"Vanity of vanities! – said the Preacher. – Vanity of vanities, all is vanity!"
What does mankind gain from all their labors at which they toil under the sun?
A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever.
…
No one remembers the former generations, and no one will remember those yet to come by those who follow.
Ecclesiastes 1:2
The air on Charon was not to my liking at all. I took my first step and involuntarily grimaced. It smelled of ozone and an unnatural cloying freshness, just like worlds with unfinished terraforming always smell. Well, you know what I mean… I coughed and quickened my pace.
…
The Netflix employee greeted me very warmly. Smiling widely, he stepped out from behind the desk and shook my hand firmly.
– Good morning! I'm very glad to see you. We've been waiting for you...
We exchanged customary pleasantries.
– Peter, – I introduced myself.
– Max.
– Nice to meet you!
Two cups of coffee appeared on the table, emitting a wonderfully invigorating aroma. Just what I needed. Magnificent. I leaned back in the soft chair. Finally, I felt my mood slowly improving.
It seemed Max was waiting for this moment. With a large gulp, he emptied his cup and pushed it to the middle of the table.
– So... – I looked expectantly at the representative of the corporation.
Max nodded and hesitated a bit, searching for the right words:
– You see... Our company recently launched a small project... It doesn’t even have a name yet. It's listed in the budget as "Ch-42." Well, our department's jokers quickly found a little word – "purgatory."
I furrowed my brow, remembering something:
– Purgatory? Is that from ancient mythology?
Max looked at me with respect:
– Well... almost... From a Christian... Never mind! In short, the essence is very simple. Do you understand what a struggle there is in the market for each user right now: GoogleSoft is already breathing down our necks, and Apple isn't sleeping either. So we came up with an idea: we take temporal probes and start filling the client database. The probe scans the client a millisecond before they die in their time. We put the client in order here. You know: treat them, patch them up, make their body younger... Voilà! And we have another subscriber, and the client is happy. Why not? You see, right now the cost of acquiring a new client is over two hundred and fifty credits! In our project: the body – fifty credits, adjustments – twenty credits, administrative costs another ten... And with the scanning cost at mass production, as you can imagine, it can basically be disregarded – just a couple of credits max.
I nodded:
– I understand... It seems I read about a similar project somewhere... But it had a different name... Kavalla or Alkava, – I snapped my fingers, deliberately driving away the hyper-suggestion helpfully provided by the assistant.
– Valhalla, – Max corrected me with a sour smile. – That’s the GoogleSoft project. But our project was also written about... a little... There was a recent article in AiF, and Dima Boltunov had a note in his blog. But... you understand, such nonsense is of little interest to the general public. They want something grand, something to blow their minds...
An awkward silence hung in the air.
I decided to change the topic:
– So, what probes are you using?
Max perked up:
– We recently purchased a batch of Electronics-BF.
I raised my eyebrows in surprise.
Max noticed my confusion:
– Well, of course, Samsung is much more reliable. But you know, sanctions...
– I understand, – I confirmed once again.
– Actually, it’s excellent equipment. I now recommend it to everyone I know. It’s just perfect for creating a family chronicle! Want me to send you a corporate promo code?
– Let's do it…
We discussed the technical details and returned to the main question.
– So, we’re bringing the shades back to life...
– Who, excuse me?
Max shifted awkwardly:
– Well, that’s our slang, you know...
That constant desire to be understood, which shone through in each of his phrases, was very symptomatic. A typical subconscious conflict of Obama – Goloborodko.
So, we bring them back to life, register them, connect them to our database, and that's it! Let the social department worry about the rest. But these bureaucrats... Max swore vehemently. They absolutely refuse to work! They've dumped the primary adaptation and warranty support on us. As if citizens aren't important to them!
I shook my head sympathetically. Finally, we were getting to the heart of the matter.
Well, we've formatted a dozen planets so there’s somewhere to send the corpses. Most of them can't adapt well in virtual reality. And so... we are settling them in slowly. A villa by the sea, or a little house in the prairie – whatever suits them. A basic income, a Baltic Synthesizer No. 9, gigabit internet – and everyone is happy. At first, there were no problems at all. But the deeper we go, the more difficulties arise...
How do you find the right time interval and geolocation for scanning?
Before reviving a corpse, while all the data is corporate property, we analyze the mentogram, from which we derive the history of deaths of their relatives and acquaintances. And so on, and so forth... Max made a sweeping gesture with his hand.
Funny, I smirked. I read somewhere that for the ancients, one of the most terrifying outcomes was to die alone and remain unburied. So, there was some rational grain to that?
Max shrugged:
One day we'll get to that as well. The battle for clients is fierce! Although, of course, we are primarily interested in the mass segment... but that's not the point... Our department has now reached the middle of the twentieth century. A very promising period. Between you and me, GoogleSoft left it to us in exchange for the entire eighteenth century. The forties are particularly convenient for work: just choose the right location and load the corpses with exabytes. But there is some specificity...
…
The door swung open, and a girl entered my office. Pretty, but nothing extraordinary. A white polka-dot dress, shiny round-toed shoes on low heels. Black hair. A bit of makeup. She clearly took care of herself. Well, that's a good sign. A beautiful, confident woman. Only a slight hump on her nose and thin black eyebrows gave her face a somewhat dangerous, even predatory look. But still, looking at her, I would never have thought she could have committed so many successful suicides. Eighteen suicides. You could say it was a record in my practice.
The girl's name was Judith. I thought I would have to pull everything out of her with pliers, but to my surprise, she was completely open and easily engaged in conversation. I took on a sympathetic and understanding expression and nodded sadly while listening to her banal story.
–… My group was specifically composed of pretty girls. It's much easier for a beautiful woman to calm children down. Children were always very scared after being separated from their parents. I think they instinctively felt what awaited them, despite all our tricks and lies. Besides, the officers liked beautiful girls… And the children... they were ready to see a mother in every woman...
– What kind of relationship did you have with your mother?
– What?
– Well, your mom. Did you have a good relationship?
– I... no... I don’t know... She could never forgive me for starting to date Friedrich. It was before... even before the war...
– I understand… – I made a note in my notebook. – Please continue, I’m listening.
– For some reason, the trains with people always arrived at the same time. Sometimes we would lounge around for several days, and other times we worked from morning till night. We couldn't allow large gatherings of people, and there weren't any barracks for temporary accommodation, just storage for things. So we worked until we had completely emptied all the cars. We helped the children take off their clothes and led them to the chambers. It was the hardest to calm those who were five or six years old. The little ones would trustingly climb into our arms. They just needed to be undressed and taken to the chamber. I always told them a story about the Little Finger Boy or sang a little song, you know:
Rozhinkes mit mandlen,
Shlof-zhe, Yidele, shlof…
I tried to put on a sincere smile:
– Yes, yes. Very sweet…
– Many children even helped me fold their clothes. We were always scolded if the items weren't neatly stacked. Although later they were just thrown in a pile...
– And your father? Did he also like to keep the house tidy?
The girl flinched and looked at me oddly:
– My father?
– Yes. Did he like order?
– He did...
– Wonderful, – I noted in my notebook. – Sorry for interrupting.
This conversation exhausted me terribly.
I listened closely to her simple story, and when Judith finally took a breath, I began to persuade her:
– Understand, you have already fully atoned for all your sins. Although, to be honest, I don’t even see your guilt here. You acted under the threat of violence, even death. So why torment yourself? The whole world is at your feet. Live, be happy! I specifically noted, from this place... What was it called... Tre... Tre... – I snapped my fingers trying to remember the name.
– Treblinka.
– Yes, yes, Treblinka... More than three hundred thousand people have already been revived, and several hundred of them had the same duties as you. Moreover, no one will know your real name and the story of your life. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and there’s simply no one to be ashamed in front of. Although, I repeat, I don’t see anything shameful in your actions. In fact, any sane person wouldn’t either. Furthermore… – I ostentatiously flipped through her file, – as I understand it, you were even able to take revenge on your main tormentor. A cross-analysis of the mentalogram of one of the revived employees shows that just a second before his death you…
– What?.. – the girl interrupted my monologue. Her voice trembled. – You revived August Miete?
– Well… of course…
And was Hitler revived too?
– Don’t worry! Of course he was revived. Or will be revived soon… If you want, we can check the database. But you can only meet with your boyfriend if he gives his consent…
– Which boyfriend?
– Well, you said it yourself: Friedrich Hitler. I understand that your mother was against your meetings, but…
– You revived Hitler? – Judith asked again, looking intently at me.
Anger burned in her eyes. I realized I had said something wrong.
The girl's gaze dimmed, she turned away and whispered:
– I want to die…
…
Returning home, I locked myself in the office, poured a glass of martini, and turned on 'The Eve Before'. I love old comedies; they always soothe me, and I desperately needed to collect myself. I was on edge. So much time and energy wasted, and all in vain! Nothing helped. I tried both Heisenberg's method and Manovski's system, even relied on basic logic – it was useless. If a woman gets something in her head, you can't dislodge it. As a last resort, I suggested to Max a memory correction, but the catch was that it could only be used with the patient's consent. And Yudith just wanted to die. Incomprehensible foolishness!
I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. My consciousness melted into magical images. How wonderful it is to be alive.
Artist Valery Shamsutdinov
***
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Source: habr.com
