12. Personhood

"Let me ask you a question. I know this is going to make me sound like Hitler, or something. But sometimes, I think it would be a good idea to line up all the patients in this building in front of a ditch and just shoot 'em. You ever think about that?"
Cisco looked at Ransom through red slits in his eyelids. He wasn't the least bit shocked by Ransom's suggestion. He may even see his point of view. "No, man. Then I wouldn't have a job."
"But see, that's my point. It's your job to take care of these people. But it's a pointless job. All the manpower that's wasted on these people. It's a shame. You could better serve society doing something else."
"Like what?" smoke came out of Cisco's mouth as he talked.
"Just an example, you could be working at a cytology lab. They're doing a lot of exciting work there. They're using cellular therapy to cure Parkinson's disease. They might even one day be able to cure the patients in this building, if such a thing is possible. Hell, there are all kinds of things you could do to help move mankind into a better world. That's gotta be better than wasting your time here. You could have an exciting job in one of the three frontiers of future, biotech, nanotech, or Artificial Intelligence research."
"Naw. I'd prolly have a shitty job like the one I have now."
"Maybe, maybe not." said Ransom. "But what you're doing now is pointless. These patients of yours, they make zero contribution to society. They're trapped in perpetual infancy. They can never grow as people. Never evolve."
"Yeah, that must suck, not being able to contribute to society." Cisco put the cannabis cigarette to his mouth and took a long drag. Ransom looked around, ever vigilant, even though he was in no danger. Cisco could be fired for getting high on company time, though. He was on break from his night shift working at a home for the severely mentally handicapped. They were both hanging out in the back near the dumpsters. Cisco assured Ransom that the night manager was cool with it. He even liked to party too, sometimes.
Cisco finally exhaled. "Hey, waitaminnit. You said that the cytology people might be able to cure some of my patients. Wouldn't that be a good reason to keep them alive?"
"Okay... But what if they aren't really alive?"
"Huh?"
"What I mean is, what if there is no person there to save?" said Ransom. "What if a person's mind can become so fundamentally flawed that it can't be fixed without tearing it apart and starting over again from scratch? I told you about me friend, Ken, right? What if they discover a way to inject stem cells into his brain so that they would repair what was damaged inside his head? But when he wakes up, he's a different person."
"But why a different person?"
"Because the only way to build a human mind, the only way to make you is for you to live your life and to have the experiences you've had. Once the place where those experiences and memories are stored becomes damaged, those things are gone, and with it, your mind and soul."
Cisco thought this over for a second. "Whoa... So like, the body is still alive, but the brain is dead... But does that mean that these people have no soul?"
"What if they don't? A human being has a soul. But if you can't think or communicate, are you really human? Are you any different than an animal? Of course, I realize that this argument could be used to justify abortion, or even infanticide. Not that I approve of either of those things."
"Hey, waitaminnit. I thought that a soul was like a ghost, or something... You wanna toke of this?"
Ransom decide to end the lopsided conversation right there. He refused the offer of THC. He wanted his mind clear for what he had to do next.

Ransom had been working for two and a half months at the hospital in Baseball City. He hated it. He never realized how much he enjoyed working at the theme parks and vacation resorts until he no longer worked there.
The micro-management at the hospital was horrible. He couldn't scratch his ass without checking with a supervisor first. The management of this particular hospital kept track of the security and safety officers movement with the hospital's server. Okay, nowadays every employer kept track of every employee's movement for every moment they're on company property. It's a protective measure. This data never even sees human eyes unless there's a rather serious problem. It's out of respect for the employees. But Ransom didn't sense any respect when he was in the men's room, and his badge went audible and asked him why he was taking so long, he was needed in the lobby.
And it wasn't just with his bosses that Ransom had a hard time. Why is society's collective memory so short? After the tragedy in San Antonio, everyone was willing to bend over backwards to help out the security people. Now the sense of cooperation was just about gone. Now people find the random vehicle searches to be just a nuisance. Ransom had nine more months before he was eligible for a transfer within the corporation. He didn't know if he could make it that long. He was sure he would curse out the next nurse that got bitchy with him just because he was doing his job.

The only joy Ransom had in his life at this point was Jesse. She no longer shut everyone out. She was back running the Superhuman League. She said that she would work harder than ever towards Superhumanity. She and Ransom were talking almost every day. And every week or two, Ransom would make the three hour drive to her home in SoFlo to see her in realspace.
Jesse had made it clear that she wasn't interested in a romantic relationship at this point in her life. So they were just friends. Friends who sometimes held hands and kissed, and even talked dirty to each other.
Why was Ransom crossing such a long distance just to be friends? Was it out of charity or obligation? That can't be it. Ransom didn't want to think to hard about it. He was too busy having fun with her.

On a week that he wasn't going to go see Jesse, Ransom got a call.
Ransom, You have 1 voice message.
First new message: Diana Cedars
It was Ken's grandmother. She wanted to know why, if I was such a good friend, haven't I visited Ken. He must miss me terribly. Yada yada. I wanted to speak to you at church, but you haven't been to church in a long time. Why aren't you going to church? That stupid old bitch.
Against his better judgment, Ransom went to see Ken.

After his massive stroke, caused by his botched suicide attempt, left him with very little brain, Ken was placed in this home near Orange City, out in the boondocks. There he spent his days with the other drooling morons who were brain damaged by accident, disease, or one of God's mistakes. There he would remain.

Ransom went to the home late in the evening because he knew Francisco Moya would be working the night shift. As luck would have it, one of the night attendants used to work with Ransom back with General Telepresence. Cisco could sneak Ransom into Ken's room after visiting hours. Also, Ransom wanted to talk to Cisco. He wanted to talk to somebody, because Ken wasn't going to be doing any talking.
When he got there, Ransom immediately latched onto Cisco and started talking about nothing that was really very interesting. Cisco talked about the Magic's new starting line up. Ransom pretended to be interested, and then agreed to hang out with Cisco for a little smoke break. Eventually, Ransom realized that he was just stalling. He had to do what he came here to do.

"Hey Ken, how's it going?"
The room was dim. The only light came from a telescreen that lit up the room as it played movies. It was playing that old one from the nineteen-ninety's, Forrest Gump. Ransom wondered if Ken thought that Forrest was a genius now.
"How are they treating you here? Is the food good?" Ken was sitting in a bean bag. He was wearing clothes that he prolly would never have worn in his former life unless his washer broke down.
"Well anyway, remember that girl you used to date, the one that dumped you? Well now I'm dating here. She say I'm ten times better in bed than you ever were." Ken never took his eyes off the screen. "Christ, why did I come here?"
Ransom walked around the room. Directly outside the window was an orange tree. It was prolly one of those designer GMO orange trees patented by HGP Biotech Corporation, or perhaps even Seventh Day. A couple years ago, they were in fashion, big time. All your yuppie neighbors would look down on you if you didn't have at least one designer GMO fruit tree or plant in your yard. Those miracle trees of modern science practically take care of themselves. The just needed to be pruned now and then.
Ransom remembered the orange tree in his grandparents back yard. When he first saw it, he was amazed because up until that point he had thought that oranges came from the store. His grandfather told him that when he was a kid, there were orange groves all over the state of CenFlo, but they disappeared to make way for urban sprawl. One year, there was a hard freeze, and the tree died. A new tree grew up from the root stock. Eventually, that tree bore oranges too, but they were small, sour, and hard. Granddad talked about cutting down the root stock tree that was bred for poverty and hard times rather than producing sweet fruit. But for the longest time it stay there as a reminder of better days long gone by.
"You know, Ken, you always were a loser. I guess it was inevitable that natural selection would take you out sooner or later. They should do you a favor and pull your plug. Well, you don't have a plug. But you know what I mean. Well, no you don't. I really think that they should put a bullet in your head and finish off what you were too dumb to pull off. But all these Christians and bleeding hearts insist on keeping you alive."
Ransom got up to leave. "It's true what they say. Life never ends up the way you think it will. Years ago I thought that about how we would be starting families and have wives and kids who would play with each other. But it's like old Forrest used to say. Life is like a box of chocolates."
Ken answered back, "You never know what you're gonna get."
Ransom turned back, wide-eyed. "What did you say? What did you say?"
Ken refused to look even though Ransom's voice got louder. "What did you say, damn it!?"
Ransom moved in between Ken and the telescreen and apparently disrupted his whole world. Ken twisted his face in an awful grimace in his first display of emotion all night.
"Ken, I know you can hear me! Say something, talk to me!" Ken began to whine and moan like a twenty-five-year-old baby.
"Hey, man! You tryin to get me in trouble?" Cisco had to physically pull Ransom out of the room. Ransom had to use every bit of restraint he had to keep himself from punching the smaller man in the face.
"He talked to me! He said a line from the movie."
Cisco put his hands up in a defensive gesture. "Calm down, man. Of course he talked to you. It's echolalia. He does it all the time."
Ransom took a deep breath. "Huh?"
"He quotes dozens of movies. He really does it all the time. Look, man, you need to calm down. Maybe you should go home."