Strange shadows on you tend …
I must have gone back to bed, for I woke again, upright, my hair down, my hand clutching the bed curtain.
I had dreamed. Had I dreamed?
I saw the pale student of unhallowed arts kneeling beside the thing he had put together. I saw the hideous phantom of a man stretched out, and then, on the working of some powerful engine, show signs of life, and stir with an uneasy, half-vital motion.
Such success would terrify the artist; he would rush away from his odious handiwork, horror-stricken. He would hope that, left to itself, the slight spark of life which he had communicated would fade; that the thing which had received such imperfect animation would subside into dead matter, and he might sleep in the belief that the silence of the grave would quench forever the transient existence of the hideous corpse which he had looked upon as the cradle of life. He sleeps, but he is awakened; he opens his eyes, behold, the horrid thing stands at his bedside, opening his curtains, and looking on him with yellow, watery, but speculative eyes.
I opened mine in terror.
On the morrow I announced that I had thought of a story.
Story: a series of connected events, real or imagined. Imagined or real.
Imagined
And
Real
Reality bends in the heat.
I’m looking through a shimmer of heat at buildings whose solid certainties vibrate like sound waves.
The plane is landing. There’s a billboard:
Welcome to Memphis, Tennessee.
I’m here for the global Tec-X-Po on Robotics.
Name?
Ry Shelley.
Exhibitor? Demonstrator? Purchaser?
Press.
Yes, I have you here, Mr Shelley.
It’s Dr Shelley. The Wellcome Trust.
You’re a doctor?
I am. I’m here to consider how robots will affect our mental and physical health.
That is a good question, Dr Shelley. And let’s not forget the Soul.
I’m not sure that’s my area …
We all have a Soul. Hallelujah. Now, who are you here to interview?
Ron Lord.
(Short pause while the database finds Ron Lord.)
Yes. Here he is. Exhibitor Class A. Mr Lord will be waiting for you at the Adult Futures Suite. Here is a map. My name is Claire. I am your point of contact today.
Claire was tall, black, beautiful, well-dressed in a tailored dark green skirt and pale green silk shirt. I felt glad that she was my point of contact today.
Claire wrote out my name-badge with a brisk, manicured hand. Handwriting – a strangely old-fashioned and touching method of identification at a futuristic tech expo.
Claire – excuse me – my name – not Ryan, just Ry.
I apologise, Dr Shelley, I am not familiar with English names – and you are English?
Yes, I am.
Cute accent. (I smile. She smiles.)
Is this your first time in Memphis?
Yes, it is.
You like BB King? Johnny Cash? And THE King?
Martin Luther King?
Well, sir, I was talking about Elvis – but now you bring it to my attention, we do seem to have a lotta Kings here – maybe something about calling this city Memphis – I guess if you name a place after the capital of Egypt, you gonna see some pharaohs – uh-huh?
Naming is power, I say to her.
It sure is. Adam’s task in the Garden of Eden.
Yes, indeed, to name everything after its kind. Sexbot …
Pardon me, sir?
Do you think Adam would have thought of that? Dog, cat, snake, fig tree, sexbot?
I am thankful he didn’t have to, Dr Shelley.
Yes, I am sure you are right. So tell me, Claire, why did they call this place Memphis?
You mean back in 1819? When it was founded?
As she speaks I see in my mind a young woman looking out of a sodden window across the lake.
I say to Claire, Yes. 1819. Frankenstein was a year old.
She frowns. I am not following you, sir.
The novel Frankenstein – it was published in 1818.
The guy with the bolt through his neck?
More or less …
I saw the TV show.
It’s why we are here today. (There was a look of confusion on Claire’s face as I said this, so I explained.) I don’t mean existentially Why We Are Here Today – I mean why the Tec-X-Po is here. In Memphis. It’s the kind of thing organisers like; a tie-in between a city and an idea. Memphis and Frankenstein are both two hundred years old.
Your point?
Tech. AI. Artificial Intelligence. Frankenstein was a vision of how life might be created – the first non-human intelligence.
What about angels? (Claire looks at me, serious and certain. I hesitate … What is she saying?)
Angels?
That’s right. Angels are non-human intelligence.
Oh, I see. I meant the first non-human intelligence created by a human.
I have been visited by an angel, Dr Shelley.
That’s wonderful, Claire.
I don’t hold with Man playing God.
I understand. I hope I haven’t offended you, Claire?
She shook her head of shiny hair and pointed to the map of the city. You asked me why they called it Memphis, back in 1819 – and the answer is because we are on a river – the Mississippi – and the old Memphis was on the River Nile – you seen Elizabeth Taylor playing Cleopatra?
Yes, I have.
You
