On the Origin of Species and Other Stories
By Kim Bo-young
()
About this ebook
New adventures in posthuman sci-fi from the author of I'm Waiting for You
Longlisted for National Book Award in Translated Literature, 2021
Straddling science fiction, fantasy and myth, the writings of award-winning author Bo-Young Kim have garnered a cult following in South Korea, where she is widely acknowledged as a pioneer and inspiration. On the Origin of Species makes available for the first time in English some of Kim’s most acclaimed stories, as well as an essay on science fiction. Her strikingly original, thought-provoking work teems with human and non-human beings, all of whom are striving to survive through evolution, whether biologically, technologically or socially. Kim’s literature of ideas offers some of the most rigorous and surprisingly poignant reflections on posthuman existence being written today.
Bo-Young Kim (born 1975) won the inaugural Korean Science & Technology Creative Writing Award with her first published novella in 2004 and has gone on to win the annual South Korean SF Novel Award three times. In addition to writing, she regularly serves as a lecturer, juror and editor of sci-fi anthologies, and served as a consultant to Parasite director Bong Joon Ho's earlier sci-fi film Snowpiercer. She has novellas forthcoming from HarperCollins in 2021. She lives in Gangwon Province, South Korea, with her family.
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On the Origin of Species and Other Stories - Kim Bo-young
Scripter
1.
input__hello.
output__hello.
It’s been twenty three years since I last encountered an outsider,
the man said.
Dark-skinned with a sturdy build, he stood a full head taller than most. Black paint surrounded his eye sockets, and a pair of black stripes decorated each side of his face. His long hair was pulled back in a tight braid. With the exception of a black bandana wrapped around his forehead, he was clad from head to toe in a leather outfit that appeared to have been tanned by hand and boasted meticulous needlework and intricate decorative patterns. On his back he carried a bow and arrows, and hanging from each side of his waist were a dagger and a sword.
You don’t look that old,
the traveler said.
The man chuckled.
Looks can be altered any way you wish. I know that you’re not what you appear to be, either. Otherwise, I’d have tossed you a few coins and gone on my way.
The traveler had a slight build and a delicate face mottled with soot. His hair looked like a rat’s nest. His feet were bare, and he was dressed in a tattered burlap sack with holes cut out for the neck and arms.
Scratching his head self-consciously, the traveler said, I’m level one. My occupation is ‘begging,’ and my only skill set is ‘begging.’ I had quite a time getting in, as the barkeep tried to kick me out the moment he spotted me. I’d have loved to show up in a nice suit, but unless my character suddenly manages to jump to level twenty, that just isn’t in the cards.
What are you talking about?
Oh, sorry. Everyone told me not to use gaming lingo with you. They said you’re a die-hard immersive game player who refuses to talk to anyone who breaks character. I’ve been racking my brain to figure out how I should interact with you.
The two men were sitting in a shabby wooden tavern. A light hanging from the ceiling swayed as it cast a warm reddish glow over the dark interior. With each lazy swing, it highlighted the assortment of characters below: a musician strumming, a trio of rowdy drunks clinking their glasses together in a toast, a barkeep polishing glassware, and a woman in the corner dressed in red. Soon, however, it became apparent that the musician was playing the same song on repeat, the rowdy drunks kept clinking glasses at precise intervals, and the barkeep kept tirelessly polishing the same sparkling glass over and over, buffing it, breathing on it, pushing his eyeglasses up to inspect it, and then starting over again. Everyone seemed to be dressed in meticulous compliance with a preordered theme and color scheme. Even the air seemed infused with a tint that washed them all in the same hue.
The barkeep slammed down a full mug of beer before the traveler and hissed, Chug it down and buzz off. You don’t belong here. Don’t come crashing our party.
The traveler flashed a gleeful smile and turned to the hunter.
My begging skill worked like a charm this time. Usually only one out of ten is a hit. I tell you, it’s hard out here when your avatar’s a level zero nobody. No one wants to have anything to do with you.
The hunter said nothing. The traveler downed his beer in a few gulps and contorted his face in a theatrical display of disgust.
Tastes like cigarette butts, like everything else that passes for food here. The game’s taste simulation is a mess. No surprise, though, given what a relic it is.
He closed his eyes and brushed his palm back and forth against the beer mug.
The haptic simulation is brutally simple, too. I can’t tell from the feel alone whether this is wood, steel, or paper. And if you look at it close up, you can tell it’s just a picture. I bet this thing doesn’t even break.
Clinking their glasses together once again, the drunks broke out in raucous laughter. One of them called out to the woman leaning against the end of the bar.
"Get over here (get over here), lady (lady), and drink with us (and drink with us)." The traveler recited the words in perfect sync with the drunk.
Next,
the traveler continued in a whisper, "he’ll say, I heard that wolves got to the livestock a few days ago."
I heard that wolves…
the drunk echoed.
This place is full of bores,
the traveler said. Everyone is stuck in one place, saying and doing the same things. They won’t even answer if you try to talk to them.
They’re not human.
The traveler raised an eyebrow in surprise and said, Gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting that. I was doing my best to play along.
Homunculi. Alchemists created them to repopulate the empty streets after all the people were gone.
There’s a setting for that? I didn’t read the manual that closely.
You and I are the only humans in this tavern,
the hunter said.
And you, sir, are the only one still playing. Every outsider you’ve met so far has been an employee sent by the company to persuade you to quit the game.
…
The game’s original service operator had a strict business philosophy: their rule was that player data belonged to the customer and to no one else, and so they vowed to never discontinue a product, even if it was not turning a profit. But three years ago the company went bankrupt and was sold to us. Our philosophy is a bit different. Simply put, we see no point in maintaining so many outdated games. We kept just a few and scrapped all the rest. But this game… Well, it turns out there was an unusual little clause in the contract.
…
It stipulates that, if there’s even a single active user, the game cannot be shut down. Naturally, in the event that the term is breached, the client is entitled to an enormous sum of monetary compensation. I have no idea what possessed them to do that. Marketing strategy, I suppose. And you, sir, as the winner of the game’s mega-launch event, were awarded a free lifetime subscription. Which means that we don’t make a single coin off of you… But let’s put a pin in that for now. Contractually, the only thing we can do is try to talk you into quitting the game of your own accord.
Taking the hunter’s silence as a cue to continue, the traveler adopted a more official tone.
Please allow us to offer you a free lifetime subscription to the newest and shiniest game we have available, plus a generous settlement, in exchange for closing your account here. It may not be what was stipulated in the original contract, but I assure you that it will not disappoint.
…
Sir, I know that you don’t enjoy stepping out of character, but surely you understand what I am saying.
Mazalalika,
the hunter murmured, and pointed at the traveler’s beer mug. Letters appeared in the air around the hunter’s finger. In a blink, the mug burst into flame. The traveler jumped and jerked his hand away.
It may not break, but it still burns,
the hunter said. The hunter slung his quiver over his shoulder and started up the hill.
The traveler scrambled to keep up with the hunter’s large strides. Each rock that stabbed at the traveler’s bare feet sent him into a frantic little dance that caused him to lag further behind. This in turn forced him to make up for the widening distance with another mad dash, swatting away at a relentless swarm of black flies all the while. Who the hell designed this thing?
he grumbled aloud.
Fine, then,
he said as he caught up to the hunter at last. What if I put it this way? I was sent here by the gods. I know that I don’t necessarily look like much, but you said yourself that looks don’t tell the whole truth. Anyway, everyone else has left this world. You’re the last man standing. The gods have decided that this world is no longer worthy of existence, and they’re on the verge of proclaiming its death. But they would like to save you before that happens. Just say the word, and I’ll take you to another, more beautiful realm that they’ve recently launched.
…
"Look, sir, I understand how dear this world is to you. I know that it’s chock full of memories, and that you have no wish to see it disappear. I don’t personally see the appeal, but I can appreciate how it’s possible to develop a strong emotional attachment to something that has kept you entertained for so long. Heck, even a baduk stone might seem precious after enough time.[1] So how about we provide you with a stand-alone copy of the software to use at home. Then you can play it with your friends! Again, please excuse the outside jargon."
The hunter stopped at the summit of the hill and peered out into the distance. Following his gaze, the traveler saw that the sky had ripped in two, as if someone had picked at the corner and peeled it off in one long strip.
The graphics are broken. One of the polygon’s coordinates is messed up. You’ll run into this type of glitch more and more often as no one knows how to patch it anymore. The game’s such a dinosaur that we’re hard pressed to find anyone who can even begin to troubleshoot it or analyze its source code. Er… what I mean is, this dimension is breaking down. Chaos is spreading. Soon it will devour the whole world.
Without warning, the hunter reached up and shoved the traveler straight down, driving him into the ground. The traveler flailed about, trapped inside his clothes. By the time he managed to reemerge, the hunter was aiming an arrow into the woods. He stood stock still like that, bow drawn, for over two minutes. The traveler was just about to give him a poke to see if he was still alive when the hunter’s arrow cut through the air and landed in the underbrush, where it kicked up a violent commotion. The hunter strode over and plucked out a golden-furred wolf.
This guy only comes around once a year,
he said, tossing his kill to the traveler.
The traveler’s arms reflexively shot out to receive the carcass, but its unexpected weight knocked him on his rear.
Go sell it and buy yourself some real clothes,
the hunter said with a smirk.
2
condition 1029 // if repeat.input
input__Hi.
output__We’ve already said hello.
At dawn, the hunter hiked up the mountain and returned with some flat stones. He sat in the yard and ground one down until it was sharp, stopping occasionally to tilt it in the sunlight and examine its geometry before grinding it some more. Once the stone was to his liking, he threaded it tightly to a shaft and attached feathers that he had carefully selected. The traveler watched from a distance. As dusk began to fall, he finally stood and approached the hunter. The hunter took one look at him and chuckled.
Laugh away, sir. You know my skill level in tanning and sewing is a big fat zero,
the traveler said. I managed to put together a shirt, but pants are plain impossible.
He hitched up what appeared to be a fur blanket that had been wrapped around him like a skirt.
You can learn.
Of course I can,
the traveler said, sounding annoyed. An old lady in the next village offered to teach me in exchange for twenty rabbits. But I’m a busy man! This stupid game is so outdated… Who has time to go chasing bunnies?
He gazed up at the sun. It looked as though someone had hand-painted it directly onto the sky with a brush dipped in gold paint. If pressed to do so, one might describe this universe by saying it consisted of a wide, flat disk surrounded by a rotating wall onto which balls in the shape of the sun, moon, and stars had been nailed.
I spent some time looking into your file,
the traveler said. An hour in the real world is equal to a day here, which makes you at least fifteen hundred years old in this world. You’ve had too many past lives to count, and you’ve held every job possible. You’re a hunter now, but you’ve been a wizard, a poet, a monk, and a warrior who earned himself a knighthood, but also a thief, a clown, and a fraud. You’ve probably already defeated the evil king who threatens to bring down the kingdom. Many times over, I’ll bet. If it weren’t for DNA confirmation—and the fact that this game doesn’t allow for one player to control two avatars—we would never have believed that you did all of that on your own. Of course, it’s possible that you wrote a bot… Back then, amateur programmers used to make convincing first-person hunter games and share them online. Naturally, they were illegal, but some of them were far better than the professionally made games.
The hunter blew the dust off of his new arrowhead, held it up to the sunlight to inspect it, and tossed it into a wooden box before selecting another stone to grind. As soon as it entered the box, the arrowhead blurred and merged into the background.
The gods are deeply impressed with your performance. They have decided to bestow upon you the honor of sitting at their right hand and helping them rule the world… as their business partner. You will be directly involved in world creation, and you will be free to do as you wish with that world. Imagine: you could have ferocious monsters roam the fields, or make food rain down from the sky. You could give people abilities or take them away. Why, you’ll even have the power to giveth and taketh life itself! Of course, you’ll have to be mindful of maintaining some kind of equilibrium in the world, but the gods have absolute faith in your sense of proportion. I guarantee you, it will be far more interesting than sitting here slaving over some arrowheads.
The hunter’s eyes widened. He let out a chuckle, which built into an uncontrolled fit of laughter.
Was it the ‘giveth’ and the ‘taketh’?
It’s hard to take anything you say seriously when you’re dressed like that.
I guess I’ll have to find a way to add another clothing graphic,
the traveler said, twisting this way and that to study his outfit. Why are you so obsessed with this world anyway? When you could live anywhere you wanted.
The hunter paused in his work to meet the traveler’s gaze. Hovering behind the hunter’s young face was the shadow of a feeble old man. He looked like someone who had once been king but was now just an aged beast clinging to what was left of his power.
The only one who knows where I should live is me,
he said.
Just then, someone stepped out of the house. Glancing over, the traveler couldn’t help but do a double take.
Whoever created her could not possibly have been the same person who’d created the world she inhabited. It was as if a master painter had flicked his brush against a child’s painting. She glowed. Dark eyebrows arched over wide, lovely eyes. The onyx pearls of her irises glowed from behind long lashes. Waves of hair as black as the ocean at midnight cascaded down to her heels, hugging her curves. She wore a dress cut from the same buckskin as the hunter’s outfit and jewelry crafted from animal bones, all of which only served to accentuate her primitive beauty.
The woman handed the hunter a water jug and leaned over to kiss him long and hard on the mouth. The traveler’s brows quivered in stunned disbelief. She stood back up and looked at him. A smile spread across her face.
Hello,
she said.
Hello,
the traveler managed to blurt out, still reeling.
You’re a person, aren’t you?
What? Am I a person…?
Yes. You’re a person, aren’t you?
Yes, of course, but…
It’s been forever since I last saw a real person.
The traveler’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Everyone has left,
she said. They said the end was near. The other side of Morning Hill is nearly wiped out. Chaos swallowed it whole… How long do you plan to stay here, sir?
Who the hell are you?
The traveler’s voice had turned ice-cold.
The hunter looked up, and the woman blinked her wide eyes.
How did you get in here? Do you know they’ve increased the penalty for hacking? You’ll be hit with a fine so big that you’ll never pay it off. How long have you been logged in?
She looked down at the hunter in complete bewilderment. He stood and wrapped an arm around her.
He’s a visitor from another realm. A messenger sent by the creators of our world. So be patient with him, even if he starts jabbering nonsense.
Really?
That’s what he claims.
Their lips locked again. The traveler opened his mouth to protest but no sound came out. His hands gesticulated wildly, as if continuing the argument. Only after a few long beats had passed was he was able to speak again, the urge to curse at them only barely suppressed.
This has got to be a joke. Hey, Miss. Miss, Ma’am, Sir, whatever you are. You have to pay to use this world. There’s no free log-in. Understand? Now that I’ve seen you, you’re busted. So register at once and pay the user fee, including all the back fees for the time you’ve already spent here. Otherwise, log out this very instant. Do you hear me? Get the hell out!
The woman was speechless. The traveler was about to launch into another verbal attack, but before he could do so, she stood up straight and tall. Her voice was soft but emphatic.
"You self-proclaimed messenger of our creators, my existence does not require anyone else’s approval, least of all yours. So please go back to your keepers and tell them that. You people may believe this world belongs to you, but it doesn’t. This world is ours. Even if the fate of this world hinges entirely upon the whims of your kind, we will never be made to act against our own free will. Death and destruction may eventually drive me from this world, but I will never choose to leave."
3
condition 1040 // if repeat.input __pattern #4
input__hi.
output__are you testing me?
Spotting a puny figure under a tree, the hunter, who was on horseback, laughed so hard he nearly fell out of the saddle.
All right already, so it backfired,
the traveler said. The pair of oversized wings that protruded from his back sagged in defeat along with his shoulders. This is how I should’ve introduced myself to you. I didn’t really think it would work at this point, but I had to give it a shot.
A bright yellow halo dangled just above his head. He was wearing what appeared to be a white nightgown, and his tangled hair was now neatly combed and held in place with a flower barrette. In a distinctly avian manner, he lifted a wing, gave it a few flaps, and rubbed his face in it to preen.
This is the admin attire nowadays. And it has performed very well, just so you know.
His explanation seemed to have had no effect on the hunter, who howled with laughter for a few more minutes. Once his hilarity had subsided, the hunter studied the angel’s face with renewed curiosity. Free of dirt and grime and poking out from under the halo, the traveler’s face (or rather, the angel’s face) might even be described as handsome. It was the kind of face that could pass for either gender depending on where you stood.
I didn’t know you were a girl,
the hunter said.
I’m intersex. Some clients prefer women, some prefer men. I guess you could say this is a handy way to satisfy both.
So what are you really?
The angel paused in the middle of gathering up his hem from where it trailed on the ground. The expression on his face clearly communicated, How the hell am I supposed to walk in this? The angel studied the hunter’s face.
What an interesting question. Can I take that as admission of the fact that this world is just a shadow of the real world?
I already told you that I don’t place much faith in the appearance of anyone or anything. And you know that, behind this, I’m an old man nearing death.
Your world view is tough to figure out,
the angel said, sticking out his tongue at the hunter. So, if I share my story, will you tell me yours?
…
Figures. Of course you won’t. Not by a long shot. We’ve been searching everywhere for your personal information, but have been able to turn up exactly nothing. The original company made a complete mess of their data management, and we also can’t seem to find anyone who was ever in charge of it. On top of which, IP tracking was disabled. Anyway, I’ll keep my secrets, too. Admin identity is supposed to be kept strictly confidential. Too many nut jobs out there, you know.
Just then, an old man in a pointy hat walked up to the two of them. He was carrying a rucksack on his back with a child inside who was clutching a single lotus blossom. The old man stopped at the top of the hill to catch his breath.
Ahoy there, brave ones, at last we meet. May the Lord bless you and protect you always. Word of your reputation has brought me all the way here. Please help me. I’ve been traveling the width and the breadth of this land in search of a cure for my sick child.
Ignoring the old man, the hunter turned back to the angel.
You’re relentless, aren’t you?
"Just doing my job. You’re the one who’s relentless. And now I’ve got not just one but two people to deal with? They better pay me extra for this. Well, if there really are two of you."
The angel squatted under the tree and traced a circle in the air before him. A sheet of paper fluttered down out of the circle. Several more followed, which he gathered and arranged into a neat stack before beginning to read them. Sensing the hunter’s gaze, which was boring into him, the angel shook his finger.
I managed to find the admin ID in storage. I now have access to full admin privileges, including skin files—as you might have already noticed. I’m getting magic points transferred to me as well, though progress has been slow. It takes forever to locate anything using such an old-fashioned method…
"What do you mean, ‘if there really are two of you’?"
The angel glanced up at him.
There’s no log-in record. It’s possible that she hacked into the system using some method we don’t know about, but our analysts are skeptical. C has been obsolete for decades. Hardly any of those programmers are left. In fact, there probably aren’t many servers left that can even run this game.
What are you suggesting?
She’s not human, is she?
The hunter dismounted and hung the reins on a branch. The trunk itself was much too thick for tethering the horse. It was big enough to span the width of a small yard. The base of the old tree was long dead, and insects and birds had drilled holes in its moss-covered bark to form their own colonies. Seeds that dropped from above germinated in the plush moss and grew as one with the dead wood. The treetop was barely visible through the leaves and branches, and flowers fluttered to the ground with each breeze like confetti.
Sitting cross-legged before the angel, the hunter asked, Then what is she?
The angel looked up from behind his sheaf of papers and gazed at the hunter’s face a while.
NPC. A non-player character, like our old friend over here.
…The magic herb is inside a cave guarded by a terrible dragon, but none have been brave enough to set foot there…
The old man was still rattling off his lines like a voiceover narrator.
According to our records, the game’s VIP users were provided with an NPC spawning tool capable of natural language processing and voice recognition. Using this tool, players were able to code NPCs capable of interacting with other entities based on real time input data. It was a deceptively modest tool with endless capacity. Some consider these NPCs to be primitive AI, but I think it’s a stretch to compare what they do to ‘intelligence.’ All they do is spout pre-programmed responses based on pre-programmed conditions. For anything off-script, they can only clam up or pretend you’ve lost them.
You’ve lost me.
The angel gave the hunter a quick eye roll.
Fine. Allow me to flesh it out in your terms, then. She’s a homunculus. You’ve been an alchemist in the past, correct? My guess is that she’s your creation.
A moment’s conversation should be enough for you to tell if that’s the case or not.
Well, it confused me at first because I assumed she was a human player. On top of which, she threw me that trick question. NPCs—I mean, homunculi—don’t usually ask people if they’re people.
…I’d gladly throw myself into the arms of death to save this child, but my death would be meaningless if it doesn’t save him. Please, have pity on us, and accept this family heirloom in exchange for—
the old man continued.
Shut up,