Chapter 2 the cave
Responding to stimuli is not necessarily a sign of sentience. It can be a sign of life, but even that can be suspect. Casual observers miss things. Even trained observers miss things, or they observe things and infer incorrectly. For example, Fixit knew all too well that there are non- organic molecules that can replicate, but that doesn’t mean they’re living. Even if one infers correctly, it is frequently impossible to validate sentience with any degree of precision. Fetuses have been observed pulling away from an instrument of death, as if they knew what was coming, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they were aware of impending doom. Sensing without eyes is impressive, though. Tactile and auditory might explain unexpected responses, as disturbances in the amniotic fluid may send out tiny pressure waves, carrying echoes of impending danger. Ever since quantum physicist started trying to make sense of things, they’ve complicated matters by adding the observer effect. It is true that the observer has a well defined role in outcomes. If it were just a procedure where no eyes were witnessing the resistance, the death might be over fairly quick. Even if there were eyes on, there would be those who would simply see resistance as a challenge, and increase determination to ‘get the little bugger.’ But if the sentience observing the event was also Force sensitive, and philosophically programmed to preserve life, there might be a hesitation. What complicates the matter even further is a particle could be considered equal to an observer, so could a mechanical measuring device, or a Droid, a cat, or, as in this case, a blind fetus counted as an observer. One that seemed quite determined to avoid the instrument of its death. Is this the moment where reality divides into two separate, but measurably different Universes, per the theory?
“Is there a problem, Fixit?”
“No, Admiral,” Fixit responded.
“Then can we get this over with?”
“Yes, Admiral,” Fixit responded. Still, it hesitated, considering the problem from a number of ethical positions.
“Do you wish to have children in the future?”
The Admiral reflected. Absolutely not, was what she wanted to say, but she bit her tongue. She knew that the Emperor was grooming her for something bigger than her, but did that include children? Were the constant jokes of pairing her with someone real? Or worse, was he thinking of breeding with her himself? She pushed down on her reaction, remembering all the unwanted touching, both physical and with the Force. The scars of psychic manipulations and the Emperor’s lusting eyes left a coating of invisible drool and sweat that never seem to wash off and frequently invaded her dreams like oily tentacles of some subsurface, aquatic creature. She hoped the medical Droid didn’t record a blip in her biometrics as anything significant. Of course it noticed, but it probably simply deduced that she was struggling with a life decision. Her exit plan did not allow for offspring at this time. Children were a liability. But if her exit strategy failed, she would still need to be useful to the Emperor. It was best to leave opportunity open.
“Perhaps. Why?”
“The implantation is in an anatomically delicate position and the surgery could affect future reproductive potential,” Fixit lied.
“I would like to proceed with a more precise, but time consuming method of extraction. It will be necessary to administer a more potent sedative.”
The Admiral was not happy.
“I don’t want to be out more than an hour.”
“The entire procedure should only take seventeen minutes, twelve seconds,” Fixit responded.
The Admiral consented. An arm unfolded from the cylindrical body of the droid, fluid filled the syringe, a needle extended, and it was placed in the hip. One milliliter of the intramuscular injection was all it took, as the Admiral had already been given something to help her relax.
♫♪►
“You know,” Preston reflected out loud as he scrolled through the human anatomy text.
“When I consider the cave analogy we discussed earlier, coupled with quantum mechanics, it seems that sentient life is a procession of endless caves. An endless progression of waking to different realities.”
Preston was standing center of the main cavern, which served as the primary living space. It was Spartan, to say the least, brancing off into three tunnels, one of which led outside, and another led to his bedroom, but what he was unaware of is that it was more Spartan than he could perceive. The Halo device, a simple silver band worn like a crown, rested on his head, a series of diodes blinking various colors at different rates which indicated neural activity of the subject, as well as wireless reception and transmission rates.
“What is your evidence?” Fixit asked, viewing his own internal vision, which consisted of a diagnostic flow chart of just about everything that could be measured in real time.
“Well, consider the womb. It’s kind of a cave and the fetus is attached to the wall, chained by the umbilical cord,” Preston offered.
“Very astute,” Fixit said.
“After birth, I lived with my parents in a cave, even slept in a pod, an egg shape baby cave. To come train with you, I was transported via a ship, which is sort of like a mobile cave. Then I arrived here, and well, you live in a cave, so I have just traded one cave for another,” Preston said.
Fixit didn’t respond. His primary sensor maintained its fixated position, the blueness of the sensor penetrating. He saw the cave as it was as well as how Preston perceived it, partly because he was maintaining Preston’s illusion of something more ‘homey,’ to meet his expectations. Preston noted the Droid’s gaze and wondered if Fixit had a preferred filter for interpreting the incoming data of the world, even entertained what it would be like seeing the world from a Droid’s perspective. Three dimensional acoustical maps were certainly more precise in measuring the external world than visual information was. Thermal imaging could also be rather revealing.
“Do babies dream?” Preston asked.
“Do you dream?” Fixit asked.
“I’m no longer a baby,” Preston responded.
“Do you remember being a baby?” Fixit asked, trying not to laugh at the 7 year old. The child was still a baby, as far as the Droid was concerned, but then, even adult humans seemed like children to him.
“I had a very pleasant childhood,” Preston recalled. Saying so not only brought to mind how much love he felt from his parents, but also from all the ‘teachers’ who had spent time with him. One particular favorite was Mace Windu. He had been having conversations with Mace for nearly a week before his parents realized it might not be just an imaginary friend.
“You were a very happy baby,” Fixit agreed. Fixit activated his holographic projector and displayed three dimensionals images of a sleeping Preston.
“Notice the eye movement. It’s called REM. That is an indication that you were dreaming. You also smiled randomly, as if responding to dream content. Occasionally, you would laugh out loud.”
“Internal stimuli could also be a sign of mental illness,” Preston said.
“Dreaming is not a form of mental illness,” Fixit said.
“No, but talking to folks who aren’t there could be,” Prestion argued.
“We are back to that, again. True enough, responding to internal stimuli could be evidence of hallucinations, however, there are no neural artifacts that would indicate a biological diagnosis for mental illness,” Fixit said.
“One can have a diagnosis for mental illness without biological evidence, or without genetic predispositions,” Preston pointed out.
“Very astute,” Fixit agreed. Fixit could observe Preston from any sensor in the room but decided to roll closer. It was a behavior that humans generally accepted as meaningful. Genetically Preston was obviously mixed, but his appearance was predominantly Asian. The black hair was dominant. The eyes were light gray, which was an anomaly.
“What are you getting at?”
“I believe I might have a mental illness,” Preston pointed out.
“Present your evidence,” Fixit said.
“I’m content,” Preston offered.
The sound from Fixit could have been construed as a laugh or a cough, depending on perspective.
“Your kind seems to be more discontent than most species, but the fact that you are content could be a sign of being well adjusted and acclimated to life. Contentment also suggests a high degree of integration of multiple educational tracks.”
Preston considered this.
“But I was content even when I was with my parents,” Preston argued.
“Further, when I was told I would be leaving to train in the ways of the Force, I was not perturbed by the thought of leaving my family. Shouldn’t I have been more emotional?”
“I think you should stop ‘shoulding’ on yourself,” Fixit said.
“Ha ha,” Preston grimaced.
“Preston, you were not perturbed because there was no reason to be. Both your parents and your teachers prepared you for this eventuality. Additionally, with your ability to remote view, or astral travel, as you prefer, you have direct knowledge to the fact that no matter how much distance in space-time you are from a loved one, you are always with them. Most people have to rely on faith that that is true,” Fixit said.
“But don’t you think it’s odd that, out of all the places I travel to when I meditate, all the souls I interact with, I never visit my parents?” Preston said.
“I don’t even miss them. Doesn’t that mean something?”
“Probably doesn’t mean what you think it means,” Fixit said.
“Next you will be telling me your out-of-body experiences are further evidence of mental illness.”
“Though out of body experiences don’t concern me, any cursory glance at casual and medical literature is very clear that this experience denotes a dissociative state, usually brought about by trauma” Preston said, preparing to recite a literature review.
“Do you feel disconnected from life?”
Preston blinked. He had expected a more scientific approach, as opposed to the subjective tract provided.
“Again, I feel content. In fact, I feel exceedingly connected, like I’m in a dream, and I’m aware of all the characters in the dream. I know what’s going to happen, what people are going to say and do, and even if the action is awful, I’m not so terribly concerned, because, well, it’s just a dream. All the things in the dream, the tables, the chair, all the artifacts, living and non- living, they’re just aspects of myself, too, right?”
“You’re asking me?” Fixit asked.
“No. I just thought concluding with an interrogative sounded more socially appropriate,” Preston offered.
“Good for you,” Fixit said, glad that the boy was paying attention to the entertainment holo’s to the same degree he was taking to his academics.
“Again, that suggests awareness and mental stability. How does the Jedi literature explain your experience?”
“Bi-location, remote viewing, and universal data acquisition are not only possible, but reveal a depth of either sensitivity to the Force, or particularly good training,” Preston said.
“You are both sensitive and advanced in your training,” Fixit said.
“I wonder if these flights of fancy are me practicing a skill set, or alleviating boredom,” Preston said.
“Master Yoda is known to say one should be focused on the present.”
“Being focused on the present doesn’t exclude being present in this moment in a different location,” Fixit said.
“Pff. Still, I can hear Yoda chastising me. ‘Never your mind on where you are, what you are doing,’ and he frequently sounds a bit disgruntled,” Preston said.
“That sounds like Yoda,” Fixit agreed.
“But don’t read too much into quotes. No matter how applicable, you can’t assume everything that’s written was directed to you.”
“You’ve met Master Yoda?” Preston asked.
“Yes,” Fixit said.
Preston drew a spiral on a sand plate with a finger. Spirals. Spiral Galaxy. Whirl pools. Tornadoes. Hurricanes. Esoteric energy vortexes in living systems. Chakras. Frame dragging around singularities…
“I had a disagreement with one of my imaginary friends,” Preston reported.
“You still insist they are imaginary,” Fixit said.
“Assume you’re right, does it really matter if they are real or not?”
“It does if it indicates a brain malfunction,” Preston countered.
“Anyway, I refer to them as imaginary because they aren’t esteemed Masters, or people that I’ve read about, which allows for skepticism about their genuine existence until proven otherwise.”
“Fair enough, but don’t be surprised if you end up meeting these imaginary friends of yours in the future,” Fixit agreed.
“Most the time hallucinations that are a direct result of mental illness or the side effect of drugs tend to be disturbing. I’ve not heard you report that these are disturbing. The fact that they infrequently disagree with you suggest a healthy interaction pattern. I say infrequently because it was evident in yesterday’s meditation that you were smiling.”
Preston blushed and was relieved when Fixit didn’t pursue the source of his discomfort.
“You are still traveling to the Temple of Light and participating in your esoteric lessons,” Fixit said.
Preston nodded.
“If I miss more than one session, the Goddess herself checks in on me and reminds me to return when I am ready. She does it with such kindness that I feel guilty if I don’t attend,” he said. He drew another spiral on top of the first spiral in the sand till sufficient sand had been shifted on the plate that the original spiral pattern was lost. He smoothed it out and started over.
“Speaking of which, I wanted to ask you about something that happened…”
“No,” Fixit interrupted.
“What happens at the Temple stays at the Temple. You know that.”
“But I want to share what I’ve learned,” Preston began.
“Secret knowledge is secret for a reason. Only students who make the journey are permitted to carry privileged information,” Fixit said.
“But if it were to make things better?” Preston began.
“There is no better. There is only what is,” Fixit said.
“I’m tired,” Preston said, frowning.
“This has been a fairly heavy conversation. Replete with training objectives and philosophy,” Fixit said.
“I feel like I’m floating,” Preston said.
“I know. Maybe tomorrow, if you are ready, I think it’s time to wake up,” Fixit said.
“I don’t understand,” Preston asked.
“You mean, I’m dreaming?”
“Dreaming, reality, the brain makes no distinction. Information is information,” Fixit it said.
“There is only Force and degrees of wakefulness, degrees of awareness.”
♫♪►
“My whole life is a lie!” Preston yelled. He was scared by his own loudness.
“Your whole life is a dream,” Fixit said. He pointed to the screen.
“You may replay it if
you wish. It’s all recorded.”
“It’s completely fake! Not real. It is worse than a hallucination,” Preston shouted. For the first time in his life, he was ‘seeing’ with his real eyes and all his doubts about reality flared in conjunction his feelings that something had just not been right. He was looking at himself in a mirror where he could see the tech overlays that rested on his head.
“You literally hijacked all of my senses and provided some twisted dream world for your own kicks?!”
“I provided the necessary continuity and developmental structures for optimum growth potential, but it was no more unreal than anything you dream. And though I provided the general template, you, your conscious provided the details. It was because of those details that I decided it was necessary for you to learn the ways of the Force,” Fixit said.
“How could I provide details when you are overriding any external information?!” Preston demanded.
“When you are lucid dreaming, you don’t control the dream, you are simply aware. Your emotions and your intentions drive things, attract things, repell things, but you do not control in any real sense of the word. Something else fills in the details, the back ground colors and textures, the dialogue,” Fixit explained.
“I, too, was very surprised by the complexity in raising an infant to a child, and even more than surprised, I was frequentyly frustrated by the fact that I didn’t control the dream any more than a sailor controls the ocean. That said, my inention to provide you with stability worked. I have kept you safe. You are now old enough that you can function on your own with minimal guidance.”
“You took hovercraft parenting to a whole new level. No child would speak like that!” Preston complained, pointing to the holographic image of himself.
“Your language acquisition is higher than normal because you were not left in front of a holographic entertainment system, but instead were given nonstop dialogue from birth to now,” Fixit said.
“And I made certain that you were given a variety of subjects. Life science, geology, the interactive periodic table, medicine, stellar cartography, political and esoteric knowledge, multiple linguistic maps, it’s all real, and all yours. And your reactions to what happened, what is happening, are all yours.”
“Again, it’s not real!” Preston continued.
“It’s a badly formulated script!”
“I gave you the words, but I didn’t direct their usage. It was necessary to provide you with a primary programming language. It’s functional. Your access to factual data is complete. The structure of memory is less important than the fact you have cognitive maps which allows you to navigate your internal and external worlds,” Fixit argued.
“Whether I gave you scripts or you built them through typical interactions with a family, the scripts are still yours. You can own them or rebuild them as you see fit. It’s only a matter of choosing the perspective you want.”
“I am not a robot. You can’t just wipe my memory and give me new scripts!” Preston said. He felt a tinge of regret at saying it like that, but his anger won through, and the regret was gone in a flash.
“Your feelings are the product of your beliefs. If you don’t like your feelings, you must change your beliefs,” Fixit said.
“You will find that the truths that Jedi cling to are always dependent on a particular perspective. So, I could have told you a story that your parents are dead, and raised you as if you were an orphan, which would have given you a particular social and life vector. You would be different, not better, or worse, just different. What I gave you was truth. Your parents are alive and well, and in a perfect world, if they were free to decide the nature of their own scripts, they most certainly would have raised you very similar to the way they did in the dream I constructed for you. And, because of your sensitivity to the Force, you still would have been sent for training.”
“You don’t know that,” Preston said.
“Not with absolute certainty. They might have ended up divorced and you would be the product of two homes. They both might have killed you to avoid incriminating evidence of violating protocols. They might have adopted you out so as not to have a liability. People of your parents’ position are subject to kidnappings and black mailing and all sorts of social drama,” Fixit said.
“So they’re better off not knowing me?”
“Not better. Different,” Fixit said.
“Am I better not really knowing them?”
“Not better. Different.”
Preston got up and moved towards the exit.
“You are not ready to leave the cave,” Fixit it said. Preston ignored him.
“The gravity is less than standard outside the cave. You’re not trained for the reduced gravity. Additionally, if you intend to visit any of the major civilized worlds in the future, you must spend the majority of your time within the artificial gravity matrix,” Fixit said, moving after Preston.
“Apparently, I am not going anywhere! Because there is no ‘there’ out there, it’s all make believe fluff in my head!” Preston said.
Preston departed the cave with so much energy that he unexpectedly launched himself into the air. He cart wheeled. The flight time was sufficient for him to recover an upwards orientation and so he landed feet first, but continued in a descending slide down the hill, grabbing at plant life and rocks as he did so. A nail broke. The severity of the pain surprised him, causing him to draw his hands back in towards his chest. He accelerated down the hill, taking cuts and abrasions from the edges of leaves and twigs. Flying insects swarmed him, uncertain what to make of this creature not from their planet. Other critters either ran from the noise he was making, or snapped at him as he continued through the brush and then again, suddenly, he was airborne as he went over a cliff. His next stop was into the lake at the bottom of the hill. It was a salt water lake that made every open wound seem as if it were on fire.
Even though his memories of swimming were artificial, they enabled him to surface and make it to shore, gasping for air. Several collection droids descended towards him, beeping excitedly. The CU droids were basically IT-O, or interrogation droids, and not much bigger. Point five meters was sufficient to capture most small creatures and when it wasn’t, they carried sample bags, or worked in teams. The spheroid shaped droids, with black finish, had a variety of sensors, a miniature tractor beam, and a port that could extend a simple arm, or syringe. He saw them descending through tears and for a second was afraid, but when the closest whistled sympathetically, Preston was relieved. Relieved enough to simply cry. CU 2 extended a syringe, wanting to administer a pain killer, but Preston waved it off. The upper portion of the CU turned counter clockwise, independent of the lower half, to orientate a primary sensor, wanting to make sure it had understood correctly.
“No, I want to feel this. It’s real,” Preston said. In his head he heard, ‘there is no real, it is only information.’ It was the voice of the Goddess trying to soothe him, but he was too distracted to hold a conversation with her. He blinked. For a moment he thought he saw her lumisecent form, silhouetred in golden light with sparkles like fizz from his mother’s champaigne glass.
CU2 beeped ecstatically, pointing the syringe at the missing fingernail. It seriously wanted to administer an analgesic.
“Why can’t you have a voice modulator?!” Preston demanded.
“It slows the baud rate,” came the explanation in the voice of Fixit.
“They are designed to transmit higher volumes of data than can be exchanged in human communication protocols.”
“Are you still plugged into my head or am I still dreaming or is that a memory echo explanation?!” Preston asked.
“Damn it. I am a robot!”
♫♪►
Preston made his way back to the cave, slowly, learning to move in lower gravity. Occasionally, as he worked his way up the cliff, he would use CU 2 for support, and probably could have been carried straight to the top, but he didn’t want to overtax the small droid’s systems. Ultimately, he was returning because he was hungry, and this, whatever this was, for all practical purposes, was his home. He had no doubt walked and ran around the empty cavern in a sort of dream like trance, under constant supervision from a droid, but the entrance was as he remembered it, and he fond his way about without confusion. The emptiness of the main chamber was unsettling, as if he expected there to be more furniture and less crates. Fixit stood center of the cave, rotated its primary eye towards him. The far side of the wall was a medical tank, which probably doubled for the artificial womb he was ‘grown’ in. How much time had he spent in the tank, he wondered. Did that explain his sensations of floating?
“Feeling better?” Fixit asked.
“I can’t sustain the emotion,” Preston said, sitting down on the floor. It was hard and cold and Fixit could turn the sensory input into anything he wanted via the implants if Preston only asked, but he didn’t want that, he actually wanted this.
“Is this acceptance?”
“I don’t know. But you have been trained well. You are supposed to question everything, even your own thoughts and feelings. You must always be prepared to dispose of the beliefs that no longer fit. Change is inevitable. Living things die. Beliefs are living things. Humans don’t live long enough to really grasp this concept. I have been functioning for over a thousand years. I have seen many a regime changes. Many social changes. I believe you will adapt,” Fixit said.
“Is this also part of the dream?” Preston asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I believe I am not in the medical tank, or having my senses hijacked, and yet, I still feel like I am floating,” Preston said.
“I feel like I’m immersed in something, not air, but tangible none the less.”
“What you are describing sounds like the Force,” Fixit said.
“By now, you’ve heard many descriptions of this.”
“Yeah, an energy field that surrounds us and binds us all together but what is it?” Preston asked.
“That question is discouraged, not because it’s a bad question, but because it’s just not useful,” Fixit said, calling up an image of a Galaxy which he displayed with his holographic projector. The rotation of the galaxy was sped up to prove a point.
“We know that 96 percent of the Universe is invisible to us. Dark matter, dark energy, whatever you want to label it. We know it’s there because there is a gravitational affect. Without this, the galaxies would fly a part, and life wouldn’t have a chance to form. You can’t see this dark matter. With the exception of its gravitational influence, dark matter does not interact with visible matter at all. Photons pass through it. Normal matter passes through it. We pass through it. We can’t touch it, feel it, see it, smell it, but we know it is there, and we are immersed in this stuff the same way fish are immersed in water. You cannot see dark energy or matter with your eyes, because your eyes are made of matter and it is not.”
“Your eyes will deceive you. Don’t trust them,” Preston quoted.
“Essentially, yes,” Fixit said.
“You are part of something bigger, something that transcends anything you can see, or even contemplate. Even your body is comprised of multiple life forms. You could not exist without the synergistic qualities of multiple organisms living in harmony. The natural flora and fauna on your skin blocks opportunistic infections. The organisms in your stomach help digest foods. You have microscopic entities living inside your cells which help with metabolism. You are not just you. You are more than you. Being aware of this is one of the defining qualities of a Jedi.”
“But I’m not a Jedi. I’m not going to be a Jedi. You have to be formally trained, and according to the literature you presented me with, they are a thing of the past,” Preston said.
“Son,” Fixit said.
“I assure you, you are a Padawan, and when I finish your training, you will be equal to a Jedi. You don’t have to be knighted or in the order to have status. Galactic history is still playing itself out through all the minute details we call life, and I can assure you, the Jedi Light will not be extinguished. My belief is based on historical, circumstantial, and esoteric information, that there will be a resurgence.”
“But I will be alone,” Preston said.
“You have enough experience with the Force, with the Other Side, that you should not be falling for that lie,” Fixit said.
“You have never been alone. You have been surrounded by the Force your entire life and it will always be so.”
“Okay, so I will have imaginary friends, maybe even colleagues, but, how many people share in this philosophy you espouse?” Preston asked.
“Pff, does it matter?”
“Consensus reality requires at minimum a consensus,” Preston said.
Fixit chuckled.
“To exist, reality requires an observer. You may consider particles as interchangeable with observer. There are more water molecules in yonder cup than there are cups of water in any ocean on any planet, and if that isn’t consensus, I don’t know what is. I dare say you are more than a cup of water, definitely not alone, and that is sufficient harmony for me.”
Preston got up and took himself to one of the tunnels branching away from the main cave. At the end of that tunnel, there was a bed there, exactly where he knew it would be. He threw himself down onto it, as he had many times in the dreaming version, and though there was no doubt minute differences, he was unable to identify anything specific. His electronic book, lying next to the bed, came to life as Fixit updated its files.
“Your next reading assignments should be to read the writings of the Aing-Tii monks, and Fallanassi view of the White Current,” Fixit said.
“Con