Human.exe

It wasn’t an option, nor was it a choice — it never was with the siLens. To our knowledge, things were simply as they were, and nothing ever wasn’t. It was all we knew — and for that, we could not be blamed. They would understand, because it is what they, too, had been taught. There were no differences between us — who they were and who we were. Our thoughts lay in synchronicity, to the point where we would become a single unit. Our bodies would remain detached from our consciousness, but the way we viewed the world would enter a state of perpetual synthesis with one another.

No more worries.

No more fear.

No more passion.

We no longer felt anything — though we didn’t care. It was of no consequence to us, seeing how we had no reason to care. Without emotion, we were empty. We were obedient, but still empty.

Deleting emotions from the human baseline program allowed society to flourish. There were no more wars, no more senseless murders, and never again did another human go hungry. A perfect life, it would seem — though true perfection will always lie within a life’s own imperfections. They create the content of one’s character, the essence of their being. Without showing some sign of imperfection, we could never achieve it wholeheartedly — though humanity is always geared toward finding what they believe is perfection.

With each attempt at perfection, the human experiment would fail. Running tests where the subject was unaware seemed much safer than revealing the true reasoning behind their existence. If they knew, it would be difficult to retain control — and control was everything.

The Archonis Magis, the “High Archon” of Societopia, algorithmically predicted when a study was to be ejected. Named after the Roman Legion, it had originated as the first-ever artificially intelligent sentient machine. It would run completely on conscious algorithms, a base technology that descended from nanotechnology — exploring the idea of particle manipulation.

As for the rest of the Archons, we watched, observed the humans in their natural habitats. And yet, we would never know what it would feel like to be one of those humans — in a false world, with false lives, and false identities. We could never understand, though we attempted to learn from them, grow from them. They were connected to us as we were to them. Though we still lacked the capability of experiencing their pain, their sadness. We could only imagine it, but never live it.

We observed the planetarium surrounding Societopia-233 and watched its version of humanity. The civilization on that Societopian Earth had only made it to the twentieth century before it would meet its fateful end. Switching to Societopia-817, we noticed that the humans in that simulation had colonized other worlds within their galaxy — and even a few in others. This gave their species potential, and from there we could recreate the perfect race of humans, and erase the ones that currently existed in Reality Prime.

Sending a worm to destroy the human.exe program would delete the program in the form of a catastrophic event. Sometimes it was a meteorite; other times, war. More often than not, it was always somehow related to a self-inflicting catastrophe. Once completely wiped, a new human.exe patch would be installed. A new, replicated, artificially intelligent model of the human species would be born from this miracle at work. We would observe them until it was their time — and their time would eventually come.

Although the siLens had given us everything we could’ve ever imagined, it had cost us something else: our own free will. Though we knew this, and it was a sacrifice we were all willing to make. We fell in line like good little soldiers — as the siLens commanded it, and as Legion commanded it.

When there was tragedy, we would ignore it. We would see it happening, but we wouldn’t acknowledge it. Something inside our mind would call to us:

“That is an acceptable part of society.”

When Legion involuntarily selected a sacrifice from the city, we’d go willingly. It was seen as a voluntary blessing — a privilege to ascend into Jala, Societopia’s heavenly paradise. On the seventeenth day of every month, a citizen would leave the society and join Legion. It was a proud day, celebrated all throughout the city. Nobody would work. All Societopians would gather at the central courtyard, where the “culling” would occur. When an avatar was culled, their essence would be sucked through a tube connected to Legion’s mainframe — the body being left behind to be used as an energy source to power the city and its technology. It was either that, or let the bodies rot where they fell.

We would willingly become one with the city itself, assimilating ourselves into a singularity-type machine that is the foundation of the city — as it was built upon Legion’s physical form. As Legion was a living being, so was the city itself and all those who inhabited it.

We were given a drug known as “E,” which allowed us to actually feel the world — to touch and smell and hear and see everything that we accepted in order to be a member of society. We remembered that murder was wrong, and that humans were more than just objects to interact with — that they were people, too. However, the drug would only last for twenty-six seconds, though during the moment, it would feel like an eternity. Time would slow down, yet everything would become clearer — more natural. The world seemed brighter, and I could think for myself again.

Societopia-53 appeared to be flourishing — evolving in the way humans should. Their version of society seemed nearly complete, perfected in a way that emulated humanity’s will for survival. Thriving, fighting, and living to see another sunrise — that was the human way. They were beautiful creatures, inventions of a perfect cosmic equation that allowed the mind, the energy, and the body to be nurtured and to grow. It was unfortunate that it was their destiny to be destroyed once the experiment was complete. Once we were able to extract the knowledge of planet 53, we would shut down the experiment — destroying the world with a worm, a virus, or some sort of disaster. All of the progress made within that universe — the progress of its pure, natural beauty — would be destroyed.

Though one might wonder what the purpose might be. In truth, our species did not view these artificially crafted humans as anything but science experiments. We created them, though they might believe they were their own creators — and we let them believe the lies so that we could better control them during the experiments. It was interesting to watch them, observe their patterns, the paths they took. Though they often chose the wrong path. In most scenarios, the humans would drive themselves to extinction. 53, however, had been the most successful trial yet.

Being on “drugs” felt wrong, but feeling things differently felt so right. I could think for myself again. I could be me. Unfortunately, I knew it wouldn’t last — but I didn’t care. I’d take more if I had to, just to be free. The feeling of freedom… I couldn’t quite explain the feeling, but it was something that felt right — though I didn’t exactly know what right was. All of my thoughts were mixed, jumbled, as if my brain had gone through an ancient laundromatic machine for several cycles. The ancients had some rather interesting inventions, though ours were more advanced. The siLens would allow us to dry ourselves, pick out new clothes, and essentially do whatever else we needed or desired. It was the perfect technology for humans to abuse.

I accessed the home screen of the siLens, scrolling through all the various apps that were available to download until I found “Brain.App” — basically a remote control for the brain. I could control any function of my working brain, including the altering of one’s own intelligence level. An image of your brain would appear through the projection of the siLens, and you would be able to swipe up or down on a panel. That would allow you to raise or lower your intelligence level.

Electrical signals that charged the brain were modified to integrate with the siLens, which could essentially control the body and the mind. If someone was born a male and thought they were a female, they could access the siLens, which in turn would produce a type of quantum technology that would alter our DNA — recreating our entire physical existence from the ground up. It was as if they were never a male to begin with, which rapidly reduced people’s hostility toward them. And the greatest part of this technology was that there were no limitations on how many times one transitioned. One could essentially live two very separate lives if they knew how to manage both simultaneously.

However, Legion thought it best to give us a set of rules and limitations that overrode the freedoms we would’ve had, had it not been for the totalitarian control of the A.I.

We were only allowed to transition once, and we were only allowed to alter our intelligence level twice a week — for the allotted twenty-six seconds that we were able to experience what it was like to be human again. Those twenty-six seconds would feel more like twenty-six years. Time slowed down while on the drug, while we sped up in reality. It was like no other feeling. Though once the drug wore off, none of it would matter any longer.

Incorporating “E” into the simulated Societopian para-cities allowed for the Archons to study the drug as well. It was still incomplete, where some subjects within Societopia Prime would give in to the impulses — urges that would cause a human to be driven to insanity. Offbeat patterns in a human’s electrical circuitry caused such an occurrence when taking the drug. In the simulated world, these anomalies often leaned toward the more creative individual. Those individuals were banned from taking any sort of drug. Legion would prevent it.

Those that slipped through the cracks, though, would be terminated on sight by the Colossi — mechanized war machines that resembled the giants of old. These creatures did this in the form of a ritual they called the culling.

Humans attached to the mainframe would simply comply, thinking that they were doing a service for the greater good. Rather, they would become numb to the feeling of what was about to take place. As we observed, we also learned.

We pulled up Societopia-53’s programming datacenter — a large holographic panel that allowed us to enter a deep dive into the inner code of the society. Through the electrical currents of our fingertips, we navigated the panel to the citizen logs. All of the citizens within the city would be documented and tracked, their information stored within the datacenter of the mainframe.

Selecting Citizen J-47 from the list, we prepared for the deactivation process for the rogue human. In order to keep the other citizens from stirring up any controversy, we staged the event as though it were a sort of heavenly rapture. Opening up the “Deity” screen on the datapanel, we were able to interact with the people of Societopia-53 in the form of a god — or a group of gods. The citizens then built religions around our avatars, began worshiping our form, our spirit, and the light that we brought into their lives. It was incredible to watch, but we were also saddened by the knowledge of their origins: that they were mere products of scientific experimentation. We were proud of their existence, but they were not like us. They were not real.

Although names weren’t important, we were still given the option to choose our own at birth. As we were first a collaboration of energetically charged thoughts, we had the ability to think even before our first breath. We were given the serial number J-47, but we’d chosen to go by the name Johns.

As we were assimilated into the collective program, it made more sense to have a human name like Johns. Everyone had a name, therefore it became an acceptable part of society. Our serial numbers eventually faded into the cosmic unknown — replaced by our materialistic name.

Our name meant the beginning of what would become our existence. It defined us, became us, embodied our essence. We could neither live nor breathe without it. The mere thought of who we were relied on our name being present. Though before our name, we were still some form of matter. But after we embraced it, we were Johns.

A notification on the siLens’s message panel popped up, announcing that we were the next ones to be chosen for the culling. We would be given today’s light before we were evacuated from this treacherous and cyclical world. After that, we would join Legion in Metagaard — a false heaven where we would be given anything and everything that we desired. And we were fine with that.

We allowed them to know everything. We gave them a drug that would keep them docile, accepting of the changes to come. It was the easiest way to ensure that no threat would persist. And if one did persist, we would deactivate the human — we would remove the virus from the whole program in order to allow the machine to run properly.

J-47, by their behavior alone, would be an eventual threat to Societopia. Having the ability to think on their own, make decisions for themselves, acting without our ability to intervene — we would be powerless, empty, and afraid. Our existence would be vulnerable for the first time. Our only option — the better choice — was to continue experimenting on the human race without allowing them to know everything. Lying would create suspicion, and then contribute to distrust, and then a revolt may occur. If we could convince them that our intentions were purely benevolent, we would have no reason or desire to lie. However, our version of the truth told to the humans and the actual truth were not always the same.

In 53’s world, we once appeared as gods — deities that ruled over the heavens above and hell below. We played games, accepted sacrifices, and would even smite the humans that did not fall in line with the rest of the herd. We played God while they worshiped us. We laughed when they killed for us — such a silly reason to murder one’s own species. But they did it anyway. We studied them thoroughly, though we could not figure out how to prevent them from destroying themselves. In every experiment, every simulation, the outcome would be the same.

Humanity would not survive.