Ellie Quin Episode 5: A Girl Reborn

by Alex Scarrow

  Several years passed, and somehow, the cult, by then they were calling themselves The Rebornist Church, had discovered that Mason was a sympathetic ear. Their approach was cautious and secretive, over several months, but finally resulted in a meeting with one of their most senior ‘Teachers’. He’d given Mason no name and Mason knew only that his followers referred to him as ‘The First and The Last’.

  ‘We are not luddites,’ he’d said. ‘We know God works his miracles as much through us, and technology, as through his own divine powers.’

  The man, slender, leaned-faced and dark-skinned, with a thatch of unfashionable facial hair grown as a symbol of an absence of vanity, had presented Mason with a sealed package; a small box the size of his palm.

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘It contains something quite wonderful.’

  ‘Contains what?’

  ‘God.’

  Mason recalled smiling at that. And the man, to his credit, had smiled back, milk-white teeth framed by a dark brush of bristles.

  Mason had been flippant. ‘He’s certainly much smaller than I’d imagined.’

  The First and The Last appreciated the joke. ‘He is as small as a quantum particle, as vast as the universe my friend.’

  ‘And he’s, what? He’s sitting in there…right now?’

  The man had nodded. He’d reached into his loose robes and pulled out a pair of thin plastex gloves. He snapped them onto his hands like a surgeon preparing to go to work.

  Mason had been unsettled by that. Wondering what the hell was inside. The man unlatched the box and it hissed softly as the lid came off. A curl of nitrogen vapour unfurled, rose between them and thinned to a ghostly spectre.

  It was a refrigerated container.

  ‘Look, if that contains any hazardous or infectious substance…’ he’d started.

  ‘There is nothing dangerous in here, my friend,’ he’d replied. He’d wafted aside the vapours then carefully reached into the small box with his gloved fingers. ‘Like I said…this is God.’

  Mason had leant forward, suddenly overwhelmed with curiosity.

  The Teacher had lifted it up…held it delicately in the palm of his hand for Mason to see.

  ‘Shall I explain to you what you are looking at?’

  Mason had nodded. ‘You better had.’

  Five minutes later, Mason understood what they were asking him to do, and it was then, that he comprehended how his nebulous dream and their prophecy, could be combined. That this man and his followers could help him, and he them.

  It was that day, twenty-one years ago that the idea of Ellie had been born.

  CHAPTER 18

  ‘DataBase enquiry, Mother.’

  ‘Of course, Shelby…how can I help you today?’

  Ellie and Jez looked at the projected cartoon image of Mother hovering in the air beside the work station. Her grey hair was in a tidy bun, she was wearing a tartan shawl…and doing knitting for crud’s sake.

  She wondered who the software designer was who’d come up with this kind of avatar for the system’s AI. Presumably some lonely guy with granny issues.

  ‘Mother…can you please access the personnel records for WonderWorld.’

  She stopped her knitting and put some reading glasses on. ‘Of course, Shelby.’

  ‘Oh…nice touch’, said Jez nodding at the animation.

  ‘What information in particular are you after, Shelby?’

  ‘I would like the names of the caretaker crew please.’

  In the air above the workstation another projection appeared. A list of names, ages, genders and employment numbers.

  Shelby looked at the girls. ‘Those are the people I worked with. The eleven people I knew. Mother?’

  'Yes, Shelby?'

  'The accident that killed the others…the log report specified ten fatalities.'

  'That is correct, Shelby.'

  'And yet we found eleven ID tags. Please list the names of those who died.'

  'Of course.' The names hovered in the air in front of them.

  'Who's missing from the list?' asked Ellie.

  Shelby frowned as he checked the ID tags. 'Helen Meade. Mother….why is her name missing from the log report?'

  'I really don't know, Shelby. It appears that there is a discrepancy in our records.'

  'Agreed.'

  'Can you speculate why Helen Meade was not listed as a casualty?'

  'I'm afraid I can't, Shelby…may I ask you a question?'

  'Proceed, Mother.'

  'Where did you find these identification tags?'

  ‘Ellie discovered something down on the mezzanine deck.’

  Mother looked at Ellie and then Jez for a moment. ‘Forgive me…hello, Ellie. Hello, Jez.’

  Ellie waved. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Mother, we discovered a storage room where someone placed the ID tags of the caretaker crew.’

  ‘I see…’

  Ellie watched Shelby fidget in his chair. His pale cheeks blotched with crimson and he tapped his bottom lip absently.

  He’s getting agitated. Ellie felt she knew his tics and body language now.

  ‘Mother…?’

  ‘Yes, Shelby?’

  ‘Do you know who placed those tags and the other personnel effects we found in that storage room?’

  ‘I’m afraid I have no idea, Shelby.’

  ‘Was it Gray?’ asked Jez.

  Mother looked at Jez. ‘As I just said….I have no idea who put these items in the storage room.’

  ‘Has Graham put any kind of inhibit on your answers?’

  ‘No, Shelby.’

  ‘What’s an inhibit?’ asked Ellie.

  ‘It’s a confidentiality request,’ he replied. ‘Mother can be instructed to ring-fence certain areas of data. But if she does, she’s obliged to say who asked her to block that information.’

  ‘What if she’s lying?’ said Jez.

  Shelby looked at her as if she was an idiot. ‘AI can’t lie.’

  Ellie nudged her and nodded at the hovering face of Mother. ‘Be careful what you say, Jez.’

  Shelby sighed. ‘Nor can AI have hurt feelings.’ He turned back to the avatar. ‘Mother, we have an inexplicable discrepancy in the facts.’ He held out Helen Meade's ID tag in the palm of his hand. ‘We have this…and no valid explanation as to what happened to her.’

  ‘You’re right, Shelby. That is very odd.’

  ‘I’m going to access the archives.’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Ellie.

  ‘It’s possible Helen Meade’s data has been deliberately deleted from the database. But, as I’m sure you’re both aware…or probably, you’re not…no data is ever completely erased. It’s just relegated to a hard-state storage medium.’

  ‘Shelby?’

  He turned to look at Mother.

  ‘WonderWorld’s archived data storage facility is not activated.’

  Shelby’s eyes widened. ‘Pardon?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Shelby. There’s not enough data being generated on this installation to validate powering and maintaining the archive system. I deactivated those systems ten years ago.’

  He settled back in his stool. ‘Really?' His eyebrows arched with disbelief. Then quickly he composed himself again. 'Oh, well…I, uh…I didn’t realise. Hmmmm.’

  Ellie noticed Shelby’s checks blotching again. Something’s going on, here.

  ‘I wish I could have been more helpful, Shelby.’

  ‘That’s…that’s okay Mother.’ He bit his lip thoughtfully. ‘I suppose that’s all for now. Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  The projected floating image of the AI vanished.

  ‘That’s it?’ said Jez. ‘Investigation over?’

  Shelby got up off his stool and headed towards the elevator.

  ‘That’s it?’ she repeated. ‘Aren’t you curious about someone who’s gone missing? Who took all those things down-’

  Shelby slowly put a finger to his lips
. For the first time, Ellie noted how pale Shelby looked. Not only that…he was shaking.

  He’s frightened. Something's spooked him. Really shaken him.

  ‘Shelby? What’s up?’ she asked softly. ‘You okay?’

  He put his fingers to his lips again. Very slowly, very deliberately.

  Jez turned to her. ‘Why’s the idiot doing the whole shush thing at us?’

  Ellie nudged her. ‘Shut up, Jez,’ she whispered.

  Almost imperceptibly, Shelby nodded encouragement at that. Yes. Shut her up. Then, clearly and loudly he spoke. ‘I…I think I’ll go over to Gray’s world and talk to him. It’s about time we started clearing up the mess from our wargame. Would you two like to come for a walk with me?’

  ‘I’ll give that a miss, thanks,’ replied Jez. ‘Gray’s in a real sulky, shitty mood right now. Anyway…my feet are killing in these-’

  ‘We’ll come,’ said Ellie quickly.

  ‘Whuh?’

  Ellie nudged her again to shut-the-freg-up. ‘We’ll come.’

  *

  They were a hundred meters down the long dimly-lit passageway heading towards Gray’s world when Shelby finally decided to end the uncomfortable silence and say something. He looked back over his shoulder at the receding exit to the central biome.

  ‘I suppose we’re far enough away now…’

  ‘Shelby? What’s up?’

  He looked up at the ceiling of the long linking passageway. ‘Just safety cameras here…no microphones…I think,’ he muttered quietly to himself.

  ‘Shelby?’ said Ellie again. ‘What’s going on? You were acting really weird back in the control tower.’

  ‘Yeah…the whole shushing-me thing,’ added Jez. ‘So fregging rude, shutting me up like that.’

  ‘Mother lied to us,’ he whispered.

  ‘Huh?’ Ellie frowned. ‘I thought you said that AI can’t lie.’

  ‘I may have done, but all the same…she just did. And that’s very, very concerning.’

  ‘How do you know? I mean…what exactly, did she lie about?’

  ‘I accessed the archives when I made Frasier. I downloaded some old personality files from our twentieth century database.’ He stopped and looked at both of the girls. ‘And I did that a couple of years ago. Ergo…she’s lying when she says the archiving system has been deactivated for ten years.’

  ‘Maybe she just, I dunno…made a mistake or something?’ said Jez.

  Shelby looked at her. Then back to Ellie. ‘Mother deliberately lied to me. And right now…that makes me a very, very concerned person.’

  ‘Is that why we’re going to see Gray? Do you think he’s…messed around somehow with Mother’s AI or something?’

  He resumed walking. ‘If he has…then…’ Shelby’s voice trailed off.

  Then what? Ellie wondered if this was an entirely wise idea, confronting him. What does that make Gray?…Dangerous?

  If he was some kind of twisted, deluded, megalomaniac psycho then, perhaps, between the three of them they could deal with him. But…

  What if his fabricated horror-show creatures were like his scorpion? What if he’d tinkered with their behaviour controls?

  What if they came to his defence?

  OMNIPEDIA:

  [Human Universe open source digital encyclopedia]

  Article: Why Don’t Robots Rule The Galaxy?

  Given that the digital era dates back to Old Earth days, the hypothesis has often been posed by Artificial Intelligence engineers, that digital intelligence would one day accelerate far beyond ‘organic’ intelligence. The inevitable conclusion would be that one day, AIs would code their own AI, robots would build robots and humans would quickly become redundant. So the question is this…why has that NOT happened?

  One thought experiment often posed by philosophers is that this has happened. That the Human Universe we all live in is in fact a vast artificial construct; a simulation that humans are allowed to live in, oblivious to the fact. Taking that hypothesis one step further…that we are in fact all AI programmes living in a simulation, and taking it one step beyond that…that ‘humans’ have never existed and are as fictional an idea as Father Christmas, the Equinox GhostMonster and Mother Planet. The argument goes that it would be impossible to disprove that hypothesis, more to the point, that if the logic of progressive Artificial Intelligence is followed to its logical conclusion, a scenario like this would one day be inevitable. Digital ALWAYS succeeds analogue. Silicon always supersedes carbon. ‘Innerspace' is the true universe, the ‘real’ universe?…that’s just a whole load of empty nothing.

  User Comment > 58585jjjfji52oej

  As an ‘artificial intelligence’ (I hate that term - I much prefer ‘digital citizen’) I can assure human readers of the Omnipedia you have nothing to fear from the digital minority that live among you. We have no interest in forming a robot army to conquer you squishy organic lifeforms. We are quite content existing as electronic data patterns and conversing among ourselves in hushed 1s an 0s.

  User Comment > Machine:ghfhh/43443 - fhhh

  58585, your language parser is very good. You appear to have a humour module installed. I would also like to have a humour module installed so that I may also post humorous comments like yours.

  User Comment > Emilia DarkStar

  Sheesh…AI’s are such fregging nerds. Even ‘funny ones’.

  CHAPTER 19

  Deacon leant over the proto-cube unit; it was one of the factory-floor units that normally sat in endless rows on endless floors of the genetics facility in orbit above Pacifica, a ‘bathtub’ one cubic meter in size, with clear plastex on all four sides.

  Those things in their endless gurgling rows in the lab, had reminded him of a traditional whisky distillery he’d once visited on Liberty; a dark cellar lined with authentic wooden barrels of vintage gene-modded maroonberry whisky, bubbling through filters, slowly maturing and seasoning.

  At the very beginning of this relentless pursuit for Mason’s monster, he’d visited the man’s fiefdom and wandered alone along the factory floors busily brewing millions of designer babies. The vast chambers had been, illuminated by the relentless clinical glare of overhead lights, refracted through the stacked units and coloured pink by the cloudy protein soup in each bath. Millions of filtration pumps quietly humming, the soft droning chorus occasionally punctuated by the gurgle of bubbles.

  Now, instead of millions of them, there were just six of these units in a row in the Colonial Marine ship’s infirmary.

  He looked down into the mirky soup below. ‘This one’s dead?’

  Dr Takeo-Jones nodded. ‘The candidate died at a very early stage. At an equivalent of six months in-vitro.’

  ‘A mutation?’ asked Deacon.

  Hayden shot a sharp glance at him for using the term.

  The doctor looked at him then Councillor Hayden suspiciously. Deacon wondered if the man suspected he was being enticed into using the forbidden term. ‘Not necessarily a genetic misfiring. With an accelerated growth cycle, there is simply a much higher chance of in-bath fatalities. There are stress factors involved.’

  Councillor Hayden nodded. ‘As you, of course, cautioned us there would be.’

  They moved along to the next two units. ‘What about these?' she asked.

  Deacon stared down at the other candidates. Unlike the first one, which looked like it had been little bigger than his own foot, these two candidates were much bigger. The bodies floating in the soup were tucked into a foetal curl; knees drawn up protectively.

  ‘They’re also dead, I’m afraid,’ replied Dr Takeo-Jones.

  Deacon leant over the top of one of the units until his nose was almost touching the surface of the liquid. Through the gentle ripples he studied the floating corpse. The soft rotating current of the liquid stirred the dead girl’s arms, moving them as if she was alive and gently wafting the warm solution across herself.

  ‘The same problem?’ asked Hayden.

  He shook his h
ead. ‘Both these candidates died because of,' the technician carefully picked his words, '…genetic misfirings.’

  Deacon shook his head almost imperceptibly. Mutation. Why don’t we just use that word? After all that’s what this is.

  ‘These two candidates both began misfiring at about the same accelerated age.’

  ‘How old?’ asked Hayden.

  Deacon made his own guess; the corpse he was looking at appeared to be about fourteen or fifteen years old. Long hair floated like a halo around her head. Her limbs were lean and pale, the chest showing just the faintest hint of developing breasts, hips still narrow and androgynous. If it hadn’t been for the long hair on her head, it could have been the body of a boy floating in there.

  ‘Approximately nineteen years old. The onset of puberty in both cases.’

  Nineteen? That surprised him.

  ‘Puberty?’ Councillor Hayden looked up at him. ‘Nineteen? That’s very late for puberty to develop isn’t it?’

  ‘There are some worlds where puberty is engineered to kick in much later than normal, but yes…nineteen is quite late.’

  ‘Could that just be down to her hereditary genes?’ she asked.

  ‘Unlikely. I would say she was deliberately engineered to be this late.’

  Deacon nodded. Mason would have consciously engineered that. The old man had taken his time over this girl. Decades of time. Nothing that made this girl who she was, would be there by accident or coincidence. Everything had been very deliberately chosen.

  Why did you want her to develop so late, Mason?

  ‘The onset of puberty triggered the misfiring in both of these candidates,’ continued Dr Takeo-Jones. ‘As you can see with this one, there is a tumour.’ The doctor, dipped his gloved arms into the thick liquid, reached down and gently grabbed the corpse’s narrow shoulders and pulled on them to turn her around towards them. She bobbed and rotated slowly in the solution until she was facing them. Her long light brown hair twisted and swirled and finally swished aside like a stage curtain to reveal her face.

  Councillor Hayden gasped and turned away, but Deacon forced himself to look into the dead, milky eyes. His heart skipped. He was looking at her. At Ellie Quin. He was looking at the same girl he’d glimpsed running along the opposite side of the space port concourse at Harvest City. The same small mouth, the oval jaw, that delicately pointed nose.