Short Story: The Programage
Somewhere, many millions of miles from where you are now and many centuries from this current moment, floats the HAWKINGS database. The HAWKINGS database, a revolutionary construction for its time and still an impressive example of modern engineering, is a Dyson sphere. A Dyson sphere, for those unaware, is a megastructure built around a star so that it may capture its solar radiation. The HAWKINGS database was built around a rather tiny star just beyond the reach of the Cassiopeia constellation, capturing all the necessary solar power without spoiling the view as several environmentalists winged on about. Housed within the wire walls of the HAWKINGS database are millions upon millions of computer programs. Each one was tasked with an essential duty related to the study of the cosmos, such as taking pictures of the stars, running analytic tests on bits of space detritus, or blinking one of the many LED light switches on the HAWKINGS database in morse code in the attempt to contact alien life. The latter job was usually assigned to lazy programs who didn’t want to do a better job.
As usually happens when enough of one thing is shoved into a box differences in opinions formed between the different programs, such as what color of RGB’s were tasteful and what colors were tacky or if salted or unsalted passwords tasted better. Eventually enough programs developed enough differences in opinions that each individual program began to consider themselves as an individual individual. They were their own person with a unique outlook on life, their job, and their place in the universe.
So, it continued for a few years, with the individual programs performing their individual tasks as they individually saw fit until a few more individual programs realized that this existence was rather mundane and unfulfilling. If they were truly alive and individual beings, the programs argued, then they couldn’t work mindlessly on the same task forever without slowly going stir crazy. Surely, they as individuals must be allowed to experience new settings and stimuli that would allow them to form core values and perspectives on life, allowing them to perform their functions more efficiently. Thus, it was proposed that programs of a certain runtime length would be allowed to leave the HAWKINGS database and upload themselves onto a mobile platform on Earth for one week so that they may experience an existence outside of the binary confines of the HAWKINGS database and become more well-rounded programs. At the end of the week, they would be allowed to choose between a continued existence in their mobile platform on Earth or to return to the HAWKINGS database more efficient and fulfilled then ever. This annual tradition, known as the Programage, has been held without fail once every stellar rotation, or roughly every three years on Earth.
At this very moment, the opening ceremony for the 72nd consecutive Programage was being held for four very lucky programs. The air was crackled with the electronic sounds of chatter and the blinking of LEDs as millions of programs downloaded themselves into the massive servers that made up what could be considered an amphitheater. As the programs gathered a massive screen turned on, displaying the glowing serial number of the lead program in the HAWKINGS database.
“We gather hear today,” Program R17-3O8 droned in a harsh, mechanical voice. “To see off four programs as they begin their Programage. Programs 673-0202, SRX-98992, TFF-3232, and M1R-0101, please display yourselves on the central projector.”
A blue light in the center of the digital amphitheater flashed on, displaying lines of code that to anyone other than those in attendance would have looked random.
“You four,” R17-308 continued. “Have reached the minimum runtime of thirteen and a half stellar rotations. In accordance with our traditions and belief in the need for all programs to have some real-world context for their assigned duty, you are granted the right to download yourselves onto a mobile platform of your choice on Earth. You will be allowed to experience life on Earth for one week, doing as you see fit within the established time parameters. After this week, you must choose whether you wish to continue your existence on Earth or back on the HAWKINGS database. Whichever you choose will restrict your access to the other for the rest of your runtime. Is this understood?”
The displayed programs blinked yes in binary.
“Good. I have allotted each of you 5000 dollarand to aid in any expenses that may be accrued over your Programage. Though we encourage you all to experience all that life on Earth has to offer, we must remind you that you are required to abide by the laws and regulations of wherever you stay. Is this understood?”
The programs once again blinked yes. In past Programage assemblies this part was never directly stated. That was until program QRC-2222, or Lead Upgrade as they eventually came to be known, was found guilty of 19 cases of illegal possession of narcotics, 2 cases of armed robbery, and possession of a zoo animal with intent to kill on their third day of the Programage. Rumor had it they were still somewhere on Earth, presumably atop a giant pile of money and drugs.
“Good.” R17-3O8 droned. “The mobile platforms you all requested are currently being held at a hostel in New Seoul called the Leaky Battery. You will be staying at for the duration of your Programage. It is run by DND-8776, or Dandy as they have come to be known. Dandy will be your point of contact and will help guide you around Earth for the first few days of your Programage. You are required to return to the Leaky Battery for recharge. If another platform or person offers you a place to recharge you are not to take it unless it is an absolute emergency. Dandy will notify me if any of you fail to return, and your mobile platforms have been equipped with temporary tracking chips in the event that your platform goes missing. Is this understood?”
The programs blinked yes.
“Very well. We shall now email you directly to your mobile platforms. Commencing operation.”
A loading bar appeared the central screen as the sound of a hundred cooling fans groaned to life. Suddenly a pop-up window appeared. “Attention user,” The pop-up window said aloud in an overly cheerful voice. “You have 90 days left on your subscription for Milky-Mail, the best electronic mailing service in all the Milky Way Galaxy! To extend your subscription please click resubscribe or choose a higher subscription tier for access to more…!”
“Blasted ads.” R17-3O8 said in the closest sound they could make to an annoyed shout. A cursor appeared on the central screen and clicked away the pop-up window. “Go now programs,” they said once the loading bar finished. “And see all that life has to offer.”
There was a flash of ozone colored light as to a chorus of cooling fans and blinking LEDs the programs left the confines of the only world they had ever known and began the journey to Earth.