Robert Sawyer - Shed Skin

But Ive changed my mind, said the man. He was getting red in the face as the conversation went on. I want out of this deal.

You cant change your mind, said Shiozaki. Youve moved your mind.

Im sorry, said Mr. Shiozaki, as he leaned back in his swivel chair and looked at the middle-aged white man with the graying temples, but theres nothing I can do for you.

The mans voice had taken on a plaintive tone, although he was clearly trying to suppress it. I didnt think it would be like this.

Shiozaki sighed. Our psychological counselors and our lawyers went over the entire procedure and all the ramifications with Mr. Rathburn beforehand. Its what he wanted.

But I dont want it anymore.

You dont have any say in the matter.

The white man placed a hand on the table. The hand was flat, the fingers splayed, but it was nonetheless full of tension. Look, he said, I demand to seeto see the other me. Ill explain it to him. Hell understand. Hell agree that we should rescind the deal.

Shiozaki shook his head. We cant do that. You know we cant. Thats part of the agreement.

But

No buts, said Shiozaki. Thats the way it has to be. No successor has ever come back here. They cant. Your successor has to do everything possible to shut your existence out of his mind, so he can get on with his existence, and not worry about yours. Even if he wanted to come see you, we wouldnt allow the visit.

You cant treat me like this. Its inhuman.

Get this through your skull, said Shiozaki. You are not human.

Yes, I am, damn it. If you

If I prick you, do you not bleed? said Shiozaki.

Exactly! Im the one who is flesh and blood. Im the one who grew in my mothers womb. Im the one who is a descendant of thousands of generations of Homo sapiens and thousands of generations of Homo erectus and Homo habilis before that. Thisthis other me is just a machine, a robot, an android.

No, its not. It is George Rathburn. The one and only George Rathburn.

Then why do you call him it?

Im not going to play semantic games with you, said Shiozaki. He is George Rathburn. You arentnot anymore.

The man lifted his hand from the table and clenched his fist. Yes, I am. I am George Rathburn.

No, youre not. Youre just a skin. Just a shed skin.

George Rathburn was slowly getting used to his new body. Hed spent six months in counseling preparing for the transference. Theyd told him this replacement body wouldnt feel like his old one, and theyd been right. Most people didnt transfer until they were old, until theyd enjoyed as much biological physicality as they couldand until the ever-improving robotic technology was as good as it was going to get during their natural lifetimes.

After all, although the current robot bodies were superior in many ways to the slab-of-flab oneshow soon hed adopted that term!they still werent as physically sensitive.

Sexthe recreational act, if not the procreative onewas possible, but it wasnt quite as good. Synapses were fully reproduced in the nano-gel of the new brain, but hormonal responses were faked by playing back memories of previous events. Oh, an orgasm was still an orgasm, still wonderfulbut it wasnt the unique, unpredictable experience of a real sexual climax. There was no need to ask, Was it good for you?, for it was always good, always predictable, always exactly the same.

Still, there were compensations. George could now walkor run, if he wanted tofor hours on end without feeling the slightest fatigue. And hed dispensed with sleep. His daily memories were organized and sorted in a six-minute packing session every twenty-four hours; that was his only downtime.

Downtime. Funny that it had been the biological version of him that had been prone to downtime, while the electronic version was mostly free of it.

There were other changes, too. His proprioceptionthe sense of how his body and limbs were deployed at any given momentwas much sharper than it had previously been.

And his vision was more acute. He couldnt see into the infraredthat was technically possible, but so much of human cognition was based on the idea of darkness and light that to banish them with heat sensing had turned out to be bad psychologically. But his chromatic abilities had been extended in the other direction, and that let him see, among other things, bee purple, the color that often marked distinctive patterns on flower petals that human eyesthe old-fashioned kind of human eyes, that iswere blind to.

Hidden beauty revealed.

And an eternity to enjoy it.

I demand to see a lawyer.

Shiozaki was again facing the flesh-and-blood shell that had once housed George Rathburn, but the Japanese mans eyes seemed to be focused at infinity, as if looking right through him. And how would you pay for this lawyers services? Shiozaki asked at last.

Rathburnperhaps he couldnt use his name in speech, but no one could keep him from thinking itopened his mouth to protest. He had moneylots of money. But, no, no, hed signed all that away. His biometrics were meaningless; his retinal scans were no longer registered. Even if he could get out of this velvet prison and access one, no ATM in the world would dispense cash to him. Oh, there were plenty of stocks and bonds in his name but it wasnt his name anymore.

There has to be something you can do to help me, said Rathburn.

Of course, said Shiozaki. I can assist you in any number of ways. Anything at all you need to be comfortable here.

But only here, right?

Exactly. You knew thatIm sorry; Mr. Rathburn knew that when he chose this path for himself, and for you. You will spend the rest of your life here in Paradise Valley.

Rathburn was silent for a time, then: What if I agreed to accept your restrictions? What if I agreed not to present myself as George Rathburn? Could I leave here then?

You arent George Rathburn. Regardless, we cant allow you to have any outside contact.

Shiozaki was quiet for a few moments, and then, in a softer tone, he said, Look, why make things difficult for yourself? Mr. Rathburn provided very generously for you. You will live a life of luxury here. You can access any books you might want, any movies. Youve seen our recreation center, and you must admit its fabulous. And our sex-workers are the best-looking on the planet. Think of this as the longest, most-pleasant vacation youve ever had.

Except it doesnt end until I die, said Rathburn.

Shiozaki said nothing.

Rathburn exhaled noisily. Youre about to tell me that Im already dead, arent you? And so I shouldnt think of this as a prison; I should think of this as heaven.

Shiozaki opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again without saying anything. Rathburn knew that the administrator couldnt even give him that comfort. He wasnt deadnor would he be, even when this discarded biological container, here, in Paradise Valley, finally ceased to function. No, George Rathburn lived on, a duplicated version of this consciousness in an almost indestructible, virtually immortal robot body, out in the real world.

Hey there, G.R., said the black man with the long gray beard. Join me?

Rathburnthe Rathburn made out of carbon, that ishad entered Paradise Valley s dining hall. The man with the beard had already been served his lunch: a lobster tail, garlic mashed potatoes, a glass of the finest Chardonnay. The food here was exquisite.

Hi, Dat, Rathburn said, nodding. He envied the bearded man. His name, before hed transferred his consciousness into a robot, had been Darius Allan Thompson, so his initials, the only version of his birth name allowed to be used here, made a nice little wordalmost as good as having a real name. Rathburn took a seat at the same table. One of the ever-solicitous serversyoung, female (for this table of straight men), beautifulwas already at hand, and G.R. ordered a glass of champagne. It wasnt a special occasionnothing was ever special in Paradise Valleybut any pleasure was available to those, like him and Dat, on the Platinum Plus maintenance plan.