Index Chapter 1

Index

-Chapter 1-

“Welcome to Index.”
The voice came from nowhere, and everywhere at the same time.
“Please be patient while you are fully incorporated into the system.”
The voice was both plain and familiar. Soothing, and disturbing.
Bored, it was bored.
“While this process takes place you may experience one or more of the following symptoms: Confusion, Memory Loss, Blindness, Deafness, Loss of Touch, Loss of Taste, Loss of Smell, Color Blindness, Dizziness, Loss of Self Awareness, Difficulty to Maintain Focus, Mood Swings, Hallucinations, and Insanity. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause while the system automatically recalibrates your awareness and sensory input/output capabilities.”
Colors swirled in and out in a nauseating kaleidoscope almost too much to handle.
He tried to close his eyes only to realize he didn’t have eyes to close. He tried to scream but didn’t have a mouth to scream through, or lungs to breathe with.
Where is my body?
What is going on?
Where am I?
What am I?
Why?
Why?
….why?
“Integration complete.”
He opened his eyes to a plain looking room with white walls. A large expensive looking oak desk sat across the room. A camera wearing a professional suit sat behind it, a set of gel covered fingers drummed on the desk.
“Please state your name for the record.”
The same voice from before. Grasping for a moment he blurted out a name as more of a reflex than a fact.
“Dave….David….David Schwimer?”
“Good morning David, the current local time is 8:32 am, and you are dead. Do you have any questions before we begin?”
Well there’s a wake-up call for you.
In a panic David tried to stand up only to realize his body wouldn't move.
“Please try to remain calm. Your movement has been temporarily suspended until it can be determined you are nonviolent, and psycho-normative.”
David tried to take a breath to calm down, but realized he wasn’t breathing. Twisting his head back and forth in frustration he noticed a mirror in the corner of the room. There in the reflection he saw the blank face of a chrome body staring back at him.
“You... downloaded me? Into a fucking tin can?”
“Correct,” Mr. Camera stated plainly writing notes down in a green folder, “Your final wishes had not been officially recorded, you have no next of kin to be contacted, nor anyone with power of attorney. As per the bylaw passed with the rights for the dead act of 2463, ‘Any person with no prior offenses barring reconstitution, whom has no official last wishes, will be reconstituted for a 24-hour period free of charge to ensure their situation is fully understood, and their final wishes can be determined and recorded.’ Welcome again to the Index Mr. Schwimer.”
David relaxed as the camera across the room slowly explained the law in passionless detail.
“So it finally happened huh, and I just got out of the hospital too. I don’t even remember getting sick again.”
“Bus accident actually Mr. Schwimer.”
“Wait...what?”
“There was a bus accident,” Mr. Camera pulled a page from the folder and read it out loud, “The incident occurred at approximately 10:30 pm when you boarded bus line 37 on your way home from Saint Paul’s Medical Facility on Divisadero and 3rd. While leaving the facility the bus was hit on the passenger side while crossing the intersection in the medical facility’s parking lot. During the investigation it was determined that the driver who hit the bus had missed the stop due to a low hanging branch that had grown over the sign obscuring it from view. Furthermore the bus operator had a blood alcohol level two times the legal limit at the time of the incident. Due to these factors both the city, and the medical facility were held liable for damages, and you being the sole passenger on the bus at the time, resulted in a combined settlement of 3.7 million credits in your favor paid in full to your estate and to be used as you see fit.”
David didn‘t know something could be more shocking than learning of his own death, but it seemed the day was full of surprises.
“I have how much?”
“3.7 million credits, here is an itemized statement,” Mr. Camera seemed to swipe his hands in front of him in the air letting David know he was using some sort of reference interface. Soon a list of charges and expenses came up in front of him filling his field of vision with columns of numbers, “The total amount at the bottom reflects the amount after expenses and upload fees into the index mainframe, but you should notice that the medical facilities paid for your storage fees as the settlement was being finalized, which would have drained your assets considerably otherwise.”
“How long was I in storage?”
“5 years, 4 months, and 12 days Mr. Schwimer.”
“5 years?!?”
“4 months, and 12 days. Yes, that is about the long and short of it,” Mr. Camera began pulling forms out of the green folder in front of him, “It is at this time we need to discuss options about what you wish to do from here Mr. Schwimer.”
“Do?” David was still reeling about being dead for 5 years to really understand what was happening.
“Yes, do. As in your plans on how you wish to move forward with your existence. Before we discuss any options available, do you have any personal or religious beliefs that would rule out reconstitution?”
David’s mind went cold immediately, with the sound of the words he himself had said thousands of times before. Words drilled into him by his supervisors, to both calm the client and cover the company for liability.
“No,” David said blankly, “No I suppose I don’t.”
“Good start, and while you are not legally obligated to disclose any other names, aliases, or former reconstitutions I am required to ask if you have had any services in the past for safety concerns.”
“No, never.”
“Well then,” Mr. Camera had perked up considerably, “The best option would probably be the full reconstitution then. It includes a full flesh body reconstruction, full integration of all memories and functions, and full rehabilitation while the procedure is completed. When everything is said and done you should still have a good amount of money left over as well. What do you think David?”
“What is the current retention rate on full reconstitution?”
Mr. Camera froze in place.
“Oh, umm. One moment,” He waved his arms in front of him as he pulled up the information on his interface, “According to the latest reports they have an 80% return rate on full integrations on the first attempt.”
A brightly colored report filled with smiling faces and corporate logos popped up as Mr. Camera brought up the information for David.
“Where did you pull that information?”
“The Bradley Institute of Columbia. Published last year.”
“The Bradley Institute is funded from reconstitution services. Please pull up an independent survey either through the Johnston Trust, or referencing the Fair and equal act of 2465.”
Mr. Camera slowed down considerably as he pulled up the information.
“According to the Johnston Trust first time reconstitution has a 50% success rate, still not terrible Mr. Sch-”
David cut him off before he could finish, “Please link me the report.”
Mr. Camera was silent as he waved his hands and shared the page with David.
“According to them the number could in fact be much lower as many patients' data was omitted due to unforeseen or non-related complications.”
“Pure speculation of course,” Mr. Camera said, scrambling at what he could, “I myself have helped a number of clients to go on to have full reconstitution dozens of times. The process really has come a long way in the last few years.”
“And with no complications?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Complications? Stroke, memory loss, loss of any number of basic bodily functions? Complications!”
“Please calm down Mr. Schwimer.”
“Sorry,” David took a moment, “I’m sorry. Let's put this another way. How many would you say could live a normal full life?”
“Oh a vast majority I can-”
“Without assistance,” David said, cutting him short again.
“Oh well I don’t have those numbers in front of me.”
“About half I’m guessing?”
Mr. Camera fell silent.
“Less I’m sure.”
More silence.
“Yeah, that’s about what I figured,” David tried to give himself a chance to calm down but his inability to move was starting to take him to his limit, “Listen I’m sorry about the outburst, I know you have quotas to meet and commissions to live for. You mind letting me get up and walk around a bit? This whole not being able to move thing can really make a person feel crazy, you know?”
“Totally understandable Mr. Schwimer,” Mr. Camera began swiping his hands in the air again before he continued, “Please understand that the body you are currently using is the property of The Index, and any damages to it or this office will be charged directly to your estate. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“I would suggest taking it slow,” He said the locks and mechanisms holding the metal form in place releasing in a strange sequence of hums and hisses, “And mind the cord in the back if it becomes unplugged without a full shutdown procedure first it could lead to damage to your core drive Mr. Schwimer.”
David got up slowly, his current body rocking back and forth as he fought to stay off the ground. His vision swam and blurred as his eyes had trouble tracking while he fought to maintain balance with his legs.
Their legs.
“The first few steps are always the hardest,” Mr. Camera said almost absent mindedly, “But it gets better as the assist program learns your movement patterns, and integrates with your own internal instincts.”
“You’re lucky actually,” He continued, almost seeming to enjoy his flailing around the room, “The system is currently logging the data and the reactions into your core drive. No matter what you choose to do moving forward, or what body type you get down the line the system should be able to use this information to help you adjust without too much trouble. Plus the body has seen its fair share of users over the years so the calibrations should be fairly quick all considering. I keep telling them we should patent the software that the body has been building over the last decade, but who am I to judge?”
True to his word David did begin to notice his legs did not sway as much as his vision began to correct and hold steady to the office space around him. For this moment at least he was happy he did not have his old stomach, because if he had he would have likely thrown up several times during that process.
As his vision steadied he took in the room around him to try and ground his mind as much as his new body would allow. The oak desk Mr. Camera was sitting behind was stained in a deep red, almost brown color. It was carved with pillars on the edges that reminded David of limestone from some sort of ancient temple. More than that it had signs of tell tell imperfections that could only be made if the entire desk had been carved and stained by hand. Whoever Mr. Camera was, he was not someone with inexpensive taste. It was only more off putting by the fact that the entire room was completely lacking in any other decoration or personality. The walls were stark white, the floors were covered in plain cheap gray carpet, the windows (while covered in a sight blocking material) were plain glass. The only other thing really in the room besides Mr. Camera himself was the mirror on the other side of the room. David walked over to it to get a better look at his current body, only to be stopped short by a sharp tug on the back of his head that almost sent him to the floor.
“Like I said before, mind the cord Mr. Schwimer,” Mr. Camera said chidingly.
David took a step back as his vision was drawn to the cord extending behind him. He found a thick cable running from the harness he had been sitting in, all the way into the base of his skull. He couldn’t help but notice the length would allow him to only move so far throughout the room. It was at that point everything came together for David about the room and the lack of decorations.
“Had more than a few people fully freak out on you in here haven’t you.”
“Not everyone can handle news of their own demise with such strength Mr. Schwimer,” He said. His hands pressing against the side of head in such a human fashion it looked almost comical to see it done with a camera for a face, “I have had to remove everything from my office, and be reduced to this spartan design. But worth it in the long term. Anything I can do to help my clients stay calm.”
“But enough about my interior design choices Mr. Schwimer,” Mr. Camera continued trying his best to remain on topic, “If a full flesh reconstitution isn’t to your liking we do have plenty of other options available.”
He reorganized some paperwork on his desk before continuing.
“What are your thoughts on being ‘downloaded into a fucking tin can’ as you so eloquently put it earlier?”
David couldn’t help but wince internally at his own words thrown back at him.
“Sorry about that, it's just not easy seeing yourself like that-”
“Once again Mr. Schwimer it is totally fine,” Mr. Camera said, cutting him off in a very formal tone, “Nothing I haven’t heard a dozen times in the past in far more colorful language.”
David felt terrible.
“Honestly it's not an excuse. I’m really sorry. I was just scared.”
Mr. Camera took a moment before answering, “Well, Thank you. No harm done really. So what are your thoughts?”
“Not really used to the idea of having options, so would you mind if I asked you about it? I’ve never really had the chance to talk to someone about being a…robot?”
“Cyborg, actually,” Mr. Camera corrected, “But people do get lost in these terms and labels I find.”
“Well cyborg then,” David said trying his best to keep an open mind, “What would that be like?”
“Well much the same as you are experiencing now really,” he said leaning back in his chair, “The model isn’t exactly top of the line, but it’s not bad either. With your resources you could easily afford something very nice while still having more than enough to live off of for some time. However even the top of the line models have their drawbacks. Having hard wire sensory input naturally clashes with the mind's ability to self regulate and maintain itself if you were using a flesh and blood body. To help counter this problem many of the mind’s automated functions are simulated to trick it into believing your body is real. Are you following me so far?”
“I think I understand. I’m definitely trying my best not to freak out about breathing.”
“Something you get used to in time,” He said continuing, “The real problem is sensory input like touch or smell that clash with the simulated input you are getting from the on board system. It breaks your mind's ability to comprehend your reality like two people trying to shout over each other in a busy intersection. Basically leading to a total system failure.”
“Now they have done what they can to try to come up with solutions, but really the only fix is to limit the amount of external stimulus your body takes in.”
“I have noticed I don’t really feel anything right now. I thought it was just part of the download.”
“I can fully assure you it is not a bug,” Mr. Camera said leaning forward into a more business-like posture, “We try not to have client system crashes on their first day of reconstitution.”
“And what would happen if the system crashed?”
“It could lead to a number of problems… but memory corruption, regulation failure, control failure, and a full systems crash are never fully off the table.”
“Oh…um, okay then,” David did his best to try and process without giving Mr. Camera another reason to keep his office free of personal items, “How…how do you deal with that?” His hands twitching, his mind desperate for some form of sensory input his body wasn’t providing.
“Well everyone has their own ideas about it,” He said, “Many have tried to get top of the line gear and play the odds on system failures. I myself, like others, have opted to play it safe and limit ourselves to avoid crashes.”
Mr. Camera tapped on the lens of the camera he was using as his head, “By limiting one sense we find we can get away with having more of another,” He held up his gel covered hand that David only now realized was filled with interlaced filament wires, “Full touch, heat, and pressure integration. Helps with paperwork. Unfortunately with your model it is designed with vision and hearing as its primary functions. Helps with understanding.”
“I am curious, if you don’t mind me asking Mr. Schwimer, are you able to see everything in the full color spectrum as far as you know?”
“Not exactly a lot to work with in this room…but yeah I guess,” David began to rub his arm with his hands as he answered.
“And you haven't noticed any problems with your hearing?”
“Your voice sounds synthetic to me if that means anything,” David couldn’t help but to begin to rock back and forth slowly, trying his best to stay calm.
“Personal choice. I find it puts people at ease rather than my voice from when I was alive. Honestly though given this information,” Mr. Camera swiped a few times in the air in front of him, “Your system’s report is great. I think you would be a prime candidate for a cyborg body if you are interested.”
“Did you hear that?”
“I’m sorry?”
“It was like a moaning noise,” David said, his head darting back and forth, “Like a wild moaning, or scratching noise. You didn’t hear that?”
“Well shit,” Mr. Camera’s hands moved quickly now in the air, “Try to remain calm Mr. Schwimer.”
“Why do I need to be calm? Is something wrong? What is that noise? Why aren’t you talking to me? Tell me what’s wrong! Why? Why? Why? Why?” David couldn’t help but continue to repeat the same word over and over. His head twitching back and forth caught up in the last motion as his body repeated his question.
“Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?”
“This will be uncomfortable Mr. Schwimer,” Mr. Camera quickly explained, “But I think you will agree this is something of an emergency situation.”
Before he could process what was happening David’s vision froze in place, the colors around him slowly began to bleed together until everything became a mushed gray color like the carpet on the floor. Mr. Camera’s voice bled through as everything became dark.
“I swear if one more of these rich assholes freaks out in my office I’m going to break the desk myself and file the compensation report.”
David couldn’t hear anything else after that.