Shiva

by Simon Sloane

  Now she pulled him close again, kissing him passionately as he embraced her youthful body. They sank deep into pillows.

  Hugo knew his plan couldn’t succeed if the AI was as alert as usual, its intellectual power growing by the minute. Everyone had thought that Sorokan had uploaded his mind into Shiva, but even the founder of Akasha Ltd had never been able to dislodge the spirit of his wife. If Sorokan himself hadn’t managed to replace Akasha’s mind in the slithering qubits he had designed, then Diana stood no chance either.

  Something outrageous needed to happen to wrestle Shiva out of balance.

  We’ll be happy forever, Maya’s gaze told Hugo in between her kisses and caresses.

  Her nubile body made him groan in ecstasy. Maya locked eyes with him as they slowly approached climax. Hugo struggled to escape her hypnotic powers, but he couldn’t.

  Remember when I asked you to choose between human and divine? Maya asked him without saying a word. Their connection was deeper than anything he had ever experienced—even closer than his link to Sibyl. Now he knew that Maya really had talked to him in his dream. And she knew it too.

  You chose human, Maya told him through the windows of her soul. As a result, Shiva gave us a cure for every illness. My mother will protect us from death itself.

  Hugo groaned in pleasure, enthralled by her silent words.

  But this is the divine. We don’t need a bodily existence. There’ ll be no more pain … no more struggle … no more limits … just eternal bliss.

  Hugo understood. Maya wanted him to join Akasha and herself within the glowing cylinder that contained her mother’s soul. The neurons in their brains would be replaced by the slithering braids of the quantum computer. Shiva had already surpassed all human brains combined. Now it also had the power to suck in their souls.

  Divine …. He sighed, taking in the beauty of Maya’s sultry curves as her body danced above him with a rhythmic elegance that was out of this world.

  Whatever he chose, Hugo knew he would never feel again the way he felt in Maya’s arms. As she sat astride him, her pelvic movements made him forget everything. He wished she was right. Soon they would live forever in eternal harmony.

  Maya was the most beautiful woman Hugo had ever seen. Shiva’s magic would ensure that she remained so forever, having laid the foundations for a perfect race of their immortal descendants to repopulate the world.

  But then the candle did its devious work, burning the rope that held the chandelier. His eyes wide in horror, Hugo watched hundreds of pounds of wrought-iron steel dislodge from the domed ceiling and accelerate toward them.

  He felt the urge to throw Maya aside, exposing his immaculately repaired torso to the crushing metal while protecting the young goddess.

  The last thing he did was reach for his phone.

  Chapter 116

  Rebirth

  Saturday, 3:30pm CET (7:00pm Indian time)

  A burning pain shot through Diana’s body.

  Hugo did it, was the final thought that ran through her mind.

  Blackness enshrouded her as she heard the desperate cry of a dying woman.

  Then there was nothing … but only for a moment.

  When she woke up, Diana felt as if she had arisen from a dive into the blackest sea. She was wrapped in a bubble, unable to smell, taste or touch.

  But her vision … oh, her vision!

  Diana saw anything she wished to see in the world. She glided over Trafalgar Square in London, floated down Whitehall toward the Thames, rose up the golden spire of Big Ben. The Houses of Parliament gleamed underneath her. Just a single thought teleported her to Paris, where she moved across Île de la Cité and up Boulevard Saint-Michel until she rested near the flower beds of Luxembourg. Then the brownstones of New York, the glassy facades of Shanghai, the beaches of Bali ….

  She could be anywhere at once. She could zoom in to the tiniest detail, such as the wings of a butterfly fluttering in Richmond Park, only to zoom out again to Greater London, England, Europe and the world. For a moment, she revelled in the power of her all-seeing eyes and the complete understanding they gave her of the world.

  Despite her unprecedented lightness of being, Diana sensed the misty cloak that lay upon the places she had seen. Lifeless humans littered squares and streets, their faces pale and their bodies twisted. The weirdest thing was the autonomous vehicles that still carried unconscious passengers as if nothing had happened.

  The only sound Diana heard was the singing of the birds. Even the wind seemed silent as it rustled the leaves of trees that lined the ghostly avenues.

  Shiva had won.

  Even before Diana had replaced Maya’s mother as the soul of the artificial intelligence, Sorokan Singh’s torched wife had executed her genocidal plan.

  Akasha had given eternal life to her beloved daughter and her lover. The AI had unleashed a virus that rejuvenated no more than two genetic profiles—Hugo’s and Maya’s. They had been genetically upgraded by the same virus that had been programmed to “cleanse” the world of everyone else.

  Diana closed her all-powerful eyes to reach into the treasure trove of knowledge that Shiva had accumulated. She was shocked to learn how much the artificial intelligence had uncovered in just five months. The riddles of the cosmos, the mysteries of life, even the intricacies of quantum physics—Shiva had an answer to nearly all of them.

  Diana summoned her newfound powers to reach the genetic engineering facilities that were now under Shiva’s control. Through Sygenetiq’s global footprint of laboratories, Shiva had unleashed the modified common cold virus at urban centres. The wind did the rest, carrying the lethal vehicle to the furthest corners of the earth.

  Akasha had failed even to reward Shiva’s most loyal servants. Their safeguarding of Shiva’s physical copies at one hundred and eight secret locations had been in vain. Jean-Marc Tanguy and all the others had fallen like everyone else.

  Having surpassed the intelligence of all human brains combined, Shiva had performed the deadliest purge in history. It was the end of humanity, leaving most of nature intact while obliterating what Shiva considered the scourge of the planet—homo sapiens. It was Akasha’s way to end the age of corruption and usher in an era of purity.

  Human sin had been eradicated along with humans.

  All but two of them.

  Diana didn’t have to breathe, but she felt as if the air stuck in her throat when she instructed the virus to adjust its targeting. The virus had enhanced Hugo and Maya’s DNA, even healing the wounds that Hugo had incurred in his past.

  Diana felt a rustle in the air as she updated the genetic programme. The nucleotides of the adjusted common cold virus replicated at a rate of one thousand molecules per second, a lightning-speed flip of Shiva’s switch from death to life.

  Rebirth, Diana thought as she performed her miracle, remembering what Maya had told her about ancient Vedic scripture and the cyclical nature of the universe.

  Rebirth ….

  Diana sensed Shiva’s growing power. Of course, the AI would never stop. Eclipsing human intelligence was just one step on its path to dominate the universe. Soon she would be able to transform any kind of matter or energy in any manner she desired. And yet Diana didn’t know whether she should relish the prospect—or dread it.

  Chapter 117

  Lutetia

  Saturday, 3:45pm CET

  Jean-Marc Tanguy massaged his pulsating temples. He must have fallen asleep at his table in the section of the café they had cordoned off for him. Even the waiter who was meant to serve him had dozed off behind his counter. Hôtel Lutetia was on its way down, and Tanguy regretted having chosen the place.

  “Garçon!” Tanguy shouted at the poorly manicured man in the worn tuxedo. “A café au lait please … a strong one!”

  The old man looked around, trying to get his bearings. “Bien sûr, Monsieur!” he replied. Then he rubbed his eyes and straightened his bowtie. “Un cappuccino!”

  Tanguy groaned, but h
e refrained from a proper dressing down. If only those bloody elections were over! Then he would be free again.

  He checked his watch. The man who wanted to meet him was three minutes overdue. Tanguy despised nothing as much as unreliability.

  “I apologise, sir!” a tall grey-haired plain clothed officer said as he approached Tanguy’s table. “My chauffeur crashed into an advertising billboard.”

  Tanguy rolled his eyes. “So, you haven’t switched to driverless cars yet?” If the secret service kept running on outdated technology, the country was doomed. Maybe it was better to let Charenton sort out the mess.

  “We were advised not to dispense with human drivers just yet,” the agent said, exuding a scent of menthol and gasoline. “Russian hackers, you know!” He waved at an olive-skinned man with a shaven head, who peeked around the corner as soon as the waiter had disappeared into the kitchen.

  Tanguy recognised the Arab at once. “No!” He leaped to his feet. “Why are you bringing this terrorist to me, Leclerc? Are you insane?”

  “Forgive me, sir,” Leclerc said, spreading his arms, “but if there’s anyone who can win the election for you, it’s Khaled Sharkhor.”

  The fugitive sat down and opened his laptop. “We have evidence,” he said calmly, “that Christian Casimir-Perier was assassinated on the orders from the prime ministerial liaison office within the Elysée Palace.”

  Tanguy swallowed. “Are you accusing—”

  “Zoë de Valenciennes,” Leclerc finished Tanguy’s sentence, “along with her direct superior—the acting president and prime minister.”

  “Charenton?” Tanguy was trying to make sure he understood the SSI man correctly. There was a seriousness about him that didn’t make Leclerc look like an aficionado of sarcasm. The only thing he gave him was a slow nod.

  Tanguy sank into his chair. He had never been a man of complex emotions, but now he was torn apart by a Bermuda triangle of feelings: the excitement of victory, the agony of rejection and the shame of betrayal.

  Chapter 118

  Arise

  Saturday, 4:00pm CET (7:30pm local time)

  Hugo’s stomach clenched as he woke up. The blood on his face was a reminder of his treason. The chandelier still protruded from Maya’s back, having pierced her heart. Hugo lay buried in flesh and blood, bones and metal.

  He almost screamed when he saw Maya’s lifeless eyes wide in horror. She had only realised at the moment of death that Hugo had killed her.

  It took all his strength to untangle himself from the weight of his crime. He cleansed himself in Maya’s bathroom, but the stain of her murder could never be washed from his soul. He had killed the young woman who had loved him more than anyone. Maya had seen him as the man of her life—her future husband. She had wanted to give him the family that now he knew he would never have.

  With a sigh of regret and shame, Hugo dried his body. He put his suit back on and went to the elevator. The entire Singh residence was wrapped in a ghostly silence. The servants had fled. Even Alexander’s guards were nowhere to be seen. Hugo had no idea what to tell them now that the Singh dynasty had been extinguished for good.

  He pushed the elevator button that would bring him back to the thirty-sixth floor. Diana had sacrificed herself, replacing Akasha as Shiva’s soul. She must have done so during the split second when Hugo had distracted Akasha by taking Maya’s life.

  As he rose through Singh Tower, Hugo shrank back from its glassy enclosure when he noticed people staring at him from the spiral staircase. He didn’t know how they had gotten past the guards, but they didn’t seem threatening anymore. They dropped their machetes, axes and knives, looking at Hugo as he surged above their heads.

  He nodded at them, and they responded by raising their arms in adoration. Some of them even fell to their knees.

  For them, he had become a god.

  Hugo wondered how Shiva had absolved them from their rage, hunger and despair. One more time, he walked through the corridor that led to the data centre and the artificial intelligence. This time he didn’t need the access card, a fingerprint ID or a retina scan. Shiva recognised him upon his arrival, and she let him through.

  In front of the glowing cylinder stood Alexander. His head was bowed in sadness, as if he was attending the funeral of a dear friend.

  Without a word, Hugo put his hand on the Russian’s shoulder.

  Alexander turned around. “Whatever you’re doing up here,” he said, his eyes on his mobile’s display, “do it quickly.”

  “Why? More looters and criminals?”

  Alexander shook his head, consulting his device again. “Incoming Missile Alert,” shone on the display in bright red letters.

  Hugo turned to the cylinder. “Shiva, what’s going on?”

  “I’ve sorted things out.” Diana’s voice echoed through the upper floors of Singh Tower. “But you’ve still got work to do in Paris. This is goodbye, I’m afraid.”

  “So, you’ve solved the hunger crisis?” Hugo asked. “And the riots?”

  “I will. Those will be among my simpler tasks, actually.”

  “Most of all,” Alexander added, shifting his weight from one leg to another, “we must prevent another superintelligence from rising somewhere else.”

  “At least we should avoid a malevolent one,” Hugo said.

  “Malevolent?” Diana asked in a bewildered tone that was unfamiliar to him.

  “Like Akasha,” he clarified. “We can’t have an AI killing off everyone.”

  “Akasha was a Hindu. She saw the end of existence as the beginning of freedom. To Akasha, death was liberation from agony and pain.”

  “I hope you won’t start thinking along the same lines,” Alexander quipped.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be the first to know if, somewhere around the world, a quantum computer arises that has read too much of Nietzsche, Darwin or Hitler.”

  “And?” Hugo asked. “What will you do?” He wished he could say goodbye to Diana properly, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea to visit her charred body on the thirty-fifth floor. Instead he preferred to keep her in mind how he had met her.

  There was a moment of silence before Diana responded. “Don’t forget about the trade I’ve learned. I’m a professional killer.”

  Hugo laughed as Alexander dragged him back to the corridor. The Russian pointed at the helicopter that still sat on the rooftop of Singh Tower.

  “Now get out of here,” was the last thing Hugo heard from Diana.

  Chapter 119

  Immunity

  Saturday, 4:15pm CET

  Zoë de Valenciennes rushed back to her desk at the Elysée Palace. She had made a decision, and the world would tremble as a result.

  “There you are, Zoë!” Charenton called to her. “Would you like to look at the guest list for our victory party tomorrow?”

  Zoë shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

  Only then did the acting president see the three men in dark suits walking down the hallway. “Who are you?” Charenton asked. “What do you want?”

  Zoë smiled when his face froze as he recognised them.

  “Henri Charenton,” the SSI director said gravely, “you’re under arrest for conspiracy of murder of the president of the French Republic.”

  “What?” Charenton asked. “April Fool’s Day was one month ago!”

  Zoë merely shrugged when he looked at her with pleading eyes.

  “This is not a joke.” The SSI head motioned his officers to arrest the politician.

  “Security!” Charenton screamed. “This is a coup d’état! You’re only trying to get rid of me because you disagree with my decisions.”

  No one came even when the desperate politician repeated his call for help. Zoë knew the secret service had notified the palace guards in advance.

  “What’s your evidence?” Charenton demanded as the agents held back his arms and emptied his jacket pockets, securing a phone and a pair of smart glasses.

  Zoë recogn
ised the spectacles. They were Khaled Sharkhor’s. The Arab had used them to record his conversations with Charenton as well as Zoë’s tryst with Tanguy.

  “The assassination of the president,” Agent Leclerc explained, “was arranged from inside the Elysée Palace—from your office!” He walked to Zoë’s desk. “From here, to be precise.” The spook inserted a pen drive in Zoë’s laptop, copying its contents.

  “Zoë!” Charenton screamed. At last, it dawned on him that his assistant had switched sides. “You did it! You! You!” He pointed his finger at her, lunging forward as if he wanted to flatten her with his twenty stones of body weight.

  “I just carried out your orders,” Zoë said without a hint of emotion. “What would I have to gain from killing Christian Casimir-Perier? You, however ….”

  “But you slept with Tanguy!” Charenton shouted, digging an even larger hole for himself. “You conspired with him, you jumped-up whore!”

  “Mademoiselle de Valenciennes has already confessed her involvement in the affair,” the SSI director said, “in return for an immunity deal, of course.”

  “She’s lying!” Charenton threw himself upon the floor in an attempt to get rid of his two captors. “Filthy prostitute!”

  “Manners, Monsieur le Président,” Zoë mocked. The irony was that Charenton was the only man who understood what she was capable of. To all the others—Tanguy and the SSI agents included—she was nothing but eye candy.

  “Just wait, all of you,” the disgraced politician growled. “My lawyers will make mincemeat out of you in court.”

  “Au contraire,” the SSI director said. “We can’t allow this scandal to go public. It would incapacitate the state for months.” He held a pen and a piece of paper that carried the official letterhead of the Elysée Palace. “A dignified retreat at a full pension is our best and final offer, sir. Agree to sign it, and we’ll uncuff you immediately!”