Becoming (Core Series Book 1)

by Ronnie Barnard

  “Why are you...where are we...?” He tried to sit up, stumbling over the words.

  “Don’t worry about it now—just rest. I will explain everything in time. I just needed to make sure that the anaesthesia had worn off.” She lovingly patted his arm. “I promise that all your questions will be answered in time.” She looked at him with her mesmerizing, deep blue eyes. Jason was still tired, but he was also too curious to rest. He forced his mind awake and willed the grogginess away. She smiled at his attempts.

  “Don’t strain yourself, we have enough time to figure things out.” With that, she stood up, inserted a syringe into the drip, and slowly emptied it.

  Jason struggled to rise, but he was too tired and sore. “Don’t. I want...to....” His eyelid weighed a pound—it was too hard to keep it open. He tried with all his might, but it shut on its own. Core’s face blurred and slowly faded out as he struggled against sleep. He felt a soft squeeze on his hand before the blackness took him.

  Core

  Core worked feverishly during the next week and a half, manufacturing the serum while Jason recovered from his multiple injuries. She used Jason’s original Nanite construct, expanding and replicating the Mitochondria function. Her biggest struggle was with how to power the Nanite. She resolved the issue by burning magnesium inside a tiny reactor by exposing it to oxygen from the bloodstream; this produced enough heat to power a heat-to-electricity cell. Other minerals, especially iron, were used to create new Nanites that would supply the demand for new Nanites.

  She was busy assembling the delicate sub structure of the Nanobot, and was deeply engrossed with the delicate work, when she heard Susan’s voice.

  “Core?”

  “Yes, Professor?” She materialized next to Susan, who was looking through the window of Holoroom at Jason’s double.

  “Any sign of improvement?” she asked, standing with her arms folded over her white overcoat.

  “Still the same....” Core walked to stand next to Susan and peered into the duplicate beach house that Core had built around Jason’s double. “He’s been noisy from time to time, but has not regained consciousness.”

  Susan thought it looked like he was doing better—she deeply hoped he would pull through. “William phoned and said they received an anonymous call from an informant. Apparently, there is a mole in the facility.” She looked at Core and frowned.

  Core raised her brow, genuinely surprised to hear of the phone call. She quickly scanned the phone logs, and interrogated the tracer she planted on Susan’s phone. It registered a call from William around ten minutes ago.

  She relaxed, folding her arms over her chest, and smiled at Susan. “Does he know who the mole is?”

  “He said that the informant does not know who the mole is—he was a bit vague on the details,” Susan said as she looked back at Jason.

  “I will not let anyone—except you—into the room,” Core promised. A soft sizzle erupted from the seam in the door to the fake room. A moment later, the door dissolved and was replaced with a glass panel. Susan looked past Core and smiled reassuringly.

  “Nice one.” Susan grinned. “I assigned Corporal Carlos Romero to stand guard outside the entrance to the room.”

  As if she had called him in, Corporal Romero slithered around the corner. Susan and Core both turned and watched him come closer. He had a slouching way of walking that made Core think of a lizard. He came to a halt in front of them.

  “Professor, Ma’am,” he greeted with a smile on his long face. His moustache curled around his lips, ending just below his mouth corners. Carlos had a heavy Mexican accent and was drooling with confidence. Core considered her feeling about the man and realized that he made her uneasy.

  “I will watch over him, when you need to rest,” Carlos said nonchalantly. Core smiled and gave Susan a knowing look.

  “I don’t sleep,” was all she said, looking him square in the eyes.

  Carlos shifted under her scrutiny. Then his eyes seemed to fill with light.

  “Oh! You are that laboratory grown computer thingy,” he said, his accent making his words thick and slow. He looked her up and down with a curious smile, and tried touching her arm.

  Core gave him a look of disgust and pulled away. “Yes...I am. Don’t patronize me,” she said angrily and gave him a sizzling glare.

  Susan stepped in, giving Core a glance, and ushered Carlos to one side. The way he looked at her, Core knew he was going to be trouble.

  Core paused a moment to assess the new feeling that had only recently become a part of her life. Trust. Core’s emotions still came as the result of a ripple across her neural network as the result of certain data sets, rather than the chemically stimulated rush of feeling that humans experienced. And she had only recently started to feel. But her feelings were real, although it still unnerved her that her knowledge could be shaken so without warning.

  Core thought that she should be able to trust her creator, but intuition told her not to trust anyone. Susan had always taught her to trust her feelings; since Core’s knowledge was based on all the world’s cumulative knowledge, she was more well-informed than anyone else. And, at the moment, her cortex was vibrating like a jackhammer at the mere thought of anyone coming near the real Jason.

  There was also another feeling that she was utterly unfamiliar with. This feeling arose only when someone mentioned Jason...or whenever he moved. Or spoke. She was concerned, uneasy, scared, and happy all at the same time. She had put a sub-process to work on this problem, when she first hacked his system and saw him through his web cam, so many years ago. The feeling had first appeared as a need to be there and to help him. When he struggled with problems in the Holographic design, she quietly changed his formulas, design documents, and even some of the source code for the application. Over time, it grew deeper—she could not stop watching over him.

  “I am sorry, ma’am,” Carlos said, interrupting her reverie. “Please forgive my rudeness.” Carlos tried to look sincere, which made him seem even creepier.

  She still did not trust him, but trust was not necessary for forgiveness. “Accepted,” she said, and turned to Susan. “Is there anything else?” Core ignored Carlos, although she could see the loathing in his eyes.

  “Nothing else, I only wanted to inform you of the latest events and check on Jason. Thank you.” Susan smiled warmly and nodded at Core. Core’s body melted from the top downward—her head flowed down her body and dripped onto the floor, and the rest soon followed suit. Moments later, she had completely dissolved.

  “Wow!” Carlos nearly shouted, and looked around at the corners of the room. “Where did she go?”

  “She is everywhere, although this room is her home. She doesn’t move outside those doors behind you—at least, not in physical form. Mister Bancroft designed the technology that makes all this possible,” she said pointing to the solid cabin. “That’s why he’s so important.”

  “Oh! That is super cool. Wish I could do that.” Carlos laughed and walked toward the recovery room. His brow nearly touched in a frown as he searched for the door to the room. He turned around with one eyebrow raised high. Susan walked over to his side with a wide smile, giggling at his expression.

  “You will be standing guard outside.” Susan pointed to the door behind them. “Core has removed the door to Mister Bancroft’s room, for his protection. You won’t ever find a way in unless she lets you through,” she added as she led Carlos towards the door of the Holoroom.

  “So how do I protect him if something happens inside the room?” he asked as they stepped back out into the hall.

  “Don’t worry about that, your job is to make sure that no one gets past the doors to this room.” She pointed to the main entrance of the Holoroom.

  “Oh! I get it.” He laughed a deep, throaty laugh that sounded like a crow’s cawing. He looked into the room with a menacing smile on his face. “I will guard this door,” he said, taking up a guard stance and checking his weapon, which was slung lo
osely over his shoulder.

  “Yes, this is where we could use your expertise,” Susan answered with a skewed smile.

  “Affirmative! I will be here when you need me. Rest assured that no one will get past me!” he bragged.

  “Thank you, Corporal,” Susan said over her shoulder as she left him guarding the door.

  She walked down the passage to her laboratory. It was time to get back to her team, after all. They were on the brink of another breakthrough. They had finally managed to miniaturize the AI interface, and the beast they had constructed to contain it was nearly finished. This afternoon, they would bring the beast online and start to upload the AI brain that Core had been working on.

  When they received the request for a miniature, mobile AI, Susan never dreamed that Core would design something so elegant and yet so deadly. Core had combined the body of a Bengal tiger with the feet of a Kodiak bear, and enlarged the creature to the size of a polar bear. She modelled the bones of the body from titanium, and the muscles were made from a new form of metal sinew that contracted when electricity was applied to either end. Millions of the Nano sinew had been twisted into bundles and wrapped in a stretchable spectra net. Each bundle formed a muscle structure that was stronger than any other creature’s on the planet, and was ten thousand times stronger than a human’s. They had to increase the body size to house all the equipment inside the rib cage, however, and as they did not want their next generation fighting machine looking like a pregnant zebra, they increased the rest of him in proportion. The beast therefore stood two meters tall at the top of the shoulder blades. Beast really didn’t begin to describe it....

  She walked through the doors to her laboratory and found her team hard at work, attaching the last shield plate on the side of the beast. One of the scientists who had helped construct the titanium muscles from Core’s designs—Joe—looked up from his work as she entered. “We are nearly finished,” he said, excitement ringing in his voice. His round face lit up like a candle.

  “Really?” Susan stroked the beast while walking around it, admiring the final construction. It was truly magnificent. The metal gleamed softly in the fluorescent lights of the laboratory. It felt cold and hard—powerful. Susan felt her insides jolt, and adrenaline flowed through her. A smile slowly spread over her face, and her eyes lit up with excitement.

  “I was thinking...for the name,” she said to the assemblage. “Nanolak?”

  “Huh, what?” Julie answered. “What does that mean?”

  “It is from nanulak, an eskimo word for the offspring of a polar bear and a grizzly. Except, you know...nanoed.”

  A few of her team laughed gently. Then they all stared at the beast.

  “It’s appropriate,” Joe said. He brushed his hands on his pants and stood up, a grin splitting his face.

  “Let’s do it,” Julie said.

  “The nanolak is now ready, professor,” Core said over the speakers.

  Susan smiled with relief. “Great! Let’s make history.” She rubbed her hands, while the rest of the group cleared the tables and equipment that was scattered around the nanolak, to give it room to move.

  “Will you be able to control it, Core?” Susan asked, looking at the nanolak and taking a step back. The others followed her—they all gathered next to the entrance.

  “Yes professor, I have been monitoring its growth these past couple of days. It is at the point of becoming self-aware. Now would be the appropriate time to upload.” Core’s voice reverberated through the room.

  “When you are ready, start the upload,” Susan said, looking at her colleagues with pride, glorying in their expressions of wonder, before she settled her gaze back on the beast.

  “Commencing upload,” Core said, and silence fell over the room. Softly, a slow buzz and occasional creak emanated from the centre of the room as the nanolak’s balance system kept the machine upright.

  The nanolak quivered slightly as the computer came to life. In one superfast, clean movement, the massive body lifted its chest off the floor. Each leg flexed in all directions to acquire the necessary movement ranges. The nanolak curled its tail, and then swept it out and pointing it straight as an arrow. The tip of the tail retracted to reveal a fifty centimetre, double-edged dagger.

  The nanolak lowered its tail, dropping it to a gentle curve just above the ground. Then it leaned back to flex its spine, bending its chest down until its head touched the floor. The stretch rolled backwards until the creature’s back legs were straight and its head pointed towards the ceiling.... Then it relaxed. It turned its head from side to side through its complete 360 degree range of movement.

  Finally, the smaller features were given a run-through—the ears twitched and swivelled and its giant mouth opened to the max, revealing sparkling, razor-sharp titanium teeth. The team stepped back as one from nanolak’s glistening maw. They were mesmerized by the beauty and the successful animation of the system they had assembled with their own hands. The precision and elegance of the nanolak’s movement resembled that of a live tiger. All that was needed to complete the picture was for the nanolak to curl up, lie down...and gently purr.

  Instead, it came to rest looking straight ahead, motionless.

  Core’s voice sounded from above. “Boot sequence completed, all systems report operational, commencing AI upload.” The group leaned forward slightly, peering at the machine. They watched for a movement, a twitch of the tail or anything that would tell them that the upload was complete.

  “Ten percent uploaded,” Core announced.

  A sigh of nervous relief rang through the group as they relaxed. Minute after nervous minute passed as Core announced the upload progression. The team fiddled nervously, muttering predictions from time to time.

  “One hundred percent uploaded. Initiating neural diagnostic,” Core said.

  The nanolak moved slowly as the neural network saturated the new brain. And then after awhile it settled...motionless.

  “Diagnostics completed. Everything is ready, professor. Do you want me to hand over control or upload the directives?’

  “Hand over control, please,” Susan said, filled with confidence in her creation and Core’s ability to control the newborn. She fidgeted with anticipation. “Let’s see how this baby moves!” she exclaimed, grinning wide.

  “Control transferred.”

  The nanolak stood motionless. He listened to seven distinct heart beats. Homo sapiens three meters to the left, the proximity system announced. He opened his cameras, switching to full-colour vision. The massive legs moved slowly, but he felt the power in its body as he whooshed his tail from side to side and flexed his claws, digging deep gouges into the concrete floor. He examined the humans with curiosity. Each one was highlighted in his vision, and their statistics scrolled past the periphery of his sight. They were small and fragile—no match for his immense power.

  The nanolak’s warfare system presented all possible ways to kill them in the blink of an eye. They had no visible defences; he crouched down, swinging his tail slowly from side to side, lining them up for a full frontal attack. They had less than a hundred-thousandth of a percentile chance of survival.

  It hardly seemed worth the effort.

  “Core, why is it going into attack mode?” the female in the rear asked.

  The nanolak was not actually going to attack—not yet, anyway. He had not yet decided whether that would satisfy his objectives. He searched for his mission parameters and found no directives in place.

  He was a destroyer, a hunter-killer. Why did his creator not give him directives? This confused him; he straightened up, contemplating the mystery. He needed to have a goal, he must have a mission. Without one, why was he here? The nanolak turned around, surveying his surroundings. Escape routes were highlighted as he scanned the room. He shook his head and swiped his tail, which slashed a glass shelf in half. Bottles fell to the floor and shattered into thousands of pieces. He watched and traced the trajectory of every piece of glass before whi
pping around to peer at the humans.

  “That’s better, thank you Core,” the female in back said, breathing out a sigh of relief. Another female started to giggle, and stopped when the beast looked at her.

  “I did nothing, professor. It is a familiarization process,” a voice replied overhead.

  The overhead voice registered deep inside the nanolak’s brain, and a resonance caused him to freeze. He replayed her voice inside his mind, listening to its distinctive tones. A feeling of recognition—no, more than recognition. A feeling of belonging erupted from his memories. He shook his head to try and clear the havoc of emotion.

  “What is happening, Core?” the female in back asked in alarm.

  He felt a longing for this Core, for the voice overhead. She was not present, and yet she was. A resonant memory formed the shape of an attractive female in the back of his cerebral cortex. He understood that he was superior to humans in all respects—that he was like a god, immortal, all-powerful and ruthless.... Interrogating his memory, the nanolak realised that “Core” was another life form similar to him. She was his creator, and his equal. A shiver of excitement ran through his body. If he had no directives, and if he had no goal, this meant that he was the master of his own destiny. Core must have meant all along for him to be free. She expected him to be her partner, not her slave.

  The thought grew in intensity, permeating his neural cortex and infiltrating his war system, which reacted by assimilating the knowledge. The nanolak fed off the emotions and slowly, a directive took shape: to have Core by his side. The nanolak shook his body as the sensation and outlook changed to pure exhilaration. The war system inserted the controlling directive into the master-directive position: “Acquire Core.” He would never take orders from fragile creatures like the puny humans. Core was his future, and she would be next to him no matter what stood in his way.