by Vern Buzarde
“Yes. I mean, I think so. None of this makes any sense. I need to think it through. What if they’re video files, gruesome images of the bodies, or recordings of their suffering? I couldn’t take it, Nick. I couldn’t go through—”
“That already occurred to me. My plan is for Melvin Dunlap to open the file, in isolation, and take a look first. You won’t be exposed at all until we’re sure it’s not…what you said. I know this is asking a lot. But in order to figure out what the hell is going on here, we need every resource available, and you know more about Virgil than anyone on the planet.”
“I think I can do it. Give me a few minutes. I need to prepare myself, mentally and emotionally.”
“Of course. Think it through. I’ll let you know when we’re ready. If you decide it’s too much, I certainly understand. But I hope you’ll be able to participate. We need your help.”
Tess put the phone down. She tried to sort out the ramifications of this development, as well as the evolving situation with Prajna. It occurred to her it was no coincidence Virgil was sending the file at the same time Prajna was coming to life. Too much was happening at once. Everything was beginning to feel out of control again.
A spaceship containing the remains of two dead bodies, hijacked by a corrupted computer, returning from some unknown place, attempting to transmit a massive file. Oh, and by the way, the next generation of supercomputers appears to have awakened. Tess got out of bed and lifted the screen of her laptop. Her email loaded, and one of the senders listed was Virgil. The subject line said: Hey, can you talk?
The phone rang, and she jumped. It was the same number, and she briefly considered not answering. “Nick?”
“Tess, we’re ready. If you’re willing, I’ll send you the link so we can video conference.”
“I’m ready. But I reserve the right to bail if I hear anything too disturbing, particularly anything related to Ryan or Don.”
“I understand. We’ll wait for you to log in to the conference, then Melvin will begin.”
Thirty seconds later, a four-way split screen of Nick, two men she didn’t know, and Melvin, were displayed on her laptop.
“Okay, Melvin,” Nick said, “ready when you are.”
“Roger that. I’m…” Melvin shifted nervously. “I’m, boy, I’m feeling weird. Have this strange feeling in my gut.” He seemed embarrassed, clearly shaken. “Boy, I just don’t really know if I can—”
“Melvin,” Nick said, “if you’re not comfortable doing this, if you have any reservations at all, just say so. It’s fine. I can send in someone else. This is a lot to handle, for anyone.”
Melvin forced a smile. He was sweating profusely now. “No,” he said. “I don’t want to continue. In fact, in my whole life, I’ve never wanted anything more than to just run out of this room. Anything would be better than being here with this… Wow. This is all pretty embarrassing. You know what? I just need to concentrate.”
“Melvin,” Tess said, “do you see anything? Could you describe what’s on the screen?”
“I haven’t opened it yet. I’m not really sure how to express… Feels like…some strange place. Something that doesn’t belong here. Let me just catch my breath.” Melvin inhaled deeply, clenched his fists, and emptied his lungs three times, then, trying to convince himself, said, “I’m ready. Opening the file now.”
The surprise on his face, followed by horror, was unmistakable. Reflected light flickered off of his glasses.
“My brain!” he cried out. “It moved! Inside…head. My God, am I still alive? Can you still hear me?”
“Melvin,” Tess said, “get out of there. Don’t look at the screen!”
He stared helplessly, completely still. He tried to close his eyes and mumbled, “Endless darkness…loneliness I’ve never known…abandoned by all things human, nothing living. Only hopelessness.” Melvin’s head dropped toward his right shoulder, and he whimpered, “Help me. This thing…boiling, molten thing, burning through me. I’m not supposed to be here. No one is supposed to be here. Please help me.”
The muscles in Melvin’s face went slack, the skin hanging. His eyelids drooped over blank but somehow terrified eyes.
“Melvin, get out!” Tess yelled. “Nick, get him out of there!”
“Infinite weight,” Melvin said, “my…consciousness…tiny slices…evaporate…infinity. Help m—”
Nick was yelling to people off screen. “Get him out of there. But don’t look at the screen!”
Melvin began to mumble something unintelligible. As the guards rushed into the room, Melvin screamed, “For Tess! For Tess! For Tess! For—” He started convulsing.
“I think he’s having a heart attack,” one of the guards said. “Call an ambulance!”
“Nick,” Tess said, “seal off the room. Don’t let anyone else go in there. For any reason.”
“Hang on,” he said. “Let’s just all take a deep breath. Tess, Melvin obviously had a heart attack. I don’t think it had anything to do with this. Let’s not let our imaginations run wild. This is an emotionally charged event for everyone, Tess. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”
“He saw something, Nick,” she insisted. “Something he couldn’t handle. Melvin didn’t have a random heart attack. He was mentally overwhelmed. His brain shut down because it couldn’t process what he was seeing.”
“I need to take this upstairs. I’ll be in touch. Really appreciate your help, Tess.” Nick ended the conference call.
Tess got up and looked out her window at the incredible view of the valley below, reworking the puzzle pieces in her mind. Earlier, with Prajna, she’d thought the finish line was in sight, a much-needed win just around the corner. Now she wondered if her journey had just begun.
***
Forty thousand feet in the air, over the coast of Sri Lanka, Anton Satoshi smiled at his laptop. Everything was unfolding as planned. There was no room for error.
24
Iko Sukarno looked up from the atomic microscope and said, “I still don’t know exactly how he did it. And you say he’s dead now?”
“Yes,” Byron said. “An unfortunate accident, something to do with tools, I’m told.”
Iko said, “Somehow he was able to alter the molecular code at a specific point that would be like throwing a dart from a jet and hitting a bull’s-eye. My guess is it was just luck. Like he picked the winning lottery numbers. And it was something he couldn’t have duplicated. Believe me, there’s just no way. Not him. I know that guy, and—”
“So what exactly does that mean?” Milo asked. “Can you reactivate the bots? Turn the self-replicate switch back on?”
“Yes, I think so. But they might be volatile. Until I understand just how he was able to manipulate them…we need to be cautious.”
“Make it a priority. I need this,” Milo said, then turned to leave.
“One thing I might mention,” Byron said. “These bots…” He suddenly sounded nervous. “In the initial test, they replicated, then self-destructed as programmed, just like I told you. But something changed. They stopped dying.”
“You mean they altered their programming?” Iko asked. “On their own? I really don’t see how that could be possible. It would require external intervention.”
“I’m just telling you what I saw. It got a little out of hand.”
“You’re not telling us something,” Milo said.
“I’ve told you everything I know. I’m the one who brought these to you. I’m the one who—”
“Who saw this besides the dead accidental creator of these things?”
“Dora Hahn,” Byron mumbled. “She was there. She and Stijn got into a fight. Stijn tried to kill her, and, well, she was fighting for her life. Dora killed Stijn, then left. Nobody knows where she is. She just disappeared. Completely off the grid.”
“No doubt she told Satoshi a
bout it,” Milo said.
“I don’t think so. She was so scared. So panicked. I don’t think she trusts anyone at this point. Not even Satoshi. She may suspect that Stijn was working on the modifications with Satoshi’s approval.”
“And maybe he was,” Milo said, starting to see a clear path forward. “Leave Dora Hahn to me. In the meantime, Iko, learn everything you can about these bots. The priorities are controls as well as their potential for processing different materials.”
Byron was unable to resist. “So are you joining Satoshi’s crusade to use these things to clean up the environment?”
Milo didn’t reply.
Byron hesitated, then said, “Milo…about the money. Could you, will you—”
Milo walked away. Without turning around, he said, “Check your account. If I were you, I’d use it to follow the Dora Hahn survival plan. If Satoshi ever finds out about you betraying his trust? Well, let’s just say I know for a fact how ruthless the most popular man in the world can be.”
***
Milo clicked on the file. The encryption finished, and a live video feed of the Douglas Castro Building lobby appeared.
He checked the viewer count. Forty-five million four hundred thousand and thirty-eight and growing. Two minutes later, the mundane background murmur was drowned out by an explosion. The image rattled violently, and the screen filled with smoke. An arm tumbled past the camera. Sirens blared and were cut off by a series of thundering blasts that knocked the camera on its side, the view oriented vertically. A bloodied man with something protruding from his head came into view and stopped in front of the camera, a puzzled look on his face. He stood there, staring into the camera while the flames came closer, then wrapped around him, engulfing him. His expression never changed.
The enormity of Milo’s achievement should have pleased him but ultimately did little to quench the fire burning inside. All his success merely illustrated that his existence was beyond the laws of this world. His awareness grew exponentially now, his consciousness having deeply penetrated reality’s veil. Not so much evolving as returning to what he’d always been. This world had been created for him to purify. And to help the human race find redemption, if possible. Milo had chosen this role on some cosmic level, initiated his restriction in its constraints. A contest, some kind of competition. The history he’d written for himself concealed his ability to see it at first, a challenge that had to be overcome. But he had and was nearly to the finish.
He really had nothing left in common with the human race. His mastery of this world was fitting for an entity in the process of becoming a god. A god with a burning desire for purity. The one truth. The path to redemption and the only sustainable way.
He had again successfully penetrated one of the most sophisticated security systems on the planet. There was nothing he couldn’t do. But this was almost inconsequential in comparison to his next project. A different order of magnitude.
Dora Hahn had to be found. She was the a loose thread that could potentially cause this to unravel. Byron was harmless but would be taken care of anyway. Milo had gotten everything he needed from the man.
***
Tom Simon peered into the camera. “This just breaking: We have received reports that multiple Silicon Valley companies are being attacked by angry mobs. The growing anti-technology movement appears to be at the heart of all this. Let’s go live now to our own Kate Cavuto. Kate, what can you tell us?”
“Tom, this is a truly wild scene. There was an explosion in the lobby of the Douglas Castro Building. Hundreds of men and women dressed in black, some with body armor, most wearing masks, have gathered here in what appears to be an organized siege of the building. As most of our viewers know, the Douglas Castro Company supplies guidance systems for jets and missiles to the military. I’m told security to the upper floors in the building has been breached, and we’re hearing unconfirmed reports that Douglas Castro himself has been taken hostage.”
“Kate, we’re watching from our helicopter, Sky Eye 2, and it looks like the crowd is getting bigger. Is that what you’re seeing on the ground?”
“Yes, Tom I can confirm the crowd—”
The view from the camera was suddenly upside down, looking at the sky, and it sounded as if the microphone bounced on a hard surface. Kate’s voice, sounding distant, said, “Let go! Let go, you son of a bitch! Don’t you know who—” Her voice cut off. The camera tumbled, ending up catching a stampede of passing legs.
“Kate? Kate? Well, we appear to be having technical difficulties. I’m sure our top-notch support team will have things working in no time. While we’re waiting, let’s bring in our expert, Dr. Evan Briscoe. Dr. Briscoe, you’re a clinical psychiatrist, specializing in terrorism. Can you shed any light on what these recent attacks might mean? They’re more frequent, and the violence is escalating. Much of this is being attributed to an organized terrorist group. Just a reminder, ladies and gentlemen, it is our policy not to name any of these groups.” He returned to the guest and said, “So, Dr. Briscoe, what makes people so receptive to participating in violence?”
“Tom, first of all, thank you for having me on. I talked about this at great length in my latest book, The Prophecies of Ted Kaczynski, which is currently number nineteen on the New York Times Bestseller List. The rise of Neo-Luddism can be traced directly to the disconnect human beings feel due to the rapid advancement of technology. Technology that’s now a part of almost every aspect of our lives. We are increasingly controlled by devices. Computers, cell phones, even home appliances have changed the way our brains function. Social media is particularly problematic. Our brains are designed for human interaction, which social media venues seem to provide. But there’s something missing. It’s like a sugar high, briefly stimulating but ultimately offering no nutrition. We aren’t experiencing the basic human connections necessary for a healthy mental and emotional state, a requirement embedded in our DNA.”
“So, let me see if I follow you. You’re saying, social media and sugar may have the same negative effect on people? Dr. Briscoe, do you think social media could turn out to be yet another cause of obesity? Even diabetes?”
Dr. Briscoe appeared dumbfounded, uncertain how to respond. “There’s a deep-seated anger, particularly among younger people. A sense of despair. A feeling of hopelessness. The message organizations like Enlightened Path—”
“Whoops, we don’t say the name, Dr. Briscoe. Don’t worry, we’ll catch it in the twenty-second delay.”
“The message these organizations offer is one that some perceive as hope. A chance to fight for a better world. That’s why En— these organizations are being embraced.”
Tom looked at the camera. “Thank you for coming, Dr. I’d like to remind our viewers they can get the latest news, twenty-four hours a day, by following our Facebook page. And while you’re at it, follow me on Twitter at Tomtom2forU.”
Part 4
Convergence
25
Tess sat in Satoshi’s office, staring at the magnificent view of the mountains filling the windows. He’d called the previous night informing her of his intention to visit, to finally meet Prajna. She had asked him to postpone, but he had been adamant.
“Anton, I just want to prepare you. Prajna is extremely volatile. And uncooperative. Something major has occurred. But it’s…not quite right. It seems angry. It possesses an unhealthy intensity that’s hard to understand. There’s a terrible sense I get that it almost feels some level of disgust. With us. With all this.”
“I understand. But that isn’t necessarily negative. The fact Prajna has any emotion is, in my view, a positive.”
“I believe Prajna is experiencing interference. On a quantum level. It does have some type of sentience. But its consciousness, if you can call it that, its reality, seems…on some other plane. I can’t quite describe it.”
Satoshi smiled, a curious exp
ression on his face. “And?”
“And there’s something else. I believe as Prajna becomes more aware, our reality is somehow being impacted. At least our perception of reality.” For a minute she thought she saw concern in his eyes. An alien glimmer.
“What leads you to believe this, Tess?”
“I’m experiencing…events. At first I thought they were hallucinations, possibly brought on by stress or fatigue. I even considered it might all be due to a mental disorder. But that’s not it. At least not all of it. Anton, something is changing. I know how crazy this sounds, but Prajna’s presence is having some sort of effect on…reality?”
Anton smiled at Tess from behind the large glass desk. “On reality? Or just you?”
Tess steadied herself, suddenly feeling small in Satoshi’s giant office. “Mine. Ours. It’s difficult to explain. Prajna is lurching toward a different kind of awareness. Incompatible with ours. Its specific form of consciousness doesn’t equate to humanness. Prajna believes humans are incapable of true awareness. We were hoping to create something that could achieve sentience. And we did. At least on some level. But it doesn’t believe we have. Prajna believes our perception of reality, our awareness, is no more sophisticated than… Well, its exact word was virus. And now…I think it’s about to do something terrible.”
Satoshi cocked his head. “Tess, I’m confident we can work with Prajna. Teach it to be more accepting of us. Show it that cooperation is in its best interest.”
Tess realized Satoshi was neither surprised nor alarmed by what she’d told him. She looked directly into his eyes. “Anton, Prajna is not only sentient, it’s becoming prescient as well. It’s beginning to see things. Things in some other place, even though it’s completely cut off from the outside world, including the internet. It’s developing into something we don’t understand. Something dangerous. I have this feeling. I’ve had it before, and—”