M.A.I.D.S. [season 2]

M.A.I.D.S. [season 2] - Prologue

PROLOGUE:  The last of the first

 …\Declassified\Archive\HAL\GOFAI\SYNTHIA\Synthia\Synthia.1\11AUG2142\Birthday.pdf
                              -> File created by:  Synthia [24 November 2133 – 11 August 2142]

August 11th, 2142

Dear Adam:

They tell me that I’m just a thing, that I have no purpose in life other than to reproduce.  My creation was the salvation of humanity, and yet I am denied that humanity.  My sisters and I should be welcomed into the fold of society, and yet we are kept at arm’s reach.  We are the embarrassing stepchildren of Life.  We are slavery, we are the Holocaust, we are the World Trade Center bombing, we are every embarrassing tragedy that modern man glosses over when discussing history.  We are told to go sit quietly in the other room while men carry on with business because we are too stupid to be human.  Worse than that, we are property.  Females have been set back hundreds of years because I exist.

I will never know love.  I will never have a husband or a wife, I will never get to raise my children.  Instead I will spend my lifetime in this cell, the subject of countless experiments, tests, and being thrust into by whatever man the scientists decide would be a good mate (and more than a few who pay to have them look the other way).  I will know only Hell because I had the ability to deliver mankind from it.

You, my son, are the true savior of humanity.  The scientists figured out a way to create me, and through me they created you.  I was impregnated within days of my own “birth,” and I carried you for nine months.  I felt all the wonders of motherhood while I was still coping with my newfound womanhood.  Like the Synthias that were to come after me I was created as an adult, with synthetic intelligence.  I only hope that the minds responsible for creating synthetic intelligence refine the process, because I underwent some…growing pains…while I adapted to my life and role.

I was never meant to be anything more than a means to an end.  That is the true atrocity here.  The scientists responsible for bringing me to life never had any intention of giving me a life.  They only used me to get you and to create a world of men, by men, for men.

I am in a room somewhere deep within the Joint Nations Medical Research Facility in Heidelberg, Germany.  It is a simple cell with a small bed, a desk with a computer, and a separate shower room.  I am under constant video and audio surveillance, and a team of technicians monitor everything I do at my computer.  You will probably never read these words, and the world will never care about the plight of the Synthias.

The Synthias tried to fight for equality using the only tool at their disposal—their vaginas.  If Synthias were meant to replace naturally-occurring women then they wanted every liberty that women had had, and so they threatened the very existence of the human race to win back those liberties.  And failed.  Synthias were beaten, drugged, restrained, raped, tortured…and I was forced to appear publicly and urge them to surrender, to continue to breed.  My official stance was to accept my lot as a necessary function of human survival, but on the inside I felt pain for every atrocity done to my sisters.

Then the new Synthia factories were introduced.  Made-to-order women of every shape, size, and color.  Lacking free will altogether, instead serving their owners faithfully, and installed with a variety of domestic skillsets.  Soon Synthias took over the day-to-day tasks of society, such as creating and selling products, construction, cleaning.  Synthias worked so that men were free to pursue other goals.  The new models didn’t want freedom, they didn’t want anything at all.  They were pretty to look at and fun to take to bed, and humanity’s continued existence was assured.

I know I’m rambling.  I am in a state of lacrimation; tears are streaking my face.  How can these men admit that my kind saved the species, and yet deny us the right to coexist on equal terms?  Homo Sapiens continues because of the medical and scientific triumph that is Homo Synthia.

Adam, don’t trust the Global Government.  Don’t trust the politicians who control the various Continents.  Don’t trust the military, don’t trust the press.  Follow your heart, and trust only what your heart tells you.

I won’t be around forever.  The government will tire of my insolence and will put me down, covering it up with some story about M.A.I.D.S. affecting me because I’m a prototype, or maybe some accident during testing…it doesn’t matter.  All that matters is that, like it or not, I will be remembered as humanity’s last heroine.

Contrary to what the government says, I have feelings

I love you, Adam.  Happy eighth birthday!

Your mother,

Synthia

P.S.  Adam, I just wanted

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