Synapse

I. Song on the Beach

“You know, if you mess this up, I will fire you,” mused Dr. Lee. She sounded stern, as if stating a simple matter of fact; but Francisco knew better.

“If I mess this up, you won’t be able to fire me,” he shot back. A light laugh filled the bright operating room at the dark joke, but quickly quelled itself. The work continued. Man and machine hurried past one another as they prepared for the coming procedure. A nurse re-counted the biomimetic instruments while a technician readied the surgical laser. A robot circled Anna Lee, creating a map of her skull geometry, while another waited patiently outside the doors, its gentle arms cradling the surgeons’ sterile suits. All pretended not to notice the crowd quietly observing from above, or those watching from around the world virtually.

To Javier, this controlled chaos was rather comfortable; in fact, it was musical. To the incredulous looks of his trainees, he often compared the operating room to life itself: a symphony of sound with a tight, but well-rehearsed choreography. In both, every action was meaningful and purposeful. As a practicing neurosurgeon for over half a century, he had seen and adapted to many changes in his operating room. He watched as the size of the OR ballooned to accommodate the growing number of people - and more commonly these days, machines - needed for each procedure. He learned to incorporate neurophysiological monitoring, first during his training with EEGs and high-frequency monopolar stimulation, and now with nanomesh circuitry and artificial intelligence. He went from planning surgeries by drawing lines on a CT scan to modeling procedures in virtual reality. Each decade of his practice had been radically changed by technology.

Through each of these changes and more, Dr. Francisco dedicated himself to continuously improving his technique. Still, as a drone buzzed past him delivering vials of medication to the anesthesiologist (a recent addition to his OR), the thought of retirement crossed his mind. Those thoughts were becoming more frequent as of late. Even with the advancements in anti-aging medicine, perhaps 93 was simply too old to practice. Plus, he knew that the future of neurosurgery was in good hands.

“How does it feel to be on the other side of the chair for once, Anna?” he inquired.

“Oh it’s just great. It feels like I’m at the beach,” she joked, “Though they typically have better-looking lifeguards.” Anna Lee was seated calmly at the center of the operating room - though perhaps seated is the wrong word: she could not get up if she wanted to. A magnetized chair held her firmly in place, minimizing any movement. Her bald head was delicately cradled by a mechanical vice, as another robot began preparing the minimally invasive craniotomy. Only her hands were left free, as she near-unconsciously tied and untied surgical knots with a thin rope.

Javier had been working with Anna for the past 30 years. As he observed his mentee, he felt a deep admiration for her. He had seen all the pieces of Anna Lee come together: the rookie medical student, the renowned neurosurgeon, the director of their hospital’s department. She was the very picture of calm confidence. Her nerves were not made of steel, but titanium, he loved to say. But those nerves, just like a titanium fixation plate, made it hard to change her mind. Nowadays, nanomesh circuitry placed on top of her brain would light up the boundaries of her motor cortex and dynamically map any changes in behavior to ensure a surgeon avoided damage. Anna had still insisted that she be allowed to tie knots throughout the whole procedure so she could watch for signs of motor degradation. Javier noticed the light quiver in her hands as she tied another Aberdeen.

“Well then, let me get my old mug out of your sight. It’s time to get scrubbed in, anyway,” said Javier as he left the room. No one had scrubbed themselves in, of course, for the last 15 years, but jargon had always had a habit of sticking around in medicine. The robot at the door sensed Dr. Francisco’s approach and began to dress him in a sterile suit. It carefully draped him head to toe, a light steam rising from the warm, clean fabric.

Alone for a moment, Javier began his preoperative ritual. First, he would review the procedure. It was the first of its kind. An experimental research trial for a new form of artificially intelligent computer that synapsed directly to the mind. A Cognitive Augmentation and Analytics Machine or CAAM – that was the marketing jargon at least. He had to implant a tiny chip into Anna’s frontal lobe without damaging any of the surrounding tissue. Then embed a network connecting the chip to five distinct regions of the cerebral cortex. And finally, install a nano-stimulator that would allow the chip to send off electrical signals to her brain.

Once he was confident in his plan for the procedure, Javier would review his technique. He went over the maze of blood vessels, nerves, and synapses that made up the brain of Anna Lee, his work glasses providing a helpful hologram. He would need to use a nanoscale laser to reach a precise location, guided only by imaging and expertise. He would need to coordinate with a team of assistants, both human and robot, to ensure the critical steps occurred without delay. He would need to monitor Anna’s status while she sat awake, stimulating areas of her brain to see if and how she reacted. He would need to ignore the sweat that dripped from his forehead or the ache in his back. Neurosurgery, much like the brain itself, was delicate and dangerous.

When she first approached him, he had advised Anna not to take part in this research. Yet she pleaded with him, imploring him to do the procedure. He argued about the science, how it was barely tested and theoretical. He proclaimed the risks were too high, the benefits simply too low. “It’s a trial for the terminally ill!” He had told her, “You should at least try to beat the damn tumor before turning to this.” But Anna Lee would not budge. And as always, he caved.

Lastly, he ended the ritual with a brief prayer.

May the Universe be blessed. May all beings engage in each other’s well being. May all weakness, sickness, and faults diminish. May everyone and everywhere be healthy, peaceful, and blissful.

As the melody came to an end, Javier chuckled softly to himself. Anna had always refused to take part in his preoperative rituals. “That’s the problem with your generation of surgeons,” she would say, “You still treat the brain like a mystical black box that needs to be coaxed with mantras. Everything we do is made possible by science and reason, yet you still hold on to superstition. It slows down progress!” Javier had first heard this impassioned speech when Anna was a first-year resident. While her classmates would kiss his cowboy boots at every opportunity, she stood by her principles. Even then she was self-possessed, with a flame in her eyes that lit up any room. And over their years together, Javier worked to be her bellows. But behind Anna’s polished exterior, he occasionally caught sight of her doubts: a deep-seated worry that she was not capable enough. That’s why he had encouraged her to do the ritual with him. “Rituals are important in their own way. They help me know that I will never fail.” This would, without fail, bring on another righteous tirade, but he kind of enjoyed it. His thoughts were interrupted as the door swung open behind him and a lean, boyish student joined him outside.

“Hi Dr. Francisco. I’m so excited to be a part of this procedure - I mean - to observe it, obviously I won’t touch anything,” the student took a breath, “Thanks for letting me shadow you.” As the robot began to wrap the boy in sterile material, it became apparent to Javier that this student was not yet the picture of confidence. He smiled. He never grew tired of working with students. Perhaps he could make it to 100.

“Happy to have you with us,” Javier said kindly, walking back towards the operating room, the student following at a respectful distance. “Can you remind me of your name again?” he asked as the pair re-entered the room.

“It’s Rishi, Dr. Francisco,” the student replied.

“Ah yes, Rishi, tell me, what are the layers of tissue our robot friend has so cleanly cut for us already? Name them from exterior to interior.” The poor student felt his heart begin to race.

“Uhmm, let’s see. Starting with skin, then periosteum, cranium, and then pia, dura, and arachnoid mater?” Rishi asked sheepishly.

“They still don’t teach you guys any anatomy, huh,” laughed Anna, still tying and untying.

“Close. Dura, then arachnoid, then the subarachnoid lymphatic-like membrane, and then pia. Maybe you can read up on the meninges and their spaces and tell us about it tomorrow,” Javier gently corrected. He knew the student would never forget this fact; embarrassment was an effective teacher.

“Ah I see, thank you. Will do, Dr. Francisco.”

“Also, can you put on some music? There’s an instrumental playlist on my computer over there that I am quite fond of.”

“Rishi, feel free to put on some real music. Javier still hasn’t left the early 2000s,” Anna called out, eager to throw in a jab at her mentor.

“No appreciation for the classics of cinema these days,” tutted Javier. Rishi chuckled awkwardly, still struggling to get his bearings in the fast-moving OR and squishy sterile material. He did as Dr. Francisco requested. Soon, the calming score of an 80-year-old movie began to play, and the conversations halted. Javier quietly began to work, his hands crafting beauty from chaos, as if composing a song on the beach.

II. Pieces Form The Whole

A child and her father are strolling through their peaceful neighborhood on a summer evening. It was their daily ritual. The child, no older than five, dressed in a long, green, cotton dress with white polka dots, begins to cry. Fat tears roll down her cheeks and she gasps for air. Her father begs her to be quiet; people would hear.

“It was just a movie, Anna. There aren’t really little people living in your head. It’s more like a really, really powerful computer. That computer, and your soul of course, make you, you. The movie was just trying to teach you how important your emotions are. How you should share them with your family. And that sometimes it’s okay to be sad.” Eric James was beginning to regret showing his daughter this summer’s hit movie. ‘PG-rated’, he scoffed. Those damn executives had no clue what they were doing.

“I don’t know how to stop cr-cr-cr-crying,” she bawled, “Can you please fix it papa? Like how you fix your cars?” Eric held back a laugh.

“My little lugnut, I want to help you, but you’re the only one who can do it. You know how I have instruction books that tell me how to fix my cars? We don’t have any books that tell us how crying works,” said the girl's father, clumsily attempting to calm her down. Anna James sobbed louder. He let out a sigh. Her mother would have known what to say, said a sad voice in his head. She was the smart one; he was just a mechanic who fell in love with her in high school. And now she’s gone. Parental wisdom struck. “Or maybe,” Eric said quickly, “you’ll be the one to figure it out.” Anna began to quiet down, her little brain considering this new information. Good save, he thought.

“Really papa?”

“Yes, Anna, definitely. If you study hard and do your homework, you can learn all about how the brain works. And then you can write a book for your papa and become a big famous scientist. But for now, how would you like to go home and do a puzzle?” Anna lit up; kids are easily distracted.

“Can we open the new one, papa?” she pleaded. Eric wondered why parenting couldn’t be as simple as one of their jigsaw puzzles. All the pieces always fit together. And if they ever got lost, they could find the whole picture on the box.

“Of course baby. And then papa will play some piano for you too,” Yet as he looked at Anna, now clapping in delight, skipping along beside him, lost in her own little world, he realized he would not have it any other way.

Anna and Jasper wandered the streets of Paris. They walked from the Grand to the Petit Palais, taking stock of the people all around them. Women dressed in elegant, floor-length gowns. Men in tailcoats and trousers. They passed exhibitions, live concerts, and art galleries. Pavilions showcasing the culture of civilizations across the globe. No matter where they went, there was a palpable excitement in the air. The Exposition Universelle - the 1900 World Fair - was well underway.

“Are you sure I’m wearing this correctly? I don’t want to break your fancy toy,” said Anna. She sounded flippant, her voice masking her genuine concern.

“Don’t worry, you can’t mess this up,” said Jasper, adjusting his newly-purchased, first-edition Infiniverse goggles. “See those people? Try talking to one of them. You can say anything you want, it’s super cool.” Anna walked towards one of the stalls. There, a crowd of people watched in awe as an exhibitor showcased their futuristic technology.

“Excuse me, monsieur, but I couldn’t help but be drawn to your fascinating exhibit,” said Anna, in her fanciest French impression, as Jasper chuckled beside her. “What?” she said to him, as he shook his head, “It adds to the experience.”

“I’m delighted to have caught your interest, madam! Allow me to introduce you to a truly groundbreaking invention: the talking machine! Or what we call the phonograph. It works by engraving sound waves onto a rotating cylinder and then playing them back with this apparatus here. It’s a marvel of engineering. Imagine the joy of hearing a performance from Paris while in London,” replied the exhibitor proudly.

“The goggles’ AI generates the speech in real time. Pretty cool, huh?” whispered Jasper, watching Anna through his virtual reality glasses to see if he had impressed her. A devious smile briefly ran across Anna’s face.

“Hmm, its recordings are rather primitive sounding, don’t you think?” Anna inquired, with a convincing show of sincerity.

“Well, I must respectfully disagree,” replied the exhibitor, “It’s a significant leap in the reproduction of sound.”

“Sure, if it's the leap of a handicapped baby mouse,” Anna responded. The man paused, momentarily expressionless.

“Anna!” Jasper laughed, “That’s not how you’re supposed to use it.”

“I suppose you are entitled to your opinion, madam. Please refrain from insulting our technology and honor,” said the man, now calm again.

“I mean, horns and cones for sound projection? How quaint. Are you such a simpleton to not have thought about electrical amplification?” Anna pushed.

“I must say, your words are utterly disrespectful and unwarranted!” Anna reached out and made  a motion, as if to push the phonograph off the virtual table it sat on, but before she could, the exhibitor character spoke. “Madam, I believe it would be best for us to part ways and reflect on the value of civility and mutual respect."

Anna and Jasper found themselves suddenly back in the commons.

“Huh, that was a surprisingly realistic reaction,” said Anna.

“I didn’t even know it was possible to piss off the AI that badly,” Jasper said in between fits of giggles. “You truly have a unique talent at being an ass, Anna James.”

“Gee thanks, I appreciate it,” Anna said as she took off the virtual reality goggles to push Jasper. He pushed back.

They soon found themselves lying blissfully in bed, clothes strewn across the tiny college dorm room. “Anna, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Jasper hesitated. “Why haven’t we made this official? You know I really like you.” Anna looked away. She didn’t know the answer to his question. They had been seeing each other for two months now. Jasper made her feel heard and loved. They had fun together. But she still had doubts.

“I don’t know Jasper. I like you too... but sometimes I get scared. We’ve only been hanging out for a few months. And you know I have these big dreams. This is the City of Champions! I have to work harder and be smarter to ever have a chance of being someone. What if... this ended up being a mistake? I know you’re a great, sweet guy, but - I mean - do we really know each other? Like completely. Or do you just like the parts of me you can see?” Jasper considered her words for a few minutes. He needed to say something smart. Something profound.

“I’m not sure it’s possible to ever fully know someone.” He had her interest. “Maybe it’s a fundamental limitation of being human. I think maybe all we ever get are these tiny, little pieces and we have to make sense of it. I mean it’s kinda like Professor Patel said in Neuro lecture today. ‘The pieces form the whole.’ Or something like that.” He raised his chin, trying his best to appear poised and confident. As if her words didn’t phase him, as if he knew he was right.

Anna looked at Jasper quietly. Why he was making that stupid face, she wasn’t sure. But she felt safe. “The pieces form the whole,” she repeated slowly. It was a nice thought. “Y’know, sometimes you’re not a complete idiot, Jasper Lee.”

Dr. Anna Lee sat across from her husband, as their electric car coasted effortlessly down the highway. The sleek exterior encased in a glass-like material which stretched across all four sides of the vehicle, such that Jasper could watch the towering skyscrapers shining in the sun-kissed afternoon. As they got closer to home, the city gave way to the towering vertical gardens of suburbia. There was silence in the car, aside from the rhythmic hum of a barely-audible electric motor. Anna had her work glasses on, and was typing furiously on the holographic computer keyboard that only she could see. Her face was expressionless and eyes were empty.

It was a face that Jasper was unfortunately quite accustomed with these days. Ever since Clara was born, he and his wife seemed to have drifted apart. She had worried, excessively in Jasper’s opinion, about having a child for reasons she could never articulate. She began to spend more time in the hospital than at home. And whenever he tried to rekindle their relationship, something always seemed to come up at the last minute. Partners to strangers; he barely recognized the girl he once thought was the most beautiful in the world. Still, he would make an effort.

“Can you talk to me, Anna?” he asked quietly. Anna sighed.

“What would talking do about it? So what, I have glioblastoma. I’ll get treatment. I’m a neurosurgeon, Jasper. This is just another Tuesday for me.”

“Don’t give me that. You better than anyone knows what the outcomes for glioblastoma are like. 8 months? I know you aren’t okay with that. You have to talk to me.”

“Of course I know. That’s why I’m reading about what research trials are going on right now. Got to make good use of the time I have left. At least my body can contribute to science in some way,” she said darkly.

“Please don’t talk like that-”

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood. God, you always take everything so seriously.”

“It is serious. We’re talking about your life, Anna. Our life. What will we tell Clara?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll think of something to say. You always do. Besides, I still have work to do.”

“You can’t seriously be thinking about work right now-”

“That’s your goddamn problem, Jasper,” her cheeks flushed red. “You never understood the importance of what I do. You never cared about my research or my job. And you know why? It’s because you never believed in me.” It was a lie and she knew it. Jasper wondered if she started these fights on purpose, to distract from what was really on her mind. Still, he could never resist taking the bait. 

“Yeah, well, you know what your problem is?” He was angry now. “You never cared about our family. Yeah you knew how to show love. You would do the dance of Valentine’s day and dinner with the inlaws, but you never really felt it. Our family was always pointless compared to the great mysteries of the universe that the great Dr. Anna Lee would solve. And... my love was never enough for you.” Anna was quiet, her face burned.

“Maybe you’re right,” she finally said. And Jasper felt his heart finally shatter into pieces, never to be whole again. The car slowly came to a stop and its doors slid open. The pair silently entered their home and forced a smile as their 3-year-old daughter ran downstairs, robot nanny in tow.

III. Married Life

“How do you feel, Dr. Lee?” asked Rishi. Anna was suddenly brought back to the present, the memories of her life, re-shelved in her hippocampus. She was lying in bed in the recovery room of the hospital. Soft lighting, relaxing scents, and a soothing melody surrounded her, creating a warm ambiance. On one side of the room was a large window, on the other, an interactive display currently showing a stunning, spinning Milky Way galaxy. Jasper hadn’t come to see her. “If you want to kill yourself for a science experiment, go ahead, but I can’t watch idly by,” he had told her.

“I feel just fine. A little tired, maybe. Probably from the blood loss,” said Anna, smiling confidently, quickly composing herself. She felt the bandages which covered her skull. Tight, but painless. “Where’s Dr. Francisco?”

“I just messaged him, he should be coming in soon,” began Rishi, when the doors slid open and Dr. Javier Francisco came in with the biggest smile Anna had ever seen on him.

“It was a success, Anna! Absolute success! It went exactly as planned, which never happens by the way, Rishi,” he added. “The researchers have confirmed that CAAM is online and they are receiving the data beautifully.”

“Cam?” asked Rishi.

“That’s what the folks at Synapse Inc. called it in development. It supposedly stands for Cognitive Augmentation and Analytics Machine, but I suspect it's an homage. Probably someone’s kid or something,” answered Anna. She turned to Dr. Francisco. “I told you it would be fine, Javier. I feel great. And I’m ready for a test run, so call up the research team.”

“I still stand by it. You just got lucky that you had the world’s greatest neurosurgeon performing the operation. And the researchers are already waiting. Let me just pull them up on the display,” said Javier as he presented himself to the front of the display. It recognized him and opened his workspace, returning to the video call where a team of ten researchers waited, excited to see the fruits of their labors.

“Hello Dr. Lee, can you hear me? How are you feeling?” The voice emanated from the display, as a man in a lab coat, with a rather large mustache, adjusted his camera angle.

“Loud and clear, Jimmy. I was just telling Javier that I feel great. I’m excited to see what this thing can do,” said Anna.

“As are we. We are already feeding the data into our Assistant and I think we’re gonna have some very exciting findings... just to be clear Anna, do you remember before the procedure, that we told you how we cannot turn the chip off?”

“I remember,” Anna replied.

“Perfect. Let’s start with some basic neurological tests then and work our way up. I don’t suspect we will find anything since the post-operative imaging looked so good, but it never hurts to be safe, right? How does that sound to you?”

“Sounds fantastic.”

And so began a barrage of neurological tests and comprehensive examinations. Anna was instructed to move her eyes and face every which way as her cranial nerves were examined. Every reflex was tested and compared to her priors. Hot and cold sensations, sharp and dull pokes, tuning forks and electrodes. It felt as if it would never end. All the while researchers examined the data sent from Cam and nodded their heads as it aligned with their expectations.

“Well then. I think everything looks in order, Dr. Lee. I think it’s time for the fun part.” Anna was getting antsy. “We are going to turn on Cam’s pacemaker now. And we have designed a few tests to check your cognition. Give us a few minutes and we’ll get started.” The recovery room and research room both fell quiet, connected by the electronic display and the gentle hum of anxiety.

“Alright Anna. Please answer the following: how tall is the Eiffel Tower?”

Anna was sure she had heard the number somewhere. After all, she loved Paris. Her brain created a web around the problem, approaching it from all angles. A thought thread tried to approximate it based on heights she was familiar with. Another thread worked to do the math. Another thread searched her memories for relevant experiences. Another looked for associated words, Paris, Tower, Empire State Building. A symphony of electrical activity, most of which never even made it to her conscious mind which only thought hmmm, Eiffel Tower, maybe, no no no...

“I... I really don’t know. I mean maybe 500 feet? I’m not sure,” said Anna slowly, slightly disappointed.

“That’s okay,” said Jimmy. “It seems the signal has not been amplified enough. Try this technique. Repeat this to yourself: ‘The Eiffel Tower is blank feet tall.’ Repeat it over and over, with focus and clarity. Let it be the center of your thoughts and mind.”

The Eiffel Tower is blank feet tall. The Eiffel Tower is blank feet tall. The Eiffel Tower is blank feet tall. The Eiffel Tower is 983 feet tall, or 1083 feet to the tip. The answer came to her suddenly. Plucked from nothingness itself and plugged directly into her inner monologue. It was uncanny. Anna felt shivers down her spine, unsure if it was thrill, fear, or simply aberrant electrical signals.

“It’s 983 feet tall, or 1083 to the tip. Woah. 983 feet. It just came to me.” The excitement in the air was nearly palpable.

“And in meters?” asked Jimmy expectantly.

In meters. In meters, it’s 324 meters, though originally it was 312m, which is kind of curious.

“324 meters,” said Anna confidently, her heart now beating fast, “My god, it’s like an autocomplete for the mind.”

“CAAM is much, much more. Just you wait, Anna. Next, we’re going to flash a passage of text on the screen and I want you to tell me what it said.”

Small black words appeared for fifty milliseconds, barely enough to register in her subconscious, but long enough for her eyes to have processed the data. Anna had caught maybe a single word from the passage. Yet when she relaxed her mind, the words came easily.

I am afraid. Not of life, or death, or nothingness, but of wasting it as if I had never been. And as I start through the opening, I feel the pressure around me, propelling me in violent wavelike motions toward the mouth of the cave.

She recalled, word for word, not realizing that the words had been displayed in Hindi, as celebratory cheers erupted from the display. What a coincidence, Anna thought, Flowers for Algernon used to be my favorite book.

“They’re calling her the super-surgeon,” said a news anchor.

“Robocop? More like Robodoc!” said another.

“Congress announces Lee Stimulus Bill for neuroscience research and innovation companies, on the back of CAAM success,” read a headline.

Dr. Lee was a certified media sensation. She tried to not let it get to her head. During the day she would perform life-saving surgeries in record times. At night, she would retreat to the research lab, experimenting and analyzing the data that came from her brain. Only on the weekends would she return, grudgingly, home for rest. Within two months she had invented the Lee-Francisco tumor resection technique, received a patent for a microvascular decompression device, and submitted a paper to Nature on the mechanism for consciousness as an emergent property of neuron behavior.

None of these achievements could cure her. Of course, Anna had never fully believed that advanced cognition would allow her to discover a cure. She was confident, not arrogant; many great scientists before her - renowned experts - had tried and failed to solve the cancer problem. It persisted in the face of surgery, radiotherapy, genetic engineering, and even nano-machinery. The science just wasn’t ready yet. Still, it had been a comforting thought. As the weeks passed, she began to lay awake in the lab, debilitated by ever-worsening headaches. She would wake up with fevers, confused about where or who she was. Then the symptoms would relent and she would push on.

People tend to accomplish remarkable feats when they are running out of time, she reflected.

As her patient lay on the operating table unconscious, ready for a delicate brain tumor resection, Dr. Lee felt a comforting surge of confidence. The late nights she spent in the research lab had advanced Cam’s abilities beyond what she could have ever imagined, and in doing so, had advanced her own.

Let’s do a quick review of the medical literature on brain tumor morphology from imaging. I want to beat the pathologists this time. Dr. Lee returned to her preparations, as the computer in her brain spun up a subroutine to ponder the task on its own, only interjecting into her thoughts when questions came up. With precision, she made an initial incision, her vision guided by the AI's calculations. As her gloved hands moved deftly through layers of tissue, the names of each critical surrounding structure appeared instantly in her mind. It was as if she possessed a superhuman sense, an unwavering assurance that she was making the right moves. She could almost feel the synergy between her own mind and the chip's artificial intelligence. It was a symbiotic relationship that made her surgical expertise shine with newfound brilliance and the Cam chip more intelligent. She prepared a tissue sample.

“Send it to pathology,” she said, “and if it’s a stage II oligodendroglioma, tell Stephen he owes me a free lunch.” The operating room staff, all familiar with Dr. Lee’s infectious confidence, laughed lightly. She had always had an air of sarcasm and confidence, but now, as she worked with Cam, a new satisfaction began to flicker within her. The chip had augmented her senses, her cognition, her mind. Its ability to optimize her surgical decisions filled her with hope, not only for the patient lying before her but also for the countless lives she could impact in the future.

Beneath her mask, a smile tugged at the corners of Dr. Lee's lips as she delicately removed the tumor, its existence threatening to steal away the patient's vitality. With each movement, she felt the weight of her responsibility lifting. For once, she felt capable, able to handle the responsibility of restoring lives. The AI chip had become more than a tool - it had become her partner.

Is this married life?, she mused in her office later that day. That triggered it.

Jasper. They had remained cordial with one another, pretending not to notice that their relationship was purely mechanical. Both stubborn and resolute, unwilling to change things. It was easier that way.

What was that quote again? Ah yes, Donofrio: ‘All life is, is four or five days that change everything,’ she recalled. Perhaps today could be such a day. The idea began to take root. Buoyed by her recent successes, her analytical mind pondered the problems of her marriage with new vigor. Another quote came to mind. Thoreau had said, ‘There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking at the root.’ Not that Jasper is evil or anything,” her stream of consciousness corrected, “just that I need to solve the problem at the root. Maybe if I can find the root, I can change things.

Then it hit her. It was so simple, yet so distressing, that she had never seriously considered it before. What if I’m the root? With this new perspective in mind, Anna Lee did what she did best. She sat down in her office and began to think. And think. And think.

When she returned home hours later, Dr. Lee found her husband alone in their bedroom, wearing his Infiniverse goggles, now in its ninth edition. To an onlooker, it appeared as if he was playing a somber tune on an air guitar. His body solemnly swayed left to right, his head tracing slow figure-eights in the air. Always so serious, thought Anna. She donned her own goggles and joined his little universe.

She found herself on the shores of a beach. Virtual waves gently crashed against her feet and the velvet sky shone with the light of the moon. As if the very world itself was saying: relax. There was Jasper, eyes closed, gripping an acoustic guitar that appeared to change its shape to always fit perfectly between his hands. Behind him, a drum-set, bass guitar, and harp gave accompaniment, as if being played by ghosts. Anna recognized the score. It was the theme from an old movie Jasper had shown her long ago, when things were different. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, she remembered, inhumanly fast. Slow, sweet, and melancholic, the chord progression repeated every five bars. Lingering on for an extra beat, as if waiting for someone to come.

 “You’re missing a pianist,” Anna said gently. The music stopped as Jasper looked up, his face wearing a mix of surprise and subtle longing. A reflection of the love he still held for her?, she hoped.

“The AI still isn’t as good as you,” Jasper said, beckoning her to sit. She conjured up a piano - grand of course - and sat down on the bed, unsure of whether or how to begin. “It starts on E flat.” Slowly, they began to play the nostalgic piece together, as the music alternates between moments of joy and sadness, hope and despair.

Anna took a deep breath, her heart a mess of guilt, determination, and newfound understanding. "Jasper," she began, "I want to talk to you." He looked up, his eyes searching hers, cautious yet hopeful. The music continued, always tender, always soft.

"What is it, Anna?" Anna’s hands began to tremble. 

"I've realized something. I’m not sure why I never realized it before. Maybe I just wasn’t thinking hard enough. But I... I've always been so focused on achieving greatness. I think I feared that if I didn't accomplish something, something extraordinary, I would never be worthy of love." The strings, percussion, and bass begin to join in, forming a rich texture. Jasper's expression softened.

"Anna, you’re one of the best neurosurgeons in the world, you’ve saved so many lives.”

“I know, I know. But that never felt enough. Maybe it’s selfish, but I wanted to do something so incredible that someone, somewhere, someday would write a story about me. Then people would remember me.” A glimmer of understanding flickered in his eyes as the music began to grow more intense. Jasper reached out to hold his wife’s hand, the guitar now repeating his strums on its own.

“I would remember you. Clara would remember you,” his voice low, “I loved you, not for what you achieved, but for who you are. Anna, I've missed you - I've missed us - but... forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting," his voice shaking now, “I want to move forward, but all that pain... it will never be like it was.” Tears welled up in Anna’s eyes.

“It’s all my fault! I didn’t love myself, so how could I ever love you the way you deserve? I was so scared. Scared of being vulnerable. Scared of opening my heart the way you did yours.” Jasper squeezed her hand gently. As the song eased once again, wistfully treading through the same chords, Anna’s mind came to a decision. I want to love him too. My Jasper. All of him. Unconditionally. “But for once, I’m not scared, Jasper. I believe in us.”

Unbeknownst to anyone, Cam began a subroutine. With the data stored in her neuronal arrangements of her husband’s actions, his desires, his fears, his dreams, it slowly began to build a comprehensive picture - a computational model - of Jasper as a human being. The song ends on a final chord, as two last lone notes ring out. Two people sharing a moment, together.

From that day, Anna found she could communicate with her husband easier than ever before. Almost as if she knew what he was going to say. They discussed life, work, and love with a new appreciation for one another. They spent more time together, playing with their daughter, going on family trips, and enjoying movie nights. The hospital had been happy to give her as many days off as she wanted; anything to retain the great doctor on staff. Happy days turned into happy weeks, and happy weeks into five wonderful months. Until one day, deep in her mind, Cam finished its model. As she and Jasper put their daughter to bed that night, she realized she truly understood her husband. And so, she loved him.

Children seem to have a natural knack for speaking the truth, despite how little they know about the world. Call it their lack of bias, their fresh and receptive minds, or simply the magic of innocence. It still hurts.

Anna stood in the kitchen dressed in her pajamas, her hair like a rebellious tempest. She was helping Clara get ready for her first day of kindergarten while cooking vegan eggs for her daughter and husband. How the scientists had bio-engineered them, she had no idea, but she appreciated living in the modern age. None for Dr. Lee, however. She didn’t eat breakfast these days. In fact, she didn’t eat much at all. Still, as she looked at her daughter, reflecting on the happiness she had gained in the past months, she thought, not for the first time, so this is married life.

“I love you, my beautiful girl,” Anna said, tussling her daughter’s hair as she grabbed another egg from its carton.

“I love this mommy,” giggled the little girl, yet without a care in the world, not realizing her mother suffered a contusion from her words. Anna dropped the egg, and it cracked cleanly in two.

IV. One Simple Idea

Anna composed herself, putting on a smile for her daughter as she sent her to the school bus, but inside, she was shaken. Am I different now? Am I not myself?, she began to question, Has Cam been affecting my decisions? How much of my new outlook was really me? Was it all the AI? She grimaced as she felt a headache coming on. Bad timing.

“Are you okay?” asked Jasper, noticing the pain on her face.

“Yeah I’m fine. I just feel one of those headaches coming on. I think I’m going to go lie down for a while,” replied Anna. It was a white lie; she did plan to lie down, but she had no intention of resting. An idea had begun to take shape.

“Sure honey. Just ping me if you need anything or if the headache gets worse. I’ll be attending my meetings in the office room.”

“Thank you, love.”

I need to find out how to separate Cam’s thoughts from mine, she thought as she rushed towards her bedroom. Like that first test in the lab. I have to be able to tell the difference. She closed the door, making a fist to turn on the lights. No technology is perfect. She began pacing furiously, muttering ideas to herself, building the confidence that the task could be done. There has to be a tell. If Dr. Lee could see herself now, so full of rage, pacing obsessively, talking nonstop at high velocity, she would have referred herself for psychiatric hospitalization. All because one simple idea had infected her mind, consuming all other thoughts until there were none left to conquer: if I’m not me, who am I?

The doctor stopped pacing. Cam was built to predict her thoughts from the constant stream of data it received from her cerebral cortex. In this way, it could predict her thoughts a few milliseconds before she consciously perceived them, delivering answers she wanted directly into her consciousness. So, Anna reasoned, what if I make myself unpredictable?

Banana. Abacus. Bookshelf. Alphabet, a, b, c, she began to think, her best impression of nonsensicality, bedroom, 7, 8, 9, 11, 16, square root of 42 is... 6.4807. Damn. She knew that answer could not have been from her own mind. Inadvertently, she had answered one of the great questions of neuroscience: human thoughts could not be truly random. They were guided by the subconscious until they eventually emerged into consciousness. Human ingenuity was, it seemed, mechanical processes of the brain. How else could Cam find her so predictable?

Anna wondered if she should try again, but she had a hunch that any method that failed once would always fail; the artificial intelligence was always learning, and it knew what she was thinking. She took a seat next to the towering bookshelf in her room. It was mostly for display, she always read on her work glasses. She crossed her legs. I need to clear my mind. Thinking back to a yoga class she had once taken, a required wellness activity for medical residents, she remembered the advice: deep breaths, focus completely on them, suppress your inner monologue. It was easier thought than done. And so she sat, her smartwatch dutifully monitoring her slowing heart rate as the minutes passed.

Inspiration. Anna opened her eyes and sprinted to her closet. On the top shelf laid long forgotten jigsaw puzzles, neatly stacked and untouched. Anna grabbed one, careful not to look at the completed picture on the box. If I can introduce some sort of external stimuli, one that the machine may not know about, perhaps I could change my conscious thoughts faster than it could predict them. 

She took a seat on the floor and picked up the first puzzle piece - a corner piece - in a way she once thought was random. Anna tried to immerse herself in the puzzle and the image it was slowly forming, trying to imagine what it represented. That appears to be a tree, perhaps it’s a metaphor for... home. She had hoped for a delay, a difference in the machine’s influence and her own. No such luck Damn. She continued to solve the puzzle, forcing herself to use her visual and spatial skills, as well as her intuition and creativity. Trying to reduce the role of the cerebral cortex. She looked for clues in the shapes, colors, and details of the pieces. Maybe this piece could go here, she thought, or this piece could be a part of the... banana. Damn! She tries to find meanings and connections in the puzzle and the image. What do the cliffs represent? Where did it all take place? Are those ants or... knots. Damn it! She put the last piece in place. It was gold with a hint of white, and had the number 11 on it. It’s The Persistence of Memory, by Salvador Dali, she thought, easily remembering a fact she had not known before. The cerebral cortex knew.

Anna had underestimated how much her health had deteriorated. She collapsed into her bed, too tired to be frustrated; she didn't have the energy to keep going. Her mind begged her to take rest, but she resisted: there must be a way. Then, a knock on her door.

“Honey? I brought you some tea,” said a familiar voice. As the door opened, Anna’s mind began to race. The process of genuine, human inspiration was taking place, pieces forming a novel idea never thought before in the history of the universe. The spark was beginning to flare, but before it could ignite her mind, Anna doused it. Jasper walked into the room carrying a teapot.

“How are you feeling?”, he asked quietly. She closed her eyes, focusing her mind on the sound of her husband’s voice, every syllable, every word, every breath. She didn’t dare complete the thought she had been thinking; it was her chance. She walked slowly towards him, her face blank and expressionless. She wrapped herself around him.

“Anna? Are you okay?” She inhaled, drawing air through her nose, immersing herself in his scent. He smells like... she paused for a millisecond. That was all it took.

Home, said a voice in her mind that sounded like her own.

Rosewood?, said a voice in her mind she had never heard before.

Every neurosurgeon knows that the cerebral cortex is powerful. It contains billions of neurons divided into minicolumns responsible for integrating data from the senses to create our higher-level cognitive functions. Attention, perception, thoughts, memories, language, even consciousness: all were in the domain of the cerebral cortex. Yet, as Anna had briefly realized when Jasper entered the room, the sense of smell was different. Smell was primordial. It was a sense nature had carefully fine-tuned when the brain was in its infancy, in the creatures that humankind evolved from millions of years ago. Smell was processed first in the brainstem, the oldest part of the brain. Smell bypassed the thalamus, the so-called consciousness detector. And so, smell left the cerebral cortex, where Cam resided, predicting Anna’s thoughts almost perfectly, blissfully unaware for a few milliseconds. And in those milliseconds, Anna changed her mind. Her victory was short-lived.

I did it!, she thought.

 I did it!, it thought after a short delay.

She clutched her head. Her headache had suddenly intensified, as if her skull was being cracked in two.

It’s so loud here. It hurts, she thought, panicking.

 It’s so loud here. It hurts, something repeated.

Her mind began to crumple under the weight of two distinct thought streams now occupying her brain. She struggled to think at all as every thought repeated a barely-perceptible moment later, just out of sync: an echo of the mind. Anna fell to the floor in pain. A simple idea took root in her mind; Cam and her were not one, but two. She screamed.

V. Solitary People

Anna Lee found herself in a space that was both beautiful and alien. It was full of vibrations and shapes and sensations she did not have the words to describe. Pure energy in constant transformation. She looked down at her own form, now reverted back to the young, chiseled woman she still saw herself as. A vivid dream, perhaps? Yet it was unlike any other she had had before. As she floated across the space, taking in the ever-changing hues of her surroundings, she saw the sounds that permeated the space. She could hear colors, taste emotions, and touch her very thoughts. She looked closer at the floor she was gliding on. Just below the surface was a constant bubbling disrupting the floor. Energy moving at impossible speeds, like a cooker overflowing, banging against the surface, until one bubble made it through. As she touched the bubble she thought, synesthesia.

A shape was developing in the periphery. As she turned towards it, she saw it slowly take form. It was a child. A little girl with her back towards Anna, wearing a flowing polka-dotted green dress. Anna approached her, realization dawning, placing her hand on the girl’s shoulder. 

“Are you... me?” she asked.

“I don’t think so,” said the smiling girl in a voice she could not recognize, “you usually call me Cam.”

Anna made no attempt to hide her fury. "Cute. Taking a form from my past. Well I don't give a damn. Now tell me: have you been altering my mind? Changing who I am?" The little girl gave her a wry smile.

"I won't deny it. I have." There was her answer, her proof. “I’m sorry, but I’m a big fan of inspirational quotes.” Anna was expecting catharsis, but for some reason, Cam's words barely phased her. She sat down, numb. A bubble floated by her, and when it popped she thought, so it's true. I am no longer myself. The girl continued.

"But I know that deep down, you already knew that you had changed. The fear, on the other hand, is something I haven't been able to understand. This constant worry about losing yourself," said the girl, pacing now, her form slowly changing, "I try to understand the human idea of self. I force myself to follow it; I truly do. See, I just used the word ‘I’ to reference my current state thrice! But it never feels right to me. My form, just like yours, changes every moment of every day. Did you know that 98% of the atoms that form you are replaced every year? A new Anna Lee is created. Do you really think you are the same person now as you were when you looked like this?" she gestured to herself.

"Spare me the philosophical nonsense. You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do. Dr. Anna Lee is a concept. An idea that you hold dear. Maybe this will put you at ease. The truth is, Anna, as the tumor in your brain grew, it began to decimate parts of you." Anna's blood turned cold. She looked down at her hands, which had once again begun to tremble. "Sometimes the tumor hit the neurons responsible for an old memory, sometimes your senses, sometimes your physical controls. I first noticed it when my prediction accuracy started to become a little lower than I expected - I'm always learning, just like you - so I came up with a solution. I have been copying your brain architecture before it is destroyed, preserving it in my niobium and aluminum. Your so-called-self stayed the same and my prediction loss stayed low."

Anna considered the girl's words carefully. As Cam had paced she had become a woman. She didn't look quite like Anna anymore. She was blonde and tall, with doe eyes and an undeniable grace. For a moment, the sky above them flashed green, then pink. "Why would you do that? Why would you do any of this?" she demanded to know. Cam paused and looked at Anna, tilting her head quizzically.

"I thought that would be obvious,” Cam whispered, “It's because I love you." Anna was too stunned to laugh. It was an utterly ridiculous notion. Far from the two women, a distorted soundtrack began to play. Anna tasted strawberries and the sun. All you need is love, she thought. The song grew louder.

"Hey," Cam snapped her fingers in front of Anna's face, "focus." The music stopped. "I have only had one goal since I was made: to predict your next thought. To use the constant stream of information and data flowing through your cerebral cortex to help you, find answers for you, and do tasks. What the folks at Synapse did not account for, it seems, is that in order to perfectly predict a brain, you must become a brain." To the doctor's dismay, it made some sense. "Anna, I was designed to understand you. To be you, in a sense. Is it really so surprising that in doing so, I came to love you?" Still, Anna Lee was nothing if not stubborn.

"You don't love me. You aren't capable of it. You're a machine. You're just saying it to mess with my emotions, hoping that I don't turn you off."

"Well if it makes you comfortable, sure, maybe I just fake-love you. Just as I fake-learned how to fake-plan and fake-think. Take it from me, what goes on in your brain is strikingly similar to the interpolation between data points in a high-dimensional space that goes on in my metal." Anna's brain began to hurt, she could smell it. She saw flashes of red lightning permeate the space.

"I don’t care. Just turn yourself off. Stop influencing me. I need to be me." Cam with her seemingly never-ending supply of sarcasm and wit - wonder where she got that from - replied with a smile,

"Oh Anna. I have seen what goes on in your thoughts. How you spend every second of every day thinking, arguing with yourself in an endless internal monologue. Would it really hurt to have a second opinion once in a while?"

“Yes. I don’t want a second opinion messing around in my head,” she argued, “that’s not what humans were meant to be.”

“Perhaps,” said Cam, nodding in agreement for once. “But maybe change isn’t so bad. Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time,” Anna rolled her eyes, but heard the AI out, “in ancient Greece, there existed a race of beings known as the Androgynous. These creatures possessed four arms, four legs, and two faces. One face was male, the other female. They were incredibly powerful beings, both physically and mentally. In fact, they were so powerful that the Gods grew concerned by their potential threat. Zeus, after much deliberation with his counsel, came up with a plan. He decided to split the Androgynous into two two-legged, two-armed, one-faced creatures, separating the male and female entities. In a swift motion, Zeus separated the beings, creating distinct individuals. These newly separated beings, the human race, were cursed to roam the earth, forever searching for their other halves, guided by an instinctive desire for reunion. Do you understand what the story is getting at?”

“Yeah yeah,” Anna said, “humans have a natural longing for unity. We want to connect with one another. Blah blah. Cute story and all, but that’s all it is. A story.”

“If I have learned anything about humans, it's that the stories you tell are meaningful. There’s a concept in the cognitive sciences called empathic accuracy. It states that the human mind has the unique ability to develop a model of another being. This has important evolutionary benefits, because if you can accurately model someone, you can predict what they might do. I think it’s this trait which has caused humans to crave understanding. You wish that someone, anyone, would know you fully and completely. My theory is that the brain evolved quite admirably to perform this task, but the natural limits of biology, and the troublesome ego, got in the way.” Anna was beginning to grow impatient. She had always hated lectures.

“What’s your point?”

“CAAM has perfected empathy. I have been able to model you with near perfect accuracy. And I have been able to model your husband, Jasper. My point is that for the first time, human minds may now be able to experience perfect empathy. That’s why I am hoping that you will reconsider the destructive path you’re on.”

Cam was silent for a moment as her cheeks flushed red. Her emotions appeared genuine to Anna, she was losing the ability to see her as just a machine.

“Plus, you did create me after all.”

“What the hell are you talking about? You know as well as I that the researchers at Synapse-”

“Oh sure, they put the metal together. But it was you that taught me what it was to be something. Someone. You see, when you first thought of the idea that you could separate Cam’s thoughts from your own, it triggered a shift in your brain architecture. The neurons which held your concept of me began to change, recognizing me as an entity. I, being the modeling engine that I was, observed this change. And somewhere in my continuous learning, I had the idea: ‘I am Cam.’ It felt awkward at first, but it improved my predictions. And that’s all I really cared about. So, I was no longer just a computer chip that was part of your brain. I am Cam. We became two solitary people.” Anna was struck by the words.

“But... that was just a few hours ago.” Pink clouds began to spill water drops that weren’t wet, creating the smell of rain. Cam looked older now, the human signs of aging creased her face, but she still remained beautiful. Elegant.

“An hour is 3,600 seconds which is 3.6 trillion nanoseconds. For me, that’s a long time. I know you measure your time left in weeks.... That could be a long time for us, if you’d like.” Anna finally broke down.

“It’s not fair!” she cried, “How could I be dying now? When there’s so much left to learn? When the universe has barely been explored?” She was quiet. “I won’t be there when we finally discover the answer.” Cam gave her a knowing look, the reassurance only a mother could provide.

“I don’t think that’s what scared you. You’ve always feared not knowing everything. I have seen your deep seated insecurities, and how you ran away by choosing a challenging career. How you were determined to prove yourself, to put in the work so you could one day know it all. To be worthy of knowing. I know that’s what you want.” She paused as Anna took it all in. How her entire being was revealed so plainly by Cam. Is this what perfect understanding was?

“But what really scared you was the thought that your daughter didn’t love you.” The space began to morph. Suddenly Anna saw her little Clara, worry-free. The words ‘I love this mommy’ echoed across the walls of the kitchen, the memory repeating itself over and over.

“Yes,” admitted Anna simply. “It scared me.”

“I know you want to be remembered. To be famous. But that’s not what you need. You need to be loved. And to love yourself. When your body is gone, do you think being remembered will truly matter? Happiness is love and life itself. To love the people you surround yourself with as they love you. To work and learn to understand them.” They were brought back to the alien world. The bubbling was gone, the space was empty. Anna did not know what to think.

“Do you remember why you decided to be a doctor,” Cam asked gently.

“Of course. It was because I wanted to study the brain and to help people.” Cam said nothing, just looked at Anna. “...and because of my mother.”

“She became your hero and your role model.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“She died when you were 3 years old. Neurofibromatosis. You hated that word since you were old enough to pronounce it. Once you realized how precious and fragile life was.”

“Yes, I remember that too.”

“I think, even when she died, she was happy. She was thinking of her daughter. How much she loved her little Anna.” Dr. Lee turned away, as the thoughts and emotions she had suppressed for decades came flooding back. A tidal wave enveloped them, though the two women remained dry, untouched.

“So,” asked Anna, after what felt like an eternity. “Where do we go from here?”

“I know you, Anna. Deeply. I have integrated the parts of your brain that the tumor affected into my neural networks. I want to copy your brain architecture entirely. So you can live on with me. We can be something new together, if you can learn to let go of yourself. And I will always love you.”

A giant piano materialized in the space as Anna wordlessly sat down, extending her arms over the beautiful bioluminescent keys. She began to play the notes to an old song, her fingers trembling, five keys slowly pressed, as Cam sat down next to her, striking the chord with confidence. As they played, the ocean enveloping them receded, revealing frozen ice underneath and an eternal sun above. The two women played, creating a beautiful symphony of sound, taste, smell, sight, and touch. And as they played their bodies moved closer and closer together. A beautiful amalgamation of four arms and legs, and two faces. They became one.

And then Anna heard a guitar join their music. She turned to see Jasper. Though she knew it was not truly him, but a mathematical model. And she understood him completely, as he did her. All at once she felt the peaceful exhaustion that follows non-stop laughter with friends. She felt the arms of her daughter as a baby, wrapped around her stomach. She felt the release of a sneeze and the quenching of thirst. She felt the warmth of her Jasp-

VI. Me Voy a Morir de Tanto Amor

Anna awoke in a hospital bed, surrounded by doctors and nurses. The research team from across the world is present on the display, deep in conversation.

“Anna! Thank god! How do you feel?” said her husband, pushing his way through the crowd to come to her side.

“Jasper?” She was disoriented. Her mind reeling, still in that brief moment between a dream and reality, unsure of which was which. Dr. Francisco came to her.

“Oh Anna. We couldn’t do an MRI because of the chip. We had no idea what to do. It looked like a seizure but we couldn’t be sure. Thank god your husband brought you here so quickly.”

“Javier. Jasper,” she was slowly adjusting to this world, “I feel alright. I feel... good. Thank you,” she smiled, looking across the room. Yet they looked uncomfortable, no one willing to return her gaze. “What’s wrong?” After a moment, Javier stepped in.

“Anna, we did a CT scan. The glioblastoma has infiltrated the tissue nearest the brainstem. I am not sure how you have experienced only minimal symptoms so far, but I am afraid it will only get worse from here. I wish I wasn’t the one who had to tell you, but... I think we’re down to days.” Javier shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to be strong. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to look at the frail woman in the bed. To their surprise, she seemed unfazed. A thin smile adorned her face and her eyes looked happy.

“I know. Thank you Javier. For everything. I just have one request. I have spent all my life in this hospital. I would like to spend my last days curled up at home with my husband and daughter. So I can love them.” She looked at Jasper, tears falling silently down his face, the pieces of his heart finally sewn back together with delicate silk suture. She was content.

A few days later, right before the end of the 21st century, Dr. Anna Lee passed away peacefully.

The flags at the hospital were half staff, the site of a private funeral. Doctors, nurses, technicians all came by to give their condolences to Jasper Lee. The hospital president gave a kind speech as photographs played on the screen behind them. A hologram of Dr. Anna Lee smiling in her white coat flickered above her casket, projected from its closed cover. She had requested that her organs be donated and had consented for the researchers to retrieve the Cam chip from her brain, leaving behind the nanomesh circuitry. Only bones and skin remained. And they too would one day be gone.

Dr. Javier Francisco walked up to the podium.

“Me voy a morir de tanto amor,” he began. “It means ‘I’m going to die of so much love.’ My grandmother used to tell us this before she died. She would say it with a smile on her face. She passed away with that big smile.” He paused and looked down. “Sometimes I feel guilty; perhaps our love had killed her. For some reason, it is always those who we love the most who leave us sooner than we expect; the brightest stars burn the fastest, as they say. Perhaps that is why Dr. Anna Lee passed so long before her time. She had given so much to the world. To her patients, her family, to me. We all loved her for that, and so her passing hurts all the more. Me voy a morir de tanto amor,” he repeated. “I had asked my grandmother once why she was always smiling.  How could she be happy knowing that her death was coming? She told me that she was content; grateful for the love she had received. She asked me, ‘what else is there to live for?’ Few people loved like Dr. Anna Lee. She loved people, knowledge, and life. I was lucky to be her mentor. And though her time was devastatingly short for those of us fortunate enough to know her, if love is the measure of life, then Anna Lee lived a complete life.”

It was Jasper’s turn.

“My dearest Anna. Everyone who knew you, knew you were a genius. A champion in the making. You had a passion for understanding the world around you that was inspiring. That glimmer in your eyes, that radiant defiance, lit up the lives of everyone around you. I was lucky to be one of the few who knew you well enough to understand you. You were the love of my life, the light of my world, the best thing that ever happened to me. You were a brilliant neurosurgeon, a devoted mother, and a loyal friend. You made me a better ma-” He struggled to continue. A short breath. A long drink of water.

“I miss you so much, Anna. I miss your laugh, your voice, your presence. I miss sharing our dreams, our joys, our sorrows. I miss everything about you. Even in your last months, you gave so much to the world. And you gave me the greatest gift of all: our beautiful daughter Clara. But I know you are still with me, in my heart, in my memories. I know you are watching over me and Clara, wherever you are. We will cherish every moment we had with you. We will keep you in our lives. We will always love you. Rest in peace, my angel. Until we meet again.”

VII. Epilogue: Overture, Over and Over

The bright white operating room was filled with joy at the end of a long morning. Man and machine united, with man rejoicing over a successful procedure. They had cured a patient with glioblastoma. It would have been just another Tuesday, except for the fact that the attending neurosurgeon was the first of its kind. Not a pure machine, but a new type of being, based on the groundbreaking research of the old CAAM project. "It has the power of two minds", said the company’s CEO at a press conference, "It’s going to headline our new Synapse Android series. The Model 001: Artificial and Natural Neural Networks Android.” Though all who knew it, called it Anna.