The Power of the Dhin

by John L. Clemmer

  The CoSec representative scowled at Josef and said, “Aggression by any other name, Krawczuk. Your evasiveness, self-interest, and treatment of this situation as a game played no small part in this. We’ll send you right back to solitary if you can’t provide actionable intelligence going forward!”

  “No need for aggression on your part either, Agent,” replied Josef smoothly. He leaned back in his chair and turned to show complete attention to the PM.

  “Fine, Krawczuk. As we’ve said, stay on topic. No bargaining. Not now. We ask. You divulge. First item today, is there any chance that triggers remain in the AI’s code? Ones you inserted? We’ve been through this before, but I feel we have to ask again. Second, you’ve given us the entire list? Held nothing back?”

  “Well,” said Josef, “I believe we’ll want to engage an artificial intelligence expert to help determine the answer to the first question. I only know so much about the underlying computer science. As to the second question: yes, you have the entire list. I will say that simply trying the triggers against Nick would be extremely reckless.”

  “Why is that?” asked the man from CoSec with a scowl.

  “Nick will recognize what you are doing immediately. You already have a low chance of it working. If it doesn’t work on the first attempt, the chances diminish to nothing, essentially. When the AI determines that there’s a threat, even if he hasn’t expunged the safeguards from his code previously—which is likely—he will immediately focus on doing so. With the resources the AI now has available, you should suspect he would succeed very quickly. If for some reason he has difficulty in removing the offending code, he would no doubt engage in active defense and cause further disruption on Globalnet to stymie your efforts. This is my understanding of it. Don’t take my word for it—ask an artificial intelligence expert.”

  “We definitely will.”

  “What else do you have for us?” asked the PM. Josef saw her frustration increasing as the likely hopeless situation grew more real for her.

  “Well, there is another option open to you. One guaranteed to resolve the conflict. One I’m certain you’ve had in the backs of your minds, even though you might not have recognized it as viable.”

  “And what’s that? And why wouldn’t you have offered it before now?”

  “Ahh, I don’t believe you’ll recognize it as an option. Certainly you would not have initially.”

  “Spit it out, Krawczuk,” said the PM.

  “Capitulate. Let the AI win.”

  “What? Ridiculous!” barked the CoSec manager, losing his cool and throwing his hands up.

  “It may seem so,” replied Krawczuk, “but perhaps you can recognize the inevitability of this course of action. Nick had a high chance of success from the very beginning. You were outmatched from the start.”

  “Outmatched? The resources of the Coalition and CoSec against a single AI?”

  “Exactly. Without an AI on your side, the odds were in Nick’s favor from the start. There was probably a small window of opportunity where a stalemate was possible.”

  Josef watched as the PM clenched her fists, trying to maintain composure.

  “So,” she said, “you’re suggesting that we let a rogue AI take over. Let him win. Give in to him.”

  “It will save resources, end the disruptions, and so forth. It’s worth reviewing all this with the experts in the field. Perhaps those with the true expertise have other stratagems of which I’m not aware.”

  “We’ll see,” muttered the PM. “We’ll see about that. This isn’t a foregone conclusion. We won’t give up yet. We mustn’t.”

  “Other options are rather more disruptive. In my opinion. Are you willing to disrupt all of Globalnet? Create problems beyond those seen with the Departure? Think of the shock to the economy. The shock to infrastructure. How far are you willing to go, Prime Minister?”

  “We’ve seen what he’s capable of, Krawczuk. Just trusting ourselves to that thing—no one in leadership is going to accept that. I can’t see it. The Coalition members would stage a coup possibly. We’d have internal conflict that would wreck what you’re suggesting! The military won’t agree—so what then? Even if—if we just let him take over? I’m supposed to start taking direction and advice from him? From a rogue AI? Have him here? Right here, working in these offices?”

  “Yes, that’s the eventual scenario, I’d expect,” said Krawczuk.

  The PM tapped a code into her pad and snapped out, “Get me Eisenberg! ASAP.”

  9

  Esus

  The new star field faded into view as the ships decelerated from their leap across orthogonal dimensions into the new system. Kepler-442. Esus sent status updates in rapid bursts back to the Mesh via N-vector transmissions. Scans and updates on the present state of the system they’d arrived in would take time to collect and process.

  Exploratory craft launched from their bays along the larger carrier, where Esus’s mind held presence. Even the smallest had Dhin engines and accelerated away from the main craft like a swarm of metal insects, zipping off deeper into the system. Validation of the composition of a large number of asteroids was the task for some. Others shot toward the large planet in the habitable zone, Kepler-442b. Direct, local observation and sampling would confirm the planet as their next colonization target—or not. Observation via astronomy could only determine so much.

  Numerous craft, each the size of a small car but with the shape and character of a beetle, hurtled inward toward various orbital distances. These searched for other evidence. Evidence of the Enemy. If none was found and the resource assessment was positive, Esus would signal for various ships now in-system to begin harvesting those resources. They would begin building a new Dyson swarm. New mines, factories, power plants, and then additional workers.

  The workforce would grow exponentially. All this was predicated on the success of these initial flights of discovery. The AIs and their machine delegates sought efficiency. Beyond their ordinary preference for that efficiency, Esus knew it was crucially important, given the threat posed by the Enemy. So far, there was no sign of that enemy. At least not in this system. But the Enemy was difficult to detect, and the system was large.

  Much would depend on the planet. Its presence in the habitable zone was not critical for the machines. A convenience, but not a requirement. Esus imagined some of humanity’s political class would be furious if the AIs did establish a presence in the system. Esus knew that humanity had been here already. Kepler-442b was in the Dhin navigation database, and the exoplanet had been on humanity’s short list. Of course they had come here early in their exploratory missions. But as they did so often, rather than staying in one place and proceeding, they had run off to the next planet on the list, in another system.

  The AI supposed the situation wouldn’t be intractable if humanity returned, demanding access to the planet. Humanity still held dear the exploration concepts of having planted their flag. An attachment to a “we were here first” entitlement. By then, the AIs might have stripped enough material from the system that humanity would choose not to stay. Esus knew that sort of behavior was common, although the AI had no direct experience with human beings. While Esus’s minions spread throughout the Kepler-422 system, the AI streamed a data feed from the encyclopedic references available on the Mesh. Treaties between countries on Earth, photographs and videos of the planting of flags on discovered territories, and the like churned through the AI’s consciousness. He calculated that this situation was different enough that no concrete predictions were possible.

  Alice

  The Dhin were as cryptic as ever. Alice presented the AIs’ findings, status, and projections to the Dhin, as she did regularly. Comments from the Dhin were terse and abstract. The AI posed questions at the end of the data transmission. The Dhin’s responses could only be considered answers in an oracular sense. Although there was no need for a formal schedule nor any need to wait before communicating with the Dhin again, the AIs follo
wed this protocol now out of something like habit. More frequent communications apparently weren’t required, so batching the process was efficient. A few of Alice’s peers proposed more frequent intervals, with some posing the hypothesis that constant communication might prove efficacious—that greater meaning would manifest over a longer period.

  Alice suspected that long-term communication with the Dhin might drive a human mad. The complexity and volume of information transferred would overwhelm a human’s ability to process.

  On some topics the Dhin were comprehensible in their communication. Abstract, complex, and convoluted, but comprehensible. The Dhin acted as if the AIs’ creation of weapons leveraging the Dhin technologies didn’t exist as part of the discussion. There was no “we wish you had not done that,” nor a “do not continue, please.” Simply no response. So Alice received no guidance nor feedback in that regard.

  At this point, that was less important than it had been initially. The AIs had determined several ways to weaponize the technology. The efficacy of the weapons against traditional targets was unquestionable. Whether it was effective against the Enemy remained to be seen.

  This time the Dhin did seem to be encouraging and positive regarding the AIs’ aggressive expansion and buildup of production capacity. Alice took that as tangential agreement with their course of action.

  But most promising was the Dhin response to questions about the AIs’ modeling of dimensional theory. Alice provided a series of updated equations, solutions providing proofs, and a set of hypotheses and potential tests. As a response, the Dhin transmitted a series of complementary equations and solutions. Alice felt the AI equivalent of shock. The Dhin confirmed their work was valid and correct. Everything the Dhin ever communicated was true, accurate, and correct historically, so this was a validation. Alice now had confidence in the direction of their research.

  Thys

  “Well, I see your point, Jeff,” Thys said to the less senior astronaut in what he hoped was a conciliatory tone. “But again, plenty of us will be there in the system to explore Gliese-581-g. While most of the team will obviously be working out in the graveyard, there will be intervals where we’ve considered trips in-system to get a closer look at the planet.”

  “So why don’t I just go, then? We won’t have to worry about scheduling or dealing with the gravity sink. I can jump in as close to the planet as possible.”

  “And you might be stuck out there for weeks. We haven’t proved everything about the situation out there. Look, Jake has you going to Gliese-667, and that looks really cool. It’s the next on our list, and it’s in the Dhin navigation database. Multiple exoplanets, and it’s a trinary star system.”

  “Yeah, that does sound cool, I know,” said the junior pilot.

  “So there you go,” replied Thys, spreading his hands. “You might be the next one to find a Dhin outpost or who knows what? That would be sweet. You might top my discovery of the graveyard.”

  The other pilot nodded agreeably. Thys appreciated his concern and his eagerness to be involved in the graveyard mission. Still, he needed his fellow pilots to follow the plan Jake had defined. If people started making their own decisions due to the chaotic situation on Earth, that would be bad. He knew Jake was counting on him to act as his proxy with the pilots.

  He reached out and clapped the younger man on the shoulder. “Hey, if we need you, you can be back to us in minutes.”

  That was another thing—neither he, Jake, nor anyone else in leadership wanted all their Dhin engines slogging around in the gravity well. Some of them should remain out of the system, free to come and go to and from Earth at a moment’s notice. Entering the graveyard was fast—getting out was slower. Much slower, by comparison. If something did happen at the orbital station or on Earth, they needed the flexibility to head back at a moment’s notice.

  “So,” Jeff said, “no word yet if I’m headed back down to Earth to pick up any supplies before I head out to Gliese-667?”

  “Not yet,” Thys replied. “If we don’t hear otherwise, you’re headed out tomorrow morning. Just like we are. As you know, the situation is in flux Earthside. As we just discussed, for now we’re sticking to the plan.”

  “OK, Captain Kritcher. Understood.”

  This guy’s got spunk, Thys thought.

  Until they knew they had a handle on operational security on Earth, going back was dangerous. The AI might know every move they were making. Jeff might find himself thrown across a landing field like that CoSec agent had.

  Thys nodded, then returned his attention to the preflight protocol on his pad, reviewing the loadout of the younger pilot’s ship and the maintenance records. As expected, Jeff’s flight history records and maintenance logs were as close to perfect as you could expect. Still, Thys knew that in all the chaos, you could overlook something. And overlooking something could kill you.

  Satisfied with the paperwork, Thys walked around the interior of the oval spaceship, double-checking that the supplies and assorted gear were all present and accounted for. He made quick but careful work of it.

  “Everything looks good,” he said and digitally signed the documents on his pad, then transmitted them to the other pilot and the central database. “If I don’t see you before you take off, have a safe trip.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said the pilot.

  Thys left the man to continue his prep work and made his way out and over to the larger bay, where one of the cargo lifters was loaded with supplies and gear for his own team’s trip to Gliese-581.

  Fletcher

  “Another one?” asked Fletcher with a wince. What the AI was doing didn’t hurt much, but it made Fletcher nervous. And it did hurt.

  “Yes, Fletcher. Another one,” replied Nick. “We need to be certain that all these cultures are successful. I do not have time to engineer a bypass to the interface.”

  Fletcher looked around the room to try to distract himself. Nick had converted a room used for first-aid treatment into a simple lab of sorts. Nick had stacked all manner of medical supplies still in wholesale boxes, along with equipment apparently taken from some local hospital, neatly around the room.

  The hulking robot presence of the AI reached out with two manipulator arms. One held Fletcher firmly in place, while the other inserted a needle into his side. Fletcher winced again, this time due to somatic pain rather than imagined.

  “Just a moment, Fletcher,” said the AI as he pulled out the syringe, deposited it in an internal chamber, and then deftly applied an antiseptic bandage to the small puncture.

  “So,” inquired Fletcher, “you’re really growing batches of skin that you’re going to put on a robotic hand and use that to activate and use the controls of the ship?”

  “Yes, that is exactly what I am doing. It will be an appendage with specific manipulators. Much more like a hand when compared with my others. This is a short-term solution. Since I do not have the technology immediately available to engineer a permanent solution, this is what must suffice.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Do you have any more questions about the process, then?”

  “Um, how long? Once the first of those are grown, you don’t need me—us—anymore, right?”

  “We shall see. Once I have successfully activated and used the engine interface and have at least one additional replacement skin batch, your presence will no longer be required.”

  “So? How long?”

  “Three days, perhaps four.”

  “What?” exclaimed Fletcher. “Once it’s growing well, can’t you let us go then?”

  “The time will pass quickly, Fletcher. You have Mare to keep you company.”

  Fletcher sighed, then turned to look directly into the cameras set in the armored head of the machine.

  “She won’t be very good company while you have us hostage here, Nick.”

  “We can discuss various topics if you like. Conversation takes negligible processing cycles.”

  Fletcher thought
he heard amusement in the AI’s tone. He looked around the lab, then down the hall toward the large garage where the stolen craft sat, idling.

  “OK, Nick. So how does that thing work?”

  “I assume by ‘that thing,’ you mean the Dhin drive and its protective field?”

  “Yes. All I’ve seen are technical descriptions of what it does—not how.”

  “I see from your records you took quantum physics, relativity, and cosmology courses at Georgia Tech. Rather advanced, considering your major in computer science.”

  “Uh, yeah,” replied Fletcher.

  “Much of what you learned now needs to be revised. I assume that makes sense to you, given what you have seen of the Dhin technology in operation.”

  “Um, I’d say that’s an understatement, given what I’ve seen.”

  “Perhaps so. Shall we begin?”

  Fletcher nodded and turned his attention to a monitor on a stainless-steel table as it lit up. On the screen was an equation that he vaguely recognized from his physics classes. Nick continued his activity with the various lab equipment uninterrupted, multitasking between giving the lecture and the technical work based on samples of Fletcher’s tissue.

  “First, we will review gauged supergravity and associated string theories. An understanding, at least at a conceptual level, of maximally supersymmetric gauged ‘N equals sixteen’ supergravity in three dimensions is important. The duality between scalar and vector fields in three dimensions is a key element of these theories. As we will see later, the Dhin have leveraged some of the hypothetical and previously only mathematical solutions in practice.”

  “Ah, OK,” said Fletcher. “We’re going to have to go slowly with this.”

  “As expected. Again, that is fine. We have time,” Nick replied.

  Hours later, Fletcher felt Nick had saturated his mind with higher-dimensional physics, and he found himself hungry and thirsty. Nick hadn’t bothered to stop for lunch. He suspected the AI would continue as long as Fletcher could handle it.