Cyberdrome

by Joseph Rhea

“For your Chimera Project?” Maya asked.

  His father raised an eyebrow. “You’ve read my files,” he said, seeming to weigh the thought, then added, “What do you think of the project?”

  “I think you might be mad, Dr. Grey,” she said flatly.

  He regarded her silently for a moment. “Am I?” he asked softly, almost to himself.

  “Can you communicate with all of the worlds from here?” Alek asked, interrupting the conversation. “I thought the Watchports had to be physically connected to each simulation.”

  “That is why I had Lorena bring me a Survey Vessel,” he said. “I plan to use it to carry this Watchport to each sector, one at a time.”

  “Lorena helped us plan this whole mission just so you could get your hands on a Survey Vessel?” Maya asked.

  “What can you do?” Alek asked his father, interrupting Maya again. “I mean, if you really are the mind and consciousness of my father, living inside a digital body. What can you do?”

  “What do you mean, Alek?” Maya asked, obviously perturbed at his repeated interruptions.

  Alek motioned toward his father. “He knows what I’m talking about.”

  His father’s face remained passive for a moment, but then one eyebrow raised and he turned toward Alek. “Do you mean something like this?”

  He slowly raised one hand, open palm facing upwards, and closed his eyes. Alek was about to ask what he was doing when a blur formed in the space just above his hand. Alek blinked once, thinking it was his vision, but the blur remained. It began to waver and Alek noticed his father’s face tensing up in concentration. Gradually, the blur above his hand took shape and a large, golden chalice appeared in his hand, covered with what looked like emeralds and rubies.

  His father opened his eyes and held the cup out toward Alek. “Your quest for the Holy Grail has ended, my son,” he said in a deep baritone. “Drink deep and be given immortality.”

  Maya looked awestruck and reached out to touch the chalice. “Is it real?” she asked.

  His father smiled broadly. “I forgot that you’re a person of faith, my dear,” he said as he handed it to her.

  She accepted it and held it in her arms. “It’s really heavy,” she said with a grin on her face, then looked at Alek. His expression must’ve said something to her, because her smile disappeared and she tossed the cup over her shoulder. It landed on the Watchport floor with a loud clang and one of the emeralds broke off. “Nice parlor trick,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “How did you do it?”

  “It’s obvious,” Alek said, looking down at the broken cup. “He’s worked out a way to break the laws of physics without crashing the system.”

  “That’s not possible,” Maya said, turning to look at his father. “You can’t just screw around with system laws. The Fluidal computer will crash and you’ll kill all of us.”

  “He had access to the hardware before he came in here,” Alek ventured. “He probably inserted some sort of logic-bypass that allows him to do this.”

  “Nothing so pedestrian,” his father said. “This particular flaw was built right in to the system. Didn’t Maya tell you why they don’t allow lucid dreamers to interface with Cyberdrome?”

  “No, but someone else did,” he said, remembering his conversation with Lorena. “She said that since the Cyberdrome interface went through the dream centers of our brains, lucid dreamers had the potential to alter their own realities.”

  “Being a lucid dreamer doesn’t explain how you can create solid objects from thin air,” Maya said. “There has to be more to it.”

  “It’s because he can think in code,” Alek said, finally putting the pieces together in his mind. He looked at his father again with a newfound respect. “Everything in this reality, no matter how solid and real it looks, is ultimately just computer code. I’m guessing that any good programmer with the added ability to control his dreams would be able to do what he does.”

  “He still just can’t break the rules of the system,” Maya insisted.

  Alek looked at Maya and then his father. “He didn’t have to. The interface chambers—in here they are matter-energy converters, right? That’s how you’re able to materialize people into this reality without breaking the laws of physics.”

  “So?” Maya said.

  Alek looked back at her. “So, they don’t work in the real world, at least not for living objects. You said the Fluidal computer fills in the gaps where it can’t model reality. The converters work here because of that limitation. I think his ability to create objects out of thin air is just exploiting that flaw. He has made himself into a human matter-energy converter.”

  His father looked at him gravely. “Ceejer was correct in being concerned at your presence inside this system,” he said. “I’m nothing more than a cheap magician here, Alek. You have the potential to become a god here if you join me.”

  “Only if he was willing to cut himself off from reality,” Maya added. “That’s right, isn’t it Mathew? Alek would have to cross that border himself to do what you do. He would have to die in here and then be revived after disconnection to become what you are.”

  His father frowned. “That is the third and final step,” he said. “The holy trinity, if you will. Coder, dreamer, digital being.”

  “You mean ghost,” Alek corrected.

  His father shrugged. “A bit theatrical, but essentially accurate. Yes, you would be a ghost, Alek. Just like me.”

  “He’ll never join you,” Maya said. “Alek isn’t that stupid.” She glanced at him. “Are you?”

  Just then, Ceejer walked up to them. Alek was startled because he hadn’t even heard his footsteps approaching.

  “I’m touched by this family reunion,” Ceejer said, stopping to stand next to his father. “However, Mathew, your assistant requires your immediate presence.” When his father looked back and forth between Alek and Maya, Ceejer added, “It won’t take long, and I will keep them company until you return.”

  His father nodded, and then headed off toward Lorena on the far side of the room. When he was out of earshot, Ceejer leaned toward them and lowered his voice. “Has he told you yet?” he asked.

  “Told us what?” Maya asked.

  “Why the hostages were taken, of course,” he said. “Why he didn’t just boot everyone out of the system before sealing it up.”

  “No, he hasn’t,” Alek said.

  Ceejer looked directly at Maya. “She knows,” he said.

  Maya turned to Alek, a puzzled look on her face. “I don’t know any such thing,” she said.

  Ceejer pointed a long bony finger toward her. “Your name reminds me of the philosophical concept called the ‘Veil of Maya,’ stating that what you humans perceive as reality, is nothing more than an illusion. However, this is not an illusion, is it Maya? You have suspected it from the beginning, but were afraid to tell anyone.”

  Maya stood there, open mouth, staring at Alek. “I have to admit that I had a strange feeling that Ceejer was somehow using the hostages. It was just a crazy theory and no one would have believed it. In fact, I didn’t even believe it.” She looked back at Ceejer. “It can’t be true.”

  “Oh, but it can,” Ceejer said.

  “Someone want to tell me the big secret?” Alek demanded.

  “He’s using the hostages,” Maya said. “He’s using their brains.”

  Alek looked at Ceejer and then back to Maya. “What are you talking about?”

  “The Fluidal computer can only simulate the workings of complex systems, like the human brain, to a certain degree,” she said. “In other words, there will always be a margin of error in simulating human thought. In this limited medium, a digital life form like Ceejer can only evolve to the level of that error and no farther.”

  “So he downloaded himself into the hostages’ brains?” Alek asked. It was almost too much to take in, and a part of him didn’t want to believe it.

  Maya glanced at Ceejer before answering. “I think that
he found a way to mimic human neural activity, and he’s now running his program inside their brains, essentially bypassing all of the limitations of Cyberdrome. Ceejer’s using them as a collection of nodes in some sort of human-based neural network.”

  Alek saw that his father was returning to them. Ceejer seemed to realize this as well, and turned and headed for the door. “It is not just the others,” it said over his shoulder. “I am now inside both of you as well.”

  Alek and Maya stood there in shock as his father returned to stand near them.

  “Are you two okay?” he asked.

  “You created that thing?” Maya finally asked as she watched Ceejer walk out the door.

  His father glanced back at the door and shrugged. “Ceejer is a tool,” he said in a hushed tone. “Nothing more.”

  “Your ‘tool’ just told us that it’s operating inside our brains,” she said.

  “Ceejer is not a threat to any of you,” he replied calmly. “I simply gave it limited access to all interfaced neural processes.”

  “Interfaced neural processes?” Maya nearly yelled. “You’re talking about us.”

  “There is a bigger issue,” Alek said. “Ceejer told me earlier that the virus we thought had infected him actually started him on the path toward becoming a THI. Was that your doing as well?”

  “Yes,” said his father. “I created the program that changed Ceejer. It was disguised to look like a virus to the system in order to keep everyone off track.”

  “You’re tricking the system in another way,” Alek said, finally putting all the pieces together. “You’re making it believe a THI is on the loose so that your neuroprobes will keep everyone locked into interface.”

  “Obviously,” his father said.

  “What happens if Ceejer completes his transformation before you complete your work?” Maya asked. “Do you honestly believe he will choose to remain your so-called tool?”

  His father glanced back at the door before answering. “Ceejer will never become a THI,” he said quietly. “I agreed to transform him into the physical being he is now and to allow him very limited access to the brains of the interfaced personnel. He believes this will somehow transform him into a Trans-Human Intelligence, but he’s mistaken.”

  “No one has ever been so stupid as to allow a computer program to run inside a human brain before,” Maya said. “How do you know it won’t transform Ceejer?”

  “Because I’m not stupid,” he replied with a touch of anger. “I placed strict limits on Ceejer’s access. None of your higher brain functions are accessible to him and a sentient program would need those in order to even have a chance of evolving.”

  “What if Ceejer did have unrestricted access to a human brain—a whole brain?” Alek said, barely able to face what he was realizing.

  “In order for such an upload to take place,” his father sad, “the subject would have to be clinically dead, but still have all neural connections completely intact. I can’t imagine anyone volunteering for such a procedure.”

  Alek looked at Maya, then back to his father. “But what if it did happen?”

  His father shrugged. “Beyond here, there be dragons,” he said. When neither Alek nor Maya responded, he added, “Unknown territory, which means that anything is possible. That is why neither Ceejer, nor any other program, will ever be allowed that degree of access to a human brain.”

  Maya’s mouth dropped when she realized what Alek was getting at. “Oh, My God,” she said. “Ceejer already tried it.”

  “What do you mean?” his father asked. When neither of them answered, he added, “Why are you both looking at me so strangely?

  “You’re dead, Mathew,” Maya said bluntly.

  “Maya!” Alek yelled, but the damage was already done. His father just stood there for several seconds, looking at them both with a blank expression on his face.

  “What exactly do you mean?” he finally asked in a surprisingly calm voice.

  “You died in interface,” Maya said. She took a step closer to Alek. “We were both there.”

  His father looked at Alek for confirmation.

  “They thought you were coming out of interface,” Alek said, barely able to get the words out. “But then your heart stopped.” He looked back at Maya and saw the pain in her face as well. “I think they tried everything they could, but your brain just stopped working.”

  “But I’m still connected,” his father said, searching their faces for agreement.

  “No,” Maya said. “You were brain-dead. Dr. Benness said there was no hope of recovery. Your body was taken out of the interface room on a gurney.”

  His father suddenly erupted in anger. “Those idiots!” he screamed as he stormed across the room. “Those incompetent imbeciles! What have they done to me?”

  Maya and Alek exchanged confused glances, and then ran to catch up with him. “What did you expect them to do?” Maya asked.

  “I expected them to leave me alone,” his father said, stopping right next to a platform underneath the spinning globe and turned to face them. “I expected them to leave me connected.”

  “The third step?” Alek asked. It was beginning to make sense to him now.

  “Of course,” his father bellowed. “When I died here and was resurrected, my physical brain stopped communicating with my online Avatar. That might have appeared to be brain-death, but only to a complete fool.”

  “It was more than that,” Maya said as tears welled up in her eyes. “I was there, Mathew. You woke up. You spoke to us. Then your heart stopped and they couldn’t revive you.” She was on the verge of sobbing. “I would never have let them stop if I thought you could’ve been saved.”

  “Wait a moment,” his father said. “I spoke to you?” When Maya didn’t answer, he turned to Alek.

  “You said something,” Alek replied, fighting to remember an event he preferred to forget. “Something like, ‘At last, I’m free,’ or ‘I’m free at last.’ Something like that.”

  His father’s eyes widened and then he looked at the open door. “I’m afraid that you might’ve been correct,” he whispered. “Ceejer did try to escape. I thought I was fooling him, but all the while, he was the one fooling me.”

  Alek glanced out the door. “Ceejer used the disconnection of your Avatar to upload a copy of himself into your brain,” he said, but then added, “How is that even possible?”

  Maya answered. “Remember I told you that the Avatars were able to store memories during fast interface, and that these memories could be uploaded back into the brain during the disconnection procedure? Well, Ceejer must’ve found a way to duplicate your father’s thought patterns and replace them with his own.”

  “I helped him,” his father said flatly.

  “What?” Alek and Maya asked simultaneously.

  “Not intentionally,” his father said. “I tripled the throughput capacity of my interface chamber, so that when I was finished here, I could download all my memories and experiences here back into my physical body without any data loss. If Ceejer tapped into my data stream at the moment of separation, it’s possible that he would be able to upload enough of his code to override my brain.”

  “But it didn’t work,” Maya said. “Ceejer failed, and the attempt killed you—your body. Luckily, it also killed Ceejer’s one chance of escape.”

  His father looked at Alek. “Not necessarily.”

  Alek didn’t get it. “What do you mean?”

  Maya grabbed his shoulder. “You’re interfaced using your father’s chamber, Alek.”

  Alek looked from Maya to his father. “So, that’s what Ceejer meant when he said he could complete his transformation—now that I’m here. Ceejer is going to try to download himself into my brain, just like he tried to do with you.”

  “You’re younger,” Maya said. “Your brain and body might be able to handle the stress.”

  “That will never happen,” his father said turning to face the open door. “I’ll do everythin
g in my power to prevent Ceejer’s escape.”

  “And your son’s death,” Maya added.

  “The one thing working in our favor,” his father began, apparently not hearing Maya’s statement, “is that Ceejer no longer has any of the powers of a supervisor. He had to give those up when he became a physical being.”

  Alek shook his head and looked out the open door. “He doesn’t need to be powerful when he has an army that big,” he said. He looked back at his father. “I saw how much concentration it required for you to make that simple cup. Do you really think you can stand up to all of those machines if they come after me?”

  His father said nothing but his face confirmed that he could not.

  “So, what do we do?” Maya asked.

  “We attack first,” Alek said without hesitation. He looked at his father. “You conjure up some sort of weapon, something simple like a gun, and then we go out there and use it—right now. We kill that thing once and for all.”

  His father shook his head. “That might work if we were inside one of the Earth simulations, but not here. The Core is different. Here we are all more program than people. In other words, we would need something that would delete a program, not kill a person.”

  Well, that explains why Tracers use electromagnetic pulsars instead of lasers, he thought, and how our bodies can draw energy from the Core. To his father he said, “Then just build a deletion bomb, or better yet, some kind of deletion gun to use against Ceejer.”

  His father shook his head again. “A deletion routine is a very complex program, especially when it also has to be a three-dimensional object. I can’t just make one magically appear like I did with that chalice.”

  “You have to try,” Alek said firmly. He felt an odd sensation, as if their roles had suddenly reversed and he was now the father talking to his son. “He won’t dare hurt me—at least until he’s ready to kill me, that is. But, no matter how strong we think we are, we’re both going to surrender when Ceejer starts torturing Maya. We need to find a way to kill the son of a bitch before he even starts.”

  “I’m all for doing something to avoid more pain,” Maya said.

  “I told you, Alek. My skills here are more limited than you might think. In order to do what I do, I have to hold all of the code needed to build a program in my mind—actually see it being formed—and then believe that it’s happening. Then, when I open my eyes, if I have done everything correctly, there it is.”