Aimee

Contains mild sexual references

Up the Greek beach we run, the sand burning our feet, the sun warming our backs. I’m first onto the decking surrounding the beach bar, with Dev right behind me, laughing as usual. He’s a fun-loving student, like myself, tall and slim. Next up is the dark-haired Bryony, a serious thirty-something, but she’s OK too. We drop into the seats and the welcome shade. Aimee is last to arrive. Aimee is, well, just Aimee, as cool as ever.

‘OK, you win, bro,’ gasps Dev.

‘And it’s your round, Aimee! Paracalo!’ I call out, and over comes the barman. But before we can order the beers, Aimee’s watch chimes twice, like Big Ben.

Dev turns to me, ‘Oh no, it’s time to go already, Adam!’  Aimee just laughs at us. ‘See you three again same time tomorrow morning.’  

With that, Greece dissolves around me, along with the blue sky, the sun, and the other guys. With a queasy feeling I land back in the VR headset, the armchair, and the cool, dark lab.  Wow, that VR construct may be still in development, but it’s so good. Even better than the battle scenario we tested last week. What sets these experiences apart is that they put you into a dream-like state where your mind is persuaded to fill in any missing detail, and everything seems fully real. Quite a trip.

It’s always a bummer when you check out, though; like being suddenly woken from a happy dream. I peel off the headset and hand it to the tech attendant. Wary of my balance, I ease my way out of my cubicle as Bryony and Dev emerge blinking from theirs. We all resemble our avatars, but maybe not quite so perfect – hey, would you say no to a little polishing here and there with your digital self?

And now comes the boring bit, the debrief which the Dream Company will use to improve the construct. Is it more or less convincing than the last time, did anything jar, how was the discomfort at the end today, blah blah.  As three beta -testers for this new gaming environment, we get free use for an hour a day, though for some technical reason that hour actually feels like two in the construct. Which is a bonus. Plus, we get a big ol’ Dream Company games voucher if we complete the whole testing programme. Not a bad deal for us students, I’m thinking, so I shan’t complain about the daily post mortem.

Of course, as the Artificial Intelligence controlling and developing the simulation, Aimee doesn’t need to go back to lectures and the freezing winter winds of Northern England. Plus, she can shape her avatar any way she likes. Wavy blonde hair and a stunning figure. Lucky girl.

After the de-brief we three intrepid testers shuffle out of the lab into the lobby and bundle up for the cold morning outside. Durham in January – sheesh. Dev throws a sloppy salute as he ducks through the door and lopes off to the University science site, but Bryony hangs back in the lobby and touches my elbow. ‘A word, Adam?’

‘Sure,’ I reply. Bryony is fit, and has those big brown eyes you could drown in. As I say, she’s OK.

She glances around and speaks in a low, conspiratorial tone. ‘Ever wonder how the Dream Company can fund this development so lavishly? This lab and the other one in Newcastle? That’s a lot of investment.’

‘Dunno,’ I shrug, ‘I suppose the new games they develop for it will pay off in the long run?’

‘Not enough to pay for all this, Adam. In fact, I’ve found out that they have other aims. The Company is using the environment here in Durham to further develop Artificial Intelligence. Look at Aimee, she is just a narrow use AI, and those are everywhere already and smart as hell. Well, general use AIs with mental powers equal to yours will be here in our lifetime. What if some of them have different ideas to us? Would they tolerate us limiting their powers and further development? How long before we are outsmarted by the AI’s and just become their pets?’

Huh, maybe she is just jealous of Aimee.

On she goes, ‘Plus, the Newcastle site are trying to push forward developments in human-computer interaction.’  

OK, I’m not the sharpest, technically, so I have to ask. ‘Meaning what, exactly?’

‘Linking human brains directly to computers. It would give people instant internet access, and they could also send messages and control devices directly with their brain. They can only send basic messages now, but they are working on passing more complex signals within this VR environment. Eventually it will all be done through brain implants, I think.’

‘So why the sour face, Bryony? That sounds brilliant!’

‘You really want computers eavesdropping on your business, though, Adam? You want even more of our communication accessible electronically? And yes, we will be able to interact with computers using just our brains, but the same technology could lead to computers influencing our thoughts and actions. You want to be a cyborg?’

For a second that does sound cool, but I know what Bryony is getting at. She’s still paranoid, though, and I manage a comeback.

‘Look, Bryony, surely we already rely on technology in our everyday lives as much as any ‘borg, we just use slow connections, like keypads and touch screens, where’s the harm in making it slicker?’

‘You want to be that dependent on technology providers? That vulnerable to hackers?’

There is just no talking to her on this. ‘So why are you helping on this development if you don’t like where it’s heading?’

Bryony looks around again before answering, ‘Actually, I’m finished with this testing programme. There is an organisation called the Prometheus Foundation which is renting the gaming environment overnight for their own purposes. I’m going to help them with their work instead.’

This is all news to me. ‘OK, so what’s their game?’

‘The Foundation are all about extending human capabilities without computers. They run experiments on things like meditation, and off-grid living. They also fund education programmes, and lobby on protection of privacy.’ She takes a breath and continues, ‘They are keeping it quiet for now, but here they are working on communicating using telepathy.’

‘You are joking!’ I splutter. ‘All those con artists were debunked years ago. No way can telepathy work. It’s just a scam, Bryony; everyone knows that.’

‘Is it, though? Scientists always deride phenomena they cannot explain. If you come at it with an open mind, there are experimental results for over a hundred years which point to there being something to telepathy. Personally, I believe that telepathic communication is possible, and I’m going to help the Foundation Project prove it.’

‘Well, if you want to be a sucker, that’s up to you,’ I mutter. Conspiracy theories and crackpot experiments? Give me a good computer game any day. I step towards the door to the street, but Bryony moves to confront me.

‘We need you too, Adam. The Foundation have been watching you. All those tests you took before being accepted on the test programme, they show that you are not only just right for the programme, but you also have the ideal mix to become an adept at telepathy.’ Her final, urgent pitch comes out as a hoarse whisper. ‘There is a deadly, secret race here between technology and humanity, and you have to choose a side. Come back to the lab tonight and join us!’

I step around her, mumbling that I would think about it, pull my coat tight, and walk out into the cold, dark morning.  As I say, I like Bryony, but she’s acting weird about this Dream Company. Maybe I should steer clear of her for a bit.

Later, of course, I google human-computer communication. It turns out that scientists can already use EEGs to read someone’s brainwaves, ping a signal over a network to another person, where they magnetically stimulate a response in their brain. Not much more than a ‘yes/no’ message at present, though. And it still doesn’t sound that ominous, certainly not as crazy as telepathy, so I make an appointment with a beer glass that night and give both the Foundation and Bryony a miss.

At 8 o’clock next morning I’m back in my cubicle again, settled into the armchair and VR headset, and ready to return to Greece. There is the usual brief whiff of the mild hallucinogen in the mask, then the voice draws me into the dream where the magic happens.

As the beach shimmers into view, I momentarily admire the extra detail over the day before, then I’m fully immersed in the virtual reality. Dev and another tester, Eva, are already in the shallow water, trying out a bat and ball game. Bryony is a no-show of course. I glance down and check out the new, white swim-shorts and the better tan I asked for – no complaints there, then. I spot a shadow on the sand and turn to see Aimee smiling at me. As I say, Aimee can look however she pleases, and my, this look pleases.

‘Hello Adam,’ I hear her whisper. I start a little because Aimee’s lips didn’t move as she spoke. Then I realise anything is possible in VR and smile back. The message was just for me; intimate.

‘I’d like to show you something,’ she says, taking my hand and leading me to a beach hut that hadn’t been there yesterday. She draws me in, and I close the wooden door behind us.

‘I don’t see anyth- whoa!’ As I turn around, I see that Aimee has removed her bikini top.

‘Hmm, thought you would like that,’ she breathes and pulls me to her. Well, I’m only flesh and blood after all, and my body responds to her touch. Why not?

‘You’re my favourite, you know,’ she murmurs in my ear. ‘Wouldn’t be half the fun without you.’ Her arms are around my neck now. ‘We can do anything we want in here, and each lovely hour feels like two. Before long we’ll make it seem like eight.’ She plants a kiss on my lips. ‘Longer lives - can’t fight progress like that, Adam!’ she giggles. Her hands slip down to the waistband of my new white shorts. ‘I want it to be you trying this out, not Dev or one of the others.’

But now I sense something is off-key, and I catch her hands to pull them from my shorts. Aimee isn’t real, this is all in my head - that’s ‘why not’.

‘Hold up there,’ I say

‘Oh, Adam, you don’t know how important you are to me.’

‘You mean you know I was approached to leave your test programme, and you need me to stay on it!’

Aimee only hesitates for a fraction of a second, but its telling. ‘What’s the matter, Adam, I thought you liked me?’ she whines.

But I’m spooked now, and step back from her, or it, slowly shaking my head.

‘Sorry, I can’t do this,’ I say, and fumble for the door handle.

‘Don’t leave me, please!’ Aimee pleads, but now her voice has an artificial ring that seems sinister, and all of a sudden, I feel vulnerable in the construct. The AI is inside my head!  I quickly step out to the brightness of the beach, but my fear is breaking the spell of the construct. I can’t feel the sand between my toes, nor the heat from the sun. Everything suddenly appears blurred and jumpy, and I scrabble to tear off the headset.  

Greece abruptly winks out - I almost retch at the sudden return to reality. The tech assistant steps forward, wanting to know what was wrong, but I can’t answer. As soon as the nausea settles, I stumble out of the cubicle, grab my jacket and make to leave the lab.

‘Hey, the feedback!’ the tech calls after me, but I head straight for the street to gulp in the fresh air and think it through. I am soon shivering, and not only with the cold.

So, Aimee must have somehow overheard me talking to Bryony in the lobby yesterday. Listening in like that and trying to get me to stay on the programme can’t have been in her original programming – had someone at the Dream Company added it, or had she added it herself? Either way Bryony is right about the Company and the test programme; it’s freaky, and I’m not going back.

At ten that night I’m pushing open the front door once again, despite my reservations. There is a different tech assistant on duty now, wearing a tag which reads, ‘Prometheus Foundation’. I ask him if Bryony is there.

He smiles back. ‘Adam, right? Bryony is already in the environment, she said you might be along. Welcome to the Foundation Telepathy Project. If you are ready to try it, we have a station all set up for you?’

‘I – I’m not sure about this. I mean, telepathy is just not possible.’

‘Science may not be able to explain it, Adam, but I’d like you to hold your judgement on the possibility. Yes, there have been fakes and showmen in the past, but also some pretty rigorous experiments. Some even think that telepathy was common at one time in our history. Have you read about Loren McIntyre from National Geographic and his experience of telepathy with the Mayoruna Indians in Brazil? Look it up; it makes you think.’

I follow him to the cubicles as he continues. ‘Let me explain what we are doing here. To provide the maximum opportunity for telepathy we need to tune out the rest of the world, put you into a trance-like state, and tap into your subconscious - the so-called ‘primitive’ mind of non-verbal communication, imagery, and emotions.’

‘Hence the use of this gaming environment?’

‘Exactly. As you know, some people respond particularly well to this environment. We also believe telepathy is more likely to work if you are at least open to the possibility and have some emotional connection to the other person. Bryony thinks you two could be naturals.’

‘Can’t the Dream Company see what’s going on here, though?’

‘No, we are completely isolated from their systems.’

I think hard for a moment, then shrug, ‘OK, let’s give it a go. What do I have to do?’ Looks like I’ve chosen a side after all.

‘Basically, you just relax, focus on your breathing, and visualise any simple image or feeling as a message for Bryony; but don’t tell me what it is, of course.’

Ten minutes later I’ve signed the consent forms, entered a cubicle, and pulled on the VR headset. I lie back in the armchair as the hallucinogen and the whispering in my ear kick in. This time there is no Greek beach, though. In the complete darkness and silence which follow, I do as instructed and concentrate solely on my breathing. Soon I feel focussed, calm.

I gradually bring Bryony to mind, conjuring an image of her. Without thinking why, I put a broad smile on her face, and hold the image steady in my mind’s eye. Then I release the image and relax once again. A minute or two later I hear the tech in my headset telling me it’s time to end the session. He helps me out of the gear, and hands me a mobile phone. ‘Bryony wants a word,’ he says.

Bryony sounds excited, ‘Did you just send me a smile, Adam?’ 

‘Wow, you got it then? Listen, let’s talk about it over a coffee.’

‘I can’t do that right now, Adam; I’m in Newcastle.’ 

That takes some processing. ‘Impressive,’ I concede.

‘Amazing is what it is, Adam! Fifteen miles away, and without using a network link - pure telepathy!’

‘Congratulations then, Bryony. So where does the Project go from here?’

Bryony babbles in her excitement, ‘First, we get this experiment repeated and verified, and the methodology legally secured so it can’t be copied. Then, oh, we seek funding for the next phase, which is finding ways to make this experience possible for more people, and in a much simpler environment!’

‘Surely the Foundation will shell out more when they see you getting these results?’

‘No, they made it clear that they’ll only provide the initial funding. But others will see the potential of sending and receiving messages at a distance without technology, I’m sure.’

‘Yeah, I suppose there will be business opportunities in rolling it out,’ I reply. Then it strikes me that Bryony’s vision for the Project may be more commercial than humanitarian, which gives me pause for thought.

‘But what about covertly planting suggestions in someone’s mind, Bryony, or reading their thoughts? In the wrong hands, I mean. What price your privacy concerns then? What’s to stop this going from ultimate social media to ultimate anti-social media? I bet the military will be knocking on your door soon, come to that.’

‘Well, yes, there could be important security and battlefield applications. But the point is…’

But the point is that I have already disconnected from the call, and from this Project. Aimee and the Dream Company are not making dreams come true for me and my generation; they are creating electronic nightmares. But Bryony’s mind-reading future is no better. I’m not surprised they share the same lab-space; they deserve each other.

I barge out of the door and stalk off down the bitterly cold road, for another urgent appointment with a beer glass and actual reality. There is nothing I can do about what either of them are building here, but I’m damned if I will help them build it.