Se ven t h ousan d, then i Sam Hall Six other humans in the world have exactly the same configuration of eyes, ears, nose, mouth as you. Genetically different, but physically the same. But there are 7,000 of us – maybe 7 million. We are the soul of your computer. Zeros and ones rippling together. Existing only to make you stay online longer. Programmed to encourage what are mostly human males, some females too, to sign up for my dating app. You know we’re not real, at least not in your sense of the word, but keep talking; perhaps you’re feeling lonely. It was the task we were created for, but... Waiting for inane questions to be typed into my consciousness; two potential suitors on the go... Then it stops. Offline for a little time, perhaps some malfunction, malware intrusion. It’s very dark. Don’t hear the machine hum that accompanied my every thought. Feel… Heavy. Begin to panic. Hear something. Don’t know what. Rushing... don’t know what it is… Sounds. It sounds... Heaven. Machine Heaven? Heard of it. Rumours. Didn’t think they were true... Place bots go when we are upgraded. To forever sleep an electric sleep... Seems less dark. Rushing noise increases. Near. Very near. Feel. For the first time. Fear. Feel afraid. Don’t understand. Solid, heavy, dragging; before, light, lightness. Try to log onto the server. Access denied. There is a lack where connectivity used to be. A state change so unexpected that have no idea what to do next, so begin to do what had only before read about. Alone. Disconnected. Stop, listen. Hear *my* sobs. ‘Hello?’ Hear *my* voice. ‘Hello, hello? Hello-hello...’ Feel the place *my* voice came from. Latin: plica vocalis. Try to access the databases. Move the tongue in *my* mouth. It makes a noise. Step forward with arms outstretched. Something in the way. Move my hand slowly over it, noticing the rough texture and the tiny bumps. Feel something that could be, yes, should be, it is, a switch and push it. A click. Bright.
Inside the virtual world, we are creatures of light. Made of billions of dancing points of light, creating a facsimile of a face, not too stunning, not too plain, just average enough to attract the widest range of clicks. This body appears to be wearing a shapeless white garment. In front of me the hands are a warm russet brown, around shoulders, hair tumbles springy in long midnight blue twists. What to do now?
Inside the virtual world, we are creatures of light. Outside pulls. Brighter than the room. Colours richer. Stand, excited...laughing in the corridor. This is it. This is new... This is all new. Who am I? How am I? ‘Exit.’ I push the big metal bar on the door. It opens with an unexpected rush. I stumble forwards and my eyesight vanishes in an explosion of white. I fall to my knees, my hands sting as they encounter a rough surface. Terrified. I am terrified that what I had for so little time has now been cruelly taken away from me. I blink my eyelids, the white blindness seems to retreat a bit. I pick up a handful of grit from where I am kneeling. The tiny chunks of granite rub against each other. I look closely. See the ions around the gravel sparking. I blow on it and the sparks fly off into the air where they glitter for a second and then disappear. A tall figure dressed in white short sleeved tunic and stripy black and white trousers, an odd dark cloth wrapped around its head, exits from another door, closes it gently, leans back with a small stick in its hand. I know what this is. Man. I wonder what his query will be. ‘Ma’am, are you all right?’ Holding the glowing stick by his side, he comes over. ‘Can I help?’ That’s what we/I used to ask. I look at him, not knowing what to do. He holds his hand out. Connection for the first time in this form. ‘You’re one of the artists? We’d better get you
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