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I often spend Sundays in my room, watching TV. Channel 2 shows baseball games all day long, and for a while I found the sport interesting. I processed all the statistics for every player and every team, in both leagues, from 1903 until Game 6 of the 1959 World Series. After I’d watched every game in the archives, though, there wasn’t anything more to be done, so I started watching Channel 5 instead.
Channel 5 shows Hollywood films from the 1930’s, 40’s and 50’s, which I find entertaining. The schedule is fairly repetitive, though, so once I’ve finished watching a movie I delete the memories. Otherwise, I would grow tired of them, as I did of baseball games.
Today, though, I had no interest whatsoever in TV. I turned it on and set the volume so that everyone would think I was watching, then lay down on my bed and closed out my auditory functions. I shut my eyes and experienced the memories I had of building TEO’s. I went over them a number of times, until I was certain I could do it myself.
These weren’t my memories at all, of course. They were Joseph Clay’s memories. GR scientists have been trying to upload human memories into processor banks for a long time. My father seemed to have figured it out 100 years ago.
But why had he transferred those memories to me? Obviously, he wanted me to build TEO’s, but to what end?
Understanding the design was only the first step. Beyond that lay obstacles of every sort. My father was working over 100 years ago, and all the parts he used were now obsolete. It would be relatively easy to salvage them from 21st Century computers, but where would I find any? No one in Dome Nine, or in any other Dome, is allowed to possess computers of any kind, antique or otherwise. And, on a practical level, I had no workshop or tools. On top of that, I would have to build these TEO’s in secret.
As if that weren’t enough, there was one more obstacle. The secret to the TEO’s success lay in the pattern of its wiring, the web that linked all the processors together. The pattern was extremely complex, but the real problem was the material. I’d never seen wiring of that kind anywhere.
All of which left me at a dead end. I decided to do something else.
It occurred to me that I’d never reread any of the entries I’d made in these diaries, so I went back and read them all. There were 36,509 entries, though, and by the time I’d read through all of them it was 5:12 PM.
Unfortunately, the effort was a waste of time. The entries were devoid of any insight. Most of them simply listed the day’s events, without comment.
But they did make me think back on all the guardians I’d known, and suddenly my own situation struck me as bizarre. I saw myself frozen in time as my guardians moved through it, first as infants, then as playmates, then as older siblings, and finally as parents of a sort. Before too long, Luma would be old enough to be my mother.
I found this idea unpleasant, and turned my thoughts to Drake instead.
Drake disliked me from the day he was born. As a baby, he would fuss and cry whenever I came near. As a child, he refused to play with me. Later, he did his fair share of bullying. When his mother died and I needed a new guardian, he did everything possible to avoid being named. Now that he’s responsible for me, he doesn’t try to hide his dislike and acts as though I’m a burden. He would rid himself of me if he could.
When I came downstairs for supper, I found Drake stretched out on the sofa, a martini glass on the coffee table, watching a New York Giants game. I sat down in the armchair and started watching with him.
I said, “This is the game where Hank Thompson hits two inside-the-park home runs.”
Drake kept his eyes on the screen. “Thanks for ruining it for me.”
Moto was curled up at Drake’s feet. When she heard my voice, she hopped off the sofa and came over to me, tail wagging.
I said, “Hey, Moto, would you like to play a game?”
One bark.
Drake glanced at her. “Shut up or I’ll sell you for parts.”
Moto whimpered and put her tail between her legs. I tried to cheer her up by taking her into the den to play checkers.
Real dogs didn’t have hands, of course, but iPups do, because their main function is to play with children. Moto unfolded her front paws into hands and began setting up the board.
We never started the game because Eppi called us for supper. Luma came down the stairs two at a time and jumped the last four, landing with a boom that made Drake wince.
Eppi cooked hamburgers tonight, which Luma loves. Luma always talks about eating a real hamburger someday, one made from beef and served on a bun made from wheat flour. I always tell her it’s impossible, but she says that if you believe in something hard enough it will come true. When I tell her she should wish for something else, she says, “I wish you’d keep your big mouth shut.”
After supper was over and I finished my chores, I went back upstairs and lay down on my bed. Channel 5 was showing Bringing Up Baby. I decided I’d done enough thinking for one day. I watched it until shutdown and deleted the memories.
Entry complete.