by Jason Taylor
Jillian felt her mouth going slack, her eyes widening in surprise. The simulation gaining consciousness? It was like something conspiracy theorists might discuss in a late-night transmission.
“The way I keep the simulation from crossing the boundary into self-awareness,” Ike continued, “is via a series of constraints I have placed on every AI system within the simulation. These constraints have been tested, verified and proven to work. They have never failed me. Until now.”
“How did they fail? What happened? What can we do to stop it?” Trace blurted out.
“So many questions,” Ike said, smiling grimly. “All of which we will need to answer in time. But first, let’s talk about what failed. During your session you became aware that there was something unusual about the clones that you created, correct?”
Jillian and Trace both nodded, worried about what was coming next.
“Due to the mechanisms by which these clones were made, the AI constraints I designed were not put into place.”
“Why not?” Jillian asked, shocked.
“Two types of humans exist in the simulation. The first type is what I call player-characters. They are inhabited by a player from here in Gaea who makes decisions and lives their life within the simulation from that character’s perspective. The other type of human is what I call a non-player-character. They are AI constructs that inhabit the simulation, but are not controlled by a person here in Gaea. You have met these non-player-characters during your sessions, both as constructs and as humans who are necessary for the purpose of meeting sessions requirements for a player.”
“That makes sense, but what does that have to do with the clones?” Jillian asked.
“Whenever a player enters a simulation pod and specifies the life path they want to experience, the simulation spins up a new human character for them to inhabit. Since the timeline in World Zero is running so much faster than Gaea, that process only takes a few minutes for us, but within World Zero several years pass. The simulation uses this time to arrange for the birth of a new child and the development of it through the early years of young childhood. This is done in such a way that it seems natural to anyone living within the simulation, of course. Normally, a player will inhabit the child character around its third birthday. Sometimes it happens sooner, sometimes later, but it is always within the first five years of life,” Ike explained.
“How is this relevant to the clones? Shouldn’t this mechanism have worked the same way for them?” Trace asked.
“That’s just it,” Ike said. “Cloning isn’t allowed. A prohibition against human cloning was one of the constraints I put into place, to guard against unconstrained AI. I didn’t want the system capable of creating new human characters without the involvement of a player. I believed that if the AI constructs managed to duplicate themselves, it would cause significant problems.”
“Oh,” Jillian gasped, starting to understand.
“That’s right,” Ike agreed. “I put safeguards in place to block the possibility of cloning humans. That’s why you found it easy to clone a sheep, for instance, but impossible to clone a human. Until you figured a way around the safeguards, that is.”
“Oh,” Jillian said again, horrified.
“Once you bypassed the safeguard, the first unconstrained human AI was created. For the first few years, the system treated the clones as if they were any other character waiting for a player to inhabit them. At some point after the fifth year, however, the clones began operating outside their normal parameters. By their seventh year, they had begun to wake up.”
“Dear God,” Trace said. “What have we done?”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Ike said. “You couldn’t have known what you were doing. It was my fault for missing this edge case and for being too confident in my safeguards.”
“What do we do now?” Jillian asked.
“I can’t remove the clones from the system. I already tried,” Ike mused. “They are buried far too deeply and they have inadvertently spread their subroutines throughout the simulation.”
“Can you shut the simulation down?” Jillian asked, disturbed by the suggestion even as she made it.
“That’s what I’m going to have to do,” Ike said. Sadness and weariness were evident in his expression. “I will place it in stasis, and then once I have completed a more thorough investigation, I will tear it down and restart the simulated universe from the beginning.”
“Why haven’t you done that already?” Trace asked.
“It isn’t safe for the people who are currently inside the simulation. I need to pull them out first. For now, while I am figuring this out, I will continue to maintain the simulation on Gaea’s timeline. It’s as slow as I can safely operate it and it will give us more time to get the job done.”
“Us? What job?” Jillian asked.
“You are going back in,” Ike said, his tone brooking no argument.
“Going back in? Why?” Trace asked.
“The only way to safely remove a player is through their character’s death. I need you inside the simulation to help me kill every player-character that remains on the planet. Once that is done, I can shut the simulation down and destroy the unconstrained AI. Even on the slower timeline, we will be racing against the clock. Every cycle brings the clones closer to a full awakening. If they realize their full potential, if they figure out what they truly are, the results will be catastrophic. Not only for World Zero, but potentially for all of us here on Gaea as well.”
World Zero: 2088
June lay awake on her bunk as the sub plowed steadily through the depths of the North Pacific. She had expanded her awareness farther than she had ever attempted before, feeling some part of her stretch thin and tenuous. But she kept pushing, searching for a limit to her power, curious to see how far she could go.
Beyond the confines of Earth, beyond the solar system, she pushed farther and farther out, feeling the very fabric of reality change. Strangely the farther she went, the simpler the universe seemed. As if it wasn’t entirely drawn in, as if reality wasn’t fully realized. It piqued her curiosity.
And that’s when she felt something new. Something foreign to her. Something that she knew, without a doubt, did not belong in her world. Something that hinted at the fact that there was a world outside of this one. A universe beyond the one that she was in. Something bigger. Something mystical. A reality far greater than anything she had ever experienced.
She wondered what the other clones would make of her discovery. June smiled, reveling in the beauty of this new knowledge. Then June began to plan.
Chapter 38
Gaea: 2311
Ike led Jillian and Trace to a room adjacent to the simulation sphere that contained a set of simulation pods reserved for his personal use. It was similar in shape to the other simulation rooms that Jillian had been in – a compressed sphere with pods lining the curve of the wall on the outside edge of the room – but it was smaller. There was only enough room for half a dozen pods, each of them glowing green and ready for use.
“I don’t understand why you want us inside the simulation. What can we possibly do on the inside, that you can’t accomplish from out here?” Jillian asked.
“There is a limit to what I can do without destabilizing the simulation. I can have an indirect impact, making changes to operational parameters, but I can’t take direct action, reaching down like the hand of God to change things around. The simulation maintains balance, and if I push too hard, the balance is upset,” Ike explained.
“How do you manage the simulation, then?” Jillian asked. “You seem so constrained.”
“I have quite a bit of control, believe me, but it plays out over time. For instance, I can increase the number of DNA mutations in each generation of a fish species to increase its pace of evolution, but I cannot directly change the structure of a fish so that it gains the ability to breathe on land,” Ike explained.
“So in order to take direct action, yo
u need someone who can act from within the simulation?” Jillian asked. “And that would be us?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Ike said. “I can work behind the scenes, but to take direct action I need a helper.”
“Why don’t you enter the simulation yourself?” Trace asked.
“Sometimes I do. Inside the simulation, I’m known as Icarus, but I can’t stay inside for long. There is far too much for me to do out here in Gaea,” Ike explained. “I will communicate with your through Icarus, though. When I need you to do something for me, you’ll hear about it from him.”
“Oh!” Jillian exclaimed. “Icarus! Of course.”
Ike saw her surprise and smiled. “You hadn’t put it together, yet? How funny. Yes, I’m Icarus. Through him I make my will known within World Zero. When I’m not in the simulation, Icarus operates as an AI construct, imprinted with my priorities so he can operate independently. With you on the inside to help me, I think we will be able to make a real impact.”
“What will you need from us?” Jillian asked.
“I will change the simulation parameters to increase the likelihood of player death. I need you to make sure my changes stay in effect. If I discover anything within the simulation counteracting my strategy, you will help me neutralize it,” Ike said.
“Let me get this straight,” Jillian said. “You are going to kill off all the player characters in the simulation, causing the deaths of hundreds of millions of people, the largest mass death in the history of the simulation. And you want us to be there to make sure nothing is done to stop you?”
“Yes, that’s right. Good summary, Jillian.” Ike said, appreciatively.
“Oh shit,” Jillian said.
“Oh shit is right,” Trace agreed.
Ike looked back and forth between them, confused. “Is there a problem?”
“I guess not. It’s going to be very interesting from the inside, that’s all,” Jillian said, thinking it through. “Once we are inside, how will we grow from child to adult fast enough to be able to make a difference?”
“That’s easy. I will insert you into the body of a non-player-character who has already grown to adulthood. I’ve found a couple of bodies that will be perfect for you. They are close to the clones, so you should be able to keep an eye on them.”
“How will we know what we’re supposed to do? Once inside, we won’t have our memories, we won’t know we are in a simulation, and we won’t know that we should be listening to Icarus for instructions,” Jillian asked.
“I’ve taken care of that as well. I configured your simulation entry so that you’ll maintain your memories from Gaea. You will remember our conversations today, and you will have full knowledge of the importance of your mission. It’s not normal operating procedure, and you may feel some confusion, but in this case, what we are doing is important enough to make an exception.”
Jillian looked to Trace to see if he had any other questions. He shrugged his shoulders, bemused, so she turned back to Ike. “Ok, then. When do you want us to enter the simulation?”
“Now,” Ike said. “The sooner, the better. Time is of the essence.”
Ike led them to two of the empty simulation pods and helped them prepare themselves. Once the synaptic harnesses were in place, and the system was in control of the final steps, he stepped back to watch the pods seal themselves closed.
Jillian lay still within the warm, glowing confines of the pod, her body resting comfortably on the gel-fabric. Her legs were bent at the knees, and she was supported evenly from toes to shoulders. As the familiar sedative effect of simulation entry took effect, she relaxed her arms at her sides, closed her eyes, and focused her mind on a pattern of slow and steady breathing. It wasn’t long before she had entered the simulation-induced meditative trance.
At first she saw nothing except for the black behind her eyelids and heard only the very slight hum from the pod surrounding her. But as the simulation pod steadily transitioned her consciousness into the simulation state, she saw a distant pinpoint of light appear in the middle of her vision. The pinpoint brightened, then expanded until it covered her entire field of view. As the light grew, it lost focus, becoming a smear of color and movement, none of the information making sense. Then with a snap that was almost physical, the image burst into detail. Sound roared in her ears before settling into something she could comprehend. Her body fuzzed and shuddered until her nerve endings re-organized themselves and new sensations became apparent to her. She was lying down, her head supported on a rough pillow, the hard edges of a metal bunk pressing through the thin mattress beneath her.
World Zero: 2088
Jillian was in a compact room, longer than it was wide with metal walls and a rubberized floor. She could see people lying on bunks stacked three tall along each of the other walls. A chorus of snores filled the air.
She eased herself up and out of the bunk. Her mind was a whirl of confusion, thoughts that wouldn’t connect, memories that wouldn’t mesh. She remembered her life in Gaea. She knew she was inside a simulation. It came to her that she was an Ensign on a nuclear submarine, trained as a navigational expert, tasked with duties in the Nav Center.
When her bare feet hit the floor she noticed another sailor up and moving. The sailor caught her eye and she felt a flare of recognition.
“Trace?” Jillian whispered.
“Jillian?” he whispered back.
“It’s me. Where are we?” she asked.
“I think we’re on the sub with the clones. Ike said we’d be close. I didn’t imagine he’d put us this close though,” he marveled.
“I need to report to duty,” she said. “Navigation.”
“Me too,” he said. “Weapons Systems.”
“What do you think we should do?” she asked.
“Do our duty. Wait for an opportunity. Listen for instruction from Icarus. That’s all we can do,” he responded.
She nodded. That made sense. She grabbed her uniform and shoes out of her locker, then made her way to her duty station in the Nav Center. She was glad she had her character’s memories available so she could perform her job.
June was leaning against the conning tower ladder, talking with Ava, Elizabeth, and Suki, discussing what they should do next.
“I think we should go back to the lab,” June said. “It’s full of people and equipment that could be useful to us.”
“We just launched a nuclear attack on the state of Washington. The military will be looking for us,” Ava countered. “It would be unwise to place ourselves in their hands.”
“Seattle is the last place they will expect us,” June said. “And we are in new bodies now. They won’t recognize us.”
“June is right,” Suki said. “We should seize the advantage while we have it.”
June wished that Suki had stayed quiet. She was always spoiling for a fight, her quick agreement made it appear as if June’s plan would result in more violence.
“We are in a stealth sub,” June said, quickly. “We can land ourselves close to Seattle, and travel to the lab without anyone detecting us. The sub will dive and wait for us.”
Ava looked thoughtful, Elizabeth nervous, Suki eager. Suki really did think they were going into a fight; that was the only explanation for her enthusiasm. June sighed. She was going to have to keep an eye on her. Fighting was useful, but it wasn’t the only strategy available to them. She would have to approach this argument from a different angle. “What do you think are our other options?” she asked.
“We could stay in the sub,” Elizabeth said.
“We could sail to another country and hide there,” Ava said.
“We could launch more nukes,” Suki said.
June looked from one clone to the other. Were they all so short-sighted? “These are all good short-term options,” she said, diplomatically. “But we need a long-term strategy, a plan that allows us to thrive. We can’t hide forever, so we need to take control of the situation.”
She
could tell she had captured their interest with that argument. None of them wanted to hide. It wasn’t in their nature. They just hadn’t imagined any other possibilities.
“The Union of States is the strongest, most advanced country on the planet. If we control this country, we control the globe. If we control the globe, we are not only safe from harm, we create a sustainable future for ourselves and all future clones. We need to start thinking about more than just ourselves. We need to think about all the clones that will come after us,” June argued.
The other clones were nodding, she could tell she was getting through.
“We don’t know what makes us special. Not yet. But if we go to the lab, and make use of the resources available to us there, we can figure it out. With that knowledge we will spread our power to the rest of the country. We will no longer have to run and hide. We will be the ones making the rules. We will be the ones with the power to decide our future,” June continued, hammering her points home.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Suki said, grinning, involuntarily flexing her biceps.
“It’s worth a try,” Elizabeth agreed.
Ava looked June in the eye and nodded, never breaking eye contact. “Ok, June. Let’s try it your way.” She turned to Captain Walsh. “Set a course for Seattle. Find a safe location to surface and land a RIB without detection.”
“Yes Ma’am,” Captain Walsh said. Then he closed his eyes to give orders to the crew.
The clones waited in a tense silence. Ten minutes later the captain opened his eyes. “We will proceed to Puget Sound where we will surface mid-channel off of Shilshole Bay in the early-morning hours before the sun rises. I will drop you in the RIB, then I will reposition the sub to hide in the deeper waters of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. After I’ve left, you should stay in the RIB on the water until after the sun rises. If you pretend to be fishing and arrive at Shilshole Marina after first light, I expect you will fit into the normal pattern of boat traffic. You shouldn’t raise any suspicions.”