by Sam Ferguson
“Yeah, it would seem so,” Rhonda agreed.
“He congratulated me and told me that he would have much to tell me to prepare me to be his vessel to bring order to the world. He asked what the supplicants required. I assumed he meant all of you, so I told him that you had heard of the great wisdom of the oracle and had come to pay him reverence. He seemed pleased with that, so I asked what he would have us do. He told me that first he must deal with outlanders bringing disorder to the realm of the spirits, and then he would return.”
“Outlanders?” Chris asked.
“Isn’t that what they call people from off Prirodha in the game?” Mike asked hesitantly.
Brian finally spoke up. “That guy is IN the game,” he spoke forcefully, wanting to make sure his friends heard and believed him. “I’d know that voice anywhere. He’s this creepy NPC that has taken over the assassins’ guild. I think he’s the one who signed the note we found on the professor’s dead avatar.” He pressed on, ignoring the looks on his friends’ faces, ranging from confused to doubtful. “He has sent me on a bunch of off-script quests that have been creating glitches in the game. Everywhere he shows up, a save point goes down, and most of the usual NPCs mysteriously despawn—or are murdered. Right before she died last, Meredith made it sound like the assassin guild quests were a primary focus of hers.”
Brian exhaled loudly and started to rub his shoulders. This is the longest day ever, he thought to himself. He walked to the platform and sat on the edge of it, still rubbing his neck and trying to make sense of it all as his friends considered what he had said.
Finally, Mike spoke up. “Chris, what do you think? You’re the one who nearly got kicked out of the program for spending so much time taking side gigs programming bridge software. Could the Terramyr Online software have been corrupted by whatever runs… this?” He nodded his head in the direction of the elliptical object.
“Wow,” Chris held his hands up, “that’s pretty far out of my comfort zone to say. I mean, fiddling around in my spare time so that two source codes can talk to each other is one thing, but…” he trailed off, looking from the pillars to the platform to the object, “but saying whether some super crazy, highly advanced, hologram-emitting alien CPU could have inserted a psychopathic AI entity into an elaborately programmed virtual world… yeah, probably.” Chris shrugged in a casual way and nodded his head.
“That was way out of my comfort zone!” Rhonda slapped Chris gently on the arm. “Alien AI? What are you even talking about?”
“I’m sorry,” he replied with mock defensiveness. “Is that not what all of us took away from what we just saw? Unless you want to attribute the vision we just had to divine magic and call that thing the home of the oracle, I’m pretty sure that alien technology is the best conclusion.”
“Right, and it wound up here in a lava tube at the center of an ancient religious tradition how?” Brian challenged.
Chris was quick with an answer. “That thing fell, hit the volcano, triggered an eruption, got swept into this tunnel in a lava flow, and rooted itself down. When an ancient indigenous explorer became curious, it latched onto the language and culture presented to it and created a persona for itself as the great oracle.”
“Chemmew am femllenuafulu!” The words exploded over Augustin’s teeth in an exasperated murmur. The unexpected reaction jolted all of them. He laughed mirthlessly and shook his head as he walked over to where Brian was sitting and joined him on the platform. “First the professor explores the outrageous theory that Greeks are the ones who are the seed of our ancient people, and now you are telling me that my religion has come from aliens?”
“Not necessarily,” Mike responded thoughtfully, wagging his finger. “I am—surprisingly, even to myself—kind of onboard with the alien computer theory. BUT,” he added quickly as Augustin began with another exasperated flurry of words in his native tongue, “who is to say that the idea of an oracle, or any of the other cultural and religious trappings that came with it, originated with the computer? What if it was responding to its environment?”
Rhonda’s eyes lit up with understanding. “I think I see where you’re going! The same way life finds a way to adapt in unique ways to the most unlikely of environments. A deep, dark cave,” she swept her arms around her, “will contain a variety of flora that you wouldn’t find anywhere else. Slime molds and fungi that can grow without any light. Psychrotrophic organisms that can tolerate extreme cold temperatures are found in many places on earth. Numberless species of plants have evolved physical features that complement the habits and characteristics of creatures that aid in their reproduction.”
“Right,” Mike was nodding his head excitedly. “Let me posit a scenario. A local villager is curious about the cave. He enters and finds an object,” Mike pointed to the silver computer console. “He is startled, impressed. He brings others. They too are impressed, and religious significance is assigned to the object and the location. They create a Gijatuwe here, a ceremonial site to honor the spirits,” Mike pointed to the platform as he approached it. He beckoned to Augustin and Brian to follow him as he ran his hands along the carvings that encircled the base all around. They were very much like the carvings Brian had found with the Machi.
Mike continued, “A religion that already believes strongly in the concept of cosmic and social order, the importance of ritual, and a connection to the world of the spirits incorporates this place and this object into its rituals of worship. Sooner or later, the artificial intelligence has analyzed DNA, language, dress, and the content of their prayers and ceremonies. The most efficient way to interface with an environment like that could very well be to represent itself through the persona of an oracle.”
“Augustin, what was the meaning of that invocation you and Meredith uncovered with that cipher the computer program synthesized?” Brian asked, wondering whether there was any merit to Chris’s idea.
“It was this, actually.” Augustin had been lingering over a particular set of carvings on the base of the platform that faced the tunnel entrance. He translated it now for everyone’s benefit.
Oh, may it look upon this world with the wisdom of its eye
Give order and structure to the chaos it finds
Oh, may it remove from this world the seeds of chaos
Give peace and security through regulation.”
Augustin was slow to look away from the carvings. “This is the same set of symbols that appeared on the console when it activated. Why did it respond to me?”
“You are the only one of us who has the same blood as those who were here centuries ago. The professor could have activated it too, come to think of it,” Chris suggested.
“Yeah, and probably did.” Rhonda came to sit down on the edge of the platform.
“So, does that mean it has a specific program it runs for someone it recognizes as belonging to the ancestors of the mapuche, DNA recognition software or something, but would develop a different program for a different group? Since it seems to have found the game world,” Mike pointed to the filaments connected to each of the computers, “it has created a compatible program for it too?”
“Yeah, that would make sense, like it came with an embedded bridge code that allows it to adapt in various environments and create a way to ‘talk’ to whatever system it encounters. The big question is, regardless of what trappings it evolves to interact with its environment, like the oracle dude, or the master assassin in the game, what is its base function?” Chris tapped the back of his right hand into his left palm as he spoke. Brian could tell he was running several ideas through his mind.
“What do you mean?” Augustin asked.
“One of the reasons I had so many contracts for my work is because I was good at including a few little lines of code that always ensured the discrete programs that were being told to talk to each other would revert to their base functions if anything weird ever happened,” Chris said, walking to the far side of the console. “I’m not saying tha
t I have the sophistication of an advanced race of alien life forms, but it is a good principle of programming. I’m willing to bet this thing would be able to at least tell us what its primary function is.”
“Why would that matter to us? I mean, interesting, sure. But we have colleagues, friends, who are being harmed by what is happening right now. Why do we care what this thing’s primary function is?” Brian was feeling pulled in two different directions. Every piece of him that had ever wanted to explore, and discover—the part of him that had driven him to become an archaeologist—was excited about finding answers. But the part of him that had spent the last day in an emotional olive press just wanted to save his friends and go home.
“If we know what it is meant to do, there may be a way to reason with it,” Chris said simply as he put his hand on the surface of the console the same way Augustin had when the symbols had appeared. “What purpose do you serve?” he asked. There was no response, but Chris did not seem disappointed. He calmly stood there with his hand resting on the silvery surface. “My purpose is to uncover information about those who came before. I look under the earth and read the signs that have been left. My purpose is to improve life by learning what came before.” He waited silently for another minute before repeating the question. “What purpose do you serve?”
Brian was just beginning to get agitated when a line of script populated on the surface of the console in glowing blue letters. He stood on the platform to get a better view and read the message upside down.
Create order from disorder.
“Whoa!” Chris half breathed, half laughed excitedly, withdrawing his hand. “I just talked to an alien supercomputer!” He performed a couple of skip hops from side to side as he clutched at his hair.
“And I say you quit while you’re ahead on that front,” Rhonda said firmly, stepping between him and the console.
“That’s enough for us to work with. I don’t want to give this thing any more information than it already has about us. We don’t even know if it comes with a moral code, or whether that moral code is one we’d like to see it execute.”
“Rhonda, it wants things to be orderly,” Chris was still on a high and was looking for a smooth way to step around Rhonda to get back at the alien object. He seemed eager for more time with it.
“And there are some very unpleasant ways to get order,” she insisted, holding her arms out as though guarding someone on the basketball court, trying to catch Chris’s attention and get him to back off. “Didn’t you hear what Augustin said? The oracle asked whether Augustin had defeated the old priest. He didn’t look upset or sad about it either. It all sounds very ‘king of the wood’ to me.” Finally getting Chris to back off as his initial excitement faded, Rhonda lowered her arms and turned to look at the others.
“What do you mean by that? King of the wood?” Augustin asked.
Mike jumped in with an explanation, “There is a place in Italy where a sacred grove of trees and a sanctuary of Diana Nemorensis was presided over in ancient times by a priest who acceded to the position by killing his predecessor. It was said that desperate men, runaway slaves for example, would flee to the grove and initiate combat with the priest in the hope of gaining the sanctuary that the priesthood would provide. Even the ancient Romans found it barbaric—Strabo called it ‘Scythian’—but they respected it.”
“I agree. That perfectly fits the way this AI is interfacing with the game. He sent Barry after me on a contract, and he has told me that I may become his champion if I prove myself strong enough.” Brian was very creeped out by the implications.
“I guess that’s one way to establish order,” Augustin began slowly. “Root out the weak and place the strongest in charge of disseminating the will of the gods.”
“But it’s terrible news for our chances of shutting it down or at least getting it out of the game world without causing more damage to the program,” Mike sounded truly worried. “The function of establishing order is completely incompatible with the function of an online gaming world. Games like Terramyr Online do well because people are looking for a way to escape from the social demands, from the orderliness, of real life. It’s a way to indulge your id without actually breaking any rules. Take whatever you want, but sleep well at night knowing that your pickpocketing and burgling didn’t affect real people.” He pointed to himself. “Betray, coerce, assassinate, but keep a squeaky-clean conscience.” He pointed to Brian. “Murder hundreds of innocent sharks to prove yourself to a daring but beautiful ship’s captain,” here he pointed to Augustin, who blushed instantaneously, “but know that species endangerment isn’t going to weigh on your shoulders.
“What about Rhonda?” Augustin asked, eager to move the spotlight off of him.
“Well, and then there are weirdos like Rhonda who just act like themselves wherever they go.” Mike threw his hands up in the air and let them fall back to his thighs loudly. “My point is, if the AI thinks it needs to create order out of disorder, and it’s willing to kill and destroy to get it done, I don’t see how it’s going to leave the computer program that has Meredith and the prof locked in some kind of limbo without first reducing it to a smoking husk. And at that point…” he trailed off, looking at the professor.
“There might not be anything of them left,” Chris finished the thought in a solemn, quiet voice.
13
Clues
Brian sat at the end of the line. It had been two hours, and they still hadn’t come up with a plan to remove the equipment from Meredith and Professor Rojas safely. Now they were all lined up with their backs against the wall with the entrance tunnel, robotically eating and drinking some of their MRE rations, each staring ahead into space, mulling the problem over. The few conclusions they had finally arrived at were these:
1. Before death, Barry had most likely been in a similar state to the professor and Meredith; mind still tied to the game but stuck in a state of limbo where he was not sent to respawn or exit. 2. The difficulty must have originated with the loss of the save point to which he would otherwise have been returned. 3. Barry probably died, ultimately, of dehydration, and if they couldn’t resolve the problem soon enough, the professor and Meredith were next.
If I hadn’t moved my save point to the Drunk Imp the night Barry came for me, I could have been the one in his shoes with only a single step to the wrong side during that fight, Brian thought to himself. The idea made his stomach churn. He would like to imagine that someone would have come looking for him sooner than for Barry, since he didn’t have a reputation for keeping to himself as a go-to choice, but there was no guarantee they would have found a solution in time to save him. Right now, the prospects didn’t look so good for the friends who were still trapped.
Brian was pretty sure they were all thinking the same sort of thing he was. There was an alien AI in their game, and it hadn’t just messed with the code. It had people, real people, stuck in the game until they died of dehydration or starvation.
“The professor is still alive,” Mike said after a bit. “And Meredith too. They’re depending on us to help them out of here.”
“And how do we do that?” Rhonda asked.
“Can we kill it?” Augustin asked. “Maybe if we kill it while in the game, it will leave us alone.”
Brian nodded. It was worth a try. “We’ll need to be careful,” he said. “If any of us die...”
“It all depends on using an active save point,” Mike said. “Do you think the save points were going down by accident, as sort of unintentional collateral damage from the glitches the AI is causing?”
“I don’t think so,” Brian answered thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, the very first encounter I had with it was in the assassin guild hall in Fezhik. It asked me whether I came from the save point. Another time, it asked whether I got my power from the save point. At the time I thought it was just weird scripting, but now that I know it is a thinking, reasoning intelligence, I’m sure it knows that the save point is
something important.”
“Didn’t the oracle tell you it needed to deal with some outlanders?” Rhonda asked Augustin.
“Yes, yes you’re right,” Augustin sat up straighter. “We must be the outlanders. We certainly behave differently from the other inhabitants of the game. We would seem… disorderly by comparison. It would make sense that it would want to restrict our movements or try to keep us away.”
“So maybe it isn’t even aware it’s causing harm?” Rhonda sounded hopeful.
“Oh no. It might not realize the type of harm it’s causing, but it knows it’s causing harm,” Brian’s voice was hard. “It’s taken out its own followers because they didn’t fit its idea of orderliness. It sent Barry to kill me. It definitely knows it’s doing harm.”
“I don’t see why it would target us so directly,” Chris sounded bothered. “I mean, sure, we do talk a little differently, and some of us hop around like idiots wherever we go,” he thumbed at Mike without turning around to see his reaction, “but I don’t see that we behave so much differently from the NPCs. Some of them are downright spooky with their life-like interactive functions. One of the orc commanders pulled me aside for a full interview about my honor before I took off for Bohotes. It seemed like a real conversation.”
“Yeah, and what about the guys in the Pink Quill and the way they play with Little Man?” Rhonda agreed.
“Or that wandering trader? He was delightful,” Augustin smiled as he remembered the interaction.
“And the NPCs who have joined our house,” Mike said knowingly. The others all nodded emphatically or murmured their agreement. Brian hadn’t spent much time at House Bob, so he wouldn’t know, but the others seemed to have taken note of some more than usually life-like behaviors.