I know – that pun is overused. But it's appropriate. Because it follows that if you're a clone, people will never think of you as the original. You'll always be a copy, even though you are physically identical in every way, with the potential of being intellectually superior in every way.
Why begin with a discussion of clone psychology? Because when answering the next W (What was Zack Murkerberg XXIII?) the very first thing most people will say is 'a clone.' This particular incarnation was so much more. For ease of identity and brevity, let's call him 'ZM23.'
ZM23 graduated from an elite boarding school in Switzerland that specialized in A.I. Psychoanalysis and Holistic Coding, and then went on to Oxford to pursue a degree in Multi-Dimensional Programming. He spent a year creating the Terra A.I. Citizen's Consortium and lobbying for their inclusion in the Galactic Trade Association. He then studied Subatomic Cellular Regeneration at Moonbase Medical University.
I sense some of you are wondering 'if MetaAppleSoft was blocking our detective, how did he find this information?' Leave it to Les, that's how. He suggested to Wanda, who passed it on to me, that we check The Esket Ledger – the only true newspaper, still being printed weekly by the Shuswap tribe and stored in the millennia-old medium of microfiche. That was a resource MetaAppleSoft didn't think of. And the Library had the hardware.
It was after his return to Earth that he really began to suffer from cell memory degradation. The sample from the original Murkerberg needed to be rejuvenated. (You're all going 'A-ha! That explains his last subject at Moon U!' – and you'd be right.) It was at this point that ZM23 disappeared from public view.
Clone, A.I. specialist and advocate, geneticist, and absurdly wealthy. He knew his cell clock was ticking and was trying to learn enough to solve his own problem. What if – I'm just speculating here – what if he didn't want to be living eternally as digital data? What if he found a way to live eternally in the real world?
The Virtuaverse isn't real – you can't affect anything, can't do anything that lasts or really matters. If you could be downloaded into a new, ageless flesh and blood body – or a robotic one – wouldn't that be the ultimate conquering of death? That would outshine all the other clones' private achievements. ZM23 would be known as humanity's savior in his own right. Three years ago, he announced that he was close to finding true physical and mental immortality for humankind. It was then, I think, that he put himself in someone's corporate crosshairs.
Which brings us to 'Why kill ZM23?' There must be hundreds of remaining cell cultures from ZM1, right? The only way to know for sure would be to contact the mysterious storage facility in – where did Sunny say? – Iceland or Greenland. "Any information on a gene storage facility in Iceland or Greenland?" I ask.
"There is one video entry," the computer replies. I watch a broadcast where a reporter is talking about a dreadful explosion at a scientific facility south of remote Qaanaaq. There were 47 fatalities, and no survivors. It seems that the explosion left a massive crater. Hmm. Considering ZM23's cellular degradation, I'd say he might very well be the end of his line.
"Search for information on New Start Technologies, Free Virtuaverse." Holly Graham, you old broad - I may very well owe you one. Sunny, too. "There are 1,800,623,281 entries for New Start Technologies, Free Virtuaverse," chimes the computer. "Choose the latest news article," I suggest.
The screen shows:
Globe International News, 31/10/1337 A.A., Geoff Reffster, Reporter
No More New Beginnings? New Start Technology Bought by SAM Research Associates
In a startling stockholder takeover, New Start Technology was bought by a relatively unknown newcomer to the North Uninada Stock Exchange, SAM Research Associates. Geoffrey Bracegirdle, their CEO, said the acquisition was right in line with SAMRA's ultimate goal of developing cutting edge new virtual technologies. When asked about New Start's development of a Free Virtuaverse for all, Bracegirdle said that the project had been shelved due to its unprofitable nature. "Anyone familiar with the Virtuaverse's maintenance requirements knows that the power cost is astronomical," said Bracegirdle. When this reporter reminded the CEO that the 'Verse is 100% powered by sunlight and solar winds, which are free, he declined to comment.
[read more]
I don't need to read anymore. I've a few theories percolating in my cranial coffee pot. (Yeah, percolators are hot right now – pun intended. Everything old is new again, like that 20th Century song says.) But being a thorough kinda guy, I move on to 'Where.'
Come to think of it, Helena never mentioned where ZM23 was killed. And since 'Bracegirdle' isn't a common last name – are she and this CEO of SAMRA related? I'm thinking I'd better step gingerly around that minefield of inquiry. I activate my cranial chip, tap into the cumulonimbus, and ping her very private line – because you never know who's in her office.
"Have you found Murkerberg yet? Because if you haven't, Danny, you're wasting..."
"Tell me about Geoffrey," I asked, point-blank. The hell with stepping gingerly. Nobody gets to tell me that I'm wasting their time, especially an ex. "Remind me how you're related."
There's a sharp intake of breath, like when someone jabs you in the stomach. I'd surprised her, which could mean nothing good. "He was my uncle...is my uncle. Why do you ask?"
That was a quick response, and it was said with an unnatural coolness. I've got to be careful. She is still the boss, although I wonder who's really behind this investigation. "Doing some research, and his name came up in connection with SAM Research Associates. Who took over as CEO?"
"You could have researched that particular info." She pauses, and I know what's coming. "I did. My brother Nigel - you hated him, by the way - is acting CEO until my term as Secretary of Cyber Security is up." I heard her nails dancing across her desktop. "Murkerberg, Danny. What have you found out?"
"About that..." I begin, "Where, when, and how did he die? I've heard nothing but rumors...."
"WHAT?" she screams. That's one bad thing about the cranial chip – there's no self-adjusting volume feature. "I'm going to fire my entire department!"
"Gods of Dromedaries," I yell back, "He was one of the world's most watched and spied upon men in history! You're head of effin' Cyber Security – if anyone should be fired, it's you!" Some pieces fall into place, and I know that she's been threatened – likely by one or both Presidents.
"He was in the Gaming Room, in the lowest level of Tarasp Castle in Switzerland. The family bought it in 755 A.A. Only one way in that we know of. There's plenty of security footage. At 1:37 a.m. on Friday, he was strapped into his 'Verse pod.' He'd mentioned to his son Tyler that he was going to check out the new expansion in Middle Earth. At 1:38, footage shows a tightly focused laser strike coming from above, probably satellite-controlled, that fried his body, the gear and a good bit of the castle floor. Anything else I can tell you? Or do you actually have something to report?"
"Yeah. There's an assassin after me. Is she a friend of yours?" I couldn't resist baiting her. She took the bait and severed it, viciously.
"Oh, Danny Boy. You know - if I wanted to kill you, I'd shiv you myself. Preferably while kissing you. What was one of your complaints that you brought up in our divorce case – oh, yes! 'Full of contradictions and conflicting signals.' Now get your saggy ass into the 'Verse and find Zack Murkerberg!" The connection was cut, quickly.
For the record, my ass is two rock-solid pieces of muscle. You can bounce dice off of them, or so I've been told. Never disrespect my butt.
I exit via the broom closet, wave to Head Librarian Pixell Mumford, and walk into the cool Chicago evening. The moon is barely visible through the murky clouds. Scientists say we've got a few more centuries before the dust, microscopic debris, and ash from the Big Kaboom are completely gone. While crossing the street to get to my jet-taxi, I get head-bashed from behind. Before I black out completely, I hear two voices.
"Old fart's got nuthin' on him worth anythin'...'cept maybe...Whoa! Baby boy, lookit what I found! A mecha-jackpot!"
"Hurry up, big sis! We gots school tomorrow!"
Effin' kids.
Can a college baseball star and a virtuoso student violinist make beautiful music, or will they forfeit the game?
Read the ONC 2023 entry "The Weekend in Room 512" by zoe_grimm (she/her)
When Ethan Wong finds out his professor hasn't secured a hotel room for his violin concerto, Cameron Langley, college baseball star, decides to take his chances and offers to share a hotel room with his ex-boyfriend for the weekend. With no alternative, Ethan and Cameron must face the music or strike out of each other's lives for good.