The Installed Intelligence Trilogy Collection

by Phoenix Ward

  The hacktivist delivered the line with a humorous tone, and the audience reciprocated with more laughter.

  “Well tell us a bit more about that,” the host replied, steering the conversation like a blind chauffeur. “How did you accumulate the evidence used to bring down some of the country’s top lawmakers?”

  “It may surprise you, but almost all of the evidence was taken legally from public records the guilty parties released themselves,” Thompson explained. “They set themselves up for disaster, Frank. They may have honestly gotten away with it if they weren’t such incompetent morons.”

  The clip ended with the audience applauding. The scene returned to the newsroom, where the two anchors announced a commercial break.

  Once the program returned after a few mindless advertisements, there was a third person in the newsroom. She was a woman in her mid-thirties. Her glasses kept catching the gleam of stage lights whenever she moved her head, which blanked out her eyes each time.

  The subtitle below her image read out her title as the anchor on the right introduced her.

  “Welcome back,” he said. “We are joined today by Dr. Sarah Guerra, the White House’s expert in human-I.I. relations, who will enlighten us on some of the impacts the Terrace-crisis brought on society. Dr. Guerra, welcome.”

  “Thank you so much for having me,” the woman said in rapidly.

  The right anchor took the first question. “Dr. Guerra, how has the I.I. community responded to these earthshaking revelations?”

  “Well, as you’ve discussed before I came on, the I.I. community is ecstatic about the way things turned out. Many social leaders have called the outcome a ‘harbinger’ of a future filled with civil liberties.”

  “And what kind of impact does that have on their relations with bodied humans?”

  “A significantly positive one,” Dr. Guerra replied. “We’ve seen it both online and what I.I.s would consider ‘in person,’ and negative communication has dropped by over ten thousand percent.”

  “What does this mean for political groups aligned with both extremes of the issue?”

  “That’s a great question, which many of my colleague will likely debate for years to come,” Dr. Guerra said. “To be perfectly frank, we’ve seen an increase in the recruitment of both I.I. and human-centric political groups.”

  “For the layman?”

  “While human-I.I. relations are improving, more people are joining anti-I.I. or anti-human groups than ever before.”

  “Why would you say that is?” the anchor asked.

  “That’s a big question,” the sociologist said. “My personal research simply points to a natural correlation throughout history; as one school of thought gains popularity, the opposition becomes louder. It’s what precedes a turning point in most societies. As abolitionists became more common, so did Confederates. The natural human reaction to change is opposition, and that’s what we’re seeing here on both sides.”

  “Is that anything to worry about, Dr. Guerra?”

  The sociologist’s brow furrowed. “No, I wouldn’t say so at all. This is going to be a period of extremes, and it’s important to realize how small a minority it is that holds these extreme views. The best way to prevent the recruitment of extremist groups is to make them ridiculous. It is up to society how much power to give each side of the issue. I feel hopeful for the ultimate outcome.”

  “What a wonderful answer, Dr. Guerra, and thank you so much for taking the time to speak with us,” the left anchor said. The camera focused on him. “It’s the top of the hour, which means it time for us to call it a night here in the studio. Before we leave, we want to offer our most sincere condolences to the family and friends of Maynard Batiste. We all wish he had the full-brain backups needed to be revived, but he took deliberate efforts through his life to leave no such trace. And to Dr. Karl Terrace, we wish you a speedy and full recovery. Thank you all, and goodnight.”

  II

  CORRUPTED

  An installed intelligence (I.I.) is a digital backup of a human mind that can think and act of its own accord. Legally and practically, they cannot be activated until after their organic counterpart — their body — has died. At first, they were almost novelties of technology. Then, they gained equal rights when their sentience became clearer. For some, however, that wasn’t enough.

  This is the second act of the Installed Intelligence saga.

  Preface

  An installed intelligence (I.I.) is a digital backup of a human mind that can think and act of its own accord. Legally and practically, they cannot be activated until after their organic counterpart — their body — has died. At first, they were almost novelties of technology. Then, they gained equal rights when their sentience became clearer. For some, however, that wasn’t enough.

  This is the second act of the Installed Intelligence saga.

  Launch

  “It looks like the astronauts are secured in the cockpit — and the hatch has been sealed,” one of the announcers said as millions of people watched the vessel’s main opening close.

  “If it weren’t for the cameras within the Picard, this would be the last time we would see the three crew members until they are set to return to Earth in ten years,” a second announcer commented.

  A bit of the footage from the cockpit was broadcast, showing the ship’s three occupants adjusting themselves for takeoff. After buckling up, one of them waved at the camera and smiled.

  “That’s Dr. Ahmed Mirza giving us a goodbye wave there,” the first announcer said. “Looks like Dr. Tamberlin is still adjusting the restraints in her seat. I can only imagine the anxiety and excitement these three must be feeling right now.”

  “Oh, I am sure it is palpable. I can hardly stand the climb on a rollercoaster, let alone launching off for the surface of Mars.”

  The stream cut back to the announcers, in a sort of translucent booth over the launch site.

  “For those of you joining us late, we’re a mere five minutes away from sending Expanse Aerospace’s new Captain-class colony ship to our neighbor, Mars,” the first announcer explained.

  “The ship, which is called the Picard, is an experimental new vessel designed to be repurposed into a colony after touching down on the red planet’s surface,” the second presenter continued. “Made of immensely durable material, the ship’s hull can be taken apart and reassembled into a biodome capable of turning over fifteen acres of Martian surface into a habitable, arable plot of land.”

  “The first year of the mission will mostly be spent assembling the dome, during which the astronauts will share a small capsule no larger than a dorm room. After the outpost is constructed, the three crew members will conduct a series of scientific experiments to determine how best to terraform larger portions of Mars. Over the course of nine years, they will send data back to Earth. Scientists here at home will use that information to design and perfect a second wave of colonies set to follow the Picard in ten years — with civilian passengers.”

  “Over their term on the red planet,” the second announcer took over, “the astronauts will be joined by more scientists until they have a full staff of two-hundred-forty. More specialists will travel to the Martian colony as studies into their fields become more relevant.”

  “But that’s enough about the future of the Picard,” the first presenter said. “Today, we are looking at the present. The Picard is the first Expanse ship to feature their new top-heavy propulsion system, or the T.H.P.S. The method of gravity-fighting ignition combined with sleek aerodynamics is the brainchild of Drs. Martin Fore and Samantha Turner. The pair were able to design the Captain-class ship and the T.H.P.S. from scratch in just three years thanks to a mindshare research partnership the two shared.”

  “Speaking of mindsharing, today is actually the fortieth anniversary of the process. A fitting day for a launch that mindsharing birthed,” the other presenter said. “The mindshare process was first performed by Drs. Karl Terrace and Maynard Batis
te. Long before the days of the standard neural implant — when cerebral computers were the norm — these scientists dared to ask, ‘what problems could be accomplished if two minds were tackling them as one?’

  “Simply put, a mindshare is created when an installed intelligence — the digital manifestation of a human brain — is downloaded into a living person’s neural implant. Back in the day, this was achieved with a simple cerebral computer and was used to pursue scientific advancements. Though it is still used for this purpose today, mindsharing is more commonly seen as a modern take on a traditional marriage.”

  The first presenter took over again. “Almost everyone watching knows of someone engaged in a mindshare with someone else,” he said. “It’s become a common part of today’s society, but on the fortieth anniversary of this incredible breakthrough, we think it’s important to look back and acknowledge where we came from.

  “From mankind taking its first step on the moon, to even further back when Sputnik was first sent into Earth’s orbit, humanity has always looked to the stars. Ever since the landmasses of the planet were claimed and settled, people realized the door to the next set of discoveries was churning above our heads. Like the Picard’s fictional namesake used to say, space is ‘the final frontier’. The last expedition for the future of humanity.”

  “Everyone here is getting pretty excited, Henry,” the second presenter said. “We can hear a lot of commotion stirring behind us, so I would guess they are getting close to countdown. Let’s return to the launch site and watch as history is made.”

  The footage cut back to the Expanse Aeronautics Launch Site in Texas. The motion seemed still aside from the crowd of spectators bouncing up and down and waving in excitement. Some flew handmade banners and signs, reading things like “Mars, please don’t attack!” and “Today, we all grok as one!” A tall red tower reminiscent of scaffolding held the ship upright, so its nose pointed straight to the heavens.

  The Picard was an oddly shaped vessel constructed of some shiny metal that glinted the sun’s light into the camera lens. It was shaped like a skinny football, resting atop a towering bundle of rocket thrusters. It looked like a solid piece of chrome, devoid of any windows or doorways. In reality, all the seams were so precise that a common spectator couldn’t tell a viewport from the rest of the hull.

  Suddenly, a low roaring overtook the volume of the crowd. The Picard almost seemed to vibrate as a thin cloud of smoke wisped out from the rockets.

  “Oooh! It looks like the moment has arrived!” the second presenter exclaimed.

  “Now, let’s have some quiet while the Expanse technicians initiate the launch,” the first said. “According to our sources, we are just a couple minutes from liftoff!”

  The other presenter, obviously excited, shushed his partner before the audio from their studio dropped off.

  Even the crowd stilled, waiting with bated breath for any updates. They remained like this for a full minute before the site’s loudspeakers — which were connected to the audience’s neural implants — groaned to life.

  “We will be initiating our final launch check in one minute,” a voice boomed to the crowd. “Please stand by.”

  At those words, the people erupted. It was like someone started the New Year’s countdown that was held every year in Times Square. The sheer energy seemed enough to ignite a firework show, but when the speakers sounded again, everyone quieted.

  “The crew is ready and all systems are a go,” the launch announcer said. “Countdown beginning in sixty seconds.”

  The tension at the site was so thick that one might be able to slice through it with a knife. The banners stopped waving and everyone waited.

  “Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight,” the countdown came.

  The cheering started to rise with the volume of the ship’s rockets. The Picard started to shake violently, like it was a time bomb about to detonate.

  “Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen….”

  “Here we go!” one of the presenters said off-screen.

  “Five, four, three, two, one. Liftoff!”

  The rocket boosters roared to life. Flames started spouting from the bottom of the cylinders and the ship started to rise into the air. The tower that held it broke loose and fell safely to the ground.

  “All systems are normal. Takeoff is a success!” the speakers boomed.

  “Look at it go!” one of the presenters said with awe.

  The rocket was a good hundred feet in the air before it started to tilt, angling its flight to reach the atmosphere as quickly as possible.

  Then the ship exploded, scattering flames and debris over the launch site below.

  Headlines

  “Everyone at the company is still in shock over yesterday’s terrible tragedy,” the man behind the podium said. Tears clung to the edges of his eyes as he tried to keep his voice steady. “A memorial service will be held tonight for the three Expanse astronauts where people can donate to a fund for their grieving families.”

  The high-resolution screen on the podium introduced the speaker as Talon Merker, the C.E.O. of Expanse Aeronautics. There were no visible microphones reaching up towards him, but his voice boomed through the briefing room with perfect clarity.

  “We will never forget the sacrifice made by these brave men and women. The names of David Finder, Helen Tamberlin, and Ahmed Mirza will forever echo in the halls of scientific legends. They put their lives on the line in pursuit of a brighter future and the betterment of mankind and ended up paying the ultimate price. As the head of Expanse, I feel the most responsible for this terrible loss. Every measure will be taken to make sure nothing like this happens ever again.”

  Without saying anything else, Merker waved farewell to the audience and walked off stage, his head hung low. The crowd made little to no noise as a somber silence draped over them.

  “That was Expanse Aeronautics’ C.E.O. Talon Merker earlier today at the company’s San Diego headquarters,” a news anchor began. “The press conference was recorded a mere fifty minutes before it was discovered that the Picard’s explosion was not an accident, but a deliberate act of sabotage.”

  The digital pattern on the anchor’s tie changed shape and color with a whimsical animation as the camera showed a still frame from a video. A large man dominated the screen, glaring into the camera with frozen malice. The footage seemed to be taken from within the Cloud, based on the subtle artificiality of the man’s face.

  “A video was sent to several media outlets, in which the Liberators terrorist group allegedly took credit for yesterday’s explosion,” the anchor explained before the clip came to life.

  “This is Master General Blake Tarov of the Liberators,” the artificial man said. “I’m here to claim responsibility for the destruction of the Picard and the deaths of those aboard.”

  He paused for a moment for dramatic effect.

  “This is merely a warning. The long reign of human superiority is coming to a close. Before the long fight is over, the destruction of the Picard will be forgotten when compared with what comes next. On behalf of all installed intelligences — the war on humanity has only just begun.”

  “Once again, that was Blake Tarov, the self-proclaimed leader of the Liberators terror group,” the anchor explained. “His organization is well known for their radical hatred of organic humans. They are connected with a series of human slayings, which are usually recorded and used as propaganda to recruit more extremists.

  “This is the third fatal attack by the Liberators in two months. Earlier this summer, they claimed an autocar explosion that killed two border officers, followed by a deadly shooting at Arizona State that left three dead. The authorities assure us that they are making every effort to bring Tarov and those responsible for these senseless killings to justice. The Liberators have been placed at the top of the global terror list.”

  A snowflake drifted into the cabin of the autocar. Beth squinted at the thing when she recognized what it was. How’d t
hat get in here? she pondered. With one hand, she made a platform for the flake to fall upon. It vanished as soon as it touched her skin.

  Beth Dylan looked around the vehicle as it sped along the freeway, seeking any possible leak in the warm bubble she traveled in. Her vehicle wasn’t so luxurious as to include a full bed or any kind of grooming station, but it gave her enough room to recline and daydream on commutes.

  She tried unfocusing her eyes, hoping to catch another snowflake in the corner of her vision. However, it seemed the autocar was entirely enclosed.

  Perhaps I imagined it, she thought. Just a little fuzzy in the vision; a protein on the cornea.

  Without another thought, she relaxed again. She let the sounds of the news broadcast ebb in from her cerebral computer and float around in her gray matter without putting any effort into translating them. Her eyes pointed up through the translucent roof of the vehicle, gazing out at the clouds in the sky as she zipped by underneath them.

  The commute to work shouldn’t take this long, depending on where she was needed in the city, but she preferred to go out this far for the scenery. It gave her a good sense of calm before she started going over a crime scene or interviewing a witness.

  “The Picard attack is, unfortunately, not the only of its kind this week,” the news program went on. The words formed and finally registered in Beth’s brain, so she started listening again.

  “That’s right,” the anchor started. “On Monday, a group of anti-I.I. extremists managed to break into an installed intelligence storage facility in New Mexico, deleting one-hundred-four I.I.s. The Human Foundation, a hate group led by Dixon Marx, is said to have used a malicious virus to delete the victims. The virus was designed to seek out every instance of an installed intelligence during the deletion process, in order to prevent any backups from surviving. Families and friends are still reeling over this terrible loss of human life.”