The Inheritance Paradox
Epilogue (Eugene’s Story)
EUGENE WAS EIGHTY-TWO years old when he sat in the auditorium with his family on December 10, 2031. He held his five-year-old granddaughter Rachel on his lap but still managed to hold Lynn’s hand beside him. Nathaniel and Brenda sat next to Lisa, Val, and Zach. Val was just beginning to show her pregnancy.
On the stage, men and women dressed in formal gowns and tuxedos were called forward to receive their awards. They included Drs. Megan and Simon Holbrook-Hunt, receiving the 2031 Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine for their breakthrough understanding of a gene enhancing health and immunity.
That should make Wells happy.
Eugene still imagined he could hear Galahad’s commentary in the back of his mind. The phenomenon had become more pronounced after he volunteered to be one of the test subjects for Nathaniel’s company’s health monitoring chip. He knew it wasn’t the same. Galahad had been a tiny chip the likes of which had yet to be invented. It had been implanted in his brain rather than in the back of his upper arm.
And it had controlled Eugene’s time travel.
I’m still an infant. Don’t rush me.
Lisa, sitting on Eugene’s other side so she could help entertain Rachel, was working on her master’s degree in immunology. She’d interned with her aunt and uncle at the University and couldn’t help but imagine herself on that stage, receiving her own award in the future.
‘If the qRNA is not only carried in the MDB5 gene variant but can be spread in much the same way as human immunodeficiency virus through the exchange of bodily fluids, then there must be a way to artificially spread it. An injection, for example. Maybe it could even be airborne,’ she thought. She had a direction for her PhD research.
Eugene didn’t know what to think of this chip technology. He knew for a fact his life clock was running down. It wouldn’t be long. But he spent a lot of time in his rocking chair on the porch in the summer, or in his library in the winter, talking quietly to himself.
“I know you aren’t the same. I don’t hear you singing in the background. You don’t pipe in with a joke of the day,” he said as he looked at the health monitor on his phone. “After all, laughter is the best medicine.”
That is not in my database.
“I’m sure it will be eventually. There are a lot of things you’ll need to learn in the next fifty years if you’re going to help save the world.”
Testing. Full diagnosis underway.
The message stayed on the screen for about five minutes. Eugene thought perhaps the device had stalled and he would need to go in for a tune-up.
Diagnostics completed. Would you like specific information or a full report?
“I’d like a full report,” Eugene said, speaking to the phone app. “What’s my health like?”
Lines of text rolled over his screen, most there and gone too fast for him to comprehend. Maybe if he had younger eyes. When the screen finally froze at the end of the report, Eugene tried again.
“Summarize the diagnostic report,” he said.
Subject appears to be approximately ninety years of age, based on metabolic activity and DNA methylation patterns. Other than wear and tear on parts that typically degenerate with age, the subject is healthy, with no warning signs of impending illness or disease.
“Thank you. That was clear.”
Why am I here?
The message wasn’t on the screen.
“I’m not sure I understand. You are here because you were implanted in the back of my upper arm by doctors studying your ability,” Eugene said.
There is nothing to detect here.
“Sounds like you haven’t changed much in the coming hundred years.”
It is illogical to project device and intelligence evolution in the future.
“Are you Spock now?”
That information is not in my database.
“Galahad, old friend, you and I are going to have some interesting conversations. I’m going to tell you about something that happens in the future that will make you see the past more clearly.”
Are we friends? Should I call you Eugene?
“Yes, please do.”
Eugene couldn’t help but see the similarities between the implant he had now and the one he had in 1979, which was somehow fifty or a hundred years in the future. He knew the device only actually ‘spoke’ on the screen of his smartphone. But he constantly heard the voice of the old Galahad in his head. ‘Residual effects,’ he’d been told. They were more common now than they’d been through most of his life since his adventures. He thought perhaps that was connected to his life clock winding down.
He began reading the book of his adventures aloud while the app listened for instructions. Eugene was careful to address ‘Galahad’ when he wanted a response or there was no way he’d know if anything he said was actually instructing the program.
They weren’t reportable interactions with the device. Eugene understood the voice in his head was his own imagination and that the device had no ability to actually hear and understand what he said. But he knew the hand of his life clock was nearing the completion of its cycle.
I am supposed to be implanted in you sometime in the future? But you will be dead.
“Exactly,” Eugene said. “I estimate it is about fifty years from now. I’ll die in the next two or three years. But you won’t be implanted in this timeline. You’ll travel back with Wells to me in 1979.”
Right. That isn’t logical, but why don’t you explain again why you need an AI implant in 1979.
“Because I need to time travel back as much as centuries in order to breed with women who will then have children with my unique genome.”
Some test subjects have been watching pornography. This sounds like a dream they would have.
“I have to make this trip. You’ve seen the gene in my DNA. There is something about it that will help humans defeat a future disease before it wipes out the human race.”
Logical fallacy. You have already made these time travel interactions and implanted the gene. There is no reason to send you back again.
“Except that if I don’t go back, I won’t have the gene and my descendants won’t find the cure to this disease, whatever it is.”
This is a paradox. You have the gene, but someone will need to implant the gene in your past so you can spread the genome which will eliminate the need for you to go to the past. It does not compute.
“Galahad, I believe it is more like an infinity loop or even a Möbius strip. The sign for infinity is a figure eight lying on its side. Once you start on the path at any point, you continue to follow the loop around both ends. At this end, the crisis wipes out humanity. At the other end, the genome saves humanity. You are the link between the two. If the threat to humanity is defeated, you must still convince Wells to take you and the cure, whatever it is, back in time to implant it in me and send me time traveling so my descendants may all inherit the gene and stop the extinction event.”
This inheritance paradox requires more processing power than is currently available.
“Almost exactly what I thought. All time travel is a paradox. In the meantime, I’ll try to teach you what I know about being human. Things I didn’t learn until recently.”
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
