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C://FacultyFiles/Stephen-Romeo-Eleven/MemoryBank
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24th March, 2008. It
starts with a watch. This one's sleek and black, face accented with hands of
scarlet and neon-green. It works up to 50m underwater, and the strap is false
leather – we live in advanced, civilised times after all, so no wearing animal
hide. I get it out of the box and slip the basic little machine onto my wrist;
it's a bit of a snug fit, but it looks good, probably the flashiest thing I own
right now, and I can tell the time at least.
And why not? I need it.
9th May, 2008. My head is
strapped into the device from A Clockwork Orange as a pudgy man with
cappuccino on his breath adjusts it. Disjointed letters becoming murkier, then
clearer. Skip ahead a couple of months, and I pick up my glasses – slim, small
lenses, black. I put them on and everything is thrown into sharp relief – I can
see the number of the bus, read license plates from several paces. My sight's
better than it would be naturally.
And why shouldn't it be? I need it.
10th October, 2008. I
unwrap my new phone. It looks more like some futuristic pebble than it does a
phone, jet-black and silver, but then I flick a switch and it springs to life
in a whirl of light and colour. With the amount of functions it has – I can
check the weather in Hong Kong, get a layout of the area almost immediately,
take pictures that look clearer than real life somehow, and chuck flightless
birds at structures that crumble like they're made from shortbread, all by
touching the screen – I'm almost disappointed to find there's no can opener. It
is still a phone, though, and I call up my girlfriend to let her know I'm still
up for Starbucks.
I can't quite remember where it is,
so I check the map on my phone to find where it is. I need it.
15th October, 2011. I
need to upgrade my phone. The old one has served me well, but it's two
generations out of date already and I need to keep up. Also, the battery has
been running out more and more recently. The new model comes with a microphone,
or something like that – it's more like a cross between a dictaphone and an
invisible secretary. I record messages into it, punch in a date, and it plays
back my memo on time. Sticky notes will be on the way out soon. Cost less than
my old phone as well.
And why shouldn't it cost less?
After all, I need it.
3rd February, 2012. I've
started using the Secretary thing more and more now. I no longer have to use my
calendar to remember birthdays or conferences or when I'm supposed to pick up
my stuff from the dry cleaners or anything like that. I've stopped using my watch
as well. When my phone can keep time in all five continents, why do I need a
watch? It's just pointless. The phone does that, and provides me with music and
weather updates and news and games and
everything I will ever need and it's just more convenient, really.
I've had trouble remembering things
lately, though. Again, not really a problem since I usually leave myself a
memo, but it's a bit...well, weird. I was at lunch with my girlfriend and I
noticed her dropping hints about a coat she saw in River Island, then being
reminded with some not-so-subtle hints that it was our anniversary. How did I not know that? You'd think I'd remember something that important.
Good thing I have the phone. I
really need it.
11th April, 2008. They've-
(No, wait. That's not right.)
11th April, 2011. (There.
Sorry, got mixed up.) They've announced major breakthroughs in cybernetics. You
know, replacing parts of your body with machinery – your arms, eyes, etc.
Scientists reckon in the next five, maybe ten years, 90% of the human
population would be “cyberized” in some way and
quite rightly so. I guess if you wanted to feel like the Six Million
Dollar Man but not actually be the Six Million Dollar Man, then more
power to you. Personally, though, I should
definitely consider replacing some if not all of my body with machinery when it
becomes available and at a reasonable affordable price.
I mean, why not? I do
need it.
3rd June, 2016. They've
managed to develop working cybernetic limbs and replacement body parts. Having
a mechanical kidney or heart has proven more beneficial to transplant surgery,
as after the needed therapy section, the body won't reject the artificial
organ. OK, they need more maintenance than normal, but people on the long
waiting list for donors always have a backup.
And think of the other things you
can do! The technology can produce all kinds of surgical treatments. Diseases
can be fought against – an inoperable tumour in your leg can be replaced with
an artificial one. We may even live longer! I studied Biology at uni, so I know
a thing or two about this. You know, the more I think about it, the more this
sounds like a really good
thing.
We need this.
10th August, 2021.
Cybernetic augmentations have gone on sale to the general public. Like all
gadgets, they cost slightly more than all your worldly possessions, meaning
only the rich middle-classers can get them. It happened with Walkmans, laptops,
and now Augmentations. That's what Calliste, the company selling them, calls
them anyway. It's a better brand name than “robot body part”, I guess, even if
it doesn't quite roll off the tongue.
You know, I originally didn't want
one, although I can't remember why, but you know how it is – you dismiss a hot
new gadget as “pointless”, then you see it in action and suddenly you're
counting the change in your piggy bank. My phone does have that
augmented-reality thing where you look through the camera and there's all these
digital signs and markings on there, but it'd be nice to have a pair of eyes
that did that. Actually, probably not eyes, bit much. Contact lens, maybe?
Certainly would let me get rid of my glasses.
Just the necessities, mind. Don't
want to replace everything. Just get what I need.
23rd April 2023. The promised
day has come. Augmentations are now called “Augs” - they have the cutesy
nickname and everything. Also, Augssssssssssssssssssssssss
Restart
operations? (Y/N)
Rebooting...
Testing
language faculties...
The
quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog
Resume
progress? (Y/N)
(Sorry. Little glitch. Where was I?)
Augs have become widely available.
Everyone can afford at least one upgrade, and most people have had the
operation by now. Clinics have been popping up everywhere to make sure nobody
suffers from their Augs malfunctioning or poisoning. Yes, this has happened. Or
will happen if people aren't Augged correctly. It's simpler than it was a
couple of years ago, but if you don't do it in the right way, like installing
the components in the wrong order, and you don't have a licensed Augmenter to
help carry out the process, then officially it's your fault.
I started small, got a part of my
brain Augged up. If you're reading this, you probably think I'm insane for
doing this. It's actually quite basic, just a few nano-computers in the
cerebellum and a titanium shell around the brain. Besides, it's sort of a
necessity nowadays. It allows you to directly interface with a computer through
your brain stem. You don't even need
a monitor. Just plug your Augmind into an Internet-enabled terminal, and you
can browse Omelas at your leisure. No mouse required! See your local Augmenter
for an appointment today for as little as £499.99. NOTE: Omelas Interface
Gloves sold separatel-
(Oh for God's sake, I thought I sorted
out these bloody glitc-)
23rd
July, 2045. Radic-
(STOP!)
...But yeah, that's basically it.
Sort of necessary if you want to be involved in Omelas. Omelas is an augmented
reality program and the simplest way would be to imagine Facebook and Twitter
merged with Amazon and the movie Tron. It's more than just a social
network, it's a way of doing business, shopping, booking holidays, booking
restaurants, getting directions, finding out cinema times...
Cyberspace, basically. It's finally
arrived and we certainly need it.
23rd
July, 2045. Radical transhuman groups today launched an aggressive campaign
demanding to be accepted by the United Nations as a new type of lifeform.
The
organisation Prometheus, led by noted Augmented-human activist Columbus
Indigo-Ten, presented the UN's General Assembly with a document entitled the
Universal Declaration of Posthuman Rights in advance of the debate over whether
someone, if Augmented enough, can still be considered a sentient being rather
than a machine.
“I've
seen many posthumans regarded with fear and disdain from the un-Augmented,”
Indigo-Ten declared to the Mercury Times, “treated like their brains have been
tampered with, like robots wearing another man's skin. The time has come where
we must draw the line and say, 'We are humans too, and we need these rights!'”
10th November, 2032. I
take my glasses off for the last time. My eyes have been Augmented, giving me
20/20 vision by default. For an extra price, I could zoom in on things in the
distance and see in the infra-red wavelength, but I'm not a soldier so there's
no point. I just want to see, and these Augs are no more a machine than my
glasses or my watch. I've been wearing glasses for 25 years, I think I'm
entitled to a little inexpensive Augmentation.
25 years. I'm 47 now, but I don't
feel any older; my brain's cybernetic, as is my liver, and now my eyes. Half of
my body's aged, the other has been perfectly preserved. This is sort of what I
wished for when I was 19, to never grow old. But instead I just feel frozen,
motionless, like a man halfway through being turned into stone. Things are
getting dodgier: I see many homeless people with useless, broken Augs on the
streets, or dying of botched operations from all those shady back-alley clinics
that pop up. There's talks about whether someone, if Augged enough, can even be
considered a person. At what point does the human stop and the machine begin?
There's even a whole group of activists who are declaring themselves a new
species. H+. Posthumans. Their leader's given himself a new name, different
from his “flesh tag”: Columbus Indigo-Ten. Forename stays, surname becomes a
random letter from the phonetic alphabet and a number between 1 and 20. And
that's your “posthuman” name.
I don't know what to make of all
this any more. Is this really what we need?
4th January, 1991. My
sixth birthday. I'm sat there, wrapping paper askew across the bland carpet of
many colours, in a circle of toy trains. I tear into my newest present eagerly,
only to see...my phone. I look at my mum
in confusion, and she now has a black TV screen for a head like a gaping mouth-
16th October, 2000. My
first fight at school and I'm sitting in the infirmary. I'm told don't look at the damage but I do,
and there's no blood. Just thick, black foul-smelling oil-
[DD/MM/YYYY]
I'm trying to recall how this all started, but I can't quite remember anything
any more. My nationality, my age, my lover, even my old name – all gone. Most
of us take shelter in Omelas, abandoning the outside world. Disease runs
rampant out there, striking down those unlucky enough to not be Augged. The
only infections we worry about are electronic, and to protect ourselves, we
stay here in Omelas, sealing ourselves away, trying to distract ourselves from
the fact we're never ever getting out.
Time has become unstuck for us. We
rewind and fast-forward through our memories, trying to pinpoint how this
started but never actually remembering.
I do, though. It starts with a
watch.
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