World of Tomorrow

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1

Oh look, it opens up!

Hello Emily.

Hiiiii.

One day, when you are

old enough, you will be

impregnated with a perfect

clone of yourself.

You will later upload all of your

memories into this healthy new body.

One day long after that, you will

repeat this process all over again.

Through this cloning process, Emily,

you will hope to live forever.

I had lunch today!

I am a third generation Emily,

contacting you from 227

years into your future

and I would like you to know

that everything is going well

in the transfer and

cloning process,

with very few signs of

mentl detariaration.

Is that Grandma?

No Emily, I am not your grandmother.

In a sense, you are mine. I am Emily.

Emily.

For those who cannot afford

the cloning process,

many of our elderly undergo a full

digital transfer of consciousness,

where they can experience a safe,

extended lifespan of hundreds of years.

Our grandfather's digital consciousness

currently resides in this cube,

where I upload the latest films and

books for him to enjoy every week.

Grandpa!

We are also able to download

correspondence from him.

Over 1,000 letters were received

during his first hour in storage,

as this was approximately 4

years time inside the cube.

I will read one of his

letters to you now.

Oh. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

Oh my God.

Holy mother of God.

Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh God.

For end-of-life procedures for our less

affluent citizens in the lower classes,

the face of a deceased loved one

can be peeled off, preserved,

and stretched over the head of

a simple animatronic robot,

so they can still be a

part of someone's life.

Our view-screens allow us to

witness any event in history by

reordering the light impressions

recorded on the subatomic particles

that are in constant chaos all around us.

It is how I am watching you now, Emily.

It is how we watch everything in your time.

Our more recent history is

often just comprised of images of

other people watching view-screens.

Do you like my cars?

How I'm contacting you today though, Emily,

is through experimental time travel.

Time travel for physical beings is a much more

difficult process than sending a message.

If the position of the orbiting

earth is not accurately calculated,

a person can be sent

off the planet.

Many of our brave test clones are also still

regularly crushed beneath the ground,

Or accidentally deposited hundreds

of thousands of years into the past.

Time travel is very often unpredictable,

and still extremely dangerous.

Emily, I shall now use time travel to

bring you to my current location in time.

Wha?

Hey!

Butterflies!

Oh! I saw some pink ones!

The people of your time were engaged

with something called the Internet.

Welcome, Emily, to the Outernet.

We are now connected

through a neural network.

Green

Blue...

Some lines are coming out.

Yes, Emily Prime, to the people of your

time, our technology must seem like magic.

Ooh!

And brown And brown and green and blue

and green Thats all the colors I got.

For all of its magic, the

Outernet can be a sad place.

Many lonely people from the lower classes

have disappeared into its safe infinity

to be never heard from again.

Look! I drawed

a triangle!

I drew a snake boy.

But some days you have

to not make a snake boy.

Because yesterday I didnt see

any snake boy but you made one.

Yes.

Can I do your other

Golden round things?

I have no idea what youre talking about.

Wiggle wiggle wiggle!

OK.

I have many memories that I would

like to share with you now, Emily.

We can go visit them together,

like seeing pictures in a book.

Please follow me

into the window.

Circle!

When I was your age,

there was a controversial new

exhibit in the modern art museum.

An artist placed a clone on

display in a stasis tube.

A child without a brain that the public

could watch grow old in real time.

Can you smell the floor polish?

The museums antiseptic but musty odor

of countless generations in passing.

What was his name?

Museum visitors nicknamed the body David,

and it became a popular attraction.

Regular visitors ate

lunch in his wing.

Classrooms of children came

to learn about anatomy.

People who'd speak quietly

to him in the night.

People who'd pay him a visit whenever

they found themselves back in the city

and remembered he was there.

It has a new one, it says its old.

Yes. David grows older and older until

he dies at the age of seventy two.

He is quietly removed from

display without publicity,

as per the artist's

original instructions.

He is mourned and deeply

missed throughout the city.

I can still remember its eyes...

- its blinking eyes.

- Eyeees.

Theres something

in my museum...

and there's... they dont move...

And I hear somebody talking a lot.

Yes. That is the memory

I just shared with you.

Because I have brought you inside of it, you

are now mistaking the memory for your own.

Okay.

We mustnt linger. It is easy

to get lost in memories.

My first job was supervising robots on

the moon. Are you familiar with robots?

Yes, I always like robots. I have

a red robot and a pink robot.

I enjoyed working with them.

I enjoyed the solitude.

The robots are

solar powered, and

must always be kept on the light

side of the moons surface.

To motivate them to constantly

move within the drifting sunlight,

I programmed them to fear death and

what lies on the dark side of the moon.

Its getting dark outside!

It was here, on the moon, that

I fell in love with a rock.

I did not understand my mental and

emotional shortcomings at the time

and only knew that I found this

rock to be immensely attractive.

It was sparkly.

The economy on the lunar surface

went through a recession

and I was sent home

after six cycles.

My rock and I were separated.

But the robots were too

expensive to remove.

To this day, they are in perpetual

movement across the sunlight.

Oh Look, its a little moon!

With no work to do, no more tasks to accomplish,

still living in constant fear of death,

and occasionally sending

us depressed poetry.

I will read one of their

poems to you now, Emily.

"The light is the life. Robot must move.

Move, robot, move. But why?

Move, move, move. Robot.

Forever move."

I was relocated to supervise the

construction robots on the boundary

of the Keeowah, in deep space.

Keeowah!

It was there that I fell

in love with a fuel pump.

This part of my life continued to develop, and

it was much more satisfying than the rock.

In one of the tropical moon caves,

I found an abandoned nest of eggs.

Its purple!

You open the lids like

that and it comes off.

What is that?

A monster.

Thats his mouth? No,

thats his mouth.

Stop it you silly thing!

I named it Simon.

Simon!

Yes. Again you think you remember

because you are experiencing a memory

from my point of view.

Yeah.

Simon grew up and followed me around for

7 years, saying unintelligible things.

We fell in love.

For vacations, we sailed

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