For once Alan had awoken early and on his own terms; he was appreciating this short period of me-time.
He inspected himself in the mirror: another pale grey suit and a plain white shirt. He looked presentable, as always, but he really needed to do something about this dreary attire: fine for Digital Alan, who was only ever interested in looking smart, but now he wanted to look sharp.
He removed his navy blue tie and undid the top button of his shirt. Better, but this just brought him into line with the typical male City worker; it was still a somewhat stuffy look for a “day out” to the West Country. Not that today felt like a holiday to him, he was actually dreading it, and harbouring more than a suspicion that this was in fact a terribly ill-judged move by Warner, and, by extension, himself.
Alan ruffled his hair a bit. Better still! He was actually quite good-looking. He threw a few poses… If he could just drop the suit and perhaps… How about t-shirt and shorts? They would suit the weather better… His intercom buzzed. Too late. Anyway, he didn’t possess any t-shirts or shorts.
‘I’ll be right down.’
He left his apartment – possibly for the last time, he mused. He’d miss this place! No he wouldn’t! If he somehow managed to survive this perilous day, the first thing he’d do would be to replace it – the same time he replaced his wardrobe.
‘Got an appointment in court? Ah, no, you’ve taken your tie off.’
‘Actually, Helen, I was thinking the exact same thing! These bloody demob suits seem to be the only togs I have!’
Warner laughed. Unlike Alan, she had fully embraced the summer day-trip ethos and was standing proudly by her car wearing a bright flowery dress, matching hat and sunglasses. All very different from the dark power suits she normally favoured. She was almost unrecognizable.
‘You look…’
‘What!?’
‘Radiant!’
Warner truly deserved a better complement than that, however, she seemed to be happy with it. ‘Thank you! Now hop in, there’s a long drive ahead of us and perhaps we could start off by finding a replacement for that “demob suit”.’
Warner instructed Gavin to drive to one of the West End’s large department stores where she set about finding some “suitable” clothes for Alan. An hour later, he emerged in knee-length shorts, navy plimsolls, and something called a granddad shirt. He felt horribly self-conscious; the only thing missing from this ensemble was a baseball cap with a yellow propeller on top.
‘You look fabulous, Alan,’ remarked Warner. Alan glanced over at Gavin for moral support but the t-shirt-wearing chauffeur ignored him.
The journey through London was slow but relaxed, with the conversation sticking to easy generalities such as fashion, celebrity culture and reality TV. Alan knew very little about any of these but Warner made them all sound fascinating and vital. They were the sorts of things Alan should understand better, he thought.
Eventually, perhaps after one traffic jam too many, the conversation began to stutter and Warner started to grow impatient, even fractious.
‘How long before we hit the M4, Gavin?’
‘About ten minutes?’
Warner was not impressed: ‘It would have been quicker to walk!’ The comment appeared to be directed at Gavin but she glared at Alan. And she seemed to be waiting for a reply.
‘Yep,’ agreed Alan.
Warner rolled her eyes and began studying her smart phone. Alan sat back and vacantly viewed the scenes outside the car: buildings, traffic, people... Same-old, same-old – but for how much longer..?
‘Do you think we will be able to save all this?’ he asked.
‘Save what?’
‘The modern world!’ Alan glanced over at Gavin, and then whispered to Warner: ‘Can we speak in front of–’
‘Yes,’ replied Warner.
‘Was that a yes to–’
‘To both questions: yes we can save “this” and yes, ignore him!’
Alan felt reassured by this reply. The probabilities of success had not been discussed since Tuesday when Warner had announced that she would “go down fighting”.
‘So the odds have improved then?’
‘Not exactly improved, just more clearly and quantifiably understood: The genetic switching required is explained on the psynet and the technical challenges are just about compatible with modern engineering.’
Alan nodded: ‘And the psynet has demonstrated its other capabilities, and we’ve got the PM in our pocket.’
‘He’s not exactly in our pocket, but yes, we have made a satisfactory start.’ Warner continued to study her phone.
‘So what are the worries?’ asked Alan.
Warner switched off her phone and grudgingly replied to Alan: ‘The overall shape of this thing.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘It’s not just a case of activating or deactivating certain genes at certain times. This activity is in a continuous feedback loop with the human system itself, and it is this linkage that informs on what further epigenetic changes need to be applied going forward.’
‘…And that’s not explained on the psynet?’
‘It can’t be, not fully, The Sponsors were expected to work it out as they went along, to continually adapt and edit – as they had been doing for thousands of years.’
Alan frowned: ‘Well that sounds bad.’
‘Hmm, yes and no.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The configuration needed to retain our physical forms and, broadly speaking, our mental abilities, is in place now within our genomes and can be reapplied indefinitely, every time nature, or natural selective pressure, tries to switch it back to the pre-human configuration. It’ll be like weeding a garden: an endless chore rather than an impossible technical challenge.’
‘Okay, not so bad.’
‘Yes, that’s the physical side of things taken care of, but remember that feedback loop I mentioned? The human system is now developing exponentially. It will soon become incompatible with the current “code” and so that code will require editing in order to keep up. And I have no idea how to do that! Any hasty intervention could spell disaster, as could no intervention.’
‘We’re back to bad again!’
‘Hmm, well there is one morsel of hope: if the human system develops ahead of the switching code currently in place it itself may furnish the answers we need to revise the code.’
‘You’ve lost me, Helen.’
‘The study of genetics and epigenetics needs to be placed as a top priority, especially once the engineering and political battles have been won. It needs to be at the cutting edge of human-system know-how, in other words: we’ll need to set up dedicated genetics labs, and we’ll need the best brains the planet has to offer.’
‘My god, this does sound daunting!’
‘Yeah, you can say that again,’ replied Warner, suddenly looking as though she carried the cares of the world upon her slender shoulders, ‘and assuming we do manage to keep the whole show running, all we’re effectively doing is maintaining the Sponsor programme. Should we even be doing that?’
Alan nodded: ‘I’ve also been wondering about the Sponsors’ ultimate goal. But, that’s the future, right? We should just worry about the present!’
‘Yes, well the future may be coming sooner than you think. Once technology passes a certain threshold it will become the human system. Where do you imagine actual humans will fit into that?’
‘Dunno,’ replied Alan.
‘As slaves, bio-material or not at all, would be my guess.’ Warner gazed out of her window… ‘Perhaps these “Earth Gods” of yours may be willing to guide us.’
‘They’re not mine,’ replied Alan, ‘and why would they help? They’re more likely to hinder!’
‘I don’t think so. They have been helpful already.’
***