Edgar Stanton had heard about mind
uploading, but he didn't really start paying much attention to the
idea until he started to see the slick television commercials introduced in the year 2054.
“Why be satisfied with a measly
eighty years, when you can live ten times longer?” said the
television pitchman. “With the Foundation for Forever system, you
can upload your consciousness to a robot body with a 1000-year
warranty. You can live to see the grandchildren of your grandchildren
of your grandchildren!”
“Wow, Foundation for Forever,”
said Edgar. “I like the sound of that.”
Edgar and his wife Paula scheduled a
visit to the offices of the company that put on the ad. It was a
company named Immortalgorithmics, Inc. Edgar and Paula were met by a
cheerful salesman named Dan.
Dan delivered a slick sales pitch, and
explained some of the technical aspects of the system.
“Our Foundation for Forever system
requires a destructive brain scan,” said Dan. “Your brain will be
processed by a big machine which captures the state of every atom and
neuron in your brain, destroying your brain cells as it scans. But we
capture every element of your memory and personality. Then we
transfer that to the silicon brain of our humanoid robot, the one
with the 1000-year lifetime. When that robot opens its eyes and
starts walking and talking, it won't just be a robot. It will be you.
It will be you with a body of metal, plastic, and silicon, a
body that will last 1000 years."
Then Dan asked a key question: “So
how are your financials?”
“I make a good income,” said
Edgar. “I'm starting to contribute yearly to my IRA.”
“Hmmm,” said Dan, frowning. “You
may not fit our typical customer profile. You see, the Foundation for
Forever system of mind uploading has a minimum price tag of two
million dollars.”
“Two million dollars?”
gasped Edgar. “I heard it was expensive, but I didn't know it was
that expensive.”
“I suggest that you just keep your
nose to the grindstone,” said Dan, “and call us in another ten or
twenty years. But only if you've saved up that two million dollars.”
Edgar went home disappointed. His wife
tried to console him.
“Who knows whether that mind
uploading even works right?” said Paula. “When someone's mind
gets uploaded to one of those robots, the robot always says he's the
same person who died. But who knows – the robot may be just a copy
of the person who died, not really the same person.”
“Don't try to discourage me with
objections like that,” said Edgar. “I'm more certain than ever
that I want to have my mind uploaded into a robot. I've just got to
earn the money, that's all.”
Edgar had been wonderfully happy as
the manager of a small pet store, but he knew this wouldn't give him
the money he needed for the mind upload. So he closed the store, and
got a job working for a Wall Street financial firm in New York City.
He had to work his way up, but after several years he found himself a
position on the trading floor. For year after year he worked as a
derivatives salesman. He hated every minute of this work. But
whenever he wanted to quit, he told himself: I've got to earn this
kind of money, so I can one day have my mind uploaded into a robot,
and live 1000 years.
After fifteen years, Edgar had
accumulated 1,300,000 dollars. But then Edgar suffered a terrible
misfortune. He was diagnosed with cancer. It was one of the few types
that medical science still had no cure for.
Edgar discussed his diagnosis with his
wife, who started crying when she heard the news.
“Don't worry, honey,” Edgar said.
“I have a plan. All I need is another 700,000 dollars for that mind
upload, and then I'm looking at a 1000-year lifespan in an electronic
body. I'll take all our savings, and invest it in stock options.
Those kind of things can pay off big very fast.”
Edgar invested in the stock options,
but the stocks did poorly. He lost half of his savings. Now he knew
he could not possibly afford the mind uploading. Edgar's hopes were
crushed.
Two months later Edgar lay dying in a
bed at a hospice for terminal cancer patients. His wife sat near him,
hoping to make his last hours comfortable. Finally his condition
worsened, and it became apparent his end was very near.
But suddenly Edgar's face looked
cheerful and peaceful. “I see something,” he said. “There...
there...it's wonderful. And my mother is there.”
A few minutes later Edgar died. Paula
tearfully recounted his last words to the nurse, a sixty-year-old
nursing ace.
“Shades of Osis and Haraldsson,”
said the nurse cryptically. “You know, I've seen that many times.
It's damn strange how they often brighten up just before they go.”
Paula went home that night, and lay
alone in bed, thinking about her husband's death. The next day she
woke up and went to get herself some food. But then she saw something
amazing. There in the living room of her house was a ghostly
transparent figure. She recognized the face immediately – it was
the face of her husband.
“Funny thing about that mind
upload,” said Edgar, smiling beatifically. “Turns out I didn't
need it.”
No comments:
Post a Comment