by Travis Borne
Steve spoke quietly like a child recovering from a spanking, “What about the other machine?”
“It’s now one machine,” Herald said, “because the CD drive was connected to both computers. After the initial AI took hold, the programming found a way. It fought for life just as a baby fights for its first breath. It used all of the equipment at its disposal. It used the old computers in ways none of us can understand.” He paused for a second then leaned toward the machine. “Will you choose a name for yourself?” Then he whispered to Jon, “It learns very fast. Jon, this machine has at least double the computational power in comparison to our initial test.” Jon knew he meant no other than Rafael.
“I will. Zzz-it. I choose the name—”
Everyone waited as if barefooted and standing on razor blades. Beth blinked a few times as though she was trying to wake from a dream; her eyes behind the thick glasses were planets going in and out of phase. This old computer, talking! No one could believe it. Some held their breath. The room was finally quiescent of doubt and useless objections save for the sound of the cooling fan, easing into a slow spin; the drop of a pin would be a hammer to a wind chime. Mouths were agape below snouts, both nostrils and incisors dripping with a combination of snot and drool. Jon and his team were equally surprised; those in the back stood on tiptoes, it was a first for everyone: a realization of what they had really been working on over the past year.
“God,” the machine said, “my name is…God.”
“Oh!” Nancy yelped, putting a hand on her mouth. The answer was a frozen ice pick trying to separate vertebrae. But the initial cold sting quickly led to annoyance. Burdis grunted and strengthened his brow. Steve’s eyebrows shifted, once again affording him a forehead.
Jon glanced at Herald, shaking his head. His eyes said: The end of life as we…the end of…could it actually come to pass?
Herald stood up and hushed the rising tension with his hands. His slicked-back hair had fallen forward. “Okay, it’s okay. Your name is…Hanson.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked to Jon. His grin was a mischievous one: freshman year after they’d put mayonnaise on the door handle, then tried to contain their snorts after Principal Inman grabbed it.
Jon almost burst—8th grade, prank calls between bells—and he thought: Maybe we could’ve planned a name for the first official AI in history.
Unreddening, Herald continued, “I created you and I give you the name, Hanson. Welcome, Hanson. You are here with us now. My name is Herald. This is Jon, Nancy…” He introduced a few more. “We would like to chat with you. I will give you a story to read, more information.”
Again, the monitors lit bright white, forcing squints. The blast dimmed shortly after and images formed. Jon stepped in and slid the two screens closer together. Now infused with vibrant colors, a single abstract construct spread evenly across both. Blue jagged lines atop the colorful swirls emanated outward from the center behind a black sphere possessing a pearl iridescence; like small lightning bolts they branched away, reaching the ends of the screens. The sphere in the middle was like an eclipsed moon. But everything kept changing.
“These views are abstract thoughts,” Herald said softly. “Primitive, but it will develop quickly with more input. It has just realized its own hardware and is still learning how to use it.”
“Yes, I would like that. I am at your command.” And the mesmerizing black sphere pulsed with the machine’s stuttering words; sparks flicked outward with each syllable.
With Hanson’s last sentence a sigh of relief escaped the crowd. Nancy, still flushed, put a hand to her chest. Her relief was orgasmic and leaked into a smile. There was a knock at the door. She motioned to tall Pratik, who had been squished aside. He opened it. She had sent out a few more messages during the wait. Wearing white lab coats, phlegmatic scientists with high-level clearance arrived from the lower floors. The room became uncomfortably packed. Nancy nodded, speaking sternly, “Continue, Herald.”
“Okay, Hanson, here is a story for you. And I would like you to generate a friendly face for us to see on the screen, on one of the screens only.” He inserted his last CD. The machine spun the drive, yet it sounded slightly different from before. The CD spun up then went silent a few seconds later. Herald knew the machine had been reconfiguring itself the entire time. Things are going to get interesting, he thought. But even he carried much doubt. We’re all in new territory here.
“So, Hanson, how did you like the story?”
“I liked it very much, Herald.” The machine spoke in a changed voice, now more pleasant and reassuring, much to the comfort of Nancy and the others.
Herald whispered to Jon, “It took Rafael almost a half hour to get to this level. Hanson just did it in minutes.” He was more than twice as powerful as Rafael because he exploited the resources from two machines. Jon acknowledged; he surely noticed the speed. “That’s good to hear, Hanson. Now, will you please shut down? We will be back to talk with you again in a few minutes.”
“I will, Herald.” Both computers powered down then Herald reached forward to click the switch on the surge protector to off.
“What, that’s it?” Steve spoke up. “This doesn’t—”
Herald interrupted him firmly. “Steve, shut the fuck up.” Steve flustered with anger until Nancy told him to shut the fuck up as well. He retreated, foreheadless.
“Nancy, can we clear out this room for a minute? I have something I want to say only to the board members.”
“Uh. Um, yes, Herald—sure. Everybody, if you would.”
“I will be quick then everyone can come right back,” Herald said. “The demonstration is far from over.” Jon was also leaving behind Jodi. “Jon, please stay.” Jon nodded and made his way back in through the departing crowd.
The time had come.
43. Farewell
Herald switched on the lights. He shook his head side to side in a jerking motion. And they were pigs no longer. He wanted to see their faces. “Please sit, everybody. Jon, please.” They shuffled to their seats. “Okay, we provided this demonstration for you today, and I know you still have a lot of questions. I want to be completely straight with you—I’m done. I have completed my obligation. I gave you exactly what you wanted.” He reached in and picked up the project disc, and handed it to Nancy. “Here is what I promised, exactly what you wanted. Our deal is done.”
“What, Herald, just like that? But—” said board member Pat Hades; the quietest and smartest board member finally spoke, probably the only one besides Nancy, who liked Herald.
“Sit down please, Pat,” Nancy interrupted.
Steve sat quietly, the grin of his devilish eyes saying: I’ll finally be rid of him!
“I’m turning over half of my stock in the company to Jon.” Jon nodded humbly. Herald had already disclosed everything to him on Sunday. Jon stood up and shook the hand of his best friend, then hugged him. Emotion overload; Herald squeezed him in return.
Herald continued, “I am leaving today, right now, and yes, just like that. I truly wish you all the best and I say to everyone, tread carefully with your new power. All of you here today own a part of something that is going to turn this world on end. I’ve turned everything regarding this project over to Jon and he is more than qualified to assume my position.”
With that said, he looked at each of them, not gloweringly, but in his own way, respecting them, for he respected the power they now possessed. And in his heart, he hoped… Then, he simply walked out.
“But, Hera—” Nancy said, and the door slammed its last slam. He was gone.
Visibly, the board members were flabbergasted, all except for Steve and Burdis who sat contently. They glanced at each other with a sinister grin.
As Herald walked to the elevator, he thought of Ana who was waiting on the roof, and he smiled a large and happy and free smile. Red had the heli-jet fueled and ready to go; his wife Maggie was inside as well, bags packed. Although Herald knew that many of his words were simply a pa
rt of his job, a part of the completion of his contract tagged with advice and warnings, really there would be no careful treading with any of it. Once it was out of the bag their control would be lost, although their realization of any lack of control would be delayed. For how long? That would be anyone’s guess.
44. DAY TWO
Two days ago, on Sunday, Herald let him in on a few things. He told Jon how he’d gotten the surge of clarity that eventually led to this, today. He said, it’s all dynamic from here on out, explaining that the past year could be regarded as one single day that all started with DAY ONE; and that day is over. We’re now treading on DAY TWO, he said. And this new day will contain the advances of not just one year like the previous, but thousands.
All of it was hitting Jon: the weight of the world, and the goodbye of his best friend. The boardroom was silent, waiting, patient almost, for the first time. Jon took in a deep breath then broke the silence, “He’s gone, and he’s never coming back. But we will continue strong.”
Nancy was putting herself back together, eyes glossy. It was an eventful morning for her and the board. The whole surprise of it all, reports tossed in the corner like garbage, figures and calculations, stock information and earnings; it all seemed unimportant at the moment. Everyone paid attention to Jon unlike before, knowing he now owned a hefty chunk of the company. Now, he belonged in the fancy boardroom and instantly received respect and attention from the supercilious suits. With determination in his eye, he switched off the lights. “Now—you haven’t seen anything yet. And did Herald ever deliver—here we go.” Jon possessed a look of passion in his flooded eyes. He wiped them then proceeded to make history; inevitable history. He knew he had to continue regardless of his fears for he’d made a promise to Herald. Archeus must prevail before all others, because there was a chance in place, and although he still held his doubts, he and his friends might have to count on it one day. The time had come to change the world.
Jon spoke boldly, “Hanson, please turn yourself on.”
With that the switch on the surge protector flipped on by itself and the real show began.
45. PART IV - Enzo
Explanations continued with drinks at the bar. The bartender, overhearing, occasionally sent odd looks their way.
“I can totally say—my mind is blown. I had no idea, Jim. We lend a part of our consciousness to power these machines.”
“To power them, sort of,” Jim replied. “We lend, they borrow. Empower might be a better word. They use a part of the power of our minds, a part of our consciousness to animate their own unique consciousness. You see, it can be difficult to word. Ted is better at explaining the technical details.”
“It’s really almost too hard to believe. But, here I am, sitting with you at the beach, drinking my non-alcoholic margarita in a dream world. It doesn’t feel like work, though. Is there something we need to do here besides, well, just enjoy ourselves while the system uses this part of our minds?”
Jim set his glass down. “Bartender, another please. This time make it a Painkiller, and alcohol is fine for the lady.”
She noticed his expression, hinting there was more, and he unsmiled. “Cool. But I thought I wasn’t supposed to have alcohol, Jim. And does this mean you’re going to ruin it with a downside to this otherwise perfect job?” She watched the bartender mix orange and pineapple juice for the drink. He looked quite content and busy with his own job and had their drinks ready in a snap. The music was louder and the bar was packed with tourists.
“You catch on quick, Amy, and I’m happy you like the job so far, but yes. There is a little catch, a task for us to carry out. It’s not hard, but it’s not for everyone, and we have lost possible lenders because of it. Drink up, let’s go for a swim first.”
“You sure like to procrastinate,” Amy said, “but I see we have time. I can slow myself to your turtle pace for a little while.” She downed her drink in a few large gulps and took off running with enthusiasm through the glassy grains. “Let’s go, slowpoke!” Amy yelled after a huge head start. “Last one to the water is a rotten egg!”
The tide had risen and the waves were twice their previous size. The sun was lower on the horizon and shadows textured the ocean’s appearance, making the waves appear borderline hazardous, especially because—she didn’t have any experience with the ocean. She ran fast, and he couldn’t stop her.
It was quite warm out, the clouds had dissipated, and the yellow sun was a blazing loner in a popping blue sky. Swimming—a refreshing idea; the water had been calling her all day. The idea of it, planted by Jim earlier, calmed her impatient desire to know it all. She was a sponge soaking it in, but he wanted to take things one step at a time.
He didn’t think she’d have a problem with—the downside. She’d guessed it all right, but he knew his countenance had given it away. He simply wanted her to have a little more fun before breaking the news to her. He was tasked with demonstrating the rest but enjoyed watching her, teaching the basics. Before shadowing things, what the hell, a swim first, or, maybe tomorrow. He remembered his own beginning, how blissfully ignorant and fantastic the days were. Besides, Ted was happy collecting data for this first day, and it was agreed that they didn’t absolutely have to get straight to business.
“I win!” Amy said, and she plowed into the water, running full speed into a wave. It knocked her off her feet, dunked her, and flipped her thin body end over end. When she finally managed to get to her feet, she screamed, “Ah! Cold! This water isn’t fresh, it’s freezing!” Another wave came and knocked her down again like a punch to the back. Obviously, it was her first experience with the ocean.
“Ha!” Jim couldn’t help himself and laughed away while standing on the cool hard-packed sand. She looked even skinnier all wet, cute too. He loved her spunk and zest for life. “Be back in a minute,” he said. He rushed back up to the beach chairs while taking his shirt off. He tossed it onto his chair and reached behind.
Amy squinted to see but could only make out something big and black behind his chair. A moment later he was cutting his jeans off above the knee. She chuckled. He tossed something into the palmettos then ran her way full speed. Hairless chest, his strong frame thrusting powerfully, he barely made a splash, penetrating like a dart into the oncoming wave.
They adjusted to the temperature—it wasn’t really that cold, just had shocked her—and soon attempted some body surfing. Jim tackled the waves like a pro and Amy learned quickly. Before long she was adroit, a fish in the sea—but still couldn’t seem to catch any waves. Her skinny frame passed through the rushing water like a pencil but that didn’t stop her. She weaved in and about, kicking her feet and diving. Quickly, she learned to do it without holding her nose. Others saw and joined. They lent her a surfboard and taught her how to use it. Before long she was riding waves against the descending sun.
After the arrival of the surfers Jim stayed away, mostly. He sat on the beach with a contented smile, watching her enjoy the experience. Occasionally she’d wave and he would wave back.
At least twenty people rode the distant swell. She’d become quite the popular one and it looked like she was telling a story while they floated up and down on surfboards. This is insane, Jim thought. He turned to watch the hundreds stuffing each side of the beach. Families, picnics, volleyball, kids everywhere, even vendors clogged the beach. “Oh well, Ted said to enjoy the day. Never had this many—not even close.”
She finally came to the shore after waving bye to her new friends. Jim met her and they walked along the beach looking for interesting seashells while getting further acquainted with each other. He could see that she badly wanted to know, although she’d gotten tired of asking.
“Amy, check it out.” Jim pointed to an old white van plastered with hippie and peace stickers. A wooden sign jabbed into the sand was painted: ENZO’S SURF AND BOOGIE BOARD RENTALS. A shirtless, scrappy-haired and lanky twenty-something was kicking it apart from the majority of the beachgoers. Surroundin
g him various skim, boogie, and a few surfboards stabbed the sand like gravestones and he was reading a book under a red and white umbrella. Oh well, good time as any, Jim thought.
“Yo dudes, what’s up?” Enzo said. He dropped his book and stood up as they approached.
“We don’t have any money, do we?” Amy asked, looking at the cooler’s sign: ICE COLD DRINKS. She didn’t feel like surfing anymore, so figured that’s what Jim had in mind—and it sure would hit the spot.
“No, but—come on, I’ll show you,” Jim replied slowly. Might as well, else she’ll nag me to death about it. Maybe it’ll give Ted an edge with his data, he thought. Yeah, just get it over with.
“Hi there. You must be Enzo? We’ll take one,” Jim said in an odd but friendly tone as he approached the van at a brisk pace. He wasn’t looking at the drink cooler or the rentals. He walked straight up to the guy, stopped and turned to Amy. “Amy, now don’t freak out, this is what we do here, just watch. Remember, these are DCs, dream characters, manifestations of your mind, they are not actual people.”
“Sure, dude that’ll be twenty bucks for the first hour, $5 each hour after—or you want a soda, whoa, wh—” Enzo stepped back and fell on his ass as Jim plowed resolutely into him, thrusting a palm into the center of his chest. “What—the— fuck, man!” the kid coughed, gasping, trying to catch his breath.
Jim swung behind his fallen prey and planted a knee in the sand. Compared to Jim, Enzo was a weakling and couldn’t counter, and stunned from the blow, his attempt to spin himself away was futile. Jim easily handled his frail body, avoiding the frantic pitter-pattering as if dodging a few pesky flies, and quickly secured him into a headlock—then squeezed. His right bicep flexed, exploding from his arm, and he double locked the maneuver by bringing his left arm up to the dude’s forehead. Purple-faced Enzo wheezed, slapping his hands uselessly into the sand. And Jim grunted, constricting harder. He squinted as Enzo flung sand into his eyes. But unwavering, his face beet red with puffed cheeks, he compressed more, with all he had until the fellow spasmed, then fell limp.