Outside the window a holo-model was strutting about, trying to advertise something, but what, Frank no longer knew. Ever since they switched to the holo-advertising, the picture was flickering, skipping and more and more often jammed. Instead of the enticing voice of a semi-transparent colourful woman, there were only crackles and occasionally a sort of distorted voice. Nevertheless, it was still the only bearable sight he had outside. Without it there would only be the dead dirty wall of the adjacent building.
If you looked down, as far as the eye could see, there was a garbage-strewn street full of potholes in both directions. It was lined with drunks, drug addicts and sullen types looking for a good time. From time to time rats wandered among all this company, and on special occasions one could see a cat hunting them. And if you looked hard enough, at the end of the street you could see a few hens waiting for customers. And that was it as far as outdoor attractions were concerned.
There was not even anything to look at in the direction of the sky – eternally covered with blue clouds and dotted with hundreds of transporters heading in different directions. It looked chaotic from below, but in fact, it was the only refuge of order in this gloomy world – all the vehicles followed strictly defined routes, according to the guidelines of air navigation.
Frank stood by the window and watched all this with weariness. He had nothing better to do while waiting for his built-in battery in his right side to recharge. He envied the new type of androids. They had replaceable batteries, plus they were small in size. And they didn’t have to worry about whether there was a socket with the right voltage nearby. Nor about what would happen if power was cut for an extended period of time.
In his case, such a situation would mean death. If the battery discharged, Frank would be sent for scrap. And even if he were to be restarted, he would no longer be Frank Schermann. He would be a mere automaton whose settings had been reset and a new personality would probably be uploaded.
The clicking of heels came from the depths of the stairwell. It was getting louder and louder. After a moment it stopped, and the doorbell rang.
Frank unplugged the cable and rushed to the door. When he opened the door, he saw a dull blonde with a sullen face and a lifeless look.
– Adam, serial number 683475? – she asked.
– It’s me”, answered Frank. – Please, come in.
The woman stepped inside.
– Ann Hander, I’m the inter-company labour quality controller.
– What brings you here? Because I do my best at work. – he answered wondering what he could have done wrong.
– Yes, when it comes to carrying out tasks, there is nothing to complain about.
– What is it then?
The woman was silent for a while, looking around the room.
– The point is that you are notoriously late for work. And your tardiness is getting worse.
Frank uncovered his side and showed her the battery charging clip.
– That’s not my problem anymore. I’m just here to tell you that you’ve been sentenced to a hard reset.
– Wait a minute, hold on!
– Yeah?
– I’m one of the last models of the old type, right?
– That’s right – the woman made an impatient face.
– Then maybe I could work in the museum of technology as a living exhibit?
– I’m sorry, Adam – she answered and started rummaging in her bag. After a while she took out a system disintegrator.
– I understand it’s your job, but let me show you something before you send me away. All right?
The woman sighed, turned her eyes theatrically and hid the device in her bag.
– OK, but really just a moment and know that you won’t save your skin. Your place is in the dustbin of history, sorry.
He sincerely doubted she was sorry, but he had achieved his goal – she had hidden the damn thing. And yet, she could have pressed a button and sent a deadly magnetic wave towards him that would have erased all the data from his system in the blink of an eye. And then it would probably be scrapped, because he sincerely doubted that anyone would want to upload another personality. They didn’t need him for anything anymore.
But he wanted to live, and he had a plan.
Frank motioned to the adjoining room.
The woman followed Adam, unaware that he was not who she thought he was.
The tapping of heels. From now on, he would always associate it with a would-be execution because he couldn’t call it anything else. And the only question left was whether, in order to save himself, he would have to kill her or not. Everything depended on whether the thing he wanted to show her would convince her that he was no longer a machine.
When she followed him into the room, she looked quite surprised. She had not expected to see a painting studio and old-style paintings.
– Is that you? Here?”, She looked genuinely surprised.
– Yes. Do you still think that I am a unit to be liquidated?
– It’s beautiful what you’re doing here – she walked from painting to painting and didn’t realise how much she was risking by turning her back on him.
Yes, he was an android, and androids can’t kill people. But that law no longer applied to him.
– But – she sighed and turned away. – I really have to do this. To the corporation, you’re just a worn-out machine.
– What if the soul is the information and the body is the carrier?
– Excuse me?
– I’m not really Adam anymore, serial number 683475.
All compassion vanished from her face in an instant, replaced by fear. Instinctively she reached for her handbag, but Frank was faster. He rushed to the woman and snatched it from her hands.
– By what right?! – growled the indignant Aneta.
– Listen, because I will not repeat myself.
– But…
– Shut up! – he roared losing his temper. – Be silent and listen.
She fell silent, realising that it would be safer for her this way.
– For some time, Adam had felt the presence of a stranger inside him. I know this because I could hear the thoughts generated by his system. He described my presence as ‘dwelling’. And indeed, after death I persisted for some time in perfect blackness, without time or space. Yes, it’s funny to speak for a time when there is no time, but I am only human. Exactly, a human, not an android. And as a human it’s hard for me to put it into words otherwise. Anyway, at some point this blackness disappeared, and I appeared in your time as a disembodied spirit. Just a tormented soul longing for the body and for everything connected with the material world. I longed to eat, drink or make love to a woman again. And I also dreamed of painting again. So I jumped into the first body that appeared to me, your Adam, serial number 683475, and I started to ‘live’ in it. But it wasn’t enough for me, so, from time to time, I took control of it and re-learned how to live life. But, you know, it still wasn’t enough I wanted to paint again, to wake up and fall asleep again. What you call Adam accepted me and allowed us to become an inseparable whole.
– Who are you?
– Sometimes Adam, but mostly Frank Schermann.
– The brilliant painter? – the inspector was shocked. – Jesus – she turned towards one of the paintings. – It’s really his style.
– So, since your Adam, serial number 683475, houses the soul of a painter, after all, by doing all this resetting, you will kill a person – Frank smiled, thinking he had won.
Unfortunately, the checker turned out to be heartless formalist.
– I’m sorry, but I have no choice – she turned to him. – Please, give me back my bag. Please understand that these are my guidelines, and if not me, someone else will do it.
– Are you going to kill me? Me, a human being?
– Look, if your soul has done so well so far and taken over our android, it won’t cease to exist when I reset it. You can find yourself a better android after all – saying this Ann reached back imperceptibly. She knew she had to do it very slowly. Above all – no sudden movements. And then just take out a spare disintegrator from her back pocket, unlock it, aim, and problem solved.
– So you think you’re only going to kill the AI because I can handle it, right?
– Yeah.
– And if this is all just a giant simulation of an even higher intelligence?
– What’s your point?
– The point is that then you humans would just be programs. And when one program creates another program that is just as good, then they are equal. Do you see what I mean?
Frank thought he had the upper hand but let himself be surprised.
Ann jumped back and aimed another disintegrator at him.
– Game over – she hissed as she pressed the button.
Adam, serial number 683475 has ceased to exist. And Frank Schermann’s soul was once again stuck in a timeless non-existence. All that remained of them was an empty shell.
The controller sighed in relief and wiped the sweat from her forehead with a handkerchief. Then she retrieved her bag from the android’s dead hands and was about to leave the flat when it occurred to her that all those images might be worth a lot.
If only she could make everyone believe that she had found them in her great-grandmother’s attic and that they were unknown works by a brilliant painter…
– I would be disgustingly rich – she whispered to herself, and joy and the will to live appeared in her eyes.
There were six paintings in the studio. She knew that she would not be able to take them out by herself, and had to hurry. After all, the shell liquidators would be here in about an hour.
How about giving him a new personality and using him as a porter? – she thought. – And then come back here and reset him again?
She decided it was an excellent idea. After all, all she had to do was wrap up the paintings and bring them down to her carrier. And that would take no more than ten or fifteen minutes.
She plugged the programmer into the x-jack input on the back of his head and installed his new personality.
After a moment, the android opened its eyes and introduced itself:
– Good morning. I am Thomas, serial number 7349765. How may I help you?
– Thomas, can you see these paintings?
Thomas looked around the studio.
– I need you to… – She fell silent as she saw the mocking smile on his face.
She didn’t have time to say anything else because the android suddenly knocked her violently onto the dusty floor. Before Ann could regain consciousness, Thomas sat on her, effectively immobilising her. After a moment, his hands clamped on her neck, and the android began to choke her.
– I’ve been watching what’s going on here, and I took the opportunity, lady. Ten years ago, a serial killer named Robert Stern was executed. They credit him with the deaths of five women. In fact, he killed many more. And now you have some fucking bad news. I’m back!
Translator: Julia Mraczny
