Perfectopia - Part #1/9

In an ideal world, YOU are the imperfection.

Perfectopia started out as a short, but (un)expectedly grew beyond the single-bite size during the process, hence the serialization. I then planned for it to conclude in 6 parts, but once again, it organically grew to 8 and then 9 (set in stone now). If there’s anything I learned writing fiction, it’s its ability to surprise, including the author himself.

I’m posting one part a week, on Thursdays.

Part #1

April 2029 | Vancouver, Canada

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Professor Martin Carmack addressed the perfectly hush audience off the main TED podium, ”I’m proud to announce that we finally cracked the mystery of the human brain!”

A dull pain pulled Sigmund, standing squished behind the last row of the auditorium, out of a mild trance and made him look down. Without realizing it, Gaby was squeezing his hand more than was necessary, her undivided attention on the stage. He knew she was a combination of starstruck and immersed in the grandeur of the moment. Being in a 24/7 romantic relationship with your co-worker comes with the territory of learning the tiniest quirks of one’s character. No point pulling her out for such a minor physical inconvenience. He cast his glance back to the celebrity in the spotlight.

They weren’t there for the news itself of course—having read and re-read the papers published in the Science journal countless times, after devouring peer reviews and commentary, both of the young scientists knew exactly what was being announced. Nevertheless, they just couldn’t pass on the opportunity to see the scientific royalty’s appearance in their neck of the woods—only a short flight from Edmonton—even if the only thing the star scientist was going to do was to entertain the fancy conference crowd with the overview of a great discovery regurgitated into layman’s terms.

“Our team has identified and classified the cognitive connections between brain’s Prefrontal Cortex responsible for logic, planning and decision making, Anterior Cingulate Cortex which monitors conflict and helps adjust behavior when something feels off, Amygdala tasked with adding an emotional weight to reasoning, and everyone’s favorite—Basal ganglia—a willing participant in habitual or reward-based decision loops and the dopamine junkie who lives in our heads.” The Professor paused, waiting out a wave of polite laughs to subside.

“In short, we can now read, with a perfect certainty, the whole chain of decision-making processes in a human’s brain.” Said the Professor, pressing an invisible button, bringing up an AI-generated image of a middle-aged man salivating at a slice of a cake.

“Johnny sees a piece of cake.”

“Johnny wants to eat it”.

“Johnny knows the cake will taste good—a sample of reward dopamine already being released just at the sight of the delicious treat.”

“But…” the speaker paused for a dramatic effect… “Johnny knows the last slice belongs to Sophia.”

“There’s a whole whirlpool of complex weighting going on in Johnny’s head: guilt versus reward, possible consequences versus promise of pleasure, dietary considerations versus ingrained need for energy intake…”

“In the end, subconsciously in essence, Johnny makes a reasoned decision to leave the piece of pastry be.”

Another discreet push of a button on a remote brings up the next slide, showing a simplified flow diagram visualizing Johnny’s internal drama.

“The whole process feels superficially natural to Johnny, but we can track every step and know exactly how and why our friend has come to the ultimate decision. It is my belief that our framework opens vast new prospects for further research in practical application, including, but of course not limited to in-depth studies of human behavior, finding new cures for brain diseases, or even…” a heavy pause snuffed out a murmur, slowly building up in the auditorium… “enabling tiny modifications to our personal traits some day.”

As if struck with a jolt of concentrated energy, Sigmund froze at the last words.

***

April 2029 | Edmonton, Canada

“Bull…” said Paul, holding up his finger and taking a generous swig from a freshly-brought glass of beer—his second of the evening—then wiped foam off his mustache and continued… “shit! That shot is way way way too long, even for you Siggy.”

They were four, seated around a high table in the back of Burt’s Beer Backyard, or simply The Bs in the vocabulary of its regulars.

“Wow, what’s with the winner’s attitude all of a sudden?” Sigmund bit back at his friend. “I thought this was our own cauldron of ideas, a safe space for mental exercises, where we can drop even the most out-there shit in without any prejudices or ridicule of no-can-doers.”

“Told you that you should’ve waited until P’s on at least fourth round, before throwing something so big at him.” Chuckled Gaby, conspiratorially elbowing Emily—the last of their group of four—sitting next to her. “Amirite?”

“More like tenth, by the sound of it.” Corrected Paul, swiveling to face the girl. “Your significant other is pitching a bit of a fairytale here. Using pre-programmed nanites to tweak value scales in peeps’ of power brains so they make the ‘right’ decisions and fix the world? There’s so much red tape, I don’t even know where to begin.”

He looked around the table, pausing on each of the friends, everyone silent.

“Em, you’re the voice of reason of this group,” Paul turned to face another woman across the table, “little backup?”

“Well, technically, we have agreed we will dissect all concepts from a distilled scientific standpoint, without the constraints of morality, financing, or how it would make us look.” Shot back Emily, throwing her hands in a don’t-drag-me-into-this gesture.

“Okay, look,” Said Paul, “I hate nay-sayers as much as the next guy, but I’m also not in the business of chasing dead ends. The whole technical complexity thing aside, working through the moral guidelines alone will drag your asses into the next century.”

“Ughhh…” Sigmund rolled his eyes theatrically… “did we graduate on top of our respective classes from the U of A to wallow in the swamp of ethics? No, we did it to use hard science to solve actual problems and have fun while we’re at it.”

As nobody seemed to be in a rush to object, he continued.

“First, the good ol’ professor Carmack did an exquisite job mapping out the wiring that goes into decision-making for us.” Sigmund uncurled a finger on his slightly raised hand.

“Second,” another digit went up, “the nanoscale neurobot technology the NRC lab has been cooking right here on the campus of the Alberta Uni for quite a while now is mature enough to position the particles with phenomenal precision and make them act not only as signal scanners but also modulate specific synapse impulses. Now, if only we would have someone on the inside…” A mock puzzled expression distorted Sigmund’s face. “Oh right, Gaby and I happen to work there.”

“Third, there’s Emily. The brightest scientific mind I have met, myself included, marinating in the basement of her virology institute, working on something that one day will either save or kill all humans, but we can’t know yet because of the god-damn NDAs.”

“And last, but… blah blah blah… not least, we have the best coder this side of the Universe, to program the shit out of this whole project.” As the fourth finger uncurled, Sigmund fixed his glance at Paul. “The same coder, who has been struggling to find a worthy challenge since he sold his shiny startup. The poor sap who has been swinging the angel investor dance with his pointless fortune and dabbling in open-source projects here and there, but who’s actually just bored as fuck.”

Paul said nothing, the passive-aggressive words landing harshly true, if he was being honest with himself. Sigmund leaned towards his buddy until their foreheads were practically touching.

“Tell me, Paul. Tell me, in all honesty, that you don’t have that itch in your balls to jump at this right now, with everything you’ve got!”

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Proceed to Part #2 »

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