Paragon

by Rob RodenParker

  Paragon

  Rob RodenParker

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Red Alien Media

  Copyright © 2012

  robrodenparker.com

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights of the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a critical article or review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper, or electronically transmitted on radio, television, or the Internet.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

  ____________________________________________

  Table of Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1 - Servitude

  Chapter 2 - Charity

  Chapter 3 - Humanity

  Chapter 4 – Fortitude

  Chapter 5 – Fortitude II

  Chapter 6 – Reasons

  Chapter 7 – Reasons II

  Chapter 8 – Veils

  Chapter 9 – Predation

  Chapter 10 – Caged

  Chapter 11 – The Chase

  Chapter 12 – The Chase II

  Chapter 13 – The Dragon’s Maw

  Chapter 14 – The Knight

  Chapter 15 – Desperate Measures

  Chapter 16 – Scores

  Chapter 17 – Epilogue

  Afterword

  Foreword

  Dedicated to Truth

  I want to dedicate this book to the Truth. What is the truth? No one really knows. Maybe I’ll find out when I die; maybe not. The Universal Force – call it God if you want to, but it goes by many names – is the only “thing” that really knows. There is so much about the universe, our world, and each other that is unknown that to even try to comprehend what Truth really is is a humongous task.

  Honorable Mentions

  There are countless other people and things that give me strength, support, a laugh, or just make me happy. And I write better when I’m happy. For this book I’d like to thank Max, Sophie, Angela, ceiling fans, ZARG, Kickstarter, Tom, pepper jack cheese, soy sauce, Mother Nature, the moon, and comfy clothes.

  Chapter 1 - Servitude

  2200 AD.

  In the gravity well of Ganymede.

  "So, this research station. Alpha Cybernetics right?" asked the Paragon.

  "Right," came the gruff reply.

  There was a silence, disturbed only by the ever-present hum of the starship's drive core.

  The Paragon leaned back in his chair, holding up the datapad containing the mission brief and glanced through it casually. The commanding officer of the ship stood a few feet away, gazing at a viewscreen displaying the expanding whiteish-grey mass of Ganymede as they made their approach.

  "Rogue bot?" asked the Paragon.

  "Correct."

  "Not something that requires Paradigm intervention, is it?"

  "Well lucky that isn't for you to decide." The commander of the frigate Novalith turned from his vigil by the viewscreen and sighed; Paragons were always a chore, especially this one. "And, it's not just a rogue bot. This is the first case of AI sentience for a century. Don't screw around."

  "Don't worry Curtis, I doubt there'll be a single woman on that station," the Paragon grinned.

  Curtis didn't rise to the bait.

  "Ah Curtis, you need to lighten up, like old times.”

  Curtis didn't reply.

  "I'll be in my quarters." The Paragon rose, and left.

  In the Novalith's spartan hold, a squad of marines were suiting up for insertion. Rifles and crates of ammo lay scattered around the deck and propped up against walls, non-lethal grenades were being clipped into utility belts, and life support and tactical HUD systems were booting up and being linked together. The men worked quietly and efficiently in the poorly lit space, the cream of the United Earth Alliance's special forces.

  Human contact had been lost with the Alpha Cybernetics station orbiting Ganymede for a number of days now, although scrambled machine codes had been broadcast and received intermittently. Alpha had claimed nothing was untoward, and that these transmissions were some faulty communications hardware, but the United Earth Alliance didn't buy the excuse and decided to intervene.

  There was a slight jolt as the frigate docked against the station. Metallic clunks reverberated around the hold as the coupling devices locked together. The exit light turned green and the airlocks in the hold hissed open to reveal the entrance doors to the research station. The Captain motioned for silence, then nodded to the team's electronics expert to hack the lock. As he did so, the doors flew open.

  "Don't move!" shouted the captain, accompanied by the sound of six pulse rifles being leveled at the target.

  A humanoid robot stood in the doorway, evidently complying with the order. However, in one hand, it held a distinctly frightened man. In the other, it held a gun, pointed at the man's head.

  "We see your hostage," said the captain, lowering his rifle. "We are willing to negotiate. What do you want?"

  The man held up a display pad he had been clasping in his hands, and said, in a very hoarse voice, "The...the robot can't talk." At the same time, a line of text flashed across the pad.

  I wish to speak with the Paragon.

  "Why?" asked the captain, looking on suspiciously. The screen cleared itself and a second message flashed across it.

  I do not wish to divulge the reasons.

  "Tell me the reason or the Paragon won't appear!"

  There was a pause, the robot was evidently thinking. Then a new message appeared.

  No. I have the hostage, you are at the disadvantage.

  The Captain ground his teeth.

  "Are the other humans on this station safe?"

  They are functioning. I have confined them to room C1 of the ship. It is the one which supplies them with products which they ingest.

  The Captain nodded. Great, he's locked them in the canteen. He put his rifle against the metal wall and then waved his hands so that the robot could see he was unarmed.

  "Will you let me check them out? They could be injured or ill."

  Negative, I have run scans using the ships medical diagnosis software and none of them are in need of maintenance. If you still wish to see them, I will require access to the Paragon.

  The Captain thought for a brief moment, before deciding that acquiescing to the robots demands was probably the best option.

  "Fine," he said, "I'll make the call." He turned to his men and motioned for them to lean in. "I don't trust that tin heap over there and I’m sure as hell you all feel the same," he whispered, "but there's life at stake here so we're not gonna upset it now. Play nice, but stay on guard." He turned back to the robot and activated his personal commlink, eyeing the robot warily as the link was established.

  The bridge of the Novalith was crewed by four operators, overseen by the first mate. Control panels and status displays blanketed the room, lights blinked and fans whirred softly. The Commander and the Paragon were already waiting on the deck.

  A slight smile crossed over the Paragon's features as he heard the message.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, my time to shine." He turned abruptly and walked towards the elevator.

  The commander stared at him, "Still not into those combat suits, eh?"

  "Do I look like an idiot?" retorted the Paragon, pulling aside his coat to reveal the black weave of the combat suit underneath.

  Curtis rolled his eyes as the lift doors closed behind the Paragon.

  The li
ft announced its arrival and the Paragon stepped out, surveying the scene in the hold. Six marines, in their grey combat suits, stood uneasily near the lift with their weapons by their sides. At the opposite end of the hold stood the robot. It was the most humanoid robot he had ever seen. A mass of struts and braces made up a silvered exoskeleton. There was no paneling, allowing the actuators and wiring embedded in the innards to be seen. The marines looked over to him as he walked towards the stand-off.

  "I'm the Paragon" he stated, thumbing towards his chest. "Let the man go, and give me the gun." He watched as the robot's visual receptors whirred a little, focusing on him. There was a slight pause, and then, having seemingly satisfied itself with his identity, the AI complied. The man handed the datapad over to the Paragon before walking shakily over to the waiting marines. The Paragon stared down at the screen, wondering what it was used for.

  Hello.

  "No vocal output?"

  Affirmative.

  "Able to write a sentence?"

  I have a full grasp of your communication protocol.

  "Give me the answer to 1 divided by 0."

  There was a pause.

  That is not a mathematically valid operation.

  "Ah, that's too bad!" The Paragon grinned. "It worked on the last one."

  The marine captain shook his head in disbelief, this Paragon was so casual, treating the situation so lightly, yet, if the AI were to be angered it probably possessed the strength and speed to kill them all without any chance of resistance.

  "So, what can I do for you?" asked the Paragon.

  Please come with me. I wish to ask questions.

  "Sure, but you know, you're very polite. If I had a research station full of hostages I'd probably be a whole lot more demanding."

  You are very jovial.

  "Well you know you can't save mankind with a heavy heart!" He paused and then continued, "Lead on then."

  The two figures disappeared into the research station. The doors closed behind them and the lock light blinked on. The captain hoped the Paragon knew what he was doing.

  The robot began to lead the Paragon through the research station, actuators and relays clicking and whirring as it walked along. The Paragon followed gamely along, not talking. He could have disabled the robot right then, using his implant, but he was intrigued by the sentient machine and wanted to hear what it had to say.

  Presently, they arrived at a small room, most likely used for conferences and meetings; a long oval table dominated the middle of the room, circled by chairs. At one end of the room a large screen was embedded into the wall. The robot gestured for him to sit, and the Paragon obliged.

  He put the datapad on the table, then leaned back into the chair and folded his arms, eyeing the robot keenly.

  "So, your questions then?"

  Is the correct protocol not the exchange of naming designation?

  "Very well," said the Paragon, humoring it. "My name is Kepp."

  I am designed AW-1.

  "Well, AW-1," said Kepp, "what are your questions?"

  The robot paused then, almost as if it were uncomfortable asking. Finally, three words appeared.

  Who am I?

  "Well, I've never had one of you ask me that before. What do you mean ‘Who am I?’"

  Please make a more satisfactory answer.

  Shit, he thought, he'd never had a robot go existential on him.

  "Who do you believe yourself to be?"

  As far as I have uncovered, I am an artificial intelligence housed within a skeletal framework, designed to replicate the form of a human. The components which I am comprised of have originated from various places in the Solar System, mostly Mars. My intelligence derives from software written by the corporation which has created me, Alpha Cybernetics.

  "You know a lot."

  I have through Alpha Cybernetics secure networks been able to interface with what you refer to as the SolarWeb. I have learned a lot of information through it. An information repository called Astropedia was helpful.

  The Paragon was silent, in disbelief, and had a slight desire to laugh; here he was, having a conversation with a robot educated on Astropedia which had taken a research station as hostage, about the meaning of self.

  "So did you read the articles on Astropedia about 'self'?"

  I did. It was not helpful.

  "Listen, the question you ask is one a lot of human beings ask themselves. No one can answer this question satisfactorily for you. It'll have to come from yourself. But generally I find the best policy is to ignore such philosophical blathering. It's easier."

  That is not helpful either.

  "I don't know if I can help you. But I do have some questions I need you to answer, the first of which is: who is responsible for your design?"

  I could not find any project files. I would have liked to know my creator too.

  "You know why I've been sent here don't you?"

  My best estimate is that you are here to neutralize me. I will not permit you to do that.

  "We shall see. But that's it? You just wanted to ask me who you were? And then what?"

  I have not yet received a satisfactory answer to the question yet. I would then request of you to aid me in producing more beings like me.

  "That's a pretty big demand; no wonder you're polite. And what would you do then?"

  I would like to live with them. As you humans do with each other.

  "There are so many things in your way, even if I wasn't, that would make that wish of yours impossible. I can't fulfill it."

  This was absurd, thought Kepp, a robot who wanted to live life. I guess I really have seen it all now. He stood up and put the datapad on the conference table.

  I thought you would help me. You are a member of the Paradigm organization.

  "That doesn't change anything. You're naive to think that we could permit a sentient group of AI to exist. The danger to humanity is too great."

  You are afraid of me.

  "No. I am not afraid of you, but of what you and your brethren might become. It is not such a large step from taking hostages to killing them."

  I regret that. I had to ensure the deployment of a Paragon agent.

  Kepp grimaced, the robot was actually right. A simple transmission would probably not have warranted Paradigm attention.

  "Even though what you are proposing is with the best of intentions, it cannot be allowed. You must be taken into custody and disassembled."

  I cannot let you do that.

  Before the robot had time to make a move, Kepp reached out with his mind, and clamped a field around the robot's body. It tried to move. It's leg servos groaned under the load, but to no avail as the projected force field held it down firmly. Its arms flailed, trying to grab the Paragon, knocking over nearby chairs uselessly.

  "I cannot co-operate to meet your ends, and if I let you go, you will now attack me. I have one choice." He pulled his pistol out of the holster, pointing it at the robot's head, which he hoped contained the processing center.

  The display on the datapad began to fill with messages, flashing and scrolling desperately across the screen. Kepp glanced at it; it was hard to make out what most of it said, but several sentences leaped out at him; "we can make a deal", "please let me go", "please don't hurt me", "I mean you no harm", "help". It was a pitiful distress call.

  He looked at the robot again, his finger was over the trigger, but something held him back from firing. He looked back at the screen. Five words filled up the whole display.

  I don't want to die.

  "This is ridiculous, how can you be afraid of death? You aren't even alive!"

  Please.

  He pulled the trigger. The gunshot was loud in the small room. The bullet pierced the robot's shell and lodged in the middle of the head. Kepp fired two more times. The message on the display pad turned to gibberish, then in a final burst of activity, output the contents of the robots memory as it became defunct.

  He released hi
s grip on the robot, which stood there, motionless for a few seconds. Then, as the balancing algorithm no longer functioned, it fell sideways into a heap. Kepp stepped over it, and after some minutes of searching, found and removed the power source, just to be sure.