"I'm not sure if I want the other Jon to come back," admitted Karyn. "He wished himself out of this reality for a reason. Even if he could come back if conditions eventually allow his wish to be non-binding, he'd disappear again if another robot war ever appeared on the horizon."
"Maybe he can make a wish that specifies the word 'live' for the purpose of that other wish to mean only in the strict biological sense, which would allow him to stay here if he becomes synthetic," offered Jon.
"That could work," agreed Karyn. "But would you be willing to go back to your world then? Think about it. If there are two of you here, there's a family and a Karyn in your world who are going to miss Jon, and it's not going to be fair to your friends and family here to have them divide their attentions between you. That's sort of the reason we don't like copying people. If you go back, though, you're going to be an advanced robot who has to make it at least fifteen years before the technology to maintain you will exist, unless you turn back on this operation today. In my opinion, because the other Jon specifically chose to leave this world, you did nothing wrong by replacing him, and you have every right to stay if you want. The two of you are enough alike that you're not really hurting anyone with this switch. "
"Oh, for crying out loud. I wish that for the next five minutes, Karyn and I could communicate with the other version of me that replaced me in my original reality," blurted Jon. "Let's just ask the other me instead of making assumptions."
"Sounds like a good idea," said the other Jon in a most agreeable tone. The console screen in Karyn's car flickered and Jon's face appeared. "Hello, me. What did you want to ask?"
"I've been having fun in your world. Even if a war is coming, I kind of want to see how it all plays out," began Jon. "But we figured out a way to put us both back to where we-- belong, if that's okay with you."
"I really do think I'd rather be 18 in the Second Great Depression than in World War IV," replied other-Jon dismissively. "But supposing we were to do it, how would it work?"
"You could come back if there were no longer a looming robot war," suggested Jon. "Either we decisively prevent it or fight and finish it."
"That would be a few years. Years I'd be spending getting comfortable in this world. I'm happy here. Karyn is my age and we grew up best friends, but I'm afraid we're a little more than that now. The stuff I learned in high school in my reality, I can apply to advancing this world a little farther than otherwise. I'm no super genius but I've been working as groundskeeper for this guy who's got money and connections. I get a free pass to attend any of his big parties-- officially as an usher, but still, it's an inside angle. I can explain the basic structure of AI to his friends in the tech business, a few secrets for mass-producing carbon nanotubes and large graphene sheets, and a couple major hurdles for keeping a disembodied brain on life-support. I may not really know that much, but I know who to tell it to, and it just might bring on the synthetic revolution five years ahead of schedule. It might allow our side to get those power suits and giant robots in time to end World War III one or two years sooner. Back there, I was nobody. Here, I can make a difference, and I think I can be happy here, if it's all right with you." Other-Jon seemed dead serious with his heartfelt plea.
"I'm sorry I called you a coward." Karyn leaned over to the screen.
"No, I am a coward. Or at least I was when I left and I still am regarding the thought of coming back," dismissed other-Jon. "How about you, me? How has it been for you?"
"I ran away to Texas with Karyn and am about to begin training as a robot tech followed by a degree in humanoid technology, which will set me up with a solid career working for this lady who's promised to make me manager of her shop once I finish school. In the meantime she's paying for my operation to make me a metahuman, which starts in-- twelve minutes."
"See, you're already going after everything my world has to offer. I really think-- this switch was perfect for the both of us. To you, your world was boring. To me, my world was scary. But your world feels safer to me, while my world is interesting to you. But at the same time I'm willing to try to make your world a little more interesting while you seem to be willing to work to make my world a little safer," explained other-Jon. "You called to ask permission to go through with the operation, didn't you? Because if you do, that's the point of no return."
"Yes," replied Jon. "Are you really happy there?"
"Yes. I say go for the operation, and good luck," other-Jon said, smiling.
"Time's almost up; I only wished for five minutes," Jon warned, taking a deep breath. "I just want to say your wish not to live in a world with a looming robot war might make you disappear from that world too when the time comes. I thought of a way around it - you don't have to 'live' in that world if you are not alive in the traditional strict biological sense, by which I mean go for the operation yourself when it's available on your side. You might have to make a wish to clarify that bit of semantic finagling though. "
"That's good to know. Maybe I'll wish up a way for us to talk again on a more periodic recurring basis." Other-Jon's image began to fade, and the screen flickered back to the GPS.
"I think I'm going crazy. I just spent the last five minutes talking to myself," joked Jon.
"So this is it-- you're here for good?" asked Karyn.
"I guess so. It's operation time. Here goes nothing." Jon screwed up his courage and got out of the car, heading into the clinic.
Jon made his way to the waiting room and browsed the news on one of the readers there. He tried his best not to think too hard about the fact that at the end of the day he would be leaving the clinic as a Japanese girl.
One step at a time.
Jon was taken to a small operating room and anesthetized. He woke up with some kind of video display goggles over his eyes and earbud headphones in his ears, with an uncomfortable feeling that his skull had probably been cut away. He was firmly strapped to a table.
"Are you awake, Jon?" asked the doctor. "I'm Phil, your friendly neighborhood neurocyberneticist."
"Uh, yeah. Hi, Phil," said Jon groggily.
"A little adrenaline please," said Phil. "Let's try again. How are you today?"
"Just peachy considering that I'm about to undergo a sex change," Jon replied.
"That's better." Phil sounded like an old pro at this. "This is going to be a long day, but the best way to get this done as quickly as possible is for you to not think too hard about following my instructions. When I tell you to do something, you do it and don't think about it, got it?"
"Yes, sir."
"We're going to begin with calibrating your sense of touch. We are simply going to take a pair of probes, rather like dull pencils, and poke you or stroke you on both bodies simultaneously in the same place or the nearest we can manage, several times all over. You do not need to say anything."
What Jon did not expect after that was being unable to tell which body was being touched when only one was. If this continued Jon really would start feeling like he was in two places at once.
Then Jon felt his arms and legs being freed from the straps. His torso and neck were still firmly locked down.
"Lift your left leg, bending the knee," ordered Phil. "Good. Lower it."
Jon was amazed for a moment as he lowered his leg, for the split second as he registered a double sensation of his heel touching the table. He went on to do the same with his other leg and arms.
It seemed like hours to get through the sounds, smells, and images of the rest of the calibration phase. It actually had been a few hours. Jon found himself drifting off into a drug-induced dream state, dimly hearing Phil announce: "Synchronization at maximum, commence phase two."
"For the rest of the procedure we will be working in virtual reality," said Phil. "We are now interested in pulling over as much of your mind as possible. The more you recall, visualize, and recount, the more of your memory we can preserve. Normally we end up with virtually zero memory loss when the appropriate preparations are made. Let's start with what you remember from your earliest days as a toddler, when you first learned to formulate thoughts as words..."
By the time Jonnie felt like she had covered everything, it had been a long day. It was about as much of an ordeal as it would be to watch the entire Lord of the Rings saga in their extended cuts in one sitting, or perhaps a whole season of some television series. "...so I'm willing to do this to secure a great career even if it means being a girl for a few years," she finished. At some point Jonnie's virtual avatar and voice had been gradually shifted to reflect her new body, which was weird but made sense.
"Well, I've got news, Jonnie," said Phil, pausing dramatically. "You've been dead for forty-five minutes. Procedure complete. Time to wake up."
