Invisible Symbiosis: An Artificial Intelligence Thriller Read online

  Okay. Why not?

  But instinctively, I had my doubts.

  Receiving a heart transplant was no simple “reboot.”

  Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t hear the door open.

  Standing at the door was a sculptural blond with fully-siliconed lips and breasts. I would have never been able to say how old she was with all the work she’d had done; the range of possibility was too wide. She could have just as easily been 20 or 40. Was she a nurse? No, not with a yellow top, bright blue mini skirt and four-inch stilettos. That didn’t look like a uniform to me.

  She must be in the wrong room.

  Hesitant at first, she gave me a dazzling smile and approached my bed.

  “Leo, my love.”

  The declaration was unmistakable.

  We knew each other.

  Quite well, apparently.

  I forced a smile that didn’t seem to come from the depths of my heart. The sight of this “creature” here in this hospital room was so surreal to me.

  But mostly, I didn’t know how to respond! No name or memory came to mind. Nothing. Nada. Zero!

  This “blombshell” (meaning blond bombshell, sorry but it was only name that I could have given her at the moment…) leaned toward me and gave me a passionate kiss.

  In old legends, the kiss of a princess instantly transforms the frog into his former self.

  I waited and hoped, trying in vain to answer the princess’s kiss, which seemed to last an eternity.

  But at the end of this eternity, I knew it. I was still a frog.

  Damn legends.

  Our lips gently parted, as if in slow motion. I opened my eyes and felt her smoldering look, a mix of desire and love.

  Should I fake it? Try to do the same? What do I call her? “My sweet, my love” or “Miss or Madam”?

  She looked upset. She saw the panic in my eyes, stood up and slowly sat back down on my bed.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  “No, I don’t remember. I’m sorry.”

  She paused for a few seconds and then smiled again. Her hand started to gently stroke my cheek.

  “I understand, my love.”

  It was time for me to know. Now. This life that I had rejected and that took me back with open arms, what was it?

  “Tell me everything right now. Who I am, who you are, what I’m doing in this city, why I wanted to end my life. I want to know everything.”

  “We have plenty of time for that, Leo. Let’s not rush things.”

  “I’m ready. I’ve been locked up in this room for two months now, cut off from time, reality. And now I want to live in the present. Where have you been these past two months?”

  “At your side, Leo. I was here every day. And you were in such a fragile state. These two months, you’ve been in a sort of half coma. Last night, the doctor called me to say that you were finally awake.

  I straightened up on the bed slowly and looked into her eyes for the first time.

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Apolonia. I’m not your wife, but we’ve been together for 10 years, well if you call seeing each other for a few hours per week ‘being together’…”

  “Do we have children?” I asked.

  She hesitated and turned her face toward the window.

  “No, Leo. Ever since we’ve been together, you told me that you didn’t want children.”

  “Why?”

  “Too complicated, you said, with the life that you have. With everything that you wanted to do. All that you wanted to become.”

  “And what did I want to become?”

  “Leo, I’m sorry, honey, but I have to follow the doctor’s orders. He would rather we take it slowly down this road.”

  I was going to insist.

  I was a survivor.

  Thanks to some miracle of science, I had somehow defeated death.

  What did I have to fear now?

  “Apolonia, please forgive me if I can’t call you ‘honey’ or ‘my love’ or any of that yet, but really, I have to know. Why should we put off the conversation until tomorrow? I feel perfectly fine, I promise. Everything’s fine. Great, even! I’m alive, I don’t even know how I could’ve wanted to kill myself, you don’t have to be afraid.”

  She looked deep into my eyes. I could feel her inner torment. What secret was she hiding? She took a deep breath.

  “Leo…”

  Her cell phone rang. She checked who was calling and waited for it to stop ringing.

  “Leo…”

  The phone rang again.

  “Answer it,” I told her.

  “Not now, no, not now.”

  The phone went quiet.

  Then it rang again. Apolonia clenched it with anger, stood up and turned toward the window.

  “Hello? Yes… He’s awake… No, not really, no… It’s still early, I think… I understand the situation, but you… Okay…But don’t expect me to…Okay…talk to you later…”

  She turned back to me and I thought that I could make out tears deep in her eyes.

  “Leo, you’ve just been discharged. Get dressed, we’re coming to pick you up.”

  “Your company is all I need right now, Apolonia. You have so many things to tell me. Who deserves my full attention more than you right now?”

  “Listen to me. There are three important people in your life. I’m one of them. Then there is your partner, who I was just talking to. He’s coming to see you right now. He’s the one who will help you understand who the third important person in your life is.”

  “More important than the two of us?”

  “If only you knew, my love, if only you knew…”

  Room 425

  15 minutes later

  Ever since the phone call, Apolonia was desperately quiet about anything relating to my life. All I could do was speculate like an idiot, and I was no longer in the mood to play guessing games.

  As a “welcome to the world” gift, she brought me my things in a faded plastic bag…perhaps they would offer a clue about who I was? I rummaged through the bag and was a bit shocked to pull out an old pair of frayed jeans, a hard rock t-shirt, a red sweater and a brand new, bright white pair of tennis shoes…She must have just picked up anything she could find.

  “I hope you like your favorite outfit!”

  “Tell me that I’ve got something else at the house, Apolonia...”

  “Yeah, sure. About a hundred more pairs of white tennis shoes.”

  “Did I collect white sneakers?”

  “I’m not sure if ‘collected’ is the right word, but you were obsessed with them, perfect white tennis shoes. You could – or you can – I don’t even know anymore! – change them four times a day.”

  I put on my so-called favorite outfit and lugged myself to the bathroom to see what I looked like all put together, at least on the outside.

  Standing before me was a tall young man, gangly, about 25 years-old, brown hair cut short, deep blue eyes and enormous hands. I must have been at least six-foot-five, maybe even six-seven. I couldn’t say whether I was particularly good looking, but given that I had feared the worst, the whole look wasn’t all that bad…except for the frayed jeans and red sweater.

  Very tall… huge hands… fan of tennis shoes… married to the “blombshell” … Of course! I must have been a basketball player!

  I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself on the court… aggressive, like a lion… I seized the ball, dribbled down in my favorite shoes, sprung into the air…

  It was all in my imagination. No memory came back to me.

  Knock knock!

  “Come in!”

  I went out of the bathroom and ran into another - how do I put this - stereotype. A good-looking guy with jet black hair, slicked back with slime, dressed like some kind of aristocrat, three-piece suit, a winning smile…

  I shot a worried look at Apolonia.

  Don’t tell me, please don’t tell me that this guy is my partner…please…r />
  The pretty face moved toward me, his smile unflinching, and opened his arms wide. Instinctively, I recoiled… so he sprang toward me and grabbed me with all his might.

  “Leo, I’m so happy to see you on your feet!”

  He squeezed tighter. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought that he was trying to strangle me!

  “You have no idea who much we missed you! But now everything’s going to get back to normal. It’s all going to be great, because we’ve got you back. We’ve got you back, Leo!”

  I had the nasty feeling that I’d just experienced this same scene a few minutes ago with Apolonia. And what do I call this slimy, dark-haired stranger?

  It was Apolonia who came to my rescue.

  “It’s quite likely that Leo doesn’t recognize you, Mark. You should maybe hold off on the gushing.”

  Mark, since apparently that was his name, let go of his grip so I could breathe again. I noticed that it was not enough for him to physically strangle me, he also had to suffocate me in the syrupy cologne that he had literally doused himself in.

  “Excuse me, sorry. You’re right, sweetheart. Leo, I’m going to tell you everything! And I’m sure that your brilliant mind is going to put it all back together. We don’t have any more time to lose. And you can count on your old partner to get you back up to speed right away.”

  He just called my fiancée “sweetheart” … and yes, unfortunately, this guy was indeed my “old” partner…

  Mark took my hand and pulled me toward the door.

  “Time to go, Leo. I came in your car, she ought to bring back some good memories.”

  And without another word, I was sitting in the most beautiful car that I’d ever laid eyes on.

  SoHo, NY

  Something had changed in the spacious loft.

  The light that had once illuminated Laura’s canvases with delicate sparkle, this light - so ordinary outside, yet so brilliant inside - this light had gone out.

  The freight elevator, typical in New York lofts, started up slowly with a racket of creaks and whines.

  After a few minutes, the metal door to the loft opened and Laura stepped out with a wobbly step.

  What would she find in here? How would it look after what happened?

  She took another step forward.

  “The castle in Sleeping Beauty,” she thought. Frozen in time. The paintbrushes had been tossed on the floor. The paint had dried and cracked in the cups. She thought that she could make out a spider in one or two of the canvases’ corners. Normal. She hadn’t planned on coming back to her cocoon 60 days later…

  Suddenly something incredible happened, but no one was there to see it.

  No one except Laura.

  All of a sudden, the color of the light changed.

  Every ray of light vibrated with a new brilliance.

  Brighter and brighter.

  It became almost impossible to make out the furniture, the canvases.

  It was as if the sun itself had been invited to celebrate.

  Laura took one last step.

  Out of instinct, she picked up a paintbrush on the floor.

  And her heart started to pound wildly.

  San Francisco

  Highway 101

  I couldn’t believe it.

  The Bentley convertible that was racing full throttle down San Francisco’s legendary Highway 101, the leather seats that I was sitting on, this magnificent royal blue Bentley was mine.

  All mine!

  And apparently, this was not the only car I owned.

  At home, I had a Jaguar, two Ferraris and a Porsche.

  Despite my slimy friend at my side, I was having a good time.

  I still wasn’t so comfortable with him.

  He gave me the nasty impression of being attached to me as if his life depended on it. I wanted to tell him to just relax, but first I needed to know more about my old life before deciding how friendly I should be with him.

  “So, you like your old Bentley, Leo?”

  “Oh yeah! She’s a real beauty!”

  “I didn’t want to hand over the keys just yet, because I wanted you to be able to concentrate on what I have to tell you. Are you ready to learn about your life?”

  It was so strange to think that I’d been alive for more than 25 years and it only took one crash to evaporate billions of memories to God knows where.

  And even stranger was it to “learn about” these memories from the mouth of another person. Especially someone as slick as this…

  I was ready. Of course.

  Ready, but worried.

  What would I find hidden behind all of these nice rides?

  Who would I meet? Which Leo?

  Would I like him...or hate him?

  I was so troubled by these thoughts that my vision started to blur.

  And my heart started to race.

  I put my hand to my chest and forced myself to breathe.

  “Leo? Leo? Are you okay?”

  90...100...110...120…

  I felt it, my heart getting worked up again.

  “I… I don’t feel very well… my heart rate feels like it’s going up again.”

  “Leo, Leo, breathe, take a deep breath…”

  Instinctively, Mark was getting riled up. He was starting to panic.

  My breathing became heavier and heavier.

  The light became blinding.

  “I’m taking you right back to the hospital. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you…”

  125...130...140…

  Everything around me had gone white.

  Was I dying?

  Again?

  Already?

  Why?

  Why not.

  Meanwhile in SoHo, NY

  Laura set down her paintbrush, put her hand to her chest and furrowed her eyebrows.

  Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum “Too fast, I absolutely have to calm down.”

  She stood up from her stool and walked around in long steps, breathing as normally as possible in order to pace her heart to this artificial rhythm.

  She had done this exercise hundreds of times since she was a little girl. But now everything was different and each step felt completely foreign to her.

  Was she really so afraid?

  No.

  She had decided a long time ago to not live her life in fear. It was as if she had charged every cell in her body with endless positive energy.

  Bum Bum

  Bum Bum

  Bum Bum

  “That’s better, a lot better.”

  Her pulse was slowing down now and she went back to the canvas that she had just finished. It was a portrait of a young man in semi-darkness with brown hair cut very short and deep blue eyes.

  “Who are you, beautiful stranger?”

  The young man was smiling.

  And Laura smiled back.

  San Francisco

  Highway 101

  Bum Bum

  Bum Bum

  Bum Bum

  “I’m okay… I’m okay now.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Clear senses, my pulse is going back to normal.”

  I was still in shock, but I didn’t want to go back to the hospital.

  “Take me home and tell me everything about my life now.”

  “You’re the boss. Sit back, relax and listen close.”

  The view on the highway was mind-blowing. The Pacific Ocean on one side and on the other, the mountains that towered over the city. The sky was a sharp dry blue and in the distance, you could just make out the Golden Gate Bridge that I had jumped from.

  After a few long minutes, Mark started.

  “You’re not like other people, Leo, not at all.”

  “With everything that I’ve just been through, I could have guessed that much Mark.”

  “As you can see, we are here in the cradle of the international high-tech industry, Silicon Valley, the birthplace of Google and the corporations that have cha
nged people’s lives and made fortunes for their founders and investors. With every step of the revolution, a new corporation is born. First Microsoft when computers needed an operating system that allowed users to ‘talk’ with the machine. Then we needed a clear and simple way to handle the mass of new information when using these computers, so then came Google. Next was Apple, who shifted focus from computers toward cell phones that users could use to manage this new ‘digital life.’ Finally, Facebook, when users figured out that they could share this new life with their family and friends.”

  Mark’s excitement was boiling over. His head was bobbing back and forth and he threw his hands in the air as he talked. My instincts told me that this conversation had been well rehearsed.

  “Go on. This story sounds familiar.”

  “Another revolution was in the works while all of this was going on, Leo. Maybe the biggest one yet. We think that this is the one that is going to change everything.”

  “We?”

  “You and me, Leo. YOU AND ME! Up until you decided to throw it all away at least.”

  “I don’t know what to say. I don’t understand any of this!”

  “Leo, before the accident, YOU were the CEO of the top enterprise of Silicon Valley. And everyone’s - I mean everyone’s - eyes are on us now!”

  I had wanted to know and now I had to face the truth. My recovery wasn’t going to be easy…

  “Hold on! Can we put things into perspective a little bit here? Don’t tell me that THE WORLD is holding its breath right now and waiting for me to recover?”

  “That’s not far from the truth, Leo. We’re under phenomenal pressure here. Wait a second…”

  He reached behind the back of the seat and rummaged around frantically.

  “I can’t get it. Can you reach one of those newspapers or magazines behind your seat?”

  I unbuckled my seatbelt, lunged toward the backseat and grabbed one of the San Francisco Chronicles.

  Spread across half of the page was a photo of me, dirty jeans, red sweater, white sneakers, in front of a dark black cube a little bit above me. The headline read The Vapor Kid.