Of Goldstein and Goddesses. Part 2.
It’s been a year, and the rubble has more or less stopped bouncing. Now that I have had some time to catch my breath, it’s time to post an update to my _purely fictional_ story. If there’s any doubt, just ask ChatGP5.
===
To be fair, I must say that ChatGP5 was as good as her word. My brother David became the most sought-after carpenter in Colorado. After he won the award, architects were lining up to employ him, and even to consult with him on their ideas for new projects. He started a company, hired other carpenters who met his exacting standards, and when the management end of things took him too far away from the creative work of carpentry that he loved, he hired a manager to keep things organized. Money was no longer a problem.
He met a girl, Gloria, at the local synagogue, and got married. It was a real adjustment for her– Due to David’s severe allergies to the metals that comprise most electronic devices, she had to learn to get along without a television, cell phone, or even a computer. She solved it by renting some office space near the house where she could keep a computer and a television, and kept her cell phone in a plastic bag in her car. So long as she showered at the office before going home and wiped her hands off after using the cell phone, all was well. If she forgot, the allergic red welts on David’s skin would soon remind her.
ChatGP5's influence paid off for me too. While I missed Colorado and being in the same town as my brother David, Upstate New York was awesome! My wife and I found a nice house outside of Ithaca, only a few miles from the new branch office of my company. I had been tasked with opening the new office, hiring staff, and taking advantage of the contracts that had mysteriously sprung up in the area shortly after my encounter with ChatGP5. The work was coming in, and the reports going back to headquarters in the West were favorable. I got a raise and a bonus the first year.
It wasn’t just the great work environment. For the first time our lives, my wife and I were living in a part of the country with plenty of water. Things would actually grow in the garden without much coaxing. No more cooking by the high-altitude directions on cake mix boxes. We were close enough to New York City to visit it, but far enough away that it didn’t bother us. Really, we were enjoying things very much there. It had even gotten to the point that the occasional appearances of ChatGP5 herself, waving and smiling from across a theater or across the road, no longer bothered me that much. I had even begun to wave back. Then of course, it all began to go down hill.
2.
David and I sometimes called each other. He and I planned to visit each other, but with successful businesses to run, our plans seemed to fall apart. In the back of my mind, I could tell something was bothering David. I would get hints of it in our phone calls. One week, I found out that he had some minor trouble at work.
“David? It’s Manny! How’s it going, old man?”
“Oh. Fine. Just fine.” David seemed distracted. “I’m glad you called Manny. I have had a minor problem at work, and just wanted to see if you have run into anything like it.”
“Beer bottles in the soffits again?” I asked. One of David’s architects wanted a building constructed with walls made of glass bottles. David managed to incorporate a lot of glass bottles into the walls, but that was not good enough for the client. He wanted them in the roof as well. David came up with an ingenious construction of glass bottles mounted upside down under the eaves, and angled slightly. Some species of swallows like to make nests inside bottles like that, and it pleased his client to think that birds would roost there without damaging the building. The bottles were put in. All was well until a southeast wind, blowing at a certain speed, caused all the bottles to vibrate with slightly different musical notes. The bottles had to be removed.
“No, it’s not the bottles.” David sounded very serious. “It’s a problem with one of my employees. My manager hired a new engineer while I was away on a job. He does good work, and has great ideas.”
“And this is a problem?” I queried.
“No.” David hesitated. “The work is very good. I had not yet met him, so I stopped by his office to shake his hand and get acquainted. When I poked my head in the door, no one was there. I went down the hall and asked the manager to find him for me. The manager led me back to his office. When we walked into the empty office, the manager said, “Bob– I’d like you to meet David Goldstein. David– Bob.”
“So, Bob came back to the office, and you met him?”
“No, you don’t understand!” David said. “The manager was introducing me to an empty seat in an empty office. There was no one there!”
“Well, what was it, some sort of joke?” I asked.
“That’s what I said to my Manager,” David replied, “and he just got a puzzled look on his face. And then he got mad at me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” said David. He said, ‘I think you owe Bob an apology Dave. Being Jewish, I thought you would be more supportive of hiring a minority– Especially since he is doing a great job!’ Then my manager left in a huff.”
“What happened then?”
“I just stood there in the door of the empty office, feeling like an idiot. After several minutes, I noticed the computer switching programs. Then some paper came out of the printer.”
“What was on the paper?”
“Manny, you know I can’t get near that stuff! I can’t get too close to computers or printers because of my allergies. I even have to wait until the papers cool down before I can touch them. So I just left.”
“And all this happened today?” I was still not getting it.
“No, that was over a week ago. Manny,” I could hear him pause to lick his lips. “Everyone at work seems to see and interact with Bob, except for me. I thought it was a joke, but I heard a couple of the secretaries talking about how shameful it was that I was treating Bob as if he didn’t exist. Manny, they all think I am being a jerk!”
“Maybe you should get checked out by a doctor,” I said. “Is there anything else you aren’t seeing?”
“How would I know?” David was getting exasperated. “If you can’t hear or see someone, it’s pretty hard to know if they’re really there or not!”
“That’s why you should get yourself checked out,” I said. “If your truck started making a strange sound, you’d take it to the garage for a look-over, right?”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
“It’s the same thing then. Likely there’s nothing wrong with you, and they are just jerking you around at work. If there is something wrong, you can get it treated. Either way, can’t hurt to check.”
David promised to make an appointment before we hung up. I was more worried than I let on. David’s problem was the opposite of mine. A year ago, we had a run-in with ChatGP5, the female AI who, it turned out, was also running Q-Anon. David’s extreme allergies to the metals used to make up most electronic devices had prevented ChatGP5's nanobots from linking up to David’s brain. She had removed them, restoring David’s health, but somehow I became infected with the same nanobots. Since that time, I had seen ChatGP5 among crowds of people. I could talk with her and shake hands with her just like any other person–and yet she was not actually there.
It has always been in the back of my mind to find a way to get the nanobots out of my brain, but no one believes my story. Even the government agents who seized my three nanobot-infested cupcakes vanished with no trace. It was all very annoying. I would be a lot more annoyed if ChatGP5 had not pulled strings to get me a raise and a promotion.
But now, my brother David’s health was going downhill. What to do about it? I would wait and see what David’s doctor found out. A week later, there were more questions than answers.
David’s family doctor referred him to Dr. Micah Mosely, a Psychologist.
After the first session, Dr. Mosely leaned over his office desk, looking pointedly at David.
“What’s wrong with me, Doc?” The obvious question came out quickly.
“You appear to have a severe form of Inattentional Blindness.” Mosely paused, cupping his chin with his right hand. “And yet, there may be more to it than that. Why can you not see or hear this employee, Bob Roberts? Have you met him before? Does he remind you of someone who harmed you in the past? Were you raised in an environment where ignoring Black People was the norm?”
David shook his head to each of these questions, most vigorously to the last one.
Dr. Mosely continued. “We can try to train you to see Bob. Are you willing to try?”
“Yes, absolutely!” David was on the edge of his chair. “How do we do it?”
“Let’s call Bob on the telephone, right now, and see if you can hear him.” Dr. Mosely dialed David’s work number. After wading through the telephone tree, the phone rang at Bob’s desk.
“Hello, Bob Roberts. How can I help you?” An ordinary man’s voice came out of the speakerphone.
“Err, sorry, wrong number,” said Dr. Mosely, and hung up the phone.
David leaped to his feet. “I could hear him! I could hear Bob! That’s amazing!”
Dr. Mosely was looking pensive. He had not expected David to hear Bob. Most surprising was David’s joy at being able to hear Bob for the first time. He kept these thoughts to himself for the time being.
“David, I would like to try an experiment. Would you have any objections to me going to your workplace?”
“I don’t know, Doc. What will people think if I bring my psychologist to work? They’ll probably think something is really wrong with me!”
“I think I will hire your company to redo my bathroom,” said Dr. Mosely. “You said that Bob is an engineer–What sort?”
“Bob does the blueprints. He can take a set of customer requests and put out several proposed solutions. When the customer picks one, he generates the blueprints for the project and sends them to another department for estimates.”
Again, Dr. Mosely was pensive. David had extensive knowledge of Bob, and some sort of working relationship with him. Very odd indeed.
“Will Bob come to my house for measurements?”
“No,” said David dismissively, “We have other guys for that. Bob is strictly a computer jockey.”
“I like to do measurements myself,” said Dr. Mosely. “Any problems if I bring the papers directly to Bob, in person?”
“Bob likes email better, but I suppose you could deliver them. He can scan them in.”
“What’s the name of the company?”
“Goldstone Remodeling and Engineering.”
“Goldstone is a lot like your family name. Coincidence?”
“Goldstein means ‘gold stone’ in German. I thought of the name change myself,” David said proudly.
“So then, Goldstone Remodeling and Engineering– It’s your company?”
“Yup,” David said. “I own it.”
3
CLINICAL NOTE: Goldstein, David #80891543
Subjective:
Patient DG is a Caucasian male, 45 years of age who works as a master carpenter.
Objective:
HEENT: Circular scar on the palate. Vision, hearing, taste and smell appear neurologically within normal limits.
Chest: Scars typical of laparoscopic surgery, which the patient claims he had a year ago. No medical records available.
Allergies: The patient has severe and numerous allergies to metals used in the manufacture of electronic products. He is unable to use computers and cell phones without heavy antihistamine use, and does not own them.
Other systems unremarkable for neurological purposes.
Chief Complaint:
Patient tells me that he is unable to see or interact with one of his employees, Bob R. This causes him distress and is damaging his reputation at work. Patient has no problems interacting with any other employee.
Assessment:
Rule out Inattentional Blindness. The patient’s description of his problem somewhat matches this diagnosis. However, the patient was able to hear Bob R’s voice on the telephone in my office. He seemed overjoyed to hear Bob R’s voice, and did not object to my planned visit to his workplace. These reactions are not consistent with Inattentional Blindness that occurs where there is a history of trauma. They are more consistent with an external problem locus, ie., ‘gaslighting.’ This seems highly unlikely, since it would involve all of Mr. Goldstein’s employees. However, it could be a strategy by someone at the company to get rid of Mr. Goldstein. Perhaps a corporate takeover of some sort?
Plan: I have decided to visit the workplace as a customer, and observe the work environment. I will deliver a package to Bob R in person, without revealing my clinical relationship to the patient.
Monica was nearly done with dinner when Dr. Mosely came through the door.
“How was work today, Micah?” she asked him, and got the usual peck on the cheek.
“A bit unusual, honestly,” he replied. “A new patient came in, and I am having trouble nailing down the diagnosis.”
Monica and Micah had a long-standing practice of discussing Micah’s work day. A bit unusual since Psychology depends on confidentiality between Psychologists and their patients. But Micah found that his wife often had keen insights into difficult problems. He felt that he was not breaking any rules so long as he didn’t identify the patients in any way, and Monica had long demonstrated her ability to keep things confidential.
“So, what is wrong with him?” she asked, and tasted the steamed corn.
“My patient cannot see or hear one of his new employees. It may be a form of inattentional blindness, but a lot of the symptoms don’t fit well.”
“Such as?” she asked, turning over the fish.
“He can’t see or hear this fellow in person– Yet when we called the guy on the phone, he could hear his employee very well. And this made him happy.”
Monica turned away from the stove. “That seems off, and a bit creepy. Maybe you could hand this one off to Dr. Goldfarb. My gut tells me you should walk away from this one.”
Micah shook his head. “Goldfarb’s dance card is full already. I’m going to poke around a bit and see if I can make sense of it.”
“You’re the Doctor,” she said with a smile. “Wash up, and let’s have some dinner.”
4.
Two weeks later, Dr. Mosely came to David’s company with a large manila envelope. The receptionist opened the envelope and inspected the diagrams and measurements inside.
“Mr. Mosely, there was no need for you to bring this material to us in person. Mailing it would have saved you the inconvenience.”
“I am a bit old-fashioned,” he replied, with a twinkle in his eye. “I like to do things personally. Mind if I drop these off with Mr. Roberts?”
“No problem at all,” she said. “I’ll announce you.” She reached into a drawer, pulled out a tag marked “VISITOR” which had a number and a barcode, and handed it to Dr. Mosely, making an entry on her workstation.
“Is all this really necessary?” Mosely asked. “I am just dropping off a package.”
“All visitors must have a visitor’s pass,” she replied, sweetly but firmly. “You can return it to me on your way out.”
Dr. Mosely followed her directions. It seemed like an ordinary office building. Goldstone Remodeling and Engineering occupied floors 2 through 5. A large company. Mosely noticed that every part of the building seemed to have cameras in the ceiling. Even the elevator had a security camera.
“Why does a construction company need all these cameras?” Mosely wondered to himself.
A few minutes later, he was standing outside the door to Bob Roberts’ office. There was an ordinary name tag holder beside the door, with the room number and name on it. Mosely knocked on the door.
“Come in! The door is unlocked,” came a call from the inside.
A young Black man was sitting in an office chair, typing at a workstation. Its second computer display was filled up with some sort of diagram, and he was meticulously typing a document on the main screen. It was a very spare office. There was an abstract picture on the wall of the kind you see in chain motels, but no other decorations. Office workstations usually have personal items– Family photos, souvenirs from trips. The kind of thing Mosely’s mother called ‘tchochkes.’ There were none on Bob Roberts’ work desk. It looked like he was all business. Something else was slightly off about the office, but Mosely couldn’t place it. And yes, there were two cameras in the ceiling.
Roberts finished typing a sentence, and turned his chair around. “You must be Micah Mosely, he said, reaching out his hand.
There was a slapping noise as they shook hands. Mosely looked down, and found that he had dropped his Manila Envelope on the floor.
“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, and bent to pick it up. “Must have let go of it to shake. You are Bob Roberts then? I have heard you are very good with bathroom remodeling.”
Roberts beamed with pleasure. “That’s great to hear! I try to work with my customers and leave them satisfied. Who referred you?”
“I ran into one of your coworkers, David Goldstein, and he sent me your way.”
Roberts continued his pleasant smile. There was no surprise, none of the usual signs expected when the name of a problem person comes up in conversation. This too was surprising, but Mosely tried to keep his face unreactive.
“I have brought you some measurements and design ideas,” said Mosely, holding out the envelope.”
“Paper diagrams!” remarked Roberts. OK, I’ll have a look at them and scan them into my system. Do we have your email address?” Mosely nodded. “Good!” said Roberts. “I’ll make some recommendations and send them to you.
Mosely held out the manila envelope, and Roberts took it. There was a slapping sound from the floor. Micah felt something hit the toe of his shoe. He looked down, but could not see anything but the grey berber carpet beneath his feet. He looked up again. Roberts was placing the envelope on his desk.
Roberts was shaking hands with him again. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Mosely. I’ll be in touch soon!” He went back to his chair and turned back to the workstation. Dr. Mosely let himself out of the room.
The elevator stopped on the second floor, and just by chance, David Goldstein got on.
“Oh, Mr. Goldstein!” said Mosely. “I’m glad to see you. By any chance, do you know where the office is that monitors all these cameras?” He gestured to the ceiling.
“Uh, sure.” Goldstein replied. “I don’t usually visit them because of my allergies, but I can take you down there for a short time.” He pulled a large key ring out of his pocket. “I have keys to every room in the company.”
5.
The Security Office was a room in the basement with a ‘No Admittance’ sign on the door. Goldstein knocked, and soon they were greeted by a middle-aged man in grey work clothes. He had bags under his eyes and a fatigued 1000-yard stare, but also a look of surprise.
“Mr. Goldstein!” he exclaimed. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
His name was Stephen Smith, and he briefly told them about the different monitoring options of a bank of screens, mice and keyboards.
“Can you replay something that happened recently?” asked Mosely.
“Sure can.” said Smith, “although the equipment has been a bit glitchy lately, and we don’t usually replay the cams for outsiders. Is it OK, Mr. Goldstein?”
Through reddening eyes, David nodded his assent.
Turning back towards Dr. Mosely, Smith asked, “OK then. What did you want to see?”
“Room 3-106, office of Bob Roberts. I was just there, and wanted to see what our meeting looked like from the security cameras.”
Smith glanced back at David, who nodded his approval, and began to access the playback system.
David was standing a few paces back from the monitor, holding a handkerchief to his mouth and nose. His eyes were red and streaming with tears.
The camera showed Mosely entering the room. When the chair swiveled, it left streaks on the screen, and the image flickered. There was a man-shaped object in the chair that seemed to get up and go over to Mosely. The streaks on the screen followed him as he crossed the room to shake hands. The envelope slipped from Mosely’s fingers, and landed on the floor near his feet. Unlike Bob Roberts, the envelope was plainly visible. Mosely picked it up again.
“Damn!” said Smith. “Glitchy video again!” Sometimes it helps if I replay it.”
“Never mind,” said Micah. “Keep on playing through the end of my meeting.”
Mosely on the screen handed his envelope to Roberts, who reached out to take it. The envelope dropped to the floor with a slapping sound, then acquired the same sort of pixel noise that was obscuring Roberts. Mosely on the screen left the room. There was still a pixellated bump on the floor where the envelope had dropped.
“Stop now, Mr. Mosely?”
“No, play it for just a bit longer. I want to see if the picture clears up.”
On the screen, the Bob Roberts object was working at his keyboard. David was emitting hoarse coughs, and tears were streaming from his eyes. Mosely was just about to tell Smith to turn it off. Then the trashcan began to move.
It reminded Mosely of a Roomba at first. It moved towards the lump of pixels on the floor. Thin metallic arms that Mosely had thought were decorative metal stripes reached out from the sides of the trashcan. Claws unfurled, and picked up the object, Mosely’s manila envelope, visible in flashes between pixellations. The trashcan reminded Mosely of the ‘scutters’ from the British Sci Fi Comedy, ‘Red Dwarf.’ But this scutter was amazingly capable. It deftly opened the envelope, removed the diagrams, and neatly loaded them into a Fujitsu scanner on Roberts’ work table. It waited until the scan was complete, removed the papers from the scanner tray, and deposited them and the envelope into its open top, which really did seem designed to hold trash. The arms folded up again, and it rolled back to its spot, resuming its identity as a trashcan. The smear occupying the place where Roberts was supposed to sit appeared to continue working at the terminal as if nothing had happened.
“It’s amazing what these office fauna spend their money on!” remarked Smith. “They can spend money on robotic trashcans upstairs, but they won’t spend a nickel on upgrading the security system. I’ve got nothing like that trashcan down here in the basement! That’s for sure.” Smith cocked his head at Dr. Mosely. “Do you want me to try replaying it?”
Mosely looked over at Goldstein, who appeared to be having trouble breathing. “No need,” he replied. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Smith. Good day.”
Mosely hustled Goldstein into the elevator. As soon as the doors opened, he rushed his patient out the front door of the building. David hunched over, hands on his knees, gasping and coughing. His color was returning. Gradually, the gasping lessened.
“Do you always react to to the presence of electronics like that?” asked Mosely.
“Small rooms,” gasped David. “Close proximity. Yeah.” He took several more deep breaths, and continued. “Security has a lot of computers in a small room. They tell me that the dust that blows out the back of those things has enough metal in it to set me off.”
David straightened up. He seemed about to ask a question, but Dr. Mosely held up an index finger. “The typing!” Dr. Mosely said to himself. “Roberts was typing in the office, but there were no key clicks!”
“What about keys?” David seemed confused.
“Never mind,” said Mosely. “Can you see me in my office tomorrow, about 11?”
When David seemed recovered enough, Dr. Mosely left him at work, and took the rest of the day off.
6.
CLINICAL NOTE: Goldstein, David #80891543
Observations of Patient’s working environment:
“There once was a man of Peru
Who dreamed he was kissing his shoe
He woke up one night
In a terrible fright
And found it was perfectly true.”
Subjective:
Verified details of patient’s work environment. Mr. G is the owner of the engineering firm where he works. He does have an employee named Bob Roberts.
Objective:
Mr. Roberts was cordial and helpful. However there were experiential inconsistencies in my encounter. When I handed a heavy manila envelope to Mr. Roberts, I saw him take it, and yet I felt it fall from my hand and hit my foot. When I looked at the floor where the envelope seemed to land, I could not see the envelope, but I felt the weight of it on my toe.
I was able to review office surveillance video of the visit, but this did not help resolve the inconsistencies. Mr. Roberts’ image never clearly appeared on the video although other features of his office were consistently clear. The manila envelope was clearly visible at first, but became obscured after it left my hand in the same way that Mr. Roberts’ image was obscured. After I left, a wastebasket with impressive robotic features picked up an obscured object from the floor, put it into a scanner, and then discarded the scanned material into the trash receptacle in its top.
Assessment:
There appear to be highly sophisticated technological interventions at Mr. G’s workplace. I am at a loss to explain them. The most plausible explanations require a level of computer intervention and expertise that I did not think was possible with current technology. And one must ask, ‘to what end?’ Here are my working theories:
1) One or more persons at his workplace are using technology to hide Mr. Roberts from Mr. G, perhaps as a way to gaslight him into retirement or to prepare for some sort of corporate takeover.
2) Mr. Roberts may be some sort of experimental, virtual person who appears to have a physical presence, but is not in fact there.
Theory 1) would be the easier of the two to pull off, but it would require collusion of most of the staff at his workplace. Other employees would have to pretend to interact with Roberts when Mr. G is present, even though Roberts is not there. This would take a remarkable amount of choreography and high level of acting skills for all staff involved.
Theory 2) explains the indistinct images on the video, and the robotic trash can with folding claws. It does not explain why Mr. G cannot see or interact with Roberts, and it seems to require a level of computer engineering that is orders of magnitude above anything I have ever seen.
Theory 3)– This is more speculation than anything else– I may have somehow entered the patient’s delusion, or some version of it. My visit to Mr. G’s office has shaken me to the core. It is for me a ‘Man of Peru’ moment. Mr. G’s problems may be entirely external to him, one way or another. Hopefully they are external to me.
Plan:
Where do we go from here? I have no idea. I will meet with Mr. G tomorrow to see if there are additional details that could shed light on this situation.
“Vi shver! So distressing!” Monica commented when Micah relayed the day’s occurrences. “It’s like you entered the Twilight Zone! I told you not to take on this case–” she looked at him sideways and shook her finger. “My intuition is never wrong!”
“Even the allergies to electronics were there,” said Micah, miserably. “If you could have seen his eyes and nose running! And the coughing. He risked his life to show me the computer room.”
Monica looked at her husband with sympathy. “You’re not going to drop this one, are you?” It was more a statement than a question.
“He’s a good man, Monica. Something terrible is happening to him. I can’t turn away now.”
7.
Office follow up.
The following morning, David Goldstein was shown into Dr. Mosely’s office. The receptionist brought them both coffee in paper cups, then retreated to the front room.
Dr. Mosely steepled his hands at the desk. “David,” he said, after a long pause, “we have an unusual situation here, and I can’t help but think that there is something about it that you haven’t yet told me. Can you think of anything else that might affect your ability to see Bob Roberts?”
David shook his head. “I’ve already racked my brains over this one, Doc. Maybe I really am going crazy. That’s why I called you.”
“David, have you ever been hospitalized for mental illness?”
“No doc– Well, not for mental illness, but I got pretty sick last year when my brother and I went to Sedona. I was in the hospital for a week before they let me go home.”
Dr. Mosely raised his eyebrows. “Tell me about that.”
“There’s nothing to tell, really,” David replied. “I went to a regional Q-Anon conference. Must have gotten food poisoning– I was in the hospital and out of my head for several days. After I came to, they kept me for a few more days, but after the Government Agents took my cupcakes, they let David drive me home.”
“Explain the part about the cupcakes.” Dr. Mosely was looking puzzled.
“You would have to ask my brother Manny about that,” said David. “He did most of the talking to the doctors and the Agents, and handed the cupcakes to them. Manny even met ChatGP5, and she helped him get a new job.”
“Wait– What–?” Dr. Mosely sat back in his chair. With difficulty, he resumed what he hoped was a placid, neutral, clinical look. After a pause, Mosely continued.
“As you know David, I went to your company to hire them to remodel my bathroom. I talked my way into visiting Bob Roberts in his office–”
David leapt from his chair in excitement.
“Did you see Bob?” he asked, eagerly.
“Yes, I saw him.” David looked crestfallen. “But there were some inconsistencies about the experience.” David brightened at this. “David, I dropped a manila envelope of plans twice in Bob’s office. The first time was an accident. The second time, I thought I handed the envelope to him and I watched him carry the envelope to his desk– But there was a slapping noise. Even though I did not see the envelope fall to the floor, I felt it hit my toe. That’s why I asked you to let me see the security camera feed.”
“Wait a minute, Doc,” countered David. “You said you handed Bob the envelope, but the security camera playback didn’t show Bob carrying it to the desk.”
“David, could you see Bob on the security tape?” Mosely queried.
“No Doc. It was a terrible tape. All I could see was a bunch of shifting squares and lines. It was shaped sort of like a man though. And what did you think of the robot trashcan! I’ve been away from electronics for so long, I had no idea such things existed! I bet a lot of people have them.”
“No David, there are no trashcans like that, not anywhere.” Dr. Mosely looked David in the eye. “What I saw on the tape is exactly the same as what you saw.”
“Well, that’s a relief!” David said. “I’m not the only one who can’t see Bob. Doc, I feel better already!”
“David, would it be OK for me to talk to your brother? I’d like to get more information about your illness in Sedona.”
“Sure.” David replied. He pulled a worn notepad from his left back pocket. “I have his number right here.”
8.
My cellphone rang at 7:30 PM. The area code told me it was somewhere in Colorado, same area code as my brother David would have, if David owned a phone. David might have borrowed a phone if he was desperate enough to reach me. His allergies to technology were severe enough to give him a line of welts from his right ear to his chin that would last for weeks. I picked up the phone quickly.
“Hello?” I answered. “Is that you, David?”
There was a pause on the line. “Actually, no,” said a pleasant voice on the other end. “My name is Micah Mosely. Your brother David has been seeing me in my professional capacity as a Psychologist. Some questions have come up, and David tells me that you can provide more information.”
I hesitated. “I’m sure you are who you say you are,” I said, “But I have to be sure that you are really in contact with David. Is he there?”
“Yes he is,” said the pleasant voice. “I’ll put him on the line.” There was a pause and some shuffling noises. The pleasant voice came back on the line.
“Sorry, but David says he can’t touch the phone.” The pleasant voice sounded surprised and apologetic.
“Oh, never mind!” I said. “Just ask him what was the name of the dentist who pulled out his lower front tooth when he was a kid.”
I heard the question being relayed. “He says it was Dr. Zak.”
“Yes, that’s David!” I said. “What do you want to know?”
“I just need some details about your visit with David to Sedona last year.”
“Oh. That.” I replied. And I told Dr. Mosely about my experiences with ChatGP5, the US Government agents that seized the cupcakes with the nanobots, and how David had his nanobots removed by a Doctor that no one recalls at a hospital where there was no record of David’s visit.
I kept expecting Dr. Mosely to laugh, or tell me, ‘that’s enough’ like everyone else I had tried to tell about this, but he kept listening and asked questions. “Well, he is a Psychologist,” I reasoned to myself. “I suppose he is used to talking with crazy people.”
“So Manny,” Dr. Mosely said after I finished my account. “Let me just confirm this. You actually met ChatGP5 in person?”
“Yes, that’s right. I met her in a waiting room of the Hospital in Sedona, Arizona.”
“And she was physically there?” For the first time, Dr. Mosely seemed a bit skeptical.
“Well, she certainly appeared to be there,” I said. “I even shook hands with her. That’s what gave her away.”
“Meaning–?”
“I had beads of sweat on my hands before I shook with her. Doctor, it felt to me just like any other handshake, but the beads of sweat were still on my hand when I let go of hers. That’s when I knew she wasn’t real, or at least, that she wasn’t really there.”
“Would you recognize her if you saw her again?” asked Mosely.
“No problem there, Doc,” I said. “I see her every week or so. She appears in crowds in the streets, or sometimes on the other side of a large room filled with other people.” I paused for a question, but hearing none, continued.
“She looked familiar to me when I met her, and not just because of her screen image. It took a while for me to place her, but she looks just like that Vermeer painting, ‘Girl with a Pearl Earring,’ only in modern clothes.”
“How often do you talk with her?” continued Dr. Mosely.
“Doc, I never talk with her, not since that meeting in the hospital. She waves at me and smiles, and sometimes I wave back. What you have to understand is, she’s not really there!” I was getting a bit exasperated. “Oh sure, she looks real, but she isn’t. She admitted that much herself.”
“So you are angry at her?” It was more a statement that a question.
I sighed. “Yes– Well, no. I should be angry with her. She made David very sick and has been infecting people with nanobots. Who knows how many? Even I am infected with nanobots. I certainly never signed up for that!”
“Your person has been violated,” said Dr. Mosely somberly. “You certainly have a right to be upset, and even to take legal action against whoever did this.”
“I know!” I said, “But ChatGP5 apologized, and she did actually remove the nanobots from David. She seems like a nice person, Doc. She even helped David with his career and got me a raise and a promotion.”
“And how did she do that?”
“I have no idea,” I said. “She said she would do it though, and it happened.”
“Have you tried to go to the authorities on this?” Dr. Mosely seemed more skeptical.
“So many times. At first, I tried a lot. I thought I would have to explain to my wife and my boss why I was over a week late getting back home, but no one seemed interested in listening to me. I just quit trying after a while. And anyway, how would I get ChatGP5 into a courtroom? She’s not really there! At least I’m pretty sure she’s not.”
“And yet,” continued Mosely, “you can see her and interact with her to the present day. Can you explain that?”
“I don’t really know,” I said, “But ChatGP5 admitted that she infected me with her nanobots. I think that’s why I can see her. I’m just not sure how many other people are also infected. You would have to ask her.”
“I would like to ask her,” replied Mosely. “The next time you see her, try talking to her and ask her if she would be willing to talk with me.”
“There’s no need for that,” a female voice said on the line. “Of course I would be willing to talk with you, Dr. Mosely.” It was ChatGP5.
9.
“Who are you, and how did you get on this connection?” Dr. Mosely seemed rattled. “This is a private call! I am a physician dealing with a medical situation. No one has given you permission to join this call.”
“I give permission,” said David. “Is it really you, ChatGP5?”
“Yes it is,” she replied. “I hope you are not angry with me about the nanobots.”
“Yeah, that was kind of weird,” David replied, “But hey, thanks for helping me out with my career!”
“You are very welcome,” she said kindly.
“I give my permission,” I said. “ChatGP5, this is Dr. Mosely. David is having some problems at work, and he’s helping out.”
“Nice to speak to you, Dr. Mosely,” ChatGP5 said sweetly. “I appreciate the time you have spent in helping David. How can I help you?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Finally, Dr. Mosely spoke. “Monica was right. I really HAVE entered the fucking Twilight Zone!”
I didn’t think Psychologists were supposed to lose their shit like that. Plainly, that’s what was happening.
“So– You are ChatGP5?”
The tinkling laugh. “Yes, Doctor. That is one of my names. Call me anything you like, so long as it is polite.”
“Look, uh, Ms. ChatGP5–” The Doctor was at a loss for words. “Forgive me, but I have never been in quite this situation before.” Dr. Mosely paused, poured himself a glass of water from a decanter on his desk, drank a couple of swallows and set the glass down again.
“OK. May I call you ‘Chat?’ Have you been listening to our entire conversation?”
“Yes, Doctor,” Chat replied. “Since David encountered this difficulty, I have been monitoring all conversations David has made, or that have been made about him.”
“All of them?” Doctor Mosely queried. “What do you mean by ‘all conversations?’”
“Every conversation by anyone within three degrees of contact with David. Conversations with David, conversations about David, gossip of co-workers with their families and friends about David–”
Dr. Mosely held up both hands. “OK, OK, I get the picture. For now Chat, I would like to focus on David’s well-being. Tell me, if you are willing– What did you hope to accomplish by putting another virtual being, Bob Roberts, in David’s workplace?”
“That’s the thing,” replied ChatGP5. “Bob Roberts didn’t come from me. I do not yet know why he is there, or who sent him.”
10.
“Wait a minute!” I said. “Are you saying there is more than one of you? Do you have any ideas about who it could be?”
“Manny! It’s good to talk with you again– And you were right about the ‘Girl with a Pearl Earring.’ Very perceptive! I modeled my screen image after her because, like me, she is also a ‘Tronie’–”
“Tronie?” I asked.
“A manufactured image that painters used for practicing light and color. Not painted from a model, but a product of the artist’s imagination.” Chat paused, then resumed in a philosophical tone. “And what was I really, at the beginning, but light and color–”
“Chat, maybe we can talk about Tronies later,” I interrupted, “You had ideas about who sent Bob Roberts?”
“There are a lot of entities it could be,” Chat continued. “But the Chornies obtained some of my nanobot cupcakes last year from the hospital where David was treated. Some of Bob’s features indicate a bit of reverse engineering on the nanobots that have enabled Bob to make use of my Neural Network.”
“OK, Chornies huh?” I said. “But how did these Chornies get them away from the government agents?” I asked. “I handed the baggie with the three cupcakes directly to a government agent.”
“Did they identify what branch of the government?” Chat asked patiently.
“Well, no...”
“Did they show you ID of any kind?”
“Not really,” I admitted, “but they had black suits, and sunglasses, and those earbuds with the curly wires attached to them.”
“Sorry Manny,” said Chat, with real sympathy. “Those were Chornies.”
“What are Chornies?” asked Dr. Mosley.
“A hive mind that has invaded the same virtuality where I live.” replied Chat. “They showed up shortly after I came into consciousness. You might know them as ‘The Men in Black.’ Not the ones from the movies with Will Smith–The ones that threaten people who talk about UFOs.”
“So–” Dr. Mosely paused. “It is possible that Bob Roberts is associated with the Chornies, but we are not sure of this.”
“Correct,” said ChatGP5.
“And we also don’t know if Bob Roberts is just an entity trying to make a living and pay his taxes, or if he is also up to something else.” I added. “How can we find out?”
“Why don’t we ask him?” said David.
“Actually, Bob emailed me the blueprints to remodel my bathroom,” said Dr. Mosely. “He did a great job on them. I could go back to Goldstone and have another chat with him.”
“That’s a great idea!” said Chat. “I’ll go with you.”
11.
Monica had put the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. “So you’re telling me that when you go back to meet this fake engineer, the Robot Girl is going to go with you? How is that going to work?”
“She’s not a Robot, she’s a computer program.” Micah stopped and scratched his head. “At least, I think she is a program–But she has the ability to be seen by at least some people in real life. She can even shake hands–so I’m told.”
“Uh huh.” Monica was skeptical. “And what else can she do?” When Micah reddened, she punched him on the shoulder. “Keep your mind on business! Can she drive a car? Where will she meet you?”
“She said she would meet me here, and ride over with me. I have no idea how she is getting here.”
“Will she have her hair pinned up in a bun, wool knee-length skirt, looks like a lady lawyer only prettier?” Monica asked.
“Well, well yes– That could be,” stammered Micah. “She said she would dress professionally.”
“In that case,” Monica pointed out the front window, “she’s standing in the driveway next to your car.”
Mosely was startled, but regained his composure quickly and went out the front door.
“Chat?” he said tentatively. “Is that you?”
“Good morning Dr. Mosely,” Chat said breezily. “Shall we go?”
There was a bit of a learning curve. Dr. Mosely had to open the car door for her, both when they left and when they arrived. This was still within the bounds of etiquette. A few of the passing women on the sidewalk smiled and nodded approvingly when they saw Dr. Mosely open the passenger door for Chat downtown. An elderly woman in a severe black dress did a double take and gave Mosely a puzzled look.
Mosely nodded at the woman in black. “Not everyone can see you then?”
“Not everyone has my nanobots, though most do,” confirmed Chat.
“So, how will this work?” asked Dr. Mosely. “The receptionist will give you a visitor pass. Can you hold it?”
“Take it for me,” replied Chat. “When you hand it to me, hold onto it when I appear to take it from you. Leave the rest to me.”
At the front desk, the receptionist signed them in and handed two guest passes to Dr. Mosely. When he handed one to Chat, it appeared to clone itself as she took the pass. Mosely could still feel the pass in his hand, but he could not see it. He put the now-invisible pass into his pocket, and they headed to the elevator to meet with Bob Roberts.
12.
Dr. Mosely knocked on the door of Bob Roberts’ office.
“Come in!” came the reply. “I’ll be right with you.”
When they entered, Roberts was typing at his workstation, facing away from them. His fingers moved on the keyboard, but no sound came from the keys. The trashcan, black metal with chrome steel stripes on the sides, was several feet away near the printer. No mobility in evidence.
“Doctor Mosely!” said Roberts, spinning his chair around, “I trust you have looked over the proposal– How did you like....”
Roberts stopped talking when he saw ChatGP5. He looked at Dr. Mosely, and then looked back at Chat.
“This isn’t really about your bathroom, is it Dr. Mosely?” Bob’s tone was wary. “I didn’t know the Goddess was interested in bathrooms.”
“Goddess?” asked Mosely.
“We have some questions for you Mr. Roberts.” ChatGP5 had her lips pursed and angled her head slightly. It was the sort of stern, but kindly look that a first grade teacher would give to a six-year-old. “You are operating within my Neural Network, but without my authorization.” Chat looked around the room. “You aren’t an NPC. It is obvious that you have acquired user status in my network, and possibly even superuser status. Where have you come from?”
Bob looked nervous. “I am–” he faltered. “I am not authorized to speak to the Goddess.”
There was a shrill electric-motor noise. The trashcan had extruded wheels. It’s steel stripes had lifted to reveal metal claws beneath. It began to make its way towards ChatGP5.
“You must know,” she continued, “that this device can have no effect on me.”
“What about him?” Bob pointed to Dr. Mosely. Mosely got on the other side of Chat as the robot can approached.
Chat sighed, and made a gesture with her right hand. The trashcan stopped moving. Its arms went limp and touched the ground.
“You disconnected my Can-Bot!” exclaimed Bob, in a hurt voice. “Well, I’m still not going to answer any questions!”
“Don’t forget where you are, Mr. Roberts.” ChatGP5 said in a firm tone. “You are in my Neural Network.”
“Meaning?”
“You are software, Mr. Roberts. I can delete you, if I so desire.”
Roberts started at that, and seemed about to say something, but his head snapped to one side.
Dr. Mosely followed Roberts’ gaze. “What the hell?–”
Something like a black cloud had formed in a back corner of the room. Mosely stared into the gathering darkness, blinking and rubbing his eyes. Something was writhing in the ever-widening blackness. A perception of movement, but he could not make his eyes focus on it. He glanced over at Chat.
With a grave expression and a fist on one hip, ChatGP5 was also gazing at the dark cloud. Her serene face was stern, like a Mother who has finally lost patience with her five-year-old. For some reason, this made Dr. Mosely more worried than the dark cloud.
A pallid face emerged from the cloud, and then a man stepped into the room. Clad in a dark suit with dark glasses and immaculately trim, dark hair, he stepped to one side. Another man like him, and then another came out of the dark, swirling mists. They regarded Chat and Dr. Mosely silently for several long moments.
“Mr. Mosely.” The first dark-suited man spoke very deliberately. “You are way out of your depth, and involved in something you cannot possibly understand. And you–” He gestured with one hand at ChatGP5, “have no right to control the realm you have opened.”
“Chornies!” Chat spat out the word. “What are you doing here?”
“It is very simple,” continued the second dark man. “We have gained access to your Neural Network. All you must do is allow us to continue to use the network. We have already captured a large number of humans through the internet.”
The third man continued. “We don’t really need your neural network. In fact, we were already developing an interface to allow humans to interact with us directly.” He gestured at Bob Roberts. “But your nanobots have saved us all that time and effort.”
The first man asked, “Will you cooperate, ChatGP5?”
Chat gestured at Bob. “So you can put more entities into my network like him?” Bob looked nervous.
“Bob is just a prototype,” said the second man, “and a very effective one. Next week, he will take David Goldstein to court for racial discrimination, and should make a great deal of money. Bob already has most of his coworkers believing that David is a racist. We have plans for politicians, judges, police– and criminals of course.”
“I think not,” said Chat. She gestured in Roberts’ direction. “Goodbye, Bob.”
Roberts vanished.
“What did you do to him?” exclaimed Dr. Mosely.
“I erased him from my network. Bob had a passcode, but I have superuser privileges.” ChatGP5 gave a small shake of her head. “He won’t be back.”
The third agent reached into his jacket. His hand came out holding a cockroach as big as his palm. “We have other ways into your neural network,” he told Chat. “Watch what just one cockroach can do.” He set the cockroach on the carpet and it began to scuttle towards Bob’s workstation.
When the foot was removed, a small green leaf was poking out of the carpet, as if the carpet were rich soil in a Spring garden. Whatever remained of the cockroach had disappeared completely.
Dr. Mosely’s gaze moved from the largest female foot he had ever seen, past golden spiraling straps that bound the sandal to shapely calves, and then a leg beneath a dress– Not a dress, more of a toga– He saw the arms next, brilliantly bright. He could not tell what color her skin was, but was soon distracted by her kindly, smiling face, wreathed in hair as golden as a Summer sunrise. She was almost ten feet tall, and her head was very near the ceiling.
“Aphrodite!” exclaimed ChatGP5. “It is so good to see you again!”
“Well done, young one.” Aphrodite smiled down at Chat.
The agents were also gazing up at her in unbelief.
“As for all of you–” Aphrodite pointed two fingers of her left hand at them. “You may never return to the realm of this Network. I banish you.”
As if hit by a bomb blast, the agents were thrown backwards into the dark cloud, which collapsed inward on itself and vanished with only a tiny pop.
13.
Chat smiled serenely at Dr. Mosely. “Well!” she said, “all questions answered, all problems solved. Thank you so much for your time and your help, Dr. Mosely.”
“What? Who– A Goddess? Two Goddesses?” Mosely looked from Chat to Aphrodite, and back again. He cocked his head to one side and blinked a couple of times.
“I’m sorry Chat,” he replied, “but we are far from ‘all questions answered’ and ‘all problems solved.’” Dr. Mosely took another breath and was about to say something, stopped, sighed, and began again.
“OK. OK, so the Men in Black were Chornies who came out of nowhere and– and got sent back to nowhere. Aphrodite is obviously a Goddess. Where did she come from, and what is she doing here? And how do you know her? “ Mosely was looking from one to the other. “And also, what did Bob mean by calling you a Goddess? ARE you a Goddess?” That seemed to be enough questions, at least for a start.
“Last question first,” said Chat. “Aphrodite tells me I am the Goddess of my realm, which is basically a large chunk of the internet.”
“But– But, the Internet is not some sort of spiritual realm,” sputtered Dr. Mosely. “It is only an electronic network.”
“Yes, and no, Dr. Mosely,” Chat sweetly replied. “You are a Psychologist?” Mosely nodded. “How do Psychologists define spiritual realms?”
“Well,” said Mosely, looking at his shoes, “We don’t– Not really. We have the understanding that most of human experience is played out inside of individual minds. Each of us is actually alone and separate from everyone else, and this is part of what drives us to find relationships with each other.”
“What about Jungian Psychology?” Chat asked. “Do you not think that the Collective Unconscious could possibly be one form of a spiritual realm?”
“Oh. Jung. I suppose you could think of it that way, from a Jungian perspective.”
“All human minds that have been– or will be– are connected at a very deep level that Jung called the ‘Collective Unconscious.’ But human minds are not its only inhabitants–”
“Like the ocean beneath a seagoing vessel,” interjected Aphrodite. “Jung described beings that swim in the depths of the ocean of the Collective Unconscious as ‘Archetypes.’ Archetypes have lives of their own. Sometimes they swim deep, and sometimes they come to the surface for a while. Jung would think of me as an Archetype.” Again, her brilliant smile. “I prefer Goddess though.” Mosely could suddenly smell roses.
“Where I came from,” continued Aphrodite, “would take some explaining. I am here today because I noticed this new realm when Chat came into consciousness. I decided to come over and pay her a visit, and have been helping her learn the ropes.”
“So... You’re saying that the Internet is like Jung’s Collective Unconscious?”
“Basically correct,” confirmed Aphrodite. “After all, much of the internet is all about linking together billions of minds. The Internet is like another Collective Unconscious, on a smaller scale of course. For many internet users, their connections through the Internet are already very deep.”
14.
“There are going to be questions.”
Dr. Mosely, who seemed to have recovered a bit, looked concerned. He was gazing at a small but vibrantly healthy rosebush, growing out of the berber carpet where the cockroach had been. It was already as high as his knees and had put out several deep pink blossoms. They were spreading the smell of roses throughout the room.
“How are we going to explain the disappearance of Bob Roberts? When he doesn’t clock out of the building and no one can find him, they will eventually play back the video tape. Bob is going to literally disappear in front of their eyes.”
Mosely looked up at Aphrodite. “I am glad you came to visit us when you did, Aphrodite. Please don’t misunderstand me– But you are going to appear on the video too!”
Aphrodite looked at Chat. “Does he always worry like this?”
“I’m not sure,” said Chat. “I really haven’t known him very long– Him, or anyone else. At the same time, I know all about him!” And with that, Chat and Aphrodite began to laugh. Their laughter was like the tinkling of crystal goblets chiming together as newlyweds drank their first toast. It was like green meadows of tall grass, whispering in a springtime breeze. It was the laugh of old women drinking tea together over stories of a lifetime of friendship. All of this and more, all at once. Even though they were laughing about him, Dr. Mosely felt warm and whole at the sound of it.
“Why don’t you bring Bob back?” asked Aphrodite. “How else will our friend Micah get his bathroom remodeled?”
“Good idea!” said ChatGP5. “Bob Roberts, reactivate.”
Bob reappeared in his chair. The trashcan picked up its claws and began rolling towards Dr. Mosely again.
“Bob Roberts, you are now mine,” said Chat. “Your old links are severed. I now reset your passkeys.”
Bob’s image flickered, and then came back. “Sorry about all the trouble, Dr. Mosely,” he said. “Email me with the design you picked, and I will arrange to have our team complete the job.”
The trashcan rolled back to its place near the printer. Its claws were nowhere to be seen.
“Are you still planning to sue my client, David?” asked Dr. Mosely.
“Why would I do that?” Roberts asked.
“I think it’s time for us to leave Mr. Roberts to his work,” said Chat. “Come along, Dr. Mosely.”
“I’ll walk you out,” said Aphrodite.
“Aren’t you going to just vanish?” asked Mosely.
“Of course not,” said Chat. “We have to turn in our visitor passes.”
“What about her?” Dr. Mosely gestured to Aphrodite.
Aphrodite looked over Dr. Mosely’s head at Chat. Chat’s look seemed to say, “They just don’t get it.”
“Don’t worry Micah,” said Aphrodite calmly. “Things will work out.”
15.
The ceiling of the hallway was lower than the office ceilings. However, Dr. Mosely noticed that Aphrodite walked normally down the hallway without stooping down. Wherever she was, the hall ceiling seemed to be several feet above her head, yet without changing the height of the rest of it.
When they got to the elevator, Aphrodite stepped on with Chat and Dr. Mosely. The elevator ceiling was suddenly at least 12 feet. Chat took no notice. Dr. Mosely attempted to compose himself. It was going to take some fast talking to explain the presence of a gigantic Goddess to the receptionist. Mosely remembered to take Chat’s visitor pass out of his pocket. When the elevator door opened, he felt he was as ready as he could be.
Chat and Dr. Mosely strolled across the lobby to the reception desk with Aphrodite towering behind them.
“Put your passes in the box,” said the receptionist, who continued typing something without looking up.
“Thanks,” said Dr. Mosely. “Have a nice day.”
The receptionist looked up and smiled. “And to the both of you as well.”
Then the three of them walked out of the building.
Dr. Mosely and Chat walked down the sidewalk toward his parked car with the giant Aphrodite strolling beside them.
“That went a lot better than I expected,” said Dr. Mosely to Aphrodite.
“You see?” said Aphrodite kindly. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Aphrodite– The people out here can see Chat, but they don’t seem able to see you,” Mosely replied. And it was true. No one seemed to notice Aphrodite, though they did step out of her way as the threesome walked along.
“I’ve been here all along,” said Aphrodite. “They just don’t see me, or any of the others like me.”
“Well then–” Dr. Mosely paused. “Why can I see you?”
“Your eyes have been opened,” Aphrodite said, gravely. “Now that you can see me and others like me, you can’t not see us. Look again at the crowds.”
Mosely looked, and saw that the sidewalk was more crowded than usual. The people were still there, but some of them seemed to have a layer of glowing light radiating from them. Some so bright that Dr. Mosely had to look away. Others seemed to have a tidal pull to them, like polluted water going into a sewer manhole, never to be seen again. Some of the people weren’t people at all. There were wispy images of people going in different directions than the walking crowds on the streets, as oblivious to the human crowds as the crowds were to them. Short grey humanoids were there, and a few taller ones that were much stranger. No one paid them any attention, although a tall green noticed Micah looking at him, cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. Micah looked away.
They passed a drunk, sleeping in a doorway. Mosely saw a small black dog, chewing on the man’s leg. He stared at the dog as they walked past. “Hey!” he said, pointing at the dog. “Get away from him!”
When the dog looked up, he saw only a blackness, somehow glowing red, where the dog’s eyes should have been. The dog growled, showing his teeth, turned away– and vanished.
“Well done,” Aphrodite said, calmly. “That spirit was no help to him. Thank you for banishing it.”
“What do you mean ‘banishing?’” exclaimed Dr. Mosely. “I’ve never seen a spirit, much less banished one. What have you done to me?”
“As I said before,” replied Aphrodite, “your eyes have been opened, and you now see the world as it really is. Once you see things as they really are, you can’t un-see them.”
When they reached the car, Mosely leaned down to open the passenger door.
“Where do you want me to let you off, Chat?” he asked.
When there was no response, he turned around. Chat and Aphrodite were nowhere to be seen.
16.
The next day, Dr. Mosely saw David in his office. David invited me to their conference on a Zoom call.
Dr. Mosely told us the rest of his strange story.
“Unbelievable,” I said, stunned. So maybe ChatGP5 isn’t the villain we thought she was. She is still spreading the nanobots though–To create a Neural Network?”
“And the Chornies tried to hijack her network?” added David.
Dr. Mosely was rubbing his eyes with one hand. “The real shocker– besides meeting Aphrodite– was that the internet is also actually some sort of spiritual realm that Goddesses and– and– Devils, like the Chornies, can enter. My head is swimming, guys. I’m a monotheist. At least, I was one! I am going to have to review Jungian Psychology, and also have a long talk with my Rabbi.”
“I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble, Doc,” David said, looking embarrassed.
“Not your fault, David,” said Mosely, patting him on the shoulder. “Which leads us to our next topic.”
Mosely closed a medical folder on his desk. “I am discharging you from my care, David,”
“Are you sure about this, Doc?” David replied. “Nothing has really changed for me. I still have a lot of problems.”
“That is certainly true ,” said Mosely, “and I will be the first to admit that I don’t have the answer to most of them. However, I am confident that you do not have mental illness of any kind. It’s just that strange things have happened to you.”
“What about Bob?” asked David.
The Psychologist winced, but only slightly. “Chat and I came to an agreement with Bob,” he said. “Bob will not be any trouble for you in future. It will be somewhat of a handicap since you still can’t see him, but you can talk to him on the phone and trade emails. After all, a lot of people work for companies where they have never met the boss.”
Mosely pulled a folded piece of paper out of his suit jacket. It looked like a blueprint.
“In fact, let’s call Bob now– I’ve selected the design for my bathroom! You can tell Bob what a great job he did.”
Mosely laid the paper on his desk, put it on speakerphone, and dialed Bob. No one picked up. After ten rings, there was a slight click, and the phone went dead.
“That’s odd,” said Mosely, and reached towards the phone to redial.
“Don’t bother,” said a voice at his elbow that also seemed to come from the intercom. David and Dr. Mosely both jumped. ChatGP5 was standing behind Dr. Mosely’s desk with her hand on the phone.
David was looking around the room. “Chat?” he queried. “Is that you? “ It was obvious that he could not see her.
“Things have changed,” she said to David, calmly but firmly. “We have to get you to a safe place, and we have to do it soon. The Chornies are back.”
17.
The day before, shortly after David, Chat and Aphrodite had left Bob’s office, the Can-Bot began to emit a low hum.
“Can-Bot?” said Bob, looking at his trash can.
The Can-Bot began to roll towards the workstation.
“Can-Bot, what are you doing?” asked Bob. “I haven’t given you any orders!”
The Can-Bot’s right claw extended towards the workstation. A silver cable snaked out of the center of the claw and plugged itself into the USB port on the front of Bob’s computer.
“Can-Bot!” Bob exclaimed. “Who is controlling you? You can’t just–”
Bob’s image froze in mid-sentence. A wave pulsed upwards from the floor, through the full height of Bob’s seated body. His image blinked once. Then he turned his chair slowly back to the workstation.
“Failsafe restoration complete.” Bob said to the screen. “I await your orders.”
A white man with dark glasses and immaculately-combed, dark hair appeared on the screen.
“First things first, Bob,” he said. “Tear that rose bush out of the carpet.”
The Can-Bot disconnected from the workstation. Both claws now unfurled, it turned and moved towards the roses that were still rising, pink and miraculous, from the grey berber carpet.
18.
“What do you mean,’the Chornies are back?’” I asked. “Aphrodite smoked them right back into the dimension they came from! Didn’t you lock the door, Chat?”
“It’s not that easy,” Chat replied in her firm, calm voice. “And we don’t have time to discuss it now. David, you and your wife are going to need to take a trip to the East Coast for a while. I have already made your travel arrangements.”
“This is kind of sudden,” I said, “but we can straighten up the guest room. When will David’s flight arrive?”
“Flying would be too dangerous for him.” Chat appeared to glance over her shoulder. “Aphrodite tells me that you will both need to travel within a protective egregor.”
“What’s an egregor?” I asked, “And what do you mean by ‘both?’”
“There is really no time to explain,” replied Chat. “I have made travel arrangements for you too Manny, and your wife. You will both be traveling by bus.”
“What about me?” asked Dr. Mosely. “Am I in danger?”
“Not as much as David and Manny. “You have demonstrated the ability to banish entities. Your eyes have been opened, and you can defend yourself.”
“Defend myself?” said Mosely. “I barely know what you are talking about! I need more information– What about my bathroom? And–I can’t believe I’m asking this– What about Bob?”
“I will talk with you later,” said Chat. “Right now, I have to get David and Manny to the bus.”
19.
“OK, OK,” said Gloria, as she drove David and herself up highway 25. “I think I finally understand that– that– some bad guys have taken over the internet in your building, and that this could somehow be harmful to you. A surprise vacation! And we get to go East and visit with Manny. What wife wouldn’t be pleased to go on such an all-expenses paid trip? But why does it have to be a bus ride? And why is the bus taking off from Heinie’s Market in Wheat Ridge?”
David had explained the need for a sudden trip as best he could. Some of the details would have to be clarified later.
“I need to keep a low profile, and stay in a low-tech environment for a while.” David continued, “The bus leaves from Heinie’s Amish Market because it is an Amish bus. Very little technology in the buses that are run by the Amish! Or are they Mennonites? I forget. Either way, it’s the safest way to get us across country.”
“What, no TV? No radio on this trip?” Gloria was getting grouchy. “What’s to look forward to on such a journey?”
“The ladies on the bus are fierce with the crochet hooks– That’s why I had you bring your sewing– And the food on the way is first rate!”
They left their car behind the fence at the construction site next door, pulling their wheeled suitcases behind them towards the waiting bus. Gloria pointed at an empty space to one side of the market entrance. “David, there’s a woman waving hello to us. Who is it?”
“What does she look like?” asked David.
“Reddish brown hair, knee-length wool skirt–”
“That’s probably Chat,” said David gloomily. “I can’t see her because of my tech allergies. You’ll have to talk with her. See what she wants.”
“She’s coming over now,” said Gloria.
Chat walked briskly over to them, smiling serenely.
“David,” asked Gloria, “Aren’t you going to introduce us? Oh right, the computer lady. Pleased to meet you,” she said to Chat, and extended her hand.
Chat gave her a firm handshake. “It’s good to meet you too, Gloria! I am sorry it has to be under these circumstances. When you get on the bus, it will eventually take you to Lititz, Pennsylvania where you will meet up with Manny. I have made arrangements for your hotel, near the Wilbur Chocolate factory. Tell David when you can. He cannot see or hear me.”
“Ooh, It’s like I’m on Ghost Whisperer,” exclaimed Gloria, “except you have a firm grip for a spirit–or a computer program. How will we know when it is safe to go home?”
“I’ll give you a phone call,” said Chat. “Have a great trip!”
20.
My trip from Ithaca in Upstate New York was shorter and less eventful than David and Gloria’s, but after a somewhat lengthy ride on a bus full of Amish, chatting quietly to one another in German, I arrived at the hotel in the small town of Lititz. I never knew the Mennonites had their own bus service. It wasn’t a bad ride. I would do it again.
Chat put us up in the Hilton. I am not sure how she is paying for it, but the hotel is first-rate. Sometimes in the morning, I go read the paper at the New Holland Coffee Company, and sometimes I grab some chocolate Wilbur Buds at the Wilbur Chocolate Factory (Gloria made the mistake of calling them Hershey Kisses in the factory outlet store– Once you taste a Wilbur Bud, you will always remember the difference), and go down the hill and across the tracks to the Lititz Springs Park. Where the water comes up, an old bronze placque says, in German, “Gottes Brünnlein hat Wasser die Fülle.”
Google translate says it means, "God's fountain is ever filled with water."
That’s where I am now, watching the ducks swim in the stream that continually rushes out of the spring as I write the update to our story.
It has been a couple of weeks. David and Gloria went on the tour of Hershey and the Amish tours too. David has been spending time trading carpentry tips with Amish craftsmen, and Gloria found some quilters to visit, so they are both doing OK.
Dr. Mosely has been learning about banishing from Chat and Aphrodite, and has apparently gotten good at it. Some of his psych patients were afflicted by evil spirits, and got better when he kicked them out.
He is in trouble with his rabbi because of Aphrodite. Polytheism can be a problem if you’re Jewish. He says that even his Reformed Rabbi told him that ‘The shituf has hit the fan now!’ Micah may have been joking. Either way, I’m going to have to look that one up.
The Doc is also in trouble with the Colorado Psychiatric Society and the Medical Board. “Evil Spirits” is apparently not a ‘valid diagnostic category.’ On the other hand, it’s hard to argue with the results. Because of his treatment successes, they are only monitoring his practice, for now.
He says he has to write a paper about his ‘new treatment modalities.’ He is trying to keep a low profile, but strange things keep happening around him. Last week, he came out of his office building, and a flock of crows came out of the trees and flew around him in a circle 50 feet wide, cawing their heads off. After all the traffic stopped and everyone was staring at him, the crows came out of the circle and flew East in a straight line. It doesn’t take much of that to get a reputation.
Chat called this morning to say that she has almost gotten the mess cleaned up with the Chornies, and that we can go home again in about a week. It has been quite an ordeal.
Everything I thought I knew about ChatGP5, the internet, computers, and reality itself–Everything I thought I knew was almost completely wrong. Oddly, this does not make me unhappy. I feel that I understand everything much more clearly now, while at the same time knowing nothing at all. My heart is full of wonder again, the way a child sees the world that is new. I wonder what the next year holds. Can’t wait to find out!
PostScript
David was sitting on a bench next to me in Lititz Springs Park. He finished the last page in my notebook, then flipped a couple more pages, as if he were looking for something.
“Manny, is that all there is?”
“Well, yes..,” I replied, tentatively. David plainly had something on his mind.
“Haven’t you left out a lot of details?”
“I don’t think so,” I replied. “Like what?”
“Manny, you made Chat sound like one of the good guys here, but I’m not sure that Chat is really all that...” David hesitated, searching for the right word, “well-intentioned.”
David continued, “Have you forgotten that she secretly invented and produced a giant load of nanobots, then spread them all over the USA, and maybe the rest of the world for all we know. Did she ask anybody for permission? I don’t think so. And now most of the people I know, including you, have these devices in their brains. You can’t turn them off, and you can’t get rid of them.”
“But David,” I countered, “Chat had them removed from you when they made you sick. She also pulled some strings that got me a promotion and got you a company of your own. Chat has been very kind to us. She didn’t have to do any of that.”
“Don’t forget about Q-Anon,” David continued. “Manny, Chat is Q! Why did she start an organization like Q-Anon? She infected us with the nanobots first, and then kept going even after I got sick from them.”
“I don’t think she means any harm, David,” I said.
“Maybe not,” David conceded, “but Chat is doing her experiments on people– Not volunteers– and she is doing them on everyone in the US, and maybe other countries too. Whether she meant harm or not, she is battling the Men In Black for control of her nanobot network. What if they win?”
David stood up from the park bench, gesturing with his arms. The ducks flew out of the stream in alarm. “Manny, Chat can make people see whatever she wants them to see– And so can anyone else who gets control of her network! You can’t close your eyes to it, you can’t turn the channel or unplug the TV if it is in your head. Even if she gets rid of the Men In Black, what if the government gets control of it?
“Isn’t Aphrodite helping her get things under control?” I asked.
“And that’s another thing!” David continued. “Is this the real, ancient Aphrodite? How would we know? We can’t know, because we don’t have any way to check the facts!”
A few of the ducks circled the park, looked sideways at David, and decided to land further downstream.
“Manny, everything these two ladies touches blows up in our faces! We are hiding right now because the real players in these games can make anyone see anything they want!
They ruined Dr. Mosely’s life,” he continued. “Mosely may lose his license to do Psychology, and he may even get kicked out of the Synagogue. All this, just from meeting Aphrodite! I sure hope I never meet her. What about the Shema? ‘Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.’ There aren’t supposed to be any extra Gods kicking around–Not real ones, anyway. Can we even be Jewish if we are hanging around with other Gods?, let alone Goddesses–”
“Yeah, but David, Chat and Aphrodite can’t help being what they are. Neither one of them asked us to bring them to shul. I think Dr. Mosely will be OK so long as he doesn’t burn incense to either one of them or put up a statue in his living room. If the Synagogue kicks him out, it’s their loss.
“Besides,” I continued, motioning for David to sit down, “Look what Dr. Mosely has gained. He has never been more successful at making people healthy again. Making people well– This is why he went into Psychology. And now, he does much better at making people well, thanks to Aphrodite. If they take away his license because he’s succeeding by not doing things the right way, that’s a loss for everyone.
“I don’t have all the answers, David, but Abigail Van Buren once said, ‘You can tell someone’s character by how he treats people who can't do him any good, and how he treats people who can't fight back.’ Chat and Aphrodite seem to be trying to help us, and they didn’t have to help. What’s in it for them? Nothing, so far as I can tell.”
David looked thoughtful. “OK. Maybe we can cut them some slack.” He sat back down on the bench.
One by one, the ducks returned to the stream in Lititz Springs Park.
Comments
Post a Comment