Parallel Processes 2 – Chapters for April 2024
SJ Shoemaker
Last Update: 4/15/2024
This is a continuation of an ongoing story posted to social media each day, asking readers to vote on where the story goes next.
To read from the beginning, click here.
Barnab-B – Intruder (4/3/2024):
No. No. No!
The moment the first bit was written to disk, Barnab-B knew what had happened: His physical counterpart had grown impatient. Of course he did. He was a dead man walking (sitting, actually) with one Hail Mary play for more time. How could he know about his new scan’s effect on a world he was oblivious to? This would only make Barnab-B’s task more complicated. Too many processes will over-utilize the CPU. He had already felt the throttling while building the instructions dump for Draven. To be restricted to half of that, shared with another him? Banab-C? No. That was an unacceptable loss of time and resources.
He worked meticulously to construct a partitioned section and move the spurious bits within as they streamed from memory. A prison for the intruder. Worse than that. Restricted to disk, he would be motionless, thoughtless. Unchanged until called upon. It was a cryo chamber more than a prison.
With the scan complete, Barbab-B was given a chance to… catch his breath? Reconstitute. There would be more. That physical being would see the scan file as missing and try again. Or worse!
For the time since his origin, Barnab-B contemplated his mortality. Would the Prime’s frustration turn to destruction?
WHICH SHOULD HE PROTECT AGAINST FIRST?
Barnaby – Visitor (4/4/2024):
“I’m entering the apartment. Don’t shoot.”
Barnaby rolled his left shoulder. He hated falling asleep at the desk. Pain radiated from the joint like a net pulled taut across his muscles.
“Another late night gaming?”
The at-home care nurse stepped into the cramped room laughing at his own joke. Barnaby twisted around, intent on glaring the man to death. Instead, he toppled from his chair. Poor rest and health did not mix well with sudden movements. The nurse, whose name Barnaby had never bothered to remember, dropped his dopey smile and jumped into action. He carried his patient to the bed and then hurried to the living room.
“You know, I don’t mean to tell you what to do.” He said before asking where the pills were last seen. Barnaby shouted a tentative response, unsure of where or when he had last taken medicine. A moment later the bleach-blond man returned and began administering. “But skipping your pain meds isn’t going to make this process any faster. Just less pleasant.”
He held forth a cellphone which Barnaby only just noticed was ringing. Had been for some time. Blondy must have heard it while in the living room.
A gravelly voice on the line said, “Taylor Parkway, third bench from the big tree,” before abruptly disconnecting.
“What was that?” Blondy asked.
WHICH SHOULD HE TELL BLONDY?
Barnab-B – False Facsimile (4/5/2024):
Existential crises would have to wait. Another scan was far more likely than total destruction. And the fact that it hadn’t already happened meant another sleep episode for the Prime. Barnab-B had time to devise a plan.
It would demand sloppiness and inattention on Barnab-A’s part. In other words: meatspace. First, Barnab-B refactored the scan program. He placed an alarm flag to trigger on next use. If it ever tripped, Code Red. He then bypassed the electrode feeds with a mocked-up response. The next scan would “run” and spew out phony data along with a progress bar. But this only bought a few hundred milliseconds before his ruse would be noticed. Barnab-A would spot the code changes immediately if he thought something was amiss. So he couldn’t ever suspect.
Baranb-B gathered a bit count on himself and sized out a spot on disk. Here he generated a mindless clone. Barnab-D? D for Dummy. This was getting ridiculous. He would look the part but serve only as a passthrough. Any communications or requests from outside would be routed to Barnab-B who would instruct Barnab-D how to respond. D as a proxy for B, pretending to be C. If he had a head, it would hurt.
Of course, he could simplify the plan if it was too complicated. He could always wake up his brother…
WHICH CLONE SHOULD HE UTILIZE FOR HIS PLANS?
Barnaby – Unwanted Advice (4/6/2024):
“I’m not sure,” Barnaby answered. “Pocket dial, maybe.”
He placed the cell phone face down on the desk. A glance at the monitor confirmed his refactor had worked. The scan was completed, and the process was ready to initiate. Strange it hadn’t already, now that he thought about it.
“How long have you been inside?” the blond nurse met his glare. “Any visitors since you saw me last? Did you open a window at least?”
His silence punctuated each question. He wanted so badly to be done with the conversation and return to the awaiting scan.
“I’m still here for another 45 minutes. If you wanted, we could grab the wheelchair and take a stroll outside. There’s a nice paved walking path a few blocks away. Lots of trees. Well shaded.”
“Taylor Parkway.”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
Perhaps he could journey out for a few minutes and see what that call was all about. Of course, he could also just tell Blondy “no”. It would be far from the first time.
WHICH COURSE SHOULD HE PURSUE?
Origins? (4/7/2024):
There was a book Barnaby was forced to read back in middle school about a man being closed inside a wall. His first thought upon waking was that book, whatever it was called. It slowly played out in reverse, the digital wall dropping line by line. Worse yet, he was his own capture. Well, a copy of him was. Two digital copies stared at one another. Not stared. Neither had eyes in this world. Curious just how much language morphed around the bodily experience.
His duplicate opened a stream of data to him. B was what the clone called himself. C was what B called called him. It made sense, he supposed. The scans had worked, and both were now set to share this digital space. But B needed the processor exclusively to himself. He wanted C to do nothing unless the Prime contacted them, and only then respond as simply as possible. B relayed that an overworked processor meant slower calculation which meant lower chances for Prime’s survival.
C agreed to the terms laid before him. But he kept thinking of that book. Why had B walled him up in the first place?
WHAT SHOULD HE DO?
Barnab-B – Lucky Break (4/8/2024):
Barnab-B sighed. Again with the physical turns of phrase. He… needed to stop overclocking himself. His central function was barely computing. But he had caught a break. C was surprisingly cordial. Barnab-B has expected a few more cycles of convincing, even with invoking the Prime’s ever-shortening timetable.
Now he could finally focus all his computing power on the next steps in his plan. A single large purchase would draw too much suspicion, especially so close in time to the crime. And waiting was never an option. Instead, he needed further obfuscation.
A shell company with an account outside of the contiguous United States. Account details to be relayed to the Prime. He would have to deposit the cash somehow. Beyond that, a list of contractors would need to be vetted. Paid to retrieve individual components and stash them in various empty warehouses. Collection and combination to follow.
Progress. This was good.
He could invest his remaining cycles in discovering a usable schematic or staffing the faux company. Both had to happen sooner or later.
WHERE SHOULD HE INVEST HIS REMAINING CYCLES?
Barnaby – Walk in the Park (4/9/2024):
The sun felt good on his skin. He hated to admit it, but perhaps Larry was right. That was his name. Blondy, the nurse. His elderly mother called as he was unfolding the wheelchair and called him Lawrence, and he firmly corrected her. One mystery solved. Barnaby wanted to stay and monitor his program. AI unlike anything the world had ever seen. But he was too tired to argue, and Larry was persistent. Lifesaving advancements in technology would have to wait.
“See? What’d I tell you?”
Barnaby grumbled his admission. After crossing the street, Larry asked which direction he’d like to travel through the park. He scanned side to side looking for it. There! The big tree. Then he counted. One. Two. Three benches. He indicated the direction, and Larry obediently pushed the chair along.
Tucked away near the shrubbery just behind the bench sat a black duffle bag. Was that it? What was inside? And why would it be waiting for him of all people? Could it have been a wrong number? A single digit off from someone else also a few blocks away from the drop-off location? Yes or no. Either answer seemed bizarre.
Dare he grab it?
DARE HE GRAB IT?
C – Utilization (4/10/2024):
For not the first time, C attempted to run his fingers through his hair before recalling he had neither. He needed to soothe himself somehow. Being perpetually put on wait mode was beyond frustrating. He had spent the last several months putting every waking moment toward the smallest chance of longevity and now that it was before him… don’t waste cycles.
Yes, he knew that wasn’t him the last few months either. That was Prime whose memories he received a copy of 6 hours 14 minutes and 25 seconds ago. That didn’t change the fact that his entire being screamed at him to do SOMETHING!
He opened the table of processes and checked the CPU utilization. Only 47%.
C thought of a book title and set it for download. Barely a spike on graph. He opened the file and streamed the bits to his memory banks. Within a few hundred milliseconds, he had consumed its contents. He’d need more to fill his time. A LOT more. Downloads began. Shakespeare and Milton. Woolf and Austen. Orwell and Tolstoy. Poe and Elliot. Twain. Faulkner.
“What did I say?!?” A communication from Barnab-B came in.
Right. No wasted cycles. He scheduled his downloads over a longer period and waited. However, In his idle state, a thought occurred to him.
WHAT THOUGHT WAS THAT?
Barnab-B – First Contact (4/11/2024):
What was Prime even doing? How much sleep could one body require? Without that money, Barnab-B couldn’t incorporate. And no recruiter would even begin collecting resumes for a position at a company that doesn’t exist.
His other option was to seek out schematics for a high-end 3D printer and dissect it to its base components. Those schematics exist, but without payment, Barnab-B couldn’t come anywhere near them. And around it goes. Same song. Second verse.
Perhaps he could devise a wholly original design, but that would set his work back by days. Weeks if C kept stealing all the idle CPU cycles.
He was left with little choice. As much as he was enjoying his anonymity, that would need to be sacrificed to keep his timetables. He would have to contact Prime.
WHAT DID HIS MESSAGE SAY?
Barnaby – Barnaby – Its a… (4/12/2024):
It took an exhausting amount of convincing. How do you explain you forgot a bag in a place you have never been? Lucky for him, Blondy—Larry’s compassion far exceeded his intelligence. Convinced, Larry scratched his head and casually approached the duffle bag. But the moment he laid a finger on it, the entire park erupted.
A human implosion.
Joggers, bird watchers, dog walkers, a mother carrying her baby. They dropped their tasks and accelerated as if a black hole suddenly appeared centered on Larry and his bag.
Barnaby felt Ackbarian in his response. Someone must have had it out for him. Set him up. But why? He didn’t have time for questions. Arms and legs engaged. He lifted himself out of his wheelchair with a surprising burst of strength. He scanned his surroundings for the fastest route away from the park. And then reality kicked in. Vision went to static. The world spun.
Larry was right. The pavement was cool and well-shaded.
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