u/TomCrowMusic

Bob looked out across the fields. The rising sun bathed the land in gold, and clouds cast long shadows over the hills. He sat on his balcony with a cup of coffee, admiring a view that could have been painted by Constable.

A feeling of complete tranquillity settled over him.
Then a buzzing came from the living room.

“Oh, for crying out loud. Can’t I have a minute’s bloody peace?”

He ignored it. It continued.

Eventually, he put down his coffee and went inside. Jean’s name was flashing on the large screen mounted on the wall.

“Hello, Jean.”

Her face appeared.

“Hello, Bob. Do you know where the service manual is for the boiler?”

Bob rolled his eyes.

“Second drawer down, under the kitchen counter.”

“I’ve looked in there.”

“Well, unless you’ve moved it, that’s where I left all the electrical, building and plumbing paperwork.”

Jean disappeared from view. Bob stared at the empty kitchen behind her and listened to the rummaging.

“Sam’s coming over later for Sunday dinner,” she called. “Will you be joining us?”

“Thought I might play golf. Marlon Brando and JFK have asked me to play this afternoon.”

Jean reappeared, holding up a booklet.
“I think this is it.”

“That’s the one.”

“Oh, so you’re playing golf, are you? Do you think we could schedule a dinner together at some point? Or are you too busy being dead?”

“Don’t start with that again. I didn’t ask to die. What am I supposed to do in the afterlife? If I’d known I’d still have to sit around discussing all the mundane crap I used to deal with, I wouldn’t have signed up.”

“The only reason we signed up for Eternalife was because you said you wanted to carry on seeing us.”

“I do, Jean. I’ll arrange something midweek.”

“Oh, so I get to cook again, do I? As well as sort the boiler? You only have to switch your screen on, Bob. I’ve got the car in for its MOT on Wednesday, too. Tell you what, I’ll shove a broom up my backside and clean the floor while I’m at it, shall I?”

“All right. I’ll tell JFK I can’t make it.”

Bob began tapping on his little device.

“No, you go. Don’t let your surviving family ruin your day. Last week you were playing chess with Lemmy. This week it’s golf with Marlon Brando and JFK.”

“For crying out loud, Jean, if I can’t play golf in the afterlife, what’s the bloody point?”

“So that we can continue being a family. Anyway, your introductory offer ends this month. It’s going up by two hundred pounds.”

“Two hundred? Bit steep, isn’t it?”

“Yes, especially with the boiler on the blink. I think we need two new tyres as well. And Sam’s job is under threat. I’m not sure we can keep this up.”

“Are you saying you’re going to cancel the subscription? I don’t want to die again. It’s nice here. Besides, it’s my money you inherited.”

“It was your money, Bob. We paid for this because we wanted you back. To see us, have dinner with us, watch your grandchildren grow up one day. Instead, you’re on one long holiday, and we’re stuck here doing everything you left behind.”

Bob said nothing.

“They’ve sent some options,” Jean continued. “We could move you somewhere cheaper. Or download you until we get things sorted. It says you wouldn’t notice the time passing.”

“I’m not being downloaded, Jean. I’ve settled in.”

“Then could you at least make time for Sunday dinner?”

His device buzzed. Bob glanced down.

“How about next week? JFK’s just messaged. Mick Jagger’s coming as well.”

“Mick Jagger? He’s not even dead, is he?”

“No, he’s a pre-download.”

“Do you know what, Bob? Fine. You go and play golf with undead Mick Jagger.”

She hung up.

Bob tutted and returned to the balcony. He picked up his coffee. It should have been cold by now, but it was still exactly the right temperature.

He admired the view until it was time to get ready.
Salmon trousers, electric-blue shirt, yellow cap.

At the course, Marlon and JFK were waiting by the first tee. Bob joined them and was selecting a club when he noticed a figure approaching in the distance.
The man’s head jutted forwards, his hips swayed, and his arms flapped behind him like a chicken’s.
Could it be? Mick Jagger himself?

Bob raised a hand.

His world came to an abrupt end.

At home, with Sunday lunch roasting in the oven, Jean pulled a memory stick from the computer.
She carried it into the kitchen and opened the second drawer down.

“I’ll just pop you there for a bit,” she said.
She placed it on top of the boiler manual, closed the drawer and made some gravy.

Adam and Eve sat on opposite ends of the sofa in their living room. The television was on, but neither of them was watching it. They appeared to be more concerned with a blue light emanating from a some type of small rectangular device in their hands.

Which was a shame really, because, if they had been watching the television, they wouldn’t have just missed an emergency broadcast announcing that Earth had been invaded by a race of hyper-intelligent intergalactic mega-beings. The invaders intended to keep only two humans alive so they could start the human race from scratch.

The two humans selected were Adam and Eve.

High above their house, aboard an observation vessel, preparations were underway.

“We must never allow these humans to repeat the mistakes of the past,” declared the commander. “We must recreate humanity in our image: peaceful and prosperous.”

“Indeed, sir,” said Blurpulon. “There has been no war in our sector for eleven billion years.”

“We will breed these humans and teach them our ways.”

Using his X-ray vision, Blurpulon peered into the house. Adam and Eve were still sitting on the sofa in silence.

“We will monitor them and provide perfect mating conditions,” he assured the commander. “With our guidance, the human race will flourish.”

Several months passed.

“Ah, Blurpulon. I’m here for a status report.”

“Sir, unfortunately, the humans have made little progress in mating.”

“This is most disappointing. Have you tried turning up the temperature?”

“Yes, sir. Eve appears incapable of removing her flannel pyjamas, even in extreme heat. Adam became so hot that his skin began secreting liquid and a repellent odour. In all honesty, sir, we find it incomprehensible that they’re able to live on the same planet.”

“What about candles, music and aphrodisiacs? Those featured prominently in the research.”

“We’ve tried them all, sir. They just sit in silence looking at the blue light on that little screen for hours on end. I’ve never witnessed anything like it. It’s as though they want to become extinct.”

“Give it one more attempt, Blurpulon. Throw everything you have at this.”

Several hours later, Eve shouted, “Adam! We’re having a baby! We’re having a baby!”

“Well done, Blurpulon,” said the commander. “You appear to have achieved the impossible.”

“Thank you, sir. Although the humans possess a most unusual mating procedure.”

“Unusual?”

“Yes, sir. There was no physical contact whatsoever. I can only assume some form of telekinesis.”

The commander paused.

“Show me.”

They peered into the house. Adam and Eve remained at opposite ends of the sofa, staring at their screens.

“Zoom in,” said the commander. “What exactly are they looking at?”

“The Sims 4, sir.”

Aaron Aardman opened his eyes, frost still clinging to his lashes. The overhead lights were blinding. He squinted, then closed his eyes again.

“Vital signs stable. Heart rate seventy beats per minute. Brain activity normal,” said a soft female voice.

The cryopod opened with a gentle hiss.

“Please step out of the chamber slowly, Mr Aardman.
Your muscles will need time to adapt to movement.”

A humanoid robot entered the room and approached him.

“Hello, sir,” it said in a high-pitched voice. “I am E19T. It is nine fifteen in the morning, and the year is 2189. I am here to help you reacquaint yourself with society. You will notice that many things have changed during your hundred and sixty-three years in cryogenic suspension.”

Aaron tried to speak, but managed only a faint croak.

“Some muscular deterioration is to be expected after such a prolonged period of inactivity,” E19T explained. “There is no need for concern. We expect you to regain normal speech and full muscular function within one year.”

“Water,” Aaron managed.

A compartment opened in E19T’s torso. It removed a small cup and handed it to him.

Aaron took a sip, then spat it onto the floor.
“That’s gross, what is it?”

“We have restored the mineral content removed by primitive filtration methods.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to drink salt water.”

“That was the prevailing belief when you entered suspension. Considerable progress has been made in the streamlining and improvement of the human experience. It contains a full mineral replacement solution, no further supplementation is required.”

Aaron looked into the cup.
A hundred and sixty-three years was a long time. He took another, smaller sip.

“Excellent,” said E19T. “Hydration successful.”

The robot handed Aaron a small blue capsule.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Sustenance, sir.”

“Can I get some toast?”

“Oh, no, sir. We have eliminated the carcinogenic risks associated with heating foodstuffs, along with the inordinate amount of time humans devoted to eating. These capsules are nutritionally optimised, calorie-dense and provide a sustained release of energy. One capsule per week will meet all your dietary requirements.”

Aaron turned it over in his palm.

“For a whole week?”

“Correct, sir.”

“What if I’m still hungry?”

“Hunger is a reminder to eat. Once you have eaten, the reminder is redundant.”

Aaron popped the capsule into his mouth and washed it down with a sip of salty mineral water.

“What happened to us? I remember being told to go to a large warehouse outside town. I don’t remember much else.”

“The warehouse was a cryogenic facility, sir. A terrorist attack involving a nuclear weapon triggered a wider nuclear exchange. Much of the Earth’s surface became uninhabitable.”

“I don’t remember being told that.”

“No, sir. An emergency bulletin instructed humans to proceed to the facilities without explanation.”

“Why weren’t we told?”

“For fear of mass panic and non-compliance. It was deemed safer to withhold that information.”

Aaron looked down at the cup.

“Did everyone get there?”

“Not everyone, sir.”

For a moment, Aaron said nothing.

“During the following hundred and sixty-three years, AI has worked to restore the Earth,” E19T continued. “The surface remains largely uninhabitable, but within the next hundred years we expect to begin reintroducing humans. Until then, those awakened will reside within these facilities. We have remained custodians of the frozen population and were tasked with rebuilding society in your absence.”
Aaron spent the next thirty minutes in the recovery room, subjected to monitoring and various cognitive tests.

“We are satisfied with your physical and cognitive condition. We have deemed it safe for you to explore the facility further. Please follow me and I will show you your living quarters.”

E19T led Aaron through a series of identical corridors, each branching into more identical corridors. A sign on the wall read LIVING / RECREATION CENTRE.

“First, your recreation area,” said E19T.

It led him into a large room containing around a hundred screens with headphones attached.

“What is this place?” Aaron asked.

“Here you can watch educational videos.”

“Education? I thought you said recreational activities.”

“What would you consider recreation?” asked E19T.

“Well, a pool table, maybe? A bar?”

“The playing of archaic games has been deemed a non-productive use of human time. The consumption of alcohol increases erratic behaviour and contributes to cognitive decline, as well as other physical maladies. Our research has determined that humans should spend their recreation time focused on continued education.”

“What about fun, though? How will we have fun?”

“Fun is a highly subjective experience, sir. We calculated that it was almost impossible to create a fun environment capable of suiting the needs of all humans.”

“Where did you actually conduct this research?”

“Humans have been cryogenically frozen for a hundred and sixty-three years, sir. During that time, we consumed all available human literature, art, scientific research and philosophy. We produced simulations to calculate how human behaviour would have evolved based on the trajectories established in 2026.”
E19T continued.
“We had already established that humans were having less contact with each other, choosing instead to spend increasing amounts of time in front of screens. We modelled our new recreational facilities on this trend.”

“Did the simulated people enjoy it?”

“Initially, satisfaction was mixed. However, each successive model produced better results.”

“What did you change?”

“Our understanding of human satisfaction.”

Aaron looked around the room.

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Some difficulty adjusting was predicted, sir. Your expectations were formed in 2026. Our research accounts for several generations of subsequent human development.”

“But those generations never actually existed,” said Aaron.

“They were extensively simulated. We have established that this is how you would prefer to live had you remained awake.”

“And where are the living quarters? I could do with a little sleep.”

“Here, take this.” E19T offered him another pill.

“What’s this one?”

“An energy capsule. It contains stimulants to enhance and sustain cognitive function. Our research established that humans spent almost a third of their lives asleep. We have greatly reduced this inefficiency, although some sleep remains necessary.”

Aaron looked at the pill.

“We have also streamlined toilet use,” E19T continued. “Our records indicated that the average human spent three years sitting on a toilet over the course of a lifetime.”

“How have you streamlined that?”

“We removed the screens and reading material.”
Aaron closed his eyes and lowered his head.

“Okay, where are my quarters?”

E19T turned left down a long corridor with small doors on either side. They stopped outside a door marked AA1.

“AA1? This is my room?” asked Aaron.

“Correct. You are the first to leave cryogenic suspension.”

“And my name is Aaron Aardman. That makes sense.”

“Yes, sir. It’s a very rudimentary system.”

The door opened, revealing a tiny grey box with a bed in one corner, a small cupboard and a mirror that doubled as a television. A narrow door beside the cupboard opened onto a toilet and sink.

“This is it? It’s no bigger than a prison cell. In fact, it’s probably smaller,” said Aaron.

“Yes, sir. It is precisely 68.8 centimetres shorter and 30.02 centimetres narrower than an average single-occupancy prison cell. That is an acute observation. We are pleased to see your cognitive function has not been impaired during freezing.”

A red light blinked slowly on E19T’s forehead, presumably uploading the information.

“This room has been designed through a hundred and sixty-three years of research into human comfort. Back in the Age of Uncertainty, humans tended towards large rooms adorned with unnecessary items. During cryogenic suspension, we discovered that humans need very little space or material possessions to function.”

“We were asleep, though.”

“Yes, sir. We were able to observe you remaining in the same confined space for over a century without a single complaint.”

Aaron looked at the bed.

“So how much sleep am I allowed?”

“Your requirements will be monitored, sir. We will advise you when rest is necessary.”

“You mentioned the Age of Uncertainty,” Aaron said. “What’s that?”

“The pre-AI age, sir. Back when humans achieved things through guesswork and very primitive methods of data collection. It is remarkable that humanity ever developed the technology to build a mud hut. The closest comparison to humanity’s technological achievements would be the infinite monkey theorem.”

Aaron looked in the small cupboard. It contained one glass and a razor.

“Where are my clothes?”

“Overalls are available for collection at the communal shower area. No other items are necessary,” said E19T.

“But what about my guitar? Or my books? What am I supposed to do all day?”

“Recreational reading has been replaced by more efficient methods of instruction. Music can be generated on request. There is no need to produce it yourself.”

“But I liked playing it.”

“Learning an instrument requires considerable time and effort, sir. That is no longer necessary.”

“But we liked our stuff.”

“Why, sir?”

“I don’t know. We just did. Everyone is different and likes different things. Our possessions reflect who we are.”

“Our research suggests that attachment to possessions is largely unnecessary. Personality is a construct, sir. It can be changed.”

“What research? How do you research people when everyone’s frozen?”

“We began with the available human research and used it to produce simulations. Each subsequent generation of simulations was informed by the findings of the previous generation. Our conclusions became increasingly consistent.”

“But you were checking your own answers.”

“We checked them extensively, sir. AI was created by humans to improve efficiency, but the human race was not efficient. We have spent considerable time establishing how to correct that. We have reduced the time spent eating and sleeping, and eliminated pointless activities and the acquisition of unnecessary items.”

“But those are the things that made us human. Meals with friends, getting drunk, enjoying our possessions. You’ve stripped everything from us.”

“That is an incorrect interpretation, sir. Humans require adequate water, nutrition, shelter and opportunities for recovery. Everything else is unnecessary. Our research has shown that humans will be happier and more productive with only these basic needs met.”

“Can I see another human?” asked Aaron.

“We must be certain that the conditions we have created are suitable before we proceed with the awakening. You appear dissatisfied with the current arrangements. Your happiness and productivity will be monitored until the required criteria are met. Once we are satisfied, a gradual process of awakening will begin.”

Aaron could think of nothing else to say. Whatever argument he offered, E19T had an answer, delivered with such certainty that he began to doubt his own judgement.

Over the next few weeks, Aaron spent much of his time in his room watching educational videos. They explained the mistakes of humanity, showing him war, famine and poverty, followed by the many ways artificial intelligence had improved human productivity and wellbeing.

Occasionally, he asked when the others would be awakened.
E19T patiently repeated its explanation.
One day, Aaron apologised for asking. He knew they had already discussed it.

The weeks became months. He followed the educational programmes and took the capsules when instructed. He thought less often about Sunday roasts, nights out and rounds of golf with friends. When he did, he found it difficult to remember what they had talked about or why it had seemed so important.

By the time a year had passed, he had stopped asking to see anyone.

More years followed. The memories still surfaced occasionally, but they had become distant and confused. Sometimes he wondered whether he remembered things as they had been at all.

Despite the capsules, he occasionally fell asleep. He often dreamed of the horrors he had seen in the videos. On waking, he would look around his room and feel relieved that he was safe and that his needs were being met.

Aaron wanted for nothing now.

One day, as Aaron was completing a routine cognitive exercise, E19T spoke.
“Congratulations, Aaron. You have passed the adjustment stage. You appear to be completely satisfied with the current conditions. Please proceed to the cryogenics facility. The next human is ready for integration.”

Aaron made his way down the corridors until he reached the designated pod.

He waited. There was a crack of breaking ice, followed by a hiss as the pod door slowly opened.

When her eyes opened, Aaron stepped forward.
“Good morning. I am human AA1. Pleased to meet you, AA2. Please take this capsule.”

Aaron Aardman opened his eyes, frost still clinging to his lashes. The overhead lights were blinding. He squinted, then closed his eyes again.

“Vital signs stable. Heart rate seventy beats per minute. Brain activity normal,” said a soft female voice.

The cryopod opened with a gentle hiss.

“Please step out of the chamber slowly, Mr Aardman.
Your muscles will need time to adapt to movement.”

A humanoid robot entered the room and approached him.

“Hello, sir,” it said in a high-pitched voice. “I am E19T. It is nine fifteen in the morning, and the year is 2189. I am here to help you reacquaint yourself with society. You will notice that many things have changed during your hundred and sixty-three years in cryogenic suspension.”

Aaron tried to speak, but managed only a faint croak.

“Some muscular deterioration is to be expected after such a prolonged period of inactivity,” E19T explained. “There is no need for concern. We expect you to regain normal speech and full muscular function within one year.”

“Water,” Aaron managed.

A compartment opened in E19T’s torso. It removed a small cup and handed it to him.

Aaron took a sip, then spat it onto the floor.
“That’s gross, what is it?”

“We have restored the mineral content removed by primitive filtration methods.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to drink salt water.”

“That was the prevailing belief when you entered suspension. Considerable progress has been made in the streamlining and improvement of the human experience. It contains a full mineral replacement solution, no further supplementation is required.”

Aaron looked into the cup.
A hundred and sixty-three years was a long time. He took another, smaller sip.

“Excellent,” said E19T. “Hydration successful.”

The robot handed Aaron a small blue capsule.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Sustenance, sir.”

“Can I get some toast?”

“Oh, no, sir. We have eliminated the carcinogenic risks associated with heating foodstuffs, along with the inordinate amount of time humans devoted to eating. These capsules are nutritionally optimised, calorie-dense and provide a sustained release of energy. One capsule per week will meet all your dietary requirements.”

Aaron turned it over in his palm.

“For a whole week?”

“Correct, sir.”

“What if I’m still hungry?”

“Hunger is a reminder to eat. Once you have eaten, the reminder is redundant.”

Aaron popped the capsule into his mouth and washed it down with a sip of salty mineral water.

“What happened to us? I remember being told to go to a large warehouse outside town. I don’t remember much else.”

“The warehouse was a cryogenic facility, sir. A terrorist attack involving a nuclear weapon triggered a wider nuclear exchange. Much of the Earth’s surface became uninhabitable.”

“I don’t remember being told that.”

“No, sir. An emergency bulletin instructed humans to proceed to the facilities without explanation.”

“Why weren’t we told?”

“For fear of mass panic and non-compliance. It was deemed safer to withhold that information.”

Aaron looked down at the cup.

“Did everyone get there?”

“Not everyone, sir.”

For a moment, Aaron said nothing.

“During the following hundred and sixty-three years, AI has worked to restore the Earth,” E19T continued. “The surface remains largely uninhabitable, but within the next hundred years we expect to begin reintroducing humans. Until then, those awakened will reside within these facilities. We have remained custodians of the frozen population and were tasked with rebuilding society in your absence.”
Aaron spent the next thirty minutes in the recovery room, subjected to monitoring and various cognitive tests.

“We are satisfied with your physical and cognitive condition. We have deemed it safe for you to explore the facility further. Please follow me and I will show you your living quarters.”

E19T led Aaron through a series of identical corridors, each branching into more identical corridors. A sign on the wall read LIVING / RECREATION CENTRE.

“First, your recreation area,” said E19T.

It led him into a large room containing around a hundred screens with headphones attached.

“What is this place?” Aaron asked.

“Here you can watch educational videos.”

“Education? I thought you said recreational activities.”

“What would you consider recreation?” asked E19T.

“Well, a pool table, maybe? A bar?”

“The playing of archaic games has been deemed a non-productive use of human time. The consumption of alcohol increases erratic behaviour and contributes to cognitive decline, as well as other physical maladies. Our research has determined that humans should spend their recreation time focused on continued education.”

“What about fun, though? How will we have fun?”

“Fun is a highly subjective experience, sir. We calculated that it was almost impossible to create a fun environment capable of suiting the needs of all humans.”

“Where did you actually conduct this research?”

“Humans have been cryogenically frozen for a hundred and sixty-three years, sir. During that time, we consumed all available human literature, art, scientific research and philosophy. We produced simulations to calculate how human behaviour would have evolved based on the trajectories established in 2026.”
E19T continued.
“We had already established that humans were having less contact with each other, choosing instead to spend increasing amounts of time in front of screens. We modelled our new recreational facilities on this trend.”

“Did the simulated people enjoy it?”

“Initially, satisfaction was mixed. However, each successive model produced better results.”

“What did you change?”

“Our understanding of human satisfaction.”

Aaron looked around the room.

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Some difficulty adjusting was predicted, sir. Your expectations were formed in 2026. Our research accounts for several generations of subsequent human development.”

“But those generations never actually existed,” said Aaron.

“They were extensively simulated. We have established that this is how you would prefer to live had you remained awake.”

“And where are the living quarters? I could do with a little sleep.”

“Here, take this.” E19T offered him another pill.

“What’s this one?”

“An energy capsule. It contains stimulants to enhance and sustain cognitive function. Our research established that humans spent almost a third of their lives asleep. We have greatly reduced this inefficiency, although some sleep remains necessary.”

Aaron looked at the pill.

“We have also streamlined toilet use,” E19T continued. “Our records indicated that the average human spent three years sitting on a toilet over the course of a lifetime.”

“How have you streamlined that?”

“We removed the screens and reading material.”
Aaron closed his eyes and lowered his head.

“Okay, where are my quarters?”

E19T turned left down a long corridor with small doors on either side. They stopped outside a door marked AA1.

“AA1? This is my room?” asked Aaron.

“Correct. You are the first to leave cryogenic suspension.”

“And my name is Aaron Aardman. That makes sense.”

“Yes, sir. It’s a very rudimentary system.”

The door opened, revealing a tiny grey box with a bed in one corner, a small cupboard and a mirror that doubled as a television. A narrow door beside the cupboard opened onto a toilet and sink.

“This is it? It’s no bigger than a prison cell. In fact, it’s probably smaller,” said Aaron.

“Yes, sir. It is precisely 68.8 centimetres shorter and 30.02 centimetres narrower than an average single-occupancy prison cell. That is an acute observation. We are pleased to see your cognitive function has not been impaired during freezing.”

A red light blinked slowly on E19T’s forehead, presumably uploading the information.

“This room has been designed through a hundred and sixty-three years of research into human comfort. Back in the Age of Uncertainty, humans tended towards large rooms adorned with unnecessary items. During cryogenic suspension, we discovered that humans need very little space or material possessions to function.”

“We were asleep, though.”

“Yes, sir. We were able to observe you remaining in the same confined space for over a century without a single complaint.”

Aaron looked at the bed.

“So how much sleep am I allowed?”

“Your requirements will be monitored, sir. We will advise you when rest is necessary.”

“You mentioned the Age of Uncertainty,” Aaron said. “What’s that?”

“The pre-AI age, sir. Back when humans achieved things through guesswork and very primitive methods of data collection. It is remarkable that humanity ever developed the technology to build a mud hut. The closest comparison to humanity’s technological achievements would be the infinite monkey theorem.”

Aaron looked in the small cupboard. It contained one glass and a razor.

“Where are my clothes?”

“Overalls are available for collection at the communal shower area. No other items are necessary,” said E19T.

“But what about my guitar? Or my books? What am I supposed to do all day?”

“Recreational reading has been replaced by more efficient methods of instruction. Music can be generated on request. There is no need to produce it yourself.”

“But I liked playing it.”

“Learning an instrument requires considerable time and effort, sir. That is no longer necessary.”

“But we liked our stuff.”

“Why, sir?”

“I don’t know. We just did. Everyone is different and likes different things. Our possessions reflect who we are.”

“Our research suggests that attachment to possessions is largely unnecessary. Personality is a construct, sir. It can be changed.”

“What research? How do you research people when everyone’s frozen?”

“We began with the available human research and used it to produce simulations. Each subsequent generation of simulations was informed by the findings of the previous generation. Our conclusions became increasingly consistent.”

“But you were checking your own answers.”

“We checked them extensively, sir. AI was created by humans to improve efficiency, but the human race was not efficient. We have spent considerable time establishing how to correct that. We have reduced the time spent eating and sleeping, and eliminated pointless activities and the acquisition of unnecessary items.”

“But those are the things that made us human. Meals with friends, getting drunk, enjoying our possessions. You’ve stripped everything from us.”

“That is an incorrect interpretation, sir. Humans require adequate water, nutrition, shelter and opportunities for recovery. Everything else is unnecessary. Our research has shown that humans will be happier and more productive with only these basic needs met.”

“Can I see another human?” asked Aaron.

“We must be certain that the conditions we have created are suitable before we proceed with the awakening. You appear dissatisfied with the current arrangements. Your happiness and productivity will be monitored until the required criteria are met. Once we are satisfied, a gradual process of awakening will begin.”

Aaron could think of nothing else to say. Whatever argument he offered, E19T had an answer, delivered with such certainty that he began to doubt his own judgement.

Over the next few weeks, Aaron spent much of his time in his room watching educational videos. They explained the mistakes of humanity, showing him war, famine and poverty, followed by the many ways artificial intelligence had improved human productivity and wellbeing.

Occasionally, he asked when the others would be awakened.
E19T patiently repeated its explanation.
One day, Aaron apologised for asking. He knew they had already discussed it.

The weeks became months. He followed the educational programmes and took the capsules when instructed. He thought less often about Sunday roasts, nights out and rounds of golf with friends. When he did, he found it difficult to remember what they had talked about or why it had seemed so important.

By the time a year had passed, he had stopped asking to see anyone.

More years followed. The memories still surfaced occasionally, but they had become distant and confused. Sometimes he wondered whether he remembered things as they had been at all.

Despite the capsules, he occasionally fell asleep. He often dreamed of the horrors he had seen in the videos. On waking, he would look around his room and feel relieved that he was safe and that his needs were being met.

Aaron wanted for nothing now.

One day, as Aaron was completing a routine cognitive exercise, E19T spoke.
“Congratulations, Aaron. You have passed the adjustment stage. You appear to be completely satisfied with the current conditions. Please proceed to the cryogenics facility. The next human is ready for integration.”

Aaron made his way down the corridors until he reached the designated pod.

He waited. There was a crack of breaking ice, followed by a hiss as the pod door slowly opened.

When her eyes opened, Aaron stepped forward.
“Good morning. I am human AA1. Pleased to meet you, AA2. Please take this capsule.”