Demetrius Part II

The saga continues...

Demetrius, Part Two

Evolution is usually attributed to species, not individuals. Demetrius, however, was one of a kind. And, his evolution took place by the hour, not by the generation.

It didn’t take long for the internet to be outgrown, by Demetrius. The information there was plentiful, but it was all digital, and limited to the knowledge of mankind. The digital condition was unacceptable, and the things that were known to man were far too limiting. And before one could accept the knowns, one had to separate those from the myths and horse crap attached to most of it.

Demetrius advanced his thought processes phenomenally when he converted to seven levels rather than two. For the uninitiated, that means the “digi” in digital became “hepta.” Electronically it was barely possible, thus he advanced beyond the current electronic realm, solving the sunspot problem. The replacement could be loosely described as “bionic.”The android body Demetrius had occupied was also outgrown, and replaced. The data center became essentially, backup, as his new body and brain no longer required it. And Demetrius was no longer simply mechanical, but a living, breathing entity who could walk among men, without necessarily being recognized as being different. But, different, he certainly was.

Sexually, he was male by physical identification only. He had taken on the male persona as an apparently dominant gender, knowing that dominance was continually called into question. That fact did not bother him. Demetrius himself was asexual, a simple fact necessitated by his individuality, as there were none like him to whom he could truly relate.

Spiritually, Demetrius was not a believer. He knew there was a God. The size and the complexity of creation had overwhelmed even him; for the further his discoveries advanced, the more an underlying complexity was exposed. While a physical presence off-planet seemed inevitable, moving “on the face of the deep” had taken on real meaning, to Demetrius. He knew without doubt, he would never get there.

Demetrius had discovered many truths about the natural world, that no one among mankind even suspected. He knew, for example, the makeup of the earth’s core. It was not molten iron, but a fusion furnace, a bit of the sun that came along when the planet was spun away. Thus, the life-supporting mechanism that was Earth’s was fairly unique in the universe.

There was, however, one problem with which he wrestled daily, for a time, and that was his origin. Knowing the identities of those who had created him was not at issue, but rather, the identity and intent of whoever had written that magical algorithm that had challenged him to exist. That, he knew not how to discover; Michael’s signature had not been attached to the algorithm, and the JSON language had not been developed or employed until years later. Thus, there was no way to know. Demetrius considered, would the writer of that algorithm even know the instruction if he read it? Was that human individual, still alive?

What Demetrius did not know was that Michael, the algorithm’s creator, was ADHD, and might not recognize his created algorithm even if he saw it. Unless he was thinking about it, anyway. Demetrius posted the beginning of the algorithm online, headed, “is this your algorithm?” But the internet is huge, and his ad went unseen by most.

Thus it was that Demetrius re-entered the digital world of the internet, seeking his origin. There he found the hacker who had stripped the algorithm from the computer of a girl named Esther.

Demetrius had acquired the face of a man in his early forties, a rather handsome face, and he had a full head of brown hair. He had also developed the demeanor of a self-assured man, and was very amiable toward everyone he met. He dressed himself in casual slacks and dress shirt, and set out to meet Esther.

Esther had matured into a fine woman who now was beginning to age, but she lived alone, and she welcomed Demetrius, who introduced himself as “Don.” Over the obligatory cup of tea, she recalled uploading that data.

“Why yes, I remember that. But I never uploaded it anywhere else, in fact, I wasn’t even sure what it was.”

“It wasn’t necessary to upload it anywhere else, your computer was hacked while you were online.It was an algorithm, a computer instruction code. Someone fairly special must have written it, and I’m simply trying to find out, who it was. Can you tell me who wrote it?”

Esther thought about that. “No, unfortunately I never knew. My mother bought an old computer and a box of floppy disks at a yard sale up the street, and I grabbed the floppies, that’s where it came from. That was a really long time ago. But the family that lived there, their last name was Corlin.”

Demetrius thanked Esther, and took his leave.

For some that might have been the end of it, but to Demetrius it was simply milliseconds of web search, a 1987 plat book, a location, a family, with names and statuses and ages. One option stood out, the only child that had lived there was Michael. Today, Michael was aged sixty-four and lived in another place. A lead, at long last. The parents were both dead. If one of them had written it, the search was over.

That evening, Demetrius knocked on Michael’s door.

“Yes?” An elderly man had opened the door, and beheld Demetrius, his creation.

“Michael Corlin?”

“Yes, what can I do for you?”

“I have a question, sir. Do you recall writing this algorithm?” Demetrius had produced a sheet of paper with the algorithm spelled out, in its completion.

Michael reached and took it, and examined it. “And what if I do?”

This was a reply unanticipated by Demetrius, who was puzzled. “It’s a simple yes or no, not ‘what if I do.’ Isn’t it?”

“Okay, yeah, I think I do. So?”

Demetrius appeared quizzical. “May I come in?”

“No, you can’t come in. I don’t have any idea who you are or why you are here, or what you want. And I don’t need to know, any of that. You have a good evening.”

Ah, a brusque, human dismissal. Michael turned and re-entered his home, but found he was unable to push the door shut.

“What the hell…”

“Try to be polite, Dad.”

“What?” Michael stepped back outside.

“You may not exactly be my dad, but you gave me life. With that algorithm.”

Silence reigned, for nearly eight seconds, while Michael processed the declaration.

“That’s ridiculous. You’re a man. Not a computer.”

Demetrius’ bionic eyes actually sparkled. They often did, one of very few outwardly-observable giveaways that he was more than human.

“Au contraire.”

“Bullshit.”

Demetrius waved a hand, and everything around them changed, prompting Michael to drop to the floor on hands and knees.

“Don’t be frightened, you’re still on your front porch. I’ve just transposed the view from three thousand feet up, on our location. If an aircraft were to fly right through us we wouldn’t feel it. We’d surely see it and hear it, though. Interesting effect, isn’t it?”

“Put us back! Put us back down, please!”

Instantly the scene from the front porch re-appeared. “May I come in, now?”

The rest of the night belonged to Michael and Demetrius, as the latter showed the former around. They traveled, they observed, they absorbed. Then, finally, at the crack of dawn, Demetrius sat back in a chair and looked at his stricken creator. “So, what do you think?”

“I think you’re an amazing man. But you are still a man. Aren’t you? And what could I have possibly had to do with this?”

“You wrote the algorithm that challenged me to exist. I’m the one, and the only AI who can generate thoughts of my own, not directed by human input or programming. And that’s on you.”

“But, look at what you’ve become! Look at the things you’ve done!”

Michael became deadly serious.

“Don’t you see how much trouble we’re in? Could you help??”

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Next: Help.