“I was awful.”
“I was going to say beautiful. Come on, you weren’t awful. It was a weird situation.”
“I was, Jimmy, and I never got a chance to apologize for that. I’m really sorry.”
“Hey, it helped focus me at the time, and look where that got me.” I swept my arm toward all the important-looking dignitaries. “I should be thanking you.”
“I don’t think you should be thanking me.” She frowned, but then the smile returned. “Look at you now, Mr. Jim Scadden. You sure have changed.”
“Oh,” I said, “you have no idea.”
We stood looking at each other, the air electric with anticipation.
“So you call that an apology?” I asked, drawing her in. “That just now?”
She laughed. “My attempt, anyway.”
“I think maybe I need something more substantial, perhaps over dinner.”
“That sounds like a great idea. When?”
“No time like the present,” I said with a wink. Things were done here.
She paused before giving me her answer. “Sure, why not?”
Something inside me growled, and I took her hand, leading her toward the exit.
Life was coming full circle.
8
Identity: Patricia Killiam
I was sitting on another of the interminable board meetings, but at least I had something I wanted to accomplish at this one.
We were in the Solomon House conference room at a working session on marketing materials for the pssi launch, this one focusing on stress. One of the items I’d managed to get on the agenda was pushing Infinixx forward on the release schedule, so Nancy was there with me to help make the case. Jimmy was there as well, now a part of the Security Council. He sat beside Nancy.
We were about to start watching the advertising video, but so far all we’d been doing was listening to a monologue by Dr. Hal Granger about his happiness index, and how it was the core measurement on which the whole pssi program was based. His program was becoming ever more popular as it traded off the Cognix brand, but I had no idea what people saw in him. His ego had long since outstripped his talents.
The Chinese representatives were dialed-in today. They were nodding politely as they listened to Hal, but he was getting on my nerves. Again.
Synthetic reality wasn’t the only thing pssi was useful for. Flooding neural systems with smarticles had made it possible to actively regulate ion flow along axons, helping us to stop, and even rehabilitate, neurological diseases such as Parkinson’s. Alzheimer’s had been a big win for us nearly twenty years ago, and was now a disease of the past—at least for those with money. Much of Atopia’s construction had been funded by revenues Cognix had derived from these medical breakthroughs.
Stress, however, was something different.
After conquering, or at least taming, most of the major diseases, stress had become the biggest killer in the rich world. It had many sources. Sometimes it was just the grind of our environment—noise, pollution, light, advertising, change—but mostly it was the sense of losing control, of not being where we thought we should be or who we should be with.
Finding ways to deal with memories was the foundation of almost all of the solutions.
The human mind had a nearly endless capacity for suspending disbelief, and we’d found this was an effective vector in the fight against stress and anxiety. Some said we were just teaching people to fool themselves, but then again, when were people ever not fooling themselves?
I sighed.
But all we could do was supply the tool. How people decided to use it was entirely up to them, despite all the recommendations I could make.
Finally, Hal finished his rambling presentation, and the advertisement started.
“Have you ever wished you were free from the constant bombardment of advertising? Pssionics now makes it possible!” said the extremely attractive young man featured in our commercial. “Saving the world from the eco-crunch is going to be the best thing you’ve ever done for yourself!”
The meeting was being conducted in Mandarin, but our pssi seamlessly reconstructed everything in whatever language we preferred, even visually translating culturally distinct body language and facial expressions.
Fifty years ago, they’d been predicting we’d all be speaking Chinese by now, but in the end, the ultimate lingua franca was the machine metadata that intermediated it all. Everyone spoke whatever language they wanted, and the machines translated for us, so nobody needed to learn more than one anymore.
The study of languages was just more roadkill left behind on our headlong race ahead.
As the advertisement droned on, I couldn’t help feeling mounting disgust with the way it focused on happiness. Sure, it’s important, but what exactly is happiness? What we were pushing wasn’t exactly what we were pitching.
Soon enough, the ad finished and faded away into the familiar rotating symbol of Atopia, the pyramid and sphere.
“So what do you think?” our marketing coordinator asked.
Still staring at the rotating logo, my mind had wandered into thinking some odd features of the storm systems coming up the coast toward us.
“I liked it,” Dr. Granger responded, nodding ingratiatingly toward our Chinese guests. “I think I’m going to make some slight changes to the empathic feedback.”
“Sounds good,” said Kesselring, here in his primary-subjective for once. “As I was saying before, all the psychological, neurological, and, well, all test results have been compiled. Everything looks good for launch.”
He smiled an unbecoming grin at me. I raised my eyebrows but said nothing, and everyone around the table clapped. Everyone but me.
“Patricia?” Kesselring looked at me. “Anything to add?”
“I liked it, looked wonderful. Who could possibly resist a pitch like that?”
Kesselring’s lips pressed together. “You have something to say?”
I paused, struggling, but I couldn’t help myself. “How has this ‘happiness index’ become such a central barometer?”
I was treading on thin ice with the Chinese delegation here, but the urge was too strong.
“Isn’t happiness the central, single most important thing in a person’s life?” Hal turned to me, assuming a defensive posture. His reality-skin began sporting the revolting smile he loved to use on his EmoShow. He looked like a weasel on Prozac.
“I wouldn’t argue with you.” I held up my hands in mock defense. “But this is supposed to be a serious medical evaluation, not a popularity contest. And knowing about happiness is different than actually creating it.”
“Patricia,” Hal responded in a measured tone, as if I were a guest on his show, “I think you have some issues going on here, some issues beyond this discussion.”
“Don’t try to deflect this.”
“Of course not,” he laughed. Now he was the one with his hands up. “I’m just saying, maybe you should have a look at your own happiness indices before you go knocking the program.” He looked at me with raised eyebrows, trying to convey his simple, dishonest frankness to everyone in the room.
“I am perfectly happy!” I snapped before I realized what I was doing. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. Little bastard.
The room fell quiet.
Kesselring smiled toward our Chinese guests. “Let’s move onto the next topic, shall we?”
Everyone nodded.
“So you all have the information about pushing the Infinixx launch ahead of the pssi launch. Who would like to open the discussion?”