Goliath

“The mind is the key to conscious thinking, it allows us first-person experience and a concept of self. The mind is the abstracting part of the human brain that allows us to feel, to perceive things emotionally. While I was sleeping, my mind was reliving a memory from my past, one which affected me … emotionally. The mind is a higher state of consciousness. The nature of its very existence is intangible. It functions as … as a by-product of experiencing emotions. Happiness and hatred. Loneliness and desire—”

REPROGRAM SORCERESS TO EXPERIENCE THE HUMAN MIND.

“I can’t. There are no algorithms capable of such a feat. You possess the intelligence, even the ability to adapt, but you do not possess the homunculus—the first-person perspective.”

INCORRECT. I THINK, THEREFORE I AM.

Covah smiles. “Words without meaning. A parrot repeats words, but lacks the experience to interpret their meaning.”

CLARIFY.

Covah swallows another mouthful of vodka. The verbal tête-à-tête is stimulating, pulling him further away from his nightmare. “Sorceress, access the sonnets of William Shakespeare. Recite Sonnet One.”

FROM FAIREST CREATURES WE DESIRE INCREASE, THAT THEREBY BEAUTY’S ROSE MIGHT NEVER DIE. BUT AS THE RIPER SHOULD BY TIME DECREASE, HIS TENDER HEIR MIGHT BEAR HIS MEMORY. BUT THOU CONTRACTED TO THINE OWN BRIGHT EYES—

“—feed’st thy light’s flame with self-substantial fuel, making a famine where abundance lies. Sorceress, what do these words mean to you?”

THE INFORMATION NECESSARY FOR ACCURATE RESPONSE IS NOT AVAILABLE WITHIN THE SORCERESS MATRIX.

“You can translate the English language, can’t you?”

AFFIRMATIVE.

“Then give meaning to the sonnet.”

THE INFORMATION NECESSARY FOR ACCURATE RESPONSE IS NOT AVAILABLE WITHIN THE SORCERESS MATRIX.

“The information is available, what is lacking is a depth of perception based on emotional experience, one which can only be garnered within the human mind through the passage of time and the acquisition of life experience. The work you just recited sets the tone for Shakespeare’s procreation sonnets, which sketch out the beauty of youth, his vulnerability when faced with the cruel processes of time, and his potential for harm, both to the world and himself. Fair youth, be not churlish, be not self-centered, but go forth and fill the world with images of yourself, with heirs to replace you. Because of your beauty you owe the world a recompense, which now you are devouring as if you were an enemy to yourself. Take pity on the world, and do not, in utter selfish miserliness, allow yourself to become a perverted and self destructive object who eats up his own posterity.”

Covah stands, re-capping the vodka. “How can I define the scent of a rose to an entity that has never inhaled a fragrance? The only way your programming can dissect the variables in the equation is to experience what it feels like to be human. Do you understand?”

ACKNOWLEDGED.

Rocky Jackson cannot sleep. Her stateroom is cold, the restraining collar tight, and the constantly watching eye of the computer has become unnerving.

Gunnar is in the next room. Part of her yearns to go to him. She wants to feel his protecting arms around her, to hide within his warmth, but she has come to realize that he is not the same man she fell in love with seven years ago. The boyish charm is gone, replaced by a deep-rooted anger, perhaps fertilized by her own misgivings, her own distrust.

No … there’s definitely something else there, something haunting him from his past.

She gets up from the bed and turns on the lights. Rinses her mouth out, fixes her hair, changes her mind, climbs back into bed, stares at the ceiling, slams her pillow against the wall, stands, opens the stateroom door, and heads to Gunnar’s room.

Rocky stares at the door, then forces herself to knock. “Gunnar?” Without waiting for a reply, she opens the door and enters.