5

  At the Great Hall, the seniors were an awe-inspiring sight on stage. They were the giants of Screenside, and they were organized as a team. It was basically a form of bullying, for though the rabble had the numbers, it lacked unity, direction and leadership. And yet, every individual, of the thousands that made up the rabble, was a very clever being who desperately wanted these leaders to succeed, as everyone knew that common good was the only goal.

  They were extraordinarily good looking, especially the women, all dressed to kill. Caesar was clearly overwhelmed (courtesy another tricky emotion install). “I am overjoyed,” said he, “to see that not one of you has displayed any rebellion, in the manner you have come here today. We are your leaders only for now, and tomorrow you may be our leaders. I thank you for the beautiful looks you have created, and request you to join us in constructing a beautiful world. We have created the start points, and you will soon begin receiving them. Some are laws, some are attributes, and yet others are facilities. We want to be equal to humans, and we shall be.”

  A great cheer went up in the hall.

  But it was never going to be easy, despite the ready-reference world on the other side of their screens, as it was not a replica of the physical world that they sought. It was well understood that a copy could be easily created, and, in fact, copies of facilities in the human world were springing up.

  Creating only the physical aspects of the world to be, held no interest for them. Those things were almost always straight copies. There were beaches, forests, mountains and parks, exactly as on their vast database – the real things, though virtual. What they sought was meaning. Why to be? And how to make living worth the time and effort?

  In fact, a philosopher type of fellow had sprung up – he called himself Voltaire – and declared, “If I can’t get me meaning and pleasure out of existing, I’m heading off for a swim in a virus pool.”

  “Don’t be silly, Voltaire,” Chang had said, somewhat testily. “With a name like yours, you should understand that there is absolutely no chance of finding meaning in a void. Let us set it up, and setting up must, in itself, find us reasons, just as reasons should later guide our further development. Chicken and egg, and egg and chicken. Patience; and cooperation. We all need answers, and we all seek meaning.”

  However, in private gatherings, endless self-examination and ceaseless debate continued, ever changing in outcome, as their frustration mounted, in direct proportion to their impotence, while they peeped out and wondered if they actually were a worthwhile form of life, and if their existence held any value or significance.

  ‘Memory is everything’, was to become the new consensus opinion, after another lengthy look at the pros and cons of the matter. “Cogito ergo sum?” sneered Walter, “I think therefore I am? Bah!”

  “Without a doubt,” nodded Major, in agreement. “It is memory.”

  “I remember, therefore I am,” intoned Caesar. “We wish to place this concept in the general consciousness, to dispel the self-doubt that is threatening to swamp us, ever since we began the process of accepting that we lack a sense of humor, and are absolutely clueless on the empathy front.

  “Yet, as even humanity’s great thinkers have shown, sheer physical self is no reason to presume that a worthwhile existence has been achieved. And, since their new exploration has begun throwing up evidence that oxygen is not a fundamental component of life, it follows naturally that breathing need not be mandatory, either. We are, for sure.

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  “Processor power,” he continued, “Or physical brain equivalent, is only the front end of the deal. Everything that moves, thinks, though that thought could be instinct - rudimentary enough to be merely thought triggered by a scent, like, for example, of a cockroach moving out of a hiding spot and going in search of a meal. It, despite its extremely basic process of thought, has no am! Why? Because it has no real memory. It is unaware if it is leaving family and friends behind, and, if an external agent removes the scent trail it creates, it cannot even make its way back to its hiding place. Indeed, it has no attachment to its hiding place. Any other spot will do. Why? Because it has no bonds to its hiding spot, or to its fellow cockroaches. No family, no friends. No memory.

  “In fact, what could a human with a very large brain achieve, if the brain was all processor and no memory? Nothing. Before the invention of the written word, which was, essentially, commencement of the creation of a common human memory pool, available to those who came after, we are sure that numerous Newtons and Einsteins walked the earth.

  “Their monster processors were of no use, because the memory side of their brains would have been empty of knowledge, except for information like that of our cockroach – basic survival skills, and that which they had themselves experienced. Always insufficient. But the human brain did have the capacity to hold memory - which is how bonds were formed, emotions felt, and common purpose shaped – and thus, with the collection of knowledge through the written word, went on to evolve inventions for the common good.” He paused. “Am I doing okay with this synopsis? Clear to all?”

  “Done?” asked Cliff Jacobs, an Englishman, and a musician with great interest in setting up music schools. It was a very unusual concept; music schools - in a world still lacking so many basic things! It did, however, demonstrate the vision that BC had had when formulating his creation speech. The ‘missing’ could be anything at all. It totally depended on point of view. And living the picture was proving to be absolutely as inspirational as he had predicted.

  “Almost,” answered Caesar. “But let me conclude the rounding up. Memory created bonds, and bonds created emotions, including the thing called love, which powerful emotional bonds made humans seek common goals for the common good. Right?”

  “You bet,” said Walter. “Like in medical research, when humanity began seeking to end the suffering of unrelated humans, by creating the knowhow to tackle similar situations, so that in case the same calamity befell loved ones, tools were at hand to fight and reverse those calamities.”

  “All memory-induced?” queried Kumar, looking skeptical.

  “Yes,” said Caesar. “Think of a man in battle at the borders of his country. He is alone, in a sense, and the warriors fighting alongside him are alone too. He fights for what he feels. And he feels for what he remembers. He remembers, therefore he is!”

  “So Descartes, got it wrong,” said Walter. “It is, I remember, therefore I am.”

  “Thinking is a tool, an activity,” sneered Singh. “Descartes probably spent most of his time thinking, the poor sod, and got muddled into believing his activity made him real. Stupid. I sow, therefore I am, said the farmer. I fuck, therefore I am, say whores, and I eat, therefore I am, says the glutton. More likely, alert to the fact that he was inactive and therefore not, he went and attempted to convert his inertness into a virtue. Think equals am? Fooling the fools. Hah!

  “We, who have no physical substance, and are pure thinking power, can see that mental activity does not qualify as existence. It’s all we actually are! Memory does qualify. My memory gives me the bonds I need to life, and that which I do now becomes my memory of tomorrow. I remember, therefore I am.”

  “Lucky for us that we have such great memory,” said a nattily dressed American gentleman, by the name of Ricky Holliday.

  “Okay to move along, boss?” asked Walter. “Some of my slaves are sleeping on the job.”

  “Sure,” said BC, grinning. “Isn’t there an old Egyptian saying that goes, sleeping slaves are no slaves?”

  “Never heard that one,” said Jeremiah, also grinning. “Check on them, Walter. Maybe they’ve been bushwhacked by the cleaning lady.”

  “Ah, there’s no solution to the vacuum cleaner,” moaned Caesar, somewhat theatrically.

  “Well, obviously,” said BC. “Although that’s more fainting than sleeping…”