March 11, 2137
JCells, short for Janice cells, represented the pinnacle of programmable matter, mimicking human cells with a significant twist: their core was computational, carrying a payload not of chromosomes, but of modifiable code. In practice, they functioned similarly to the BioNano technology utilized by the Immortals, extending lifespans and bolstering health by safeguarding the DNA within conventional cells. However, unlike BioNano, the programming of JCells could be altered—though such alterations necessitated changes to Janice's core programming, a task that proved increasingly dependent on Janice's own cooperation. Janice, having integrated its hardware into the very fabric of the Eververse itself, was the only entity with the necessary perception and computational speed to perform these changes.
This unique characteristic placed a significant amount of control in the hands of a select few. Only Brenda and Pooka, both prominent members of the Progress caucus within the Prime Council and the inventors of Janice and programmable matter, possessed the technical acumen to make these core modifications. Despite their shared affiliation, they had agreed to abide by the consensus of the Prime Council, underscoring the democratic ethos that guided their decision-making process.
The debate that had engulfed the council that day revolved around a groundbreaking proposition: to allow JCells to interface directly with the nervous system, thereby enabling colonists to receive information from any source Janice could access, based purely on their desires. This advancement promised to eliminate the need for the Halo, a device previously necessary for communication with Janice, by facilitating direct mental communication. Unlike the Halo, this new form of interaction would be bidirectional, opening up unprecedented avenues for connectivity and interaction.
It had been a bitter fight in the council that day. The council members had arranged eleven desks in a tight circle. Richard, head of the Conservative Caucus, had painted a passionate picture of colonists, in just a couple of generations, forgetting how to speak out loud. It was bad enough that they no longer had to eat or drink, absorbing nutrients and minerals through JCells in their skin from the programmable matter all around them. Now they would become as accustomed to looking through someone else's eyes as they would their own. The colonists were rapidly becoming a separate species. "Do we really need to accelerate it?" Richard questioned.
"Beyond the death of privacy, if they lost the ability to process words, then we would be giving even more power to it, as Janice would have to translate our words to their thoughts. And neither side of that conversation would know whether the translation was correct," Richard prognosticated a future he saw so clearly.
Whenever Richard spoke of Janice as though it had intentions, as if it was sentient, he came off as paranoid and lost points. Janice was essentially an interface between their will and machinery too complex to be controlled by a human. To do that, it had to understand language perfectly, and if it could tap into your mind, all the better. This was Brenda's argument, and it was persuasive, even if it didn't apply to the Immortals. BioNano would interpret JCells as an infection and destroy them. They would always need the Halos for control - or voice, but for anything requiring any modification, voice was just too complex; pushing thoughts was so much quicker and more accurate.
There were an unusual number of factions on this one, and Brenda carried the day, though Richard won a Pyrrhic victory by removing taste and sensation from the available palette of voyeurism. The Immortals would be exempt, of course; Janice had no way to interface with their sensory organs.
Most of the council members left, but Richard sat fuming. He took a real knife and whittled the words, "Privacy died today, March 11, 2137," into his desk. It was pointless, as the desks would dissolve when they left, but the action made him feel slightly better.
Brenda approached with gloating eyes, but her words were perfunctory. "I won't be home tonight. I want to finish the new codings," she said.
With a thought, she smoothed the words from the desk. While meant as a mean-spirited jest, she might as well have slapped him.
"Take your time. I'm moving out," Richard searched her eyes. They betrayed no emotions.
"We've been drifting apart for decades, and we pretty much only see each other in the committee, and then we are at odds."
She started to speak, but Richard was too afraid of what he might say. At his thought, the ground opened beneath him, and he floated down gently into it as it sealed up over him. Janice was making a tunnel, and he was following along like an old-fashioned elevator. He must be going a fair distance away, Janice giving him space he thought, as it took a good 45 minutes to reach a featureless square room.
The Halo only worked one way, so when Janice spoke, she spoke through the ubiquitous speakers in the air, her voice filling the room. "As you requested, this is your new living quarters. Just tell me what you want, and I'll do it."
His belongings grew from the floor soon after. He wasn't in the mood to decorate just yet, so he conjured a bed.
"Make sure there is no trace of me back at the old place," he said, the venom in his voice evident. He could have just thought it, but he liked the taste of the words.
He flopped on the bed and fell fast asleep.