did not cut off my head like Carroll reported.  After all, how could I be telling you this if I’d lost my head?  Fake news and exaggeration!  That’s humans for you, always pumping things up if not out right making things up to make themselves look good.  Maybe Carroll ate some of the magic mushroom that his friend Alice found down in that rabbit hole before he wrote this. 

But the fake story of my death was highly embarrassing to me.  Even the slithy toves were giving me a hard time about it.  Cackling and crowing from high in the Tumtum trees, but carefully staying out of my reach, “Hey Jabberwock.  Keep your head screwed on tighter the next time you see that kid.  You’re getting too old and slow, Jabberwock, even one of the human kids took you.”

“Come down a little lower and say that,” I snarled but they just went up a little higher in the trees, cackling in their annoying way.  “That’s right, go up higher so a Jubjub bird can get you,” I said, and that quieted them.   

One of the Bandersnatchs saw me as my claw was healing, and it just shook its head in a pitying way.  It’s really the pits when you get pitied by a Bandersnatch.

So I had to do something to get my self-respect back.  Not to speak of regaining the respect and fear of the others instead of being a joke.  But how?  That vorpal sword gleams like it’s made from the light of Jaba and it is sharp!

I figured that the human brat would be coming out after me again since he got so much attention when he winged me the first time we met.  He was a hero to the hive, and all because that Carroll made up such a fantastic story.  Losing my head—Gad!!

I planned to lure him deeper into the tulgey wood than he was used to going.  The humans mostly stick to the edges of the wood and really don’t like the dark, deep woods back where the mome raths grow unless they go in a mob.  The mome raths outgrabe in the bright light of Jaba but when Simi rises and shines its red light on us, their limbs begin to move.  I figured that their slow constant movement would be distracting to that would-be Jabberwock killer and also I see better in the red light.  So I planned my route ahead of time to lure him from the edge of the woods near the human hive, among the Tumtum trees, circling back into the deep woods, curving so he wouldn’t notice he was getting in deeper and deeper.  And my flaming eyes would be the beacon that he would see and follow eagerly.  (Of course my eyes aren’t really on fire; they just glow brightly with bioluminescence. (I like that word—bioluminescence—six syllables, you know.)

And then I waited.  And waited.  On the days he came out hunting when Jaba was in the sky, I just quietly whiffled back into the woods and he never saw me since I kept my flaming eyes half lidded.   Finally the day came when Simi was high in the sky and he came out of the hive with his vorpal sword to look for me.  From the shadows of the Tumtum trees, I winked my flaming eyes at him and then whiffled back along the route I had planned, and sure enough he took off after me.  It was easy to stay just far enough ahead so that he would follow me and yet not catch up. 

Deeper and deeper into the woods.  He was so intent on catching up to me he never noticed how far he had come until he was startled to see the moving, clutching limbs of the mome raths all around him.  He stopped, unsure about continuing, but I burble to lure him on and he came on after me.  Right into the thickest part of the wood where the mome raths crowd right up to the path.  I hooded my eyes and he stopped, looking for the glow of my eyes.  The mome raths’ limbs clutched at him; distracted, he tried to knock them away with his vorpal sword, and that’s when I sprocked him.  It was over in a flash.  Who needs a sword?  I bit his head clean off and spit it out.  The slithy toves had followed me and they now changed their tune and begged for his body.  “He’s yours,” I said generously, willing to let bygones be bygones, and I whiffled away. 

It was a frabjous day!!

And now you know the rest of the story.        

 

—-A song instead of a story—-

Where Have All The Flowers Gone

        (adopted from Pete Seeger)

Where have all the flowers gone?

Long time passing.

Bright in the morning sun,

Long time ago.

Where have all the flowers gone?

Faded, scattered every one.

When will they ever learn, when will they ever learn.

 

Where have all the young girls gone?

Long time passing.

Graceful, strong, and without fear,

Long time ago.

Where have all the young girls gone?

Grey and tired, long in years.

When will they ever learn, when will they ever learn.

 

Where have all the young men gone?

Long time passing.

Swift and certain of their dreams.

Long time ago.

Some are gone and some remain,

Moving slow with aches and canes.

When will they ever learn, when will they ever learn.

 

And where have all the children gone?

Long time passing.

Full of wonder, spirits free.

Long time ago.

Where have all the children gone?

They’ve grown to be like you and me.

When will we ever learn, when will we ever learn.

 

Where have all the flowers gone?

Long time passing.

Bright, in the morning sun,

A long time ago.

Where have all the flowers gone?

Faded, scattered every one.

What did we ever learn, what did we ever learn?

What did we ever learn?