by Vern Buzarde
He heard a familiar voice and smiled, turning around to find his old friend and business partner Jordy Sinclair, who said, “Look who decided to descend Mount Sinai. Now this is exactly why I come to this thing every year. How are you, my brother?”
They hugged. Memories of the two of them playing ping-pong in Jordy’s aunt’s garage flashed through his mind. They would play for hours while brainstorming ideas for their fledgling software company. That method had been captured in a documentary on startups at the time and began a trend in the valley that continued even today. “At peace, my friend. Following my bliss.”
“You look good. Been working out? Maybe getting ready to come back? Help save the world?”
“None of the above. I’m out for good. Just came here to catch up with old friends. Sit back and watch the plunging of the shivs.”
Jordy laughed. “I’ve got to sign in. Let’s catch up later. There are some new things I’m working on that you need to hear about. Might find them interesting. If nothing else, would be great to get your input.”
“Sure, let’s catch up later. I’ll be here until Sunday.”
Milo turned toward the busy crowd, recognizing most, including Satoshi’s protege. He waited for the name to form in his mind. Tess. Tess Carrillo. He watched as she navigated through the crowd, looking somewhat lost. As she made her way toward the main stage, most every male, and some females, turned their heads to catch a glimpse. Milo was once again reminded of how beautiful she was. No denying that. And smart. The fact that Satoshi had given her total autonomy over the quantum computer project was a clear indicator of his confidence in her, and it had obviously paid off. In another life, maybe they could have known each other.
***
Tess wasn’t sure she could make it through the presentation. The hallucinations and dreams had grown so intense she was having trouble keeping them separate. She was moving in and out of them with greater frequency, and with no warning. Each place seemed equally real. Whether they were somehow related to Prajna or she was descending into madness didn’t really matter anymore. Either way, she wouldn’t be able to function here much longer.
Her ears constantly rang. The vertigo was worse. Tess felt everything was colliding. Folding in on itself. She watched the others in the room with detached indifference, unable to find any thought or image that could offer relief. And now, her mentor and the man she’d come to think of as a second father was apparently dead. Only four days had passed since the crashed ruins of his jet had been discovered. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure if that was real or another rogue rift in her consciousness. The same was true of the nightmare that was the returning Essex. She wasn’t completely sure that was real either.
Satoshi had been adamant about her presenting the current status of Prajna to this particular group. He was specific about how important it was to him, and she felt compelled to fulfill his wish, even though she wanted to curl up in a ball on the floor. She was simply too emotionally weak to process his loss.
Now she was here to convey the progress of the world’s first sentient machine, something totally uncontrollable. If she told the truth, communicated Prajna’s real current state, most would be shocked, demand its destruction. That would be her reaction.
All she wanted to do was disconnect it—kill it. But Prajna was unassailable now, having completely isolated itself, no longer even in need of an external power source. It completely ignored her now. Tess felt fear in a way she had never known. Its alien nature was so contrary to the natural world. It was implementing some dark plan. Something terrible.
Tess was scheduled to present at eight p.m., after the facilitator went through the next day’s agenda. Her plan was to leave immediately afterward, return to Kalyana that night. Because of Satoshi’s status, his jet was given one of the prime spots, allowing for a quick exit, even though he wasn’t there. Assuming he was indeed dead, how the projects would move forward was unclear. Without him, everything was in disarray. She assumed he had detailed plans in place in the event of his death but had no idea how that might impact her personally. The thought of simply walking away from it all. From Prajna. Knowing it existed because of her misguided skills. Leaving it and hoping for the best wasn’t an acceptable option. Before she completely fell apart, she had to find a resolution. Some way to stop it.
And what about Ackerman? There was a rumor he was attending this year. How would she react to him, knowing his secret? His association with Enlightened Path was something that had been revealed only to her. But she had no proof other than Prajna’s assertion. Even if she tried to go to the authorities, what would she say? That an experimental machine that hated humanity determined he was the founder of a terrorist organization?
She had read the Enlightened Path manifesto during the trip to Switzerland. The agenda was clearly stated. It called for a total war on all technology and made an articulate case for the fact that mankind had passed a point of no return. She had been horrified by how some of the words resonated in light of the situation with Prajna. But the call for violence, the rally cry for millions of people to rise up, kill and destroy indiscriminately in order to halt the impending technological Armageddon, was impossibly barbaric. More the ramblings of a serial killer than a visionary. It was as if Satoshi and Ackerman were two sides of the same coin but complete extreme opposites in their views.
She realized the facilitator had been speaking for an hour. She checked her watch. It was time. As she glanced up, she saw him across the room. Staring straight at her.
***
Milo had been watching Tess for several minutes. She looked frazzled. He could see Satoshi’s death had taken an emotional toll. The presentation on the abomination they called Prajna would be interesting. Possibly provide some insight as to how he might leverage it in his quest. The irony of using the most advanced machine ever created in an effort to rid the world of all technology wasn’t lost on him. And after tonight, there would be no one left to stand in his way.
He glanced up at the heating vents. By now the microscopic nanobots would have been circulated throughout the room and inhaled by the crowd. Once activated through his phone, they would start the process of converting the bronchioles of each person’s lungs to gel.
Iko had engineered the bots to recognize Milo’s DNA and reject it. Milo had also had Iko slow their rate of consumption so the process would drag out from the original two minutes to ten. Just long enough for him to deliver a short farewell presentation. Key aspects of his manifesto. After all, recognition by one’s peers was always rewarding in and of itself. Even if they may not be receptive given the circumstances.
This was his opus. The brilliant composition that would resonate for the rest of time. Ridding the planet of the top perpetrators with one fell swoop would have incalculable consequences. A critical blow that would decapitate the serpent. The sheer notoriety Enlightened Path would gain from this event would spark a global response. This would go down in the annals of history as the day mankind struck back with a fatal blow. The day humans rejected the notion of functioning as slaves to machines or the handful of people who controlled them. With the push of a button on a cell phone, the world would become a different place. The new order was about to unfold, and he was the architect.
Milo watched as the rattled girl walked to the stage, appearing to be coming apart at the seams. He retrieved the cell phone, selected the app, and held his finger over the activation button. He glanced around the room at the unsuspecting audience, wanting to savor the enormity of the moment for as long as he could. He was the hawk, circling a room full of prey. He almost wished he’d planned to have music in the background. Something dramatic and dark like Wagner. He decided to play it in his head, the only ability he and his mother had shared. He thought a few minutes of Wagner’s De Ring des Nibelungen would be fitting for such an occasion.
***
Tess was introduced, and af
ter the enthusiastic applause ended, she started to speak, trying to focus on the crowd but having trouble maintaining her train of thought. Giant photographs of Prajna glowed on the screens behind her. The presentation was supposed to take approximately one hour, and there were thirty-two slides with bullet points. Tess immediately began to sense she might not make it through. Something was happening, and regardless of how hard she tried to concentrate, the thoughts seemed to be draining from her mind like a sieve.
Motion in the room slowed. She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes, and then all motion stopped. The room was silent. She stared out at the audience for several seconds, with no idea what was happening or what to do. Tess looked down at her hands and confirmed she was able to move them, thinking it was another hallucination or dream or possibly she had finally completely snapped.
The sound of dense heels meeting hardwood floors echoed. She recognized the unique pitch. They were Satoshi’s boots. He walked to her and smiled. “Thank you, Tess. I will handle things from here.”
She was numb. Satoshi’s eyes were full of something she had never seen. She looked back at the frozen crowd and saw movement by one person. Milo.
Satoshi turned toward the audience. “Milo. You’ve been so busy.”
Milo tapped his phone, put it back in his pocket, and slowly clapped his hands. “Now that is impressive. You certainly do have a flair for the dramatic. I really have no idea how you survived. Guessing it has something to do with those Gurkhas. Whatever you’re paying them, it’s really not enough. And this.” He held his hands out and looked around. “However you’re doing it would all make an epic Vegas show!”
“Thank you, Milo. I’m pleased you are impressed. And I have some more surprises for you.”
Tess stood silently, almost used to all the bent versions of the world that now seemed the norm. Something inside was encouraging her to simply embrace it as her new truth. An existence in a carnival fun house with dozens of distorted mirrors.
If I never look at the reflection, I won’t know how weird it is.
Milo smiled. “It’s done now. You can’t stop it. The fact things had to end like this is unfortunate. But there is no other way.”
“I’m curious, Milo. Exactly when did you decide mass murder might be the most effective strategy to achieve the goals you’ve outlined in your quaint manifesto? Hasn’t there been enough death?”
“When I realized people like you were about to release a pestilence more potent than anything imagined in the biblical description of the end of days. People so full of self-serving righteousness they can’t see past their Nobel Prize statues. You’re one of the Four Horsemen, and you don’t even realize it.” He nodded to the slide of Prajna. “This…thing you’ve created. It and its cousins won’t tolerate a role as a servant or slave. These electronic versions of the plague will devour the human race, not nurture it. Which would you choose? Total annihilation or a thinning of the herd, a return to the natural order?”
Satoshi turned to the slide of Prajna. “This is the natural order. We must evolve. Singularity is inevitable. Unavoidable. In fact, it’s already here.”
“Anything incompatible with nature has a history of choking on its own puke,” Milo said. “These things are cancerous to the natural order. I’ve made my choice. Placed my bet.” He coughed slightly, and his eyes narrowed.
“And you, Milo,” Satoshi said, “are you really so confident in the purity of your own righteous flame? Do you really believe returning to the Stone Age is consistent with the natural order?”
Milo coughed again. He grabbed the phone to check the timer.
“The bots you purchased from Byron—the ones you stole—they’re not controlled by the rogue scientist. They’re controlled by me. Through Prajna.”
Normal movement in the room resumed. The image of Satoshi suddenly appearing on the stage brought spontaneous cheers and a standing ovation. The audience erupted, pounding their hands together in thunderous applause. Satoshi smiled broadly, bowed to Tess, and held his hands up toward his peers, requesting a cease in the show of adulation.
Milo checked his phone, then checked again. He got up and moved toward the exit. Satoshi began to speak about Prajna with the charisma and enthusiasm that had become his trademark, watching Milo move through the aisle. He paused and said, “Milo? Milo? Are you leaving us? I think you’ll find this next part particularly interesting.”
Satoshi folded his hands in front of him and bowed his head slightly. The audience disappeared. The room they were in was completely empty except for Milo, Satoshi and Tess. Milo froze. The roof vanished, then a wall. Milo’s mind raced and for the first time in his life he felt panic, realizing he had somehow walked into a trap.
Satoshi said, “We are moving into a new era that will redefine the human experience. Our understanding of this world, our universe, is about to undergo the most radical transformation in the history of man. Our perception of reality will soon evolve to something currently unrecognizable. But you, Milo, unfortunately won’t be joining us. Your reality is now fixed. Your fate unalterable. You will have eternity to contemplate your misguided manifesto.”
The room vanished and Milo was standing in total darkness. He tried to glance down at his phone but he couldn’t see or feel anything. His face contorted in horror. He tried to reach out but couldn’t move. He closed his eyes and mumbled, “What have you done?”
34
“You’re combining with it, aren’t you?” Tess said, barely above a whisper. “You’re somehow merging with Prajna.”
Satoshi sat next to her. “No, at least not yet.”
They were on the jet that had brought Tess to Davos, now on their way back to Kalyana. “Can you help me understand what’s happening? All this. What I just experienced. Was it real? A dream? Am I losing my mind?”
“Tess, you are not imagining these things. Reality as we know it is in a process of transformation.”
“Reality is transforming? Or ending?”
Satoshi smiled. “I suppose the answer to that question is both.”
Tess looked out the window at the lights of some European city below, sensing for the first time he may have lost control of whatever was happening. The moon had expanded to an unfamiliar size, radiating an eerie red light like some celestial warning signal.
“I think maybe now might be the right time to have a conversation. One I wasn’t sure would ever take place.”
Tess closed her eyes, reluctant to hear what he was about to say. Can this really get any weirder?
“Tess, our lives, our world, everything that makes up what we think we know, is…to some degree, illusory. The only reality is the fact we all, you and I and every other thing, are part of a complex, for lack of a better word, system.”
She wanted to tell him that didn’t sound very earth-shattering after having watched what she thought was a dead man walk onto a stage and proceed to reveal she was standing in the middle of an elaborate illusion. “Of course, Anton.”
“And what if I substituted the word system with simulation?”
Tess wasn’t sure if she had heard the words correctly. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Are you speaking in hypotheticals?” She felt the jet bank gently to the right and increase its altitude. Both Gurkha guards were seated in the aft compartment, but she saw them briefly glance up until the jet stabilized.
“Think about the state of technology forty years ago. Computers from that era seem laughably primitive today. Our phones are thousands of times more powerful than the earliest supercomputers. A simple video ping-pong game on a black-and-white screen was considered something of a marvel. Today, we have virtual reality, augmented systems that seem so real that once immersed then removed, our normal reality momentarily appears manufactured.”
Tess smiled and poked his shoulder with a finger. “Are you real?” She was only half jokin
g.
“Yes. I am real. As real as you and everyone else here. I realize this is difficult to absorb. Open your mind. I believe you have the capacity to understand it all. Think, Tess, of what technology will look like in ten years. In one hundred. At some point, we will create a simulation that is indistinguishable from what we currently call reality. And think about this: If the universe has existed for billions of years, what are the odds this hasn’t happened already? What are the odds we are not currently living in an advanced simulation?”
“You mean…like some video game?”
“A simple way to look at it, but accurate enough. But powered by technology beyond our comprehension. Generated by advanced computers the size of planets or solar systems. Even galaxies. Consider the possibility that humanity evolved to a point it no longer resembled us. No longer had anything at all in common with us. How hard would it be for such entities to recreate multiple universes representing an unlimited number of scenarios?”
“But why? What would be their motivation?”
“Maybe out of curiosity. A desire to learn about their history from billions of years ago. Wouldn’t you be curious? Or perhaps they consider it entertainment. Maybe simply because they can. In many ways, the concept is not really inconsistent with the religious beliefs that have existed since mankind first stood on two legs. In fact, it’s not even contradictory to the concept of a supreme creator. The method by which the world was created is less important than the fact that we are conscious beings. And it is all completely consistent with certain aspects of quantum mechanics. In fact, it actually fills some holes we haven’t been able to reconcile.” He paused, offering her a chance to respond.
The pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “Dr. Satoshi, per your request, we are now flying over Paris. The view tonight is spectacular.”