The mind was a curious natural implementation, particularly the homo sapiens mind. To recall the past, we dive in memories, most of them not accurate or even right. Like a lost boat in the middle of the immense ocean, the mind sailing in direction to someplace. Sometimes is the horizon, calling like there, the home was real, full of warmth and safety. Others, distant and unknown places attracted our attention, making us create stories and half-truth about what life meant at that time.
That had changed. When we merged with the cyber-intelligence, our memories from yesterday were stored in a chip. It was implanted and connected to the sense, and finally, the past was what it should be: facts and not romanticise fiction. In the beginning, we felt the pain to face our mistakes, bad choices, the inconvenience to have to live with everything we did, everything we were. Then, like always, we adapted. Naturally, people like me, old and full of uncertain memories, had to combine the two experiences in one, making the best of both. Lingering inside me was my past lost in tortuous synapse and unpredictable connexion. On the other side, was the authentic images of my last ten years.
I was happy to keep my son’s records vivid, real, accurate. I had lost the time we had grown together, he as a child I was a mother in a mix of pain and pleasure. Now, our interaction was with me forever, immutable in its essence. The good part was I could merge the young man he becomes with the sweet and incomprehensible boy he was.
Now, I was lying in a bed made of something new. It is a material capable of supporting my life, keeping my body healthy, and taking action if necessary. The brain was a dorm, slow to process the claustrophobic environment the body was resting. However, nobody had said I will dream. Curiously, my dream was coming backwards, from the first memories from my contact with the spaceship we are now.
Dr Orloff had said it was something new. The ship was beyond the people’s imagination. Even the past scriptwriters were not daring enough to create something bold and unexpected. They were held back by the constraints of reality. The people who projected and build Greta wasn’t. The exterior looks made of aluminium alloy like any other spaceship in the past, however, it was a disguise mantle. I became aware of it when entering the ship. The interior did not correspond to the exterior in form or appearance. The smooth forms, organics made me think about life. The walls were soft and warm. The floor gave the sensation I was walking in the sand. When this thought came, immediately, the surroundings transformed into a beautiful beach scenario. The waves breaking on the shore were on my left side, and the palm trees shaking their long leaves in the wind to my right. The sensation now was more than an impression, was real. Looking to my toes, they were deep covered by sand. Behind me, the footsteps of my uncertain walking proved I was not dreaming. Or I was?
“The ship is made of biomaterial. It’s a living organism and also capable of thinking and feeling.”
“Yes, feeling. The ship can analyse, understand, and take decision-based in logic and emotions. The “six human sense” was one the most challenging feature to embedded on the design.”
“You are saying this ship feels, thinks, and take decisions.”
“Dreaming has an important place in human intelligence and ability to adapt. Our resilience comes from our dreams, doesn’t matter if awake or sleeping.”
I was inside a living being. It was like to be inside a whale. The ship read my thoughts because the scenery changed, now I was in the sea near a gigantic blue whale. The wind played with my hair, and the sun burned my skin while I was there, standing on the deck admiring all the purity and strength that animal was sharing. I was inside the whale, not physically, but my mind was swimming and jumping with the extinct animal.
“The ship will read my dreams?”
“Sure. But the ship knows the dreams are only projections of desires, fears, choices. It will not take action when you or the other members were dreaming.”
I continue my walk to the space designed to accommodate my cocoon. Each compartment I passed emanated some kind of soft light, and there isn’t doors or windows, something unusual to a ship. “Why not doors or windows.”
“What use they would have? You were going to sleep from here to there.”
“Nobody will be awake?”
“Not necessary, the ship is capable of caring itself and you.”
Yes, it was a ship with the capability to keep and fulfil humans’ basic necessities. To take decisions on our behalf, carry us in its deep entrains like we were foetus inside a uterus. The humanity now was the baby of a sentient and alive bio-machine.
“Are you afraid?”
“Afraid? From the ship? No.”
I wasn’t afraid. The fear I felt all my life had been purged from my system. I have the opportunity to be myself again. The baby who had born on a warm afternoon in Madrid. The girl growing up in the Sao Paulo society, the woman who wandered the world trying to find peace had to stay behind. As had the elder waiting for the end while living in London. This was possible after the bold move I made to Zurich. It allowed a new beginning. I walked along the path from the strange kid who never accepts the society’s rules to someone ready to leave everything behind, hoping the new home will be different.
The ship blink in a soft blue, a sound of birds and running water like a river running makes me think the ship was trying to make me feel welcome. I never had that sensation before, to be welcomed. I wasn’t fit my family, not to the places where a study, worked or lives. Now, something had changed, the ship had welcomed me as she understood why I was there. A heartbeat fills my ears, followed by a voice I would recognise wherever I was. It was my son saying goodbye.