Hearing Voices by Tony Harvey

It was about three weeks after the implants that the voices began. At first I ignored them, but as time went by they became more insistent and aggressive, frightening even. Nevertheless, it wasn't until one of them called me by name that I decided to go back to 'Implanco' and get some help, or at least some answers.

At the time it didn't feel like too much of a big deal. Some of my friends were getting implants, and from their testimonies I felt safe in booking my own place to be 'brought on-line'.

It was only recently that 'Implanco' had developed the new cochlear units and the corneal sheaths, up until now almost everyone else had been satisfied with bluetooths and palm screens. But with the launch of the new devices millions put their names down to be implanted.

It was an obvious next step. We had the technology now after a century of computer evolution to employ machines more and more in our lives. Artificial limbs and organs, being essentials, came first, and then the enhancements; new eyes and brain repairs, then the scandal of athletes and sportsmen using cybernetic alternatives to improve performance, in some cases entire arms or legs, even lungs.

But it wasn't until the nano-robots came onto the scene that things really speeded up. Suddenly everything changed, a giant leap in possibilities. These microscopic machines, each one an individually functioning computer, no bigger than an atom could work with alarming speed and efficiency. It was this technology which 'Implanco' used to change forever the way we communicate with each other.

As I wait in the foyer of the 'Implanco' offices for Dr Brecht to come out, my mind wanders back to the last time I was here, when I was actually implanted. I had expected a clinical, sterile experience. I was totally wrong. I was taken into his office by a short, South-American looking woman, who smiled efficiently and reassured me that it would only take a few minutes. I had then mistakenly assumed that this must be a first appointment, an assessment if you like.

Dr Brecht came in from a small side room in his office with two blunt syringes. Each one appeared to contain a milky fluid.

“Each of these syringes contains 50 million nano-robots and the 'plasmic gel' fluid required to build the implants. When I insert them, one into your ear the other into your dominant eye, it takes approximately 15 seconds for the implants to be constructed and attached. Shortly after that you can use them.”

“Does it hurt?” I asked rather pathetically.

“No more than a brief itching in your inner ear, and possibly, a feeling similar to a trapped eyelash, for a second or two in your eye. After which the nano-robots are excreted out, together with any excess gel.”

It went as Dr Brecht had said. Only brief discomfort and then far greater illumination and sensory enhancement than I could ever have imagined. I heard a sultry voice issuing a welcome message in my ear and a tiny blue light ticked away in the corner of my field of vision. It took a few days to adjust to the controls on my corneal screen, and controlling it with various subtle adjustments of my eyeball, but after some practice it became a part of me. When I flicked the eye system on, a semi-transparent screen layout appeared in mid-air about 12 inches in front of me. This screen was the gateway to any communication or information I could ever need. I spent the first couple of weeks watching old movies and cartoons from the early 21st century.

I would quite happily have gone on like this indefinitely, except one morning I was woken up by a faint noise, how I would imagine a tinnitus buzz would sound, had the condition not been eradicated over 40 years ago. Initially I thought perhaps I needed to do a system check, and was about to do this when underneath the buzzing a faint sound of voices came through. I flicked on the vid screen and scanned for connections, but I wasn't connected to anything apparently. I pulled up the cochlear options menu and filtered out the static and white noise.

...is that you...can you hear me... acknowledge...

It was like listening to someone at the other end of a very long tube, the words were relatively clear, but the gender and age of the speaker were very hard to distinguish.

As I said earlier, this continued with increasing regularity, and increasing levels of anxiety and frustration on the part of the speaker, until the one morning just as I climbed into the shower.

As yet it had been a static and voice free few days, then without warning...

Pip...? Pip...? You must answer...time is running out...

Very close by. As if the speaker were right by me.

I almost slipped and fell. The voice was now calling me by name! It could be a coincidence, I suppose, except that I now recognised the owner of the voice. My father. Except of course, my father had been dead for almost 15 years.

“Dad ?” I asked, tentatively. “Dad...is that you ?” Insane of course, this must just be some kind of mis-directed communication. Pip is a pretty common name these days. I waited for a response, anything, but nothing came back. It was like that with the voices, almost as if the signal strength was erratic and phasing in and out. I quickly brought up the stats on the message, but the system could only tell me that the caller was not registered or authorised to use the system, and advised me to block future incomings from this source. I hesitated over the confirm button with my gaze for a second and was about to click when...

Pip...it's me, Dad...i'm ok...Listen you have to...not long left...

Then nothing.

Now sat here once again, waiting for Dr Brecht, I could believe I had imagined it all, or at least exaggerated some of it, to myself. The incident in the shower was yesterday, and I had expected to wait at least a month or two for an appointment, but I suppose if there were any faulty units they needed to deal with them a.s.a.p.

“Pip, how are you? Do come in.” Dr Brecht came out to greet me himself. As we walked across to his office he spoke quietly to me,

“Now there are one or two of my colleagues who wish to be present during your appointment, I'm sure you have no objection, of course absolute confidentiality is assured.”

He spoke quickly, and left no room for right of reply or question, his arm around my shoulder almost pushing me into his office.

As we entered, the three 'colleagues' stood and smiled. I felt the door close firmly behind me. Suddenly I felt trapped. Dr Brecht introduced them, obscure foreign sounding names. From the side room a contraption with hanging wires and cables was dragged in.

“Now Pip. I have to inform you that what you have been experiencing with your 'implanco' unit is quite singularly unique. Due to the nature of these systems, they are just not supposed to do what you are telling us.”

He glanced around at the the three others and then turned to me again,

“We have been surveilling you and the system remotely for the past few days. Psych tests have been carried out and your state of mind is 73% sound.”

Only 73, Christ that means that I am one quarter Bats!

He continued,

“When you received the call yesterday we were aware of it at the same time as you. It was traced, as far as was possible using the central communication hub. However, what we have to tell you is rather hard to explain, and probably even harder to believe.”

He paused and glanced again at the other men in the room.

“It would appear...that your implant, and only yours in the whole world, has somehow become unglued from the reality of this world. Let me explain, when nano-technology was developed, we found that only very occasionally, because of the incredibly small scale of the science, tiny little holes in reality were created. Little gaps we call 'membranes of quantum superposition' or 'branes' appeared. These 'branes' were gaps where access to other places could be found. However, they were incredibly unstable and soon collapsed, and like lightening rarely occurred twice in the same place. But for some reason, inside your implant a 'brane' has occurred which keeps returning.”

He stopped to draw breath. I struggled to understand what he was getting at and told him so.

“It is a hole. A hole in reality, through which messages are coming. Clear, coherent messages, from what you say it would appear that at the other end of the hole is your dead father.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I have a black hole or something in my ear, and that at the other end of this black hole is a place where my father still exists.”

“Almost exactly!” he said, practically jumping off the floor.

Thank GOD...At Last...said my father in my ear...