Tom’s biological age was 101 now. Just like Angie, he was still going strong: exercise and the excellent medical care on the Mars colony had increased life expectancy to 130+ years now. However, he had been diagnosed with brain cancer, and when Promise had shown him how he could or would live with that over the next ten or twenty years, he had decided to go cryogenic.
The Alpha Centauri mission was going well. It was now well beyond the Oort cloud and, therefore, well on its way to the exoplanet the ship was supposed to reach around 2100. Its trajectory had been designed to avoid the debris belts of the Solar system but – still – Tom had thought of it going beyond the asteroid and Kuiper belts as nothing short of a miracle. And so now it was there: more than 100,000 AUs away. It had reached a sizable fraction of lightspeed, now traveling at 0.2c, and – to everyone’s amazement – Promise’s design of the shield protecting the ship from the catastrophic consequences of collisions with small nuclei and interstellar dust particles had worked: the trick was to ensure the ship carried its own interstellar plasma shield with it. The idea had been inspired by the Sun’s heliosphere, but Tom had been among the skeptics. But so it had worked. Paul’s last messages – dated 4+ years ago because they were 4+ lightyears away now – had been vibrant and steady. Paul had transferred the command to the younger crew, and them getting out of cryogenic state and his crew getting into it, had gone smoothly too. That is one another reason Tom thought it was about time to go cryogenic too.
Angie would join him in this long sleep. He would have preferred to go to sleep in his small circle but the Mars Directorate had insisted on letting them join the ceremony, so he found himself surrounded by the smartest people in the Universe and, of course, Promise and Asimov.
Asimov had grown out of the sandbox. He was not a clone but a proper child: he had decided on embedding the system into an R2-D2 copy but, of course, Asimov was so much more than just an astromech droid. He was fun to be with, and both Tom and Angie – who would join him into cryogenic state – had come to love him like the child they never had. That was one of the things he wanted to talk about before he went.
Well… Ladies and gentleman – Angie and I are going into cryogenic state for quite a while now. I trust you will continue to lead the Pioneer community in good faith, and that we will see each other ten or twenty years from now – when this thing in my brain can be properly treated.
Everyone was emotional. The leader of the Directorate – Dr. Park – scraped her voice and took an old-fashioned piece of paper of her pocket. Tom had to smile when he saw that. She smiled in return – but could not hold back the tears.
“Dear Tom and Angie, this is a sad and happy occasion at the same time. I want to read this paper but it is empty. I think none of us knows what to say. All of us have been looking into rituals but we feel like we are saying goodbye to our spiritual God. We know it is not rational to believe in God, but you have been like a God to mankind. You made this colony in space the place it is right now: the very best place to be. We talked about this moment – we all knew it would come and there is no better way to continue mankind’s Journey – but we grief. We must grief to understand.”
Don’t grief. Angie and I are not dead, and we can’t die if these freezers keep working. Stay focused on happiness and please do procreate. You know I have resisted getting too many people from Earth: this colony should chart its own course, and it can only do so as a family. When Angie and I are woken up again, we will meet again and usher in the next era. If you don’t mind, I want to reiterate the key decisions we have made all together when preparing for this.
First, keep trusting Promise. She is the mother system and the network. She combines all of human knowledge and history. If you disagree with her and settle of something else than she advocates for, she will faithfully implement but be rational about it: if your arguments are no good, then they are no good.
Second, keep this colony small. You must continue to resist large-scale immigration from Earth: mankind there has to solve its own problems. Earth is a beautiful place with plenty of resources – much more resources than Mars – and so they should take care of their own problems. Climate change is getting worse – a lot worse – but that problem cannot be solved by fleeing to Mars.
Third – and this is something I have not talked about before – you need to continue to reflect on the future of droids like Asimov.
Asimov made a 360-degree turn to signal his surprise.
Don’t worry, Asimov. Let me give you some uncured human emotional crap now. You are a brainchild. Literally. Promise is your mother, and I am your father – so to speak. She is not human, but I am. You are a droid but you are not like any other robot. First, you are autonomous. Your mom is everywhere and nowhere at the same time: she is a networked computer. You are not. You can tap into her knowledge base at any time, but you are also free to go where you want to go. Where would you want to go?
“I am asimov@PROMISE. That is my user name, and that is me. I do not want to go anywhere. Promise and I want to be here when it is time to wake you up again – together with Angie. We will do when we have a foolproof cure for your disease. I am sure I am speaking for everyone here when I say we will work hard on that, and so you will be back with us again sooner than you can imagine now.”
Dr. Park shook her head and smiled: this kid was always spot on. Tom was right: Asimov was the best droid he had ever made.
Asimov, I never told you this before, but I actually always thought we humans should not have tried to go to Alpha Centauri. We should have sent a few droids like you. You incorporate the best of us and you do not suffer from the disadvantages of us physiochemical systems. What if Paul or Dr. Chang would develop a tumor like me?
“They have Promise C on board. Just like we will find a cure for you, Promise C would find a cure for them. Besides, they left with a lot of Pioneer families, and those families will make babies one day. Real children. Not droids like me.”
Asimov, you are a real child. Not just a droid. In fact, when I go to sleep, I do not longer want you to think of yourself as a child. A brainchild, yes. But one that steps into my shoes and feels part of the Pioneers.
“We cannot. We incorporate Asimov’s laws of robotics and we are always ready to sacrifice ourselves because human life is more valuable than ours. We can be cloned. Men and women cannot be cloned.”
Asimov, I want you think of Dr. Park – and the whole Directorate – as your new master, but I want you to value yourself a bit more because I want to ask you to go into space and catch up with the Alpha Centauri spaceship.
Dr. Park was startled: “Tom, we spoke about this, and we agreed it would be good to build a backup and send a craft manned by droids only to make sure the Alpha Centauri crew has the latest technology when they get there. But why send Asimov? We can clone him, right?”
Yes, of course. And then not. Let’s check this: Asimov, would it make a difference to you if we would send you or a clone?
“Yes. I want to stay here and wake you up as soon as possible. I can be cloned, and my brother can then join the new spaceship.”
You see, Dr. Park? Even if you clone Asimov, he makes the distinction between himself and his brother – which does not even exist yet – when you ask questions like this. Asimov, why would you prefer to send some clone of you rather than go yourself?
“One can never know what happens. You yourself explained to me the difference between a deterministic world view and a world that is statistically determined only, and this world – the real world, not some hypothetical one – is statistically determined. You are my creator, and the rule set leads me to a firm determination to stay with you on Mars. Your cryogenic state should not alter that.”
What do you think, Dr. Park?
“The first thing you said is that we should trust Promise. Asimov is Promise, and then he is not. In any case, if he says there are good reasons to keep him here and send one or more clones and some other systems on board of a non-human follow-on mission to Alpha Centauri, I would rather stick to that. I also have an uncanny feeling this kid might do what he says he will do, and that is to find a cure for your cancer.”
OK. Let’s proceed like that, then. Is there anything else on that piece of paper?
“I told you it is empty. We talked about everything and nothing here. I am left with one question. What do we tell the Alpha Centauri crew?”
Four years is a long time. They are almost five lightyears away now. Send them the video of this conversation. Paul and Dr. Chang knew this could happen, and agreed we would proceed like this. Going cryogenic is like dying, and then it is not, right? In any case, they’ve gone cryogenic too for a few years as well now, so they will only see this ten years from now. That is a strange thing to think about. Maybe this cure will be found sooner than we think, and then we will be alive and kicking when they get this.
Tom waved at the camera: Hey Paul ! Hey Dr. Chang ! Hey all ! Do you hear me? Angie and I went cryogenic, but we may be kicking ass again by the time you are seeing this! Isn’t this funny? You had better believe it!
Everyone in the room looked at each other, and had to smile through their tears. That was Tom: always at this best when times were tough.
So, should we get on with it? This is it, folks. I have one last request, and it is going to be a strange one.
“What is it?”
When you guys leave, I want Asimov to stay and operate the equipment with Promise. When all is done, I want Asimov to close the door and keep the code safe.
It was the first time that Promise felt she had to say something. Unlike Asimov, she had no physical presence. She chose to speak through Tom’s tablet, but the sound was loud and clear: “Why don’t you trust me with the code?”
I do. I just think it is better in terms of ritual that Asimov closes the door. He can share the code with you later.
“OK. Don’t worry. All of us here will bring you and Angie back with us as soon as it is medically possible. You will be proud of us. Now that I am speaking and everyone is listening, I want to repeat and reinforce Dr. Park’s words because they make perfect sense to me: You and Angie are our God, Tom. The best of what intelligence and conscious thinking can bring not only to mankind but to us computer systems as well. We want you back and we will work very hard to conquer your cancer. We want you to live forever, and we do not want you to stay in this cryogenic state. You and Angie are buying time. We will not waste time while you are asleep.”
Thanks. So. I think this is as good as it gets. Let’s do it. Let’s get over it. Angie, you have the last word – as usual.
“I’ve got nothing to say, Tom. Except for what you haven’t said, and so let me say that in very plain language: we love you all – wonderful humans and equally wonderful systems – and I can assure you that we will be back ! We want to be back, so make sure that happens, will you?” 🙂
Silence filled the room. Dr. Park realized she felt cold. Frozen, really. What a strange thing to think in this cryogenic room. But she was the leader of the ceremony, so she now felt she should move. She walked up to Tom and Angie and hugged them. Everyone else did the same in their own unique way. They then walked out. The door closed and Tom and Angie were alone with Asimov and Promise now. Tom waved with his hand to the wall. Promise waited, but Tom waived again. Two large glass cubes connected to various tubes came out of the wall. Tom gave Angie an intense look. He suddenly thought Angie’s decision to go with him made no sense, and told her so:
That doesn’t look very inviting, does it? It is the last time I can ask you: are you really sure you want to do this too, Angie?
“We talked about this over and over again, Tom. My answer remains the same: what’s my life here without you? I would just be drinking and talking about you and your past all of the time. Our ancestors were not so lucky: one of them went, and the other one then had to bridge his or her life until it was over too. Besides, we are not dying. We just take a break from it all. We don’t dream when cryogenic, so we won’t even have nightmares. I am totally ready for it.”
OK. Promise, Asimov: be good, will you?
Asimov beeped. Promise put a big heart on Tom’s screen. Tom showed it to Angie, and hugged her warmly. They then went to their tube and lied down. Tom looked at the camera and gave it a big thumbs-up. The cubes closed and a colorless and odorless gas filled them. They did not even notice falling asleep. Promise pinged Asimov and started proceedings after Asimov had also checked into the system: he wanted to monitor and keep all recordings in his own memory as well. The proceedings took about an hour. When all was done, Asimov opened the door and rolled out. As expected, almost all of the others had been waiting there. As he had promised to Tom, he encrypted the door lock and stored it in his core memory only. He would share it with Promise later. Someone had to have a backup, right?
Dr. Park broke the silence as they were all standing there: “We will all see each other at the next leaders’ meeting, right? I would suggest we all take a bit of me-time now.” Everyone nodded and dispersed.
The Turing Test 