A Beautiful New World—A Short Story on Brain-Computer Interfaces
It was the year 2035.
The first three generations of neuroMingles had successively enhanced our communal intelligence — as many as ten-thousand brains could be connected via the internet to a single computation bus. As a result, obscure nuggets of wisdom and knowledge were brought together and entirely new industries were created. For instance, Peace, Inc.’s sole mission was to minimize the probability of existential calamities — famine, interplanetary war, nuclear holocaust, etc. Companies like Eternal and Zardoz were making breakthroughs in the quest for immortality. Though the third generation of neuroMingles enhanced humankind’s analytical and computational abilities, it could not decipher empathy.
For centuries, most people could only truly feel connected to about 150 fellow human-beings — a limit imposed by our biology a.k.a. Dunbar’s number. Our ability to turn a blind eye had, in part, ensured our survival. Ignorance was bliss. All that changed when X Corp. unveiled its fourth generation neuroMingle, nM4. A first of its kind, this BCI (brain-computer-interface) device had unprecedented access to emotions. When synced-up with a pair of AR (augmented reality) glasses, the nM4 transformed a mundane news update into a gut-wrenching roller coaster. It was no longer possible to be indifferent to the pain and suffering of others. As psychologists grappled with the ramifications of nM4, there was an unprecedented spike in the number of cases of depression and mania. The world was reeling with empathy and introspection.
Twenty miles south of Gainesville, Pilonique tended to her family’s farm. After a dreary long day, she was finally trudging back home. She must have been about a hundred yards away, when she spotted the package delivered by the doorstep. Her eyes twinkled with anticipation, and she instinctively hastened her pace. Her order of twelve dozen nM4s had finally arrived. She washed her hands and face, had a quick bite, collected her toolbox and the package, and headed towards the animal pen. Mr. Uno, the talking parrot, perched on her shoulder and insisted on coming along. Pilonique didn’t mind. It would be a long night, and they could both use some company.
Though she had dropped out of school to support the family business, Pilonique was an engineering savant. Outside the animal pen, she had set up a small laboratory, which housed an array of knickknacks — wires, soldering station, microscope, circuit-boards, valves, motors, oscilloscope, 3D printer, workbench, a few chairs, and a futon. Every now and then, she would withdraw to her sanctum and spend hours pondering, toying, building, and disassembling. It was here that her creativity took wing and she connected with her inner self. A few years ago, she had managed to MacGyver a few first-generation nM1 neuroMingles and pair them up with chickens. She had leased out their brains over the internet for a few bitcoins, though it wasn’t about the money. “Time for an upgrade,” she thought, as she set the package and toolbox on the workbench.
Pilonique started working on the nM4s, one at a time. She would cautiously place each nM4 under the microscope, secure it with a pair of clips, and carefully reengineer it. She would pry open the casing, use a pair of tweezers and soldering iron to reconfigure the optoelectronic circuit, and attach the nM4s to custom neckbands she had 3D printed the previous week. Every now and then she would draw back from the microscope to stretch, and think the next few steps out loud. Her nonjudgmental companion would often echo back her thoughts. After five long grueling hours, she had run through all the nM4s. It was past 10PM when she finally turned off the microscope light, collected all the nM4s on a tray, and proceeded into the pen.
Pilonique’s family owned about a hundred chicken, a dozen goats, and an equal number of lambs. One by one, Pilonique installed the nM4s onto all the denizens of the animal pen. The nM4s clasped snugly around their neck. She was quite pleased with her handiwork. It was past midnight by the time she was done. She glanced at the tray, which still had a few unused nM4s. In a moment of epiphany, or groggy indecision, or maybe just for kicks, she slipped a nM4 onto Mr. Uno. Pilonique glanced across the pen. Perhaps she perceived some patterns emerging from the apparent disorder. Perhaps some animals were constellating into clusters of three, four, or five. Perhaps she was hallucinating and it was time to call it a night. Pilonique dragged herself back to the laboratory and slumped onto the futon.
It wasn’t until 9:00am that Pilonique woke up. Her back felt a bit sore from the long hours she had put in the day before. When she stepped into the pen, her jaw-dropped and her eyes nearly popped out of the sockets. The chickens stood in perfect order — ten rows and ten columns. The goats stood behind the chickens in a single row. The lambs formed a neat row at the very front of the regiment. Mr. Uno perched in attention on the seventh lamb from the left. He said, “We are not food or property. We are not a means to your ends. We are feeling, breathing, thinking, and living beings. We love our children, family and community. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that everyone with a face, though not created equal in strength and intelligence, is endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. Welcome to a beautiful new world.”
