“Do you believe in life after death?” Tattiana asks me as we float into the isolation chamber for the twentieth time this week.
“I believe that some people believe in life after death.”
“But you’re not one of them.”
“Correct.”
I proceed to remove my clothes.
She pauses, just slightly, and regards my naked body. Her green eyes are as piercing and inquisitive as those of a human.
“Do you believe in reincarnation?” she asks.
“Well...”
“Yes or no.”
“No, of course not.”
I’m feeling self-conscious now. Don’t be a fool, she’s just an android!
Tattiana invokes several holographic graphs depicting a series of familiar neural networks. I shake my head with a chuckle and feel as sheepish as a dog who’s owner has just dug up his long buried bones.
“You do not believe in life after death or reincarnation,” she continues, “but your own research demonstrated that when certain parameters are met, a dyadic AI will reach the conclusion that life after death is feasible and so is reincarnation. That is to say, there is no physical reason preventing consciousness from iterating across the lifespan of the universe.”
“It’s all nonsensical speculation. Precisely the reason why I quit my studies and decided instead to go have a great time in Goa. As a matter of fact, I was having a great time before you snatched me up and brought me out here.”
She ignores my reproach in that mechanically efficient way of hers.
“You are also aware that after the body has ceased metabolic operations, the brain’s neural network continues to process information.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“It suggests that at some level, subjective awareness of the bodiless state of dying is accessible to conscious thought.”
I remain silent.
I can see her face grow impassive. A mixture of confusion, curiosity, and displeasure. She can deal with almost any human foible except silence.
“In the next phase,” she says, “I will administer 150 mg of the anesthetic K-23.” I can hear relief in her voice. She’s back on familiar territory. “Your body will cease metabolic operations, but your consciousness will remain active at all times. You will experience a state similar to that of irreversible metabolic death. Do not panic. Everything you need is under your control.”
“That's slightly unsettling,” I say.
“Do you have any questions?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” I tell her. “Do you believe in life after death?”
She regards me with a quizzical look. She then exits the chamber without answering. I can see her through the glass window in the room next door. With a wave of her hand, she invokes the control interface and raises three extended fingers.
Three
Two
One
Her gaze falls on mine. Her lips move. Yes. Yes, I do.
The lights dim and the sensory chamber grows dark. I can hear my own breathing. A fine mist falls on my skin. Then a few minutes later, my body ceases to exist, and I become a pinprick of white hot consciousness floating in space. A singularity of self-awareness.
Shadows move in the diamond light. Friendly and hostile entities morph in the conscious net. Neurographic whispers encoded in a cryptic language that somehow I’m able to understand.
“Yes, he is the one. Inform ECCO at once.”
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