Robert Charles Wilson

Of course I remember you. I want to clarifythat point up front. Yes, Beth, of course Iremember you — Montreal 2042 — and I’mflattered you think I can contribute to yourproject in even a modest way. As for yourfinal query… well, we’ll get to that. First letme address the professional questions.

How did you discover the Affinities, and whendid you join?I was at Columbia when Kleindeinst firstachieved notoriety, and as an undergraduatepsychology student I was aware of his workin epigenetic psychology and game theory.By that time he and his allies had alreadyisolated some of thegenes that we still callby their playful klein-deinstian names: SKY-DIVER, DARKROOM,SEXY and so on; orFEARFUL, COLLECTORand GIMME (all three of which hadbeen correlated with obsessive-compulsivedisorder). But I couldn’t have guessed howinfluential his work would become, or theextremes to which it would be taken byearnest amateurs and clever entrepreneurs.

I became aware of the Affinities when thefirst purpose-built home sequencers came onthe market. I knew K’s work had progressed,that he had identified dozens of genes impli-cated in the development of personality.AndI knew that he had sorted these into eight orten clusters in which the genes interacted tosuppress or promote one another — DARK-ROOM (associated with claustrophilia andagoraphobia) usually accompanied an activeCOLLECTOR (with its attention to detail andfear of disorder), for instance.

But how shocked poor Kleindeinst musthave been when the first improvisationalAffinity tribes, their names cobbled togetherfrom his whimsical genonyms, began to play the role astrology had once fulfilled for the general public. (SEXY SKYDIVERFIREMAN sounded better than Aquarius orLeo at the singles bar. And even if you con-sidered yourself a FEARFUL DARKROOMVOYEUR you could seek out companion-ship in an Internet chatroom.)

The original Kleindeinst sequencer wasintroduced in 2038,with its venerable slogan“Know thyself”, and the fad began in earnest.I bought mine later that year.

Were the Affinity years a positive or negativeexperience for you?Much too big a question, Beth.

By 2040 I had established myself as a GENTLE OPENMINDED COLLABORA-TOR, the relevant subcodes (VOYEUR�,VERBAL�…) enamelled on the Affinitybadge I wore with no little pride. I chattedonline with other GOCs, interacted preferen-tially with GOCs at work, and in autumn ofthat year I joined the local GOC community.

To encounter other souls so much like myown was like rediscovering a lost, belovedfamily.At Affinity gatherings there was muchtalk that

wewere theembryonicbeginning of anew speciation event— remember? The future, we thought,would be inhabited by wise GOCs, troll-likeAGGRESSIVE ANGRY DISSENTERs, ethe-real PASSIVE SUBMISSIVE INNOCENTs,and so on.What madness! And yet,how goodit felt to flatter ourselves!

I booked a week off my medical practiceto attend the 2042 GOC conclave in Mon-treal. We were in full flower then, weren’t we,Beth? Because we were natural collaborators,we could interact without fear. We couldmake deals and hold ourselves to them with-out contracts; we could invest in businessesthat weren’t expected to be profitable foryears, but which, when they did return aprofit, made many of us independentlywealthy. If we failed,we drew the appropriatelessons from our failures. We rarely argued,and we seldom even raised our voices.

And, need I say, we fell in love with oneanother. That was always the most deliciousthing of all, wasn’t it? To stroll down a hotel corridor full of people speaking dozensof languages and know for a fact that each one was a potential friend or lover:to see what literary scholars call ‘the shock

of recognition’even in a stranger’s eyes.To trust without fear. It was Edenic.How could I not remember? You walked

into the gilded lobby of the Hilton,your darkhair streaming with rain, and it was allinevitable from that point onward, as it hadbeen inevitable a dozen times before, withdozens of other non-strangers. Our prefer-ences were alike, our needs. Our deepest andmost cherished desires. Ultimately, even, ourmutual boredom.

Should the Affinities be revived?Do you really need to ask?

They vanished for a reason,despiteall the weeping.It wasn’t just the con-flicts predicted by game theory: thepredatory Affinities like DISHON-

EST MIMETIC PARASITE thatinvaded GOC and stripped us

of our fortunes and our easymutual trust; it wasn’t

just the class-actionsuits accusing us ofepigenetic favouritism.Those heartbreaks and

betrayals were only themost public aspect of our

terrible disappointmentwith, in the end,ourselves.

Lest nostalgia overwhelmus, recall that the last legal home

sequencer was sold more than tenyears ago; those that remain on the sec-

ond-hand market are traded as quaintcuriosities, like Victorian Ouija boards orphrenological models of the skull.

I wonder even at the wisdom of thisresearch you’re conducting. A book aboutthe GOC Affinity? Really? Or just an excuseto renew old contacts?

Gnothi seauton,Beth.As the slogan says.

Do you remember me, and shall we meet forcoffee or drinks to discuss the book?Of course I remember — but no, we won’tmeet.

I’m married now.My wife never belongedto an Affinity, even in the good years. Shedoesn’t always laugh at my jokes, and ourrelationship is occasionally stormy.

But when I look into her eyes I do not seemyself. And that dissonance, Beth — thatimpenetrable and always-surprising other-ness — is, I have discovered, a blessingbeyond price.

I’m sorry.But I can say without fear of con-tradiction that I know you’ll understand. ■

Robert Charles Wilson has written several novels,including Hugo Award finalists Darwinia and TheChronoliths. His latest is Spin.

1164 NATURE | VOL 434 | 28 APRIL 2005 | www.nature.com/nature

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Be careful how you describe yourself.

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