"Come on. You can wake up, now.? The voice was both soothing and gruff at the same time. And quietly persistent.? There's no need to stay asleep. Open your eyes.? I tried to, but couldn't quite. It was more than a little distressing; opening your eyes isn't the same as operating heavy machinery MAIN CARGO HATCH READY FOR ASSEMBLY ENGAGE PRIMARY LOADING ARM
but it may as well have been. I felt terribly weak and disoriented. I tried harder to wake up, but couldn't quite. A large, heavy, comfortable hand rested on my shoulder. Judging by the size, he must have been over seven feet tall. At least it matched his voice, soothing though it was.
"No, no, don't strain. I suppose it's not quite time after all. You'll awake when your mind and body are ready.? He paused, then spoke again, as though to someone else.? Notation: Patient is in final stages of Healer's Sleep and is conscious. Orientation will be postponed until further examination in the morning.?
I felt him gently take my hand in his. Bedside manner is all well and good, and despite a voice that belonged to construction foreman, his was reassuring. But this was a little much. I tried again to open my eyes. It seemed as though my mind wanted to wake up, but my body didn't. I'd never had an experience like this before. He sensed my struggle.
"Please. Just relax. I know you're feeling different. You're in the final stage of an imposed condition medicine calls Healer's Sleep. You're awake mentally, but still in near coma physically. This gives the double advantage of your body committing its vast resources to healing, while freeing your mind to help in the process. The medicine in your day assumed that a positive mental outlook aided in healing. A good assumption, because it's true. Healer's Sleep allows you to take full advantage of that. Since this is probably your first experience with it, Healer's Sleep can be disorienting. Take my advice and stay calm.
When your body is healed sufficiently to spare energy to other functions, you'll regain control.? He squeezed my hand reassuringly. I almost wished I could slug him. Still, he was the doctor, and I tried to take his advice. Presently, I felt my body relax slightly, and my breathing rate decline. It was the strangest sensation, as though I was only along for the ride, and my body was the driver.
Apparently the change was enough for him to notice, for he released my hand and stood up. I heard him move around the room.
"Good, good. I must apologize for trying to awaken you prematurely. For about an hour this morning, it looked as though we'd have to either force you awake-not a good idea-or abandon you. Fortunately, it was a false alarm.? He paused.? Hmmm. I suppose this is very confusing to you and getting worse.
Again, I apologize. Let's try a different tack.
"My name is Philip Barrett. Doctor Philip Barrett. I'm a specialist in cognitive reconstruction. A brain surgeon is the ancient term, I believe. You are my patient. My only patient for the moment, so I'll be spending a good deal of time with you for the foreseeable future.? He gave a short laugh.? Future.
There's a word I suspect you'll think of differently before long. Sorry. Shouldn't be so cryptic. One of my idiosyncrasies, I suppose. But it's also that I've rarely dealt with a case as-advanced-as yours. I'm not trying to keep you unawares. But I wish to restrict what I say until you're altogether, as it were. So I'll give you tempting morsels and less alarming information for the next day or so, then fill you in completely when you're fully conscious."
He may have had an odd way of saying things, but he made a lot of sense. By keeping me in the know, to a limited degree, he roused my curiosity while keeping under control my understandable nervousness over my helpless state. Although I didn't like the idea of having others decide what I was going to hear, I didn't have a lot of say at the moment and, frankly, enjoyed the company. He seemed to have read my mind.
"In the meantime, I imagine hearing anything will help pass the time. Well, where to begin? This is, as you've probably guessed by now, a number of years into your future. You've spent those years in an altered state. Bluntly, you were not yourself. You were… someone different. Let's talk about that, shall we? When you're up to it, we'll talk about your case specifically. For now, I'll give you the story in general.? He added, somewhat bitterly,? I suppose I should begin with 'Once upon a time', huh?"
"Once upon a time, a process was developed that allowed the mind to be wiped and re-mapped, with a new persona being written to an unused portion of the mind. The idea first got started as a treatment.
People who had suffered severe cranial trauma were often left in a vegetative state. The option was made available to reroute the mind, bringing it back to a functional state. Unfortunately, all memories were lost, and a new persona was the result. Still, many loved ones of the patient chose this over seeing the individual wither away, to die a lingering and unknowing death.
"Later, many governments saw this rerouting as a viable alternative to the death penalty. Since any mind, once rewritten, closed off previously used portions, the criminal suffered a type of death, yet was able to be returned to the community, a valuable and productive citizen, utterly unaware of their past life.
"This worked so well that it became a broader treatment, and abuses began. Violent offenders, those who were guilty of cruel acts that didn't merit death, were reprogrammed. The success of the program soared. Insanity became the next just cause for wiping and rewriting. Then, with the progress of suspended animation, terminal patients submitted to the wipes just prior to suspension, to help adjust to a newer brighter future after being revived. Fools-willing to give up who they were, because they were afraid of what their future life might hold. Soon, individuals who were merely depressed had the treatment.
"It was at that point that a problem came up. The medical community had labored under the assumption that returning the patient to his or her own original persona was difficult but possible. Early experimentation on simian subjects indicated such. Well, the early experimentation was also very preliminary, very cursory, and very, very wrong. It turned out that once closed off, that portion of the mind was never accessible again. At least at that time. We can now reset the original patterns. It is very difficult, but possible. We'll discuss that later.
"Further, it was an all or nothing proposition. A mind wipe was in all cases complete, no editing allowed.
And finally, wiping and rewriting not only didn't solve all the problems, it made some worse. People who had been insane now became criminally insane. Others who were treated for depression went into a vegetative state. And some of those sentenced to death had sufficient problems with the chemical make up of their brains that wiping and rewriting only covered the problem temporarily. Certainly, the vast majority of treatments were successful, but enough failed to give even an ambitious government pause.
"Then one day, a man was convicted of murder, sentenced to death, and rewritten. Only this time it was for the worse. The psychology of the day had actually mitigated the problem, and his original state was a best case scenario. The rewrite erased that work, and his mental condition deteriorated. Records prove he killed nearly 300 people over five years before being killed himself. Other cases came to light, though none as notorious as his. And the public finally woke up to the moral difficulties of this rewriting.
Watchdog groups sprang up overnight, some more prepared than others. It looked as if the entire mess would be dropped entirely, and the rewriting process abandoned.
"Then some idiot came up with the idea, why not just re-rewrite if things didn't turn out? While the connection between mind and brain is difficult to explain, it is essentially a one to one ratio. Development of the brain is related to the advancement of the mind. And the average human mind uses only the smallest fraction of his or her brain over an entire lifetime, so there was enough of the brain for literally dozens of rewrites of the mind. In one case, which I'll talk about later, the mind was written forty-one times. So instead of dying the death of atrocities, mind wiping continued, and rewritten rewrites became the thing to do in case of failure. Your generation had the perfect phrase: 'If at first you don't succeed, success will happen on the next try.' Public awareness again went on the decline, and acceptance of the rewrites as an everyday thing reemerged."
I was getting the distinct impression that I had been out for a long time, which made me somewhat concerned about my physical well-being. The thought of waking up a withered old man with a thirty-one-year-old mind and memories put a lump in my gut, or would have if my head was in charge. I forced myself to be calm. Dr. Barrett had mentioned work with suspended animation. We had already started work with it at NATech before I… before I… I realized for the first time that I had no idea what had happened to me. Regardless, I guessed that the chances were good that NATech had rushed the process to keep me alive and kicking. Or at least alive. It was within the realm of probability that I had aged little. Perhaps it wouldn't be a total… Dr. Barrett was talking again.
"…worse when the government let go of its monopoly and the for-profit business industry got involved.
Public outcry was again huge, especially from those who felt a sense of moral outrage. Extremist groups began appearing, hoping to sabotage the efforts. They felt that it was far better to work outside the law effectively than labor inside it uselessly.? That sounded right. There were always those who felt that disagreement was justification for new law, enforced outside legal authority, with judgment and punishment based on their own convictions. I wondered if these fringe groups had seen the irony: They wanted to rewrite the law on rewriting minds. If law is not the mind of a society, it is at least its conscience and at most its soul.
I heard a stool scrape the floor as Dr. Barrett stood up and came to my side. For a man of his size, he had an incredibly light step, and again took my hands in his huge paws. My hands were average size, but seemed tiny in his. How he performed delicate operations on the brain was beyond me. He was talking again.
"…drifting in and out, judging by the readings. We'll pick up the conversation tomorrow. You may come out of Healer's Sleep sometime tonight. If so, just speak up. My quarters are less than twenty meters from here, and I'll be over in a flash. Don't try to stand up. You've been off your feet, or at least the real you has been, for a long time, and it's possible you've forgotten how to walk,? he chuckled.? Don't worry, though. It's a lot easier the second time around. There are a lot of things you'll have to relearn, but I rather think you'll enjoy most of it. What we gathered from your outbursts during mind restoration indicated an intelligent and quick-witted person. Well, good night.? He squeezed my hands one more time, then left. I didn't hear the door open or close, but the light must have been shut off, because it seemed darker. I was alone with my thoughts.
Alone with my thoughts. The sentence was so common, so bandied about, that I had never given real consideration to its meaning. This was apparently the first time my thoughts were my own in some years.
The good doctor had flat out told me that I hadn't even been me for a while. Who I had been and for how long, I couldn't guess. I didn't even have a feel, which was something I was normally good at. I felt like me, and always had. I tried to scrounge around in my poor abused brain, trying to dig up something that didn't seem
AIR TRAFFIC PATTERNS FOR THE ENTIRE EASTERN SEABOARD ARE BEING REROUTED TO AIRPORTS WEST OF THE MISSISSIPPI, BUT IT IS ESTIMATED AT LEAST 40% WILL BE UNABLE TO LAND SAFELY. CASUALTIES ARE ESTIMATED AT 14,500 DEAD AND 3,000 INJURED. BOTH NUMBERS ARE BETWEEN 5.1% TO 7.8% BELOW ANTICIPATED SCENARIO. USING AIRPORTS WITH MODERATE RADIATION IN WESTERN PENNSYLVANIA AND NORTHERN VIRGINIA WILL FURTHER REDUCE THE ESTIMATED CASUALTIES.
like me, but couldn't. For all I knew, Dr. Barrett could just be a fluent liar. Or he could be completely accurate, and I had been someone else. Maybe several someone elses if my first? rewrite? hadn't panned out. I wondered what the criteria were for a new wipe and rewrite. And why was I me again?
Dr. Barrett left me with the idea that it was impossible to restore memories. Then I realized he would have meant it was impossible at that time.
Which led to the question: How far in the future was I? The good doctor spoke as if these events were well into the past. By tone of voice, misquote of the? if at first? saying, and personal opinion stressed, I'd estimate at least three to five generations, which would put me about 100 years at least. One hundred years! Well, that meant I had been put in suspended animation. And undoubtedly as a mature to middle-aged man. Not a lot of point in preserving a withered shell who didn't know who he was and would probably not survive the suspension anyway. That made me feel a lot better. Though I had precious little to go on, I could count on being close to my original self when I awoke from this Healer's Sleep. I would be older, having lived some years as a different persona, but still have some years left, which is far better than living out life with the IQ of a zucchini. Mentally, I magnanimously gave up a chunk of my life to science as payment for restoring me. Since I couldn't do anything about it anyway, I might as well accept it. (Thus underscoring the value of Healer's Sleep. My mind and body were working separately to heal themselves simultaneously.)
I was satisfied with these estimates and suppositions. Remember, my career was coming up with realistic solutions to unrealistic ideas. This was a very similar exercise. I turned my thoughts to the other end of the question. If I was at least 100 years into my future, what was I at most? This was a tougher, and therefore more enjoyable, question. I had no direct indications from Dr. Barrett, but he still told me a lot.
First, I was able to easily understand him. Living languages evolve-just read the Canterbury Tales in middle English sometime and you'll see my point-but his speech seemed very close to mine. Of course, he could also be an accomplished linguist, which would make sense for his line of medicine and his type of patient. It didn't make a lot of sense to revive someone, lean close to their ear and say,? 6iekwUs vBerdiow r?? But even his being a linguist would indicate a limited time span. You can't have a medical specialist who is also good at 500 years worth of dialects. I work on unrealistic problems, but statistics and odds do, too, and I used them. So, greater than 100, but less than 500.
I continued for some time, eagerly using my mind and the available facts to settle myself into my new world. Somewhere along the line, about the time I had reduced the number to less than 300 years, I drifted off into normal sleep inside my Healer's Sleep.
I woke up twice in the night. The first time, it was because of another presence in the room. My visitor had a much lighter, feminine step, and she seemed to move about with the confidence of someone going about their duties. She picked up my wrist and took my pulse quietly, but didn't try not to wake me. Her hand was a decided improvement on Dr. Barrett's steam shovels. It was nice that science hadn't completely eliminated the human touch. Presently she took it again at my neck. Satisfied, she moved up closer to my head. I heard a soft voice say,? Increase nutrients by six point five percent and restoration fluid by fourteen percent, Doctor Philip Barrett authorization 4699NRF.? I felt a cool tingle in my left arm that spread quickly through my body then faded. I was in the same state, but seemed stronger somehow.
She moved away to another corner of the room and there came the sound of water running. I heard her walk back, rolling what had to be a table with the water. Warm, soft hands then pulled back the sheets and undid my hospital garb, and I was the recipient of the most glorious sponge bath since the invention of medicine. I was extremely glad my mind and body weren't connected. If I could have physically responded to mental impulses, she probably would have hit me with a bedpan, if they still existed. All too soon, she finished up, clothed me, pulled the covers back up, and left. Like Dr. Barrett, she made no noise when she departed, but I could feel that I was alone again, though much happier. I went back to sleep.
The second time I woke up, it was due to internal stimuli, rather than external. The increase in nutrients and fluids had had their effect. I still couldn't move, speak or see, but I could definitely go, to put it indelicately. And I went, hoping that the fictional bedpan that the nurse didn't hit me with had been replaced by something more functional and… automatic. The sensation of emptying one's bladder while in Healer's Sleep was another experience, one I won't go into great detail about here. The sensation was entirely internal, rather than the more familiar internal/external feeling I associated it with. But when I was done the sheets weren't any warmer, so I gave it no thought and went back to sleep.
"Wake up. Good morning! Time to wake up!? Dr. Barrett's soft gruffness and hand holding were in full force. I was still a little uncomfortable with it, but had decided to accept it and try to like it. During my brainstorming last night, the reason for his physical touch between two men, even in a doctor/patient relationship, became pretty clear. Society had moved to the position of the acceptability of pseudo-intimate touch between men. While still a little uncomfortable with it, I was glad to receive contact from my new world other than just audio. So I tried to appreciate it.
My thinking must have shown I was awake, for he began speaking directly to me.? Well! Good morning! I hope you had a pleasant night's sleep. I understand that the increase in nutrients and fluids have begun stirring you out of your Healer's Sleep. Would you like to wake up all the way now? Just nod your head."
I felt myself nodding automatically, but as soon as I realized it, my head stopped. I tried to start nodding again-any voluntary motion was wonderful-but couldn't. It was maddening. He chuckled.
"Excellent! But don't try anything more. Whatever you have to think about, you probably won't be able to do. But not to worry. Judging by your progress, you should emerge sometime tonight, maybe early tomorrow morning. Very fortunate timing.? I waited for him to expand on that, but he continued.?
Again, when you do wake up, just speak up. Say something like, 'Please contact Doctor Barrett,' and the computer will notify me immediately. Don't bother to give your name, because I haven't the foggiest idea what it is.? I involuntarily held my breath for a moment with surprise. He must really know his patients because he spotted it, and laughed.
"Surprised? Don't be. I only know you from your false persona. The way our group works… well, let's pick up from where I left off, okay? I'll conduct a quick physical while talking. Should do something to earn my keep. Don't be upset with the different sensations you'll feel. Healer's Sleep has a way of warping your perceptions, especially in its closing stages."
I felt the sheets being drawn back, and the doctor begin plying his trade. He talked while he performed the physical, which was a far less pleasant sensation than my sponge bath. I tried to picture the nurse and her attentions instead of Dr. Barrett, but the thought of her was little comfort. Odd.
"Before you tired last night, I believe I had gotten to the point in my story where the government had released the wipe/re-write process to the business industry. By the way, the idiomatic term for wiping and rewriting process is 'ripe'. It's a blend of the two words, though reversed. I suppose it became popular in its day because of its similarity to 'rape', which this most definitely could be, used against one's will. Which, once the industries got their hands on it, it most certainly was.
"It was bad enough with the government having a monopoly. But at least they didn't market the thing.
Once legalized for anyone who became licensed, though, it turned into a nightmare. It began being used as a tease for the high level jobs. If you were willing to submit, you could become a wealthy company executive within the week. I'm shocked that there was any appeal to it at all. But for some reason, there was. The economy at the time was robust enough, but the moral fiber had worn thin. Many 'applicants', mostly single people, submitted to the process. The employer allowed the employee to decide the persona, and added their own needs, usually high level education, loyalty and firm work ethic. It's amazing what people will give up for credits."
He finished the examination and pulled the sheets back up. He'd been right; it had felt different. I'd have sworn I had at least six arms and no torso. I had also felt terribly exposed, with the overwhelming urge to curl up into a ball.
"Anyway, this incredible situation went on for several… er, some time before it was finally discovered by one of the watchdog groups, a more extreme one, that many companies were not giving out just cushy jobs. They were also riping people for the dangerous jobs, the jobs nobody in their right minds would take, pun intended.
"Further, this same extremist group had been uncovering a very scary trend. As riping became popular, homelessness had plummeted. This was attributed to the fact that a riping could radically change anyone's views, ethics and even mental symptoms of addiction. Remember, it was for the first two reasons that riping first spread into the penal system. No one had asked how, why, or most importantly where these homeless went. Most were just glad they were gone.
"Then one day, during an… action against a large corporation, this extremist group discovered that the entire security system was being controlled by a homeless person who had been riped. Against his will.
"Once this story had been told and proven over and over, the whole thing tumbled down. Everyone was willing to give up everything to get ahead, but only on their say-so. Now it was being decided by others.
That fine line that dictates whether a practice will be tolerated or abolished had been crossed. It had taken years for riping to become commonplace. It took days to eliminate it. In less than a week, the government seized control of the riping process and invalidated every public sector license issued. It then passed very comprehensive laws, enforced by very comprehensive punishments, to utterly abolish riping.
To its credit, both the public and their servants reacted swiftly and completely.
"With two glaring exceptions. First was the exemption given to convicted killers and catatonic patients.
They are still riped today.? Barrett snorted in disgust.? They will never learn. Or maybe they did.
There's deep suspicion that not all convicted killers and catatonic patients were actually that at the time of riping.
"The second exception is the infamous 'grandfather clause'. The government did abolish riping. Totally.
But it allowed those who had already been riped to continue on in their current state, until death by natural causes. By now, a process had been developed, of which you are a recipient, to restore the original persona, with only moderate risk to the individual. Many people thought this would be the proper thing to do, and there was a considerable movement to pass this law. But successful pressure was brought to bear by those standing to lose, and the government, perhaps aware how much power still resided in the corporate circle, caved in and permitted ripes to remain as they were. Further, they made it illegal to even attempt original persona restorations. And that's the way it remains today."
Even if I had been able to say something, I doubt I could have. This was an incredible tale, a terrifying tale. Could we have so married ourselves to technology that we would submit to it, rather than it to us?
Another thought nagged at me; if the government had reverted to Dred Scott logic, where did that put me? And the good doctor, who had virtually confessed to a criminal activity, a criminal career, restoring original personas? My want to get out of this Healer's Sleep took on a desperate tone.
"If you're wondering why I've told you this, admitting to illegal activity, well, I think you deserve an answer. First, I must tell you that you will not be sought or prosecuted. It was determined very early on that restored personas could in no way be held responsible for actions performed on them before their restoration. You do have another concern I'll have to tell you about, though. Later.
"The reasons I've told you all this are both selfless and selfish. They are selfish because although I firmly believe in what I do, it is still salve for my soul to have my patient's understanding. They are selfless, because I've now admitted to a crime, voluntarily, to you. And under law, your testimony can have me imprisoned or executed. But you need to know this because the society you will soon be a part of is so different. We've managed to estimate the date of your original riping, and you're one of the first, if it's true. You also need to know because I'm sure you've figured out that this is an illegal facility, and Lieutenant Sanchez, the base commander, has told us we may need to leave very soon. It would help immensely if we had your conscious cooperation when that time comes. There are other reasons, which I'll tell you upon awakening."
He walked to the top of my bed and spoke to the wall,? Increase nutrients by thirteen percent and restoration fluid by twenty-one percent, Doctor Philip Barrett authorization 4699NRF.? Again I felt the surge and cool tingle in my arm that washed over my whole body then disappeared like a flash flood into the desert sand. And again I was left with a feeling of strength.
And this time I also saw the ceiling. For a moment, my vision returned. It was very blurry and lasted only briefly. But it was enough to see the lighting directly above me and a instrumentation panel on my left. I saw a blur walk back to my right side, and it took everything I had to not turn my head. But for one second of time, I was certain I could have turned it had I wished to. Then the second was gone and I was blind and helpless again.
"That should continue easing the Healer's Sleep. Not too fast, though. From my examination just now and the readings from last night, it appears you'll be ready no sooner than tomorrow night. That is a longer time than usual, but still within norms. Sorry if I got your hopes up. In the meantime, please take advantage of this time to heal and adjust to this impossible situation. I can't stress enough how important it is that you trust me, at least until you've oriented yourself to our culture.? I could almost sense his smile.? I am your doctor, after all. Well, get some sleep. We'll talk again this evening."
As he left-I still couldn't place the door, but his footsteps seemed to indicate it was located on my right-I thought, Yeah, we'll talk again this evening. And never again, if I get my way.