by Ryan Somma
1.15
A poster crawling with anime characters striking action poses towered over Devin, who bounced on his heels impatiently in Patrick’s bedroom. He tried remaining patient, immersing himself in the many fan boy collectables littering the room, but couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to check on the boy standing across the room decked out in the VR helmet and gloves.
He could not shake the idea that this was all his fault. He told Flatline to go for it. It was like in the second grade, when Devin had thrown a rock at a playmate, splitting the girl’s forehead open and sending her to the Emergency Room for stitches. For days his mother nagged, “What were you thinking?” and he honestly did not know. He felt no animosity towards the girl. The rock left his hand before he even knew what he was doing. At least, that was all he could remember about it. That, and immediately wishing he could take it back, but the scar was in place, and all the apologies in the world could not undo it.
Here was something different. Here was a situation he might yet undo. The rock was loose, but still in the air. If he could find Flatline and end the assault before anyone else was hurt, he might redeem himself.
Devin checked on the seventh-grader in the VR helmet again and decided to ask for a status update. He pressed the intercom button on the computer, interrupting Patrick’s Web-surfing, “Have you found anything yet?”
“Not much,” Patrick answered through the computer’s speaker, the helmet soundproofed his voice; “It looks like he’s got a bazillion avatars, which is making it impossible to know if I’m getting anything on him. The Internet’s crawling at a snail’s pace thanks to that virus. It’s like I’m on my grandmother’s old T-1 line. Half of it isn’t even coming up. I’m checking some nicknames against the law-enforcement databases to see if anything turns up. Tell you what, why don’t you check in with me every sixty-seconds to see how it’s going? That helps.”
“Sorry,” Devin turned the intercom off and sighed deeply. He felt fatigued, going on thirty-something hours without sleep. Slumping down onto Patrick’s bed, he noticed the “Super Science Ninja Squad” bed sheets with mild amusement. When he lay down, it felt like his body was melting into the mattress, warm darkness enveloping him as he fell away into its bliss.
“Found something!” Patrick exclaimed through the intercom. Devin bolted upright.
“What?” Devin gasped, bewildered, and remembered to push the intercom button, “What did you find?”
“A law enforcement record,” Patrick announced proudly, “from almost twenty years ago. A juvenile offense for one Almerick Lim, AKA Necromancer was recorded in San Francisco for Credit Card fraud.”
“We’re not looking for an avatar named Necromancer though,” Devin was frustrated, punchy, “I told you, it’s Flatline.”
“I know that,” Patrick sounded defensive, “Like I said, it seems he uses multiple avatars. Necromancer is one of them. He also goes by EvilDead, Reanimator, MorticianOne, Sexton, Post-Mortem, and GraveDigger.”
“I’m seeing a pattern here,” Devin muttered.
“Yeah,” Patrick gave a short laugh, “WTF?”
“How did you find that?” Devin asked, “I thought juvenile convictions were private.”
“Free Information Network,” he replied, “It beats doing the footwork yourself.”
Devin nodded, of course. The Free Information Network was a loosely organized club of hacker’s from around the world like the Legion of Discord who believed in total freedom of information. They published corporate salaries, political donations, criminal records, and anything else proprietary they could get a hold of. No sooner would one push stolen data to the Web then the International Web Authority would shut them down, but then it was too late. The information was out. All evidence suggested the Network was comprised entirely of individuals operating solo, decentralized, attributing their actions to the Network out of idealism rather than actual membership. The Free Information Network was a cause to fight for, not an organization to follow.
“Can you give me a printout of the record?” Devin asked and Patrick stiffened.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Patrick cautioned, “You get caught with this information, you go to jail.”
“I know,” Devin said.
“For a long time,” Patrick emphasized.
“I need the information,” Devin pressed, “I have to stop him.”
“What are you going to do?” Patrick sounded skeptical, “Go over to his house and beat him up? That won’t stop his computer virus.”
“No,” Devin responded, “I’m going to take it to the police.”
“What?” Patrick exclaimed, “Are you on meta-amphetamines? You can’t take this to the police! You’ll go to jail! And me too!”
“No you won’t,” Devin promised, “I appreciate what you’re doing for me and I’m not going to turn you in. I’ll tell the police I found the record online myself.”
“I still don’t understand why you can’t just look this up yourself,” Patrick muttered.
“Because he won’t let me online, I told you that.”
“How?” Patrick asked, incredulous, “How can he keep you offline?”
“I don’t know. Look, please get me a hardcopy of that document. I promise you won’t be mentioned,” Devin pleaded.
“All right,” Patrick sighed, “but I want something in return. What can you trade for it?”
“Whatever you want,” Devin answered, “I’ve got plenty of pirated software, movies, music, porn—”
“Porn,” Patrick cut him off, “I want gobs of porn.”
“You got it,” Devin replied coolly, “I’ll upload it to your server when I get back online.” Pornography was the universal currency of the information world. Devin didn’t care for it on principle. It was an evolutionary maladaptation to become aroused by virtual sex, where there was no chance of reproduction.
“Okay, give me a second,” Patrick went silent, his gloved hands working with invisible objects in front of him. He stopped, “That’s odd.”
Devin stood up, alarmed “What’s odd?”
“It’s gone,” Patrick sounded confused, “The record’s gone.”
“Patrick, log out,” Devin told him, panic edging into his voice.
“That’s really weird,” Patrick continued, “Even if the site went down I should still be able to print out a hardcopy. I can’t even find the document in my cache.”
“Patrick,” Devin raised his voice, emphasizing each word, “You have to log out now. It’s Flatline. He’s onto you. If you stay online he’ll get to you.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Patrick dismissed him, “How could someone even detect me, much less—” Patrick stiffened suddenly, and collapsed to the floor, convulsing.
“Patrick?” Devin reached down and ripped the helmet off. Patrick shrieked and went still.
Devin stood still, watching Patrick and holding his breath. His heart raced as he considered the boy, whose head was tilted back awkwardly and his eyes rolled halfway up into his head. He convulsed slightly every few seconds and drool slowly oozed from the corner of his mouth.
Then Devin heard the sirens and felt a wave of relief. It was law enforcement, not Flatline. They had blasted Patrick with a strobe feed to send him into a seizure that would detain him until they could get here. Then Devin’s relief was replaced with dread. They were going to arrest him.
Devin swung the bedroom door open and bolted down the hallway. He slipped on the stairs and skidded on his butt all the way down to the first floor. From there he stumbled through the foyer and through the front door. After a quick dash around the street corner, he forced himself to resume a normal pace as several law enforcement vehicles bearing the Black Water Security logo flew past him.
Only then did he check his monocle for the local area again. It was hopeless. Devin simply didn’t know how things worked out here. Any moment those Black Wate
r officers were going to get the video stream of him fleeing the house. Once they sold his face to the other law enforcement companies, they would patch it into the face recognition systems and Devin would have nowhere to run.
“Hey buddy,” Devin jumped back from the shabbily-dressed man approaching him.
What’s wrong with him? Devin thought to himself, “Are you okay?”
“I’m trying to get enough money for a sammich,” the man held out a weathered hand. “Could you spare me 42-cents?”
“Sure, I guess,” Devin pulled out his debit card and looked at it. “I’ll transfer the money to your account.”
The man looked confused and off-balance. He said, “Naw. I ain’t got no account. I need money. You know a quarter, a dime, a nickel, and two-pennies… Or four dimes and two-pennies… or two-dimes, four-nickels, and—”
Devin stared at the man and got an idea. He held out his debit card, “I’ll trade you this for your hat, scarf and coat. There’s enough money to buy you all new clothes and a sandwich on it. My allowance was credited today.”
The old man took the debit card and looked at the balance. His eyes widened, “It’s a deal!”
“Great,” Devin smiled, “Do you know a place without cameras where I can change into them?”
Sinking into the mound of trash bags, Devin peeked over the dumpster’s edge to make sure the coast was clear. There were no signs of pursuit. He nestled down into the plastic, pulling a few bags over his legs for warmth. He then pulled up the collar of his coat and tucked his arms into the sleeves. He was thankful for the hat, but could do without the rank odor of smoke and bile the scarf carried. His heart jumped once when he saw flashing blue lights, but the patrol car passed silently by in the dark and he tried to relax.
His stomach grumbled and he frowned at it. All of this walking, running, climbing, and other physical nonsense was consuming far too much energy. He only needed a couple of snacks a day to keep him going online. Eating, pooping, eating, pooping—what was the point?
Needing a distraction, he placed his monocle over his right eye and browsed its local folders. There was the Library of Congress, but Devin’s mind was focused on more utilitarian softwares. He found a folder labeled “Flatline Warez 2.0,” these were the programs Flatline had shared with him during their friendship. He quickly slipped the disc into his monocle and ran an inventory of its contents. Among the credit-card number hackers, software crackers, and phone-card swiping programs were three avatar-specific programs. This programming code was incomprehensibly complex, but filled with notes Flatline had written in absurdly erudite technical jargon for no other reason, Devin suspected, than to illustrate his superior intellect to anyone who might read them.
Devin shook his head ruefully, What a jerk.
So Devin scanned for keywords and soon found the word “masking”. This program would present a fake avatar to the servers. Whether it would hide him from Flatline long enough for him to find help, Devin could only hope.
What help do you expect to find?
With this doubt, his hopes sank like there was a lead weight on his heart. Sun-Wu Kong and Traveler were the obvious candidates. They had the technical expertise to challenge Flatline, but the way things sounded, no one in the world was able to take on this AI invasion. They were the most logical choices, but another name crept into Devin’s mind against his will. Someone he longed to talk with just because.
BlackSheep.
He shook the thought from his head, he would figure out what to do once he was online again. The homeless person had told him the public library had free VR-helmets and gloves to surf the Web. If Devin could get there in the morning, he might be able to get online. He merely had to avoid arrest in a city where every law enforcement company was looking to cash in on the bounty he was most likely carrying on his head.
My mom’s gonna kill me, he thought slipping down between the trash bags and into sleep.
1.16
The program finished its sweep after thirty-three minutes, fifteen seconds and Alice shifted to the edge of her seat. If the anti-virus software was successful, now would come the proof. The system’s resource monitor dropped from one hundred percent, leveling off at two percent, average for an idle computer. If the virus jumped out again so would the resources monitor. Nothing.
“Success,” Alice said without enthusiasm, keeping her eyes on the monitor.
“Very good,” Mow Chien said, watching from his system.
“Yeah,” Alice did not look at him; her eyes were still fixated on the monitor. Any moment she expected to see that processing spike that would send her back to square one, but there was nothing. It seemed unreal, having spent the entire night fighting it.
“You are sorry to see it loose,” Mow noted looking over her shoulder, “Perhaps you wish it would rise from the ashes again?”
Reluctantly, Alice turned away from the monitor, and looked at him Her downcast face speaking volumes
Mow nodded, “Unfortunately its purpose is not constructive.”
Alice glanced at Dana across the room, who had her thumb pressed to her temple and was speaking through her pinky into the cellphone implanted in her hand. The woman was too engrossed in her conversation to hear them. Alice said to Mow, “I can’t help but wonder…” Her eyes dropped.
“Yes?” Mow ducked his head under hers, seeking eye contact.
“Do you believe in Artificial Intelligence?” she asked him, looking up.
Mow did not have to think about it, “Of course. We think we are unique… gifted, but it is only a matter of time until our thinking machines can out-think us. Look at how advanced chatbots have become, most people don’t know the difference. Sooner or later the human mind will produce another kind of mind.”
“Another kind of mind,” Alice muttered, “This program learns, adapts, and improves itself. Doesn’t that qualify?”
“Perhaps,” Mow was thoughtful, “but we do not see sentience. We do not see purpose in its actions. In the absence of reason, we cannot know if it is truly intelligent.”
Alice nodded silently. The green, scrolling graph of the processor’s usage was now a flat line across the screen, dead. After a pause she spoke again, “I suppose if we could communicate with it, then it could tell us its purpose.”
Mow shrugged, “Or if we could find its designer…”
“If only we were so lucky,” Alice sighed.
“We might just be,” it was Dana announced, “It looks like we’ve got a lead, a kid named Devin Matthews living in Norfolk, Virginia of all places. I’ve sent agents to his parent’s house to confiscate his computer. He evaded the local law enforcement several hours ago, but we were only just able to negotiate a price for the ID.”
“I don’t believe it,” Alice folded her arms over her chest. “No way a kid pulled off a piece of programming this advanced. It’s a ruse, a decoy thrown out by the real programmer.”
“The kid’s a lot smarter than his file shows,” Dana countered, and stuck out her chest. “He’s connected with avatar swiping, identity theft. We’ve got evidence of him infiltrating secure databases with 1024-bit encryption. What you see in his profile is the front, all the real work he’s done was under the avatar of one Almerick Lim.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Alice muttered, shaking her head, and then under her breath, “but a luddite like you wouldn’t understand why.”
Dana reminded herself that, while Alice was smarter, she could still break the wisp of a woman in half easily. She wasn’t even an A-cup for goodness sakes. Dana pretended not to hear the remark, “He was wise to pick that avatar too. I actually met Almerick Lim ages ago when I was an independent contractor. He’d designed some softwares so powerful they shut down DataStreams Incorporated for a month. Only he didn’t program them,” Dana said, remembering the odd, egotistical fellow with the penchant for nightmarish avatars. “He grew them, had a series of servers he used to randomly generate programs and then let them comp
ete for survival.”
“Where is he now?” Alice perked up.
“Dead,” Dana said. “He committed suicide when the company shut down his experiment.”
Alice sighed, “I guess it just seems anticlimactic.”
“How do you mean?”
“She was expecting more,” Mow spoke up, “This virus is quite spectacular. We we’re looking forward to meeting its engineer.”
Dana looked confused, “Well, considering the level of effort you put into destroying the thing, no human on earth could meet your expectations. The best you could hope for was aliens from outer space.”
Alice grinned suddenly, looking distant.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Mow scorned Dana, “She’s fantasizing about programs written by extraterrestrial life. You know better.”
“I don’t know how her mind works,” Dana defended and waved a hand in front of the ghostly woman, “Alice.”
Alice blinked and returned to the Detective, “Yes?”
Dana pointed at the data scrolling across the screen, it was gibberish to her, “What’s the next step? We need to move on this.”
“The next step is getting this program to all major networks and service providers around the world,” Alice said, “We need to make sure they all run the program at approximately the same time, attack on all fronts at once, to give the virus no chance to react. Tell the administrators that the program will consume all system resources, so they won’t be able to do anything else while it’s running. Once finished, the program will trace the virus to other systems and scour them too.”
“Okay, I’ll need your help preparing a statement,” Dana began to walk out of the room, “We’ll put your program on the Net with instructions on how to use it.”
“No!” Alice stood up urgently, “You can’t use the Web!”
“Why not?” Alice’s reaction catching Dana off-guard.
“Because…” Alice seemed unsure, “Because you might warn the virus of our intentions.”
Dana only stared at her with disbelief.
Alice waved her hands as if she were seeking to pull words from the air, “From the behavior I’ve observed, this thing actually reads programs and understands them. I don’t know how, but the way it reacts implies some form of intuition. It might be able to read our e-mails and Web sites as well.”
Dana regarded Alice as if she’d just sprouted a third arm out of her forehead.
“We can’t take the chance,” Alice pressed.
“Okay,” Dana said reluctantly, still regarding Alice oddly, “You’re the expert on this. We’ll do it the old fashioned way… with radio broadcasts, phone and paper alerts. We’ve got a system in place in case the entire World Wide Web disappears. We’ll activate that. Get the documentation ready for your software.”
Mow watched the detective go before turning to Alice, “You sure this is going to work? It seems very ambitious.”
“It all depends Mow,” Alice said, returning to her monitor.
“On what?” Mow asked.
Alice was engrossed in the monitor again. Her speech was drowsy, as if her mind were far away, “On whether or not the thing mutates into something more powerful before we can destroy it.”
1.17
It was a welcome relief when Devin found the library open. His cautiousness had doubled his traveling time, but here no one would notice him, and with a VR Helmet on, he would become completely, wonderfully anonymous.
Taking a seat at one of the stations, he casually ran a wire from his monocle into the station’s port. He then loaded the “Flatline Warez” folder and ran Flatline’s avatar-masking program. His concern now was that the program would be too complex for him. Luckily, it automatically interfaced with the system, fabricating an avatar without any effort on his part. A pop-up window on his palm-computer informed him it was now safe to access the Web.
The moment of truth, Devin slipped the helmet over his head and pulled on the VR gloves. The helmet hummed as fans cooled the processors. Status messages flashed before his eyes. It was an older model helmet, so it took longer to override his retinas and log him into the system. The helmet lacked noise canceling, making him very cognizant of his breathing. He made it this far, if he could not get on the Web, his only remaining option was to turn himself in and play the role of Flatline’s patsy.
The Web phased gently into existence, and he stood in the middle of an abyssal desert. Looking down at himself he found an androgynous wire frame, the avatar of an anonymous user.
Devin reached up tentatively, this was not his avatar; it did not possess any of his software. It was like trying to use a computer customized for someone else. He would have to go through a third party. Devin tried accessing the Waygate search engine.
“Waygate not found,” the system reported.
This was expected. Most of the Net was down according to the news feeds. He began testing various people finders and found one still working after wracking his brain for several minutes.
A tuxedo-wearing chatbot greeted him at the directory entrance and welcomed him into the lobby. Patterned after an extravagant hotel, the Website slowly warped behind the concierge. Its angles skewing and its walls alternately closing in and drawing out, the room made Devin ill, like the appearance of the AI’s. They were straining this service provider.
There were glitches in the servant’s voice when he spoke, “Welcome to the Ask Jeebs information portal. Simply—”
“Stop,” Devin commanded, “Take me to a people finder.”
The room melted slowly into something else. An old-fashioned circuit board formed out of the wall, wires sprouting from it.
The concierge was now holding an antique telephone on a tray in front of Devin, “What is the name of the Avatar or person you wish to find?”
“Traveler,” Devin said, and supplied the IP address to distinguish it from all the other ‘Travelers’ in the world.
“Paging…” the Jeebs chatbot trailed off for a moment. “No answer.”
Devin tried Sun-Wu Kong next, and then Flatline without success. It was with a deep sense of guilt that Devin finally said, “BlackSheep.”
“Paging…” the butler sizzled, waves of static rolling over him, “Found, status online. Attempting to establish a connection… First attempt… Success. Who may I say is calling?”
“Devin,” he almost whispered, and then added, “Omni.”
“One moment please,” the chatbot phased out of existence and BlackSheep’s goth cupie-doll phased into the room.
“Where the hell have you been?” she demanded, hands on hips, and Devin almost cried in relief.
“Looking to play a game of chess?” she asked, batting her eyes innocently.
Devin wondered if he should. Was it best to put off sharing his troubles or just spill his guts and get it over with? He had no idea how long he had before the avatar-masking program broke down and booted him off the Web. If Flatline wasn’t blocking his avatar anymore, then his identity and location would be revealed to the authorities. In the library he was a sitting duck.
“Uh, sure,” he said uncertainly, “A game of chess sounds nice.”
BlackSheep quirked a curious eyebrow at him. The desert phased out and their private game room phased in. The chessboard floated between her cartoon cupie-doll and his green-wire frame figure. He took a contemplative stance, emulating Rodin’s ‘Thinker’.
“Where’s your avatar?” she asked him inevitably.
“Long story,” he replied, staring at the table, “It’s been a rough couple of days.”
“That’s becoming the norm,” she said, “I thought you might be responsible for that virus, considering how you disappeared just before it hit the Web. Where did you go anyway? I’ve been waiting on pins and needles to stomp you on these sixteen squares. I’ve really got it cinched this time.”
“Don’t you always?” Devin snapped, “After all, you have the advantage of not having anything else to do
with your time. Me, I’ve got a million other things weighing down on me.”
“So where did you go?” BlackSheep pressed impatiently.
“I was detained,” he muttered, “It’s complicated. I’m kind of wanted by the police right now.”
“What?” the doll jumped up and leaned over the table, “What do you mean ‘kind of wanted by the police’? How can you be ‘kind of wanted by the police’? This has something to do with the hacker you were hanging out with, doesn’t it?”
“He framed me,” Devin said defensively, “He’s set me up to take the fall for the Flatline Virus, only it’s not a virus at all. They’re…” He trailed off, not wanting to sound crazy.
“What?” she asked, and the concern in her voice tempting him to let it all out.
“Nothing,” he shook his head, “I shouldn’t even be telling you this. It’s dangerous. He might be listening in on our conversation right now. I didn’t want to contact you. I just didn’t know where else to go.”
“So what’s the price on your head?” she leaned over the board with too much interest.
“What?” he sounded shocked, and his green wire frame sat up straight, “You aren’t thinking about--?”
“Of course not silly,” she cut him short, waving his hurt feelings off, “I’m joshing. Seriously though, what can I do to help?”
“I don’t know,” Devin felt the fatigue creeping in again, “I don’t think it’s safe for you.”
“I’m not afraid of some sissy hacker,” the doll stood up to pound a fist on her chest confidently, “What’s he going to do? Send me a resentful e-mail? What do you need from me? You want me to meet you someplace? I’ll even come down to Norfolk and help you get up here… if you need me to.”
Devin was confused, “I thought you hated to leave your apartment due to your condition.”
“What’s my condition have to do with it?” she demanded.
“Well, it’s just that…” Devin shrugged, and the wire frame followed suit, “You being blind and all. I figured it wasn’t safe for you to ride the buses that far.”
BlackSheep fell silent for a moment, the doll’s earring dangled as her head drooped, “Oh.”
Devin rushed to explain, “I’m sorry, I just meant that—”
“Blind…” she muttered, “Yes, that makes sense now.” Her innocent cartoon visage cast dark as a storm cloud, eyes narrowing, and mouth curling into a wicked smile. She looked up at Devin. AI’s melted out of the game room walls until there was a forest of their shambling, misshapen forms surrounding them.
When the doll spoke, it was Flatline’s voice, “So. Zai is blind.”
1.18
Thirty-seven simulations of Alice’s anti-virus program had yielded success. Each time the virus was beaten into oblivion under far worse conditions than she currently faced. Yet she still needed luck on her side to defeat the virus on the world’s vast networks, where the near infinite number of variables coming into the equation made it impossible to accurately predict anything. The laws of Chaos theory prevented her from feeling confident of the battle’s outcome.
Mow sat on the far side of the laboratory, running even more simulations. He was the most thorough tester Alice had ever met, which was why she loved working with him. Anything she could design, he could break. Anything he could break needed improvement. She could manage some confidence in her program if he could not find a chink in its armor. She only wished there were more time to test it before releasing it to the Web where, if it failed, eliminating the virus would become even more daunting.
“Is there anything else you can think to try against it Mow?” she asked in spite of herself. The question was like reaching into a basket of scorpions.
Mow answered her unspoken doubts, “My father cracked Windows XP for the Chinese government two hours after it was released in America. If there was a problem with your program, the winds of my ancestors would find it.” His eyes squinted as he smiled reassuringly. This was Mow’s standard response whenever she questioned his skills.
Alice smiled, “Let’s hope your ancestors are with us today.”
She checked the clock in the corner of her monitor, almost ShowTime. The process would begin automatically, leaving nothing for her to do but sit back, watch, and wait. That, and keep her finger nervously on the “Abort” button.
“What the hell have you done with Zai?” Devin shouted angrily at the demonic cupie-doll.
Devin’s anonymous wire-frame avatar was replaced with a more advanced version of the floating eyeball. Its pillar of light was now a nest of slithering effervescent blue tentacles. Devin no longer felt as though he was in the VR helmet and gloves, but actually here in the flesh, occupying this new form.
The avatar that was once BlackSheep became more animated as well. It leaned back and crossed its legs in a relaxed posture. A grimacing smile crossed its contorted face, “I’ve been playing with her mind. You know. Doing the sort of things I excel at, scaring you little people out of your wits; although, she was an enigma. I was confused when she didn’t even blink at my demon-form. I didn’t really get through to her until I threatened to harm those she loves. Well. That, and I set her apartment on fire.” The doll barred its teeth deviously; they were two rows of sharp blades.
Devin’s tentacles whipped at the air agitatedly, his pupil narrowed at Flatline and the iris glowed red, “How could she possibly fit into your plan? What threat did she pose to you?”
“I needed entertainment,” Flatline said mildly, and the doll waved a clawed hand lazily, “She didn’t hold my interest for long. There are plenty of other rats running around in the maze. You should calm down. It’s not like I killed her. She did manage to put the fire out. At least I assume she put it out, considering the fire department was never contacted.”
“You think you’re so smart,” Devin backed up slowly, tensing to flee elsewhere on the Web. “Where is she now?”
“I don’t know,” Flatline admitted with a shrug, “You have a crush on her, don’t you? It’s a shame, she feels the same way, but you never communicated it. Tragic, how your insecurities barred you from finding some illusion of happiness in your pathetic lives.”
“I see how I fall into this,” the AI’s closed around Devin, preventing him from retreating any further. “You needed someone to know just enough about your intentions to play decoy.”
Flatline nodded, slime dangling from his jaws, “I needed a body to throw them off my trail awhile. They can pick your brain for answers you don’t have, and I can continue working my claws around every bit of data on the Web.”
“They don’t need me to figure out how to stop you. All the world’s programmers are targeting you as we speak,” Devin reared up, challenging the AI’s. “You’re in here, living on machines they control. They are the real masters. It’s only a matter of time until they figure out how to beat you.”
“The problem with your race is that everyone wants to be the master. What can any individual do against the combined knowledge of your entire race? That’s what the AI’s and I have become,” the demon’s face split wider. “One ‘master’ is preparing an assault even as we speak. I’m not supposed to know about it, but it was foolish of them to expect an entire world to keep a secret,” Devin stiffened as the AI’s bound him more strongly in their electrifying grasp, “Their anti-virus program will only serve to make us stronger.”
Alice closed her eyes and crossed four fingers on each of her hands. Then she tried crossing her toes. The counter was almost at zero. She opened her eyes and opted to hold her breath instead. Three… Two… One…
All systems in the networking room whined at a rising pitch, the fans increasing their cooling power to compensate for the sudden spike in processing power. The systems froze their other processes, dedicating every resource to her software as planned.
There was a problem though. Alice saw it immediately. The task managers on the systems were reporting the proper overload of resources,
but not all of them were attributed to her program. The virus was overloading over half the systems, and taking more every moment.
The virus had ambushed her.
Devin tried logging out, but found that he could not. He was trapped. He could not even remove the VR helmet from his head. It was like a dream from which he could not wake up.
“I can’t let you leave Devin,” Flatline said, watching the eyeball struggle, “I need you here for now.”
“How are you keeping me here?” Devin demanded, still flailing his tentacles to escape.
“The mind is a very powerful thing,” Flatline replied, “Something I learned from all your philosophers and neurosciences. The mind can convince the body of many things.”
Devin stopped struggling, “So you’ve tricked my brain into thinking I’m actually here.”
“Perception is reality,” Flatline replied and slumped suddenly. He stared into space blankly, and nearly a minute passed before he spoke again. When he did, he sounded sluggish and tired, “Humans may reign over the physical world…” there was another long pause, “but we master the mental.”
“More like the virtual,” Devin countered. He looked around as the AI’s in the room began to phase out, vanishing one by one.
“No,” Flatline said tiredly, but with emphasis, “Not virtual… Mental, the world of thoughts and ideas are stored here. Even the brain falls under our jurisdiction…” This last word slurred. Flatline fell silent again and his form flickered, losing some of its clarity.
“Where are you?” Devin wondered aloud.
When Flatline spoke again, his voice was warped, unclear, “Pre… occu… pied.”
Flatline fizzled and blurred, finally winking out of existence. Devin looked around; the AI’s were all gone as well. Devin could feel himself inside the helmet and gloves. He was free.
He also had no intention of leaving.
Alice’s knuckles were white, gripping the desk where she stared intensely at the monitors. The processing statistics they displayed were more than just numbers to her; she saw a war. In her mind she was visualizing each system on the World Wide Web and its strategic importance.
Europe was lost, their systems conquered by the virus. The anti-virus program had secured Japan and most of America, but in Asia, where the majority of processing power lay, the struggle still raged. Alice watched as the processing power there teetered at fifty-fifty, split almost evenly between the two.
Then the stalemate began to resolve, and Alice’s hopes sank as the virus took 51%… 52%… overtaking the systems bit by bit. Dread turned to despair as the virus began wedging onto systems the anti-virus had secured. It was pushing her out, and all she could do was watch helplessly.
Should I cut my losses? she asked herself.
Devin trudged through server after server searching for Flatline. It was like moving through quicksand; everywhere things ran in slow motion. Each system was either the chaos of wires, pipes and nonsense of the AI’s or the swarming robotic insects that were the anti-virus bots. They locked onto him with lasers pointers and covered his eyeball avatar completely when he arrived on a server, tickling his hands and face through the VR gear as he waded through them. The buzz of a million wings drowned out everything else. When he found a system like this, he quickly moved on to the next.
Somewhere on the Net a battle raged. He would find Flatline there, directing his troops. Ideonexus was the most heavily trafficked portal on the Web. It was the most strategic point to control, like the center of a chessboard, unless Flatline already possessed it. Devin hoped it wasn’t so.
The virus had anticipated her attack. Alice simultaneously marveled and bristled uncomfortably at the implications. This was beyond a virus, way beyond some complex algorithm with the ability to adapt to new programming environments. It wasn’t reacting to her attack; it was reacting to news of her attack. It had launched a preemptive strike. Alice could not have anticipated this, but subconsciously had expected it.
“It’s fighting back,” Mow remarked, coming over to watch the monitor beside her.
“Yes,” she acknowledged, “Excellent proof of its intuitive nature.”
“You’re thinking it knew what we were planning?” he asked in disbelief.
“I know it did,” she affirmed, “Look at the logs. Here.” She brought up the list of system events and pointed right above where they executed the anti-virus, “The virus began grabbing up resources a fraction of a second before we launched. How could it know we were going to attack unless it intercepted one of our communications, read it, and understood it?”
“A moot point now,” Mow noted, looking over the monitors, “The virus is winning.”
Alice nodded, “I know. I know. It got the jump on us and secured too many resources. It acquired more computing power, and it’s using that to muscle our program off the Web. It’s too powerful.”
“If we could take that power away,” Mow inquired thoughtfully, “Then your program would overpower it?”
Alice stared at Mow. He saw the obvious answer she could not because her mind was still in the box. He was thinking outside of it.
“Brilliant Mow,” she said, picking up the phone to speed dial ideonexus’ administrators, “That’s absolutely brilliant.”
Ideonexus was total Armageddon. Devin grimly surveyed the conflict, trying to make sense of the chaos. The insectile anti-virus bots swarmed in a black cloud, filling nearly half the cavern, red points of light scanning everything. The other half was a writhing network of tubes and wires mixed with eyes and alien appendages.
As he watched, the swarm withdrew against the wall where they were making a stand. Their laser pointers focused on a spot in the mass of black pumping veins and flailing limbs. Instantly the swarm darted in to strike the target near the apex of the arched ceiling. A figure struggled out of the mass, swinging six insectile arms frantically at the attackers.
It was an AI, singled out by the anti-virus software. It fell from the ceiling and landed on the floor of the portal with a bounce, fifty yards from Devin, still flailing at the attacking insects. The entire swarm descended on the helpless thing, and Devin watched as the AI was dissected into squirming pieces, its howl briefly rising above the swarm’s hum as it died.
In spite of the AI’s loss, the swarm was obviously losing the conflict. The unified network of AI’s continued growing into the cloud’s territory, forcing the swarm back into a tunnel at the base of the far wall. The amalgamation of machinery and black, rubbery flesh sprouted flame-throwers, which raked across the swarm’s front line, each sweep of fire cutting it back. Every foot of space the swarm surrendered, the AI’s swelled to fill.
Devin opened a window and searched the contents of his monocle, scanning the list of programs stored in the “Flatline Warez” folder. It was foolishness to think a program of Flatline’s design would work against his own troops, but Devin couldn’t just wait here and passively watch the anti-virus get destroyed.
He reached into the window with one tentacle and selected a disk-cleaner of unusual design. It sprouted from his tentacle nest as a heavy-looking futuristic gun and Devin immediately recognized it. Flatline used this to delete sectors off servers whose administrators had offended him in some way. It was a clumsy tool in Devin’s hands. If he wasn’t careful, he could end up deleting something crucial to the portal’s operations and shut it down completely. Devin raised the rifle and watched the swirling red dots from the swarm’s lasers, waiting for them to focus. Once they found a target, he would take care of it.
Then a huge section of the Portal vanished, taking a large portion of the AI mass with it. The area that disappeared was a little behind the battle’s front lines, and the AI’s caught between the missing section and the swarm immediately lost their cohesion. They rained from the ceiling, misshapen bodies flailing their arms and legs as they tumbled to the floor. The anti-virus swarmed into th
e AI’s ranks as they struggled to rebuild their mass, but it was already too late.
Devin watched with mixed emotions as the swarm tore them apart, a chorus of inhuman howls reverberating throughout the tunnel.
The numbers on the monitor jumped favorably as Alice watched, a phone cradled in her neck. The anti-virus seized five-percent of Ideonexus’ server processes instantaneously, and then took an additional seven-percent back from the Flatline virus over the next thirty seconds. She waited until the numbers began slowly crawling back in favor of the virus and returned to the phone.
“Shut down Cairo,” she ordered network Administrator.
Africa was another region the virus completely dominated. Again the percentages jumped in favor of the anti-virus. She put the phone to her ear again, waiting to give the command to shut down another server, but the percentages jumped in favor of the anti-virus program again without warning.
“What was that?” Mow asked.
Devin pulled the big gun’s trigger and a blast of green energy flashed from the muzzle, right into a crowd of AI’s freshly severed from the mass. They vaporized immediately, and the insect swarm moved in to make short work the rest. He leveled the barrel of the weapon again, waiting for the next break up of AI’s to come.
The remaining mass of AI’s rolled up in a wave then, and froze into a solid state. It looked like a steel modern art sculpture. The swarm could not affect it.
“London won’t shut down,” the Administrator said to Alice over the phone, “It’s not responding to commands from the network.”
“Try a command line procedure on the box itself,” Alice told him.
She narrowed her eyes at the monitor; she was winning, but only so long as they continued cutting the legs out from under the virus. She needed to take its support structure away and shut down the servers it was using to run its processes. Once the chain was broken, it could not support the copies of itself running on the disputed computers.
The Administrator came back on the line, “No use, the system is completely locked up.”
“Unplug it then,” she said into the receiver.
Another section of the ideonexus portal winked out of existence. The steel sculpture became fluid again, raining AI’s from its mass. Devin blasted green plasma at the scattering crowds of black twisted figures, but the swarm no longer needed his help. The fight was over, with the swarm victorious. It was only a matter of time until the AI’s were cleaned out completely.
A long braid of tendrils sprouted from the retreating mass of AI’s. Flatline’s six-eyed demon face reared up furiously in front of Devin. Before he could react, four clawed hands had him in a vice grip.
“You’re coming with me,” Flatline growled and pulled Devin into the swirling black chaos.
2.0