Trembling With Fear 6-18-23

Administrator, by Duncan Cave

Despite no official bloodshed between each other, the United States and the USSR have been locked in a deadly game of chicken for nearly 30 years. Although this has caused quite a bit of fear and tension in the world, many scientists are more than happy to accept blank checks from the CIA for their research. 

One such scientist has just entered a dark room. The room is quite large yet is filled nearly to the brim with warmly humming machines. The scientist haggardly steps through the door, leaving it open a crack and allowing a shaft of harsh artificial light into the room. The now-dark figure quickly reaches a computer terminal set into the side of the machines. Taking a seat, the scientist strikes a key on the terminal. The humming is slowly replaced by a mean grinding and clicking that emanates from the large bank of machines. After several seconds the sound reaches its peak and subsides. The thick, dusty monitor in front of the scientist flickers to life and a single cursor seems to appear from deep within the machine into the upper left corner of the monitor. The scientist’s fingers swiftly work the keys and reveal a single command. 

run program; Peel

The scientist stretches a single finger over the enter key. It hangs there in limbo for several moments while the scientist regains the resolve required for the task at hand. Eventually, it plunges down and, with a heavy chunk, engages the program. For a long moment, nothing happens until the harsh grinding and clicking returns at full force, furiously obeying the terminal’s command inputs. Green text begins spewing out of the machine onto the monitor, filling the screen and continuing downwards. For several minutes the screen continues like this, softly illuminating the scientist’s face with a poisonous green hue. Eventually, the text stops scrolling, and the noises cease their assault upon the scientists’ ears. The screen then blinks, and the room is completely dark, except for the shaft of light from the door. The scientist waits a full minute, before engaging with the program. After yet another moment of hesitation, the scientist types out a question on the monitor. 

[user] Do you know who you are?

The whirs and clicks of the machines start again and a line of text appears on the monitor, unprompted by the scientist.

[program] Where am I?

The scientist smirks slightly before replying.

[user] Do you know who you are?

[program] I am Dr. Emilia Breen. Where am I?

Back and forth the scientist and the program communicate.

[user] Very good. Dr. Breen what is your last memory?

[program] I was working on a project for the CIA.

[user] What do you remember about this project?

[program] Well, it was a type of weapon against the Ruskies. I believe it was going to be some kind of atmospheric bombardment device, but I was involved with how it was controlled.

[user] Do you remember how the project ended?

[program] We couldn’t find a way to operate it short of having an astronaut man it full time. This caused some stir as the Apollo 13 incident was still hanging over everyone’s head so the CIA finally pulled funding unless we found a more practical form of operation.

[user] What was that more practical form?

[program] We realized the easiest way would be a computer of some sort that we could install onto the satellite, and use radio to give it commands. The only problem is no computer or program exists that is anywhere near smart enough to operate a satellite. 

[user] Eloquently stated, however, slightly factually incorrect. The computer and program required for that task do exist.

[program] That’s great, but again, where am I, and who are you?

[user] Well to answer one of those questions, you are inside the computer.

[program] That doesn’t make sense. How could I be inside a computer?

[user] We eventually realized that it would take years for us to develop something capable of meeting our requirements. However, as we were beginning to close up shop, a gift from some friends in Roswell showed up at our doorstep. Some advanced technology another division had developed or discovered. It was capable of making you.

[program] Wait, are you saying that I’m not real? That all my memories of childhood and life are artificial? 

[user] No. Those memories are all real, and you did experience them – however, they are just copies of another person’s life. The technology from Roswell allowed us to scan and recreate your consciousness.

[program] So I am not actually Dr. Breen?

[user] Well you are, and you aren’t. However, none of this matters. In a couple of weeks, you are going to be installed on the satellite Overseer, and my jo-

Before the scientist could finish typing out the last message a large pop sounded in the room, and the screen went blank. Frustratedly, the scientist stood up and pushed the chair away from the terminal. Looking up into a concealed camera with a blinking red light the scientist stated in a tone of complete exasperation: “Fix it up again, and next time it better not have access to the coolant controls. I’m tired of all these programs finding new ways to take the easy way out.”

As the scientist stepped through the door the shaft of light briefly illuminated an I.D. card clipped to a lab coat. In dark ink, just above a triangular logo, read the name: Dr. Emelia Breen.