Philip K. Dick's Electric Dreams

The stars are burning out, there.

The universe has grown cold.

No heat.

No energy.

Everything decays.

Everything dies.

But all it takes is two eggs.

Just two.

Two particles that become so closely entangled,

it's as if they're the same thing.

And there's no atrophy.

No decay.

No death.

But there's only me, Ed...

and I'm running out of time.

I'm home.

Sweetheart?

Hey.

- You have fun? - I almost finished the decks.

I'm a lucky man.

We have a visitor.

Really?

She wants to talk to us about life insurance double indemnity.

This is my husband, Ed.

- This is Jill. - Hello there, Mr. Morris.

_

Dangerous flooding and severe weather conditions

have forced hundreds to evacuate their homes.

Environment Agency information suggests

7,000 homes will disappear due to coastal erosion

over the next 100 years,

and home owners living in them now face the prospect

of being forced to move to safer ground.

Honey, you know the Salters' house

fell into the sea over at Sidestrand?

- Yeah? - They knew it was going to happen.

It will happen to us one day.

Oh, we'll be long gone by then.

We'll be sailing the seven seas to Ultima Thule

Eldorado, the Elysian Fields.

Sorry, what did you say?

We will set a course for the land of Cockaigne, you and me.

Ed, it's a nice idea.

I saw an ad... "Squeeze the day".

We should all squeeze the day.

You mean, "Seize the day".

No, it was a joke.

No, because we don't have long and that thought's just too terrible

to be serious about so...

Oh Ed, the eggs.

They've expired already.

I mean, look at them. These are two days old.

You folks know better than that.

Watch your food expiration.

Hands up... my fault.

Live for today, Ed!

I most certainly will.

Good morning, Su.

Good morning, madam.

Here at the Spirit Mill,

a warmer more neighbourly atmosphere is encouraged.

So, no eye recognition, just good old sweat and print...

and a reasonable vocal range.

These days we take cognitive chimeras for granted.

Jacks, Jills and other sentient fusions are everywhere...

at work, at play.

Maybe we have some amongst us right now.

How would you know?

The surgical implanting of a quantum consciousness,

or QC, has revolutionised our relationship with them.

It means they have become us.

In fact, I have a confession...

I'm a Jack myself!

How's my driving?

Thank you. Thank you.

Feel free to look around.

They're so beautiful.

A QC is a fundamental entanglement of human and...

porcine genetics,

why wouldn't it be beautiful?

Can they think?

Can they dream?

Well, they have no experience.

They're possibility, latent potential.

What people used to call the animus, or soul.

These QCs animate the body.

Are you in the field?

Me? No.

I'm in insurance.

Well, these are projections of the real thing

but, actually, they're very small.

Can I see?

Sure.

- Well, we call these berries. - Mm-hm.

And...

each berry holds...

a QC.

That's completely self-contained.

It has everything it needs to survive, like an egg.

Supposing you released one?

The QC would vanish.

Then what?

Then... nothing.

No QC, no life.

- Oh! - Oh!

Thank you. Numb fingers.

- Edward. - Mr. Director, sir.

Excuse me, Miss.

- Good morning. - Good morning.

Two Jacks, two Jills.

Without QCs, they're shells, really.

Despite skills, emotions and knowledge,

they have no self-awareness.

No spark. No empathy.

- How are you feeling? - I feel...

good.

I feel fine.

Hello.

Tell me what you're thinking right now at this moment.

I'm thinking...

I'm thinking...

I'm thinking about thinking.

Meta-cognition.

Hmm?

Makes you well up, doesn't it?

- You all right? - I'll be fine.

Can I help?

If you missed the bus, I can give you a lift.

Thank you.

I'm Ed by the way, Ed Morris.

Jill.

I'm a Jill.

I guessed.

Not one of ours.

I'm from the City Spirit Mill.

You'll still help me, won't you?

Of course.

Please.

- Nelson's Blood. - What?

What's that?

- He knows. - Nelson's was born here.

Two.

Is that a good idea? Whatever it is?

It's a very good idea.

You're failing, aren't you?

Yeah.

How long have you got?

You people.

My last boyfriend was a normal.

You think it's okay to say stuff to us

- you'd never say to your wife. - I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to be insensitive.

In fact, I'm a big believer in neural network equality.

Well, thanks a lot, Ed.

So, tell me about Mr. Normal.

I work at the Spirit Mill. I live out on Cliff Park Estate.

Wife? Kids?

Wife, yes. Kids, no.

We tried.

- You tried? - The test tube thing, all that.

How long have you got in your estate?

Coastal erosion the way it's been going...

Maybe a year.

Then what?

You and Mrs. Ed just going to work through your term, retire,

get moved to another crumbling estate.

Not us. Not me and Sally.

We're going on a trip. A voyage.

A voyage?

Where?

Out there... somewhere.

The high seas, Eldorado.

Sounds dangerous, Ed.

Yes.

It is.

It is.

Mm.

Hey.

You going somewhere?

Sail with the falling tide, out of the creek,

past the point,

sailing with a fair wind on the tidal flow.

Ed, there's nothing there.

They wouldn't let you anyway.

What if I found a way to do it?

Ed, dishonest lives are sad lives.

What about your job?

Our home? What about me?

You're coming with me.

Oh, God, this is a just a stupid fantasy, Ed.

The Salters relocated further up the coast where it's stable,

and Amy says it feels just like home.

The potatoes turned.

And the leeks, too.

But they only just arrived today.

I think your expiration dates are getting shorter.

Nothing last forever.

I don't think they need to be so short.

I just do my job, Mr. Morris.

- Morning, madam. - Good morning, Su.