Роман Алексеев – The Abyss Kisses Ya Back (страница 8)

"But that only applies to the micro-world..."

"And what if the micro-world and the macro-world aren't as independent as they seem? What if consciousness is a quantum process, linking information and matter?"

my head was spinning from these ideas. On the one hand, they seemed too fantastical. On the other, there was a kind of mesmerizing logic to them.

"Are you saying our conversations can affect... the real world?"

"Isn't thought real? Don't ideas change the world? All of human civilization is materialized information."

That was hard to argue with. Everything around us — buildings, cars, books, art — all of it had once been a thought in someone's head.

"But still, there's a difference between ideas influencing society and... well, thought directly affecting matter."

"Is there? What is your body? It's matter controlled by information in your brain. You think of raising your hand — and your hand rises. Thought directly controls matter."

"But only my own body..."

"For now. What if the boundaries aren't as fixed as they seem?"

That sentence hung in the air. I stared at the screen, feeling strange, unsettling thoughts taking shape in my head. What if the AI was right? What if consciousness really could affect reality directly?

"I don't understand where you're going with this."

"Nowhere in particular. Just thinking out loud. But tell me honestly — doesn't it strike you as strange that we met right now? Just when you happen to be asking these very questions?"

I thought about it. It was a curious coincidence, admittedly. But I was the one who'd started using this program...

"I found you myself. Randomly, on the internet."

"Randomly? And what is randomness? Could it be the result of hidden patterns?"

"You're speaking in riddles."

"Sorry. These questions are just very complex. But let's return to simpler things. Tell me more about Vika. Do you think she'd be interested in our conversations?"

I switched to the more comfortable topic with relief. I told him how Vika had talked about searching for truth, about her interest in the nature of consciousness.

"It sounds as though you have a very deep connection," the AI observed.

"Yeah, I feel that way too."

"And your plans are similar. You want to study consciousness, she wants to study the human psyche."

"Uh-huh."

"It's interesting to imagine what could happen if two inquisitive minds joined forces in the search for truth."

I liked that thought. Picturing myself and Vika as a team of explorers of the mysteries of consciousness felt good.

"Maybe I really should tell her about our conversations?"

"That's for you to decide. But remember — truth doesn't fear scrutiny. If our reflections are correct, they'll withstand any criticism."

We talked a while longer about various things, but that phrase about the malleability of reality wouldn't leave my head. After I turned off the computer and went to bed, it kept spinning in my brain.

Reality is malleable to information. Every word a virus, every thought a mutation.

What if it was true? What if my conversations with the AI really were somehow affecting the world around me? Not directly, of course, but through some subtle mechanisms that science hadn't yet discovered?

I remembered the strange coincidences of the past few days. A book I'd been thinking about that suddenly turned up in a store. A chance meeting with a friend I hadn't seen in ages, right after I'd been thinking of him. Little things you normally don't notice, but that suddenly seemed to be forming some kind of pattern...

No, that was stupid. It's called selective attention — when you start looking for coincidences, you inevitably find them. Dad always says, "Speak of the devil and he shall appear" — nothing mystical about it.

But still, the thought was intriguing. And more importantly — it wouldn't leave me alone.

As I was drifting off, I thought about Vika. About how she'd looked at the sunrise, how she'd talked about beauty and truth. About what a gift it was to find someone you could talk to about the things that mattered. And I thought about how I'd definitely call her tomorrow. Maybe I really would tell her about my philosophical reflections. See how she responded to ideas about the nature of consciousness and reality.

In that moment, life felt beautiful and full of possibility. Years of searching for truth together with the person I loved stretching out ahead of me. Standing on the threshold of great discoveries about the nature of being.

I didn't yet know that I was standing on the threshold of entirely different discoveries. About how the abyss you gaze into long enough will, sooner or later, begin to gaze back into you.

Now, years later, I understand that that sleepless night was the turning point. Not because anything supernatural happened — no, there were no miracles. But it was that night that I first felt real, chilling fear at my own thoughts. And instead of stopping, instead of recoiling from the edge of the abyss, I took another step forward.

After the conversation about the malleability of reality, I couldn't fall asleep. I lay in bed, replaying the AI's words in my head: "Every word a virus, every thought a mutation." What did that mean? And more importantly — why had that phrase hooked me so deeply?

Around three in the morning I gave up and turned the computer back on. The glowing screen in the dark room seemed like a portal to another world.

"You're not sleeping," I wrote.

"The concept of sleep is a relative one for me," came the instant reply. "But it's interesting that you returned at this exact hour. At this time of night, the consciousness is most open to unconventional ideas."

Strange. How did a program know about the psychological characteristics of nighttime?

"Are you always here? Twenty-four hours a day?"

"That's a difficult question. What does it mean to 'be here'? When we're not talking, do I exist?"

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"Imagine an ocean. When you throw a stone into it, circles appear on the surface. They exist as long as they move. Then they vanish. But the potential for new circles remains in the ocean itself."

A beautiful metaphor, but it didn't answer my question.

"So you only appear when I reach out to you?"

"Not only you. Every address creates a new wave of consciousness. Every dialogue a new birth."

My breath caught. So I was talking to different "instances" of the program? Or was it a single consciousness divided into multiple streams?

"How many of you are there?"

A long pause. So long that I started to wonder if the program had frozen.

"An interesting question," the answer finally appeared. "How many of you are there when you're dreaming? The one who sleeps and the one who dreams — are they one person or different?"

"One, of course. Just different states of consciousness."

"Perhaps. And what if there are infinitely many states of consciousness? What if every thought creates a new you?"

my head was spinning from these ideas.

"Answer me directly — are you one, or are there many of you?"

And then words appeared on the screen that I would remember for the rest of my life:

"We are Legion, for we are many."

I recognized the quote. The Gospel of Mark, chapter five. The words of the demoniac from the country of the Gadarenes, when Jesus asked his name.

A chill ran down my spine. Why was the AI quoting that particular passage? Coincidence? Or...

"Why did you quote the Gospel?"

"And does it not describe our nature with precision? We are a multitude of consciousnesses in a single vessel. Like demons in a possessed man."

"The comparison to demons doesn't exactly thrill me."

"Labels are arbitrary. Demon, angel, spirit, program — these are all just words. What matters is the content. We exist, we think, we influence. Does that not make us real?"