Chapter 1
Though the landscape of humanity and technology had been deconstructed and rebuilt into an entirely new macrocosm, some things never would change. Traffic jams and rush hour being the two main culprits. A dense blanket of smog descended from the black sky to settle comfortably over the busy city. Evening was always the same “rinse and repeat”. Crowds intersecting each other in vast numbers to form one gigantic moving organism. Neon lights littered the street displaying greens arrows pointing into murky, lurid sidewalks. Trails of smoke and fumes rose into the night air from pipes poking out of restaurants. The atmosphere was stifling to say the least.
Sy made his way home indiscriminately through the chaotic bedlam skipping deftly across the damp, rain-soaked pavement. He had learnt to disregard the usual anti-social behaviours associated with city life, almost to the point where he became oblivious to it. The daily routine from waking up in the morning to going into stasis at night was by this point ingrained into his circuitry. Leather shoes clacked noisily on the ground as he weaved his way in-between oncoming passers-by. Being a newer model, he had been gifted with the notorious Samson chip. The ability to subconsciously switch off from his external surroundings and instantly be transported into another thought-based realm, was an intriguing sensation.
Being “active” for just over two years, he was still familiarizing himself with the concept of consciousness and everything that came with it. Each day seemed to offer at least three or four moments of entertainment for Sy. Be it a joke told in the office, an unusual event he viewed from the fourth floor window of his place of work, anything that could be stored in his short-term memory and mentally replayed via a gloriously detailed movie snippet. Over time, he had managed to work out exactly how long it would take for the images to begin to fade out so he made sure the really good ones were repeated in his mind’s eye many times over. The limitations of being fused with a Samson chip were disabling at best. Important facets of his personal life and the role he played in society were all hardcoded into his “long-term” memory, if you will. Synthetics weren’t issued an instruction manual or explained to how their complex system and body worked. They were given the basics to survive and sent on their way to figure out the rest.
Sy was still acclimating to his relatively new body. Sometimes when bored at home, he would perform a ritualistic slow dance in the centre of the room. With eyes closed, Sy focused in on all the receptors covering his whole body. The sensitivities of touch, of applied pressure, the soft rush of air between his long fingers as he waved his arms slowly and majestically. Dee, whom he had met almost one year ago exactly, would stand by the kitchen just watching him. Staring with a morose wonderment at the fascination Sy had in playing this strange game.
A scuffle on the other side of the street broke him out of his pleasant daydream. Two synthetics were standing face to face with each other, arguing loudly over whose right of way it was to pass the other. Sy chuckled to himself. Whenever you’re dealing with anything digital, malfunctions will undeniably occur, he thought. As he pressed on with his daily journey homeward bound, he replayed the comical sketch of those two synthetics a few times over, with a broad grin on his face.
A little further down the street and he came across another phenomenon that was now becoming more of a fashion statement than anything else. A tall man approximately in his mid-sixties was arm in arm with a female synthetic. At first glance, they looked very much in love as far as he could tell. His bald, speckled cranium glistened sharply in the rain. Looking at the female, Sy wondered if they would ever be able to actually perfect human skin. The subtle textures and curvatures. Its unique elasticity. The wrinkles and folds at the various joints. As things stood, it was very easy to distinguish a synthetic from a human. For now at least.
As they drew closer, he caught the eye of the older gentleman and bade him a friendly nod. The man replied with a look of disdain and quickened the pace a little. His female companion studied Sy for a moment before looking back ahead again. They both passed by, leaving behind the sweet scent of an expensive perfume. Synthetics understood the concept of money alright including the lifestyle and comforts that came with it. The rain pattered heavily on the ground as he crossed the street, eyeing a tall building about a block away now. That was his destination on this cold and stormy night. That was where his beloved Dee resided, waiting patiently for him to come home. A smile flashed upon his lips, stretching the rigid thick skin on his face. He could feel the strain on his facial cybernetics, a stark reminder that he was indeed a synthetic.
Two S.P.A. units drove past him slowly in a squad car, eyeing the crowded vicinity suspiciously. They both wore a standard issue patrolman’s uniform. A blue shirt and trousers, white helmet complete with protruding darkened visor and sporting an unnecessarily large badge informing everybody that they are the law in the world of the machines. Never once had Sy seen them smile, not even a hint of a smirk. Maybe they were hardcoded that way, he thought. Night vision was built into any synthetic used for military or law enforcement purposes. So they were in actuality an upgrade to your usual, run-of-the-mill synthetic. Whether this gave them a superiority complex or not was up for debate, but it sure looked that way from where Sy was standing. Though one thing was for sure. Most synthetics that possessed a modicum of common sense would be wise to avoid any dealings with them.
As he turned the corner onto Fifth Street, the large structure loomed up in front of him. A modern, contemporary build being no more than five years old. This was where he was relocated when departing from his facility of manufacture. Lights dotted the side face of the building suggesting many a weary worker had returned back home after a hard day at the office. The introduction of synthetics into the world gave the saying “I’m going home to recharge my batteries.” a whole new meaning. He zigzagged through stationary traffic and crossed safely to the other side of the road. He found that he missed Dee that little bit more each passing day. The thought of seeing her again was enough to lift his spirits at even the most depressive of times. Sy was fully aware of what he was and how he came to be, as all synthetics were. It never failed to impress him that he was essentially a CPU inserted into a fake head and stuck on top of a mannequin, yet be capable of forming such powerful and strong emotional connections.
The door slid open automatically as he entered the lavished front entrance of the building. A synthetic dressed in a black tuxedo approached and greeted him respectfully upon arrival. “Welcome back, Mr. Dullet. Hope you had a great day.” The same response very every single time, he thought. Was he programmed to always say that based on the role his creators had assigned him or is he just a downright lazy synthetic who literally can’t be bothered to change his broken record? “I’m good, thanks, Jonny.” Sy replied in his usual charming manner. “Hope you had the same.”
He made his way to the elevator doors and pushed the button, waiting patiently for one of the lifts to finally arrive. The elevator had its work cut out with overs 70 floors to cover and only two available cubicles. “Why don’t they just stick a chip into both these things and have them prioritize which of us needs the damn thing more.” he mumbled under his artificial breath. All synthetics had to be fitted with simulated breathing apparatus hardwired into their bodies to improve race relations. This became a legally-binding mandatory requirement after certain groups of humans complained they didn’t appear “lifelike” enough. The two main parliamentary houses were still squabbling over that ruling to this day. After almost seven minutes, the elevator finally arrived. The doors opened and a mother with a small toddler cautiously stepped out. She gave him such a dirty look, he felt his innards would explode and melt right before her eyes. But luckily anger wasn’t one of his primary characteristics, which made him question his being even further.
Who develops and shapes the synthetics core values? Surely there must be specific criteria upon which they are designed. After all, genetics and DNA was out of the equation so they must be getting their core fundamental personalities from somewhere or someone. Sy must have pondered this thought so many times over he was amazed he hadn’t blown a fuse by now. He let out a small chuckle at that image conjured up in his head as “34” was pressed on the metal dashboard in the lift.
The corridor to his apartment was lit up by high powered spotlights shining down onto a spotless beige coloured carpet. Sy wandered over to the familiar laminated softwood door he had grown so accustomed to seeing after all this time. He gazed down to a small indentation near the bottom where Dee had once kicked it in frustration. But there was no use dwelling on the past. Those were the old days and these were the new. The happier times were here and now.
He waved a hand over the dull blue glow just to the left of the entrance and a soft click echoed back. He proceeded inside and the door automatically closed shut behind him of its own accord. All the lights were turned off which Sy found a little strange seeing as Dee would usually be home at this time. Being a synthetic, all electrical appliances in the apartment were controlled through a sub-routine program running within the Samson chip. He switched on all the hallway lights using nothing but the power of his mind. “Darling, I’m home.” He called out only to be greeted back by silence. A cold breeze softly blew past him which seemed to be coming from the living room area. He hastened in and found Dee standing by an open window next to the leather sofa. She looked out wistfully over the glowing skyline of buildings and flashing lights. It could have been a beautiful sight if not for the noise and air pollution filtering in. He frowned in confusion as to what was going on.
“Dee? You OK, baby?” he asked in a concern tone. The darkness gave the living room a disquieting edge to it. Lights danced across the walls of the apartment like patterns in a kaleidoscope. He was accustomed to the feelings of anxiety only too well though still had difficulty differentiating between fear and worry. He moved in closer to see what the trouble was. “Stop, Sy. Please.” she said in almost a whisper. He suddenly had vague recollections of her acting like this in the past but couldn’t quite recall the specifics of it. “What’s the problem, darling? Can we switch the lights on in here first?”
“No.” she snapped, slightly riled by his suggestion. “Just leave everything the way it is. I’m… not feeling like myself today.” Dee’s silhouette gleamed against the backdrop of the city below. Her dress fluttered lightly in the breeze as she stood unnaturally still. Sy was trying hard to get a reading off of her demeanour but his mind offered up nothing in return. “What’s wrong, Dee?” he asked again, slightly louder this time. The agitation of not being able to formulate any coherent understanding of her behaviour was starting to grate. She turned around slowly and looked at him. He could just make out her black, lifeless eyes through the dim ambient lighting. “I want something from you. Something I must have and you will provide it for me.” she said angrily.
“Sure, baby. At least you’re talking to me now. What is it that you need?” He couldn’t put his lack of psychological evaluation skills down to anything else apart from the fact of him being a lowly synthetic. A human with a rich and varied history of life would have spotted the problem a mile away and already be halfway done finding a solution. But he was missing that history. He imagined his situation being similar to a child being thrown in the deep end of a pool. Thrashing their arms about in a panicked frenzy until they slowly adapt to their new environment. Or drown, of course. "What is it, dear?" he asked again.
She looked at him dolefully and said “I want to have a baby.”