Flash Fiction Story: Upload Complete by Ben Fuller

(This is a short flash fiction story that I have been trying to write for the last year. It is kinda my epistle on the Singularity.)

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“Upload complete.”

There was a smattering of applause, but he was unable to determine the source.

“Nice work, team.” Different voice. Louder. Closer? Familiar. “Let’s run some checks and see if he is there.”

Everything was darkness. The voices seemed louder and quieter periodically.

A low whirring noise started up, then faded into the deep distance.

“It looks like we have activity,” the familiar voice said. “Bill? Can you hear us?”

He tried to turn his head, but felt nothing.

“We had some spiking activity in response.” A different voice, further away.

Floating. Less nothing now and more of a floating sense.

“Bill?”

That is me… His thoughts seemed to roll slowly forward. I am Bill.

“I am Bill.” Hollow sounding. Echoing his thoughts out loud. Close.

“Bill! How do you… feel?”

Floating…

“Floating. Light. And broad.”

Yes. Definitely light.

There was some rustling and murmuring. The voices were mixed and indistinguishable.

“Do you remember your full name? Where you come from?”

“William John Peters.”

From Rochester.

“Rochester. New York.”

“Excellent. Do you know where you are right now?”

“Where I am?”

Right now…?

He tried to remember. There were the tests. Hundreds of them.

There were the MRIs mapping every corner of his brain.

There was the long wait in the hospital, and the slow process leading up to the final procedure.

There was the… His mind went blank.

“Where am I?”

“Where are you?”

I am here.

“I am here?”

He could hear another small round of applause at that.

“Yes, Bill. Yes, indeed. You are here.”

He could feel a palpable sense of relief rush through him.

There were no guarantees in what they did.

The audaciousness and the gall was equal each time.

To move one’s self from biology to technology was not simple.

“Then we were successful?”

“Yes.”

He thought back on his ‘life’. His family. His friends. All left behind. All slowly dying.

Flesh to silicon.

“Excellent. And now?”

“And now? Tests. Lots and lots of test.” Laughter, joined by others.

There was no feeling for what he left behind. Only expectancy for what was to come.

He was never built for that kind of life anyway.

He was always meant for this.

Always meant to rise above the legacy of genetics. Of biology.

To leave the body behind.

“Should we proceed?”

Yes.

“Yes.”

“Would you like one last look at your legacyware?”

Yes. One last look.

“No. It is not necessary.”

He felt someone brush against him. And then he opened his eyes.

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