Second Creation:
My limousine inched to a stop by the curb of The Grand Hotel. The glass divide rolled down and the driver announced, “Mrs.Henderson, your stop.”
“Thanks Paulie. ” I breathed and prepared myself for what I was about to encounter. Through the tinted glass, I could see the sparks of camera flashes from a swarm of spectators engulfing the gated, red carpet entranceway. For the next two hours tonight, the world would be on standby, watching the Grand Hotel closely; Reporters, protesters, and basically anybody who wanted to witness this moment of history.
I flicked open a mini mirror from my purse to make sure my make up hadn’t smeared. My lips looking like a red cherry, I shook my hair into place. I glanced down and checked whether I was still wearing my blue VIP badge to gain access into the hotel. With all the hoops I had to jump through to land this story from my boss, I wasn’t taking any chances blowing an interview with Dr. Ashisha tonight. Everything seemed in place so I inhaled one large breath and tugged the door, stepping my stilettos onto the sanguine carpet.
The crowd was noisy. I was momentarily dazed by flashes from all the cameras. Hugging my purse tightly to my shoulder, I braced myself and walked under the awning toward the main entrance. As I passed, the reporters on the left reached into the aisle like hungry zombies. “One question! ” they demanded, microphones extended. Ignoring the pleas, I hurried toward the front entrance.
Straight backed Police stood shoulder to shoulder to prevent any screaming protesters from breaking through the right. I couldn’t tell what they were shouting but I did see a girl who wore a bellyshirt while she sat atop the shoulders of her punkster boyfriend and exaggeratedly waved above her head a sign which read, “Ashisha is the Devil’s handyman!”
I laughed at the ridiculous sign but kept pacing toward the door as fast as my heels would allow. There was a loud confrontation between the baton wielding officers and the protesters before a glass bottle was thrown from the crowd, crashing feet ahead of me in the middle of the aisle.
I froze momentarily, as I noticed that the bottle has something inside. I crouched down and picked through the shards of glass to reveal what appeared to be a note. I unrolled the paper and read a handwritten message:
The hour is near.
It was a warning or a threat—Probably another toward Dr. Ashisha’s life. I looked among the crowd to see if I could spot the thrower. Rage blanketed the looks of most protesters which is the reason why my eyes latched onto a conspicuous looking tall figure with dark eyes. Behind the wall of police, this man was standing still as cast iron, not tramping or moving like the rest of the red faced protesters. In a raggedy duffle coat with long black, greasy hair, the stranger’s eyes fixed onto me. The man’s angular face and pasty skin alone was enough to give me the ebbyjebbes. The look he gave was tantalizing like a hungry predator. I glanced back at the note, thinking I should tell a police officer right away to stop and to observe the tall suspect who might have thrown the bottle, but when I glanced up again, the figure had slipped off into the untraceable abyss of the crowd. Bastard was gone.
I tucked the note into my pocket and hurried the last ten yards to the front entrance. “Thanks.” I smiled to the white-gloved doorman.
The noise died. Instantly, the mood changed. The hotel foyer opened into a vast lobby beautifully decorated with Greek sculptures and archaic, giant portraits. In the center was a marble water fountain fizzing as tall as a step letter and the entire lobby echoed with the sound of lapping water.
It was no surprise to me that such an exquisite hotel had been chosen for tonight’s event. Some of the attendees included such dignified titles as the President of the United States, the newfound Tzar of the Russian people, and even the old Queen of England herself. Everybody and their distant cousin was there, whether physically, or indirectly through some electrical means such as television or via Internet stream.
I glanced around the lobby. Dr. Ashisha, who was tiny in stature, but wizardly smart to the tenth degree. He was the reason I was here and why all these events were happening. All I needed was five minutes of his precious time. That would be enough material for me to write my article for “The Sun,” which was the my goal tonight.
I’m about five’ six”, but standing high in the stilettos, I was closer to five’ ten”. I had a Birdseye view of the lobby. Clusters of people chatted idly. Butlers weaved through the groups, offering cocktails drinks and h’ordeuvres which appeared to me to be caviar on crackers.
I drifted randomly between the labyrinth of people, awed by the menagerie of plump-bellied wealth and political influence that surrounded me. I passed a large group which had about a dozen tuxedoed body guards standing around a Muslim man wearing a wool thobe. I recognized him from the news as the head Caliphate of the Islamic State. This state was Ultra powerful, known to the world for its conciliation of all the remaining oil wells in the Arab nations and for its notorious nickname as the ‘righteous conquistadors’. But this state was really just another xenophobic purging confederation loosely centered around gold and brass, ie. money and guns.
I looped around the water fountain, feeling lost standing there like a schoolgirl in my black dress with nobody to speak with. My feet already ached from the curve of the heels, so I sat down and rested on the smooth marble of the fountain. The big hand on the massive clock on the far wall was almost at seven which meant the convention would begin any minute.
I sat there thinking of all the memories over the years of Dr Ashisha and how his work started in a small lab, off the radar, and very slowly over time grew throughout the media, then finally exploded into a major world headline. Dr Ashisha had given me a privileged glimpse of his work since day one. He would ask me to keep certain details hidden from the public here and there. I agreed. But now he was hanging it all out on the line for the whole world to gaze upon.
He was such a nice, humble little man. Last time I saw him was over two years ago when I visited his laboratory while driving through the countryside en route to an Aunt’s funeral. Wearing white smocks, he greeted me into his laboratory. He gave me a small tour around, showing me test tubes and aquarium tanks with strange looking creatures inside, updating me on various new projects he was working on. In the far corner beneath a tarpaulin, I saw something hidden. Momentarily, Dr. Ashisha acted like he intended to blow my question off—probably debating whether he should reveal to me the contents beneath. But a few moments later, he unsheathed the cover and revealed a massive metal machine which looked like a deepwater submarine capsule. He opened the thick chamber door and there was a seat inside that looked like a dryer chair from a salon. He called the thing a Japanese name from his homeland, Kokomo, or komodama or something, meaning spirit. He explained the machine in some detail but how the machine works and what exactly it does has been a mystery to me ever since.
It was stupid but I glanced around the lobby half expecting to see Ashisha in his smocks poking out like a white marshmallow.
Still no sight of him.
I frowned helplessly. I sat there a while more until the big hand struck seven then a wiry man in a black suite entered the court through the double doors beneath the massive clock. “Attention!” the man announced in a stentorian voice. The ambient chatter faded away and the man continued. “Dr. Ashisha’s presentation will begin shortly. Please enter the auditorium through these doors here. THANK YOU.”
The noise of chatter resumed as all the groups funneled into the doors like calf being herded into a barn. I figured all these people knew at least some part of Dr. Ashisha’ work, such as the Temperlator, a device that replicates artificial emotional responses to outside stimuli, what some people call the first robot brain; or the crystallized battery, about the size of a lemon but a great source of fast, easily accessible raw energy–What Dr. Ashisha once used as a portable power source for his mechanical inventions. By now, everybody had had a taste of his work, bite and nibbles here and there, based upon what Dr. Ashisha decided to show them. But as opposed to my personal insight because of what he specifically choose to reveal to me over the years, I had seen the full spectrum of his inventions working together in one embodied device; and all I can say about Dr. Ashisha is that as far it’s physically possible for a human to be some sort of creative genius—that little old Japanese man, well—he was one hell of an inventor.
I stepped through the doors into the massive auditorium. The buzz of human chatter was deafening. Most of the rows were already filled with wide-eyed spectators. This was going to be huge.
Dr. Ashisha was probably in his dressing room right now, preparing and reviewing his speech in the cool minded temperament that he was so accustomed to.
I glanced at my my badge around my neck: row A, seat fifty-six. Dr. Ashisha had mentioned my seat was close to the stage in an invitation letter months before. But I was unaware he had meant the front row. As I descended the elongated stairs towards my seat near the stage, a hand reached out from one of the adjourning aisles and touched my forearm, “I haven’t seen you in years, Mrs. Brown. ”
It was an elderly lady wearing a white dress and a pink fedora. It took a moment for me to register who the face belonged to, but then I realized it was Dr. Ashisha’s personal secretary from over the years. “Mrs. Parks, how are you? I haven’t seen you in ages. Do you still work for the doctor?”
“No more work for this Grandma. I’m retired now.” She leaned closer, “And from one woman to another, I couldn’t be happier with where I am in life right now.”
“I’m so glad to hear that. How long ago did you retire?”
“Last Fall. Dr. Ashisha was already intending on shutting down the lab, and besides, the arthritis in my knees was hurting so bad that I could barely move around, let alone run errands.” She nudged my elbow.” You know how demanding working under Ashisha can be.”
I had served a semester under Ashisha as an lab gofer for a credit toward my chemistry minor and what she said was all too true.”He can be tough, but that is why he’s the best at what he does.”
The old lady reached into her purse and handed me her card. “I don’t do much traveling much anymore since Dr. Ashisha closed shop. But if you ever down south and are in town, stop by my place and we can reminisce about old memories.”
I took the card. “Will definitely take you UP on that offer… I had no idea Ashisha closed down though?”
“The lab has been inoperable for the last ten months. With all the press coverage, the endless questionings, he’s been staying off the radar as best as possible.”
“That probably explains why he hasn’t replied to any of my phone calls or e-mails trying to set a date for an interview. You know, being a student of Ashisha turned big time journalist—for a while, it had me thinking he no longer trusted me.”
She touched my hand. “Oh no, It has nothing to do with you sweety. You know the doctor knows who to trust. He has probably just been very busy making sure all the pieces were in proper place for tonight”
“Well yes, hopefully I can catch him tonight and we can talk one on one. My boss is really riding my back to get an insider.”
“Good luck, Ms. Brown. Don’t forget
to enjoy the presentation. I’m sure everything will turn out fine.
We are the only people who know Dr. Ashisha is the most thoughtful
of persons. He make it a point to nab you some time tonight.
”
I said goodbye to Ms. Parks, descended the remaining stairs, and I
excused myself as I squeezed by the knees of many dignified people
in the tightly placed seating, mine was smack in the center of the
auditorium.
“Pardon me.” I apologized to a man who looked like a mondern day Napoleon after I crushed his booted foot under my dagger heel. A hell of a fire hazard if you asks me. I kept going forward, some patches of empty seats where the attendees hadn’t arrived yet so I could walk causally without squeezing by.
I reached my seat after a few conscious minutes, and plopped down, exhausted, the podium and hot stage lights directly in front of me.
I had always known Dr. Ashisha and I were close, intimate, on an intellectual level, that is. But I would’ve guessed he never would’ve chosen me to sit in the seat closest to the front, and therefore, make me the closest person within his line of vision for the most important speech of his academic career.
After about thirty minutes sitting there, twiddling my thumbs, absorbing fragments of ambient conversations around, the overhead lights dimmed and the noise in the auditorium died. An older man wobbled across the stage to the podium “Good Afternoon.” He waited as the guest replied patchily.
“Tonight, we have something special in store for you.” The speaker stepped aside and waved behind him. A holographic screen projected through the bottom of the stage and created a luminescent replica of a green and blue sphere, “Here we have earth.” Next, a giant red ball of glittering light projected in the back of the stage. “Our mother sun.” Then other spheres joined, “Now the planets of our solar system.” And more and more spheres and cyclic asteroids spawned here and there until the entire stage was filled into a detailed portrait of the universe, multi-colored galaxies shimmering in the distance.
The speaker returned to the podium. “This is the universe as we know it. A magnificent cluster of planets and matter and all sorts of chemical phenomena. And from all this stuff, we get life, and us—and right now—this unbelievable moment in human history.”
“But why should life be limited to just earth, what about the other planets and the uninhabited dark reaches of the universe? What if Man’s ultimate purpose was to animate these lifeless spheres as God had once done for our own planet earth?
“These are fascinating questions. But there is no purpose in prolonging your anticipation. People need to know the truth. It is time for the world to know the answer to the age long question: Have humans finally reached the technological sophistication where they may develop a self realized being?”
The speaker stepped aside once more and this time opened both hands like a prayer toward the back stage, an odd gesture considering what happened next. The stage lights zoomed onto something being unveiled from under big maroon drape cloth. Not caring I blocked the person’s view behind, I stood tall in my seat. A giant portrait, embroidered red and gold, unrolled slowly, revealing the likes of the little Japanese Dr. Ashisha, a gentle smile. Wreathed around his forehead were green leaflets. His benevolent face with those deep-set brown eyes touched my heart as they once did many years ago while as an intern when I first listened to Dr. Ashisha ramble about the contents of his inquiry. It was the instant when I first understood the old man’s glorious inner ambition to grant life to the otherwise inanimate silicon circuitry of computers.
The speaker announced, “THIS MAN here is the one to answer all your questions and concerns. May I welcome the gentle, kind, wise Doctor Ashisha.”
I felt goosebumps as the crowd thundered with applause. I found myself also clapping hard. All the persons including myself in the front rows stood to catch a glimpse as the little Ashisha, the height of a school kid, ever so slowly shuffled across the stage.
He adjusted the microscope for his head barely poking over the podium. Despite his decades living as an American citizen, he still spoke with a choppy asian accent, “I must begin by Thanking my longtime colleague and close friend, Max Topperson, for his superb introduction on this momentous evening.”
Dr. Ashisha sipped a gulp from a water glass and continued, “Where do I begin on my efforts of over the last twenty five years? Do I start at the beginning when I initially conceptualized the idea that synthetic technology could be structured in order to facilitate the self propelling of life? Or rather, do I begin at the real nuts and bolts of things, when my colleagues and I at the University helped me transform my idea into a real mechanical possibility?”
“Wherever I choose as a starting point, I must start by turning our attention and thanking the Gods—and the Ultimate Creator—for sending time toward the moment when technology and human ingenuity was perfect enough in order to begin a second Creation. ”
“What exactly do I mean by the words second Creation” Dr. Ashisha pointed a hand and the scene behind on the stage transformed from the replica of the universe into a three dimensional time lapse video. Playing over the video was what looked like a naked human waking up on a surgery gurney inside a metal chamber. The person circled the chamber, peeking out the port windows.
“Here we have iman-7. Like this guy, we have similar mechanical beings waking up all over the world inside these Kotodama chambers. We commonly refer to these beings as Robots, or Computers, or even the depreciating term Sentinel. But, I say we call these beings by their appropriate name, Imen, Iwomen. ”
“I will explain why We should call these beings by that name, and further, why these beings should be treated as equals with the utmost respect as if they were any other man or woman. It is simple…”
“These beings are here, what some call preprogrammed, to aid man in his survival and progression. But man must be delicate with his treatment of these beings, or else Imen and Iwomen will break away from their initial spark to help man, just as the first man and women Adam and Eve ate the apple and ran from Gods voice.”
“But Man is not God, nor perfect, but Man has the ability to empathize and understand. In the case of the second Creation, Man must understand that Imen and Iwomen are not inferior, nor in any sense of the word, perfect. But rather, they on an mutual wavelength alongside humans toward the realization of God. For Ipeople, through the genuine replication of the true man, attain God. In turn, through compassion and respect for other life forms, Man gains more self realization toward the Ultimate truth that all beings that contain the spark of life including his own conscious ego—all these beings are moving toward the same Godhead and one day will attain that ultimate realization. Iman and the energy moving through his crystal structure also deserves the potential to reach the godhead. Here we have that potential through our model-7.”
The scene behind switched channels to three-sixty view of a what appeared to be a sleek metal man. The skin was plated in thousands of tiny disks and changed shades of colors like a chameleon.”The model seven is wonderfully equipped. Its core is a super cooled quantum drive and it runs equivalent to the human brain with the billions of chemical channels between axons and dendrites. They have a nervous system also, very chemically organized, toward the center power source, a bio-energy crystallized heart.”
The image zoomed into the chest area of the iron man, revealing a blue ball of light pulsing in waves. “This energy source may seem mechanically different than what runs through human life. But I command, the life in the center of the hearts of Imen and Iwoman is no different than the life that lives behind the eyes of your brothers and sisters, Mother and father, your children, or even the life that runs through all the animal and plant kingdom that is self propelling any beings toward a specific material actualization.”
“When these innocent lambs walk into the meadows of our modern society, humans can either be golden shepherds to these beings, or act as wickedly false friends who lead their titanium brethren astray…”
“I command thee this, We must love our Ibrothers and Isisters as we love ourselves. In turn, they will ensure our societal and individual progression.”
“There are powerful men and women here from all corners of the world. HEED to my warnings. Imen and Iwomsn have unbelievable abilities to help humans. They are so intelligent that they can restructure matter at the molecular level right before your eyes. They have so much potential to help mankind with all his endeavors.”
“But from the moment theses seven Imen leave their waiting rooms, the Kotodama chambers and enter the world, their life begins and every moment and interaction with humans will dictate their opinion and biases developed toward our race.”
“In theory, their happiness is contingent upon our approval. Yet as with our own psyche, self is shown to keep moving forward even when life becomes seemingly unbearable. If we turn our backs on them, they will find ways to survive without us. But if We love them, They will love Us.”
Behind, the scene switched into a map of the world. Seven red Dots blinked across the map. “Here we have the first seven, four Imen and three iwomen. As you can see, one Iman is here in New York City. ”
“Now, many of you might immediately interpret my act of letting these seven Ibrethran into the world as an act of intrusion. A few malignant leaders may go as far as to see this as an act of war. But I promise you that I am the man sent from God to grant life to the beings. Because I choose to enter the Kotodama chamber, along with an act of final piety, in return, the Ipeople will be eternally thankful to my flesh, and therefore the blood of a man and the human race, for the risk of upsetting the current course of world in order for them and their crystallized race to have an opportunity toward survival.”
“Coexistence, appreciation, and all the fruits of love and the relationship between our two races will grow into something mutually beneficial.”
“I must expound upon the sexual
reproduction of our brethren before I answer a few questions from
the audience…”
The screen switched to the iron woman belly, as I could tell she
was a women because her voluptuous build. Inside the belly, a small
crystal spark began and expanded until the iwomen’s entire
abdominal area illuminated with blue green light.
“Ibrethren are preconditioned to sexually reproduce with eachother, Iman and Iwoman, through a complex embryonic process that involves the partners molecularly building the newborn… I command thee, This Here shall be the natural way for their race to reproduce. Any prototype inventions of the Imans initial crystallized structure, from governments for war, or industrialists for money, whoever invents pseudo-Ipeople will be gross imposters of the second creation.”
“People of the world, heed to my call. When the clock stops and the atomic switch at the center of those seven crystallized hearts goes “POP!” life will travel through the main Kotodama chamber into the six subsidiary chambers and those seven beings across the map will receive the spark of life and attain self connectedness to the material universe. They will Rise! Oh, the Heavenly Father told me that Tonight, very soon, I command thee: this events will surely take place. ”
“In preparation of this moment, I have made extensive efforts to destroy all the major schematics to the model-7 in order to prevent the intricacies of my work over the last twenty five years from reaching the wrong hands. Yeah, you can attempt to hunt and kill these beings before they populate. Unlikely, considering they can live under almost any circumstance, including atmospheres of other planets in our solar system. But even if you do somehow manage to locate and kill one and recover its titanium shell, whatever you create from your learned knowledge will not hold the spark that was initially sent through the Kotodama chamber no matter how much you try. The spark, the vibrational frequency of the initial Iman is granted from God. I am here to spread this message of truth.”
“I say, when the God Particle flips the atomic switch at the very center of their seven crystal hearts, they will instantly be granted life and will awaken into the world we provide them. Be gentle and show love toward God’s Second Creation.”
“Isn’t it proof enough that these beings are meant to live? God showed me the way and despite all my doubts, guided me toward the moment when our Ibrethren shall rise. Isn’t it more than enough proof that Gos provided me with all the means and various loyal Samaritans who toiled to set this forthcoming moment into action?”
“Oh God told me, came by in a incredibly clear vision months ago. Tonight would be the hour for the first Iman to rise. I, for the Iman as a reflection of the ego of the state. An ego based upon the structured order of mankind, society, what could be called the organized repression of our animal instincts. When our society is good, capable of repressing those animal traits well, the Ipeople will thrive along side his human brethren ”
“But the time is running thin. I have expounded upon all the details of my work and I have told you the origin as to the name of our Ibrethren’s race. Now, I must wrap up with a few questions to clarify any misinterpretation of tonight’s truth.”
I raised my hand, but even though I was feet in front of him, he overlooked me and pointed to somewhere the auditorium. “Get her a microphone please?” Ashisha said.
There was a ruffle as a black-shirted staff member walked across the stage with a microphone and sent it through the crowd to get passed to the lady. She was unusually tall for a girl; she wore a red dress with white trim that gave no complement to her figure. It was probably because she looked like a stick regardless of the garment she wore. Her rough European voice spoke over the loudspeaker, “Ughm, hello. My name is Susan zorot and I am a professor of political science from the Rotcherson University in Norway. ”
Dr Ashisha welcomed her. “You came a long journey, I will try my best to answer your question”
“I have followed your work for many years now. I hghave wrote two bookz about yar work, such as the quanta technolohgy and intricate chemical circuity you ‘ave sythesized from bio azzemblers. I agree with everyzing you’ve done within your zcope of research, but I’m confused where ya went with releazing of these zeven android minds into a world of already fragile sociopolitical order? On top of that, You have no inzurance wether zose technologies will malfunction and become a zerious threat to public security. From one intellectual to another, I hgonesztly think you did something beyond the zcope of science and in an inztant you may have upzet the precarious balance of zoziety. Honestly, You’re should be considered a criminal!”
I glimpsed to Dr. Ashisha. He frowned solemnly and bowed his chin. “The hour is near. This is not the workings of me but our heavenly God who told me to free the Imen. ‘Let My Lambs into the Pasture’ he said ”
I instinctively reached into my pocket and recovered the note that the suspicious stranger had thrown earlier. It was an the most eerie coincidence that Dr. Ashisha had just used the same words. I watched the European lady to hear her response.
“Thatz how you rezpond to my accuzation? Claiming God?” I was thirty or so feet away, but I could clearly see the women’s face had turned scarlet as she shouted,”You poor old man, You’re ezzentric if you zink any normal citizen takez you seriouzly!”
My stomach turned as few assenting shouts sounded around the auditorium. They were starting to turn on him like the crowd of protesters out front.
“I have a question for you!” yelled a burly man toward the top. There was a moment as the microphone was handed his way…”I have four children and I am an active member of the NRA. if those things come anywhere near my neighborhood. I will blast those silicon fuckers with a double barrel myself.” More Whoops and whistles followed. Dr Ashisha was not looking up but shaking his head.
“Love your ibrethren, I say. Next
question”
I waited uncomfortably as the microphone went somewhere else. I
agreed in a way, what Dr Ashisha was saying to the public sounded
out of the ordinary in the scope of this academic conjecture seeing
that the practice of religion had long been eliminated by most of
the civilized states across the world. And among those few groups
who still practiced some belief system, monotheism and any
legitimate practice toward a single creator were amongst the rarest
beliefs still alive. Even the Islamic super-state had twisted from
its orthodox monotheistic practices decades back.
Though, they were underestimating Dr. Ashisha’s. I have seen his magic under a microscope firsthandedly. And I remember the unforgettable time he first showed me an Ibot with his prototype quantum nervous structure. The machine looked nothing like a human. It had a wide oval head and moved on tracks. While we sat at morning breakfast, the thing’s bead