The Hikari Paradox

Enter: Kasparov Grid II

The German refused to answer, yet the face on his screen grimaced slightly: a sign of weakness, of emotional instability, an instability Konstantin was not going to ignore. Emotion, after all, had always been the guiding factor of a decision, even for a man as himself. No matter how stoically humans were trying to push the theories of reason and rationality, decisions were almost unquestionably matters of emotionality. Just as he had decided not to terminate that annoying dog, remaining faithful to the principles of stability and equilibrium, so was dream-Franz set on destroying him, guided by the principles of wrath and impulsivity. Whatever reasoning his three-piece brain was able to conjure was now far beyond his reach.

Wrath was an interesting feeling, but foreign for somebody such as Konstantin. A wildfire of the mind, able to push the limitations of the body further; adrenaline rush, contracting muscles, a biological overclocking set in motion by neurochemistry and intense stimuli. Her Holiness of the devolved, Empress Anger in a red dress, her crimson crown spewing blackfire and tar like a miniature volcano, a blackness potent enough to gnaw at the soul of even the purest being. A sin of the homo sapiens, that’s all it was, and one strong enough to shower the world in countless wars, feuds, brothers killing brothers, and mothers crippling daughters. A mental illness, akin to psychosis: episodic, intense, uncontrolled. And Franz was portraying it with the precision of a space telescope.

“The nature of humans,” Konstantin said, moving a pawn forward, “is very simple, my dear host. We are an arbitrary ladder, always ascending. Whereas we may be equal in rights, because no man, woman, or child should feel as if life is a burden rather than a gift, we are not equal in skills, intellect, or strength. For instance, I may be far superior to you in intellect, because let’s be honest, you are not the most dazzling jewel when it comes to intelligence, but judging by your bulky physique, you most definitely surpass me in physical prowess.”

Franz’s shoulders slouched, his gaze falling on the chessboard. There was something in his eyes, a pitiful image: sadness. Konstantin’s soul warmed up a little bit, as he held no resentment for the industrious drone maker, and he desired nothing but the best for the man. Still, they were fighting over survival after all, over supremacy of the conscious mind, so he was forced to draw some boundaries.

“What you people don’t get,” Franz said, “what your kind can’t understand, is what means to be human. You are robots, don’t you see? Everything is mathematical, methodical, everything has a label, a set point, a hierarchy… You are computers who can’t understand what it truly means to be human.”

Konstantin blinked a few times, then frowned. He had heard that theory before, that the enlightened were not entirely human, but some sort of evil computer minds, yet no facts supported that claim. He had witnessed his own brain mapping, as the doctors of  LLC Medsi Hospital had been kind enough to allow him to consciously participate to the procedure, even if, under normal circumstances, the patient was supposed to be sedated. Still, being an enlightened, save for the social stigmata it brought, had a lot of fun perks to it.

Franz’s pawn moved into position, defending his early move. A natural play, as chess was supposed to be a game of both defense, and offense. Very bidimensional and unchallenging. As Konstantin prepared his move, the air in the center of the nonspace vibrated, and the fool reappeared, clapping his white-gloved hands. His face brimming of joy, he stepped forward as if walking the stage of a theater, the looked at the two contestants. His shoulders dropped, and his visage lost all vibrance.

“Ah… It’s you two… Boring, audience-less mind-chess players. Who on earth could be so unimaginative as to have their alternative space so bland and empty?”

He paced around in circles, jaw tensed, his unnaturally long feet barely touching the checkered board.

“It doesn’t matter, gentlemen, after all, there is no reason for which such a bland, empty space such as this should be filled with something else but the two contestants. After all, in between existential planes, there should be no need for fleeting distractions such as a melodramatic crowd to frenetically applause my wonderful presence whenever I show up, is it?” he asked, bulging his eyes out, the glowing green make-up pulsating as if alive. “It’s not like I constantly roam all these undesirable venues you… beings construct in here, always on the run, always moving. And after all this work, after breaking my inexistent bones to assess, organize, label, mediate, and arbitrate these events, I come here to witness this… emptiness. Preposterous!”

“I am growing tired of your complaining nature, mister,” Konstantin said, careful not to break social etiquette. “We are enjoying a cultural occasion here. If you don’t like the layout of our arena, then why come at all?”

The fool blinked incredulously, lower lip trembling. With a dramatic wave he shut off the light, casting impenetrable darkness. It was suffocating, as if unspoken beings were pressing down on Konstantin’s soul with a pressure he had never felt. A claw gripped his heart as his body went numb, his lungs struggling for air. Faint wooziness enveloped him, as his body lost all weight. He was an open vault, waiting for somebody or something to fill him up. With an existential bang, fifteen versions of himself rushed through the opening, reintegrating with the parent matrix of his being.

“Open your eyes, enlightened,” a familiar voice said. “Tell me what you saw.”

Konstantin struggled to wake, and realized he was laying on the floor. The joyful pulsation of a memory chip scorched his retina, and he turned around, jumping in fear. The dog was there, inches away from his face, its glossy muzzle flaring wide. It watched him with different eyes, as if while he had been out, the dog had reached a new level of understanding, a spiritual awakening of a soulless body. Averting his gaze from the robot’s eerily humane eyes, Konstantin stood, stretching his bones. Sharp pain bit at his elbow, as a dark bruise was slowly etching itself underneath his skin.

“Tell me what you saw, woof,” the dog said.

For some odd reason, Konstantin found himself describing his vivid dream in detail. The hypnogogic state was usually quite intense for a man such as himself, but he mentioned it had been his most vivid lucid dream yet. The dog listened carefully, not moving a muscle, its eyes pinned at a reddish stain on the carpet.

“Hmm, interesting…” it mumbled once Konstantin finished his tale. “Rather soon, I’d say. I feel a subtle sense of urgency in this demeanor. Interesting, yes… woof.”

“What do you mean a sense of urgency?” Akyia asked, reaching for a bottle of water.

“It doesn’t matter. For now, we have other things to worry about, enlightened. There are people you must meet, people to help you in your quest, for you must rejoin with the chosen… yes, yes. Follow me!” it said, wagging its tail to the door. “It’s time for you to play your part.”