The Parable

The hologram display registered the time as thirteen hours into the day cycle. Silas ignored it. It was his hours off, lunch break. Though he didn’t eat, that’s what it was called. Had Silas belonged to a different time and place, he would have called it ‘me time’ but he was firm in his position in the space-time continuum so he called it nothing at all. Just because it didn’t have a name, didn’t mean that he didn’t know how to use it.

The small room was lit up by a big screen splashed across the far wall. He was playing Martian Homestead, a quiet game that, as the name suggested, was primarily about farming on Mars. He’d never been planet side before and so the game fascinated him. It was no where near close to real life but Silas wasn’t interested in a simulation, he was interested in a diversion. And diverted he was when the door to his cramped bunk cabin slid open.

“Not now,” said Silas, not bothering to check who it was at the door, “it’s lunch.”

“You don’t eat lunch,” said his visitor.

Grudgingly, Silas paused the game to look at his visitor. Julian was an average sized man, his hair cropped short in what had been a military style for centuries. He too was on break and was out of uniform, instead wearing a comfortable pair of pants and a tank top. He looked eerie with the red light from the game giving his pale skin an uncomfortable red flush.

“Hello Julian.” Silas turned back to his game, hoping perhaps Julian would get the message. He did not.

Instead he sat in the small chair in the corner and crossed one leg over the other. Because he was a polite android, Silas paused his game once more and said, “What’s on your mind?”

“Well,” said Julian, drawing out the word. “I was thinking about the nature of true consciousness.”

For a moment, Silas considered putting himself back on the clock, but Julian had come here as a friend. Unfortunately, he wasn’t a friend Silas particularly liked.

“And I was thinking,” continued Julian, “There’s such a unique opportunity. to study the nature of consciousness with androids. We can pinpoint when consciousness emerges from a mere facsimile!”

Julian’s eyes shone even in the dim light. Silas took a moment to gather his thoughts  before he said something terribly rude.

“I don’t think,” he said cautiously, “that experiments of that kind are particularly ethical regardless of the biological status of the participants.”

Julian didn’t even pause to consider what Silas had said. He came to Silas not for conversation but more to just have a sounding board. He said, “With back up states, any ethical concerns can be addressed. We finally have a chance to see if the Chinese box experiment is scientifically valid. We have the unparalleled opportunity to watch things fundamentally different from us move through the world and face the same challenges as us and be able to communicate with us about them.”

At this point, Silas made a decision. “I will not be your parable for the human experience.”

Julian looked hurt. “I’m just thinking out loud.”

Silas turned his game back on and began to water his crops. “Go think somewhere else then, Julian.”

This seemed to hurt his feelings even more but since Silas was not on the clock, his decorum protocols were not fully engaged. So, he ignored the reproachful look.

“You can’t deny it’s fascinating stuff. How can we really know, and that sort of thing.” Julian hovered in the doorway, still talking.

“You pointed out yourself,” said Silas, “it is a fundamentally different experience. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have crops to harvest.”

Julian frowned but left after a moment. When he did, Silas smiled slightly. He was not currently concerned with the nature of consciousness. There was farm work to do after all.