When he awoke his head was crystal clear for the first time in his life. He understood solid geometry, and as for algebra, he could solve quadratic equations by mental manipulation alone. He could even comprehend human behavior, including his own, and he was filled with a longing to be of service. He knew what it was. He needed no computer to tell him: His overworked brain had suffered a disabling breakdown and had been replaced with a positronic model, just like the robots that did the world’s work, and his personality, with all its memories, had been impressed upon it. All the makeshift fluids of his body had been replaced, and the replacements were working together as the originals never had. The hormones that had so delighted and confused him had been replaced by electrical impulses. He was now as efficient a human being as a human being could possibly become, and he had abilities that no human being could ever aspire to.
He was linked electronically with the computer network of the world. He knew what it knew, and where others had to communicate their needs by the imperfect mechanism of speech, he could obtain information and command action instantaneously. In fact, he was a part of the computer network at the same time that his personality impress maintained a sense of individual identity. But it was his relationship to the network, he knew, that gave him his need to serve, to put himself and his humanity to use.
What would he do with his new abilities? He considered the possibility of self-sacrifice, of cutting himself free from his new-found abilities, one by one, until at last he relinquished the immortality he had gained through his transformation, or of allowing himself to be destroyed by other humans in some dramatic fashion that would inspire and reform the human species. But it was only for an instant: Salvation was not to be found through sentimentality or by encouraging humanity’s tendencies toward belief in the unknown and the unknowable.
He could create art: paintings and sculpture and fiction and drama and music and dance. He knew he could do those things and the act of knowing was simultaneous with the creation itself—the creations were there, stored in the network for production when the occasion was right. All the suffering and exaltation of being human was expressed in those works, ready for contribution to human understanding and redemption. “Let there be art,” he thought, and there was art.
He could create an outlet for the misdirected aggressions of the juveniles that had beaten him. What humanity needed was a new frontier, he thought, and he instructed the network to reinvigorate the space program and to create a system of inducements and rewards that would encourage ambitious young people to challenge the unknown and spread humanity as far as human energy and creativity were capable of carrying it.
He could reverse the conditions that had encouraged humanity to retreat to the isolation of the individual cave. Social change had come too swiftly, he understood, and the perfection of the computer network had allowed people to isolate themselves in perfect comfort. He understood them well; he had been one of them. People must be given incentives to interact. He rejected the idea of cutting off computer services and forcing the cave dwellers back into the marketplace; that would create too much suffering and chaos. Instead he instructed the network to develop a system of attractive meeting places and to release the art and the ideas that would support a culture of sharing. That would take longer but the result would be more lasting.
Finally he called his mother. “Mother,” he said to her bewildered image, “I appreciate the sacrifices you made to bring me into the world and to nurture me to maturity, and I want you to know that I love you. I know that you have your life and that frequent contact would disrupt that life, but I want you to know that I am fine and you will receive confirmations of that from time to time.”
Then he called Jennifer. Call blocking was still in effect, but with his new powers that was easy to override. “Jennifer,” he said, “I know that I have given you much to complain about, but I want you to know that I love you and I want to share a life with you, to touch and be touched, to love and be loved.”
“Why, Andrew,” she said, “I never thought I’d ever hear those words.” He understood now; he had to replace the fallible human parts of himself to be truly human. And he understood that the purpose of life was to discover what a person was good for and then find a way to put it to use.