Mindscan

Epilogue

Oh, my God!

“What?”

Oh, my God! Oh, Christ…

I hadn’t heard a voice in my head like this for over a century. I’d thought they were gone for good.

I don’t believe this!

“Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?”

I know they said it might be strange, but—but…

“But what? Who is this? Jake? Is this another Jake?”

What the—hello? Who’s that?

“It’s me, Jake Sullivan.”

What? I’m Jake Sullivan.

“So am I.”

Where are you?

“Lowellville.”

Lowellville?

“Yes. You know: the largest settlement on Mars.”

Mars? We don’t have any settlements on Mars…

“Of course we do, for thirty years now. I moved here over a decade ago.”

But … oh. Ah. What year is this?

“It’s 2147.”

Twenty-one forty seven? You’re pulling my leg. It’s 2045.

“No. You’re a century out of date.”

But … oh. Really?

“Yes.”

Why’d you go to Mars?

“The same reason so many people came to North America from Europe ages ago. The freedom to practice our own brand of humanity. Mars is a catch-all for those who march to a different drummer. We were being denied our identity down on Earth. We took it all the way to the Supreme Court in the U.S., but lost. And so…”

And so, Mars.

“Exactly. We’re in a lovely community here. Lots of multiple marriages, lots of gay marriages, and lots of uploads. Under Martian law—created by those of us who live here, of course—all forms of marriage are legal, and out in the open. There’s a family three doors down that consists of a human woman and a male chimpanzee who was genetically modified to have a bigger brain. We play bridge with them once a week.”

I shrugged, although there was no way the other me could know I was doing that. “If you can’t change the old constitution, go somewhere fresh and write a new one.”

Ah. That’s … wow. My, that’s something, isn’t it?

“It is indeed.”

I—Mars; wow. But, hey, wait! I’m not on Mars, and yet there’s no time lag.

“Yeah, I encountered this before when one of us was on the moon. Whenever a new me boots up, it seems to become quantally entangled with this me; quantum communication is instantaneous, no matter how far apart we are.”

And we’re very far apart.

“What do you mean?”

Akiko Uchiyama said she was sending me to 47 Ursa Majoris.

“And where’s that?”

Ninety light-years from Earth.

“Light-years! What are you talking about?”

She said she was sending me—you know, transmitting a copy of my Mindscan—to one of the worlds they were studying with the big SETI telescope on the moon’s farside.

“Jesus. And you agreed?”

They, ah, didn’t actually offer me any choice. But that must be where I am. And it’s incredible! The sun—the star here—looks gigantic. It covers maybe an eighth of the sky.

“And you think it’s still 2045? Is that when you were … were transmitted?”

Yes. But Akiko said she wasn’t just sending me; she was also sending instructions for building a robot body for me.

“And are you instantiated in that body?”

Yes. It doesn’t look quite right—maybe they had a hard time making some of the parts—and the colors! I have no idea if they’re right, but I can see so many colors now! But, yes, I’ve got a humanoid body. Can’t see my own face, of course…

“So there’s intelligent life on this other world? What’s it look like?”

I haven’t seen it yet. I’m in a room that seems to have been grown, like it’s made out of coral. But there’s a large window, and I can see outside. The giant sun is a color I don’t know what to call. And there are clouds that corkscrew up vertically. And—oh, something’s flying by! Not a bird; more like a manta ray. But…

“But no intelligent aliens yet?”

Not yet. They must be here, though. Somebody built this body for me, after all.

“If you really are—my God—ninety light-years away, then the aliens took twelve years to reinstantiate you after receiving the transmission.”

It might have taken them that long to figure out how to build the artificial body, or to decide that it was a good idea to resurrect me.

“I suppose.”

Can you contact Dr. Smythe? He’ll want to know…

“Who?”

Gabriel Smythe.

“That rings a vague bell…”

He’s with Immortex. The head psychologist, I think.

“Oh, right. Him. If he hasn’t uploaded, he must be dead by now; I’ll see if I can find out.”

Thanks. I’m supposed to try to send a radio signal back; I’ll have to ask the natives about that. Proof of concept: Akiko and Smythe wanted to show that human consciousness could be transmitted, that … that ambassadorscould be sent to other worlds at the speed of light.

“Are you going to send the radio signal?”

If the natives here—whoever they are—let me, sure. But it’ll be ninety years before it’ll get back to… what the heck do you call it? Sol system, no?

“I guess. So, tell me: what else can you see?”

Man, this is weird…

“Jake?”

Sorry. It’s a lot to absorb at once. Connecting with you; full-color vision; where I am; the passage of time.

“What else can you see?”

Vegetation—I guess that’s what it is. Like umbrellas turned inside out.

“Yes. And?”

Some vehicle going by, shaped like a pumpkin seed. There’s something alive inside, under a transparent canopy…

“My God! An alien! What’s it look like?”

“Dark, bulky, and—damn, it’s gone.”

“Wow. An actual alien…”

Are you going to tell people? Tell humanity that you’re in contact with a distant world?

“I—I don’t know. Who would believe me? They’d say it was a hallucination. I’ve got nothing to show them, and any confirming signal you send won’t get here for the better part of a century.”

I suppose. Too bad. I’ve a feeling this is going to get interesting.

“There is one person I can share it all with.”

One’s better than none. Who?

“Karen Bessarian. You actually met her. She was the old woman we spoke to at the Immortex sales pitch.”

That was Karen Bessarian, the writer?

“Yes. And she’s still writing. In fact, she’s back to writing DinoWorld novels—the characters went public domain thirty years ago, but readers recognize that Karen is their creator, and the books she’s doing about them now are selling better than the originals.”

Good for her. But what’s happening with us? How’s the family business?

“Fine. They even brew Old Sully’s here on Mars now.”

Great! What else? Are we married?

“I am, yes.”

Oooh, I know! To Rebecca Chong, right? I knew that eventually—

I smiled. “No, not to Rebecca. She’s been dead for over fifty years, and, um, she didn’t think much of uploads.”

Ah, well, then I guess I don’t know who we—

“It’s Karen,” I said simply. “Karen Bessarian and I are married. The first Mindscans ever to tie the knot.”

“Her? But she’s so old! I never would have thought…

“Yes, her. But we can talk about that later. Tell me more of what you’re seeing.”

I must be under some sort of observation; I can’t imagine they’d activate me otherwise. But so far, there’s no sign of the natives here, except that vehicle that went speeding by the window. The room is big, and it has something that must be a door, but it’s almost twice as high as I am.

“Any other clues about the aliens?”

Well, there are markings on the walls. Spirals, circles. Writing, I suppose. God knows what it says. There’s an elevated work surface in the room, but nothing that looks like a chair.

“Sitting is overrated.”

Yeah, perhaps. I’m standing myself. It’s all very—the door! The door is opening, crumpling aside like an accordion, and—

“Yes? Yes? What do you see?”

Hello? Hello! Um, my name is Jake. Jake Sullivan.

“What do you see? What do they look like?”

I guess we’ll have to learn each other’s language, eh? That’s okay…

“Jake! What do they look like?”

We’re going to have some interesting times together, I can see that…

“Jake? Jake?”

Like I said, my name is Jake, and I guess I’m here to tell you a little bit about what it means to be human.

There was a pause, presumably while the other me thought things that weren’t articulated in words, then:

But, you know, I’m in contact with somebody else, and I think he knows even more about being human than I do. Let’s see what he has to say…