The Crystal Bridge

Chapter 8 - Build Your Own Terrible Lizard

James held the soft simsuit in his hands as Mike walked beside him on their way to the BOCS prep room.

“You sure you’re ready for this, James? You did have a bit of an ordeal yesterday. Straight from the medical section; don’t you want to see your quarters first?” Mike turned left down a hallway that looked just like the one they’d been in a moment earlier.

“No. I’m good. Still can’t believe I have to live in this crazy, underground maze for a year. My family’s going to think I’m dead.” James looked down another hallway that went on forever. “And I’ll probably get lost and die of starvation down here somewhere.”

Mike smiled at the joke. “It’s not so bad. The lodging is great and you can write, email, and phone plenty. You can’t beat the pay either. Consider it a sabbatical of sorts.” Mike pulled on his white hood as they entered the locker room, transforming himself into an odd bandit. “It’s not like your family saw much of you the last few years anyway. They won’t notice a difference.”

They each stepped into a changing stall and slipped on the bodysuit part of the outfit, finishing about the same time. Mike pulled on his gloves as they made their way out of the locker room. “That sister of yours was nice though. I’ve been here over a year now and have some leeway. What is she up t— ouch, James!”

James had punched him in the arm. That felt good. “You stay away from my sister. She’s happily married and has completely forgot­ten about you, as I should have a long time ago.”

Mike grinned. “I’m not so sure about either of those. Really? You think you’re up for the BOCS just yet?”

James slipped on his own gloves and hood, comfortable and lightweight as they stretched and molded to his skin. He rubbed at his temples through the soft white cloth, but his headache had dissipated hours ago. “I’ve actually never felt better. Don’t worry so much. You’re getting too sentimental in your old age.”

“Old age? Since when is thirty-three old? And you’re just a few years younger than me.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re thirty-seven.” James led the way down the narrow hall this time. He squinted until the lasers stopped scanning even though, once again, they didn’t come close to his eyes. The white portal seemed to call out to him, drawing him nearer and nearer. “I figure I need to get started. I have a lot to learn, don’t I?”

“Yes, yes you do.” Mike nodded as the door slid open.

James’ second trip to the BOCS amazed him no less than his first. The massive door sealed again without any detectable seams. The hum started up as before, but this time commands sounded in his head, as a gentle female voice spoke to him through the neural interface.

Mike led James through the first few steps, but then, with more practice, he designed the world around him alone. A mound of rocks popped into existence with a thought and he pushed them to the horizon. Clouds appeared and he summoned trees, made leaves grow, created flower blossoms, and then he banished them all to nothingness.

It’s exhilarating. He began building back up his holographic world, layering life on top of minerals to test the limits of complexity the computer could handle.

Mike stood beside him, motioning his own commands as animals he’d been working on swirled around him. James thought he still looked like a sorcerer.

“Why do you wave your hands around so much? You look like a magician or something.” James waved his arm. “Abracadabra!” A bunny appeared with a puff of smoke.

“Funny. It has to do with will. The BOCS responds to thoughts, but humans have a dozen thoughts running through their head at once: coffee, work, the girl down the street, someone’s married sister, the color of the sky today. You name it, we have it flowing through syn­apses millions of times a day. You have to give one thought more will behind it, and those little machines in your brain are more likely to know what you want.”