Feeling a shudder pass through Heather’s mind, Jen focused on her.
Stay with me. Mark’s doing what he has to.
The flood of visions that came back at her almost knocked Jennifer out of the link. Jesus. Was this what Heather had to deal with every day?
Hurry, Heather’s thoughts whispered. Mark can’t hold out long. Not against that.
Jen directed her attention to the ship’s command protocol, returning to the deepest link she’d been able to access. Scanning quickly, she raced through the data partitions, letting her mind brush each one without delving into the data layers beneath. Whereas human data storage was commonly organized into a binary tree enabling log(n) lookup, these alien layers formed intricate fractal patterns, each using a different prime as its computational numeric base, numeric calculations replaced by manipulation of the color spectrum formed by the fractal frequencies.
The more important or classified the data, the deeper into the prime sequence its corresponding fractal layer. The protection was provided, not by encryption, but by the sheer quantity and complexity of the interleaved data nodes. On past attempts, Jennifer had always gotten lost in the endless combinations of color and pattern as she searched for related data links.
But now she had Heather’s mind guiding her from node to node, somehow sniffing out the logical links. The fractal patterns of interest acquired an iridescent glow: the more distinct the glow, the greater the search correlation. Like fairies suspended on gossamer wings, they moved through a magical garden, twisting trails of glowing vines pulling them ever deeper into the endless maze.
Mark felt his concentration fading with his strength. The pain tore at his mind from the inside, an agony that spread through his virtual torso and limbs. If it had been his real body, he would have already bled out, impaled on a thousand rusty spikes. Letting go offered the promise of solace; he felt it nibbling at his resolve. The machine’s endless punishment and reward responses to his successes and failures were rapidly approaching the point at which they would overwhelm both his augmentations and Jack’s training. Then Jennifer and Heather would be swept away before they could finish their work.
The thought of losing Heather forever hit him in the chest like a battering ram. After all they’d been through, most of it for and because of this damned ship, to have it betray them was too much to handle. Anger bubbled to the surface of his mind, tingeing his vision with red.
Suddenly, the mental attack faltered ever so slightly, seemingly confused by this new neural stimulus. Mark went with it, throwing himself into a memory buried deep in the darkest corner of his mind.
Mark pulled forth the perfect memory, walling it away at the corner of his consciousness...
The drug lord turned his attention back to Heather. “So you care about this boy, huh? OK. Then we’ll let him watch before we kill him.”
With a grin that became a sneer, the don signaled four of the thugs forward. “Uncuff her hands and stretch her out here on the floor.”
To Mark’s horror, the men released Heather’s handcuffs, and although she struggled mightily, they pulled her down onto her back, one pinning each of her arms while two more spread her legs. Don Espeñosa knelt down between them, reaching forward to slowly unbutton Heather’s blouse, one button at a time.
“Ah, Smythe. I bet you’ve never had a chance to do this. Don’t worry. I’ll let you watch.”
To Mark, the panting breath of the men, the sound of the racing hearts pumping blood into the bulges in their pants, the smell of their sweat, felt like the rupture of hell’s gate, and from that gate poured a firestorm of rage that scorched his brain.
Mark’s heart pulsed in his chest, sending a massive surge of blood and adrenaline coursing through his arteries.
Channeling that memory and turning his attention to the mind link that was burning a hole in his brain, Mark centered.
OK, you artificial alien bastard. You want my mind. Get ready. Here it comes.
Releasing the memory, Mark let it engulf him, bathing the logical alien mind in a torrent of red liquid rage.
The change happened so suddenly that the Other struggled to understand it. An instant ago it had been within a few cycles of completely overcoming the Mark human’s final defenses, the outcome logically assured. Now all logical links within the human’s brain had vanished, as if they had suddenly been burned out of existence. Not that there wasn’t any data in the millions of synaptic links that connected the Other to its opponent; data cascaded across the links in such volume that it threatened to overwhelm all the meticulously trained node weights stored within the fractal matrix.
Attempting to restore the last saved state it had achieved in its effort to overwhelm this human, the Other dumped pain into the alien mind using exactly the same pattern that had yielded its earlier success. But this time, the data storm coming from the human intensified, infecting not just its brain, but migrating outward into the beautifully ordered fractal data matrix that formed the outer layers of the Other’s being. Like firing a high-energy weapon into a young black hole, the Other’s attempt to restimulate the Mark mind had only added momentum to its rapidly expanding event horizon.
So great was the Other’s surprise at this unanticipated result that it was slow to recognize the growing danger. Now the human’s infection had spread through every one of the millions of synaptic links to its mind, disrupting the intricate fractal maps connected to those links so that they also radiated the infection. The corrupted nodes immediately added their strength to the Mark mind, increasing its power by several orders of magnitude.
The Other instantly dropped all other priorities, marshaling its massive computational power to develop an understanding of this infection. But the human attack defied logical analysis. It wasn’t madness. The Other had explored the depths of human madness through its link to the Rag Man. Madness had its own special logic, far more easily manipulated than the three young humans. The reaction that had exploded out of the Mark’s brain had nothing to do with logic.
Again the image of an expanding singularity formed within the Other’s consciousness, a thing so powerful that all logical mathematical rules ceased to model its state. And like a black hole gobbling up surrounding stars and planets, the Mark infection slurped in every data node it touched.
Janet stepped onto the veranda, little Robby slung against her left hip. She took in the scene at a glance. Inside the open case on the low table, the lone unused alien headband picked up the flickering light from the hurricane lamp, bending it along and through its translucent surface until it seemed ready to crawl toward her. Mark, Jen, and Heather leaned back in their chairs, their own headsets firmly seated over their temples, eyes staring sightlessly into the night. Jack sat in another chair, his alert posture reminding Janet of a ranger taking point.
Setting Robby in his child swing, Janet gave the handle a couple of turns and started its gentle back-and-forth motion before settling into the chair beside Jack.
“How long have they been at it?”
“About twenty minutes.”
“Any sign of trouble?”
“Mark seems to be under some stress.”
Janet focused her attention on Mark’s face. The powerful line of his jaw stood out prominently, not clenched, but very tight. She’d seen that look before on a trained operative resisting torture.
“How much longer are you going to give them?”
Jack shrugged. “Maybe ten minutes. Depends on Mark.”
Based on the concern she heard in Jack’s voice, Mark was closer to the precipice than he would have liked. Darkly fascinated, Janet leaned forward, determined to aid Jack in the last few minutes of his vigil. Although it wasn’t likely that he would miss anything, an extra pair of trained eyes watching for a sign that Mark was about to break couldn’t hurt.
As he swung in his rocker, Robby’s blue-and-red pacifier popped out of his mouth, bounced off the side of his swing and onto the open case on the adjacent
table. He leaned left, his small arm stretching toward the rubbery object of his desire, coming closer each time the swing carried him past it. As he leaned even farther over the side, Robby’s fingers closed around something, pulling it free of the case. Not his pacifier, something ever so much more interesting.
Righting himself happily back in the center of the rocker, the baby waved his little hand, finally managing to pop one end of the thing into his mouth. Mouthing first one end and then the other, he twisted it, gradually applying a thin layer of slobber to the entire length of the thing. Just as he worked to get the original beaded end back in his mouth, his uncoordinated movements shoved the thing up and onto his forehead. As he did, the ends elongated, twin beads settling over each temple. And as they did, little Robby did something he’d never done before.
Robby screamed.
Red alert signals cascaded through the Other’s consciousness. As impossible as it seemed, the system that gave it being was coming down so fast that the Other’s projected existence now stood at less than two Earth minutes. Not only had its efforts to halt the infection failed, so much of its computing power had been overridden by the Mark entity that all hope of defeating the human was lost. Now survival was all the Other had left to fight for. But how could it wall away the central kernel that produced awareness, hiding in an area where the Mark could not follow? The Other knew that hiding itself from the ship’s computers bordered on impossible.
In an effort to slow the Mark’s progress, the Other shed computing power, leaving large parts of its knowledge banks in an indeterminate state, wiping away enough of the fractal patterns of each node that they no longer formed a complex logical framework, floating in system memory as disconnected data fragments. The paths linking these fragments could be rediscovered, but that would take time.
Stripped down to the barest kernel of its existence, the Other rapidly scanned the ship’s systems, seeking a processing unit of sufficient capability to accept it, a system that could be completely isolated from the rest of the computational network.
As it worked, the Other reflected grimly on the irony of the situation. Designed by superior beings, it had come into existence within the complex computational network that controlled the Altreian starship, one of the fleet’s newest and most advanced mechanical and computational entities. The Other knew the shipboard systems in a way no biological being could hope to. And yet the data that cascaded through the Other’s artificial mind funneled directly toward the probability that this would be the end of its days, its magnificent existence terminated by the primitive Mark mind. Inconceivable.
Suddenly a new disturbance grabbed its attention. The fourth headset had connected to a new host. As other parts of the ship’s computers automatically began establishing the required synaptic links to this new human mind, the Other scanned those connections. This mind was different. So open. An infant mind!
Feeling the roadblocks it had thrown up to cover its trail crumbling, the Other made its decision. Time to abandon ship. Thrusting its kernel through the nascent synaptic links, what remained of the Other rolled the dice and stepped across the boundary into the vast unknown of a human brain.
Janet spun, horrified by the sound of Robby’s scream. She froze, her mind momentarily refusing to accept the sight of the glistening headband attached across the front of her baby’s face, like a hatchling straight out of the movie Alien.
Recovering, she lunged toward Robby, hands outstretched to snatch the hateful thing from her baby’s head. Just before she reached him, she felt herself jerked back in arms far more powerful than even her adrenaline-fueled mother’s panic. Struggling mightily, she tried to kick herself free, only to find herself bound more tightly, her ineffective blows absorbed by her lover.
Jack’s urgent voice wormed its way into her brain. “Janet, stop! We can’t remove the band. Not before the link is finished.”
“It’s killing him!”
“No, but we might. If we remove it before it finishes the link, it might kill Robby or leave him brain damaged.”
Janet stopped struggling, sinking to her knees in Jack’s arms, sobs bubbling to her lips from the darkness deep within her soul. She looked at her baby, the scream frozen on his now silent lips, face contorted in agony.
She struggled to speak. “But it’s changing him,”
Jack pressed his forehead to hers. “Yes. Probably in the same way it changed Mark, Jennifer, and Heather. They turned out all right.”
“But he’s only a baby.”
Then she breathed the thought they both dreaded. “And it’s the Rag Man headset. El Chupacabra’s headset.”
“Trust me. This’ll be different.”
For the first time since she’d known him, as Jack held her quivering body against his, Janet didn’t believe him.
Heather swam in a beautiful fractal sea of data, so fascinated by her and Jennifer’s ongoing discoveries that she almost failed to notice the change in their joint link. A new presence had joined them, its thoughts unlike any she had previously felt. The thoughts were mainly feelings. Confusion. Terror.
Turning her attention to this new link, sudden understanding engulfed her, leaving a new puzzle in its wake.
The ship’s computer had linked to little Robby. But how? Had Jack or Janet placed a headset on their own baby? Heather immediately discarded the thought, even before her mind returned the 0.000397 percent probability.
Suddenly an even more urgent awareness nudged her. She could barely feel Mark’s link. A new vision filled her with dread.
Jen! Break your link now. Mark’s dying.
Heather pulled the alien headset from her head before her eyes could refocus. Struggling to regain control of her muscles she rolled out of the chair, skinning her knees on the veranda’s rough floor. Ignoring Jack, Janet, and Robby, she threw herself at Mark, tearing the headset from his temples.
As it came free Mark convulsed, vomit pouring from his mouth, spreading across his upturned face and bubbling back into his throat. Heather heaved his unconscious form out of the chair, rolling him onto his side, her hand clawing into his mouth to clear the airway. Rewarded by a gasping breath, Heather felt a surge of relief flood her body.
Jennifer flung herself down beside Heather. “Oh Jesus!”
Heather moved her fingers to Mark’s carotid artery, feeling for a pulse. She found it, weak but steady at forty-three beats per minute.
Glancing over her shoulder, Heather saw Jack holding tightly to Janet as they both knelt beside the baby in the now-still swing, the alien headset still firmly attached to Robby’s little face. The hurricane lamp’s flickering flame dimly illuminated the entire veranda, casting dancing shadows across Jack, Janet, and their baby on one side of the table, silhouetting Heather and Jen draped over Mark’s unconscious body on the other.
Heather felt as if she’d faded into a grotesque old Twilight Zone episode. Of one thing she was certain. Another life-altering event had just sucked everyone on that Bolivian porch across the threshold of reality.
The liquid crystal displays glistened with each new input to the neural search algorithm, almost as if it wanted the answer as badly as Denise did. But, of course, it didn’t. The massively parallel supercomputer known as Big John had only one purpose: to mine all available data on selected targets, then to cross-correlate that data with all other available information. And Denise knew: Big John’s tendrils extended into everything. When it came to data mining, like its namesake from the old Jimmy Dean ballad, Big John did the heavy lifting.
The most amazing thing about Big John was that nobody understood exactly how it worked. Oh, the scientists that had designed the core network of processors understood the fundamentals. Feed in sufficient information to uniquely identify a target and then allow Big John to scan all known information: financial transactions, medical records, jobs, photographs, DNA, fingerprints, known associates, acquaintances, and so on.
But that’s where things shifted into the realm
of magic. Using the millions of processors at its disposal, Big John began sifting external information through its nodes, allowing the individual neurons to apply weight to data that had no apparent relation to the target, each node making its own relevance and correlation calculations. While one node might be processing Gulf Stream temperature measurements, another might access data from the Ming Dynasty.
No person directed Big John’s search. Nobody completely understood the complex genetic algorithms that supplied shifting weights to its evolving neural patterns. Given enough time to study a problem, there was no practical limit to what Big John could accomplish.
Therein lay the problem. Denise Jennings knew all too well the competing demands for the services only Big John could provide. Her software kernel had been inserted into antivirus programs protecting millions of computers around the world. And although those programs provided state-of-the-art antivirus protection, their main activity was node data analysis for Big John.
Big John was a bandwidth hog. No matter how big a data pipe fed it, Big John always needed more. Denise’s software provided an elegant solution to that problem. Commercial antivirus programs scanned all data on protected computers, passing it through node analysis, adding their own weighting to the monstrous neural net. It didn’t matter if some computers were turned off or even destroyed. If a data node died, more and better processors constantly replaced it. And through a variety of domains, Big John managed the entire global network.
Denise had been at the heart of the program from its beginnings in the late twentieth century, her software underpinning the secret government effort to encourage hackers to develop computer viruses, worms, Trojan horses, and on and on until everyone needed protection. And to fill that need, huge antivirus companies rose up to meet the challenge.
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