The Extinction Files Box Set

by A. G. Riddle

  He was losing them, he could see it. He rubbed his eyebrows. He really wanted to take a nap.

  “Existing computers use silicon, integrated circuits, and microprocessors. Quantum computers use quantum mechanics—they operate on the particles that are already here in the universe.”

  “And you developed a quantum computer?” Avery asked.

  “Yes. Quantum computing has been theorized since the early eighties. The problem with building one has always been decoherence.”

  “Hughes,” Ward grumbled, “I’m putting a moratorium on new words.”

  “Call it interference then. The problem with using subatomic particles as a storage medium is that they are in a constant state of flux—the universe is constantly interacting with them. That interference corrupts the superpositions of the qubits.” Desmond spoke quickly, sensing another Ward blow-up. “Look, have you ever run a strong magnet over a hard drive? If so, you know that it erases it. That’s what we had to deal with—it’s as if the universe is essentially passing a magnet over our quantum computer constantly, scrambling our data within nanoseconds. We tried cooling the machine, but to operate it for any reasonable amount of time, we needed true shielding. That was the breakthrough at Rook Quantum Sciences.”

  “Rook,” Avery said. “The quantum computer is Rook?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the pandemic was Rapture,” Peyton said.

  “No, not the pandemic,” Desmond said. “That was never part of the plan. The cure is Rapture. The focus at Rapture Therapeutics was always understanding the mind and developing ways to analyze and control brain function. That’s what the original implants were about—that was what drew me to the company. I wanted it for PTSD and depression. The pandemic…” He looked at Ward, though it was Avery he was really speaking to. “I didn’t know about that.”

  Ward said nothing. Avery’s expression was a mask.

  With a sigh, Desmond continued. “Rapture’s research on PTSD and depression was real, but they were using that data in conjunction with other research for a larger goal: creating an implant that could successfully transfer a mind to Rook. A goal it achieved. However, once we created a working Rook transfer implant, the real challenge became clear: the population would never allow us to put implants in their brains. And besides, that would be too time-consuming and fraught with medical accidents and deaths. The nanorobots were our solution.”

  “The ones that cured the pathogen,” Peyton said.

  “Yes, but that was added later. Again, I was never told that would happen. The nanites’ primary purpose is to migrate to the brain and transmit the data and quantum states to Rook—essentially transferring the human consciousnesses to Rook. The bodies left behind… well… they were to be euthanized after.”

  Stunned silence followed.

  Finally Ward said, “This can’t be happening.”

  “It is happening,” Lin said. “You saw the monitors back at the airport. Millions have already been transferred to Rook.”

  “But it wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” Desmond said. “The plan was always to let people choose to enter the Looking Glass. But Yuri and Conner were too scared.”

  A defensiveness had entered his tone, and Peyton must have sensed it. “Tell us how it was supposed to work,” she said softly.

  Desmond nodded gratefully. “We were going to do a presentation—online and on TV. Tell everyone the truth—what the Beagle had found, our own research. The Looking Glass was going to be optional, the transfer gradual. We were going to start with vulnerable populations—anyone whose mind was weakened or at risk. Mentally ill. Patients with Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s, and dementia. They were the key to testing Rook at scale.”

  A flicker of fear went through Avery’s eyes. “Those people, the millions that have died, they had brain disorders?”

  “If Yuri is still following that aspect of the plan.”

  “Where—” Avery stopped, thought a second. “What happened to them?”

  “They’re in Rook. Waiting.”

  “For what? What does it even mean to be ‘in Rook’? Are they alive? Aware?”

  “They’re waiting for Rendition. Without Rendition, they are simply data in the machine. Alive, I guess. More like in stasis. Unaware. Rendition simulates reality—allows them to live again.”

  Avery put her face in her hands. “My God. This is the end of the human race.”

  “On the contrary,” Lin said. “It’s merely a step in an endless cycle. It’s happened countless times before, and it will happen countless times after this.”

  Chapter 72

  Peyton looked Desmond in the eyes. She finally understood now. “That’s why you hid Rendition. Without it, all Yuri and Conner can do is transfer and store the minds of everyone who received the Rapture nanites.”

  “That’s right. It was my only play.”

  “Explain Rendition to us,” Ward said. “How does it work, what exactly does it do?”

  “I used Rendition Games as a front,” Desmond said. “On the surface, it was a virtual reality gaming company. That allowed me to recruit the right programmers. I picked out the most talented ones, and told them the truth: we were creating a virtual reality program—an incredibly realistic one, one that could simulate not just sight and sound but everything—that would run on a quantum computer. We used Rapture’s brain-mapping data to simulate smell, taste, pain, pleasure. Everything.”

  Desmond paused. “And I used Rendition to regain my memories.” He turned to Avery. “After I got you assigned to the Kentaro Maru, I contacted a scientist at Rapture Therapeutics, Manfred Jung. He led the Rapture research into memory archiving. I asked him if, in addition to transferring memories out, the Rapture implant in my brain could be used to receive memories and re-integrate them. He thought it was possible, though risky.”

  “And you used the Labyrinth Reality app as a transfer mechanism.”

  “That’s right.”

  “If we destroy Rendition,” Ward said, “it’s all over, right? No more Looking Glass.”

  “Yes and no,” Desmond said. “It’ll set back the Looking Glass—years, at least. Maybe much more. But it’s not ‘all over.’ The nanites have already been distributed, and Conner and Yuri have obviously re-created the control program for Rapture. That gives them instant ‘assassination power’ over almost every human on Earth. They can upload to Rook anyone who has the Rapture nanites in their body—assuming that person has an internet connection in range.”

  Peyton looked at her mother. “That’s why you told us to deactivate our phones.”

  Lin nodded.

  “But why would they transfer people to Rook,” Avery asked, “if they don’t have Rendition?”

  “Clearly they’re very confident they’re going to get it. Without Rendition, Rook is useless.”

  “What about the balloons we saw?” Peyton asked. “What are they?”

  “A solution to the rural internet problem,” Desmond said. “Although I never thought it would be used to transfer minds to Rook. We just wanted to bring the world together—to educate people about the Looking Glass.” He glanced at Avery. “It was one of the reasons I was interested in CityForge. Creating cities—and internet infrastructure—in the third world is imperative.

  “The balloon implementation is based largely on Google’s Project Loon. If I’m right, the balloons will circle the Earth, picking up anyone who’s out of range of any other internet-enabled devices. The fact that Yuri has deployed them tells us he’s planning on a full-scale transfer soon. I expect he’ll do a small cohort first to ensure that Rook is operating correctly, then he’ll scale up.”

  Peyton said, “I guess it’s safe to assume Yuri won’t upload himself or any of his critical personnel until he has Rendition.”

  “I think so.” He thought a moment, then looked at Lin. “You were right, what you told me that night: the Looking Glass is inevitable; only one thing can change—who controls it.”

&nb
sp; “That needs to be us,” Ward said. “So our goal is clear: we destroy Rendition and kill Yuri.”

  Up until now, Avery had seemed to recede within herself, her thoughts elsewhere. But now she looked up, eyes wide with alarm.

  “If Rendition is destroyed… the minds in Rook, what happens to them?”

  “Nothing,” Desmond replied. “It’s like data on a hard drive with no operating system. They are dead forever.”

  Ward exhaled heavily. “Our duty now is to the living.” He looked at Avery. “We are going to kill Yuri and destroy Rendition.”

  Lin’s voice broke the silence. “That’s not quite enough, is it, Desmond?”

  His eyebrows knitted together.

  “Yuri isn’t the only threat,” she continued. “He’s not the only one who orchestrated the pandemic, is he?”

  Desmond grimaced and shook his head.

  Lin turned to Ward. “Conner must be dealt with. As long as he’s alive, the Citium will be a threat.”

  Chapter 73

  When the plane’s door opened, Conner inhaled the fresh air. He felt like he had been on the jet for days. The sun was warm on his face and the smell of salt water wafted in the air. It was seventy-seven degrees in Buenos Aires, with not a cloud in the sky. After the cold, damp, overcast weather of the Bay Area in December, summer in the Southern Hemisphere was a welcome change.

  Yuri was waiting in the terminal. He embraced Conner, then rested both hands on the younger man’s shoulders. “Our day is here.”

  “The first cohort?”

  “Stored flawlessly. We’re proceeding with phase two.”

  Conner nodded. He had always been nervous about the go-live moment for Rook. Despite all the simulations and stress tests, there was truly no way to know if the machine could support millions of minds. Or billions.

  “What’s our count?”

  “A hundred million and climbing.”

  “The balloons?”

  “Are deployed. We lost a few to weather. A dozen shot down before we got control of governments.” Yuri turned and led Conner to an airport lounge, where a scanner was waiting. “No matter. We still have enough to complete the transfer. We can always mop up with the drones.” He held his hand out, palm up. “One last backup before. Just in case.”

  That was prudent. Danger awaited in Antarctica. Conner slipped into the machine and closed his eyes.

  They boarded the plane thirty minutes later, and Yuri instructed the pilot to begin takeoff. In the cabin, he sat across from Conner.

  “You know what we have to do.”

  Conner knew what Yuri was asking him. He couldn’t bring himself to think it, much less utter the words. Instead, he said, “Get Rendition and get out.”

  “He’ll never stop. You know that. Neither will Lin Shaw.”

  Conner gazed out the window at the runway passing by, faster each second. “I can’t kill my brother.”

  Sadness crept into Yuri’s eyes. “I’d never ask you to.”

  “What are you asking me?”

  “Not to stop me.”

  Chapter 74

  As the plane turned east and flew over the Andes, everyone on board was trying to sleep—or pretending to sleep. They were all worrying about the same thing, and thinking very different thoughts.

  Desmond was thinking about what Lin had said: that Conner would have to die. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t. But what would be the cost of that?

  Peyton’s life? The rest of the world?

  He knew it then: he couldn’t lose her again. Or his brother.

  Peyton was trying to wrap her head around what she had heard. The Looking Glass was like a universe inside a universe—if she understood it correctly. What she had read in her father’s writings finally made sense. He had said that after World War Two, the Citium had focused on creating a device that would answer their deepest questions—and make humanity safe from itself. The Looking Glass accomplished both. With Rendition, any catastrophe or war could simply be edited out—like removing a scene from a movie.

  What she didn’t understand was how her mother’s device—the Rabbit Hole—was connected. How could a particle accelerator fit in with any of this?

  She was sure of only one thing—her mother was still hiding something.

  Lin Shaw saw all the pieces, and they were exactly where she wanted them. There was only one variable she couldn’t factor in: Avery Price. The young woman had surprised her once. And she sensed that during the discussion, she had held something back.

  Lin remembered something then—from Avery’s initial job interview at Phaethon Genetics. It could be the key to controlling her—if it wasn’t a lie.

  Avery stared through the windshield, thinking about her father. If what Lin and Desmond had said was true, he was dead—or his body was. And his consciousness was inside Rook, in a sort of digital purgatory. Not alive, not dead.

  Over the past few years, she had watched him slip away, little by little, as if his consciousness was being uploaded slowly, a shell left behind, the body alive but the mind gone. She wished now that she had spent more time with him. But she had dedicated her life to stopping the Citium and the Looking Glass.

  Now was her only chance of seeing him again.

  “Hey.”

  She jumped at the sound of Ward’s voice.

  He shushed her and closed the cockpit door.

  “You scared me.”

  “Sorry.” He plopped down beside her. “We need to talk.”

  “About?”

  “You know what about. I don’t buy that line they just fed us.”

  Avery squinted. “Which part?”

  “The part about ‘We can’t stop the Looking Glass.’”

  “We can?”

  “Of course. Lin Shaw is playing us. She’s got her daughter wrapped around her finger, and who knows what Desmond Hughes is thinking.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Ward broke eye contact. “When we get there, we destroy Rendition first. Then we take out everyone who can re-create it.”

  Desmond. Avery couldn’t look at her boss.

  “You understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you remember what I asked you, Agent?” Ward was staring at her now. “I asked you if Hughes had a gun to my head, if you would shoot him.”

  “And I said I would shoot him in the shoulder and kick you in the balls.”

  “Be serious, Avery. He’s got a gun to the head of every person on Earth. I know you love him. But you took an oath.”

  “We can do this without killing him.”

  “Maybe. But maybe not. I’m asking you right now—can you do it? I need to know.”

  Avery swallowed. “What’s your plan?”

  “Destroy Rendition. Take out its creators. Then we take Yuri and/or Conner. Interrogate them, figure out where Rapture Control and Rook are. We storm the beaches. Destroy both. Then the Looking Glass threat is over, the world goes back to normal, and everyone lives—and I mean flesh-and-blood life, not this upload to the quantum computer hocus pocus.”

  Avery knew this decision would change her life forever.

  “This is what we signed up for, Agent. Sacrifice. The hardest part isn’t giving your life for the cause, it’s knowing what your sacrifice and decisions will do to those you love. Seeing it. That’s the full price. The cost of being selfish is higher. Millions—no, billions of people are counting on us. We are the last line. No one will protect them. Not Yuri, or Conner, or Lin. It has to be us, here, now. I need to know if you’re with me. Will you help me finish this? Will you do what you signed up to do?”

  “I’ll do whatever I have to.”

  Chapter 75

  The airport at Mar del Plata was deserted. The planes were mostly gone. Those that were left looked old and broken down.

  They found fuel though, and Avery and Ward stood guard while Peyton and Desmond connected the hose and operated the pump. Lin Shaw slept through the landing and the ent
ire operation.

  As they were taking off, Desmond wondered how anyone could sleep at a time like this. Unless she already knew what was going to happen.

  The frozen continent was breathtaking. The ice below glittered like a sea of diamonds. As they descended, a long white habitat stretched out like a caterpillar crawling across a white desert. The runway was nothing more than hard-packed ice, an indentation barely noticeable from the air.

  Desmond moved to the cockpit and pointed it out to Avery. “Is this going to be a problem?” he asked.

  “I’ve landed on worse.”

  And she had—Desmond had witnessed it. He had supreme confidence in her. What he wasn’t sure about was how things would turn out after they landed. He felt as though he were about to go over Niagara Falls in a barrel. The edge was looming, everything beyond uncertain and dangerous and unavoidable.

  The building that ran along the runway was shaped like a greenhouse with a field of solar cells nearby. The inside held barracks for the construction crew, living quarters, and supplies and equipment that couldn’t stand the elements. Beside it, Charter Antarctica’s fleet of snow vehicles sat idle. There were three snowmobiles and three PistenBully 300 Polar snowcats—large machines with tracks and instruments for moving ice and equipment. Each of the snowcats could be fitted with a pushing blade like a bulldozer, or a transportation bucket similar to a loader; one of them was already fitted with a radio-controlled hydraulic crane. The company had bought four of these large snow machines—so one of them was gone. Probably just left at the ice hotel.

  The sun glared off the ice as they landed. The date was December 23—the summer solstice in the Southern Hemisphere—and the sun was at its zenith: 23.5 degrees in the sky. Every day after, it would descend toward the horizon until it finally set in March, during the vernal equinox. Darkness twenty-four hours a day would follow—for six months—until the sun rose once more in September, for the only time that year.