Wednesday, Sept. 25, 2058
The following story is how I, Trevor Hall, remember it. It’s fantastical, but just so you know, I cross-referenced all that I’ve written with the dialogue recorded by my temple implant. It scanned the language part of my brain for image fluctuations and put those images into corresponding words.
That means it recorded not only my own voice-thoughts but also the words generated in my brain when I heard someone speak. Ten years ago, anyone assigned to studying Artifact One—as it was then called, before I experienced what it really is—had an implant inserted under the skin of their left temple. Our scientists wanted to make sure we didn’t miss any crucial observations. It’s a wafer-thin device. During the three weeks it was there, I couldn’t feel it, and until it was recently removed, I had forgotten—well not forgot, more like not given it much thought. I had other things on my mind.
I warn you my journal is not scientific. I’m not a scientist, I’m an Asimov law coder for Synthetic Consciousness.
I instructed a Synth to filter my month of voice-thoughts into an amount of text I can manage. Then I edited and structured my pertinent thought fragments into first-person present tense because that’s how the implant recorded it and that’s how I experienced it and I think it’s relevant that I keep my subjective reactions intact. In fact, I added a few. Like I say, I’m not a scientist. Anyway, here it is, starting the day after my arrival on the International Space Station, Tuesday, September 30, 2048. Yes, that’s ten years ago, but ten years has been three weeks for me. I’m still twenty-one, but my friends are not. Makes for awkward reunions.
(ebook and paperback available on amazon.)
www.amazon.ca/dp/B08FJDXNGX/
The following story is how I, Trevor Hall, remember it. It’s fantastical, but just so you know, I cross-referenced all that I’ve written with the dialogue recorded by my temple implant. It scanned the language part of my brain for image fluctuations and put those images into corresponding words.
That means it recorded not only my own voice-thoughts but also the words generated in my brain when I heard someone speak. Ten years ago, anyone assigned to studying Artifact One—as it was then called, before I experienced what it really is—had an implant inserted under the skin of their left temple. Our scientists wanted to make sure we didn’t miss any crucial observations. It’s a wafer-thin device. During the three weeks it was there, I couldn’t feel it, and until it was recently removed, I had forgotten—well not forgot, more like not given it much thought. I had other things on my mind.
I warn you my journal is not scientific. I’m not a scientist, I’m an Asimov law coder for Synthetic Consciousness.
I instructed a Synth to filter my month of voice-thoughts into an amount of text I can manage. Then I edited and structured my pertinent thought fragments into first-person present tense because that’s how the implant recorded it and that’s how I experienced it and I think it’s relevant that I keep my subjective reactions intact. In fact, I added a few. Like I say, I’m not a scientist. Anyway, here it is, starting the day after my arrival on the International Space Station, Tuesday, September 30, 2048. Yes, that’s ten years ago, but ten years has been three weeks for me. I’m still twenty-one, but my friends are not. Makes for awkward reunions.
(ebook and paperback available on amazon.)
www.amazon.ca/dp/B08FJDXNGX/
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