Episode 1
My name is Roy Michaelson, and today is the first day of the rest of my life.
At least that’s what I told myself as I peered at my reflection in the mirror. I was not the man I'd been just a few years earlier. I was no longer the Marine jarhead who had seen more combat than any person should. Nor was I the college student, studying on the G.I. Bill. I was no longer a self-proclaimed life-long bachelor. And I was no longer the young man who was lucky enough to get a job working for a Silicon Valley start-up. No, I was no longer any of those things.
Looking in the mirror, I only saw the gaunt, emaciated form of a man dying from cancer.
Only thirty-five years old, I had stage 4 liver cancer that had metastasized to my lungs. I'd been through targeted chemotherapy and radiation treatments, and was currently receiving nanobot injections in an attempt to thwart the cancer. But stage 4 was stage 4, and my prognosis was not good.
“You ready?” Carolyn asked.
We had met at a conference six years earlier. The first time I saw her, I was smitten. And on our first date, I found that she was as intelligent as she was beautiful. I knew, then and there, that my bachelor days were over.
My wife had come to be my rock over the past six months. Supporting and nurturing me through my whole ordeal. And for that, I truly loved her.
But the thought of going to work today scared me. I would not be attending as the vice president I was. I would be checking myself in as a patient.
Sure, work was where I received my weekly nanobot injections. But those were discreetly administered behind the closed door of my office. This time, I would be undergoing cutting-edge surgery that was sure to draw a crowd.
Uploading a human mind, a human consciousness, into a computer was still an extremely experimental procedure. And everything had to match up perfectly before the upload could be attempted. I had had to endure a barrage of tests, administered off site, and had passed them all with flying colors. I was scheduled to have my consciousness uploaded into a quantum supercomputer later that day. And hopefully, in the near future, downloaded into a fully functioning robot.
“Yeah,” I said. “Let's get this over with.”
She came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my thin torso.
“You're going to do fine,” she said, beaming at me in the mirror. “Everything is going to go great.”
I turned around to face her.
“Thank you,” I said.
“For what?”
“For everything,” I said and kissed her.
Carolyn insisted on driving, despite the fact that I had driven myself to work every day since the diagnosis. But I was too tired and nervous to argue with her. So I climbed into the passenger seat and let her deal with traffic.
Life Extension Technologies was housed in a nondescript building in Palo Alto, California. Over the past ten years, L.E.T. had developed everything from fully integrated artificial limbs, to nanobots designed to treat everything from broken bones to cancer, to their latest advancement, mind uploading. Early on, the company had managed to recruit some of the brightest minds in medical research and technology. Their continued advancements meant that funding was rarely a problem.
When people talked about L.E.T., they were talking about a state-of-the-art company that could do the impossible. I only hoped the company I had called home for the past ten years could work their miracles on me.
As Carolyn pulled the late model Mercedes into my assigned parking space, my assistant approached the car with a wheelchair.
“Penny, I walk into the office every day,” I said as I got out of the car.
Ignoring my objections, Penny turned to my wife. “Hi, Carolyn.”
“Hi, Penny.”
“Nervous about today?” Penny asked my wife.
It was like I wasn't even standing there.
“Surprisingly, no,” Carolyn said, grabbing my packed bag from the back seat. “I have a good feeling about today. And I know everyone here is going to take good care of him.” She threw a smile in my direction.
Penny wheeled the chair up next to me, reaching down and locking the chair's brakes.
“Come on, Roy,” Penny said, finally acknowledging me. “You're a patient now. Sit down and let the rest of us do our jobs.”
Several people wished me good luck as Penny pushed me through the building's lobby and to the elevator. No one seemed surprised to see me in the wheelchair.
I wondered if they had been forewarned, or if they had known about my illness all along. Remembering my reflection in the mirror, I figured it was the latter.
Carolyn and Penny continued to ignore me, sharing the latest gossip on the elevator ride up to the second floor. Though Carolyn worked as a speech therapist for the local school district, my position as vice president meant that she knew all the major players in the company and many of the minor ones, and of course she talked to Penny several times a day. My wife and my assistant were actually fairly good friends.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Penny wheeled me toward the patient area.
“Aren't we going to stop by the office?” I questioned.
“No!” the two women in my life said in unison.
“You're not here to work,” Carolyn admonished.
“You're here to undergo a groundbreaking medical procedure,” Penny said. “So forget about going to the office and let the rest of us take care of you.”
I did not bother arguing. This was not the first time the two women in my life had tag-teamed against me, and I knew from experience that when they were in sync, I had no chance. So I sat back in the chair, and tried to relax and enjoy the ride.
I was assigned a private room. I knew the term “private room” was a misnomer. Everybody and their brother would have access. But it was the best room on the second floor, befitting not only my status within the company but also the rarity of the procedure. Mind uploading had only been attempted a handful of times at L.E.T., and it had only been successful twice before. Though even when the upload itself failed, the patients still made a full recovery after the surgery. Or as much of a full recovery as a terminally ill patient can make.
I entered the bathroom and changed into a very humiliating gown, the same type of gown I would get in a hospital. I did my best to tie the back but eventually gave up and called Carolyn to help. Once everything was secured, I picked up my clothes and exited the bathroom.
“Where's Penny?” I asked.
“She had some things to check on,” my wife answered. “She said she'd be back before the surgery.”
I nodded. The surgery. Twelve-plus hours of them poking around inside my head, of stimulating the areas of the brain that made me me, and transferring the synaptic responses into a supercomputer. It both excited me and scared the shit out of me.
“What time is it scheduled?” she asked.
“Ten thirty,” I said, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was only eight fifteen.
“Why don't you try to get some rest,” she suggested.
“Good idea,” I said. “It's going to be a long day.”
But rest wouldn't come. Despite getting almost no sleep the night before, I was too nervous, too anxious, to sleep. Plus I was hungry. I had not been allowed to eat or drink anything since last night. I never could sleep with my stomach growling.
I tossed and turned. At one point, I rolled over to see Carolyn standing at the window. At first glance, she appeared to be admiring the scenery, but the sudden rise and fall of her shoulders told me she was crying.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
Carolyn turned around. Her eyes were wet.
I threw the covers aside and went to my wife. “Everything is going to be fine.” I wrapped her in my arms.
“Aren’t you scared?” she asked.
“Of course,” I said, rubbing her back. “But I trust Dr. Kumar and the rest of the surgical team. And I have seeing you in the recovery room to look forward to. That thought alone is enough to get me through the surgery.” I gave her a wan smile.
“But they're going to cut into your brain.”
“Yes, we are,” Dr. Kumar said from the doorway. “Good morning, Roy, Carolyn. Sorry to interrupt.” He entered the room and shook my hand.
Carolyn gave Kumar a hug.
“I just wanted to stop in and see how you were doing before the surgery,” Kumar said. He took a sip from the coffee cup he was holding.
“I’m nervous as hell,” I admitted. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Kumar smiled. “That's to be expected. This is a big day. And brain surgery like this is never routine,” he said. “But I haven’t lost a patient yet, and I don’t plan on starting today. I'll have Trina administer a sedative when she hooks up your IV. That should help you relax.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Carolyn said.
“Roy, I'll see you in the OR,” Kumar said on his way out the door.
Trina arrived a few minutes later, carrying an IV bag and catheter.
“Good morning, Roy.”
“Hi, Trina.”
“And you must be Carolyn. I'm Trina, the head OR nurse. I'll be the one updating you on Roy's progress during the procedure.”
“Nice to meet you,” Carolyn said.
Trina then turned to me. She inserted the IV needle into the crook of my arm and hung the bag on the stand. When she was sure the saline in the bag was dripping into my arm, she pulled a syringe out of her pocket. She inserted the syringe into the port in the catheter that connected the bag to my arm and depressed the plunger.
I felt an almost immediate relief of my anxiety when she pushed the dose of sedative through the line.
“You're all set, Roy,” she said. “They should be in to take you to the OR about ten o'clock.” She headed toward the door. “Nice to meet you, Carolyn.”
* * *
“Roy,” Carolyn whispered, rubbing my arm.
“Yeah,” I mumbled. For a moment, I was disoriented. Why was Carolyn waking me up?
“They're here to take you to surgery,” she said.
Surgery?
I opened my eyes. This wasn't my bedroom.
Then it all came flooding back to me.
I was surprised I'd fallen asleep.
I looked around the room. Carolyn was standing over my bed, looking beautiful, as always. Penny had returned, standing near the foot of my bed. And by the door stood a large orderly that I recognized but did not know.
“Time to go, Mr. Michaelson,” the orderly said. He walked out the doorway and returned, pushing a gurney.
I got out of bed and hopped up onto the gurney. I swung my legs up and lay back.
Penny stepped forward, kissed me on the cheek. “Good luck, Roy.”
I smiled at my assistant. “Thank you, Penny,” I said, squeezing her hand.
Next it was Carolyn's turn. “I love you,” she said and kissed me. When she pulled away, there were again tears in her eyes.
“I love you, too,” I replied. “Everything is going to be fine. I'll see you in the recovery room. I promise.”
“You better keep that promise,” she said.
We hugged and kissed one last time.
The orderly pushed the gurney out the door and down the hall to the Operating Room.
“Hi, Roy,” Trina greeted me through a surgical mask. “How are you doing?”
“I've been better.”
Her eyes crinkled at the edges. She was smiling at me.
“Well, just relax and let us do the work,” she advised. “Before you know it, it will all be over.”
She and the orderly transferred me onto the operating table. The orderly started to strap me down.
“So you don't fall off,” Trina explained while she attached sensors to my chest. She also put a blood pressure cuff on my arm and an oxygen saturation monitor on my finger. Once I was all hooked up, she put a warm blanket over me.
“Thank you,” I said. I had not realized how cold I was.
“It does get kind of chilly in here,” she said.
Dr. Kumar arrived not long after the orderly left.
“You ready for this, Roy?” he asked.
“Ready as I'll ever be.”
“Good.” He turned to the nurses and technicians in the room. “Everyone set?”
Though I could only see Trina nod, I assumed Kumar got the responses he was looking for.
Finally, Kumar looked in the anesthesiologist's direction. “Put him under while I go scrub in.”
Dr. Hopkins, the anesthesiologist, stepped into my line of sight. “Okay, Roy,” he said. “I want you to count backwards from one hundred.”
I remembered getting as far as ninety-eight.