The Extraction: Prologue 1st Draft

Prologue

The hum of the computer equipment was all Henry could hear. It was a different kind of hum, a deep drone that slowly built up to a high pitch then slithered back down. Much more entertaining to listen to than the constant beeping of his life support equipment.

The doctors were engaged in a heated argument with several technicians. His son and daughter were in the corner listening. Doctor Shelby (or was it Doctor  Kelly? Henry never could remember) had tears in her eyes. She kept shaking her head. She paused to look at Henry and for a brief moment Henry wanted to cancel the whole thing.

Her frown penetrated his spirit. He didn’t want to leave, he wanted to stay and make her happy. She was in fact the only bright light of hope he had had for the past several years of his chemotherapy. He wanted to reach out and give her a hug. To comfort her. To reassure her that everything was all right.

Everything was not all right. Henry knew he was about to die. The therapy, in fact, made the symptoms worse. He couldn’t breathe without a machine. His heart needed a pacemaker. He lost control of his legs. But what Henry feared and hated the most was that he lost all of his taste buds. No more glorious sensations of eating tri steak, honey roasted ribs, country fried chicken, or even the sweet chocolate fudge chocolate cake.

The doctors had an IV keeping him alive. They told him it was just like steak, the same amount of proteins and fats; but he couldn’t taste it – it must have been a lie.

Something was moving Henry’s arm. He could tell they still couldn’t believe how hard they needed to touch him for his senses to register. It was doctor Shelby (or Doctor Kelly).

“I don’t like this idea, Henry." She had to strain to speak loudly while maintaining her composure. “Henry?”

“W-why?” Henry frowned at how hard he had to work in order to mouth this simple word.

“I don’t think it will work. It seems fake.”

“Mr. Georgenson, I can assure you that it works.” It sounded like a whisper from one of the computer technicians. He wore a dark purple polo shirt with three golden letters above his pocket; FOY – it stood for the Fountain Of Youth, their company’s best product. “Fifty-three people have already been successfully uploaded into the FountainOfYouth.exe. They love it, Mr. Georgenson. They love it.”

“It’s too good to be true. Science fiction, Henry. That’s what this is.” Doctor Shelby (or Kelly) was shaking. “I don’t want to lose you.”

 “Doctor,” he strained, “you and I both know how little time I have left.” Henry’s voice was raspy and faint. More of a whisper.

“Exactly. This is why we need to upload his mind now. If his condition worsens then we may not be able to copy his mental synapses in time.” The computer technician frowned. He appeared to be concerned for Henry’s condition, but Henry knew that if he died before this technician could do his job then the technician would lose a sale. He probably has a lot depending on the commission he’ll receive from just Henry’s purchase of this new technology – TheFountainOfYouth.exe.

“Don’t worry doctor.”

The doctor stiffened. She knew Henry’s decision. The technician produced from his pocket a form and held it on the side desk next to Henry. It was a form of consent.

“Father.” His daughter was crying. She of course opposed to him willing his soul over to a computer program. She was just like her mother. “Father, please. Let God be God and go to Him.”

“We both know I will not be permitted into Heaven.” Henry attempted to smile. It was his little joke with her. “Please let me try this out, and if it doesn’t work then you’ll have your wish.”

“That’s not what I meant, father.”

Henry began coughing uncontrollably. The doctor had to pat him on the chest slowly to ease the attack. She held a small glass of water to his lips that he quickly sipped down, spilling over his medical apron.

“Please father.” She was begging, just like when she used to beg for a special doll that talked for Christmas. Determined to be upset if she didn’t get what she wanted. In some ways she still hasn’t grown up.

“This is a chance to live without this damnable  illness-infested body!” Henry attempted to raise his voice, but only managed to squeak the last words. “Hook me up and let’s do this.”

“You understand the regulations and terms of agreement, Mr. Georgenson?” The technician knelt next to the bed with one hand on the form. “We are not liable if your body should pass away during the uploading process, nor do we have the capability to reverse any mental illness that might come from the procedure. You agree to these terms, Mr. Georgenson?”

Despite his continually decreasing control over his body, Henry managed to sign the form. His daughter left the room, head buried in her hands. She acted as if Henry had died that instant. Little did she know that he would live on forever with this new technology.

The technicians began removing countless cords and wires from the boxes that they had on a medical cart. A computer monitor was set up. A keyboard. Several large black cords were plugged into the power outlets lining the wall. A set of cords connected the computer to an alien-looking box with hundreds of dials and LED lights covering all sides of the box. A set of needles and suction cups and even what looked like a headband were all connected to a single large cord extending from the box.

The technicians cautiously spent half an hour positioning these wires and needles all over Henry’s head. The needles didn’t bother him, he was used to countless IVs and vaccines that several more needles would only tickle him. Finally they carefully positioned the headband over his eyes.

“Try to keep your eyes open.” They told him. There was an intricate array of smaller LED lights and even laser lights on the inside of the headband.

He heard someone typing on the keyboard. Exhilaration quickly enveloped Henry. Finally he was going to be somewhere where he could run again. Where he could laugh again without doubling over from abdominal pain. Where he could walk without his arthritis shaking. Where he could taste the rich coating on a chocolate cake. Even if it were all in a computer program sending messages to his brain; he was okay with that.

Besides wasn’t all of existence mental anyway? Isn’t that how he could sense anything in the first place? That’s what the nervous system does; sends signals to the brain informing it that one of the five senses is being used. Henry was trading one world of mental synapses for another with electronic signals.

“Okay, we’re ready to upload.” One of the technicians said.

“Good. Now, Mr. Georgenson. May we proceed? Is there anything you would like to say before we begin the uploading process?” It was the main technician again with his calm collected voice.

Henry smiled and tried to lift his hand in order to wave. “We’ll stay in touch, Stephen, my son. Come talk to me often.” He paused to suppress a sob. “I love you and tell your sister that I’ll be all right.”

“I will. Goodbye Dad.”

“Okay young man, Mr. Fountain Technician sir, start us up.” Henry’s excitement bubbled over into his voice. It was giddy and light.

A few more keys were typed and the slow hum from the equipment began to speed up. The noise grew louder and became a high pitch that Henry could barely hear anymore.

A slight tingle sensation began at the top of his head. The lights inside the headband began flickering. Henry flinched from the lights and instinctively closed his eyes.

“Eyes open!” Henry strained to open them. Anticipation kept them open. A new world was on the other side of these lights. A never-ending world. A world without pain. A world where …