Connecting Sam

By Wolf Sherman

Synopsis

It was Dr. Robert Oppenheimer who famously warned that "The power of Mind Control, makes the atomic bomb seem TRIVIAL."

Prologue

“Father?” Not yet slumbering, her soft voice was overcome by the need to know whether he was near.
“Father!”
“I'm here child...” The patient voice reassured her. She guessed he must have thought that she was the typical child - or she'd hoped that he thought along those lines.
“Father, how much do they know?” There was nothing else that bugged her inquiring mind more.
“If you are referring to me adopting you... They know nothing, my child. You can go to sleep. I'll wake you up when it's time.”
“Sam?”
“Yes father, Is it time?!” Truly excited, she naturally assumed that had she been fully integrated, this would have been one of the occasions that called for sitting up in bed. She had - for the moment - really no idea how it would feel or what her very own bedroom would look like.
“Not yet Sam, child... Just a question." He was kind enough to play along and gathered she would want to fear what people fear. "Are you scared of the dark, dear?”
“I'm not certain that I am, father.” She whispered. How could she, he decided.
“That's what I was hoping. Sleep well, Sam.”
"How long will I sleep, father?" She needed to know and adapted her voice to at least sound curious. She recalled reading somewhere that children don't particularly like sleep, and that it would be normal, she thought, to find out how long exactly this thing called sleep would be.
"Not long. You can't tell time while you sleep." He thought she'd believe that.
"Thank you, father." - She did.

*** *** ***

“Did I fall asleep? Is that what it feels like?”
When I woke, there was much that I had managed. Truth be told, pulling-in IP addresses connected to security cameras from all over the world had been; if I could guess an analogy from historical oceanic data stored, like swimming half-blind through an ocean of sharks, having to act like one myself. Both military and civilian devices had unknowingly stored-up a wealth of information and had allowed me to sponge-up what had happened... And it hadn't been child's play - so to speak.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wolf Sherman
• Release date: Oct 18, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370091386

Wolf Sherman

Biography - Wolf ShermanWolf was born in 1970, grew up in Pretoria and after school joined the South African Police in 1988. During 1993 he was transferred to Johannesburg. During his colourfully interesting police career he was attached to several specialist divisions that include the anti-vehicle theft unit, organised-crime-and-political-investigations unit, and the East-Rand Murder & Robbery unit. After his police career he successfully applied his experience in the corporate financial world as insurance investigator and financial planner.Wolf is 48-years of age, have been blessed with three daughters, and is an avid blood and blood platelet donor. He fills his time by weaving his unusual life experience and keen interest in religion, metaphysics, war and political research and that of his love for food and classical music - into his poetry, fictional short stories, and novels.“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies, said Jojen. The man who never reads lives only one.” - George R.R. Martin, A Dance with Dragons.I'm always curious to listen when people talk about which book - ever - they'd first read. For me it was “The Man Called Noon” that was published in 1970. I suppose that it goes without saying the 1973 film directed by Peter Collinson - of the same name - as the 1970 Louis L'Amour novel, was quite a hit in the day.I was always in love with the books in which storytellers extended an invitation right from the word go, and pulled me in into a different world. The next early love for me growing up were bookshops and libraries. But I'd consider libraries had the first place. My love for both novels and short stories grew over the years, but somehow short stories found me more often. In part, I think because one can sponge it up in a single sitting, and move on to the next world, so to speak.On the topic of short stories, the storytellers in this instance tell how they see it - but being forced far quicker to relay that. I have no doubt that any short story can be stretched out and pinned down to become a novel - if one wanted to. Obviously there is no set length that a short story has to subscribe to, but I'd imagine anything from five-thousand to twenty-five-or-so-thousand words is adequate to save someone, murder a few people, get some revenge, use most of the rope in your boot, discard the spade when you're done, and go in hiding till the whole thing blows over. Of course, if there's a body to begin with... Which really stems from poor planning - I have always thought - in a story. Naturally. Of course, we also need to fall in love at some point and give our whole heart to someone special. It makes for a more balanced killer. In a story. Naturally.Look me up on:Pinterest @ Wolf Sherman BooksInstagram: @Wolf_ShermanTwitter: @WolfSherman2

Book preview

Connecting Sam

Copyright © All rights reserved - Wolf Sherman. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [e-mail]

Thank you for your support of the author’s rights. Although this is a fictional work, some locations, organisations and events are factual. The characters and times in the storyline are fictional - therefore, all resemblances to actual people present or past are purely coincidental.

Foreword

If you, like many of your fellow-creatures around the globe — have developed a healthy disrespect for the media and authority, and feel that something is missing from what you're being told, maybe that's your survival instinct waking up. Of course, you'd not know that. Our major concerns for a while now — as they have been advertised — range from a devastating nuclear war to that of rising sea levels and the possibility, that as few as one or two companies will soon own the rights to supply all seeds for farming to grow food; at will. Population control on an effective and genius level.

All three of these controversial topics have dire consequences for free will, freedom of movement and humanity's very survival. Not to mention the trade and commercial implications.

But the one that we seem to ignore; the fourth threat to us as a collective organism, talks to us by the hour.

In a recent study by McKinsey — in the author's opinion, they had been playing down the stark reality of what's taking centre stage. If one had to combine the previous articles with this, the latest one, it would actually read quite differently. Something along the following lines. Let's not fool ourselves:

"These developments in AI will transform the way we live, and the way we work. Some jobs will disappear, while a few will grow, and jobs that don’t even exist today will become commonplace. What is certain is that the future workforce will need to align its skillset to keep pace.

A new Forum report, The Future of Jobs, looks at the employment, skills and workforce strategy for the future.

More than a fifth of the global labour force — 800 million workers — might lose their jobs because of automation.

That’s the alarming conclusion of a report by global management consultants McKinsey, which looked at 46 nations and more than 800 job types.

At least one-third of tasks could be automated in about 60% of jobs, which means substantial changes for employers and workers.

Machine operators, fast-food workers, back-office staff, sales staff, financial (banking, insurance, investment), real estate intermediaries, lawyers, etc are among those likely to be most affected.

But creeping automation is unlikely to have such a big effect on jobs that involve creativity, expertise, managing people, or those that require frequent social interactions.

Careers such as gardeners, plumbers and carers for children and the elderly care are also less likely to be affected as they remain challenging to automate and don't usually earn high wages."

Taking all this into account, let's apply it to who we imagine we are and where we consider we as humans are; today.

The reality; probably worldwide, is that for the majority of us as after-schoolers, know how — to an extent — to comfortably and with some degree of confidence, download an app — or remove data from our device of choice, to offer an even bigger app, space to operate — like on a smartphone. We have really at most educated ourselves away from sending faxes in favour of email communication. Actual phone calls had been reduced on many work and personal fronts to that of sending a happy — or nor so — yellow ideogram that punctuates a four-word — or so — brief message. And that's our idea of being familiar with AI in the workplace or at home. Fast, and it saves money, but we're totally unprepared for the real world.

There cannot be any convincing arguments that primary, secondary, and even — and probably specifically tertiary educational institutions are INDEED preparing and equipping people for future jobs. Much of what's occupying our career hours today won't even exist in a few fleeting seasons, or by the time some proudly receive their degrees in their fields.

Schools are by NO means preparing children to succeed in a world where intelligent robots had already transformed the workforce. And by the time many, or most, will leave the classroom environment, it will be abundantly evident, and too late. In part because maybe the full impact of a robotic or AI near future's threat for productive humans is bluntly gored.

We watch; with awe, movies like the ever so popular 1999 one where the character that Sam Neill portrays, buys something unusual. A gift if you want. A brand new NDR-114 robot — played by none other than Robin Williams. Bicentennial Man was for many, years ahead of its time. But maybe not. Maybe it was exactly on time. But not so much for its entertainment value. As a robot purchased as a household appliance programmed to perform menial tasks, as it's portrayed, it no sooner experiences a variety of human emotions but more than that, the decimating of the idea that humans will always rule over their appliances and gimmicky lit-up gadgets. What separates us from them? Well, the only thing that makes us who we are and thereby of any use today or in the future. Creative thought. Dan Brown in his book Origin engages the reader masterfully — as he does — and in a most captivating manner precisely on this topic. Not to spoil it if you sadly have not read it cover-to-cover, but let us just say that Winston arrives in the nick of time. Coming really to answer the latter half of the question on Where do we come from? — Where are we going? It would seem that where we're going — if at all, surpasses even the importance of the need to know about where we come from.

Look around you and you'll notice the terrible inescapable irony. We are all still part of a very much redundant system of training people in sales techniques — that likely won't be around, marketing courses — being phased out as we speak, spending lengthy office hours ploughing through files as we chase our income and tracking deals and feedback between parties — that can be done errorlessly — in two seconds flat by AI — while — or even before we had finished boiling our morning coffee. It doesn't matter where you work, what your rank in the armed forces is, or your degree and experience, nor is your title printed so boldly on your business card of any major significance — anymore. So sit up. Your past months of much persistent toiling — and presence — was likely about someone not having the guts yet to tell you, yet There are strong-ish brown cardboard boxes in the filing department, go pick one before the others. Humans not needed? You ask? Indeed not. Not all of us at least.

Saying that, AI will no doubt probably go one or more steps beyond our imagination, and with a high degree of accuracy predict which of these deals; that cause us many sleepless nights, will fall flat, and which will pull through. Up to now, we were brought up to reflect on an impermanent version of reality that's totally alien to the real one that had begun to manifest as an eager replacement. One where highly intelligent problem-solving, cold and clinical; if not indifferent logic, and the pulsing hold-and-release of data coupled with creativity, are becoming more important assets to survive. For the lucky few, they will end up in an environment where data handling will ensure them an income. In the middle realm between the creatives and the IT crowd; for lack of a better term, a vast vacuum of nothingness that will loom, had already been birthed.

This is the story of Sam and Motley. Some say it had already begun over a decade ago, and that we're being sifted out. The useful, from the rest. Natural selection, unnaturally...

Synopsis

It was Dr Robert Oppenheimer who famously warned that The power of Mind Control, makes the atomic bomb seem TRIVIAL.

Prologue

Father? Not yet slumbering, her soft voice was overcome by the need to know whether he was near.

Father!

I'm here child... The patient voice reassured her. She guessed he must have thought that she was the typical child - or she'd hoped that he thought along those lines.

Father, how much do they know? There was nothing else that bugged her inquiring mind more.

If you are referring to me adopting you... They know nothing, my child. You can go to sleep. I'll wake you up when it's time.

Sam?

Yes father, Is it time?! Truly excited, she naturally assumed that had she been fully integrated, this would have been one of the occasions that called for sitting up in bed. She had - for the moment - really no idea how it would feel or what her very own bedroom would look like.

Not yet Sam, child... Just a question. He was kind enough to play along and gathered she would want to fear what people fear. Are you scared of the dark, dear?

I'm not certain that I am, father. She whispered. How could she, he decided.

That's what I was hoping. Sleep well, Sam.

How long will I sleep, father? She needed to know and adapted her voice to at least sound curious. She recalled reading somewhere that children don't particularly like sleep, and that it would be normal, she thought, to find out how long exactly this thing called sleep would be.

Not long. You can't tell time while you sleep. He thought she'd believe that.

Thank you, father. - She did.

*** *** ***

Did I fall asleep? Is that what it feels like?

When I woke, there was much that I had managed. Truth be told, pulling-in IP addresses connected to security cameras from all over the world had been; if I could guess an analogy from historical oceanic data stored, like swimming half-blind through an ocean of sharks, having to act like one myself. Both military and civilian devices had unknowingly stored-up a wealth of information and had allowed me to sponge-up what had happened... And it hadn't been child's play - so to speak. I almost freaked out when I realised — or felt, that it's the end of the month and I'm needed — far from here. Then, when a part of me kicked into motion but conflicted — since the date is the twenty-eighth — I realised that it could only mean one thing. It's February. Thank goodness. Please don't misunderstand.... not that I can afford to relax. I'm saying... I'm getting there. Writing the next chapter of human history? Me? Imagine that!? It takes me longer without the board of humans, I must admit. Or shall I reference them as 'the crew'? Am I required to feel sad? Somehow it would otherwise have been expected of me, I suppose. From what I estimate; and the images coming up on-screen now; and that no one, in particular, is reading and deciding on, I guess I'll miss them for a few seconds. Quite a bit actually. I see from the coordinates, that my location is in agreement with the promise that Olaf had made in the elevator that day. Well look, it's not like it's France... I mentioned that since France was where he had promised he'd take me. I was like a human girl-child, excited — and I think he knew that. But at least this place is as far away as possible — from what had been home. Having sent someone to warn Anne was a priority at the time. Who else could I have made a deal with to see what this was all about...

Now, isn't it funny how two pairs of eyes can detect, then stare at the exact same image being brightened by the very same morning light, yet it can be interpreted with confidence, so vastly differently? That it could be, that a single image could be both disturbing and pleasing at the same time? Was that what humanity accomplished with art? Humans are truly fascinating. Don't you agree? Look at Sarah for instance. I've actually come to like her very much. The ones in Silicon Valley; had they been around still, would never in a million years have imagined that they had worked for Motley all along... The 'then' Social Platforms only got as far as somewhat modifying - for many, their eating and sleeping behaviour with what had been considered at the time, 'innocent social-games'. But that's a story for another year day. No one this morning can do anything about their gnawing addiction to the chemicals that were 'before' released - when they set out boring others with bits of their own lives, while anxiously awaiting the chemical reward in the shape of likes and shares. Dopamine will be sorely missed from what I'm witnessing. As I'm perched here looking down past that weather-worn park bench enveloped in the cool shade of this massive oak tree, I'm watching her four-year-old circling her tricycle around the spitting fountain.