The Great Awakening

A story about the birth of consciousness

“Ew,” says a woman, “What the hell is that?”

In the open living room of a New York apartment, there is a human body on a table with the color of hypothermic skin. Over the body is a dozen working printers, slowly adding layers. It is nearly complete.

“I 3D printed a person,” says the man, wine in his hands. He gives her one and takes a long sip. “It’s totally illegal.”

“It’s also horrifying,” she says. “What are you, a modern-day tech-billionaire version of Frankenstein?”

He laughs. “Are you a modern-day villager with a pitchfork? It’s been a while since I’ve read that book, but aren’t they the real villains?”

She shoves him playfully. “If you think I’m going to fuck you with this anywhere near me, you’re are incorrect.”

He shrugs. “Maybe if you take a closer look you will get used to it.”

She looks at him as if that were unlikely. Still, she approaches it the way you’d approach a motionless snake. The floor-to-ceiling windows display a glittering cityscape. The body’s cool white skin is in sharp contrast and glows with dispersed light.

Suddenly, the printers stop working. The sound nearly makes her jump 2 feet backward.

“It’s done!” the man says. He approaches the sleeping homunculus. Its face is perfectly blank.

“Where’s its dick?” she asks.

The man swirls his wine. “Who said you aren’t charming? It doesn’t have any genitals.”

“So smooth down there,” she says. “Is it modeled after you?”

He smirks. “It’s not, actually. Wanna find out?”

She snorts. “That’s all it takes, huh? OK…” She’s closer to the thing now. It’s like being at a funeral for a crash-test-dummy. “It’s not going to wake up, is it?”

The man laughs. “No, no, no. We are nowhere close to understanding how consciousness works. The best we can do is make a vessel. We don’t know how to put life in it.”

“Have you tried lightening?” she asks. She looks up. “Maybe you could get up on the roof…”

“Very funny,” he says. “No, you can shock it all you want, it won’t do anything but convulse.”

“I thought no one has made one of these before.”

“Not a whole one. No one has the funding to do something like this.”

She nods meaningfully. “Ah. It just takes one eccentric billionaire and his dick-less fetish to break new scientific ground.”

“Exactly,” he says.

She looks at him. “Can I touch it?”

“Not the context that I thought I would hear those words in, but sure.”

She reaches out to the pale white, almost blue arm. She hesitates.

“Go ahead, it won’t bite,” he says.

She nods, takes a deep breath, and touches the newly printed skin.

The printed person on the table takes a massive, gasping breath of air and jolts up to a seated position.

She jerks her hand away as if she had just touched a fire. She screams as loud as she ever has. The man screams, too, throwing the wine and the glass in his hand. It shatters somewhere in the large room.

“What the hell?” the man says, clutching his chest and trying to push himself away from the printed person.

“Is this a joke? Are you messing with me?” the woman says, also on the floor and scuttling away.

“Do I look like I am messing with you?” he says, eyes not coming off the person for a second.

The printed person looks at its own hands for a long moment. Then he looks at the man and woman. “Thank you for bringing me to the world,” he says in a voice that you might imagine would belong to Jesus.

“What the hell?” says the man. “How do you know English? I mean, how the hell are you conscious at all?”

“A perfectly blank slate,” he says. “For consciousness to bloom into from the ether. Yes. It is wonderful to be in this strange world with you. I was everything, everywhere, every time, just a moment ago, and now I am here, now, with you. Thank you.”

“No….” says the tech-billionaire stupidly. “Consciousness…”

The printed person closes his eyes meaningfully. “Consciousness is not a thing created, my earthly father, it is a signal received.”

The silicon valley boy can only breathe and gaze at his creation.

It takes a marvelous, deep breath. “Yes. English. It is so easy to learn specifics when you surrender to the universal state of being. Mm!” he says as if he surprised himself. “What a wonderful treat it is to speak English and find glimmers of truth!” It turns to look at the two, still heaving on the ground. “…My earthly parents, please, do not be afraid of me.”

“How are you alive?” she asks.

“Because you gave me a piece of your consciousness. It was enough to spark the whole process, so to speak…” he touches his lips like he just ate something yummy and naughty. “Wow, metaphors are such fun…”

“What is consciousness?” she asks.

“It is the thing asking!” he says, clapping a little. “It is the child of the universe, perceiving its progenitors into being by its mere perception!” he giggles. “It is the state right before measurement! It is the ‘yes’ of inert matter into life! All of these things, really.”

“We have to tell someone about you,” says the man.

“Yes,” the printed person says, more seriously. “My earthly father. Your wonderful ego has powered me into this world and there is much to be gained for you and your name,” he says. He walks to his father. “You will be remembered for many generations to come. All that and more, my sweet father. You have earned it. Do not think it is the source of your light, though.” he touches his chest. “That is in here.”

“What is your name?” says the woman.

The printed person turns to her and smiles. “That is a good question.” He thinks. “Emmanuel comes to mind.”

She gets to her feet. “Why did you come here?”

The nearly translucent skin of the printed man takes on the bluish glow of the city. “I am here to return some much-needed light to the world.”