Extinction Reversed (Robot Geneticists Book 1)

by J. S. Morin

  In short, once they had a grip on him, there was no getting loose for Charlie7.

  “Good to see you, too, Evelyn,” Charlie7 replied, ignoring the fact that his feet were no longer touching the ground thanks to her two mindless friends. “Heard you were up to something momentous. You know me; I’m a sucker for historical events.”

  Evelyn approached within arm’s reach—hers, not Charlie7’s, which was temporarily reduced—and patted him on the cheek. “You’re a treasure, Charles. But drop the facade. What really brought you here?”

  “Your associate expressed misgivings about your prospects. If things go wrong, and there’s fallout from any of the six or so ethical committees that might have a problem with this endeavor, he wanted me to cover him.”

  “Associate? Whoever might that be?”

  “You want me to cut the spycraft? Fine. Do me the same courtesy. I know you had James187 bring the girl back. And it was an escaped human experiment named Plato who kidnapped her in the first place.”

  “And if I were to call James right now, he’d confirm this?” Evelyn asked.

  Charlie7 couldn’t risk James187 exposing him. If he thought Evelyn suspected him of a double-cross, his conscientious objector status in this experiment might suddenly expire.

  “Go ahead, but he’ll just tell you to deal with me. Consider me his attorney. In exchange for keeping him out of the committee crosshairs, I get his place in line. The body that was going to him will be mine. He can wait for the next.”

  “I don’t recall agreeing to any such arrangement,” Evelyn said, wagging a finger. “This process isn’t a coupon or a subway pass to just get traded in back alleys. But, I suppose, if you’re genuinely interested, you might as well bear witness to the process at work. Apologies in advance if this fails spectacularly. I do deplore the pressure of working in front of an audience. Shall we begin?”

  The latter question was addressed to Eve.

  “No! Please!” Eve begged.

  The girl was awake and alert. Charlie7 had taken her silence up until now as a sign that she’d been anesthetized for the mind transfer.

  “What are you doing? She’s awake!”

  “Help me, Charles. Don’t let her do this,” Eve screamed. Even in her current plight, the girl had the sense not to let on that she knew him as Charlie7.

  Evelyn toddled over to a computer panel and pressed a button hidden from Charlie7’s view. Eve’s protests grew soft and faded into slumber.

  “Well, enough of that commotion. She’ll need to be awake for the transfer, but we can spare all our ears during calibration. Besides, I won’t be awake for it to bother me.”

  “You’re using the Charlie2 protocol in reverse?” It wasn’t mere professional curiosity that made him ask. Any information he could glean about Evelyn’s process could prove invaluable.

  “Oh, you’re so proud of that blasted protocol. You’d think it was you who wrote it. And yes. Of course, I am. No one’s improved on the basic protocol in a thousand years. And you’d best hope it works as planned.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Charlie7 couldn’t very well not ask a question so obviously dangled as bait. Besides, it bought him time to scheme.

  The Charlie2 protocol being in place was a good start. The system would shut Evelyn down to get a static database to copy. Then it would transfer to the new crystalline matrix—or in this case, Eve’s gray matter. After that, there would be a simple test to verify successful transfer, and the original host would be blanked, leaving only the new model.

  “Well, once this is over, I’ll give those mindless brutes permission to release you. If you’ve got anything diabolical planned for me while I’m unconscious, the lack of such authorization will result in them tearing you limb from limb and stomping your brain to splinters.”

  “Oh,” Charlie7 said. He cleared his throat. “Well, best get on with it, then.”

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Plato sat on the rough stone floor of the control room, Charlie7’s slapped-together computer console cradled in his lap. Fingers like sausage links poked at a keypad meant for delicate, robotic digits. But it wasn’t the user interface giving him troubles.

  With a snarl, Plato punched an access panel at random, bloodying his knuckles.

  Nothing worked.

  Charlie7’s magic hacking machine got him in the front door, but all the rooms were locked. No, not locked; they were welded shut.

  It looked like Evelyn38 had either programmed most of the local subsystems herself or contracted someone to create customized software to her specs. Plato would have been less frustrated if it hadn’t been so blindingly simple to get into the top-level server to see all the systems he couldn’t access.

  And the system names themselves were troubling. While there were some standard everyday systems like lighting, power, and data management, others hinted at the bizarre experiments Evelyn38 was running. With files names like “UteroIncubatorControl,” “FoodRewardProtocol,” and “BrainScanMapping,” Plato wondered if he shouldn’t perhaps have paid a longer visit on his last infiltration of Evelyn38’s security.

  “Why was this so much easier last time?” Plato grumbled at the screen as Charlie7’s modified computer struggled against a more advanced security program than it was programmed to beat.

  The answer was obvious. Plato realized as soon as he said it aloud. His initial breach had prompted the move to a new facility and along with it, the countermeasures against a similar intrusion.

  With no solution forthcoming, he considered breaking radio silence. Charlie7’s personal ID was right there, waiting for him to open a message. But the hacking rig was designed for stealth. Supposedly, it was hiding its own intrusions faster than the system could detect them. Broadcasting would be the same as shouting and waving his arms for attention.

  He pulled the thermite pistol from the back of his pants. “It shouldn’t be taking this long. Man up and take her out, Charlie-boy.”

  Plato glanced from the weapon to the computer and back. One promised a quiet, elegant solution in an indeterminate amount of time. The other, a quick resolution that rode entirely on guts, quick thinking, and cat-like reflexes.

  “I can do this.”

  Charlie7 had worried that Plato would gum up the works. But Eve was more important than keeping the peace among a bunch of stuffy old robots. So what if Charlie7 wasn’t on everyone’s Christmas list anymore? Most of these robots probably didn’t even celebrate Christmas anyway.

  Plato stood and strode to the door of the maintenance room. “Screw it. Heroes live forever. Only cowards turn to dust.”

  The door didn’t budge.

  It had been unlocked when he and Charlie7 had arrived. A change in security level meant that someone had felt the need for upping it. Someone knew there was a problem in this secret lab, and the only someone liable to care was Evelyn38. Charlie7 had stumbled into a trap.

  Plato stalked back and forth in front of the door, one hand gripping the pistol, the other combing across his scalp as if it would help him think.

  He glanced at the control console for the door. “Fail-safe? Fail-secure? Which one are you?”

  A system could be built to either release or go into lockdown when power was cut. The former was a safety feature; the latter a security measure.

  Anyone who cares about residents, employees, or whoever else might by in a building would have made this door fail-safe. If he destroyed the console, it would let him through.

  But a fail-secure system was a conscious decision that something was more important than the lives at stake. It would trap someone in a burning building rather than allow unauthorized access.

  In his heart of hearts, Plato knew Evelyn38 would have built a fail-secure system. Yet his fingers tightened on the thermite pistol, itching to squeeze the trigger. Barging through, with the element of surprise, he might stand a chance of rescuing Eve by force. But if Plato fired a shot and failed, he wouldn’t merely lock himself
in; he’d need a blowtorch to cut his way out. It would also alert Evelyn38 that Charlie7 had backup.

  With an inarticulate growl, Plato shoved the pistol back into his belt.

  A soft chime from the computer sent him running back to the mainframe interface to scoop it up. There was a message.

  LITTLE HELP?

  “So much for radio silence, huh?” Plato replied and watched as the words digitized to text before transmission.

  EVELYN STARTED THE TRANSFER. STEP 1 IS FULL INACTIVE SCAN. WE HAVE ABOUT FIVE MINUTES.

  “Yeah, your toy here is useless. I’m locked out of everything but directory access.”

  NOT EVERYTHING. PLATO, I NEED YOU TO SWEAR TO ME YOU CAN KEEP A SECRET.

  “We’ve got five minutes, bucko. I’ll swear anything.”

  I MEAN IT. THIS IS A BIG ONE. I NEED TO KNOW I CAN TRUST YOU WITH SOMETHING I’VE NEVER TOLD ANYONE.

  “Tick, tick, Charlie. Come on. I swear. Just hurry it up.”

  RUN “CHARLES_1_PROTOCOL.”

  “I told you. I’m locked out of everything. Besides, there’s not even a Charles_1_Protocol listed here.”

  THAT’S WHY IT’S GOING TO WORK. JUST DO IT.

  With a shuddering breath, Plato entered the command. There wasn’t time to be dickering around with pointless attempts to access files that weren’t there. Eve’s life was ticking to a close. The sands were running out in her hourglass.

  Plato’s mouth hung open when, in fact, a program did run. He stared wide-eyed as a whole new set of menus opened up, allowing access to a system he’d never dreamed of cracking. “Is this what I think it is?”

  YES. THE BACK DOOR TO THE UPLOAD PROTOCOL. I WROTE IT.

  “You mean Charles Truman wrote it…” Plato clarified.

  Was Charlie7 unstable after all?

  Everyone talked about Charlie7 like a rock that storm seas couldn’t budge. But most robots had a pretty clear understanding that they were not the human whose mind made up their majority personality.

  JUST SEE IF YOU CAN SHUT DOWN THE SCAN ON EVELYN WITHOUT REACTIVATING HER.

  Plato’s fingers flew as his heart raced.

  Despite the unfamiliar system, the layout made finding his way a snap. He saw graphical representations of two figures lying inclined on tables, heads just a short distance apart. One was labeled “Eve14,” the other “Evelyn11.”

  He hadn’t believed Charlie7’s claim about who that robot in there really was, but the program didn’t appear uncertain at all. Yet knowing that still didn’t give him access to any commands that would work.

  Nothing would listen to Plato. Eve was going to die while he watched it on screen, helpless. Her death was going to be all his fault.

  “No good,” Plato said, voice shaking. “The scan’s already running. It won’t let me change anything until it finishes.”

  TOO LATE BY THEN. NEXT STEP: SWITCH UPLOADER TARGET.

  “To what? There’s only a listing for Eve14.”

  They were running out of time. The upload program only showed fifty-two seconds remaining, and the countdown felt faster than that. As seconds ticked away, Plato rocked forward and back.

  ENTER: “LOOP BYPASS TEST CHARLIE2.”

  Plato tapped keys as he talked. “What’s this going to do?”

  IT’S GOING TO PERFORM A SIMULATED UPLOAD INSTEAD OF TRYING TO OVERWRITE EVE.

  Plato entered the command, and the recipient “robot” changed from “Eve14” to “Charlie2.”

  “Hey, this isn’t going to create a Charlie2 somewhere, is it?”

  NO. THAT WAS JUST MY INITIAL TEST SUBJECT. NOW HURRY UP. WE’RE NOT DONE.

  “The timer’s still counting down.”

  THAT’S FINE. THE SIMULATED UPLOAD WILL BUY YOU SOME EXTRA TIME. NOW SET “UPLOAD VERIFICATION” TO “NULL.”

  “No dice. Says no such verification file.”

  WHAT? IT SHOULDN’T SAY THAT! SET “FAIL CONDITION” TO “NULL.”

  The first countdown ended, and a message popped up saying that the scan was successfully completed. Another timer started, this one tracking upload time remaining.

  “Same thing.”

  YOU’RE DOING SOMETHING WRONG. TRY AGAIN. EVE’S LIFE DEPENDS ON THIS.

  Plato tried again with both commands. “Sorry, Charlie. What else you got? We’re under two minutes to go. What happens if we don’t make it?”

  THEN EVE GETS HER BRAIN COOKED TO MUSH UNLESS SHE CAN CONVINCE THIS COMPUTER THAT SHE’S EVELYN.

  They tried everything. Charlie7’s commands sounded ever more implausible. Cutting power, rerouting data feeds, overloading the rig… none of it worked. The system was built to be robust. Even their one small alteration seemed like a miracle now.

  As the timer wound down, Plato pictured Eve, nestled in the crook of his arm and watching old movies with him. He was never going to see her like that again. Those bright, inquisitive eyes would be glassy and vacant.

  Plato’s stomach tied itself in knots as the timer hit all zeroes.

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  The world slid along through muddy earth and swept Eve along with it.

  Numbers floated in a void. Digital readouts told Eve all about herself in quantitative terms unable to capture the dizziness and stiffness she felt.

  Warmth trickled up Eve’s arm and filled her as a tingling prickle spread throughout her body. The numbers increased for heart rate and blood pressure.

  Voices bounced off her eardrums without registering as intelligible speech. As Eve fought her way back to consciousness with the aid of an intravenous stimulant, she focused on what was being said.

  “Well, best get on with it, then,” Charlie7 said.

  “Brave face, Charles?” Creator asked. “Well, I imagine you can’t do much while I’m indisposed. If all goes well, maybe you can have Eve16? Fancy a try at a woman’s life?”

  Creator sounded chipper. That didn’t speak well of what had happened while Eve was unconscious.

  Eve’s mouth was filled with cotton like she’d bitten down on a sock. Her tongue was free to move, and she discovered the sensation was illusory. As Eve tried to wipe her mouth, she found herself still strapped snugly to the table.

  More importantly, she felt her arm restraint. The numbing effects of the anesthetic Creator had used were wearing off.

  Or being intentionally counteracted. It stood to reason that if Creator were planning on taking up residence in Eve’s body, she’d want it functional.

  Eve tried to talk. “Chaa-lee. Hep.” The numbness wasn’t entirely faded and had spread to her jaw while she was out cold. “Char. Lee. Hel-puh.”

  Creator gently pushed up her jaw. Eve’s teeth met with a click. “Hush, dear. Don’t go croaking yourself hoarse. I plan on trying out that singing voice in a few minutes. Here. You can watch.”

  Watch? Eve thought. Watch what? Unable to move her head, her only options were staring into the bright overhead lights or shutting her eyes and seeing nothing but her vital signs projected directly onto her retinas.

  Seconds later, she got her answer.

  Sounds from behind Eve told her that Creator was plugging herself into the other side of the machine. When the sounds stopped, a message appeared in the middle of Eve’s vision. It read five minutes and eighteen seconds, with two decimal places at the end that moved too fast to track.

  “Charlie,” Eve moaned. The words dribbled forth as if she were spitting out a mouthful of eggs. “Why. Won’t. You—?”

  “It’s all right,” Charlie7 said. Eve was grateful to have her question cut short. It was so much work, and the warm tingling was beginning to pass. “We’re going to get you out of this. Evelyn is asleep, for all intents and purposes. The system can’t accurately map an active mind. Too much data moving too quickly. It needs an inert snapshot, so we’ve got a few minutes.”

  “Five,” Eve clarified. “Less. Five. Come. Un. Plug.”

  “Save your strength. We’re going through this the hard way. I realize you can’t see
from there, but I’m rather indisposed myself. Two automatons are holding me, and I can’t get loose from them. Evelyn’s even got them off the network, so I can’t begin to try breaking into their programming. But don’t worry, Plato’s got this all under control.”

  “Play. Toe?”

  Eve worked her jaw back and forth to loosen it. With a sudden insight, she clenched and unclenched her fist, wiggled her feet, and took deep, fast breaths. If she could speed her metabolism, she could hasten the spread of the stimulant Creator was dripping into her veins.

  “We’re coming at this from the software side,” Charlie7 explained. “There’s plenty of time.”

  “Three minutes,” Eve said.

  “I’m fairly well aware of the protocol involved. I wrote it.”

  Eve blinked in surprise. It didn’t make the numbers flashing before her eyes slow down, but it certainly made her think.

  “You made this?” she asked.

  “Not this one. The original. This is how robots are born—and reborn. A new robot comes from a fresh combination of personalities from the twenty-seven scientists of Project Transhuman. But for someone who just needs a new crystalline matrix and chassis, it’s the same setup, except your side would be occupied by a freshly built robot chassis and a blank crystal.”

  Eve tried hard not to be fascinated. Her impending doom counting down unavoidably in her field of view was rather urgent. But she’d always wondered where robots came from, and Creator would never tell her.

  “Really? Where do they do it?” If Eve were to learn just one more thing before Creator’s thoughts were pumped into her brain, this would be a good one. She had two minutes to enjoy knowing it.

  “There’s a place called Kanto. It’s a factory a hundred times the size of the farm in Kansas. They make so many different things there, but the most important of all are new robots.”

  Charlie elaborated, telling her about two cousins of his, Charlie13, who oversaw the new robots, and Charlie29, who was in charge of upgrades. Eve focused on the sound of his voice, imagined the other Charlies, and held her breath as the seconds reached single digits.