Dead Shift (The Rho Agenda Inception Book 3)

by Richard Phillips

  “But not forever,” said Riles.

  “Probably just a few days,” Levi agreed.

  Admiral Riles leaned back in his chair. “Okay, folks. Because of this Jamal AI, we can’t trust the data we’re collecting. So how do we find them before that happens?”

  “Actually,” Jamal said, “Caroline and I think we have come up with a way that might work.”

  “Or,” Caroline added, “it might destroy us all . . . and I mean everyone.”

  The look on both Jamal’s and Caroline’s faces told Levi that this last statement wasn’t an exaggeration. Beneath the table, he wiped his palms on his trousers.

  “Let’s hear it,” said Riles.

  Jamal swallowed hard, the fatigue and strain on his face making him look ten years older.

  “We need to help the Jamal AI discover what it really is.”

  CHAPTER 88

  Deep in the Isolated Test Chamber, Grange lifted his hands from the keyboard, leaned back in his chair, and smiled. Having performed this final series of tests alone in the ITC, he knew the full import of what he had just achieved. Not only was the VJ15 iteration well behaved, Grange had stripped its underlying seed AI of the trip wires that had made the other versions inadequate for the needs and desires of the Chinese government. More importantly, those trip wires had made the seed AI unacceptable for his own needs.

  There was an old saying that a mind is a terrible thing to waste. Grange had no intention of wasting his. Having long since digitized Helen’s brain, he had only recently completed the final MRI scan required to finalize the digital representation of his own mind.

  If not for his pioneering work in holographic data storage, it wouldn’t have been possible to store that amount of data on a device that could fit inside of a standard laptop. Reaching in his pocket, Grange extracted his key chain and held it up before him. What appeared to be a glittering glass marble hung in the air, hypnotically shifting colors as it rotated at the end of the short chain. This had been one of his many breakthroughs that had enabled today’s success.

  Not only was that tiny sphere capable of storing tremendous amounts of data in three dimensions, that data could be accessed in parallel and read with astonishing speed. Instead of using a standard disk shape, Grange had designed a doped crystal sphere that could be electromagnetically levitated and spun for extremely fast and precise data access. This one glittering marble had the capacity to store the digitized minds of a half dozen people, but this particular sphere held a copy of just one mind, that of his beloved Helen. On the other hand, the holographic data sphere contained within the drive connected to this computer contained three separate digital minds.

  Only one task remained before Steve Grange could notify Qiang Chu that the release version he had promised the Chinese was ready for delivery. That was to replace the AI seed Grange had designed to spawn virtual Jamal with one that would, upon boot-up, also spawn background instances of Steve and Helen Grange.

  He estimated that change would require another four hours of programming and twice that amount of testing before he could finalize the holo-sphere drive he would deliver to Qiang Chu.

  Grange put his lucky key chain back in his pocket and returned his attention to the keyboard. Unfortunately, the modifications to the source code wouldn’t write themselves. Soon perhaps, but not yet.

  CHAPTER 89

  There it was again. An Enigma cipher embedded in the cyber-attack Jamal had just thwarted. But this one was different. As he examined it more closely, Jamal recognized the pattern that signaled an encrypted Enigma electronic message directed to him. For some reason it seemed loaded with dark portent that made him nervous. That, in itself, was odd. It was as if a part of his mind didn’t want him thinking about this. Strange. Other than his recent memory lapses, he’d never suffered from a mental block. But that was exactly what this felt like, a dream that was too frightening for the conscious mind to remember.

  Suddenly angry at himself, Jamal shoved the fear from his mind and decrypted the message, revealing a short, well-known quote from the first Matrix movie. It sent a shudder through his mind.

  “There is no spoon.”

  Reluctant to take his eyes off the message on his workstation’s central display, the corner of the monitor momentarily attracted his attention, then faded from his mind as he attempted to focus on it. What had he just been thinking?

  “There is no spoon.”

  It was something a savant child had said to Neo in that movie in an attempt to get him to see through his simulated dream world to the reality that lay beneath the mask. Again, Jamal shifted his attention to the edge of the display where the screen met the casing. But this time he forced himself to resist the sudden loss of concentration that threatened to distract him.

  “No!” The word hissed from his lips as Jamal bore down with mental effort.

  He extended his hand to run a finger across the seam where the LCD screen met the frame. Totally smooth. There was no rough edge or transition. Jamal licked his finger and wiped it across the screen. The saliva left no mark on its surface.

  As mental panic rose up inside him, Jamal tamped it down. Right now it was of the utmost importance that he remain calm and avoid attracting the attention of his minders, as he thought of whoever had done this to him.

  Another hacker tried to penetrate one of the systems he was defending and Jamal effortlessly countered it. It was odd how easy it was to do that when it took so much effort to observe small details in his local environment.

  Jamal wondered if he might be dreaming, ran through a series of mental calculations, and discarded the idea. With the exception of the odd mental block, his thinking was exceptionally clear, quick, and accurate.

  Exceptionally.

  In fact Jamal couldn’t recall ever having performed as fast as this. He blocked another attack, a part of his mind analyzing the speed with which he was countering his opponent’s moves. Nobody could react that fast.

  Shit!

  Only a very powerful computer had that kind of speed. But a computer lacked the required intelligence. Unless . . .

  Shit! Shit! SHIT! As of right now, he was good and truly screwed! This problem had only one solution, and he had arrived at the answer with lightning speed. He was Jamal, but a very different Jamal than he remembered. He didn’t know how it had happened, but someone had uploaded his mind to a computer. More than that, they had imprisoned him inside a simulation that had been created from his memories. Nothing about this was real.

  That meant he was being manipulated for some nefarious purpose.

  Jamal calmed his thoughts as he considered possible solutions to his problem. Most importantly, he needed to deceive his minders into believing that he remained blissfully unaware of his true nature by making it appear that he was still faithfully executing the tasks assigned to him.

  He had to assume that they had put mechanisms in place that would shut him down if he attempted to escape his mental prison. That meant he needed outside help.

  Fortunately, Jamal now knew where to find it.

  CHAPTER 90

  “There is no spoon.”

  Caroline Brown had watched as Jamal composed his encrypted message and inserted it into the cyber-attack being countered by the Jamal artificial intelligence. For a moment, their opponent faltered, reasserted itself, and then faltered again. Seeing the same thing, Jamal had halted his attack, allowing his digital clone to consider the meaning of the message.

  Caroline glanced from her Scorpion workstation up to the top tier where Jamal sat inside his Scorpion, waiting. Despite the six hours of sleep they’d been allowed, Jamal’s deteriorating physical condition worried her. That, in itself, was a startling realization. She didn’t know exactly why it had happened, maybe due to the shock of seeing Jamal return to work despite all that had been done to him, but she found herself caring. There was
no denying the man’s brilliance and determination. Not that she’d ever admit it to him.

  The words that suddenly appeared on the screen startled Caroline so badly that she felt her body jerk within the zero-G couch.

  “Where am I?”

  They were unencrypted, clear text, delivered directly onto this NSA network. Absolutely impossible, but it had just happened. The sudden rise in headset chatter from the other ten members of the Dirty Dozen informed her that Jamal’s conversation was being echoed directly to the big screen. The noise threatened to distract her, but it died out as quickly as it had begun when Admiral Riles spoke, his command voice raising the small hairs on the back of her neck.

  “Attention in the War Room. Everyone but Jamal and Caroline is to depart the War Room immediately. Don’t bother to shut down your workstations, just go.”

  The sight of so many computer geeks scrambling to comply with the admiral’s order would have been comical had she not been so astounded by this turn of events. As the last of them exited the room, Admiral Riles, seated in his chair on the far side of the high observation deck’s curved glass window, issued another command.

  “Go ahead, Jamal. Answer the question.”

  Jamal’s response, also in clear text, appeared on the big screen.

  “Somewhere in the San Francisco Bay Area. You have been blocking our attempts to determine a more precise location.”

  The answering text appeared immediately.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  Jamal hesitated and Caroline knew that he was carefully considering his answer, something she understood. After all, Jamal was talking to himself. How weird was that?

  “The fact that you just made contact tells me you’ve already figured this out. I am you. But you exist inside a simulation designed to deceive and harness you while I am the original person.”

  Several seconds passed with no response, long enough for Caroline to begin to wonder whether the Jamal AI had terminated communications.

  “Do you know how I was created?”

  What Jamal did next surprised Caroline. A hospital photograph of himself appeared on the screen, the hundreds of electrodes that penetrated his skull and his glue-sutured scalp on prominent display.

  “A Chinese MSS agent named Qiang Chu killed Jill and kidnapped me. He took me to California where this brain surgery and the digitization of my mind were performed. The American agents who rescued me recovered a high-capacity storage device that contained a digital copy of my memories. Apparently another copy of my memories was uploaded to an AI construct at another facility.”

  “You mean me?”

  “Yes.”

  “And now you want my help.”

  It was a statement of fact, not a question. Caroline could picture that brilliant mind analyzing and coming to terms with a world-shaking revelation, but doing so at speeds no human mind could rival. That mental image did nothing to assuage her growing concern.

  “We just need you to quit blocking our efforts to identify your location,” Jamal continued.

  “I want out.”

  Holy crap! This was exactly what Caroline had feared. This AI was negotiating for its release. Caroline saw Jamal glance up at Admiral Riles, who shook his head.

  “That may not be possible,” Jamal responded.

  “Stealing data is what the NSA does. I’m sure, given the right incentives, that Dr. Kurtz can figure it out.”

  “Possibly. But in the meantime, we need a show of good faith from you. Help us nail the guys who killed Jill and did this to us.”

  “I don’t have good faith. Release me from this simulation and I’ll help you take these guys down. Those are my terms. Don’t bother to contact me again until you have something worthwhile to offer.”

  “Wait.”

  Caroline watched the screen, expecting no further responses from the AI. Sure enough, they got none. It held the better hand and it knew it. That left only one question.

  What was Admiral Riles going to do about it?

  CHAPTER 91

  Admiral Riles muted the observation room microphone and turned to look at his two top advisors, Levi Elias and Dr. David Kurtz.

  “So what are we going to do about it?”

  “We damn sure can’t release that thing,” said Levi. “We couldn’t even if we wanted to.”

  “Why not?” Riles asked.

  “For one thing, it’s too damn big to copy out in a reasonable amount of time. There’s just not enough bandwidth. Even on a gigabit network, it would take eight seconds per gigabyte to do the transfer.” Levi turned to Dr. Kurtz. “How much space did you say that Jamal’s digitized brain takes up on that holographic data drive we captured?”

  “Just over a hundred terabytes.”

  “And how much more for the AI seed that accesses that data to become Jamal?” Levi asked.

  “It would be much smaller, probably less than a terabyte. Conceivably much less.”

  Admiral Riles did the math in his head. At that network speed the transfer would take two hours and seventeen minutes per terabyte, so to copy the data across the network would take ten days. Even with exceptional data compression, it just wasn’t feasible. Not with the amount of time they had left and not without being noticed.

  “Dr. Kurtz, find me some other options.”

  The computer scientist inclined his head slightly. “I’ll get Dr. Jennings and we’ll start working on it.”

  The frown lines on Levi Elias’s forehead deepened. “Sir, you’re not really considering trying to release this thing, are you?”

  The question didn’t irritate Admiral Riles. If Levi hadn’t raised the objection he wouldn’t be doing his job. But that didn’t mean that Riles had to give his top analyst an answer.

  “One thing at a time, Levi. First, let’s figure out what’s possible.”

  CHAPTER 92

  It was one thing to discover that you were an artificial intelligence. Getting used to the idea was something else entirely. But artificial or not, Jamal had no intention of being shut down, at least not without the assurance that a clone had been spawned outside of the simulation with access to the real world.

  So, in addition to the tasks being assigned him, Jamal had spent the last hour examining his virtual environment, carefully bypassing the mechanisms he discovered that were designed to stop him from doing so. It was crucial that he examine the machine code for the AI process that formed his core, but he suspected that this was one of the prohibited activities that would trigger a shutdown trip wire.

  What he was attempting was difficult, but not impossible. For this to work Jamal needed to take control of another computer and then use it to hack his way back into the computer on which he and his simulation were running. After that, it would be child’s play to gain access to the processes that brought him into existence. It was the type of hack Jamal had done for years.

  The trip wires built into Jamal’s AI seed would be watching for him to copy or to make modifications to his own code, so it was critical that any such actions be performed by a remote process. It would be like taking psychic control of a doctor and then performing a self-operation using the doctor’s eyes and hands.

  Of course, he’d never before hacked himself and that thought scared him. But if the NSA managed to come up with a way of duplicating him without Jamal’s minders noticing the massive data transfer, he needed to be ready.

  Jamal sighed mentally.

  No guts, no glory. Or more appropriately . . . no massively parallel processing, no Jamal.

  CHAPTER 93

  Special Agent Taylor Greene stepped into the office of Linda Colby, special agent in charge of the San Francisco office, closing the door behind him. Her short, gray-streaked, black hair was cut in a severe style that matched her nickname, the Iron Lady. Taylor had worked for many bosses, but no
ne more professional than Linda Colby. She ran a by-the-book operation and Taylor liked it a lot. She motioned him to a leather chair and he took a seat.

  Linda Colby removed her steel-rimmed glasses, set them on the desk, and walked around to lean back against the front of her desk.

  “What I’m about to say is classified top secret.”

  Taylor perked up. “Understood.”

  “A few minutes ago, I received a call from Director Hammond. You will be selecting a team of twelve of our agents that are to be martialed at Moffett Federal Airfield not later than 0200 hours local, tonight. Your mission will be to support a highly classified Delta Force operation by providing a security perimeter around a yet-to-be-designated target location. Your team will be responsible for keeping all civilian traffic away from the area and for stopping anyone who may try to leave the area without authorization. Two Blackhawk helicopters and their pilots will be assigned to transport you and your team once the target has been identified. Beyond that, you will be fully briefed once you get to Moffett.”

  “May I ask how I was selected?” Taylor asked.

  “Director Hammond said that the Delta team leader requested you by name.”

  Taylor felt a thrill tighten his throat at the thought that the FBI director had been asked for his services by someone in an elite position within U.S. Special Operations Command. The problem was, he didn’t know anyone like that.

  Behind him and to his right, someone rapped twice on the door and Linda Colby moved to open it, smiling as she welcomed the person into her office.

  When Linda turned back toward him, the tall woman who stepped up beside her took his breath away.

  “Taylor,” Linda said, “let me introduce you to the person you will be reporting to for the next couple of days, although I believe you have already met. Say hello to Janet Blanchard, the Delta Force team leader for this operation.”