The Rain of Night

Some say that dreams can foretell the future.  Others believe that they aren’t predictions, but messages from your mind telling you what to do.  Most people don’t really think about their dreams and just dismiss them by saying they’re nothing more than the subconscious ‘sorting things out’ as you rest.  Whatever they are, everyone must admit that they are truly unique experiences and it is no wonder why the Ancients imbued them with magical properties.
One person who was currently having a very vivid dream was a man named Samuel Morgan, who liked to class himself as a writer.  He did not believe that dreams were anything mystical although he did feel that they were a good inspiration for his writing.  Maybe, if he was wrong, this dream could have prepared him better for what was to come or at least given him some good material for a story.  It was a pity he couldn’t remember the dream after he woke up.
    As Sam regained consciousness the image of a ceiling fan slowly revolving materialised in his vision, he took a few seconds to realise that this was what reality looked like and the dream that he couldn’t remember wasn’t real.  He took a quick look around to help him recall; he could make out a small bedroom coloured mostly in white and light grey.  A TV mounted on the wall opposite stared blankly at him and a small desk with a computer on it was to his right.  Between the TV and computer was the door that led to the rest of his flat and just to the left of the TV was his bathroom.  Covering most of the wall on his left was a large window with the dark grey curtains drawn.
    Sam looked at the chest of drawers on his left where the clock informed him that it was 19:49 5th December 2114.  He couldn’t remember falling asleep but he had been sleeping a lot lately, mostly because he didn’t have much to do since he lost his job a month ago.
His bedroom was rather dark, he used his inquisitive mind to deduce that this was probably because it was a December evening and his lights were off.  Sam picked up the remote next to his clock and used it to open the curtains, letting him know that it was raining quite heavily.
He got out of bed, walked over to his large window and meticulously drew a slow spiral in the condensation that engulfed the glass, then wiped it away and gazed at the world through the hole he had made.
    From over twenty storeys up the city of London looked more beautiful than he knew it to be.  Sam could see the wide roads overflowing with electric cars and just about make out the few pedestrians there still were, walking along the pavements and crossing the various footbridges over the river of traffic.  People rarely walked anywhere and if they did it wasn’t for very long because of both the size of modern cities and how cheap cars had become in recent years.  
Sam began to wonder about all the people below him and how there were so many of them living their own relatively important lives with their own different views and personalities.  He liked to imagine what they dreamed of and whether they came true for anyone down there.  Sam suddenly found himself feeling rather sad at the thought of never having met all these varied interesting people who had lived so close to him all these years and probably never will.
    As he thought about his rapidly arriving future, the notion that his phone was ringing suddenly dawned on him, so he turned away from the window for now and picked up the phone next to his bed.
    “Yes?” said Sam.
    “Mr. Morgan this is Dr. Phelps,” replied the voice.  “I’m just calling to tell you that a car is on its way to take you to our headquarters.”  Sam looked at his clock; it was already 20:01.
    “OK, I’ll be ready by then, but I’m still not completely sure what this job involves,” said Sam.
    “I’m sorry for the secrecy Mr. Morgan,” Dr. Phelps said, “but we didn’t want you talking to anyone about the details of your new job.  After you have arrived at our facility there will be a final briefing explaining exactly what your duties will be, at which point you may decline the job offer if you so wish but I recommend you accept, considering your substantial compensation.”  The voice on the other end went silent and Sam put the phone down.  He turned the TV onto the BBC 24hr news channel as he went into the bathroom, leaving the door open so he could hear the television.
    “Reports were received today that the European police have captured known terrorist Seymour Garrett in the French province of Europe.  A gunfight occurred last night in a hotel in Marseille where two policemen and four of Garrett‘s associates were killed, the criminal is currently on his way to a detention facility of an undisclosed location.”
    Sam started to think about whether he was doing the right thing or not, about to accept a position he knew next to nothing about.  All he did know, according to the e-mail he got last week from the Olympus Corporation, was that it had something to do with his computer science degree and required him to move away for five years.
    Sam left the bathroom semi-convinced that it was an intelligent thing to do going with some people he had never met to a place he had never been to have an ‘interview’ for a job he had never heard of.  He was sure that if he had longer to think about it he probably would have backed out but for the time, he was being distracted by a small black and grey striped kitten, which was sitting on his bed and watching his television.  He was sure that he had closed his bedroom door last night but now it was wide open, Sam had bought the cat over a fortnight ago out of boredom and still hadn’t named him.
    While preparing to get dressed he got another chance to think more about the situation in which he had found himself.  The Olympus Corporation was a respectable global company that had factories and offices all over the world but was based here in London.  It was originally involved in the production of pharmaceuticals and computing technology.  However, they had grown so much in their journey to become a global power that the occupation they were advertising could be anything.
    In these more civilised times there were no such thing as countries in the traditional sense, all national governments had long since been dissolved and only their husks remain in the form of little more than land masses.  The notion of patriotism is dead and considered archaic, wars are now fought between the mercenary armies of the companies and politics has just become another business.  The only form of government that still exists is that of the continental unions that police each of their own sections of the Earth and make sure the corporations stay in line.  Outright conflict is rare between the companies, as they prefer to focus on making money rather than wars, which are expensive and therefore, not profitable.
    Sam, now fully clothed, turned back to his cat and said, “I suppose you’re hungry then?  C’mon, let’s get you something to eat before I leave.”  As he walked past the TV on his way out of the room, he noticed the Olympus logo of an inverted V within a circle on it.  That was one of the reasons he felt that it was probably a real interview, no one would dare impersonate the Olympus Corporation because they were one of the most powerful companies in the world, the vast majority of the world’s population used at least some Olympus Corp. products.
    After turning off the television Sam walked, followed by the cat, through the door and into his kitchen/living room.  He quickly opened a kitchen cabinet and brought out a packet of Harpet’s cat food, which he opened and put in a bowl for his feline flatmate.
As he watched the little kitten hungrily wolf down the food, he realised that he should probably eat something also but he was too nervous.  He settled on getting a can of coke (because some companies never die) out of his fridge and drinking that.
    Before he could finish, the doorbell went.  He walked swiftly over to his door and turned on the vid-link to see a man and woman wearing the dark green padded jackets and berets of the Olympus security force waiting for him downstairs.
    “Hello?” Sam said.
    “Mr. Morgan, we have orders to escort you to Olympus headquarters,” the female one said.
    “OK, I’ll be down in a minute,” Sam replied.
    Samuel Morgan turned off the vid-link, said bye to his cat and left that day to find out what his future was.  The lift that he used to get down to ground level was an unattractive mesh construct that made an unsettling whirring noise which always caused Sam to listen out for the part when the noise stops and he plummets to his death.  Nevertheless, since it didn’t happen this time, just like all the other times he had used it, he got out of the lift and proceeded to the main entrance of his building.
    The two figures were waiting there for him, still as statues.  The man gestured to a silver van behind them with tinted windows but without the Olympus markings that Sam was expecting.  The side of the van slid open and he was ‘helped’ into the back of the van by the tall male one, Sam could not help but feel nervous when he noticed the pistols strapped to their legs as they closed the door.
    The guards themselves got into the front of the van, clearly they were not being paid to be conversationalists.  As the male one started up the van a garbled message, which Sam couldn’t quite make out, came through on the female’s wrist-radio.  
Anyhow her quick response was “I understand, the package has been acquired, ETA is 20 minutes.”  Then she said to her subordinate, “Hurry up Halliday, we’re behind schedule.”  The one known as ‘Halliday’ nodded and went back to driving.
    One of the many reasons that Sam would not have made a good security enforcer was because he never could understand a single word uttered from one of those radios.  Also he was not good with conflict, following orders and he was sure that he would look ridiculous in a beret.  
He had actually half-seriously thought about what it would be like; it was probably more exciting than the average day job.  They were very well paid by the companies but Sam never had the courage to apply, he was afraid he would just be laughed away.  
He had after all no experience and not even any eagerness to learn to make up for it.  Plus carrying a gun around all day at work was bound to make him very nervous that he would forget to put the safety on and blow a hole in his leg when he went to holster it, which would not only be embarrassing, it would hurt.
    Sam was no soldier he was a writer, or at least he liked to think so, in reality he had had very little published.  Most of his writing that he was paid for was articles for the less-than-liberal media on how crime rates were plummeting every year thanks to new measures being put in place or how great the education system had become in recent years.  
Any lies that they wanted he was willing to write, he liked to convince himself that it wasn’t for the money but because these articles made people feel safer and happier so how could that be a bad thing to make people happy.  However, he wasn’t completely lying to himself, he really didn’t write these articles for the money.  In reality, the money was tiny.  He just liked seeing his name in print.
    Back in 2111 Samuel Morgan was the name on the cover of a new book of short stories that a small company had agreed to publish.  It actually didn’t do too badly; he had received a lot of positive response from it, which made Sam feel very proud.  Sam really wanted that feeling again so in most of his spare time he had been writing, this time he really wanted to get a novel published.
The problem was not coming up with good ideas, Sam never suffered from writers block and hence didn’t believe in it, his problem was the opposite.  He had many great ideas but every time he wrote them down he had found out that they had already been done.  
Sam was desperate for something original, sometimes he wished that he had been born in a different time period, perhaps a hundred years ago before all the good ideas were already taken.
    Sam could tell they were travelling closer to the centre of the city, as the buildings on either side of them were steadily becoming taller and taller.  They were now surrounded by skyscrapers, with enormous screens mounted on their sides, advertising all the new goods and services of various companies.
    He could also see the huge crowds of citizens filling the pavements and crossing the roads.  The pouring rain was doing very little to diminish their massive number.
To pay the bills Sam had, until recently, worked as a computer repairman for a small business but after that was bought out by the Magna Conglomerate last month and they decided that he was no longer necessary, he had become unemployed.  To tell the truth, he had liked the fact that he had had more time to work on his writing.  He had written many new short stories just no novels, until now he’d been living on the money from his book that he had saved but that was running out rapidly.  He knew that he had to start looking for a new job, and then he was sent this e-mail advertising an opportunity that he found very attractive.  
If it was telling the truth, this mystery job meant that it involved a trip that would last for five years.  It sounded like it would be perfect for him to get some writing done and at the end of it; he will be given enough money that he won’t have to work another day in his life.  
The message did probably exaggerate the position but he found it too inviting to pass up.  It did make him a little suspicious that this job offer came at a time when he really needed work and that it sounded like his dream job.  He would have to remind himself to ask these questions when and if this interview occurred.
    He could make out the Olympus building now, even in the raining night.  It wasn’t difficult, seeing as it was the tallest building in the world, consisting of 111 storeys.  Sam kept his eyes focussed on this huge black and silver tower at least four times the height of his building.
It was so tall that he couldn’t see the top of it from where he sat in the van; however, he could see the giant green neon Olympus symbol halfway up the building.  Sam liked looking at the bright city lights in the rain of night, the way each droplet refracted the colourful light as they fell gave the usually grave urban environment a wavy texture that reminded him of being in a dream.
    As the van pulled up to the well-lit plaza, Sam observed the impressive titanium statue in its centre of Prometheus with his hands on fire gazing up at the heavens.  Sam thought it to be a strange statue; perhaps it signified that Olympus was prepared to do what was necessary for progress to occur.  He didn’t have any more time to contemplate the metal titan as the van door slid open and the two guards brought him out.  
They escorted him silently up the steps and through the large Perspex automatic doors of the Olympus building and into the beige reception.  While Halliday stood still next to Sam, the female guard approached the desk where another Olympus security guard was sitting.
    “Sergeant, we have a Samuel Morgan here at Dr. Phelps’ request,” she said.
    “Yes captain, the doctor is expecting you,” he replied.  “Proceed to floor 85 and take the package to him.”
    Sam didn’t have much time to ponder how he felt about being referred to as ‘the package’ because he was quickly whisked away in the direction of the lifts.  He did have time, however, to get a quick look at the rest of the lobby.  Its most distinguishing feature was that there were dozens of other armed guards in it who didn’t appear to be doing much, just waiting.  
After visiting the Olympus headquarters Sam changed his opinion on how exciting being in the Security Forces of the companies seemed.  Most of it appeared to be just waiting around.  Who knew that a security guard spent most of the time just guarding things?  Maybe they were paid so much because you needed the mental constitution to put up with the boredom; even his old computer job seemed much more interesting by comparison.
    Halliday remained in the lobby and the female guard ushered him into one of the many quite large and very modern lifts.  There was another guard already waiting whose job description seemed comprised solely of pressing the elevator buttons for people.  
Sam always hated going up dozens of floors in these express lifts, the initial acceleration made him feel as if he had been suddenly transported to Jupiter for a few seconds leaving him feeling very nauseous and disorientated.
    The silent ascension in the curved metallic lift was the point in time when Sam was certain that this was genuine.  He was actually in Olympus headquarters so the job must be real and they could certainly afford the impressive salary that he was being offered.  Even though he continued to be quite curious in finding out properly why he was here, he still had this very real feeling ever since he first received the e-mail that he was going to accept this job.
    “We’re here,” the female guard said as the red number above the doors glowed 85, “please follow me.”  The metal doors slid open and Sam’s guide escorted him forwards, walking with him to make sure he didn’t wander anywhere he wasn’t supposed to go.
    The 85th floor looked like the place where the Olympus Corporation manufactured their light.  The walls and floor were gleaming white, illuminated by a ceiling that appeared to be made of nothing but lights.  He was led by his guide rapidly through the glowing corridors before he was given a chance to properly admire the beauty of his surroundings.  
There was a large enclosed lab in the centre that Sam did not get a chance to see with one long corridor surrounding it like a moat protecting the scientific secrets of the Olympus Corporation.  On the other side of the corridor was row upon row of offices.  Samuel Morgan and Nameless Henchman (or Henchwoman, Sam was not sure what the correct term was and really didn’t care) approached the largest office, on the wall furthest away from the lift, which had some words neatly imprinted on the door:

Olympus Head of Science
Dr. Victor Phelps

    Nameless Henchman pressed the buzzer next to the frosted glass door.  The translucent door suddenly became transparent and Sam could see a mainly white office with a balding grey-bearded man sitting behind a desk while working on his computer.  He then observed the man press a button on his desk, which caused the door to slide open.
    “Please come in Mr. Morgan,” he said to Sam.  “You may leave us Angelica,” he said to Nameless Henchman.  She disappeared down the corridor as Sam walked into the room and Dr. Phelps pushed the button again, causing the door to close behind him.  
Sam could see a chessboard on his desk, it was obvious that Dr. Phelps was in the middle of playing a game but it wasn’t obvious who his invisible opponent was.  “Please take a seat Mr. Morgan and I’ll work on giving us some privacy.”
    As Sam went to sit down Dr. Phelps pressed a second button on his desk that caused the glass door to become frosted again.  Sam turned his attention back to Dr. Phelps who was smiling at him.  “Why are you here Mr. Morgan?” he said to Sam.
    “Err,” Sam struggled.  “You asked me here Dr. Phelps, don’t you remember?  I was told about a job and invited for an interview.”
    “But why did you come?” Phelps inquired.  “You knew nothing about why you were asked to come here and yet here you are ready and willing.  Why do you think that is?”
    “Curiosity I suppose,” said Sam.  “If there is a possibility for something good to happen in your life you shouldn’t be afraid to take a chance in order to be happy.”
    “I guess you’re right Mr. Morgan.  Now please let me tell you about why you are really here,” Phelps said as he produced a piece of paper from his desk.  “But before I do that I’m afraid that first you must sign this form swearing that whatever you are told in this meeting will remain in the strictest confidence.  You must tell no one of the information that you are about to receive as it could be potentially harmful to the company.”
    Sam couldn’t see why not so he said, “Okay” as Dr. Phelps handed him a pen.  At the top of form, Sam could see the title of the Olympus Corporation.  Within the first ‘O’, an inverted ‘V’ was contained, forming their corporate logo.  As he signed his name, he noticed that Olympus Corp. made even the pen he was holding.
    When he finished Dr. Phelps snatched the form away, stored it back in his desk and said, “Right, now that that’s out of the way I can tell you what we want you to do for us.  You see, as you are probably aware the Olympus Corporation has many valuable business contracts all over the world that supplement our annual income quite vastly.  None of which provide us with more money however than the lucrative European prison contract that other companies would quite literally kill for.”
    “Yes, it’s common knowledge that all the prisons in Europe are owned and operated by Olympus,” said Sam.
    “Wrong,” responded Dr. Phelps.  “This is the public misconception that we encourage among the populace, you will most likely be surprised to learn that there are no detention facilities in Europe at all.  There are many people in this world and the number is increasing exponentially, which means that the number of criminals is following a similar trend.  Europe is the most densely populated of all the Continental Unions, do you have any idea how much it would cost to build and maintain all those prisons?”
    “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Sam admitted.
    “Well, you see,” started Phelps, “less than 30 years ago there was a crisis in Europe, all the jails were overflowing to the point of bursting from the strain and the European Parliament could no longer handle the situation.  They offered up control of the prisons to the corporations.  This caused much fighting between the companies, as they were all vying for the contract, even though the company that got it would actually lose money.”
    “Why would that be?” Sam asked.
“This is because that after all the necessary prisons had been built; they would need to be run efficiently and maintained by many employees, who would all require salaries.  This cost was more than Parliament was prepared to offer the company who took this contract in terms of payment.  However, the companies still fought hard for it because of the publicity, the corporation that handled the prison contract would be very well known and get many other contracts because of this.  The Olympus Corporation actually owes its success to this contract, it is the primary reason why we are not just the largest company in Europe but also why we are one of the most powerful in the world.”
    “If there are no prisons in Europe, where do you place all the people who are given a custodial sentence for their crimes?” asked Sam.
    “The answer to that question is also the same reason why we beat the other companies who also wanted the opportunity,” said Dr. Phelps.  “The original, and highly disturbing, solution was to create death camps in the few remote places left on the continent like the Nazi’s of old.  These were to be places where people who broke the law were shipped off to be executed en masse.  It was thought by the head of the company that this would not only be much cheaper but that it would also help with the overcrowding in cities that had been a problem for a while.”
    “That certainly is grim, by the way who is the head of Olympus?” Sam asked.
    “The term ‘Head’ is just an expression,” Phelps explained, “who really runs Olympus is much more complicated.  It is an intricate system that involves boards and sub-committees and, of course, the shareholders.  Even I do not fully understand it; I am a scientist after all, not a businessman.  Anyway back to the death camps, this idea was quickly shot down when presented to the Parliament, as they unsurprisingly would not budge on the official continental wide anti-capital punishment law that was passed in 2029.  Then I proposed another plan a few months later, actually, at the time I was further down in the company and I had just completed an artificial intelligence experiment in which a new generation of supercomputer was born.  My proposal which would satisfy the needs of everyone involved is the reason why I’m sitting in this office right now.”
    “So what was this monumental plan to solve the prison crisis?” Sam pressed.
    “I suggested the creation of just one prison to house the entire European convict population,” continued Phelps.  “You’re probably wondering how that would solve the problem.  Imagine an immense prison construct, bigger than anyone has conceived of in history and run perfectly by just one infallible computer.  That means no staff has to be hired at all and as for controlling the prisoners and providing adequate facilities for them, no need.  Before all prisoners arrive they’re placed into a chemically induced coma and stored in the facility until the day their natural life runs out.”
    “This doesn’t sound so different from the death camps,” Sam said with a look of concern across his face.
    “Bear in mind Mr. Morgan that this facility is for the most depraved individuals who have given up their privilege of living in civilised society,” Phelps said.  “Please let me elaborate, when we approached the European Parliament with this idea and they granted us the contract over 25 years ago we convinced them that when a person commits a serious crime they should be examined by a qualified criminal psycho-analyst.  If they judge that this person is likely to re-offend then they are imprisoned in our facility away from the rest of society.  However, if they are judged that this was a one-off then they would probably just get a fine and some community service as if it were a minor offence.  Some rights may also be forfeit for a certain amount of time.  Then if it turns out that the examination was wrong and the person did re-offend then off they go to the facility with no more warnings.  This system ensures that only those who truly deserve to be imprisoned are and keeps the number of spaces still available to a maximum.”
    “What if the initial examination was wrong when he was labelled as a re-offender and in fact if he was let off, he would go on to be a perfect law-abiding citizen.  You’ve just taken a persons life away from him for no reason,” Sam realised aloud.
    “No system is perfect but at least with this one all dangerous peoples are removed from the rest of the population and with this zero tolerance policy for re-offenders, violent crime is at an all time low,” said Phelps.  “Recently we’ve even started taking on lifers from other continents, their governments don‘t know or even care where they go as long as they’re out of their overcrowded prisons.”
    “Wait,” Sam said, looking more shocked than ever.  “This can’t be true, I refuse to believe that there are no detention facilities in the whole of Europe and there is just one big Omni-prison that no one knows about.  I mean, how could you keep it a secret for 25 years and where on Earth would you hide it?”
    “Not Earth,” announced Phelps.  “The Moon.”
    “This prison is on the Moon?” Sam said incredulously.  
    “Well actually it’s a space station located around the dark side of the Moon,” Phelps explained.  “Well we don’t want just anyone who could afford a halfway powerful telescope to stumble upon it in the sky and start asking questions.”
    “This sounds like huge news if you’re telling the truth, what’s to stop me from telling everyone about this?” Sam queried.
    “The contract you signed Mr. Morgan,” Phelps replied.  “Have you forgotten, if you were to breach contract then you would be breaking the law and I thought that I had already enlightened you onto where criminals really go.”
    Sam suddenly found himself feeling rather frightened, then he remembered himself and said, “I don’t see how this can be legal, you’re basically killing people as soon as you place them in that coma if they never wake up.  How could Parliament decline the death camps and approve this when it’s pretty much the same thing?”
    “I agree with you Mr. Morgan but, as it turns out, governments love loop-holes,” Dr. Phelps said, smiling again.  “The station is named Celestia and it is controlled by the Hypnos computer I invented 28 years ago, Parliament liked it as it kept the population down but didn’t technically break the law.”
    “Why did you bring me here to tell me these unsettling things?” Sam asked, “I just wanted a job.”
    “The truth is often unsettling, that is why only a small few in the world know it,” Phelps said.  “The rest of the people get the luxury of not knowing how the world really works and that makes them happy, but people like you and me have to forego that privilege because our job is to make sure things keep on working.  That is why you are here today because, as I said, no system is perfect.  Even though I insist that the chance of anything going wrong with Hypnos is literally trillions to one, and even that mistake would only be something clerical and harmless, the European Parliament were quite adamant that there should be a human in Celestia at all times.  We need a computer technician to live there in case Hypnos does need to be repaired in any way.”
    “So that’s the job you want me for?” Sam said.
    “That’s correct Mr. Morgan,” said Phelps.  “Celestia became fully operational on the 17th of December 2089 and during each five year period there has been a technician watching over Hypnos.  The current technician is coming to the end of his employment and we need someone to replace him, if you agree you will live in Celestia for five years and at the end of that time period you will be well compensated.”
    “Will I be given the amount of money it said in the e-mail?” Sam asked.
    “Every penny,” Dr. Phelps clarified.  “Think about it Samuel, with that kind of money you wouldn’t have to work another day in your life, you could spend the rest of your days focussing on your writing.”
    “How did you know I was a writer?” Sam inquired.
    “Give us a little credit Mr. Morgan,” Phelps said jokingly.  “Do you really think we would let someone in on the most intimate secrets of the Olympus Corporation without doing a complete background check?  We also needed to find the best person for the job and you seemed perfect.  As soon as another tech is up in the sky we begin looking for the next one, find a list of potentials and spend those five years narrowing them down to the one who would suit this rather unique job best.  We have had our eyes on you for some time, didn’t you think it was a little strange that a mysterious e-mail came along when you needed a job.  We had to make sure that you had been unemployed for a while so that you would consider the job.”
    “But the business I worked for was bought out by the Magna Conglomerate, one of your rivals and then I was made redundant, how could you have foreseen that?” Sam demanded.
    “Magna is owned by Olympus,” Phelps explained, “a little known fact that they were bought out by us shortly after we achieved the prison contract.”
    “Oh,” Sam didn’t really know what to say after that, he also didn’t know whether to feel violated or flattered that someone had been paying so much attention to him.  He then said, “You’re being quite honest with me, telling me that you’ve been monitoring me for so long and then asking me if I want this job.  Aren’t you worried that letting me know that you have been spying on me might affect my decision to work for you people?”
    “Well, I’ve revealed more shocking information than that to you tonight,” Phelps said.  “What’s a bit more?  Anyway, if you were to let something as minor as that affect this big choice then that might affect my decision to offer you the job.  When you make your decision, base it on what’s best for you Sam.  As you said, you shouldn’t be afraid to take a chance that could lead to your happiness and the money that we will give you will bring your happiness.  Don’t listen to the people who claim that money cannot make you happy, those are the words of people who have never had wealth.  The truth is that actually you can buy happiness…but you can’t buy a cure for misery.  Now young Samuel, tell me what you think of my proposal?”
    “It does sound tempting,” admitted Sam.  “Hypothetically if I did take this offer what exactly would I have to do?”
    “Of course you would need to sign the employment contract first which ensures that you will tell no one about this job once your employment has been terminated, it also guarantees your wages after five years,” said Dr. Phelps.  “Once you have arrived at our facility your duty will primarily consist of monitoring Hypnos’ condition daily, reporting any anomalies to us here on Earth and repairing the Hypnos computer to the best of your abilities if anything were to go wrong with his CPU.  But don’t worry, in all the years he has been operational no technician has reported a single anomaly and he has never needed anything fixed.”
    “He?” Sam said suddenly.
    “I’m sorry?” Dr. Phelps said.
    “You just referred to the computer as a “He” rather than an “It”, why?” Sam wanted to know.
    “I’m sorry, slip of the tongue,” Phelps said.  “But believe me, when you meet Hypnos you’ll be calling him that too.  Hypnos isn’t like any other computer that has existed before him; soon computers like him will be running corporations like this.  He is not only extremely intelligent but he also has a personality.  During the time of the project, we discovered that in order to create a computer of an even greater intellect than the ones you are familiar with, they needed to be able to think for themselves.  This would enable them to improvise so that it could tackle a problem that it was not initially programmed to, simply by learning from experience.  But in order for a computer to have this very human trait we needed to install a personality for it to work.”
    “So what kind of personality did you give to this “Hypnos”?”  Sam asked.
    “I’m afraid it’s not quite that simple,” Phelps explained.  “There are two defining features that create what kind of person you will be.  First, there are the genes that you gain from your parents, then there is all that you have experienced since you have been alive.  In reality there is no nature vs. nurture, it is more a case of the two working together to create a new and unique kind of person.  I acted as Hypnos’ father, giving him the material on which to base his personality.  However, since then, Hypnos has been on a space station for 25 years spending five years each with five different techs and experiencing there varied personalities.  Now he has become just like any other human you could encounter, only better.  If you go to stay with him for five years, you will also probably have an effect on shaping Hypnos’ opinions and personality for the future.  I do have one last item to bring up about this job though.”
    “Which is?” said Sam.
    “The fact that we were forced to place a human technician in Celestia turned out to be a stroke of luck,” said Phelps.  “At the time we forgot to take into account that an entity with a personality would obviously feel emotions.  Do you have any idea what kind of psychological effect being alone on a space station for the last 25 years would cause?  We didn’t either and luckily, we never found out.  Loneliness is one of the worst emotions a person can feel, worse than betrayal and regret combined.  Hypnos has become a person and something like that could have destroyed his sanity.  25 years later it has been virtually established that nothing is going to go wrong with the Hypnos computer, the tech position has now morphed into mostly keeping him company.”
    Sam found that last remark fascinating; this machine sounds like it’s more sensitive than he is.  “Have you told me everything I need to know?” he asked.
    “I’m pretty sure that covers it,” Phelps said. “Have you made your decision Mr. Morgan?”
    During every moment of this highly intense and revealing ‘interview’ (for lack of a better word) the feeling that Sam was going to accept this job had remained.  If anything, Dr. Phelps’ description of this AI construct had only intensified his curiosity, at that instant Sam wondered if Hypnos ever felt curious too.
    Sam had decided that meeting this intelligent entity was an opportunity he couldn’t pass on.  Before he could accept there was really only one more question he required an answer to so he asked it: “Can I bring my cat?”