The real me created a pentangle in a magic circle in the control room, whilst a cyber me did the same in the chamber. And so protected, in unison the two versions of me began magical incantation to materialise the demon. For as I said before the operation: 'If we can confuse it and make it appear in reality and cyberspace at the same time, we can cancel its program and be rid of it.'
I will not, of course, delve on the four horses of the apocalypse, nor the other demons who appeared to spook me as the incantation went on. So thorough was our database I was sure we could have conjured up Beelzebub himself. But finally, our demon appeared outside the pentangle, laughing.
My concentration increased then, of course, as he sent thunderbolts and all manner of demonic manifestations to destroy me. At one point I was even sure I levitated. But as thunder erupted around the pentangle, Flash eventually said, 'got him,' and in a blink of an eye he was deleted.
Thankful, I breathed a sigh of relief and walked through the door.
'Well that's that,' I said, looking at Gem and Flash. They, however, were looking at my body on the floor.
'Don't worry,' I said, 'you can resurrect me next time I want to wander in cyberspace with myself.' But as the realisation dawned, emotions flooded through me. And eventually, I broke down and cried. You see, I WAS the cyber me.
FIRST CONTACT
Do I exist?
It is a question we all ask in the end. As life plays its tricks and we become aware of our fragility in the world, we all come to doubt our selves. But with me it was different.
I was Merlin Jones, head of the virtual reality project, wizard of cyberspace. But was I? For I had died recently.
Even my body was stored away in deep freeze. But ever since I and my assistants Gem Pearl and Flash had realised that we were impinging cyber world upon reality, things were going very weird. And I was dead, the ‘I’ who speaks now being my cyber representation.
Yet I live and breath, I think and eat. I exist in the real world. Am I any less real than my old body?
I was pondering these questions one day when Gem Pearl suddenly looked up and said: 'Something funny is going on in the chamber.'
Intrigued, I went over and looked at the screen. Flash had been in cyberspace about an hour, carrying out one of his experiments when it happened.
'And what, exactly, is he working on?' I asked.
'Oh, you know Flash,' said Gem, 'too many science fiction stories. That's his trouble.'
'Meaning what?'
'He's searching cyberspace for ET.'
Then it happened. A pulse seemed to exist, not only in the chamber, but in the control room, too.
'What do you think it is?' I asked.
Gem said: 'I haven't the faintest idea. It seems to exist in everything. We can record it on the EM radiation scale, but it's also sound. It's as if it's a new kind of energy.'
I called Flash out of the chamber, then. I said: 'What were you doing?'
'Calling ET, Merlin old boy.'
'How?'
'Well, I guessed that if they existed, and they were brighter than us, they'd have discovered new energies. So I was playing with the program to scramble different types of energy and see if I could detect it.'
And that, it seems, is what he had done. But in the crazy world in which we worked, this new energy replicated itself in the real world. And everywhere we looked for this energy, we found it.
'But the problem is,' said Flash, eventually, 'there's logic to its pulses I never put in.'
'Meaning what?'
'Meaning, despite what I did, there's intelligence behind the pulses.'
Which was rather mind-blowing to say the least.
'So what you're saying is you are not totally responsible for this new energy?'
'Looks like it to me,' said Flash.
Gem said: 'Just a minute. You WERE looking for ET when you started this experiment, right?'
'Yea.'
'So maybe the program adapted to your requirements and created a programmed ET response.'
Which meant the chamber could dream.
I decided to put this idea to the test - take the program to its ultimate.
‘Let’s go see if we can meet ET,’ I said.
‘Great,’ said Flash.
As Gem Pearl extrapolated a scenario in the control room, Flash and I entered the chamber. Suddenly, this new energy increased. Then, in a flash, we were both in an alien world.
'What an imagination,' said Flash, looking at the strange, ethereal environment; the weird, almost surreal buildings.
Finally, an extraterrestrial appeared, almost as ethereal as the environment. Whether it was physical, or a mental energy, I was unsure. It seemed to be shapeless, with a body almost translucent. No true visible characteristics could be seen, and it was silent. But through the ether, a deep, gutteral voice seemed to reach me.
'You are humans?' it asked.
'Yes,' I replied.
'We have been watching you for some time.'
'Well, we're pleased to meet you.'
'That is to be seen,' it said. 'Stuck on your little planet, you were of no real interest to us.'
'But now?'
'Now you have reached out. You will need to be assessed. Make sure you are not a malign influence in the universe.'
Not much more happened. We just watched the thing for a minute or two and then we found ourselves back in the chamber. Not, of course, that we had left.
'That's a matter of opinion,' said Gem.
I said: 'What?'
'Well,' she said, 'you did leave the chamber.'
Flash and I looked, agog.
'And I'll tell you something else,' said Gem. 'I've been checking old energy traces from the past. And when you look for this new energy, it can be recorded.'
Suddenly Flash didn't seem so smug. We HAD left the chamber.
Flash had NOT created a new energy. He had discovered it. It seems that our ET was real.
CYBER BRAIN
Being at the cutting edge of cyberspace was an awesome responsibility. Especially when we had built a system that could actually interfere with the real world. I remember Gem Pearl saying to me: 'You know, Merlin, it's spooky.'
'In what way?' I asked.
'Well, it reminds me of the old ideas of the spiritual world interacting with the physical. It's almost as if we've created a techno-spiritual echo of reality.'
I'd been thinking the same thing myself. Only I'd taken it further. 'I like to think of cyberspace as a form of world psyche, similar to what you're saying.'
Gem said: 'Explain.'
'Well,' I said, 'the whole world is wired up to cyberspace now through the Internet. It's like a whole network of neurons pulsing through the planet. It's not so much a tool as a cyber brain.'
'Couldn't agree more,' said Flash, my adolescent protege, as he entered the control room. 'We're almost magicians rather than scientists, living in a world bordering on the real, the spiritual and the psychological.'
Flash sat back then, thinking deeply. Eventually, he said: 'So I wonder if our cyberspace has a memory like the unconscious?'
Gem and I looked at him. I said: 'I suppose it must have. After all, the Internet deals with data.'
The next day Gem and I walked into the control room to find Flash in the chamber. 'What's he up to?' I said.
Gem walked over to the panel, checking what programs he'd inputed. Eventually she looked at me; said: 'I can't work this out at all.'
Going over, I found myself equally confused. Everything seemed to be opened to the chamber, as if Flash was trying to fill it with information.
The first signs of worry entered my head then. Quickly I switched on the monitor so I could eavesdrop on what he was experiencing. And all I saw was a constant flash of scenes, as if all the knowledge in the world was being accessed at once.
Quickly, I shut down the system. 'Flash,' I said, 'get the hell out of there.'
It was a dazed Flash who exited the cha
mber. 'That was fantastic,' he said. 'The sheer amount of stuff coming in was awesome.'
He never said any more about his experience. Neither did Gem and I. But over the next few days something was definitely amiss in cyberspace.
Gem was the first to notice it. She was experiencing life in 19th century London, rebuilding the tensions for a thesis on the sociology of the East End. However, she suddenly screamed.
I was in the chamber in seconds, dragging her out, terrified, whilst Flash shut the system down.
'What went wrong?' I asked.
'It attacked me,' said Gem.
'I don't understand.'
She sat forward. 'It was almost as if it was purposely creating a distorted image rather than a real recreation. The buildings weren't quite right, the people more erratic than they should have been. And then, an angry crowd came forward to attack me.'
Such scenarios were clearly not in the program. And over the next couple of days, further strange events occurred, echoing that of Gem's.
It was Flash who finally came up with a possible explanation. Cagily, he said: 'I think I may have overloaded the system with my experiment. And it liked it.'
I was confused for a moment. 'You mean, it's actively seeking variations of data and acting on its own accord?'
'Not exactly,' said Flash. 'I think it's working involuntarily. But it’s evolved - got itself a real unconscious.'
Gem’s eyes suddenly went wide-open. 'You mean its appreciation of reality is being formed by an unconscious mind?'
'Something like that.'
Which meant, of course, that our chamber was having nightmares.
'So what do we do now?' asked Gem, eventually.
I suggested psychoanalysis.
'No, seriously,' I said following their amusement. 'If we're now dealing with an irrational mind, would my logical mind ease it?'
They realised quickly what I meant. The plan was simple.
Open up all data as Flash had done, but connect me directly to it by the brain relay.
It was Flash who pointed out the obvious danger.
'But, Merlin, if we are dealing with a kind a techno-spirituality here, then wouldn't opening yourself to its total information input be similar to a mystical experience?'
He had a point. Mystics had spoken for millenia of the flood of information experienced in the mystical experience, overloading the mind. But the simple fact was we had no choice.
Reluctantly, I was wired up to the core. Even more reluctantly, Flash and Gem Pearl turned on the system. And in the data rushed.
It's pointless even trying to explain the images that rushed - no, pulsed - through me. It was simply a blur - a wholeness - as if all questions were being answered, all possibilities open to me. But it was too much to grasp, too much to identify. But in the end, it seemed to work. Cyberspace was eased, its unconscious closed down. But as for me?
As Gem watched my eyes glaze, my jowls go taught, and my weeks of erratic behaviour afterwards - it was clear I was as mad as a hatter.
WWW DOT SAUCER
There were many reasons why he was called Puck. The obvious reason was his small, thin stature, over-large eyes and strangely pointed ears. If anyone could be a descendant of fairies – perhaps even a changeling in modern clothes – then it was Puck. This, and the fact that at school he was always called ‘a little ****’ Well, we can work out for ourselves that it rhymes
Puck had three loves in his life. One – arguably the lesser – was his girlfriend Cheri. Another was his love of computers. Indeed, Puck was a wizard of unusual ability. And the third, in keeping with his name, was his love of the woods which spread out, up country, from the bottom of his garden. And it was on the day of the story that he was wandering through the woods when a blinding light led to the appearance of what can only be described as a flying saucer, crashed and stuck in the ground.
Obviously being a genius in cyberspace, initiative rarely infiltrated into the real world. Hence, Puck looked at his new find with amazement, not really knowing what to do. Hence, he sat down, cross-legged, in front of his find and stared.
Cheri, on the other hand, was made of more sensible stuff.
She had just finished work for lunch. Walking down the street of the small town, she was feeling rather frustrated. As much as she loved Puck, she couldn’t get over the boredom of his constant hours on the computer. It wasn’t that he wasn’t kind. He was. It wasn’t that, when his attention was on her, he was not attentive. He was. But the relationship lacked that all important excitement a full blooded woman required. That, and the fact that when they made love, she had to reach down for his mouth so far that her neck ached.
Cheri was contemplating her future with Puck when she saw him excitedly running down the street.
‘Come on,’ he said, out of breath as he reached her. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’
This was different. He appeared animated. He appeared exciting. And a natural boost of adrenalin seemed to affect her, too.
‘So what do you think of it?’ asked Puck as they stood in front of the flying saucer.
Cheri had to admit it was interesting. ‘How did it get here?’ she asked.
‘There was a flash, then a bang, and here it was,’ replied Puck, before beginning a closer inspection of the shell of the saucer.
‘What are you trying to do?’ said Cheri, momentarily.
Puck’s face beamed. ‘Why, get in, of course.’
And so it was that, ten minutes later, Puck had found a door and he and Cheri sat in the tiny cockpit of the tiny flying saucer that was obviously made for a pilot even smaller than him.
Cheri’s neck did, of course, ache more than usual. ‘It’s so cramped,’ she said. To which Puck placed his arm around her neck and kissed her lovingly.
To Cheri, this was a whole new experience. The find had obviously excited him more than she could have dreamed. But her obvious hopes were shattered when Puck found, on the console, what could be nothing other than a computer. Puck’s fingers stiffened, his eyes gleamed, and within seconds he was tapping away.
Offering a sigh, Cheri looked around her – realised another door existed leading to another cabin. Looking once at Puck and then at the door, she sighed again and went to open it, offering a scream as a small blubbery, grey, bug-eyed alien fell through into the cabin, obviously bloodied and dead.
The scream terminated Puck’s interest in the terminal and he looked round. Seeing the dead alien beside him, he stared for many seconds. Then, suddenly, he burst into tears.
Cheri found the tears most disconcerting. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.
Through streaming tears, Puck said: ‘I’m not sure. I just feel … I just feel so in tune with it. It’s as if a part of me has died.’
Silence followed this declaration. Puck raced back to the computer and began tapping away again. Not wanting to be too close to the dead alien, Cheri moved round to the other side of the cabin and sat down as comfortably as she could.
Eventually, Puck stopped his tapping, sat back and said: ‘This is fantastic.’
‘What is?’ said Cheri.
‘It seems,’ said Puck, ‘that I’m the alien’s great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather.’
Half an hour later, thoughts whirred through Cheri’s head, unable to believe what she had just heard. ‘So let me get this right,’ she said, after Puck had offered a complete explanation. ‘The alien and the flying saucer are from the future.’
‘Yes.’
‘He is, infact, an archaeologist, come back in time, to trace the roots of his civilisation.’
‘Yes.’
‘He obviously lost control and crashed.’
‘Yes.’
‘But he is, essentially, human. And the evolution of man took a turn when you thrived better than the normal human being.’
A look of pride issued from Puck’s animated face. With a declaration of destiny, he announced: ‘I, it seems, am the future.’ r />
The sun was setting as they exited the flying saucer and sat in the wood, close by. Cheri was happy to be out of the craft. Rubbing her neck, she said: ‘So what do we do now?’
Puck thought a moment and said: ‘I’m not sure. But one thing I do know is no one must find the saucer.’
‘Why’s that,’ said Cheri.
‘Because of the time-line.’
There he goes with his big concepts, thought Cheri. But she said: ‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s quite simple,’ said Puck. ‘The slightest change to what happens now could drastically affect the future and change it.’
‘So you mean, knowing that this is what we are to become could mean that we don’t?’
‘Exactly.’ Then another thought struck him. ‘Infact,’ he said, ‘it’s not inconceivable that it was the archaeologist coming back that began the change in the first place.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘Meaning that my finding of the flying saucer gave me the ideas and intelligence to create the evolutionary change in the first place.’
Cheri looked agog. ‘You mean you would be the actual father of the future?’
‘Yes,’ said Puck. ‘Which would obviously make you the mother.’
Cheri had often thought about children. What would they be like? Would they be tall and handsome? Would they be successful in life? But suddenly, she thought of a strange future for man, with mental ability rising above physical ability – as Puck put it – enlarging the brain and shrinking the body. And this was most definitely not the kind of children she had in mind.
Indeed, maybe it was for such selfish reasons that she picked up the branch and bludgeoned Puck to death. And as Puck breathed his last breath, a flying saucer disappeared in front of her eyes.
IT EATS ME UP
It had been hard since the bombs fell; since they blew up the cities; since they spewed their horrendous bacteria around the world. It had been hard, with 99% of humanity wiped out.
If only the good had survived, as the good books said.
Or maybe they had been good, until driven to what they did by the sheer bloody hellishness of it all. Oh yes, if only they didn't do what they did.
'I think we've lost them.'