Chapter 26: The After

... Or not...

Cass had often thought the Waus would be much more effective without Armour, since there could then be more of them—the Armour seemed a cutting-edge construction, built who-knows-where by who-knows-what. She held this perhaps unfounded belief that ordinary little acts of kindness could trickle out and change the world. Thus, without Armour, and without computational power either, she roamed Prospero—by day, fixing injustices with media, courts, corrupt officials, neglectful parents, and oppressed Xenos, and by night, physically hitting cartels where it hurt. Why bother with Armour when a psi-discharge could knock out any criminal anyway?

She was summoned back by an alarm indicating that everything was in place for the Wau to explore the After. Cass returned to the Fortress and donned the Armour. She double-checked that the upload software copied by her AIs at the transfer centers was undetectable. She opened a connection somewhere in a bustling transfer center, like Prospero’s populous sector 88, where crowds settled believing the number would bring them luck.

She laid heavily down in the Dark Unit’s sarcophagus, thinking: Like those uploading themselves, I intend to return. Will I change my mind?

The software activated, and everything went dark.

The darkness and sensory deprivation lasted about fifteen minutes—quite a long time for a fast-moving mind. The most noticeable loss was her psi perception—it was a cold isolation, a powerful silence bringing Cass back to a solitary childhood. Every two minutes, a voice whispered: “Remain calm, the transfer is ongoing and proceeding smoothly.” Inside her Armour, the Wau thought about Star Trek and Theseus.

Then her eyes opened. She was seated on a bench of white marble veined with grey, wearing a light, white and blue tunic that fluttered softly in a delightful breeze. Her bare feet rested on thick grass and warm soil, on a terrace overlooking an island with cypress trees, white square houses, umbrella pines, and, further out, the deep blue sea. Across from her stood a man with the innocent look of a minor movie character, dressed in a velvet jacket. He smiled, waiting for her to do something.

So, this is the After ... She stood up. Her body felt lighter, her heart enthusiastic. Old age, whispered an AI from her Armour millions of light-years away in the server at Earth’s core, was a new youth here.

She approached a bay leaf, vibrantly green. A perfect green, studied for centuries so that merely looking at it made a human brain feel good. She turned to the man, who gazed at her with a silly smile.

“Who are you?” “Welcome, Stella Nori.”

She tilted her head, then understood: the Dark Unit had given her a false name. The man continued:

“I’m not human, but an AI whose purpose is to welcome you to the After. Do you feel okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“No anxiety? Did the transfer go well?”

“I think so.”

She held back the urge to scream that she was looking for Julia Prahi. Wait. Understand first, then act.

“I imagined the After would be bigger than this island,” she confessed.

“If the After were a planet, it would be as large as a thousand suns. This is the world where humanity has lived its new life for almost fifteen hundred years.”

“Wait, I thought the After had only existed for a few centuries?”

“We now emulate personalities from the past.”

“What’s this place called?”

“This island is yours. It’s called Sanctuary Island. The Greek model is the default, but we have other styles: an English cottage, an asteroid apartment, an underwater bubble on Iris ... Tell me if you’d like a list. If your stress levels rise above a certain threshold, or your virtualized physical integrity is threatened, we’ll bring you back here safely and intact.”

“But ... we can’t die here, right?”

“No. As a joke, we often say you can do everything here except one thing, and it’s customary not to name that thing.”

“I see a village down there, and inhabitants. AIs too?”

“Indeed. On your Sanctuary Island, you can invite friends, but in principle, it’s your Sanctuary. The AIs here are mainly for your needs. You don’t need to eat, since this realm is governed more by desire than necessity ... but what’s better than a delicious meal to make you happy?”

“What if I want to find others? I mean, people who transferred to the After like me?”

“First, Stella, it might be best for you to familiarize yourself better with your body.”

Cass looked at her hands, assessed her muscles.

“I feel the same.”

“The transition to the After removes certain defects—joint pain, metastases, improves your posture—but it’s barely noticeable. Indeed, mind and body are closely linked, and you’re emulated by a major AI, a clone of your brain, as well as two balance AIs to manage your emotions and your body. Think: ‘I want to see my statistics.’”

She thought it, and transparently in her field of view appeared evaluations of her health, physical strength, reflexes, endurance ... The guide continued:

“Ratings are out of 100. A healthy human is around 70. During your transition to the After, we gently raise these scores, day by day, toward 80.”

Cass didn’t comment, but all her ratings were between 180 and 350.

“Some games and free spaces disregard these constraints. But make sure to remain yourself often. Your personality’s continuity depends on it. Now, I suggest a tour of the island. Shall I accompany you?”

“I’ll be fine. Wait here.”

She breathed in. Scents of resin and eucalyptus. Of iodine. Of a billionaire’s summer vacation. She descended stone steps embedded in earth as a squirrel watched her pass. She parted palm and coconut leaves, reaching the village paved in white, open stained-glass windows, whitewashed walls, blue wooden interiors. A Titus cat, round-headed with large elongated, usually empathic eyes, black fur, rubbed against her legs. Busy AIs moved about—one hanging sheets, another unloading the day’s catch.