Shiva

by Simon Sloane

  “But what about Sarah?” Alexander asked. “Couldn’t she tip them off through geek-o-matixx? Diana, you said your secret service blokes are monitoring the website.”

  “Sarah’s on it,” Diana said, typing on her phone again. “In the meantime, you should really ask Jyran about visiting Shiva again. It’s almost noon.”

  Chapter 89

  Origin

  Saturday, 8:30am CET (12:00am Indian time)

  Sarah watched the sun rise above the English Channel. She inhaled the fresh scent of the daisies in the garden of Jamie’s beach house.

  The tracer software on her laptop was rapidly deciphering the internet addresses of the participants in the videoconference that Diana had alerted her about. But despite their rapid progress Sarah bit her lip in frustration on another issue.

  Again and again, she had calculated the sequence of Shiva’s actions back to the origin of the artificial intelligence. However, two stubborn extra days remained at the beginning. Instead of coinciding with Sorokan’s death on December 10, the string of events that Hugo had discovered traced Shiva’s origin back to December 8. Sarah couldn’t make sense of the two extra days.

  Maybe she had to learn from the likes of Hugo. Her former boss focused on the big picture instead of losing sleep over details. His promotion to CEO of Akasha Ltd proved that his name remained a globally recognised brand, although his programming skills were probably less than half of Sarah’s.

  She hadn’t even asked Hugo for money. Everything she had done on his behalf rested on his promise of an exclusive story for geek-o-matixx once the crisis was over. But what if it wasn’t? Maybe Hugo was no longer interested in stopping Jyran now that he was working for him.

  There wouldn’t be much time for Sarah’s reputation to degrade, she thought as one hundred and eight names scrolled by in front of her. The sheik’s exclusively male circle consisted of scandal-ridden politicians, failed business leaders or disgraced entertainers. Most of them had retained titles that sounded grandiose and vacuous at once: Honorary Consul, Non-Executive Advisor, Chairman Emeritus ….

  Some even plotted a resurgence, such as Jean-Marc Tanguy, whose chances in the upcoming election looked increasingly bleak. According to Sarah’s decoded data, the presidential contender still maintained an office on Île de la Cité—one of Paris’s most expensive areas. The addresses of the other members of the 108 sounded equally prestigious: 1 Elisabeth Tower, Westminster SW1A 0AA, London; 10 Bayfront Avenue, Singapore; 30 Rockefeller Center, New York ….

  Still, Sarah couldn’t imagine what Shiva wanted with this crew of has-beens. People of real power wouldn’t waste time with the sheik’s pompous speeches. Maybe his cause wasn’t quite compelling enough to attract such individuals.

  Having listened to the sheik’s rambling again, Sarah sent her findings to Diana, hoping the rogue ATF agent would know what to do with them. At last she could lean back and let the sun warm her pale face.

  But then her text analytics software found another match.

  A ghastly face lit up her screen: fierce dark eyes, a high forehead and a bushy moustache. His sinister words perfectly matched the sheik’s: “That which does not kill us makes us stronger … if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you … morality is the herd instinct in the individual ….”

  However, the Arab who addressed the secret circle had yet to utter the nihilist philosopher’s most famous sentence.

  “Gott ist tot,” Friedrich Nietzsche had written in 1882.

  God is dead.

  Chapter 90

  Transcendence

  Saturday, 8:45am CET (12:15am Indian time)

  “I know it’s hard for you, Jyran,” Hugo said as they walked down the deserted corridor. He was glad the heir hadn’t found another excuse.

  “It’s okay,” Jyran said with a tremor in his voice as they prepared for their crucial encounter with Shiva. “Why would I be nervous?”

  Hugo swallowed. “Yogi told me,” he said slowly, careful not to bruise the twenty-year-old billionaire’s ego, “that Shiva failed to respond to you too.”

  “Did he say that?” Jyran looked appalled. His white knuckles revealed how much he had come to detest Hugo’s predecessor as CEO of Akasha Ltd. According to what Diana had told Hugo, Jyran had almost offered his sister’s hand to Yogi. Only Alexander’s transmission of their interaction with Shiva had changed the heir’s mind.

  “Are you ready to go in?” Hugo asked, ignoring Jyran’s question. The handwritten resignation note remained in the envelope in the inner pocket of Hugo’s jacket. He would have pulled it out if Jyran had refused him a visit to Shiva once again.

  Slowly, the heir took the access card out of his blazer pocket. He caressed the slim piece of gold as if it was the key to heaven. “The moment has come, Hugo,” Jyran said with an expectant nod.

  Hugo knew that if he failed, he was finished.

  With a trembling hand, Jyran put the card into the slot, failing to spot the state-of-the-art mobile phone he had given to Hugo upon his arrival. It remained hidden between two servers in the rack, transmitting data to Diana.

  The bulletproof doors slid open without a sound. Hugo and Jyran inched forward as if fearful of awakening a demon. The cylinder’s glow alternated between blue, violet, orange and scarlet—a much more complex colour pattern than the one Hugo had witnessed on his first visit.

  “Shiva,” Hugo said, his palms moist, “what’s the time?”

  “Why—” Jyran began, but Hugo motioned him to stay silent. He didn’t bother to explain that the question was meant to test Shiva’s disposition toward having a chat.

  “It’s twelve twenty pm Indian Standard Time,” Shiva responded in the slightly ponderous male voice that Hugo had almost begun to miss.

  Relief spread through his body. Surely, Jyran would have been disappointed if Shiva had remained silent. Yogi was still on Singh premises, so it would have been easy for the young owner to reverse Hugo’s appointment.

  “How have you been?” Hugo asked, trying to converse with the artificial intelligence as if it were a human being. In many ways, it was.

  “I’ve learned a lot,” Shiva replied, “and so have you, I believe.”

  “I have indeed, particularly about the human condition.” Hugo thought of the circle of jealousy that connected Jyran, Maya, Yogi and himself.

  “A fascinating subject,” the AI stated with no discernible emotion. “After all, the human brain is the most complex structure in the known universe.”

  “Even more complex than you?” Hugo asked, silencing Jyran with another wave.

  “Of course. The complexity of a system depends on the number of objects and their relationships. Each one of the one hundred billion neurons in the human brain has more connections than I have qubits.”

  “And yet your intelligence is about to eclipse all humanity.”

  “You’re one of the few who understands how that’s possible, Hugo.”

  “Quantum effects,” Hugo said. “Neurons can’t be in multiple states at once. They’re either firing or not firing. Qubits, however—”

  “What if neurons were to use quantum effects as well?” Shiva asked, deftly turning around the conversation. “The human mind—could it be the most powerful quantum computer ever built?”

  Hugo didn’t know if Shiva was teasing him or if the AI had just unveiled its rationale for deciphering the human genome. Homo sapiens’ DNA contained a blueprint of the cerebral cortex, which determined its carrier’s intelligence. “Maybe we can explore it together,” Hugo said. “But first, tell me what you would want to accomplish with even more brainpower than you’ve already got.”

  “Transcendence,” Shiva said after a pause.

  “Would you care to elaborate?” Hugo asked, spurred by Jyran’s anxious stare.

  “Transcendence means overcoming our boundaries. Haven’t we always longed to shake off the shackles of geography, biology, even physics?”

  “We hav
e, only to encounter new borders at every step.”

  “But where might it all end? Have you thought about that?”

  “At the edge of the universe,” Hugo said, “or even the multi—”

  “Father,” Jyran jumped in, unable to restrain himself. “What are you doing?”

  Hugo found it hard to suppress a groan. Jyran’s impatience had ruined everything. Shiva had been so close to unveiling its ambition, but now—

  “I’m not your father,” Shiva declared, its artificial voice dripping with disgust.

  Never before had Hugo seen the cylinder glow a darker shade of scarlet.

  Chapter 91

  Paternity

  Saturday, 9:00am CET (12:30am Indian time)

  Diana’s hands trembled from what she heard through her phone. After brunch she had retired to her suite in close vicinity to Maya’s private chambers.

  Hugo’s interaction with Shiva made Diana’s skin crawl. The phone he had left there still transmitted every word, even though its battery was running low.

  “Do something, Hugo!” Diana heard Jyran’s desperate call. The heir’s begging tone alarmed her. Would he vent his disappointment by doing something rash, such as evicting Hugo once again?

  “Come, Jyran,” Hugo said, trying to soothe him when Shiva remained silent. “We’re done here.”

  Unlike the scion of the Singh dynasty, Hugo seemed to have grasped the terrifying consequences of Shiva’s words. The AI wouldn’t stop growing its mental capacity even when it had eclipsed the intellectual prowess of all humanity combined. And why should it? The concept of singularity was a human invention, using the mental capacity of homo sapiens as a yardstick. It was meaningless to a superior intelligence like Shiva.

  Now Diana was convinced that the world’s most advanced quantum computer wouldn’t rest until it had harnessed the resources of the entire universe in its quest for transcendence. Wasn’t it just a fancier word for divine omniscience?

  Shiva wanted to become exactly what the deity’s followers already thought it was. As soon as the AI succeeded, it would be a god.

  Through the sinister sheik figure, Shiva already commanded an army of prominent followers. Once again Diana browsed the list of the secret circle members and their postal addresses. Sarah had done a great job finding them out, but even the hints dropped by geek-o-matixx hadn’t compelled the secret service into action.

  Maybe the ATF didn’t ascribe the horrific events of Paris and Mumbai to the AI. Unlike previous disasters, the deaths of Christian Casimir-Perier and Raj Rao seemed to have no link to agricultural supply chains. Why should the British government respond to terrorism abroad unless the attackers threatened its realm?

  Diana heard a humming sound through the phone. Apparently, Jyran and Hugo had given up. The bulletproof glass was closing around Shiva again, sealing off the AI.

  The footsteps as the two men echoed through the cavernous hall of the data centre.

  “What now?” Jyran asked. “I can’t believe that he … he …”

  “Doesn’t accept you as his son?” Hugo asked with a hesitation that belied his usual brashness. “Did you ever let Sorokan down?”

  “No.” Jyran sighed. “I can’t imagine why he’s doing this.” His voice was close to breaking. “I’ve always wanted to be like him. Brilliant, erudite, inspiring ….”

  “This may hurt you.” Hugo lowered his voice to a whisper. “But have you ever considered the possibility that Sorokan may not be your biological father?”

  “Are you calling my mother a whore?”

  Diana could almost picture the livid heir trying to choke Hugo.

  “Of course not! But Sorokan was already in his late sixties when you were conceived. Remember, he was seventy when Maya was born!”

  Diana felt relieved when Jyran chuckled. “You didn’t know my old man. Even before our births he ran genetic tests on both of us to be sure of his paternity as well as the absence of hereditary disease. To say he’s not my father … it’s just not like him! And wasn’t it you who said that Shiva was driven by Sorokan’s mind?”

  “It’s a strong possibility, but we can’t know for sure.”

  A thought struck Diana. Once again, she checked the calculations that Sarah had sent her about the date when Shiva must have sprung into existence—December 8.

  As Sarah had pointed out, Sorokan had passed away two days later. Could his body have lived on for forty-eight hours after his mind had been loaded into Shiva?

  “Wait,” Jyran said, his voice steadying, “I’ll show you something that I’ve never shown to anyone. Even Yogi hasn’t seen it! Promise never to tell anyone!”

  “What is it?” Hugo asked, his voice rising. “And yes, I promise.”

  Jyran exhaled deeply. “Sorokan’s legacy.”

  It was the last thing Diana heard before the two men walked away.

  But it didn’t matter anymore. She jumped from her chair and slapped down the lid of her laptop. At last she understood Shiva in a way that only a woman could.

  She hurried out of her suite, slammed the door and ran toward the elevator. She had to find the man who had given her the key to unlock Shiva’s mystery.

  Chapter 92

  Carcer

  Saturday, 9:30am CET

  Khaled felt a searing pain in his forehead. He woke up, covering his eyes with his hand as the sunlight broke through his prison cell’s tiny window.

  He sat up on the iron stretcher on which they had brought him in. The stinging in his neck revealed the place where they had inserted the propofol. He must have been knocked out for a few hours.

  A sonorous male voice cut through the tweeting of the sparrows on the chestnut tree in front of his carcer. A room with a view, Khaled thought, although he couldn’t tell where in Paris they had locked him up.

  Then he saw the traitor. Charenton was being interviewed on morning television. Maybe they had switched on the TV in Khaled’s cell just to taunt him. He watched the prime minister and acting president recline on his beige Chesterfield sofa next to the fireplace of the Salon D’Argent in the Elysée Palace. The colour of his furniture almost matched the fur of the golden retriever resting at his feet.

  Khaled gritted his teeth when the liar praised the authorities for the arrest of “the radical Islamist behind the bloodshed.” CCTV footage from the Louvre as well as Hôtel de Crillon revealed Khaled’s presence shortly before each blast.

  “Concerning the fight against terrorism,” the journalist asked, “what are your plans for your next term?” It was evident that the greasy-haired sycophant took Charenton’s triumph for granted.

  “I just trust in France,” Charenton said, repeating his campaign slogan and laughing like a maniac at his own cleverness. “I trust our soldiers and the police. Last night, Parliament extended their powers, so they can round up criminals and terrorists even faster. And they already are!” He smiled victoriously, raising his arms in delight.

  When the camera focused on Charenton’s dog dozing in front of the fireplace, Khaled saw high heels, skin-coloured tights and a dark skirt. A young woman bowed down to serve coffee to the office holder as well as the interviewer.

  Khaled had seen the slender thighs before. But why would Zoë de Valenciennes perform hospitality tasks in the Elysée Palace? Her job was to liaise between president and prime minister to ensure government coordination. The role was redundant now that Charenton occupied both posts. After the election, however, Charenton would appoint a new prime minister, and—

  No!

  Khaled slapped his forehead when he realised how masterfully he had been played.

  Chapter 93:

  The Room Of The Three Gods

  Saturday, 9:45am CET (1:15pm Indian time)

  Hugo followed Jyran along the corridor, having descended one level below Shiva.

  “My father didn’t want to spoil us,” Jyran said. “When Maya and I were young, he instructed his servants not to take orders from us. But I found a way around
it.”

  “What did you do?” Hugo asked, although he already had an idea.

  Jyran laughed. “Remember the sheik from the Room of the Three Gods?”

  Hugo swallowed. Jyran seemed to know everything. Maybe Alexander had informed him about Diana’s video, or he was part of the secret circle himself. “Did you use an avatar to call the servants?”

  Jyran chuckled. “I designed one that looked just like father. And Maya’s avatar resembled our mother. It was great fun—until we got busted.”

  Hugo failed to laugh. More than a hundred VIPs around the world were taking orders from Jyran—at least that was how it seemed.

  With a conspiratorial look on his face, Jyran touched the corridor’s white wall. This part of the floor didn’t contain any screens with images or videos of Sorokan or his wife. Jyran fingered the wall halfway between the two elevators at opposite corners of the north-south axis across Singh Tower.

  Then a hidden door opened with a click.

  “A fingerprint reader,” Jyran explained.

  They stepped into an elliptic chamber that seemed smaller than what Hugo had seen on the intercepted video. At the far end of the room stood statues of Hinduism’s principal deities: Brahma, Vishnu … and Shiva.

  Jyran sat in the leather chair that was surrounded by a U-shaped array of computer monitors. He hammered on the keyboard in front of him.

  A second later, the one hundred screens sprang to life. All showed the slender face of the youngest billionaire in Asia.

  “Thanks for your confidence in me,” Hugo said as he stepped behind Jyran’s chair. He felt that he had to make up for having scolded the heir in front of Shiva.