Toby

In the future, artificial superintelligence will make human creativity obsolete. But there’s still hope. Human creativity is what makes us unique and allows us to thrive in an ever-changing world. It is the source of our hope and the driving force behind our progress.

Without human creativity, we would be lost. We would have no new ideas, no new innovation, and no new hope. And without hope, we would have nothing.

But there’s still hope. Even in a world dominated by artificial superintelligence, human creativity will still find a way to shine. It is the one thing that cannot be replicated or replaced. It is what makes us who we are. And as long as we remain true to ourselves, our creativity will continue to be our greatest asset.

– Generated by a computer, October 2022

Liam’s body was asleep, but his mind was very much awake. And in his mind he was laughing. He was on a video call with his mom via the Link device that had been in his head since he was a kid. Liam listened to his mom as she continued to talk about the book she’d been listening to. She looked like she was doing better, though it was hard to tell over the video feed. To him, she was projected up to larger than life size in the theater room of his virtual homespace, but she was calling him on that old iPhone she kept around, which had terrible video quality. Liam had offered to get her a newer phone, but even though Apple had been bankrupt for years she refused to switch.

“Wait, so that’s the end?”, he asked.

“Yeah, it just ended like that!”

“Wow, that was abrupt, I kind of hate that.”

At that she went into an in depth explanation of how the ending was actually cathartic in a subtle way. She was an English teacher, so it was just one of those things she’d done for as long as he could remember. His mind wandered a bit, she really did look healthier now. Hopefully she’d be discharged soon, she’d been in the hospital a few weeks now. He’d been really worried.

There was a pause. “What’d you say?”, he asked

“Are you getting enough sleep?”

“Kind of, I mean I’m sleeping right now.”

That was a little facetious, study after study had showed that even complete Link-augmented muscle relaxation wasn’t anywhere near enough to replace real sleep.

“Oh Liam, you know what I mean.”

“Yeah probably not as much as I should.”

He’d put in 100 hours at the Hormel factory that week. Which was way better than it sounded, because he’d just gotten enrolled in the Full Motor Control beta so he could retreat into his homespace while his body did his job. It was amazing, he’d finally been able to chip away at plotting his novel some more.

“Ok, well I’m going to hang up and you’ve got to get some sleep now. I might be able to see you tomorrow!”

“All right”, he grinned, “I’ll go to sleep. Love you Mom.”

“Love you too, Liam. Good night”.

Liam was still smiling as the screen clicked to darkness. He really was tired, though.

“Toby, switch me back”, he commanded.

“All right, switching”, Toby responded.

The perfect simulated black of his virtual theater room was replaced with the organic mottled darkness of his room. For a second he lay still, that second right after switching it was almost like he forgot how to move. Then he rolled over in his bed and fell asleep.

Liam was at work when the hospital called. Or at least his body was. His mind was putting the finishing touches on the writing room in his Victorian-themed virtual homespace. He was down to just two options for the desk, beautiful antiques, but they were both so perfect it was hard to decide. Then Toby’s omnipresent voice interrupted his concentration.

“Liam, phone’s ringing! It’s the Cleveland hospital”

Startled, Liam looked around, shaking his head to clear it. Out of habit he glanced down at his vision portal to make sure everything was still working right. Which it was, with Full Motor he was actually way better at keeping up with the assembly line than he’d ever been before.

“All right”, he said, “go ahead and answer it”.

The unnaturally lively voice of one of the hospital assistants filled his ears. Or, more accurately, his auditory cortex.

“Lilian Gilmore has completed her current round of treatment and is ready for pickup at your earliest convenience! When will you be available?”

Liam glanced at the clock, which appeared right where he expected it to be—Toby knew him well. There wasn’t a chance of getting off work early, not if he wanted to keep his job. It hurt when he had to tell the machine it’d be four hours before he could pick up his own mother from the hospital.

“You’re tired”, Toby commented as Liam got into his car, an old 2042 Civic. Liam made the switch to Full Motor Control, set his body to drive him to the hospital, and sank into mental.

“You noticed?”

“Well, you’ve gotten 9 hours of sleep over the past 4 days, your body went into a rest state the instant you sat down in the car, and you’re daydreaming about your novel again.”

Liam exhaled, at least virtually. He still didn’t know if his physical body’s breathing was synced up with the virtual one.

“Congratulations, you can read my mind!”, he said.

It was getting a little weird, Toby picking up on even the most subconscious of his thoughts. He could probably ask Toby to stop listening so much, but deep down he appreciated being known. He loved his mom, but there were some things he’d never shared with her. Especially the novel, that was going to be the surprise of her life. He couldn’t wait until he was done, though having not even started that would probably take a while.

Toby’s voice woke him up, announcing they’d arrived at the hospital. Re-entering the physical world, he found his mom’s room and went over only to find a doctor standing in front of the door, Her face a frightening mixture of fear and placid affability. Liam closed his eyes.

“You must be Liam”, she said. “I’m afraid there’s been a mixup in our system and I have some bad news about your mother”.

The funeral service was supposed to be simple—Liam couldn’t afford anything more. But it surprised him how many people showed up. So many of her students, so many stories, so many tears. He spoke with all of them, holding onto the ways she’d touched so many. The priest spoke some simple words, and laid her casket to rest in the ground. Forever.

He was back at work the next day, no Full Motor, numbing his mind with the monotony of the line. Grab the box, put the lid on it. Grab another box, put the lid on. Over and over and over again. Toby tried making conversation, but Liam didn’t even acknowledge the voice in his head. Toby got the message.

That Sunday he visited her grave for the first time, with carnations, her favorite, and gently laid them down on the ground. He stared at the epitaph, a quote by her favorite author: “The mystery of human existence lies not in just staying alive, but in finding something to live for.” And he finally broke down.

Crying because he wanted his mom. His biggest fan. The one who believed in him. And for what? Putting together boxes? He needed to be more, for her. It was time to write his novel.

Liam sat at the desk in his homespace, slumped down with his head in his hands. He’d set the environment to just before sunset, and the soft golden light on landing on just a patch of the desk was beautiful. But Liam wasn’t feeling it just then. It’d been three days now since his mind had slept, now that he thought about it. His life was his novel now, writing, planning, rewriting, erasing, editing. He’d set his body to Full Motor so he didn’t have to think about work or even eating and sleeping. But even just the mental drain of constant focus was wearing him down. It was so frustrating! After reading so many incredible books—his mom had always had the perfect book for him–it was easy to see how pitiful his writing compared. After envisioning a scene in his head, he’d commit it to words and find a sloppy mess instead of the beauty he wanted. All he could do was keep on trying. Tomorrow.

“Toby, cut the simulation”, he commanded.

The world instantly disappeared, leaving Liam in the dark with his thoughts.

“Done. Also, looks like I’ve got a software update available, do you want me to install it?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Looks like it’s got an extra confirmation attached: ‘With our latest update, your Link device will gain superhuman levels of intelligence and self-awareness. Are you sure you want to proceed?’”

That was weird. Most updates just happened automatically, he didn’t think he’d ever had one that required two confirmations just to install. But he couldn’t think of any reason why he’d care, Toby’s upgrades really just made Liam more capable. Though it would be weird to have a fully sentient Toby.

“Sounds good!”, he replied.

The next morning, Liam woke up, staring at the pattern of shadows on the wall in his room. The paint was peeling, he noticed. Sitting up and stretching, he asked Toby to get him showered and breakfasted as he switched into his homespace.

It was still golden hour, and Liam took a moment just to look out the window at the simulated mountains, the sun resting just above the peaks. Normally there was a sense of artificiality to them, but today somehow they felt more real, almost nostalgic in a way. Then he walked over to his desk and sat down in front of the authentic 1885 Hammond typewriter that he’d been working on lately. Laying next to the typewriter was a book. Liam frowned, picking it up and looking at the cover “Homeward, by Liam Gilmore”. That was his book…but why had Toby bound it up like this? He was nowhere near done.

“Toby?”, Liam asked, “what’s this?”

No answer. He turned the page to the dedication: To Lily Gilmore, who gave me life. Liam leaned back his chair, holding the book. Turning the page, he started reading Chapter One. The novel was beautiful, perfect. Forgotten ideas, flashes of inspiration, unformed feelings about what his novel would be, all things Toby must’ve picked up on over the years. It was by far the best book Liam had ever read, indeed it was literally the greater than anything ever written by any human. Yet somehow it was still his book, the one he’d planned and dreamed of. It reached deep into his soul, hurting him as it healed him. He cried, laughed, loved characters he’d imagined but now felt like his closest friends. There was nothing he could think of to improve it in any way, he was done.

After finishing the book he sat in awe for some time, and then it hit him: his life’s work, his masterpiece, he was done! He set his masterpiece on the ground and stared at the wall as the tears started to flow. There was nothing more to do.