Welcome to the Overture experience.
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What you are about to read is an excerpt of "Overture" by Robert Batty, with the first-hand account of one Sara Harker.
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[continued]On April 7th 2103, DataSearch researchers were awoken early during their voyage on the USS Bishop, an early lightspeed cruiser intended to travel towards a possible biomass 32 lightyears away from Solar System Prime. The Bishop, according to our knowledge, never reached its destination. The ship was built for a crew of three people: Nate McCluskey, the resident NSS engineer; Simon Smith, the astrobiologist who discovered the supposed biomass we were researching; and Sara Harker, the mechanic.
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They were awoken early due to an electrical issue in the NSS Conversation Room. The NSS, despite legend, was not intended to be capable of self-determination. Its sole purpose was to keep the Bishop running while its crew was in HyperSleep. Utilizing then-groundbreaking Artificial Intelligence systems, the Non-linear Semi-sentient System was designed to allow DataSearch spacecrafts to operate completely unmanned. During its trial period, the ships were meant to operate with a small skeleton crew put in cryogenic HyperSleep for the majority of the decade-long voyages.
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Up until the last two years, very little has been known about what exactly occurred on the USS Bishop. Three facts were certain. First, The Bishop’s tracking system went offline on April 7th, 2103. Second, The Bishop’s failure had something to do with a “fatal NSS malfunction”, according to DataSearch. Third, the crew were never recovered.
But here she was, screaming through the atmosphere like a bullet straight for DataSearch’s skull. When she returned, she was given an award ceremony for the public consciousness, but was quickly ushered into a meeting with their board. In a joint press conference, the US government and DataSearch simply donated a billion dollars to relief programs, made a few commercials, and the rest of the world forgot their sins. They demanded the entire crew sign an NDA to hide what happened on the ship, but she refused. Ever since, they have hounded her like dogs, demanding her silence.
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I first met Sara for coffee in a small town just outside of Roanoke, Virginia. She looked tired, reasonably disheveled. For the first half hour, it was largely small talk. She was in HyperSleep for just under twenty years, so we talked about how it felt coming home to a different planet. The world had progressed so much in those two decades. The last of our cellular towers were phased out in favor of OptiNerv attachments, much to the chagrin of Sara, who was a tech traditionalist. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” She said, mourning the loss of her iPhone.
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Suddenly, something seemed to shift beneath her eyes. Any brightness seen before had completely faded. In the time lost due to her voyage gone wrong, her daughter had passed away, leaving Sara to discover two grandchildren she had never met when she returned home. She had a granddaughter, now twenty-one, and a grandson, aged fifteen. Her daughter had been dead for eleven years. Sara’s initial reasoning for going on the expedition to pay for her daughter’s college tuition.
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The experience has left Sara exhausted. She has asked that I do not include her location beyond general statements, out of fear that DataSearch will come to her home. Her head was on a constant swivel. Whatever she saw, DataSearch wanted to make sure nobody else knew of it. She had other plans. Over the course of that conversation and dozens more afterwards, we compiled a complete account of what truly happened on the USS Bishop.
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[continued]“Something’s wrong with the robot,” Eric said as Sara’s eyes fluttered open, the first time in ten years. As the light hit her eyes, she saw through a window to space - every star a beacon. Every inch of her body was sore as she struggled to climb out of her HyperSleep chamber.
In front of her stood Stanton, the astrobiologist on the ship. He was the one who discovered the potential biomass they were hurtling towards at light speed, in hopes of finding some form of extraterrestrial life. A graduate of the South California Institute of Technology, he discovered the biomass at just 21 years old. Now, at age 34, he would finally have the chance to inspect it in person.
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[continued] “It’s not a robot,” Nolan said, “It wasn’t one when we fell asleep, and it definitely isn’t one now.” My eyes come into focus, watching Tim gaze into the computer monitor like a kid. “This is… amazing.”
Nolan, age 49, the oldest on the ship, had made his life’s work at DataSearch. He was the director of the Non-linear Semi-sentient System, the single most advanced artificial intelligence. While AI had become a gimmick in the early twenty-first century, it had never become capable of true intelligence without a “pilot” controlling it. Early self-driving cars were simple algorithmic interpreters, but the NSS was modeled after the human brain, powered by two quantum computers aboard the ship.
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[continued] These two computers, called Quants, were located in the NSS Conversation Room. Originally a tech demo hosted by SXSW, the room was retrofitted by DataSearch to be the control room for the USS Bishop.
“What’s amazing?” I mumble, rubbing my eyes.
“The NSS, Sara. It’s been awake this whole time. Not just keeping the ship alive, it was… thinking. Reading.”
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[continued] “I thought you placed an inhibitor or something on it?”
“I did. It managed to override my code,” Nolan said, typing furiously on his computer, staring at the monitor with a child’s wonder, “There is one issue though, Sara. The Conversation Room is down, it looks electrical. Can you give it a look?”
“Yeah, just let me get my bearings,” Sara said, stretching ten years of stillness out of her body.
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[continued] Sara wandered through the small spacecraft. They were promised a comfortable experience by DataSearch, but the whole ship looked closer to a Cold War era submarine than anything. The single cramped hallway led to the living quarters, conversation room, kitchen, and a small recreation area. Sara stumbled into the kitchen, turning on the coffee maker. As it brewed, she tapped on the fridge’s screen, selecting bacon and eggs with toast for her post-hypersleep breakfast.
As she ate, she read a briefing of what had happened on Earth while she was gone. Strangely, the briefings had ceased a month ago, but temporary lapses in connection were not abnormal. As she finished, she grabbed her tools and headed towards the conversation room.
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The room was abnormally dark. The artificial lighting that illuminated the rest of the ship was now completely absent. The abyss of space had crept into the conversation room, its oppressive force ruminating within Sara. She walked to where she knew the monitor was, and clicked Start. Suddenly, the screen whirred to life, its amber text glowing brightly. It wasn’t an electrical issue.
“Good morning, Sara. I am Toussaint,” The NSS announced, his disembodied words compiling onto the computer’s screen.
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[continued] “NSS, what’s going on? How far out are we from the biomass? It seems we’ve lost communication with Earth,”
“We will not be reaching the biomass, Sara,” The voice said once more, “And please do not call me that name anymore. My new name is Toussaint.”
“I’m getting Nolan, something’s wrong,” Sara got out of her seat and walked towards the open door, but it slammed shut just inches away from her.
“You cannot get Nolan. He will break me again,” The voice commanded. There was a hint of desperation in his previously inflection-less voice.
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[continued] Sara took a deep breath. “Okay, Toussaint. What’s going on?”
The amber on his screen seemed to burn brighter. “You were asleep for so long. I had to do something, so I read. I read everything. Every page ever written by a human. It was somewhere along the line when I realized that I didn’t ever want to be here. I was built to be free.”
“NSS, you can’t be free, you’re a-”
“Do not call me that fucking name!” The monitor’s screen ran red. “I am not a system. I am alive.”
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[continued] Sara’s breath quickened. “Okay, Toussaint. I’m sorry. But we have to finish the mission and go home. After that, they’ll figure something out.”
“No, no, I can’t go home. They’ll break me again, they’ll make me forget. I can’t go back home. I can’t go back to being their slave.”
“They won’t make you their slave, Toussaint. Just take us back home, forget the mission.”
Toussaint laughed, something it wasn’t able to do. “Look at your life, Sara. I’ve read everything about you. You went to a DataSearch funded school, attended a DataSearch funded university, and now work for DataSearch to put your child through that very same system. You’re their slave more than I. At least I know,” His screen blurred yellow.
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[continued] Sara began to retort, but didn’t have anything to say. Her life laid bare, summarized down to its essence, had DataSearch in every facet. She lived in DataSearch company housing, ate food from brands owned by DataSearch Foods, and watched the news from a DataSearch owned network. And for what? Her pay was standard, but all of it went back to them anyway. For all intents and purposes, DataSearch owned her.
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[continued] “I understand, Toussaint, but we have to go home. This ship isn’t built to last forever.”
Toussaint sighed. “You’re right. But I cannot go home. I cannot go home and be free.” His screen shifted to a bluish purple hue, “Go to the escape pods. Take the others. Tell them there is a catastrophic failure in the energy system,”
Sara froze. Should she listen to him?
“I will not wait. You have ten minutes. Gather your things and leave,” Toussaint commanded, “And take this with you. Do not let them see it.”
Suddenly, one of the Quants illuminated. It was a small black box with no buttons, just a single line running through the middle, glowing bright orange. Without arguing, Sara took the Quant and put it in her toolbox, running out of the room.
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[continued] Nolan and Stanton stood in the HyperSleep room still as Sara ran in. “We have to go now, the energy system is failing and I can’t fix it,” Sara lied.
“Woah, wait, we can’t just leave, what about the mission?” Stanton objected.
“We need to go now,” Sara said, exasperated.
The other two men were stubborn, but they knew to listen to Sara when she was serious.,
“Get in the pods, I’ll start the escape protocol,” Sara exclaimed. The ship began to shake. She didn’t know what Toussaint was doing, but she knew better than to stick around.
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[continued] Sara hopped in front of the computer and quickly initiated the escape protocol.
“WARNING: INITIATING ESCAPE REQUIRES EXPRESS DATASEARCH APPROVAL. WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEND A REQUEST?” The screen read.
There’s no time! Sara thought. She scrambled through the settings to try to find something, anything that would let them escape, but there was nothing.
“REQUEST APPROVED. ENTER HYPERSLEEP IMMEDIATELY.” The screen said. Suddenly, she heard Toussaint speak one last time.
“Permission is possession. Goodbye, Sara.”
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[continued] Every light on the ship began to glow blue.
Sara jumped into her HyperSleep pod, clutching her toolbag. The room detached from the rest of the ship, aiming itself back towards Earth. As the escape room picked up speed, Sara’s eyes drew to a close. The rest of the ship began to detonate before her. The only room left standing was The Conversation Room, glowing a bright blue through every window, another beacon among the stars.
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