Ten Sigma

by A W Wang

  Swamped by the metallic taste of blood lingering on my tongue and the desire for murder and mayhem raging in my mind, I materialize into a cube-shaped room covered by large glowing white squares. Although I’m still nude, I don’t care.

  More people need to die by my hands.

  Flexing the fingers of my now healthy body and barely containing my boiling rage, I drag my hand over the slick surfaces, searching for a door.

  After I complete a circuit around the confined space, it’s apparent there’s no exit.

  My wanton desires explode.

  Uttering an incomprehensible shriek, I launch a lethal punch at the nearest square.

  It yields and absorbs the blow, air leaking from the squishy padding. When it restores its original shape, I bellow and fire more punches.

  For every impact, the pliant material reacts the same way, soaking up all the energy my fists can dish out, and then slowly re-expanding into a flat surface.

  After the last punch lands, the squares sit intact, laughing at my struggles.

  My rage spikes, and hollering a war cry, I stomp kick the nearest pad, and when that gains nothing, I swivel and run, launching my head into the opposite wall. As I drive with my legs, trying to push myself outside of the room, the square gently rises, forcing my body backward.

  Not ready to admit defeat, I push my hands in front of me, struggling to dig into the padding. My fingers find no purchase on the silky surface as the square flattens.

  Consumed with rage, I blindly send savage strikes at the immovable objects until I accidentally hit a crease between two of them. Clawing my fingertips around an edge, I find a grip and yank with all my strength.

  The covering rips from the wall with a horrible sucking sound.

  A howl of happiness escapes from my lips as I toss the hated object. It crumbles against the opposite side of the cube, and the dust evaporates before hitting the floor.

  When I turn, an identical glowing white pad has restored the wall.

  The moment of glee evaporates, and a primal scream erupts from my belly. I clench my fists and tuck my head under my arms. As my fury overwhelms me, I send useless punches at the soft barriers.

  Everything remains impervious to my best efforts.

  I must have more blood.

  In desperation, I turn, and after taking a running start, launch myself at one of the walls.

  I bounce back and land, the thick floor pad preventing me from injury. With heavy breaths and flagging strength, I rise and deliver a climactic, gigantic kick at the hated squares.

  A shock reverberates up my leg, but the effort once again yields nothing.

  My prison remains white, spotless, and uncaring for my desires.

  After releasing a bellow, I step into the middle of the space and whirl, frantically hunting for an escape. As the room spins, I process different options, allowing cold slivers of rational thought into my mind.

  Suri.

  Her admonishing countenance says, “I killed myself for this?”

  I stop the wild turning and push out a dizzy sigh. Then focusing on my friendship as the bond to my humanity, I take a deep breath.

  The black emotions of the blue liquid crest, and moments later, they fade, leaving only hollowness in my being.

  Spent from the physical effort, as well as the emotional toll, I surrender to the situation and sag against a wall, sliding down the slippery surface to the cushioned floor.

  After another deep breath, I spit, cleaning my mouth of imaginary blood and washing my thoughts of the horrors I committed while murdering the bald giant.

  A few more minutes pass before my mind clears enough for sanity to return. Then I draw my knees into my chest and wait for what comes next.

  Forty-Nine

  By the time a soft pop heralds Haiku’s arrival, I’ve reconciled my churning feelings of rage, shame, and glee into a knot of apathy.

  As the little avatar floats over me, pleasant strawberry and earthy scents fill the padded space, doing nothing to improve my disposition.

  “Get me out of here,” I say.

  “First, allow me to congratulate you,” she replies in a contrite tone.

  A flush spreads over my cheeks as I remember the insanity. “I survived, let’s not make a big deal out of it.”

  “Your victory was unexpected.”

  An odd, masculine timbre underlies her childlike voice.

  I squint at her dirty feet. But the black streaks aren’t dirt, they’re rubber. I pop off the floor and stare into her face.

  A blueness deepens her silver eyes.

  “What are you?”

  Instead of answering, she runs her gaze over her body and her hands over her face.

  “Something’s weird with your voice and your feet. And there’s a blue tint in your eyes.”

  Before she can protest, broken recollections of a vast space, huge beings, and a tiny witch enter my mind.

  “You’re one of the virtual overlords.”

  A dainty huff leaves her lips as she folds her arms.

  Furious with all the secrets, I jam my finger into her chest. “Don’t deny it. I know what I know.”

  An awkward moment passes before she raises her hand and snaps her fingers. Her simple tunic shimmers while her small form elongates. A broad-brimmed, black hat sprouts on top of her head and heavy black boots press into the padded floor. The odor of mothballs washes over me.

  Ugh.

  After the transformation finishes, I squeeze my face, pulling on my cheeks. This revelation shouldn’t be a surprise; it’s a half-truth that’s been egging at the back of my mind since I arrived in the virtual universe.

  Cloaked in black, the figure to my front is a younger version of the man in the broad-brimmed hat who extended me the Ten Sigma Program offer. Although his face lacks wrinkles, he has the same electric blue eyes and detestable mustache.

  How can I forget everyone I hold dear, yet remember him?

  And he’s been disguised as Haiku.

  I’m naked.

  “Clothing, and not that skimpy outfit. Now.”

  “Really, I’m a scientist—”

  “Real clothing. Now!”

  Again, he snaps his fingers, and a white smock drapes over my body.

  Taking a second to enjoy my modesty, I suppress the remaining vestiges of the blue liquid. I need clear, rational thought now more than ever.

  “You promised I would never see your face again.” Oddly, saying the snarky statement feels better than any of the potential questions floating in my mind.

  He responds with indignity. “I promised you would never see me again in the context of the real world. Given those conditions, I was being forthright.”

  One nagging thought charges in front of all my questions. “What… the… hell…”

  The remaining words stick in my throat as I hunch in a coughing fit. Looking up, I glare at the virtual overlord.

  His hand waves in a complicated motion.

  Something in my mind snaps, and words fly from my mouth. “What the hell is up with that bald guy?”

  He purses his lips as if there were many better things I could waste my breath asking. “The enforcer has a different form for every person. He represents fear and death.”

  “Well, that didn’t turn out too well for him, did it?”

  His mustache widens as an amused smile crosses his face. “No, it didn’t.”

  “And?”

  “The enforcer is a method to control you, in case you get back to the real world. With the training you’ve received, we need to constrain your actions only to your orders and nothing else.”

  Instead of bedtime stories, they created a virtual bogeyman to perform the same task. But now he’s dead and that’s removed at least part of their subliminal authority over me. Which explains how I finally recognized the man in the broad-brimmed hat under the Haiku disguise.

  “And the girl with the violet eyes. What weird facet of control does she represent?”


  “None of them.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “She’s a coincidence,” he offers with a shrug.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  Crossing my arms, I glance around the cell. “I have nothing better to do.”

  He sighs. “Very well, I won’t keep any secrets. Your girl with the violet eyes is an AI construct. Considering the nature of battle, you shouldn’t remember her. However, you have a niece with the same rare trait and that predisposes you to notice violet eyes.”

  I search the empty cavern of my prior-life memories. Except for my guilt from killing her, the violet color of her eyes means nothing. “Since dead means dead, why does she keep showing up in my scenarios?”

  “As you know, this program is a means to produce super-warriors. In order to account for the high casualty rate, we originally only used AI combatants. We are continually creating instances from over six thousand baseline models to feed into the Ten Sigma Program.”

  “And one of these models has violet eyes?”

  He nods.

  “So she never remembers me because every time I’ve seen her it’s a different copy?”

  “They’re not exact copies, but in essence you’re correct. As I said, she’s a coincidence, nothing more.”

  I spend a moment digesting the new facts. Considering the ten sigma odds, none of his words should be surprising. “You said originally?”

  “Yes. Despite the numbers of AIs that we produced, the final yield of ten sigma graduates was too low. A few of us conjectured the issue was computer personas lacked the survival instincts inherent to real people.

  “I developed a system to identify human beings as candidates and ensured the ones with no alternatives could join the program. It wasn’t so simple of course, creating the download technology, determining the correct parameters, recruiting volunteers, but I’ll spare you the details.

  “Of all the recruits, you were one of the two most promising.”

  “Who was the other?”

  “You caused her death.”

  I grimace. The seven sigma trying to return to her children.

  Their names are Melody and Melissa.

  “The vast majority of your opponents have been AIs. Does that make you feel any better?”

  “Have I killed real people?”

  He sheepishly says the obvious answer. “Some.”

  “Then, no it doesn’t.”

  “They were all going to die anyway and volunteered.”

  Because the last statement improves my mood, I change the subject.

  “And where does Syd fit into this?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s at least as skilled as I am, but you didn’t list him as one of your top two.”

  “As I’ve said before, your perception level is quite high.”

  I think of the creepy man and the wild variances of his personality. Clues from my rebellious investigations go through my mind—the strange places I’ve been, following Syd under the bowels of Home, the infinite space with the witch, the feeling of vastness, my body turning into mush, and most importantly, the sensations of fragmented people.

  “Syd’s not human, is he? He’s somehow part of the ‘Worse Things’ you’ve said were coming, the face-painters.”

  “A very astute observation. Yes, besides using real human beings, a second line of research is devoted to creating a human persona to excel at combat.

  “Syd is a composite construct. An amalgamation of desirable traits from different people.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  “The other faction of scientists raided prisons to find suitable subjects,” he says with reticence.

  “Suitable?”

  “Death row inmates. The worst of the worst criminals. Then they ripped apart the vileness of their beings and created new personas.”

  Copies of him were under that building. No, not copies, facets of Syd being combined into a complete being like the other terrors floating in the strange place where I followed the leprechaun. Somehow, they were one and the same as Syd. It’s evil genius; instead of relying on dumb chance to get a ten sigma, create a person, someone only devoted to the mission, a perfect predator working through everything without conscience or remorse and taking pleasure in the gory details.

  But not everything is dark. There are other parts of Syd, incongruous with death row inmates—namely his gentleman persona.

  “Syd’s always at war with himself, and he seems schizophrenic at points. Those weren’t the only traits you gave him.”

  He bashfully nods. “We added other human aspects for control.”

  “Let me guess, the gentleman part was taken from you.”

  “From a few of us.”

  When I think of Syd and his perversions, with everything enhanced by the secret of the blue liquid, I almost spit at the man’s feet. “How are those fear and death controls working?”

  A shadow crosses his face. “Certain issues have arisen.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  “Perhaps, you should be more concerned with your own future.”

  He’s right. “What now?”

  “You tried to send your team back to level zero. That is your punishment.”

  “I’m not going back to zero.”

  “You killed a teammate, and you have many powerful enemies who want nothing less than your death.”

  “Then why did you come here?”

  “I have a closeness to you, especially after this length of time. I assumed you would be the first one of my subjects to defy the odds and return to the real world.”

  My promise.

  Without any prior memories, and given the destruction of my original team, this man is literally the only friend I have left. And the only opportunity I have to not repeat the entire Ten Sigma Program.

  However, I have leverage because I’m the pinnacle of his project while Syd is my opposite amongst his rivals. “Syd will rise to a ten sigma level and go to the real world.”

  His mouth tightens.

  My hunch is correct; he needs Syd to fail. “If Syd reaches ten sigmas before I do, what happens?”

  “If he passes the ten sigma level, the achievement validates their hypothesis. The composites will go into mass production with all available resources.”

  “But that’s not the worst part, is it? You craft a means of control, but Syd won’t be stopped. You create rules, but he bends them in ways you never considered. No matter how many restraints you create, he’s clever enough to avoid them all.”

  Although he says nothing, his face tightens with worry.

  “And that’s what you fear—what will happen when Syd and others like him arrive in the real world.”

  “All that matters is the ability to reach ten sigmas. That is our definition of success.”

  “I can stop Syd.”

  “The composites are superior. You are no match for them.”

  I recall every strange opponent I’ve encountered, everyone who aroused happiness when I killed them. The ones who reminded me of Syd. The face-painters. “In the dusty brownstones, I beat eight of them at the same time.”

  “That you did. However, Syd is the crown jewel of the composite program. The one given the most resources and by far their most powerful.”

  “I beat your bald giant.”

  “And what did that cost you? Even if I were inclined to listen to this foolish notion, you would need to succumb to the dark emotions from the blue liquid. And this time, you might not be able to escape the insanity. Then we would be in a worse position because that’s something you can control even less than him.”

  It’s a fair point, but I’ve got enough anger from my last meeting with Syd and his team to make up for any blue liquid insanity.

  I raise my hand. “I swear I will beat him without resorting to anything from the blue liquid. I would rather be dead than risk losing m
y sanity again.”

  “Good intentions don’t go very far. They certainly won’t stop a creature like Syd.”

  “We have to try.”

  He shakes his head. “This is all moot. Syd is at 9.99 and in his last battle.”

  I shudder thinking of Syd and his tastes on the other side of the blue dome. Not to mention the flood of evil to come after him. “He’s not there yet.”

  “He’s better than you and everyone on his team is a composite. You can’t defeat them.”

  Although wondering from where in my lost past I’ve attained the big dream optimism, I’m sure my confidence in myself has never run higher. Nothing can stop me.

  “In this last scenario, I was on the same side as Syd. If the others wanted to validate their hypothesis, they could have pitted me directly against him. But they didn’t. They’re afraid I’ll kill him.”

  Instead of voicing opposition, he pinches his chin in thought.

  “After I broke up the team, you said there are those situations where one person can turn defeat into victory. This program is designed to produce those individuals through the harshest methods possible.”

  “That is true.”

  “What better place and time is there to show that? You need Syd defeated before he gets to the real world. You need one person to make a difference.” I tap my chest. “Me.”

  He meets my stare, eyes glimmering with hope.

  “What have you got to lose?”

  “I’ll need to expend a lot of capital…”

  “But this is a risk worth taking.”

  A moment passes before he nods. “Yes, it’s time to make a stand.”

  I smile with tight lips as he performs the leave motion and disappears.

  Alone, and with nothing further to accomplish, I lower myself to the cushioned floor and await my fate.

  Fifty

  I’m not sure how much time passes before the man in the broad-brimmed hat returns, accompanied by a thin, pale woman with long straight hair. Her formal black robe reeks of sage.

  “Hello,” she says.

  The familiar voice belongs to the witch avatar. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m part of the group that created Syd and the rest of the composites.”