Guest Post by Jon “Malcolm King”:
Derrick Larsson adjusted his tie in the mirror and took stock. He’d be admitted to Mr. Reynard’s office at 14:30 hours, with ten minutes to share his achievements. Fine blonde hair was pomaded back into a neat, slick wave. Thick black eyeglasses with clear lenses framed his blue eyes. His face was bland, he knew, features that were best described as average were nonetheless well-maintained with perfect regimens of moisturizing and cleaning.
He was clean-shaven, tall but thin and with pale skin that glowed with health. Not all scientists neglected their skin care. In fact, the biology behind skin care came naturally to him. It was the study of that essence that animates a person that was really the mystery to which he’d devoted his lifetime.
And now he’d done it. He’d managed to digitize a person’s memories and siphon the soul, for lack of a better term. The true genius was the software that melded the emotional responses into algorithms that could be manipulated. A little compartmentalization of personal memories and the perfect amalgam of machine and organic was synthesized.
His Android Mark II was perfect. The base cowboy programming from the robot it had been had melded with the camboy’s memories, personality and essence. The body was cryogenically preserved and could be studied at a moment’s notice.
Now, all Dr. Larsson had to do was nail the presentation and maybe Mr. Reynard would notice him.
Derrick dressed in his new navy blue suit and crisp white dress shirt. He tied his flag tie into a perfect double Windsor knot and stood back. He cut a fair figure in a Yugo Boss suit. Shining black patent leather dress shoes completed his outfit, along with mother-of-pearl cuff-links and matching tie-pin.
He’d prepared his briefcase with all the hard copy photos, charts and a thumb drive with schematics for the hardware he’d designed and used for the operation. He also had a folder with the ritual he’d performed to seal the essence transfer.
It had been all too easy, really.
Derrick smiled. Soon. Soon he would be recognized for the great contributor he was as squadrons of Androids flew through the skies, bringing peace and joy to the world.
All he had to do was leave out the thing he’d had the Machine do to his late swim coach. Mr. Reynard would not likely approve of that.
He gathered his wits, courage and prepared materials to himself and breathed a deep breath. It was thirteen-thirty hours. One hour until greatness.