Evolution: the future, Page 2

  He stops. At the last moment, just before the meeting, he had added a last name. No evidence, only his intuition. “Eve Dirac doesn’t have any relationship with the Agency, but she was Linnh Yung’s roommate at university and she is among the few people with the technical expertise of the criminals. After a short period in the army, she devoted herself to research, excelling in the artificial intelligence field. She was a member of the committee for the certification of the soul programs till a scandal broke. She had favored software producers. Then her suicide, about thirty years ago. After entering Net, she disappeared.”

  He straightens himself, looking at the officers. “Widman and Yung are under surveillance. It won’t be easy to find Eve Dirac.”

  @ Scene in Net.

  IN THE NET

  @ Year 2300, eve.

  From the dining room, come the presenter's jokes followed by roars of laughter. The head waiter takes Victoria to a hall crowded with customers in elegant suits.

  In a cheerful dance, laser beams are criss-crossing the gigantic hologram of a Christmas tree with iridescent reflections. Shortly before midnight the ‘tree’ will vanish leaving the floor free for celebrations. On one side, three colored musicians dressed in white are performing compositions from past times.

  This spot, famous for its excellent food, first-rate service and famous artists, is placed in one of the most exclusive zones of Net and reproduces the environment and the atmosphere of a much earlier epoch, when the virtual world was not yet born.

  Victoria orders an aperitif and checks her appearance in the mirror in front. Her big jade eyes show up a lovely face, her raven hair covers her naked shoulders and the blue lace dress, plain but provocative, reveals her perfect breasts.

  The longing solo played by a frenzied trumpet, seems a distant melody.

  The chair in front is empty.

  She opens her leather handbag, scans inside for a moment, tightening her lips. Then she concentrates on the clients at the entrance. Elegant overcoats.

  There he is! Impressive height, black hair and handsome features. In dinner-jacket, with a silver strip around his waist, a white handkerchief in his breast pocket. A waiter rushes to him and points to the table.

  The man hurries towards Victoria. He bends and whispers: “This evening will be just for us.”

  “I feared you had forgotten me.”

  The man orders an aperitif. He looks through the menu, and when the cocktail arrives, he sips from time to time. Finally he raises his eyes: “What about an epoch dish?”

  “OK.”

  “French cuisine?”

  She nods.

  They place the order.

  Victoria stares in silence at the waiter pouring a vintage Bordeaux into crystal goblets. Then she rotates the glass gently. Ruby color, fruity aroma. On her lips, a sad smile.

  “Is there anything wrong?” asks James.

  “For you it is easy. You spend your day in the real world. Instead I’m here waiting for you all day long…”

  James stretches his arm along the table. Meanwhile Victoria continues: “When I met you in Net after my accident, I thought our love could withstand forever. Not even my death had separated us! I gave up the dehumanization to remain the person you loved. But now I'm not sure anymore.”

  “I realize how difficult is here.”

  “I believed I could integrate in the digital world. But without dehumanization, I am too different from the other souls!”

  “You should return to the real world,” says James caressing Victoria’s hand. “I'll buy you a gynoid (1). You can install inside.”

  “We could sleep together at least! But what shall we do if the law making dehumanization compulsory, passes?”

  James touches lightly Victoria’s nose with his forefinger. “I’m quite sure it doesn’t. The opposition is very strong. But now let's enjoy this evening. I want to see you smiling!”

  (1) Robot with feminine features. The digital beings can install themselves inside.

  TEMPTATIONS

  @

  Victoria is lying on the bed, her head on a soft cushion. She is dreaming of her future life on the Earth, with James, at least. A few weeks more, and everything will be real.

  A soft music diverts her. The smiling face of a young woman with coppery hair and freckled skin appears in her visual field: Nicole, an Australian met a few days before while chatting in Net.

  “I’ve got an idea”, says Nicole. “What about coming and seeing me the next weekend?”

  Victoria opens her eyes wide. “In Sydney?”

  “They have opened up a fabulous nightspot. There is even a disco,” explains Nicole. “We could go next Saturday.”

  “I’ve never been on the Earth after my accident…”

  “And then? It was so long ago! I’m telling you where to hire a gynoid. That agency has plenty of models.”

  “I didn’t think it was so easy” comments Victoria. She has only a hazy recollection of the physical world. When her accident happened, she was in her teens. And for the meetings with her parents and James, she has always resorted to the virtual reality. “Do I need a passport?”

  “The agency will provide you with all the authorizations”, explains Nicole.

  Victoria has an amused air. The robots can reproduce accurately human looks and sensations. She will be able at last to eat a sandwich, to drink a milk and coffee, to walk barefoot on a lawn, on a sunny day. In Sydney: sun, sea and fun.

  “Sorry, but I shan’t be able to see you during the day, I am too busy. You can visit the town by yourself”, ends Nicole with a winning smile.

  Sydney, Earth.

  The great day, at last. On awaking, a smiling technician invites her to get out of bed. Victoria is somewhat awkward, but with the help of a nurse, she gets up and reaches a mirror. She is wearing a white blouse, striped trousers and trainers, just what she ordered.

  She walks into the bathroom and embellishes her lips with ruby. She goes to the reception to withdraw a rucksack with a change of clothes. She puts on her blue spectacles, puts on a flowered headscarf and makes for the foyer. The porter wishes her a nice stay. The main door opens. But after a few steps, Victoria freezes. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. Then she runs downstairs.

  A blinding brightness. A warm breeze. Streets crowded with people of all ages. The loudspeakers spread cheerful music. She reaches a beach crammed with bathers, rents a deckchair, lies down and closes her eyes.

  The same warmth she felt when still a child, she was playing with the sand on the sea front. The rhythmic lapping of the waves. She orders an iced drink and sips it, enjoying the mint flavor.

  She begins walking again, along the seafront, up to a building with immense white sails. Inside, an organ with long brass pipes, the biggest in the world. She continues visiting all morning. At lunch time, Victoria buys a sandwich from a peddler and enters a park. She enjoys her snack on a bench. Cooked ham in thick slices. Crisp salad. Slightly acid tomatoes.

  In the shade of a lime tree, she stares at centuries old trees, some of them populated by huge bats, others with long sharp leaves, like prehistoric plants. She listens to the croaking coming from a lawn. In the background, oddly shaped skyscrapers with wide reflecting windows soar into the sky.

  She steps into an English style quarter: two rows of red brick terraced houses. A group of young people is chatting in a pub and nearby a collector displays books. It is the first time she has run into these rare relics of the past. Victoria takes down a volume from a shelf and while she is leafing through it, the shopkeeper approaches handing her a specimen, worn out by time. “Look at this. A rarity.”

  The girl takes it in her hands. She gazes at its leather cover, then slides her finger over the cracked surface. She turns over the pages gently. The thick rough paper gives off a moldy smell, the ink forms yellowed halos around the characters.

  Images from a distant world: eighteenth century ladies and gentlemen, lace dresses, wigs
, velvets. The street lighting diverts her. Victoria returns the book and starts walking again.

  A little crowd is gathered about a show of sounds and lights. A girl is dancing to the rhythm of drums, while drawing bright shapes with torches. The audience claps.

  Half an hour later, she arrives in front of a neo-Gothic church overlooking a square. The floodlit sandstone curls and spires stand out clearly against the black sky. She lowers her glance towards the crowd at the entrance. They are young and wear yellow, red, green clothes, some of them even provocative.

  A FASHIONABLE PLACE

  The Cathedral, the heart of the town night life. Inside, discotheques and places dedicated to virtual reality. Victoria passes a girl with handsome features busy distributing advertisements.

  She plunges into the main nave, a bare and austere space, made even more striking by the lengthened ribs which expand the space and by the kaleidoscope of lights that filters through the stained glass windows.

  Nicole is in front of the desk, she wears a latex see-through dress. A girl with an olive complexion, all dressed in blue, is pointing at a list. “You can choose among these shows, or…” She leans out, stretching her arm towards a small door. “Stepping into that maze, you can see the exhibitions on the way. You will have plenty of surprises.”

  Victoria gets near. “What about the labyrinth?”

  After the registration, they pass two smiling girls, one of them in an electric green body stocking, the other in a lemon dress, and walk into a corridor that widens at intervals, but in others narrows leaving space only for a single person. Every now and then Victoria peeps, through the slits in the walls, into the adjacent corridors.

  They reach a room with blue walls.

  Victoria looks around. “A show here? But this room is empty!”

  “Be patient.”

  “What’s it about?”

  Nicole shrugs her shoulders.

  The neural chip takes possession of their minds.

  Now they are in the middle of a laboratory in which paint jars, brushes and palettes, jugs and other pieces of pottery are scattered. On one side, iron wires, tins and cartons. The walls are covered with paintings.

  “Hey, you two!” From a corner a stocky man with bulging eyes approaches them. He has a paint stained jacket and his beret at a rakish angle. In his hands, a piece of cardboard.

  “Are you a painter?” asks Victoria.

  He smiles with satisfaction. “I am also a poet.” (2)

  Once upon a time works of art transmitted their messages through one sense at a time, seldom more. Thus a painting affected sight, a statue could be admired and touched, a poem attracted not only for its content, but also for its sound. A perfume enraptured through its fragrance and masterpieces of cuisine delighted for their taste and refined presentation. But the author, with the few available means, had to limit himself to the simplest expression forms.

  This lack of communication lasted for millennia, until the 21st century, when, thanks to virtual reality, works began to interest all senses simultaneously. It was only the beginning.

  Less than a century later, the installation of a neural chip in the brain made it possible to access the mind directly, completely excluding sensory communication. The inability to share one’s own world belonged to the past.

  Art was undermined, died and rose again. Today an artistic work is formed by programs able to excite sensations and emotions. It is interactive, so that it is completed only through contact with the user. The expressions are emblematic of this change: in the past the masterpieces were admired, heard and sometimes touched, today they are simply lived. The artist usually inserts into his work a kind of genius, usually with his own appearance, who drives the user through the experience.

  “What’s your name, Sir?” asks Nicole.

  “Sorry I didn’t tell you before,” answers the other handing a visiting card.

  “Pablo Diego José Santiago de Paula Juan... Trinidad Ruiz Picasso.” The girl raises her eyes. “What a long name!”

  In the twilight, a woman appears in a black dress trimmed with lace. She approaches with a light step. Her hair gathered into a soft knot, at the nape of her neck, gives her an austere look. Her fair complexion emphasizes her brown eyes.

  “How do you do? My name is Olga.”

  A five or six-year-old child throws himself into the woman’s arms. He has pale thin skin, and wears a yellow and turquoise harlequin costume. She caresses his hair. “Our son Paulo.”

  The child peeps at the guests, revealing his mother’s eye color, and right after hides his face in her skirt.

  Victoria smiles. “You are as like as two peas.”

  The hostess turns towards the entry, where a young woman with long golden hair has appeared. “Sorry.”

  And without adding anything else, she departs, drawing her child after her.

  The two continue ignoring each other although they have to pass. The newcomer is wearing an organza blouse showing her soft curves, and holding the hand of a cheerful little girl with two plaits tied with ribbons.

  She presents herself with a triumphant smile: “I am Marie-Thérèse. Maya, say hello to our guests!”

  The child keeps on hugging her teddy bear, as though nothing has happened.

  A few minutes later a third lady with a black embroidered jacket and a red checked skirt, enters. Her regular features and well-kept hands with long carmine nails, match her proud glance. “Pleased to meet you, Dora.”

  These two ladies avoid speaking to each other as well, exchanging poisonous looks.

  The painter takes a step back, looks at the scene with an amused air: bodies ready to spring, as before a fight…

  “We have to go!” yells Victoria.

  A rapid exchange of glances.

  “You have come here to admire my works, haven’t you?” the painter asks distinctly. Without waiting for a reply, he makes for a picture with a clashing combination of black, ochre and white (3). Nicole follows him. “May I touch it?”

  “It is made for this.”

  The girl slides her finger over the black lines outlining the colored areas, then passes to an ochre zone. She has the sensation of touching a hot damp body. She moves back just enough to see the whole. Now the colors are mixing up taking the shape of two lovers engaged in a passionate embrace.

  “What do you think about it?” asks the painter.

  “Remarkable.”

  Nicole starts the exploration again. Realistic details. Sinuous movements. She has the impression of sinking into an animal world.

  “Are we to paint what's on the face, what's inside the face, or what's behind it?” (4) says the artist.

  A man’s head, with a prominent nose and his mouth reduced to a vertical fissure, surfaces from the picture.

  “What strange forms…” says Nicole.

  She stretches out her hand towards the nose, seizes it. But a moment later she looses her hold, with a disgusted expression. “Is that what I think?”

  The painter nods.

  A thrill runs through the whole canvas. The lovers, who a moment before belonged to a flat world, take shape. The curves and edges of the bodies emerge. The man leans outwards with his torso, stretches an arm, then a leg. He touches the floor, jumps up to Nicole.

  She screams.

  “Art is never chaste,” (5) comments on the artist.

  Victoria who was chatting with the hostesses, turns. Her friend is dominated by the massive build of the man. She struggles, tries to wriggle free striking his chest with a hail of blows, but she is held in a vise-like grip.

  Meanwhile the other figures are getting out of the paintings and start wandering about the room…

  Victoria leaves the two women abruptly. She runs towards Nicole, slips past strange creatures with absurd bodies, and a goat made of wire and cardboard that is bleating obstinately.

  She reaches the assailant, repeatedly kicks his shins, takes aim and treads heavily on his toes with
her heels.

  While the man is yelling, she catches Nicole by the arm and pulls. One, two, three times. Free!

  The girls rush towards the exit, fly along the corridor, up to the end.

  They lean against the wall.

  “Are we still in the virtual reality?” asks Victoria, bent over from the effort.

  Nicole turns towards the door. “I’d say no: no one has chased us.”

  “I don’t feel like continuing in the maze. What about visiting the discotheque? We will be safe there.”

  The hologram of a steward with a perfect tan, materializes. “Please, follow me.”

  After a few meters, Victoria touches her forehead: cold sweat.

  “Are you OK?” asks Nicole.

  “I had a moment of panic, as if something terrible was waiting for us.”

  “Come on! The worst has passed. Bet a handsome man is waiting for you, instead!”

  They have a laugh.

  Deafening music. The room shrouded in semi-darkness swarms with restless people milling around on the dance floors, where they let themselves go to unrestrained rhythms. At a height of about ten meters, inside transparent cubes, a few young women move with suppleness in their iridescent sheath dresses, while all around the holographic figures of virtual singers are hanging in space.

  Victoria and Nicole push their way through the crowd up to a floor, where three professional androids are performing acrobatic dance. They take two colored drinks from a tray and enter the crowd. Nicole stops in front of her image reflected in a mirror. "What’s happened?"

  Her face and hands have become fluorescent.

  A laugh, from behind.

  “That’s the drink. Tomorrow you will be back to normal,” explains a young man with deep blue eyes and a mop of curly fair hair. He indicates his table. “Take a seat, please!”

  The girls join him.

  “My name is Abel.”

  “Nice to meet you. Nicole.”

  “I am Victoria. How long have you been here?”

  “For about an hour.” He hands a dish full of sweets. “Help yourself!”

  They start chatting. He is a student in the last year of philosophy.