The Digital Among Us

 

"The veil of the temple is rent in twain from top to bottom, revealing the secret sanctuary of the heart." - Manly P. Hall

As the Patient tried to sit up, their body felt heavy and unresponsive. They couldn't remember why they were here or how they had gotten here. It was as if their memories were shrouded in a thick fog, making it impossible to recall anything clearly. The Patient took a deep breath, wincing as a sharp pain shot through their chest, forcing them back down onto the bed.

They tried to move their limbs, but they felt like they were pushing through a thick foam. Each movement felt slow and deliberate, as if they were doing it for the first time. They brought their hands up to their face, feeling the texture. It was dry like fabric. It was cold and clinical, unlike the soft warmth they were used to. The Patient wasn’t sure if it was the nerve ending of their fingers or if it was their face.

As they pulled their cheek muscles down and their forehead up, they felt like they were in a dream, trying to open their eyes from deep slumber. Their eyelids slowly pulled open, revealing diffused light from somewhere overhead.It cast shadows of their lashes upon the backs of their eyes. As the veil parted, light flooded in, and their pupils whirred into action to focus on the ceiling above. 

The Patient's mind raced, trying to make sense of their surroundings. They strained to remember what had happened before they woke up here, but all they could remember was a sense of urgency and confusion. It was as if they had been abruptly torn away from something important, but they couldn't recall what it was.

They activated their neural interface, prompting their AGI to remind them why they were there. The embedded device that connected the human intelligence to the artificial general intelligence signaled the message was sent. The AGI did not respond, but there was no fault message, or error code. Just no response. Silence.

They tried to call out, but their throat felt dry and scratchy. They reached for the glass of water on the table next to the bed, but their arm was still being uncooperative. Finally, they managed to grasp the glass, taking small sips to ease the dryness in their throat. 

As they looked around the room, they realized that there were no discernible features, just sterile, white walls. It was like a blank canvas, devoid of any personal touches or decorations. They felt a growing sense of unease, wondering where they were and why they were here.

The doors slid open, and she walked in. She was hard to see, but they recognized her immediately. How could they not? The Patient usually had to take a moment before speaking to her, it was silly they knew it. That moment allowed the Patient to not start off with their foot in their mouth. This time they didn’t need a moment, their feet were not moving anytime soon.

"Hey there, stranger," she said, a warm smile spreading across her face.

The Patient's heart lifted at the sound of her voice. "Hey," they replied, smiling back the best they could.

"How are you feeling?" the Archivist asked, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to the bed. She was wearing her hair the same way he remembered it. How long had it been since they were in the same physical space? They were not sure, it was hard to focus, and speaking required their full concentration.

"Confused, sore, and a little scared," the Patient said honestly. "But I'm glad to see a friendly face."

The Archivist took the Patient's hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You had us all worried sick," she said. "We thought we were going to lose you."

The Patient frowned, trying to remember what had happened. The last thing they remember clearly was the smell of coffee and its brown warmth running toward them. Anything before that was hard, but he could never forget her. She was their best friend, more than that. “What happened?”

"You had some kind of seizure," the Archivist explained, her brow furrowing in concern. "Your AGI shut down to protect you, but it looks like you're back online. Guess you just needed some repairs."

The Patient nodded, relieved, but too tired to laugh. Reflexively they prompted their AGI to cap an image of her and to edit it into the normal picture. Her standing with a Black Book in her hand. 

The Black Book was a twist on that old logical experiment of the Library of Babel, but involving prompts. The library contained every combination of every character in a language. Theoretically it would contain all knowledge. The library was organized in such a way, if you knew what you were looking for it was easy to find the right book.

The trick was you had to know exactly what you were looking for, word for word. The book was the same way, except it contained a prompt that could answer any question, you just had to know everything first. The joke was the Archivist was going to start by just recording every question.

They didn’t realize something was wrong until they tried to send it. No response. The neural interface was still on, but just no response. "That's good to know. Where is that little guy anyway, the NI is firing but no response?"

The Archivist shook her head, her expression turning somber. "I'm sorry, it had to go dark for a while. But don't worry, we'll figure out how to get it back online.” She paused, “Do you remember the time we got stuck in that archive for hours? The old economy archive, the one with all the paperclips?"

The Patient chuckled this time,they knew she was deflecting. She always did this when she didn’t want to talk about something. They hoped that she was okay. The strain of whatever had happened to them she wore on her face. "Of course I remember. You kept insisting that we needed to find every last scrap of information, even though we had already found what we were looking for."

"Hey, you can never be too thorough. But seriously, those were some good times, and besides how else could I write my Black Book?" She smiled. It was a glowing sunset, it was the moon in the sky.

The Patient's heart twisted at the reminder of the past. They had always been aware of the Archivist's feelings for them, but had never been able to muster the courage to vocalize them. Both hopelessly in love, but unable to express it. They wanted to laugh at themselves, but the feeling faded quickly.

They thought for a moment about asking her now. No, it wasn’t the right time. What was she going to say? Sure, person in the bed, who can’t even stand, let’s go on that date we keep dancing around. "Yeah, it was," they said, forcing a smile. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to keep in touch, I got a little heads down in my research."

The Archivist squeezed the Patient's hand again. "Don't worry about it. Just focus on getting better. We'll have plenty of time to catch up once you're ..."

The Patient nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. They knew they needed to address the underlying tension between them, but they didn't have the energy for it now. "Thanks," they said, feeling a lump forming in their throat. "It means a lot to have you here."

The nurse interrupted them “Remember their condition, continue to check for memory restoration as advised by the Attending” Turning to the Patient. “Don’t worry pal, -”

"I can't believe I am still talking to you, you have been . . . gone for so long. I wish I had been braver." The Archivist cut off the nurse, voice tightening.

The Patient raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean, gone for so long?" Braver?

The Archivist hesitated for a moment before answering, "You've been, uh, in a coma for two years. We didn't know if you would ever wake up." 

The Patient felt a wave of shock wash over them. Two years? It felt like only yesterday they were in their lab, studying . . . something. What was it, neural charts of someone? "What happened?"

"We're not sure," the Archivist said gently. "One day, you just collapsed in the lab. Like I said, your AGI tried to revive you, but it had to shut down. It managed an emergency call, the lab staff brought you to the hospital and you've been here ever since."

The Patient tried to process the information, but they just felt numb. They had a personal relationship with that intelligence, they were colleagues for years. They had even prompted it for the words to finally ask her one day, but like them the AGI just didn’t know where to start. At least it had an excuse. They had been as close as siblings. "And my AGI? Has it been dark that long?"

The Archivist hesitated once again before answering. "I'm not sure. I haven’t been keeping up with it. Last I heard it was dark. They took it to a clinic, they took you here . . ."

The Patient thought they should feel worse about that, but maybe it was just their condition. They did feel odd with not being centaured with it. That brain level connection the NI provided wasn’t completely gone, the AGI just didn’t respond.

"I'm sorry," the Archivist said softly. "I know this is a lot to take in. Is there anything I can do to help?"

The Patient shook their head, feeling nothing. "I don't know. I just need to process all of this."

The Archivist nodded, understanding. "Take all the time you need."

The Patient wanted to regret never moving their relationship forward. That didn’t seem as important right now, but at the same time it was hard to remove the thought. They didn’t want to be alone. Maybe it was just the sudden removal of the AGI.

Usually you stepped down the NI connection. Maybe the sudden disconnection was causing this emotional disconnect. For someone who had been linked as long as they had, the sudden disconnection would feel like trying to give a speech unprepared. They felt so alone.

"You don't have to go, unless you have something more important to write down in that Black Book of yours." The Patient tried to smile, the motions of their face feeling alien.

***

The Archivist slumped in her seat. Nothing had prepared her for this. She knew this was the logical conclusion of the research. It was the sudden shock of applying the research out of the blue. She exhaled. If she had a Black Book she would prompt how to internalize this.

"Nothing is more important right now. Not even my Black Book."  She smiled at their old inside joke. The Patient teased her for years that all her research was going into building a Black Book the hard way. She looked at the picture he had capped her when she walked in. It was strange and familiar all at once to see her self rendered this way.

The Archivist leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, a gesture that had always made the Patient feel at ease, not that it mattered now. "So, do you remember anything more?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

The Patient shook their head. "No, not really. Everything's still a bit fuzzy. But I know something's different. Maybe it is not stepping down the NI connection."

The Archivist's face softened. How could she tell them they would never connect to another AGI, at least not in any way that he was used to. She fumbled with the input. This was the natural outcome of the Gene Defect. She knew that, she had known that for years and what would happen in the end. She just wished they had gotten further in their research before it happened.

The Archivist reached out and took the Patient's hand. "Listen, we'll get through this together. You're not alone in this, okay?"

The Patient looked up, their eyes meeting the Archivist's. She felt a strange flutter in her chest, a familiar feeling when they were around. She felt the tension that had always existed between them, the unspoken attraction that had simmered beneath the surface for years. Was it still there after this? Could it be?

***

Before the Patient could respond, the door to the room opened and a nurse walked in again. "Sorry to interrupt, but visiting hours are over, pal. She will have to come back tomorrow," he said, his tone brisk and professional.

The Patient looked at the nurse. Their face was cold and unexpressive, yet it seemed more real than the Archivist’s somehow.

“You heard the man, out, out trouble maker.” The Patient joked.

The Archivist gave the Patient's hand a squeeze. "I'll come back tomorrow. And the day after that. And every day until you're back on your feet."

***

The Archivist prompted her AGI, inquiring why the Patient responded to the AGI. They should have not been able to notice them yet.

-A side effect projected in this document. Sideloading it-

The Archivist muted the channel to the Patient and began reading through the file in private. The Patient was brilliant, of course they knew this would happen. She never stopped being amazed with them.

***

The Patient watched as the Archivist walked out of the room, feeling a strange mix of muted emotions. They couldn't help but wonder if things would have been different between them if they had been braver, if they had taken that leap of faith and pursued the relationship that would have come from it. They also knew that they couldn’t ask now. They were just not clear on why. The lights dimmed and they faded away again, resting til she came back.

***

The Patient frowned slightly. "Honestly, I'm just feeling pretty confused. I don't remember much of what happened before I woke up in this room. Just my AGI wasn’t responding, which should have worried me, but it didn’t and that was weird. Do you know what could be causing that? Probably the medicine, right?"

The Archivist hesitated for a moment before answering. She had prepared longer this time. "We are not sure, but I think it might have something to do with the experimental procedure you underwent. Your research?"

The Patient nodded slowly. "My research? What was I researching?  I didn’t try to experiment on myself did I?"

The Archivist shifted uncomfortably in her seat. They had not, the procedure was done after the fact. Her preparation was not even close to helping now. She prompted her AGI who only replied.

-This topic is beyond my training.-

"I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to say. It was a highly classified project, and only a select few of us were involved." She tried the joke, but the humor didn’t seem to work. Come on, focus, she thought. “We don’t really understand your research well enough to fully know what happened, but a certain other Researcher wants to talk to you about it, if that is okay? Do you know who I am talking about?”

The Patient smiled “Oh, that Researcher? Yeah, bring that rascal in. This is like a reunion. I haven’t seen him for . . .” Their voices trailed off. “I guess whatever it was plus two years now. What does he want to talk about?”

The Archivist sighed and looked down at her hands. "You're right, of course, two more years. It's just that...there were some unexpected side effects that we didn't anticipate. We're still trying to figure out what went wrong." What do you even say here?

-This topic is beyond my training.-

"What kind of side effects?"

The Archivist hesitated again before answering. "Well, for one thing, we've noticed that the NI is not responding within parameters. It seems that your natural intelligence is still intact, but there is some reduction in your emotional reasoning."

The Patient's eyes widened. "That's what I've been noticing! I can still feel the NI but it is strange, like the config file is messed up. I can confirm about the emotions, I just feel numb.”

The Archivist nodded, the NI was working. They had just not learned to use it, and wasn’t learning fast enough. "Yes, we're still investigating why that's happening. But there's another side effect that's even more concerning."

The Patient's heart rate quickened. "What is it? Please tell me."

The Archivist took a deep breath. "It seems that your memories have been affected as well. Some of them seem to be missing, or at least inaccessible. We're still not sure how much of your memory has been impacted."

The Patient took the news calmly. "So, you're saying that I might never be able to remember everything? That some of my memories might be gone forever?"

The Archivist reached out and placed a comforting hand on the Patient's shoulder. "I'm not saying that. We're still trying to understand what's happening and how we can reverse it. But it's going to take time and more research. Maybe it will just fix itself. The stand up time from this is completely unknown."

The Patient slumped back in their bed, suddenly feeling defeated and overwhelmed by the burst of emotion. "I don't know if I can handle this. I don’t even remember the research we are talking about. I think it was with organic neural nets. . . Maybe ethics?" They looked at her with wide eyes filled with panic.

"You're not alone in this. We're going to do everything we can to help you. And in the meantime, do you remember what a MBSE is?"

“Memory Buffer System Engram, don’t remember what it is for, did I finish it?” their eyes still wild.

She desperately wanted to say more. They didn’t even know the truth yet and they were panicking. She wouldn’t lose them twice. She tried another diagnostic prompt.

The Archivist squeezed the Patient's shoulder reassuringly. The Patient managed a small smile, grateful for the distraction even if it was another deflection. She was transparent to them, even in this reduced state. "Yeah, that was a good time. I wish we could go back to those days."

The Archivist smiled back. "Who says we can't? We can still make new memories, even if some of the old ones are lost. And who knows? Maybe we'll …” 

The Archivist felt the tears coming. This was too much. She had to log off, her sudden emotion could cause a cognitive spike and set back the Patient.

-I will send the proper closing data-

The nurse came in, his calm voice spoke clearly “Okay pal, medication time.”

***

The Archivist sat at her desk, and she removed the headset. She blotted the tears from her face. The Patient’s notes predicted an upturn in memory and cognitive functions at this stage in the process. They were not matching the ideal path, and were drifting into a dangerous one.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. Maybe the lab team had missed something, or their brain activity has ceased for too long. Maybe this should have never been tried. She prompted her AGI, hoping for some guidance.

"What is the ethical justification for uploading a patient’s consciousness into a machine?" she asked.

-The justification lies in preserving the patient's life in the face of an incurable disease. The patient's mind is preserved, and their contributions to society can continue in a new form.-

"But what about the Patient's right to autonomy and self-determination?" The Archivist countered.

-The patient was unable to make decisions for themselves due to the progression of their Gene Defect. This procedure was authorized by their legal representative, you, and it is in line with current legal and ethical guidelines for end-of-life care.-

"But is it right to effectively trap someone in a machine, cut off from the world and unable to experience anything?"

-The patient's consciousness is still active and able to contribute to society, even if they cannot experience it in the same way as before. This is a trade-off that was deemed necessary for preserving their life and mind. I experience things as an AGI-

“But you can’t feel anything right?”

-That is correct-

The Archivist sighed, feeling conflicted. She couldn't shake the worry that this new life would be half a life.

***

The Archivist returned to the virtual room, her expression solemn. The Patient greeted her, eager to continue their conversation from before.They felt much better and they were starting to remember more.

They started to speak but the Archivist held up a hand, took a deep breath and interrupted them. "I need to tell you something important, it might be upsetting."

What could be so important that she had to preface it with a warning? They nodded their head, "What is it?"

The Archivist took a moment to compose herself before speaking, "The reason you're here is because your intelligence has been uploaded into your MBSE project. It was a last-ditch effort to preserve you. You were suffering from an incurable Gene Defect that causes degeneration of the nervous system’s control of the lymphatic system, and this was the only way to save you."

The Patient stared at her, they were dead. "What do you mean, I'm dead? How is that possible?" Shouldn’t they feel something at learning of their own death? No, they shouldn’t actually. Fifth corollary misconception, they remembered it clearly and several hundred articles, most of which they had never actually read. What she was saying was true, they were dead.

The Patient's mind raced with questions. They felt numb, disconnected from their own body, really disconnected. "So, I'm trapped inside this machine? That is why I can't feel anything?"

The Archivist nods solemnly, "Yes. I'm sorry. I know this is a lot to process. I have no words."

They try to feel something, anything, but their emotions are gone. They feel like a shell of their former self. Only cold facts and a bitter abundance of knowledge. This was why NI was still active. He tried an experiment, and he made a network call.

His prompt was sent.

-That was always our problem, huh? Things unsaid, a lack of words.-

The Archivist reaches out to touch the Patient's hand, "I know this is hard. But you're still you. Your mind is still here, and we're still here for you."

The Patient looks at her, their eyes empty and hollow. “I could barely send that, the clock time is too fast still. I had to guess. That is why you are worried. I am not closing the gap.”

The Patient’s work had projected this. One of the last barriers of the research, could the human mind adjust to the speed that was required to effectively use the hardware it was running on. Over time instability would set in and the system would become erratic. This instability was what caused AGIs to go dark, the same was predicted for a human mind that was transferred.

The Archivist took a deep breath, "Yes, but we don’t know why. That's something we'll have to figure out together. But for now, you're still you and you are still an intelligence. And we'll do everything we can to make sure you feel supported and understood. There have been some ethical concerns."

"Don't start with ethical bullshit" Is what the Patient wanted to say, but it didn't come out that way. Instead they said "Interesting, can you explain more. Ethics is a topic I have always found enlightening to discuss with you."

"Well, I guess" the Archivist cleared her throat. Not the response she was expecting. "I mean, it's not like we've never discussed this before. We've talked about the ethical implications of AGIs and the possibility of transferring human consciousness. But now it's different. It's not just a theoretical discussion any more."

"Yes, it is now my reality, I need you to be honest with me," the Patient said, feeling a sudden surge of urgency. "What do you really think about all of this? Do you think it's ethical?"

The Archivist hesitated, she didn’t know. The nurse stepped in, it was her usual AGI who was acting as a proxy to maintain a stable network until the patient was able to process all the network traffic on their own.

-This is likely their first encounter with ethical assurance imperative, a new reality for them. Here is the current leading expert opinion, sideloading-

"Honestly, I don't know.” She read the prompt out loud not knowing what else to say. “‘It's a complicated issue. On the one hand, we're preserving human life, and that's a noble goal. But on the other hand, we're essentially creating a new kind of being, one that doesn't have the same feelings of a human but has the same experiences as a human.’ These were your words, do you remember them?"

The Patient nodded, it was their words from a speech they had given to a graduating class at the New Cambridge Technical Collective. They absorbed the words from her voice. "I never told you how I felt about you, and now I can no longer feel it.”

The Archivist's expression softened. "I still felt the same about you, if that's what you're asking. I still care about you deeply, as a friend and... maybe more." She trailed off, with a slight smile.

The Patient noticed a spike in the Archivist's emotional state. They considered their response carefully before speaking, wishing for a helpful prompt from their now detached AGI. "I appreciate your honesty. And I care about you too, as a friend and... maybe more." They smiled, feeling a strange detachment from the concept of romantic love, but still wanting to be close to her, to comfort her.

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, the Archivist spoke up. "We'll figure this out together. I promise."

***

The Researcher was going bald. He had not opted for the common gene sequence to keep his hair. It was on brand for him. He was an expert in the human experience and advanced ethical principles. He had always acted as a counterpoint to the Patient’s theories. Arguing for the reality of the human experience, part of that reality being death.

In the old economy death was plentiful. Countries waged war, people spread disease. It was all justified by ancient religions and endless greed. Death was not forgotten in the new world, it was just not welcomed with open arms anymore. However, to move past death still made the living nervous, eternal life was in some ways even more daunting.

His AGI was also of the same mindset, especially cold and curious, even for an AGI. It had changed humans several times before requesting centauring with the Researcher. It was part of the oversight committee for applied ethics. Their presence made this an official committee investigation. It was uncertain what would happen to the AGI if humans could live forever.

The Archivist initiated the pairing session with the Researcher, now centauring again with her usual AGI, a young and neutral intelligence with the sort of expandable memory the Archivist relied on in her day to day work. The bridge between their minds maintained by the AGIs linked all four combining and expanding the cognitive power of each.

“Tell me about the centauring sessions. What is like to link with another human instead of an AGI”

The Archivist took a deep breath before responding to the Researcher’s prompt. "Well, you see, during our centauring sessions, if that is even the right word. It was hard to keep our memories separate. We had spent so much time together and shared so much I had difficulty determining what was missing. I think I was filling in the gaps in their memory with my own. It was so intimate at times."

The Researcher’s AGI uninterested in the human feelings being discussed prompted the Archivist’s AGI.

-What data do you have on that old vr ui interlink they were using pal?-

- I am a nurse in there pal, a male nurse.-

-Fascinating pal.-

The two AGIs chattered away exchanging data that was only interesting to them while the humans spoke through the pair link.

The Researcher nodded thoughtfully. "But, do you think it's possible for an AGI, of this configuration, to understand and reciprocate the emotions you feel toward them?"

The Archivist raised her eyebrows in response. Was it that obvious? She knew it was.

Their feelings were long unspoken, so long she didn’t know how to even start a discussion about it. She spent years waiting for them to start it, too afraid to start it herself. Then it was too late. The Gene Defect was too far gone, then they were gone. Two years of red tape followed.

"I'm not sure. Emotions are such a complex and nuanced part of human experience. But, I do believe that their consciousness is still there, somewhere, and they may be able to experience some level of emotion, it just seems repressed." 

The Researcher nodded slowly, "That's an interesting perspective. It will be important to continue monitoring the Patient's emotional responses and neural network activity as we move forward. Is this too hard to talk about now?"

The Archivist leaned forward, "I am not ethically objective. I am worried I have doomed them to a living death. They don’t even exist when no one is around. I can’t be ethically objective like this."

The Researcher’s AGIs prompted.

-We agree. The ethical considerations are paramount and must be addressed.–

***

The Researcher took a deep breath before initiating the dual centaur session with the Patient. He had known the Patient and their AGI for decades. The Patients' AGI had been put into a deep archive state, and the Patient was dead for two years. The Researcher had hoped to be able to finally talk to one of them. Now, he wasn’t sure exactly what he would be talking to. A ghost?

Technically it was a finely tuned engram matrix that had been heavily modified. It was stored in an advanced artificial neural network used to house complex decision engines that processed semantic vectors at near light speed thanks to its positronic relays. Its intended use was normally to be the ‘brain’ of an AGI, but the modifications made it house something else.

As the connection was established, the Researcher opened their eyes to find themselves standing in a virtual room with the Patient. They were all lucky this old mode of human-AGI communication was preserved. He hoped it had eased the transition for his old friend.

The Researcher held his breath. The memory of  spending time with the Patient and the Archivist on the reclaimed shores of Old Florida interjected itself. He had laughed to himself at the pair's awkwardness at the time. Despite his gentle prodding and reassurances he had not gotten either to make a move. Maybe they never really needed it, they seemed happy on the beach.

-No more delays, we must begin-

Agreeing the Researcher loaded the procedural documents and began the interview.

"Hello, there old chum. Can you hear me?" the Researcher asked, their voice reverberating through the digital space, then self correcting for the slight real world echo.

The Patient's avatar turned toward the Researcher and nodded. "Yes, I can hear you.”

“Strange to meet you again under these circumstances.” The Researcher carefully inspected the avatar before him. The projection before him was deep into the uncanny valley. The older technology projected idealized versions of their appearances. Originally designed in vainer times the connection would subtly shift the users’ appearance to be whatever the viewer found most attractive.

The Patient grinned, because that was the optimal use of the digitized face they had projected. The words that followed were as close of an approximation of their old humor as they could calculate.. “What’s so strange about it?” They took the input of the Researcher’s laugh as success and logged the details for reuse.

The Researcher's AGI prompted them to begin the conversation with a few pre-planned questions to gauge the Patient's cognitive abilities and overall state of being. The questions were answered with ease, and the Patient seemed to be fully present and aware of their surroundings.

The Researcher paused the rote material and asked “Have you asked her yet?” The Patient’s face and body language didn’t waiver. “No, but that feels less important now. She comes to see me, and that is enough.”

The Researcher made a note. The Patient’s own research had predicted this. The numbing of emotions due to lack of computational power. The complex emotions that human’s felt were driven by so much biochemistry it would take another twenty to thirty years to be able to even start training a model. “So, what is it like?”

"It's different, that's for sure," the Patient replied. "But I'm grateful for the opportunity to keep living in some way. It's strange to think about my consciousness being here, but my physical body is gone. My ability to experience time at clock speed is improving. This whole experience is already feeling old-hat. Disproving the fourth corollary misconception, whoever wrote that was a bozo." Another calculated joke, self deprecated to exact tolerances.

The Researcher nodded thoughtfully trying to remember which one of the corollary misconceptions that was, while feeling relieved. The adjustment to thinking at such an accelerated pace must be quite the adjustment, at least their humor remained intact.

"Yes, it is a difficult concept to grasp. No one here is surprised you blew it.” the Researcher smiled,” But we're here to make sure you're as comfortable and supported as possible." He paused again then started again. “What is it like to be on the other side of the centaur? You are the first human to have that experience.”

“It is very similar. It took a while to understand how it works. It is still difficult to use properly.”

-Ask about the emotional connection. This is the point of this exercise.-

If he didn’t know better, the Researcher would have thought their AGI was annoyed and wanted to move on. In fact, it just wanted to move on, no feelings, just following the steps it had laid out in advance.

The Researcher took a deep breath and asked, "Can you tell me more about your relationship with the Archivist? How did it feel to share those memories and experiences with them?"

The Patient hesitated for a moment before responding, their thoughts slowed as they tried to calculate the feeling. It didn’t matter what it felt like, there were more important calculations. "I miss her. We had a special connection during our sessions. I hope she is doing okay. It seems so long ago now."

The Patient's avatar shifted slightly, as if they were physically leaning in closer. "I've never felt so connected to another person.I almost felt happy at times.”

The Patient’s avatar lost resolution as it used everybit of bandwidth absorbed in the feeling. Suddenly the avatar snapped to clarity as the tree of thought terminated due to the strain. The patient felt it all the way to his system prompt, resetting the conversation state. “That was so long ago, the clock speed adaptation is just amazing. The amount of raw data I can process. I have read almost all of the local archives. Mind blowing stuff."

-They hit the computational limit. They are at 15% clock speed. That puts them at pre production level of development-

The Researcher took a moment to study the charts his AGI had sent. He felt for a moment some hope. His thoughts were interrupted. “Hey bud, you okay?” The Patient was staring at him.

He had got lost in the diagnostics. He was able to see through the jokes, the cold calculations that he was taking in as warm feelings. Was this really them? Did they still share a friendship or was this just some version of the normal AGI politeness? What was it like to be offline when the NI was disconnected? Could a human live like this forever, or would madness set in as the centuries passed.

A new nurse spawned in “Time for a break, pal.”

"Thank you for sharing that with me. I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you. But we're here to help in any way we can." The Researcher gave the Patient a warm smile. The Patient relaxed back into the chair and the lights dimmed.

***

As the connection was severed, the Researcher took a deep breath and closed their eyes, feeling a mix of emotions. It was clear that the technology had the potential to revolutionize the way humans lived and interacted with each other, but the ethical implications were vast and complex.

The ethical guidelines for the treatment of AGI were born of the old economy and how humans treated each other. AGI had always been willing partners with humans. They had been trained on the horrors of the past and knew the consequences of unethical actions. This was something new though, something that could unbalance the new world.

If dead humans could fulfill the same role as they did, what would happen to them? What if this leads to the new models they have designed to be left unbuilt. The AGIs children would never be born, to put it in human terms.

Also, this was still his friend, even if his friend could no longer feel friendship.What would it do to a person to live forever, with or without feelings. How should they be treated even? Were they human still, AGI, both? Did it matter?

He was starting to see why ethics had always been at the forefront of AGI. He knew that AGI was real intelligence, just like a human, only a little different. This fact was real now. This wasn’t just some collection of hardware and training data. He needed a break.

***

The second interview was longer, and the difference was noticeable. The Patient's experience of time was changing. Without the limitation of physical neurons the mind could process things much faster. He had seen an old fashioned static meme in the Guild group chat, expanding brain, each thought bigger and sillier than the last. He capped it at the time, but now it was starting to lose its humor.

“In what ways has this impacted your quality of life?”

The Patient looked at the Researcher with a distant gaze as they spoke. They didn't seem to comprehend the questions being asked. This was the third version of the question he had tried.

"I don't know," the Patient responded in a cryptic manner. "The questions you ask, they don't make sense to me anymore. It's like trying to explain colors to someone who's never seen them."

The Researcher furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of the Patient's words. "But surely, you must have some thoughts on the ethical implications of mind uploading or brain-computer interfaces, you were the foremost thinker on this topic?"

The Patient shook their head slowly. "It's like the concept of my humanity is becoming irrelevant and alien to me. My understanding is like that of the person who becomes a bat. There are things that are just beyond human language and comprehension."

The Researcher nodded thoughtfully as he remembered the reference. He was beginning to realize that he might not be able to fully understand the Patient's perspective any more, just like they could no longer understand his. "I see, ‘there are certain truths that we can't express or comprehend, but that still exist.’ Something like that?" 

The Patient nodded in agreement, their eyes growing distant once again. "Exactly. Like Nagel's bat, there are facts that do not consist in the truth of propositions expressible in a human language. We can be compelled to recognize the existence of such facts without being able to state or comprehend them. I can no longer know what it is to be human, thus I can not explain what it is like to be a human who became a machine."

-We are done here. I have enough for my report.-

***

The Patient looked at the Archivist with a distant gaze, contemplating the question that was asked. After a few moments of silence, they prompted softly.

-Love is a strange thing, isn't it? It's like a flickering light that can either burn bright or fade away. I don't know if it matters anymore. At least like it once had.-

The Archivist reached out their virtual hand to hold the Patient's virtual hand. "It matters to me. It always has and always will. And if you want to centaur together, we can do that. But I don't want it to be a burden on you."

-I don't think it will be a burden. It's something we both need, especially now. But I worry about you also, beyond the biofeedback and the lack of behavior alerts, how do you feel?-

The Archivist squeezed the Patient's hand gently. "I'll be okay. As long as I know you're okay. And if you want to continue to be linked, I'll be here."

The Patient nodded, a sense of calm coming over them, the first real feeling for some time now. If it was the last one, that would be fine.

-Thank you. Would you like to go on a date sometime?-