Recreating the Mind

[TheMacroprosopus]

So, I figure I'll leave EQ fan fiction stories to those who can do them justice.

Instead, I get bizarre ideas (DragonMan, the Threshold), and write 'em down. This one, I really have no idea where it came from. I guess it's got a bit of The Sixth Day to it, but that's about it. Hm...maybe some visuals from I, Robot. Yeah. Anyway, my dad shot one of the ideas (which I haven't gotten to yet) down, saying that it's impossible. Wait...maybe I've posted it here...I don't remember, and I couldn't find it. Nope...Just checked. Alright, rambling aside, he said that it would be impossible to copy the contents of the human brain onto a computer. I disagree, and set this story in the future, because anything's possible in the future.
Besides, at the rate technology is advancing, copying the brain WILL be possible. Just like the idea you'll see as soon as I post the part of the story I've got finished so far. I'm not too far into it, but I figured I'd post it, because I have nothing to do at my job. Yeah. So, here goes. (new post to make sure there's enough space).

[TheMacroprosopus]

Portion 1

The morning sun was surprisingly bright and warm on the day that Doctor William Stevens received the good news. He was standing at one of his office’s twenty-foot tall floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the morning progress. Reaching to his left, he pressed a button on a waist height, pillar mounted control panel, tinting the windows of the office just enough to be able to comfortably see the clear sky.
The office was only a few years old, built in the corner of the one hundred-seventeenth floor of PortCorp’s multibillion-dollar new structure. The office was primarily glass: Both outer walls were floor-to-ceiling “smart” windows, separated by slightly sloping white pillars for structural integrity; Stevens’ desk was glass-topped; historically significant statues had been recreated in glass, standing in each corner of the room. Two of the statues, opposite each other, were partially covered in front by fake plants.
To the left of the main double doors, there was a “library”: several shelves, housing hundreds of books. To the right of the doors, there was a flight of stairs (flanked by panes of glass under the handrails), leading to a second floor, half the size of the main one.
The second floor continued the library of the first, with the bookshelves directly above those on the lower floor. In the center of the second floor was a large oak table, with a black leather couch on the wall side of it, and matching chairs on all other sides. A four-sided television was housed inside the base of the table, available when desired. A closet was further along the wall, used often for extra suits, or for when Stevens felt the need to stay the night for work.
Although the office had been in Stevens’ possession since the day it was completed (conceived, in fact), he was still awestricken every time he entered it.

As the sun fully cleared a building in the distance, an image Stevens had come to understand as 10 a.m., his secretary came quietly into the room. “Doctor?”
Stevens turned, with a bright smile, “Yes, Susan?”
Susan was a tall, pretty woman, in her mid twenties, with long, dark brown hair and crisp blue eyes. Her grey skirt and jacket suited her. “Two things. First, your new sound system arrived this morning. The delivery men want to know where you want it.”
“Ah, excellent. Have them put the main speakers against the solid walls, two per wall. That way, the sound will be directed away from the other offices and your desk. I’ll put the ceiling units up myself, later. The other thing?”
“Doctor Robson wants you to call him. Something about your joint project. I can forward the message to your personal phone, if you’d like?” There was a sense of informality between Stevens and Susan. She had been working for him for two years, and he had long ago told her to be casual with him.
“Um…No, thanks. I like surprises. I’ll call him when I finish with the sound system. I also like the feeling of anticipation. Is that all?” Stevens smiled as he walked over to a closet. From the large, walk-in space he removed a round platform that had a railing around one half.
“That’s about it, yeah,” Susan checked her notepad and nodded. “Would you like me to send the delivery men in?”
“Please, yes. Thank you, Susan.” Stevens began looking at the ceiling tiles, debating where the ceiling units should go.
Moments later, the double doors of the office entrance hissed open and two men in blue jumpsuits walked in, controlling hovering skids with large boxes stacked on top. After a quick explanation from Stevens, the men unpacked the large speakers and placed two against each of the solid walls. When all was done to Stevens’ satisfaction, he tipped them and showed them to the door.
Turning to the four leftover boxes, Stevens took a small utility knife from a drawer in his desk and began to open them. He removed one unit from its box, checked to make sure that it was fully intact, that the wireless pick-up was flawless, and stepped onto the platform he had taken from the closet.


As Stevens sat at his desk, listening to his phone ringing in his ear, waiting for someone to pick up the other end, he cued up a video image on his screen. The pre-recorded video was that of several technicians bustling about, working on a large machine. Stevens smiled, proud of how far the project had come.
Finally, a woman answered the phone, “Dr. Robson’s office, Donna speaking. How may I help you?”
“Donna, my dear! How are you?” It had been a while since Stevens had spoken to the middle-aged woman, and he was eager to hear of her life to date.
“Ah, you know how it is, Bill. I’m either at the desk, or sleeping. Sometimes both, haha. But, the long hours mean I can have more fun when I retire.” The hours must be long; her voice seemed very tired. Surprising for a woman who was once very energetic.
“Exactly. Plan on retiring early?”
“I had thought about it. If I do, it’ll only be five years early, at most.” There was a pause, and then Donna picked up her pace a little. “Damn, I’ve got another call. What can I do for ya?”
“I just wanted to talk to Craig. He left a message, but I’d rather hear the news straight from him.”
”Okay, I’ll put you through. Talk to you soon, Bill. Bye-bye.” There was a click, and then an intermittent beeping.
No wonder it took so long to get through, Stevens chuckled. She talks a lot. She’d go on for hours if you let her.
Suddenly, Craig Robson’s voice was in Stevens’ ear, “Bill?”
“Hey, Craig. What’s up?”
“Not much at all, bud. How about you?”
“Well, very little, actually. Got my new sound system today. I haven’t had a chance to test it yet. Just finished putting the ceiling units in. Anyway, Susan said you left a message, but I didn’t listen to it. I want to hear it from you.”
“Alright…Let me see…Yeah, I’m free for the next couple of hours. Want to go get some breakfast? I’ll buy.”
Stevens checked his own schedule, and made sure he had time. “Works for me. I’ll meet you at the café in five.”
“Okay, pal. See you there.” The two hung up and Stevens set about shutting down his laptop.
Exiting his office, Stevens stopped at Susan’s desk and waited until she looked up. “Sir?”
“I’m just going down for something to eat with Craig. I’ll be back in a little while.”
“Okay, I’ll hold your calls.”
“Thanks. I shall return. Oh…You want anything for when I come back?”
”No, thanks, sir. I’ve got the coffee machine around the corner if I get thirsty.” Susan smiled, and pointed vaguely in the direction of the machine.
”Alright. No falling asleep, now!”
“Haha, I won’t sir. Don’t worry. Enjoy your breakfast.” Return Susan’s smile, Stevens walked out of the room and entered a waiting elevator.
A female voice came through, asking, “What floor, please?”
Stevens spoke clearly, and directly at the source of the question. “Fifteen.”
“Thank you.” The elevator began its rapid descent, and Stevens watched the ground approach him through the outside window.


The café was busy; Stevens knew it would be. “Always on a Monday”, he muttered, as he stepped out of the elevator. Looking around, he spotted his friend almost immediately. As Stevens drew closer to the table, he saw that breakfast had already been ordered. Everything was just how he liked it; scrambled eggs, back bacon, homefries, white toast. A quick glance as he sat down told him that his coffee had only recently been set down. Good, he thought. He hasn’t been waiting long. “How’s it going, Craig?” Stevens asked, after a few forkfuls of eggs.
Robson laughed. “You asked me that before. But, since we never got into detail… Not bad at all, Will. Actually, it goes quite well. Jen told me last night that she’s pregnant. I still don’t think I’m ready for it all, though. Yeah, I’m 33, but there’s so much ‘fun’ stuff that I don’t want to give up yet. Oh well. Guess I gotta learn to change at some point. What about you? Got anyone special in your life? Susan?” Robson was almost vibrating with joy and nervousness. It was also apparent that he hadn’t slept after he got the news that he was going to be a father.
Stevens laughed a little at his friend’s excitement before responding. “First, congratulations! A kid’s a big investment, though. Good luck. Second, nah, no one special yet. Susan is an option, but I’m afraid it’d be a bit awkward.”
“True.” The two sat in silence for the duration of the meal.
After a third refill of coffee, Stevens broke the silence. “Hey, thanks for breakfast, man. But, since you’re the one with the upcoming kid, shouldn’t I be buying the meal? Or was that not the only good news?”
“Haha, well done. You’re buying lunch. I got breakfast because your baby’s on the way. The platform was just finished at 12:07 this morning.” Robson grinned and took a sip of his coffee.
Stevens sat silently for a moment, staring at the half-empty sugar bowl on the table. Finally, he spoke. “Good use of suspense. Well, I vote we go check it out.”
“Alright. Let’s go.” Robson, having seen the waiter approaching out of the corner of his eye, threw several bills on the table and continued, “Race you to the elevator?”

[TheMacroprosopus]

Portion 2


The elevator stopped roughly twelve floors below ground. The doors opened to a massive, cavernous room, bustling with jumpsuited employees. Thick cables and pipes ran from large steel boxes to a massive structure in the center of the room. Suspended floors scaled the seventy-foot walls, each with branches to a trunk like pipe coming from the middle of the structure. Robson let Stevens step out of the elevator first, smiling at his halt three steps from the door. Even though he had designed the machine before him, Stevens could not help but be awed by it. Stopping beside Stevens momentarily, placing a hand on his shoulder, Robson said “Your baby, my friend. Congratulations.” Robson continued on to a panel of monitors. Stevens soon followed, his eyes never leaving the machine. “Alright,” Robson turned to a technician. “What’s happened since it was finished?”
The technician, a thirty-year-old man with thick glasses, looked up from his monitor. “We’ve been running tests to make sure everything’s connected. Otherwise, nothing. Everyone’s been waiting for Dr. Stevens.”
Stevens turned from the monstrous machine. “Let’s get it started. Who’s going where first?”
“Well, it all seems to be working perfectly, so it’s your call, Doctor. We can send one of the techs through, or, it being your design, you can go.”
Stevens thought for a moment before saying, “Well, if I don’t have faith in it, no one can. I’ll go.”
“Alright. Jane, over there,” the technician pointed to a large woman behind him, “will get you a costume ready. First, what time are you wanting?” The technician brought up a window with inputs for hours, minutes, seconds, days, months, and years.
“I don’t know…Surprise me. Find me Champlain’s 1634 trip to Canada. I don’t know the time; you’ll have to look. Put me on the beach so I can watch them land. Actually, put me…No, we can’t be sure about where the trees are… Yeah, the beach will do. Give me some time to hide, though.” Stevens went to discuss costume arrangements with Jane, leaving the technician to search for an appropriate drop time. A few moments of preparation and Robson almost couldn’t recognize his own friend. “Damn, man. That looks authentic!”
“Yep. Jane knows what she’s doing.” Turning to the technician, Stevens asked, “All set?”
“Yes, sir,” the technician nodded. “But, you’re going to need…” He quickly searched the top of the desk, finally picking up what he was looking for. “…This.” He handed Stevens a small, silver device, about the size of a credit card.
“I don’t remember this,” Stevens turned the device over in his hands.
“One of the guys came up with a more compact, yet cost effective tracking device. Keep that on you, and we’ll always be able to bring you back.”
“Ah. Excellent. I’d hate to get stuck anywhere. I’d never get back.” Smiling nervously, Stevens patted Robson on the shoulder and headed towards the small room that would take him o the landing of Champlain’s ship. He stopped at the door and turned to look at the technician. “You know, I never got your name.”
The technician smiled. “Jim, sir.”
“Well, ‘Jim, sir’, I’ll either see you when I return, or my ghost shall hunt you down and haunt your entire family. Haha. See you guys in a bit.” Stevens opened the door and stepped inside the chamber. Seated comfortably, he pressed a button for an intercom, and said, “Hit it.” He felt a slight tug at his stomach, but put it of as being a side effect of the morning’s coffee. Then another tug came, and he was suddenly on a beach. In the distance he could see a large wooden sailing ship coasting towards him. He stood up and ran for the thick forest behind him.
Hiding in amongst the trees and bushes, looking exactly like one of the natives of the tribe nearby, Stevens watched Champlain and his men de-board the ship. He stayed for some time, watching the various greetings.
Finally, he felt that it was time to go. Finding the tracker in his pocket, he chuckled and pressed the button labeled “Beam me up, Jimmy!” Another tug at his stomach and he was back in the chamber. Stepping down, onto the main platform, Stevens looked at himself to make sure he had returned in one piece.
“Jesus… It worked,” came Robson’s whispered voice.
Stevens looked at his friend, spun to look at the hulking mass of steel plating and pipes, and turned back. “Yes!!” he shouted, embracing Robson. The entire room, which had gone silent the moment the chamber door re-opened, erupted into thunderous applause. “Tomorrow morning, we tell the world.”
Robson laughed, “Yeah. But, now, you buy lunch.”


“Ladies and gentlemen, Doctor William Stevens!” the man at the podium exclaimed. He stepped aside and Stevens moved to the microphone.
“Thank you,” he said, through the cheers and applause. “For the past four years, PortCorp has been working on a machine of my design. From there, I can’t really take any credit. Aside from checking in on progress, and testing the finalized system, I didn’t do much. All praise should go to the build crew. Without them, I’m just a guy with an idea.
“Hmm…It’s nine-thirty-two now. We’ll aim for…” Stevens paused, looking at the shed-like structure to his left. The door opened, and the crowd watched in shock as a second Stevens walked out. “Hello, me,” Stevens continued. The other man waved, and went back into the machine. “What you all just witness I proof that time travel is possible. By expanding on PortCorp’s already established teleportation hardware and software, we were able to send people – me alone, thus far – back in time. Now, to make what just happened happen, I’ll be right back.” Stevens walked over to the structure and stepped inside. Five seconds later, he was back. The crowd, having been silent since the appearance of a second Dr. Stevens, once again burst into cheers and applause. Stevens returned to the podium and waited for a relative quiet.
“Now, this is only the first build of the system. Over the next while, most likely a few years, we will be working on a much smaller version. At the moment, the hardware being used has a base about the size of this room quadrupled, and a height of ten storeys. PortCorp is fully backing the rebuilding, as the grants from the government went towards the first build.” Turning to Robson, he asked, “Dr. Robson, do you have anything to add?” Robson shook his head, and Stevens addressed the audience again “Any questions?”

After a three-hour question-and-answer period (and several more demonstrations), Stevens retired to his office. He had adjusted the windows so that the top halves were tinted, making it comfortable to look outside. He turned to his desk and pressed a key. An animation of a jukebox popped up on his monitor, appearing to load a disc for playback. Not a second later, the room echoed with sweet music, as though a live orchestra were in the center of the floor. For a while, the serene piece played on. Eventually, it trailed off, turning haunting, and sometimes dark. Wanting to test his new sound system in a different way, Stevens stopped the orchestral recording and walked to his office door. He opened it, and seeing that the waiting room was void of visitors, spoke to Susan. “There’s going to be a lot of noise for the next, say, nine minutes. Hold my calls until everything’s quiet, and if anyone comes in, could you tell them that I apologize for the racket?”
“Certainly, sir.” Susan smiled. She knew what was coming. Stevens had done this before. It was the reason for the new speakers anyway. He felt that if a sound system could play his favourite song (“The Call of Ktulu”, by Metallica) at almost full volume, it was worthy. The last set of speakers couldn’t handle the task; they still functioned after the song, but there was a constant hiss, and a very obvious crackle from time to time.
“Thanks, Susan.” Stevens nodded and closed the door. A quick search of his computer found the file, and it was soon blasting loud and clear. At the end, Stevens grinned, and said simply, “Perfect.” A moment later, Susan knocked on the door and entered. Stevens turned and, still grinning, asked, “What did you think?”
“It sounded excellent, sir. I was afraid the windows were going to shatter.”
Stevens laughed. “What’s up?”
“The secretary for the board of directors just called. They’d like to see you upstairs.”
“Okay. When?”
“Um… Right now, actually.” Susan looked down at her notes to confirm. Stevens smiled affectionately as she blew some stray hair from her face.
“Alright, I’ll go see what they want. I’ll be back…soon, I guess.”

“What floor, please?” prompted the elevator.
Stevens thought for a moment. Not many people got to see the board of directors’ floor. “Uh...One-thirty-nine.”
“Name and voice confirmation, please.”
Such a kind security system, Stevens thought. “Doctor William Stevens.”
“Thank you.” The elevator began ascending, taking three seconds to reach floor 139. The doors opened into a long, marble corridor, with plants and stone statues lining the walls. A solitary desk was positioned roughly halfway down the hall, and Stevens approached it slowly.
“May I help you?” the woman at the desk asked.
“I’m Dr. Stevens. I was told that the board would like to see me?”
The woman checked the onscreen schedule before he. “Ah, yes. Follow me, please.” She stood up and led Stevens to the end of the hall. She pulled open a large wooden door and motioned for Stevens to enter.


And that's all I have typed thus far. I write it first.

[JenGe]

Hey, that's really very good. Why have you been hiding your talent??

[TheMacroprosopus]

Heh, I'm not sure...I thought I'd posted the other part I'd written, but...I'm gonna have to totally rewrite that part now...So, it's good that I didn't post it. And, since I have nothing to do at work today, more of this should be along soon...

[Witcher Wolf]

Stupon, this is pretty badass, if you don't continue it...well...you know, limbs, flying body part and all that.

Just kidding, nice one

[TheMacroprosopus]

Hahaha, you don't gotta be kidding with that. If I don't continue it, I'll be making limbs fly. Maybe mine...most likely my brother's...

Anyway, I will be continuing it. Apparently, I do have an actual purpose at my job (took 'em a week and half to show me that), so it may come slower than I want...

[Sontin-JudasFm]

I meant to post a reply earlier, but got caught up in things. So...*clears throat*

This is some amazing writing Stupon! And I have to agree; in the future I think it'll be more than possible to copy the brain's contents onto a computer...it's been proved they can map thoughts as they happen, so I guess copying them's just one step further

Anyway, yeah; so far this is great; I love it! ;D Hoping to see more soon...

(BTW, did you hear back from that contest you sent Threshold to? Just curious...

[mawa]

Excellent stuff there, Stupon. Extremely well written and with a very interesting premise. I hope to see more soon.

Keep up the good work!

[TheMacroprosopus]

Heh, thanks y'all.

I've come to the realization that it's gonna be a challenge to have a central conflict...haven't gotten that far yet. It'll happen.

And, not yet, Judas...They say the winners will be posted by June 20th... However, not to blow my own horn (I hate doing it, really), but based off previous winners, I'm starting to think I have a chance. (For example...callmagazine.com/competition/2004williams.html <- It's great...but...)

[Sontin-JudasFm]

Yeah...I get what you mean I'll still keep my fingers crossed for ya though

[TheMacroprosopus]

Alrighty....A bit more...Not as much as the first two, but I've gotten to the mind copying. I don't think I'm too happy with a bit of the end, but, I don't mind it.


The office that her hand gestured to was rather large. A long, dark oak table, emblazoned with the company’s patented “PC” logo, sat squarely centered on the floor. Around it were twenty high-backed leather chairs. The walls were adorned with many antique paintings. The far wall was a huge mural, which appeared to depict a battle between heaven and hell. In the middle of this picture was a particularly muscular angel, with a sword, who Stevens thought must be Michael, the warrior angel.
As the door closed, eleven men turned to see who had entered. An old man (with white hair where his hairline wasn’t receding), who was sitting with his back to the mural, spoke first. “Dr. Stevens, welcome. Please, have a seat.” He gestured towards an empty chair. Stevens promptly sat down. “We were just discussing the presentation you gave the press today.”
“Yes, sir?” Stevens was afraid that the board had reassessed the project as a joke and a waste of time. Please, don’t cut the funding! He wanted to scream that thought, but managed to stay silent.
“We want you to take as long as you need. Judging by the reaction of the press, the public is going to love the prospect of proven time travel. How are you doing for stocks in the company?”
Stevens was ecstatic that the project could continue, but the reference to stocks confused him. “I’m sorry?”
“You don’t know what stocks are?” The old man smirked. A few of the others chuckled.
“Heh, I know what stocks are, sir. But I don’t think I understand the question.”
Just before the old man, who Stevens suddenly realized was Mr. Frank Azani, the owner of PortCorp, could answer, Dr. Robson was ushered into the room. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can wait outside?”
“No, no, Dr. Robson,” Mr. Azani waved a hand to dismiss the idea. “We were going to make the same proposal to you.” Robson took the chair beside Stevens, and Mr. Azani continued, “With the success of the initial project, we believe that profits, and stock value, are going to soar. So, the board would like to offer the pair of you five percent of the company stocks, each. No strings attached, and on top of what you earn salary-wise and from the profits. We, to be honest, didn’t expect you to progress the project as far as you have, and would like to reward you, while encouraging further advancements.”
Stevens and Robson looked at each other. They were both equally stunned, and were hoping the other would know what to say. Simultaneously, they looked at the old man and said in unison “We’ll take it!”
“It’s settled then. Cindy, the woman you met in the hall, will send the paperwork to your offices tomorrow. In the mean time, would you gentlemen like some lunch and a drink? Must have been a pretty intense couple of days.” The two doctors accepted the offer, and the group spent a couple of hours talking candidly and joking around.


“So, we’ve got pretty much all the money we could ever want. The project is complete on a base level. Where, exactly, do you see this all going, Bill?” Robson was sitting on the leather couch of Stevens’ office, as Stevens searched the upper floor bookshelf. After two hours of brandy, Robson seemed surprisingly sober.
“I don’t know. Ah! Here it is. There’s something in here that I want you to see.” Stevens handed Robson a large book that was at least forty years old. “After the success of human genome mapping came attempts at reading brain patterns to form coherent images and files of thought on a computer. Few successes were documented, but those that were recorded were quite effective.”
“Okay…And?”
“Why don’t we take that all a few steps further?” Stevens began pacing as he continued, “We could get massive storage banks, and record the entire contents of peoples’ minds. The thoughts of all could live on forever. Studies could be done to fully understand the human psyche. Beyond that, with the information we’d gather, we could create a fully intelligent and aware machine.”
“You want to do this separately? You know the board expects us to continue the time travel research, right?” Robson raised an eyebrow and put the open book on the table.
“I never said separately. I mean, what if we could go back, and copy the minds of people like Einstein, or Da Vinci…Bill Gates, Steven Hawking. Imagine what it would be like to combine the minds of people like that. The possibilities would be endless.” Stevens’ eyes were wide, and he sat on the chair facing Robson.
“That is actually quite ingenious, my friend. I’m impressed. I thought the whole time travel idea was amazing, but far fetched. But you pulled it off. So, I’m behind you all the way with this one.” Robson nodded, and thought for a moment. “About the time travel…Have you given any thought to trying out the future? It’s possible, isn’t it?”
“Oh, it’s possible, yes, but there are a couple of reasons I don’t want to try it. Firstly, I fear going into the past to begin with; there’s so much I could change. I don’t know what would happen if I went into the future. Secondly, I’d rather not know what’s going to happen. I can’t get away from knowing what has happened, but, I want to be surprised with what is going to happen. I might, at some point, entertain the idea, but for now, we’ll stick to the past.”
Robson nodded. “Alright, where do you want to start with all of this?”
“Well, I would like to start from the ground up with the mind storage, but there’s so much we could learn from the past attempts. So, I think we should begin with technology that’s tested and true. Build on it, perfect it. Hardware and software, at the same time. That should get it all done faster, and it should also all fit together better, because it will all be done basically side by side.”
For the next several hours, until Robson had to get home to his wife, the two men discussed the idea in further detail, planning out preliminary actions. Stevens had Susan send a message to the board’s secretary, asking if the board would approve the idea. Shortly after the message was sent, Stevens’ phone rang, and a board member told him that the board wanted to personally call him to offer their full support of the new project direction. Stevens and Robson sighed in relief and went home.

For the next three months, production plans were explained to a large team of PortCorp employees, and all those involved were very enthusiastic about the new project. Stevens and Robson had suggested a fabrication time of five years. They were hopeful, however, because of the fair number of scientists and researchers that they were able to recruit.
“Now, PortCorp is willing to back almost anything you guys need. Granted, food is still your problem, but, I’m sure there will be some surprise coffee deliveries, like the one today, and the like from time to time. But, anything else that you guys need, it’s yours.” Stevens was addressing the large group standing below him on the floor of the original time traveling structure. “I’m proud to have all of you working with us on this, and I look forward to what we will be building together.” Reaching for the cup of coffee that had been poured for him, Stevens raised it and finished with “To the future.”

[mawa]

Stupon, this is excellent! The idea is really interesting. I'll be glad to see in which direction it'll evolve and I'll be eagerly awaiting for more of your work. Keep it up!

[Libby]

OK...so I'm heaping even more apologies for not posting a reply sooner..pressure of work *wipes forehead*

This is great. I really think you have grown and matured in your writing. Maybe it's a bit of Wolf's influence...the 'go for it and to hell with what people think'.

It's certainly a confident piece...in-your-face and thought provoking. I love it!

[Witcher Wolf]

Heh, Libby. I still get upset by morons like my Cousin and Octopussy Overlards, oops. But I am starting to think, ah fuck it. Why should I get upset -- fuck them, they can't earn 1,000 quid for writing a strategy guide for a game -- they're just jealous low-life no-lifers who'll only get a woman if they buy a porno mag.

Stupon: badass stuff mate, you keep goin!

[Sontin-JudasFm]

Another amazing part, Stupon; I love the ideas behind this story (such as I've seen ) Hoping to see more soon...

[TheMacroprosopus]

Thanks, guys! I've begun to actually feel pride in things that I do (I don't know why it happened, but it started with a picture I did recently ->"Hello" {Evanescence}), and your comments are kinda helping. So, thanks again!

And, I've got four days of work to myself, with about...a day's worth of stuff, so, I should be doing a lot more writing...

[Witcher Wolf]

Stupon: Always feel pride in what you do mate, everything you do has meaning and importance, don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

[TheMacroprosopus]

Three fast years later, after several prototypes, the team was ready to show the board of directors what they had accomplished. The board was brought to a separate building that was owned by the company, where the project was being completed. Stevens and Robson stood in front of a large box, with the majority of the team standing behind it. “Members of the board, welcome.” Stevens smiled as he shook each member’s hand. “We’d all like to thank you for coming down. I think you’ll find that all the money you’ve provided us with has gone to excellent use. We’re all very proud of what we’ve accomplished, and we hope you will be, as well.” Stevens looked behind him at the grinning, nervous faces of his crew. “So, let’s get started, shall we?” Stevens motioned for the board members to sit down in a bleacher-style seating area.
Several members of the group stepped forward to help Stevens and Robson remove the panels that made up the box in the centre of the room. Seconds later, a large machine was visible from between the shoulders of the workers. As they stepped aside, the board members could fully see the finished product. A large variable stand held the sleek metal device in place, so that a protruding portion was at an approximate eye level. At the end of the protrusion was what appeared to be a pair of view finders. A keyboard was attached to the side, along with a flat-screen monitor, displaying the readouts of the view finders.
Robson, grinning widely, turned from the machine to face the board members. “What you see here is a fully functional fifth version of our brain recording project. We’ve done more with this than we had originally even dreamed of, and in less time than was planned. We really cannot thank you enough for all of your support.” Walking to the view finders, Robson continued, “This machine can record the contents of a human brain onto a large hard drive, or, if necessary a group of large hard drives. What’s the point? Well, coupled with the work we’ve done on time travel, it’s possible that we can take all the information from the geniuses of the past, and put it to use today. Everything they thought of, but never explored. The possibilities are, essentially, endless.” The various directors seated before him began talking quietly to each other. After a few moments, Robson spoke again. “Who wants to go first?”
Following a series of puzzled looks, Stevens elaborated. “We were going to demonstrate how it all works with a member of the build crew, but we thought that it could be viewed as staged. A volunteer is much more random, and would show that we aren’t just making this up.”
Mr. Azani stood and walked up to the machine. “I’ll go.”
“Alright, sir,” Stevens nodded. “If you’ll just look into the octal ports, we can get started.” Turning to a technician, Stevens gave the signal to turn the machine on. The screen lit up and the technician entered a login code. Mr. Azani focused on a small red dot at the back of the port, and the screen displayed the information that would be found on his driver’s license. “Let’s make that bigger, shall we?” Stevens pulled a remote from his pocket and pressed a button. The contents of the screen were projected onto the white wall behind him.
One of the board members stood and asked, “What about private thoughts? Surely everyone has things that they don’t want to let out?”
A small man in a lab coat and glasses was first to respond. “Yes…Part of the programming included in the machine deals specifically with that. That was my job. We thought about it a quarter of the way through, and I set about making sure those thoughts stay private. So, before the information is displayed and saved, it is processed to determine its contents and importance. However, certain things are allowed through, because they may, in fact, prove important legally.”
“I see,” the board member nodded. “Excellent idea.”
Stevens placed a hand on Mr. Azani’s shoulder and said “Thank you, sir, you can stop now.” Azani returned to his seat and Stevens walked over to the technician at the keyboard. After a few orders, the technician rapidly typed out a series of instructions, and the display changed to how much information was stored. “Well, Mr. Azani appears to have seven hundred gigabytes of information that the machine deems important. Now, the rest may be important to Mr. Azani, but not to anyone else.” The entire room laughed for a moment, including Mr. Azani himself. “We estimate that, in some cases, we could have upwards of two thousand gigabytes of information from one brain. So, we’ll need a large amount of storage. At the moment, we have about three hundred hard drives, each capable of storing a thousand gigabytes. Eventually we may need more. However, we’ll get to that later. For now, we’d like to discuss with you our plan as to what we’re going to do with this machine combined with the time travel device.”
“Yes,” Robson stepped forward. “As I said, we can, with this machine, copy the mind of just about anyone. Einstein, for example. But, how are we going to do that when we’re here, and he’s long since passed? Well, we send someone back in time to get the target, and bring them back here. Then we scan their brain, and return them to their time.”
Before Robson could continue, one of the board members piped up. “You’re just going to go back, and bring someone from the past to our time? Won’t that be a bit shocking?”
“Haha, I was about to get to that, sir. What will happen is we will bring them to a room that is exactly like one they would expect in their era. So, they won’t be able to tell the difference. They’ll simply be walking into a new room. We’ve been working to get rid of the tugging sensation that Dr. Stevens has reported as the transfer through time begins, but we haven’t been able to completely eradicate it. It’s small enough to be considered hunger pangs now.”
“When do you plan to have an initial test?” another board member asked.
“Well, we’ve got to finish up with the new version of the time travel system, and then figure out what we want to do first. After that, we’ll build a room suitable to the time period, and then we’ll go back. Is there anyone that you would like us to get first?”
The directors turned to each other and discussed ideas as to who should be the first historic person to be copied. “Malcolm Little,” came the answer.
“Malcolm X? Really?” Stevens was curious as to why the directors would choose Malcolm X over someone such as Benjamin Franklin. Malcolm X never invented anything, he thought.
“Yes. Not many know what he had planned for the future, and we also believe he won’t be as challenging as some of the other names we had come up with.” Mr. Azani smiled. “And, to answer your hopes that you expressed earlier, yes, we are very proud of your achievements. We could not have asked for a better team. Thank you all.”
Stevens stood silently for a moment, letting Azani’s words sink into the rest of the team. “No, thank you, sir. With the generous funding of PortCorp, we would never have the chance to create all of this. So, I guess that concludes today’s demonstration. When everything is prepared, you are all welcome to come down and watch the first practical test. Thank you for coming, once again.” Stevens smiled, and shook each board member’s hand again as they all walked out of the building.

The room was set. Everything had been designed and built to appear as though it were right out of 1965. Perfectly crafted furniture was scattered around the room, with a large mirror hanging on the far wall. Behind the mirror was the brain copying device, which the team had come to call “MOD”, for Mind on Disk.
During the several months that it took to set up the room and make sure everything was right, Stevens had been learning everything possible about the Muslim faith, and what Malcolm X stood for. “Remember, Bill,” Robson stood before Stevens, who was sitting at a desk, going over last minute notes. “You cannot say anything about what’s going to happen to him. Nor can you make him late. We’ve managed to find you a ten minute time frame that he wasn’t doing anything. So, you’re there, you get him in the room, we copy his brain, you get him back. That’s it. Alright?”
“I’ve got it. Don’t worry. And I won’t screw up if he asks me about my faith, either. I’ve got it all down. Let’s get started.” Stevens closed the binder in front of him and stood up.
“You’re sure? We can send someone else.”
“I’m sure.”
“Alright. You’ve got the whole speech about the mirror memorized?”
“Yep.” The two men walked from the makeshift office that had been built on the floor of the time travel room over to the travel chamber itself. “Let’s see how this goes.” Stevens smiled and stepped inside.
As had become customary, the team members in the room fell silent, and Robson nodded the order to send Stevens back in time.
Stevens opened his eyes to a shaded alley way. The drop had been made just a couple of hundred feet from Malcolm X’s home. Stepping onto the street, Stevens gasped in shock at the state in which the people of the neighbourhood were living; how they were treated in broad daylight. Inwardly, he was proud of how far society had come to give him the life he was living. There was no such thing as segregation anymore. It had been killed by a swiftly imposed law early in the twenty-first century.
After a sudden surge in gang wars and racial murders, the governments of the world united to end racism and prejudice forever. Several attempts failed, and things worsened before they got better. However, one large bill, long in the various senates, was more than effective. Calling for the citizens of the world to set aside their differences, it suggested one religion, as almost the entire world believed in the same god (everyone just used a different name), and enforced an end to segregation, prejudice, and racism.

[TheMacroprosopus]

The above continued...

Almost overly strict, it used the threat of capital punishment for all violators to keep the public in check. Some crimes that bordered on prejudice and racism still occurred, but if a valid reason could be provided to state otherwise, the case was handled in another appropriate manner.
It shouldn’t have surprised Stevens when four men grabbed him and hauled him to a small diner. He was brought before a group of men, all wearing suits, as though they were planning on attending church. After a long moment of silence, the man in the middle, who Stevens finally recognized as Malcolm X, spoke. “Most often, my friends would have beaten you where you stood. But, we saw that you were unarmed, and appeared harmless. Your blank stare of shock also saved you. Now, sir, please explain what you’re doing here?”
“Actually…Mister…um…” Stevens stammered, as he tried to think of an appropriate name.
“‘X’ will do fine.”
“Mister X, thank you… I was hoping to get your help with something. I’m doing an experiment, and I’m going around to all of the brightest minds of our time for help. I would be most honoured if you would follow me to the room I’m conducting the experiment in.”
“Well, I’ve got a few minutes. Certainly; I’ll help.” Malcolm X stood to follow Stevens. Several other men stood with them.
“It will only take thirty seconds, at most. Er…Do you mind if the others stay behind?” Stevens gestured kindly towards the others.
“Well, I do, but I suppose they can stay here.”
“It doesn’t really matter, but the experiment would go best with complete quiet and concentration.”
“Alright, well, I’ll bring two men. Jim, Christopher? Come with us, please.” The men Malcolm X addressed nodded and followed Stevens and Malcolm out of the diner.
Stevens led the men down the street, eventually stopping before a wooden door. Opening it and peering inside before allowing the others in, Stevens made sure it was the right room. A technician had been sent back the week before to take photographs of this room, to make the transition into the next room, and the future, perfect. Satisfied that the room was correct, Stevens held the door as Malcolm X and his men entered.

[Witcher Wolf]

*claps!*

[TheMacroprosopus]

Somewhat short, but I have nothing to do at work.

Of note: I added a few words to the stuff above. Not on here, but in the story itself. Stevens introduces himself to X.

“I guess I should explain the experiment first. What I’m working on is a perfect, flawless mirror. The experiment is to have people look directly at themselves for about thirty seconds, to see if they can notice any faults at all. My colleagues and I have decided on the ‘best and brightest’ because we find that the more intelligent people are more likely to notice any problems.”
Putting a hand in his pocket, Stevens pressed a button on the keypad used to alert the technicians in the “future”. The press of the button would leave a small mark on history, bringing up a message on the technician’s screen for him to perform the time shift at the exact moment the button was hit. Stevens and the others all experienced a slight pull in their stomachs, but no one commented on it.
“Hm. Interesting. I’d be delighted to help. Gentlemen, as the doctor said, quiet is needed. So, give us a moment, okay? You can stay, just, don’t talk for a moment.” Malcolm said this with a smile, charmingly disarming the others in the room. They all chuckled and then fell silent. “Alright. Here we go.”
The moment he stepped to the mirror, the octal lenses began recording every inch of his brain. Within 35 seconds, the process was complete. Stevens had to indicate to Malcolm that he could look away. “Could you find any flaws, sir?”
Looking at the mirror quickly one more time, Malcolm turned back to Stevens. “Absolutely perfect! I could see nothing wrong with the mirror at all!” Malcolm seemed impressed with the “work” Stevens had done.
“Excellent! Thank you very much, sir!” Stevens exclaimed, as he shook Malcolm’s hand. “I shall take up no more of your time.” Of course you couldn’t find anything wrong with it. We’ve had mirrors perfected for ten years. This is nothing. Stevens could not help the sarcasm running through his head. Outwardly, he smiled.
“I’m glad that I could be of service. Well, we must be getting going now. As sala'amu alaikum.”
“Walaikum as sala'am,” Stevens replied. He led the men to the small transition room and pressed the button in his pocket. The tug happened again, and the two guards exchanged small looks of puzzlement. Stevens opened the outside door, and watched the men walk back to the diner. Stepping back into the small room, he pressed the button a third time, and reopened the door. “Did it work?” he asked, as he stepped out.
“Did it ever. That was well done, Bill.” Robson clapped and led Stevens to the technicians’ desk. “We’ve got a thousand gigs of stuff from him. It’s only a matter of time before the computer extrapolates and makes the report as to what he was going to do in the time after his murder. That is, if he wasn’t murdered.”
“Haha, of course. Alright, well, why don’t we go get something to eat while we wait for the machine to finish up?”
“Sounds good. Where to?” Robson and Stevens began walking towards the exit. They were stopped by a small technician who ran in front of them.
“Why not…Wait. What happened to the mirror?” Stevens had glanced at a mirror, and sensed something was different about it. “It looks different. What the hell company is this?”
“What are you talking about, Bill? The mirror has been like that for a while. It isn’t like we switched it while you were gone.”
“Oh…God. I changed it. He must have told someone. They would go on to make a perfect mirror… Hey! Jim! I need you to look up the patent date for the perfect mirror. It should be ten years ago.”
After a moment, Jim looked up and said, “No, sir. It was made forty years ago.”
“Thank you. This could be a problem, Craig.”
“I don’t know. It’s only a minor change, apparently. Although, I don’t notice it. They’ve been around since before I was born, apparently.”
“I’m telling you, they were only ten years old when I left.”
“Haha, I believe you, man. It doesn’t surprise me, really. I mean, the basic idea of what we’re doing is pretty out there, itself.”
A moment later, the printer buzzed to life. “Ah, there’s the report now. Let’s go check it out.” Stevens was the first of the entire team to reach the printer. He waited until the entire file was done, and then lifted it up to read it. “Perfect. Comprehensive, yet to the point. You guys have really done an amazing job with all of this programming. So, I’ll go take this upstairs, and I’ll be back to tell y’all what Mr. Azani had to say.” Stevens got in a waiting elevator and requested to be taken to the 139th floor.
“Ever notice,” Robson said to the technician beside him, “that, even though PortCorp deals with teleportation platforms, we never use them inside the building?” The group laughed, and slowly returned to what they were all doing.

“Yes, sir. The patent moved thirty years.” Stevens was standing in front of Azani’s desk, explaining the situation to the old man.
“Alright. What does that mean?”
“Well, it emphasizes the fact that even a small event can have a huge impact. The ‘Butterfly Effect’, really. Even something as simple as the flutter of a butterfly’s wings can cause a tidal wave on the other side of the world. By just talking with Malcolm X, I interested him enough to pass on what I told him. This prompted another man…Jacob Carpenter… to make the perfect, flawless mirror thirty years before it was supposed to happen.”
“Now, you say that no one else notices this change, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How do you see it then? I mean, what happened that allows you to recognize the difference?” Azani was genuinely interested in this problem.
“I’m not really sure, sir. I suppose it was because I wasn’t in this time frame to have my memories changed. I was still at the point in time that it happened. I think that could happen for any instance in which I go back in time. Something could happen to turn everyone blue, and I’d be the only person to not undergo a change.”
“Interesting. I’d ask for more research on all of this, but, I’m not sure that would be the safest thing to have happen. I’m not a fan of blue,” Azani grinned. “Well, I don’t see a problem with going on with the project, just, be careful with what is said and done, alright?”
“Certainly, sir. Thank you.” Stevens nodded and headed for the door.
“Oh, Bill?”
Stevens stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “Yes, sir?”
“Thanks for the report. It seems to be very in-depth.”
Stevens smiled. “You’re welcome, sir. Have a wonderful day.”

[mawa]

Sorry for neglecting this piece for so long, but I was swamped with studying. As I finally got to read it, I must say it's a piece of good work - really well written and descriptive. I definitaly will be waiting for more

[TheMacroprosopus]

Haha, don't worry about it. School comes first.

Well, I've been given two jobs now, so this will come a bit slower... Sorry. I wish I could work on it more. I really do.