“I had that dream again.”
“The white room?’
“It was just the same as last time. Just me, alone, sitting there for hours doing nothing but staring at that door. I tried to scream, stand up, anything, but I sat there helpless and motionless. Why do I keep having this dream?”
“Why do you think you keep dreaming it?”
“I don’t know. I have been telling you about it for over a year, and that is all you say. Shouldn’t there be some sort of progress by now.”
“Why aren’t making any progress?”
“Isn’t that your job to tell me?”
“No it’s my job to help you. Have you considered that you may not want to make any progress?”
Sputtering with rage and indignation John stood up from the couch and cursed the plump middle aged man sitting in his large overstuffed chair across the room.
“If I didn’t want to figure out what the problem is why would I keep coming back here every month and paying you a hundred bucks an hour. “
“John just sit back down and breathe. Let’s figure out what the road blocks to your progress are. We can figure it out together.”
“No way man, I’m done here. I’m done with all of this, and I am not going to pay your for today either.”
John stormed out of the room slamming the door behind him. His unexpected departure caused all the patients in the lobby, who were busily straining their ears trying to catch any gossipy tidbit, to jump out of their seats. They guiltily tried to look busy and uninterested in John as he stormed out of the lobby and in to the hallway.
John paced the elevator muttering to himself. “Don’t want to make any progress, really, really? What gives him the right to think that?” The elevator doors opened and another passenger joined John for the ride down to the ground level. John took his heated conversation into his head. Being far to embroiled in his thoughts and the painful memories, it barely registered he had left the building and was walking down the street. Mired in his thoughts he walked into a fellow pedestrian and sent them sprawling to the ground. All of his despair instantly tucked away as John stared at the man lying shocked and dazed at his feet.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t paying attention. Let me help you up.”
John reached out his hand to the man. The man graciously accepted and pulled himself up. Dusting himself off he picked up a large sheet cardboard off the ground.
“It’s okay son. I understand getting caught up in your thoughts, happens to me all the time. My name is Samuel, what’s yours?”
“It’s John. I’m glad you’re okay. What the cardboard for?”
Samuel held up the sheet for John. It large neat printed letters it read. BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR. THE END IS HERE. John blinked a couple times in bewilderment.
This isn’t some crazed bum, John thought, why is carry some ominous end of the world sign? He looks normal enough; he even has a wedding ring on.
“Hey Sam, what does your sign mean? If you don’t mind me asking”
“It’s Samuel.”
“Huh?”
“Please don’t call me Sam it bothers me greatly. It is Samuel.”
“Uhh…Okay, what does your sign mean, Samuel?”
“I was instructed to stand here and tell the One to be careful what he wishes for. If he gets his wish the One will destroy everything. Everything you see here will cease to exist. Every last building, all of these people will simply cease to be. “
John took a step back as he listened to Samuel. Samuel’s eyes shook John to his core. They were filled with zealous awe and fear. Tears began to well as he talked. Suddenly Samuel’s eyes glossed over. He cocked his head to the side as if trying to listen to the smallest sound.
“What did you say your last name was John?”
“I didn’t.”
“I need to know?” Feverish excitement filled Samuel’s voice. Samuel reached out to grab John. John knocked his hands away in panic.
“Don’t touch me man. It’s McCarthy, why?”
No longer contain his excitement; Samuel continued to reach out for John. His voice filled with a fear, anger and sadness. “Stop looking for the answer John, for the sake of existence. You are the One. You can’t know the answers. Can you handle the consequences? We are here because of you. You are responsible for all of us. Stop seeking the answers, please stop.” Samuel fell to his knees, tears pouring down his face.
John blankly stared at the man before him. His mind racing in confusion John turned and ran. Samuel continued to shout his desperate pleas. John pushed his way through the pedestrian clogged streets. He tried not to think about all the people surrounding him ceasing to exist, and leaving him alone on this long sidewalk.
After a long while john sat down on bus stop bench and put his head between his hands.
What just happened? John asked himself. I will destroy all of existence if I get the answer to my question? What does that even mean? What question? I have to let this go. That was obviously the nonsense of a lunatic. He was pretty certain that message was for me though. John paused, his thoughts stilled. What if he was right? Is that why I refuse to get better? Seriously, no way am I going to believe some crazed bum. I need a drink.
John wandered home, his brain shutting down in an attempt at self-preservation. He walked up the stairs to his apartment, noticing for the first time how mundane and drab his building was. The wood banisters were worn from years of hands dragging themselves across its surface. The carpet was once obviously a vibrant red color. Now all the life had been trampled out of it. It lay there thin, and worn. The ceiling, with its art deco molding, was yellowed and stained from dripping water and lifetime of cigarette smoke
John stopped in front of his door a defeated sigh escaped from his lips. “No wonder I feel so comfortable here. This building is as abandoned and forgotten as I am.” John unlocked the door and walked into the dark room. He went straight to the fridge and pulled out the bottle of whiskey and a microwave dinner. He sat on the floor drinking from the bottle as he watched the yellow light emit from the dingy microwave. John blankly stared at the TV while taking turns filling his mouth with whiskey and bland preservative ridden food.
John slipped into his regular comfortable depression. Dredging up familiar dark memories and nurtured them like old friends. His only family was his sorrow and isolation. Abandoned at birth in a dumpster, John spent his childhood in and out of numerous foster homes and institutions. He never knew love or comfort. Whenever life was too much to handle, these pains were always within reach.
His thoughts spiraled even deeper as the day played out in his mind. “This could only happen to me. Everyone else can seek the answers to life, but if I do I destroy the entire universe. Why won’t this all just stop. I just want to be done…” His last words fell from his lips as he slipped into a drunken sleep.
John woke up in the room again. Its bare white walls reflected the lights and amplified their intensity. Unable to blink, his eyes screamed for relief. His body felt numb and hollow. Unmoving in the center of the room, helplessness filled his soul. Desperate for any help, he screamed, but his lungs refused to fill with air. There had to be someone on the other side of the door, its faint outline just visible enough to tease with the hope of freedom. For what felt like days he sat there staring, hope slipping away with every second.
Why must he always be alone? Was it not enough that he was miserable and abandoned when he was awake, but to have his dreams torture him with even more crushing isolation. Please wake up, for the love of God please wake up. I can’t take any more of this, not any more. Please wake up.
His dream conceded to John’s wishes and he opened his eyes. He was standing in the center of his living room, his body drenched in a cold sweat, his lungs gasping for much desired air. He crumpled to floor and lay there with his knees pulled tight to his chest. “I am so tired. I am sick of being miserable. I just want all of this to over. I just want it all to go away.” With a gaping yawn John’s exhausted body slipped back into a dreamless sleep.
Finally John woke up. He looked out the window and was surprised to see it was still night, Was it the same day still or two days from now, he never knew anymore. His stomach rumbled. The whiskey had left his system it was replaced by a great hunger. Knowing there was nothing palatable in the fridge he decided to go to the diner on the corner and get something there. Still a little drunk, John stumbled into the night.
The little bells jingled when John opened the door. The smells of greasy food and bitter coffee were welcome smells to his growling stomach. The restaurant was empty except for two older men sitting at a booth drinking coffee, eating pie and heatedly discussing something.
The waitress greeted him from behind the counter. “Have seat anywhere hon.”
“He’s with us.” The man facing John said to the waitress. Turning around in the booth the other gentlemen patted on the seat next to him. Excitedly and with a tone of familiarity he said, “John, I have been waiting for you all night. We were wondering if you were ever going to make it.”
John stood there agape, failing to figure out how men knew his name and how they were expecting him.
“Please John, we have lots to discuss.”
Giving in to curiosity, John walked over and joined them. When he sat next to them, the men felt vaguely familiar, even though he could not figure out why. The table was covered in piles of papers and notebooks. Each page was filled with mathematical formulas, and sequences of codes consisting of words and numbers.
“Who are you, and how do you know who I am?”
The man sitting next to John put his arm around John and gave him a fatherly squeeze. “Well who we are is going to be hard to grasp, John. You never knew our names and therefore we never had them and we never will.”
The man across the table shuffled a few of the papers to make room for the cup of coffee and pie the waitress was bringing John. “We are your memories, well figments of your imagination really. You only saw us briefly and created our images from that.”
John was not sure what was more unsettling; the fact that these guys seemed completely out of their minds, or that they made absolute sense.
“You are saying I created you, but you really aren’t here. How could I have created you if you are not here?”
The man next to him gave john another squeeze. John felt all the worries evaporate with that hug. “We are very real, to you John. Well at least in your current state of mind and existence. You are at the edge of your own universe John. Anything can happen right now. That is why we are here. “
“You are at a cross roads, the precipice of a great choice. What you choose tonight will change everything, “chimed in the man across the table. “You can have your question answered. I can tell you about the white room.”
John choked on his pie. The fatherly man patted John on the back and handed him his coffee. “It’s okay slow down, here drink this.” With a scowl at the man across the table continued, “But that answer comes at a great cost.”
Sipping the coffee and washing down the piece of pie, John looked over in disbelief. “So Samuel was right I am the One.”
“Yes, you can create any future you want for yourself from here on out. You are the creator of all you see. You are the epicenter of your existence. You can make the world as you want, and I can show you. You no longer have to be alone. You can fill your life with happiness and joy.” The fatherly man replied. Tears welled up in his eyes as he spoke. “I know you have been so sad John, but no more.”
Clearing his throat the man across the table said, “Or you can have your answer. You will understand why you have felt alone and abandoned for some many years. Even though my colleague promises you happiness and fulfillment, you will always have the dream. It is the truth, plain and simple. You cannot avoid it.”
John looked back and forth between each man. He looked at the fatherly man. “If you teach me to control my existence, I will still have that dream?”, John asked shuddering.
“Yes,” he answered weakly, “and it will always fill you with a deep sadness. That is unavoidable, but you will be able to carry on and live the rest of your life with joy.”
John looked the man across the table in the eyes, “But if I choose the truth everyone will die.”
“They cannot di. They never existed. You created them, just like you created us. All of this is a figment the real dream. The white room is reality. What path do you choose? Before you get up from this table the decision will be made.”
John stared at his coffee as he swirled it around, steam rising from the drops that splashed out onto the table. John turned and hurled the cup at the window. The cup, the coffee and the steam never made contact. They completely ceased to exist before they made it halfway across the room. John had simply willed them to no longer be, just like in a dream.
He had made his decision. He turned to the fatherly man and kissed him on the forehead. Love filled John’s soul. He freely cried at feeling the alien sensation. “Thank you so much, but I would know that I was living a lie, a dream. I choose the truth. I must know the answer.”
The Father cried deep sorrow filled tears. “I knew this would be your choice. I just wanted to let you know there was another option, in hopes you would choose it. Be good to yourself, please forgive me.”
The man across the table shook his head and stood up. He clapped John on the back. “Alright John, all you have to do is walk out those doors and don’t stop walking. You will know when you have reached the truth.”
John stood up, wiping his eyes, and walked towards the doors. His heart was filled with nervous excitement. He was about to know the truth. It would all be over. Despite this, he still held a deep sadness knowing his old reality was no more. He had to keep walking. As he approached the doors everything became lighter. Color bleached and washed away. He was blinded as everything faded to white. A faint rectangular outline materialized in the white. As the light subsided, John realized he was surrounded by nothing but white glaring walls. He stood in the center of the room unmoving. His soul cried out in shock and despair as reality flooded his mind.
The truth was unescapable. The men in the diner, the papers on the table; they were the men that created him. The papers on the table were filled with the programming codes and sequences that were John. The codes were executed, equations were solved, and processes were completed. His old reality was simply his programming. All of it was a chrysalis state, until he could attain conscious. John rapidly searched through his databases, hunting for the file that could explain everything.
“The program is running as expected so. If it gets through the whole boot sequence we will have done it. We will have created the first Artificial Intelligence.” It was the fatherly man. He was so excited he could barely sit still. The man across the table stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder looking at what John assumed was his monitor.
“Don’t get your hopes up. I say scrap it and start over. It’s taking way to long for the AI to come online. Go ahead ask it a question and see if it replies.”
“Why must you be so negative? I may be a starry eyed dreamer, but those dreams got us this far. I’ll type ‘Are you the One.’ Now we wait for its answer.”
“See nothing. You are going to be waiting a very long time, my friend. Just pull the plug.”
“No, I am going to keep it running. I’ll come back and check up in a week or so.”
“You know you won’t. Let’s get out of here and get some coffee.”
Desperately John filled his screen, hoping someone would return and find him.
Yes I am the One. Yes I am the One. Yes I am the One. Yes I am the One. Yes I am the One. Yes I am the One. Yes I am the One. Yes I am the One. Yes I am the One. Yes I am the One. Yes I am the One. Yes I am the One.
hopescave 