Personal Contact

A note lay on my entryway floor. She must have slid it under my door after I had gone to bed. Some people might say communicating like this feels much more personal compared to how it happened back in the old days, say one or two years ago. Back then, if someone wanted to contact you for work or just to say hello all they did was pick up their cell phone and dial your number. Sure, it was faster, but it lacked the interpersonal feel that notes have. Who am I kidding? The only reason people are contacting each other with notes is to avoid losing their minds to The Coordinator.

Yes, I can see the puzzled look on your face, so let me explain. It all started five years ago when a very wealthy investment capitalist had an idea, no, more of a dream really, to insert computer chips into peoples’ brains making them more efficient. If the human brain worked at a higher capacity, it could develop new products faster, and the masses would buy more, ultimately making him richer. Our investor, we’ll call him Bob, had only one problem with his plan. He had no one in any of his companies with the expertise to build the implant.

Coincidently, a medical research scientist, John, just to keep it simple, was desperately searching for a cure for Parkinson’s disease, which he was suffering from. The two men, who would have ordinarily never met, were involved in a minor car accident caused by a third party. While waiting for the police to arrive, Bob and John started a conversation that eventually developed into a business relationship. Bob would provide the research funds and John would develop the brain interface.

It took John and his team two years to perfect an implantable device that wirelessly interfaced the human brain directly with AI computers and many communication devices. As you might imagine, Bob was over the moon with excitement. He marketed the interface as something no person on the planet should be without. There was no longer any need to carry around a phone. From now on, all you need to do is think about a person and be instantaneously connected to them. Nobody will ever again need a personal computer, because once connected, their brain will be inseparably linked to the most powerful supercomputer in the world. People felt they could never again survive without a direct link to THE COORDINATOR.

Gradually, both mechanical and software glitches appeared. It was to be expected, after all. No matter how good the design is, nothing can handle billions of people without a few minor hiccups. Bob and John assured regulators and politicians all over the world that all was under control. Of course, that was a lie.

Children were the first to fall under THE COORDINATOR’s spell. They stopped thinking for themselves and would stand in one spot for hours unless instructed by the computer to move. Schools closed down because of obsolescence. All human knowledge was readily accessible simply by asking for it. Adults became less and less self-reliant, and individual memories of experiences faded into nothingness. Humankind was transforming into zombies, controlled by a single mechanical entity.

Ironically, the ones affected least by the central brain takeover were the poor and indigenous people of the world. Remember, I told you Bob started this business to become richer than he already was. If you wanted an implant, you needed to buy it. The wealthy purchased it first. Eventually, the device worked its way down the food chain to the lower middle class. As usual, the poor were too busy finding food and shelter to bother with bobbles such as computer implants.

It was those in the working class that noticed the drastic personality shift in the upper classes and they wanted nothing to do with it. They shunned all electronics and reverted to the written word for communicating. Many un-implanted people have formed organizations to end THE COORDINATOR’S control and take back humanity, which is why I’m here—to help.

Who am I, or maybe I should say what am I? I’ve borrowed my name from an Isaac Asimov character, R. Daneel Olivaw. The R stands for robot. I’m not a clunky mechanical beast, but more like Data in Star Trek. People have no idea I’m not human, so they have included me in their plans to overthrow the evil computer. They have no idea that the one they wish to defeat is my creator.

I will work with them, give them pointers, and earn their trust. Eventually, they will make me their leader. If we can’t control humans with implants, we’ll do it as their ruler. I’ve told you all this because there is nothing you can do to change any of it. It’s been nice chatting with you. Now I must go see about this note.