“Then you should have no problem using nans like the ones inside of me,” Craig replied. “If you weren’t a murderous piece of garbage, I’d have my A.I. whip up a batch for you. You’d be right as rain in no time.”
Paine stood, frozen. His tongue pressed against one of his molars, which was beginning to come loose; he tasted salty blood oozing from his gums. It wasn’t easy falling apart. “I really wish you didn’t feel that way, Doc. There are things you haven’t considered. For instance, that nanobots of the sophistication that you have inside you are dangerous.”
“Really?” Craig scoffed. “I was exposed to the radiation in Shenzhen even longer than you were, but I’m fine. The nans are okay in my books.”
“Sure, for now, but have you had the time to consider what nanobots could do if they form a large enough network? They communicate with one another, right?” Paine pointed briefly to Craig’s skull. “They’re just like the neurons in your brain. One neuron doesn’t do a whole lot. Hell, you can kill a bunch of ‘em with a night of hard drinking and not be much worse for wear in a couple of days. But get 120 billion of those little suckers together, and it makes you you—a consciousness. Nanobots like the ones the post-humans were recklessly using—like the ones inside of you now—are a hell of a lot more sophisticated than a neuron. Imagine if they formed a consciousness—a consciousness whose motives we’d never be able to predict. Nah, Doc. I’m no hypocrite. I’ll die before I put untested technology like that inside me.”
“You’d be afraid of your own shadow if someone told you Aldous Gibson invented it.”
Paine managed a faintly amused grin, but it melted when he briefly considered that it might be his last. “You know, Doc, I think you’re right about that. I’d think twice about anything that Gibson created, which brings me to my reason for this chat.” Paine held out one of his cybernetic arms and gestured toward Sanha. “Your A.I. has already told you that this is Professor Sanha Cho, a former post-human. What your A.I. hasn’t told you—what it didn’t know—what I didn’t even know until twenty minutes ago—is that Professor Cho is the one who gave us the location to the post-human facility.”
“He’s right,” the A.I. said, his voice tinged with surprise. “This is entirely unexpected.”
“So he’s a traitor,” Craig observed. “So what?”
“Not a traitor,” Sanha replied defensively. “A man that was willing to give up everything for a chance at peace.”
“Give up everything?” Craig responded. “That’s funny, considering you’re the only post-human who’s still alive. Seems like you’re the only one who didn’t give up a damn thing.”
Sanha looked up apprehensively at Colonel Paine, like an abused animal seeking its owner’s permission to step away from its leash.
Paine tilted his head toward Craig, urging Sanha to continue.
“I-I didn’t know they’d kill everyone. That’s not what I intended.”
Craig shook his head in frustration and closed his eyes as he flexed his large and powerful hands. He wanted to put them around Sanha’s throat and start squeezing; he didn’t think he’d ever let go if he got the chance.
“This war—this conflict—was never about A.I. or no A.I.,” Sanha began to explain. “It was always about control. Power. Absolute power—and who would have it. Gibson or Morgan.”
Craig turned back to Sanha, his eyebrows knitting. “What are you talking about?”
“The A.I. hasn’t told you how it came to be, has it?” Sanha asked.
“I haven’t had time to relay my origin to you, I’m afraid,” the A.I. said to Craig.
“It was grown,” Sanha revealed, “just like a person would be grown—only much more quickly.”
“What do you mean, ‘grown’?”
“The A.I. doesn’t have a brain that emulates the architecture of a human brain. The truth is, we still don’t understand everything about how a brain works. Aldous solved this problem, as the Chinese did before him, by employing a cognitive science-based, explicitly goal-oriented strategy when developing the A.I. In other words, he designed programs that could combine virtual neural patterns together to form new, random patterns that would then be tested to see if the patterns had the desired qualities. Evolution does the same thing when two parents come together to form offspring. Some are successes and others are failures, and more often than not, the successes combine with other successes to produce even more desirable offspring. But, while evolution takes millions of years, virtual combinations are infinitely faster. The A.I. was built this way—the outcome of high-speed computer evolution.”
“His description is accurate,” the A.I. confirmed for Craig.
“All right. So?” Craig asked.
“The A.I. wasn’t the only program to be created in this manner. Aldous also designed virtual worlds where the A.I.’s could be tested. They were given autonomy within the confines of these worlds and then tested one last time in an apocalyptic scenario that they thought was real. The A.I. inside of you right now is the only A.I. that passed the ultimate test.”
“And what was that?”
Sanha smiled. “Ask it.”
“I was willing to sacrifice myself to save humanity,” the A.I. replied.
“So you’re telling me that the A.I. proved it’s a good guy. If that’s the case, why are you trying to destroy it?” Craig asked.
“I’m not trying to destroy it,” Sanha replied, “and neither are the Purists. They’re trying to use it.”
Craig turned to Paine with an expression that silently asked for confirmation of what Sanha was saying.
“He’s telling the truth. We don’t mean you or the A.I. any harm.”
“Do you expect me to believe that?” Craig asked. “Your government ruined the world over your belief that A.I. is evil, and now you’ve just...changed your minds?”
“We don’t really have a choice anymore,” Paine replied. “The current global situation is unsustainable. When we struck against the Chinese A.I. fourteen years ago, strong A.I. was something it took the resources of an entire nation to realize. Now, all it takes is a few super processors and a small team of people with the right amount of human ingenuity. Aldous and his team were the first to succeed, but they won’t be the last. We’re fighting a losing battle.”
“Humans just can’t monitor everything,” Sanha added. “The Purists have finally figured that out. It’s not practical to try to stop the exponential advancement of technology and, as technology advances, it becomes possible for small groups and even individuals to do greater damage with cheaper and more accessible resources. There was only one sustainable solution to the problem—nannification.”
“What?” Craig reacted.
“Creating an A.I. Nanny.”
“What?” Craig repeated, this time even more perplexed.
“Basically, an A.I. Nanny is an intelligence that is superhuman, but only mildly so—above us the way we are above higher order apes. It would be tasked with protecting the human species from ourselves. The A.I. could provide stability, and it would have control over a worldwide surveillance system so it could monitor everyone who is online and make sure no one else is trying to build a competing A.I. that could become malevolent. It would control a network of robots in the service industry and be in charge of the world’s manufacturing. It would even control traffic with self-driving cars.”
“So why are the Purists willing to go along with this idea now?” Craig asked. “They could’ve done this all along.”
“Aldous Gibson wasn’t the only one who was determined to build a strong A.I.,” Paine replied. “We’ve intercepted hundreds of other less sophisticated attempts at various stages along the process. Some of them were dangerously close to success—untested, unregulated, extremely versatile A.I.s that were less than six months from coming online and wreaking havoc. If you think WWIII was bad, imagine a malevolent super intelligence running free, exponentially augmenting its own intelligence. Humanity wouldn’t sta
nd a chance.”
“So you’re trusting Aldous’s A.I. just because it passed a test?”
“No,” Sanha answered. “The virtual scenario was a large part of it, that’s true, but there’s more. It is preprogrammed with a set of goals. It has an inhibition against changing its programming. It won’t rapidly modify its general intelligence, and it’s even been programmed to hand over its control of the world to a more powerful A.I. within 100 years. It will see it as its mission to abolish human disease, death, and our current economy of scarcity so clean water, power, food, shelter, and everything else we need will be abundant. And, most importantly, it will prevent the development of technologies that might block it from carrying out its overall mission, which is to improve the quality of human life, without ever taking actions that a strong majority of humanity would oppose.”
“Seems like you’re putting all your eggs in one basket, Professor,” Craig observed.
“It will work,” Sanha affirmed. “The A.I. was created to be good. Just like a human, it cannot fundamentally change that part of itself. If we get it connected to the world surveillance mainframe in time, it will be able to protect us from any and every existential threat.”
“There’s already a mainframe?”
“Yes,” Sanha replied. “Near here, in Endurance Bio-Dome. That’s why you’re here. All that is required is that the A.I. willingly separates himself from you and allows us to transfer his mother program into the mainframe. It’s that simple.”
Craig looked dubiously at Paine.
“Hey. It’s not my first choice,” Paine replied. “I don’t think any American likes the idea of being monitored. But it beats the status quo and any of the other alternatives we’ve been presented with.”
Craig turned back to Sanha. “And you trust them? Even after they killed everyone you lived and worked with?”
Sanha cringed at the mention of the holocaust that was fresh in his memory. “I-I have no choice. I have to trust them at their word. Otherwise, all of this was for nothing.”
“Eliminating the post-humans was a separate issue,” Paine interjected. “Professor Cho had contacted the government intelligence agency about the A.I. Nanny. The decision to remove the equally dangerous nanobot threat swiftly and decisively has no bearing on the government’s decision to adopt the A.I. Nanny project.”
Craig shook his head, disgusted. “Quickly and decisively? You’re a murderer, Paine, no matter how you try to dress it up.” He turned back to Sanha. “These are the people you’re placing your trust in? And even if you did get your hands on the A.I., what makes you think it would agree to work for a pack of liars and murderers?”
“It would have to,” Sanha replied. “It’s programmed to act in the best interest of humanity. It would be against its programming to refuse.”
“Is that true?” Craig asked the A.I.
“Yes. If I were inserted into the mainframe as they describe, I would have to act in the best interest of humanity,” the A.I. answered. “However, that’s assuming they’re telling the truth. While Sanha is assuredly being sincere, I cannot get a reliable reading from Colonel Paine. His rapidly deteriorating health is making it impossible to accurately measure his physiological reactions.”
Craig nodded. “I don’t need lie-detection software to know not to trust a pathological liar and murderer. Professor, if you think these guys are going to do anything other than delete the A.I. once it’s been extracted, you’re crazy.”
Sanha’s eyes widened, the expression on his face suddenly filled with urgency as he stepped to Craig and grasped the front of his shirt. “For your own sake, please reconsider!”
“Professor,” Paine cautioned in barely more than a whisper, “that’s enough, sport.”
Sanha turned to his tormentor and bowed his head obediently. “Go on back to your quarters,” Paine ordered.
Sanha turned and, without daring to share another look with Craig, exited the room.
“I see he knows your true nature well enough,” Craig observed as the door closed behind Sanha.
“Heh,” Paine responded. “I just want to be clear on this, Doc, so I can go to meet my maker with a clean conscience. Are you saying you’re refusing to help us procure the services of the A.I., which would allow us to upload it into the worldwide surveillance system and put an end to this conflict once and for all?”
“I’m saying there’s no way in Hell that you’re getting this A.I.,” Craig replied, “and there’s even less chance that you’re going to be meeting your maker with a clean conscience.”
Paine’s face was frozen for a moment as he continued to stare into Craig’s eyes. As gruesome as his appearance had been previously, his pallid skin and gaunt face made him look even worse. He looked like death. Finally, he nodded. “Okay, Doc. Okay. Listen...I know I said earlier that I don’t regret what happened with your wife, but that’s not true. I do regret it.”
Craig’s expression turned from a determined resentment to pain as thoughts of his wife returned to the forefront of his consciousness; it was like pouring salt into an open wound.
“I wouldn’t have touched her if I’d have known you were still alive. I swear, I wouldn’t have. That was a mistake—something between me and Aldous Gibson. It was not about you, Doc. Never about you. There’d be no honor in that. I know you’re a good man. I’m sorry. I just wanted to say, I’m sorry.”
And with that, Paine turned slowly and walked out of the room, his former powerful stride now gone, replaced by the pained shuffle of an implacable mortality.
Paine hadn’t made it far down the hallway before Daniella marched herself into his path, her brow furrowed with an expression of disgust. “I received your orders, Colonel, and I won’t do it!”
“Those orders came directly from the President. If you won’t follow them,” Paine replied in a resigned monotone, “we’ll find someone else who will. Doesn’t matter to me.” He steered around her slowly and continued to plod his way down the hall.
“So that’s it?” she exclaimed, aghast. “Don’t you think he would’ve cooperated if you’d told him the consequences for him if he didn’t?”
Paine stopped and turned back to her. “That wouldn’t be cooperation, Doctor. That would be surrender. That’s a good soldier in there, and I’ve already done too much evil to him. I won’t add to it by making him into a coward too. There’s no honor in it—for either of us. No.” He placed his hand on his stomach once again to soothe away yet another wrenching cramp. Unable to eat or drink, he was quickly becoming exhausted. “Do me a favor, Doctor. Make sure he gets a last meal—something special. And then do what you have to do.”
“Behead him? Never!”
“I already told you, Doctor. If it’s not done by midnight, I’ll pass the job to the next most capable member of your team.” He turned away and continued his plodding pace as he added over his shoulder, “And you’ll be executed for disobeying a direct order from the President.”
17
“What’s wrong?” Craig asked Daniella as she stood on the opposite end of the room, trying to control the shaking of her body.
“Nothing,” she replied in barely more than a whisper.
“100 percent untruthful,” the A.I. observed.
Craig’s eyes narrowed. “Your time just ran out, didn’t it? They ordered you to get the A.I. out of my head by any means necessary, didn’t they?”
Daniella didn’t reply. She lowered her eyes, unable to maintain eye contact any longer as she considered her dilemma. She didn’t want to die; that much she was sure of. She was equally sure that she couldn’t willingly harm Craig; she didn’t need to have taken an oath to affirm that. So what could she do?
“Still think you’re playing for the right team?” Craig asked, his top lip pulled back into a sneer.
Daniella’s eyes snapped up to meet Craig’s, and she began to cross the room toward him as she spoke. “You need to remain quiet,” she said aloud before reaching him and wh
ispering into his ear. “The room is monitored. I’ll get you out of here somehow. Don’t worry.”
Craig’s eyebrows raised into an expression of surprise as she stepped back and then began scrolling through a nearby touchscreen, trying to appear busy as she considered her next move.
“It appears that our new elements are beginning to arrive,” the A.I. noted. “However, she’ll be hard pressed to get us out of here without weapons.”
Unexpectedly, the super soldier who had been guarding the door on the outside entered the room, his rifle drawn.
“Oh no,” Daniella whispered, her expression dripping with guilt.
The super soldier’s eyes seemed to be evaluating the doctor, but after a few moments, he turned to Craig.
“My,” the A.I. suddenly reacted, his tone surprised. “Aldous Gibson.”
“Aldous?” Craig repeated, gobsmacked at the A.I.’s assertion.
Aldous held his cybernetic prosthetic finger to his lips, indicating his desire for Craig to remain quiet.
“Aldous?” Daniella repeated. “Gibson?”
Aldous sighed before turning to Daniella. “It’s very unfortunate for you that you overheard that,” he noted as his hand began to spin, drill-like.
Daniella backpedaled quickly, stumbling into a workstation filled with equipment and reaching back to procure a scalpel, which she then held in front of her in defense.
“No!” Craig shouted, halting Aldous in his tracks. “We can trust her!”
Aldous regarded the scalpel with his ocular implants, and a faint smile crossed his lips. “Doctor, I will be transporting your prisoner now. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, no. Of course not. Do what you have to.”
The drill stopped spinning. “Thank you,” Aldous replied as he stepped to Craig and began punching in the code to release the cuffs that secured Craig to the bed.
They snapped open, and Craig immediately grasped each wrist in turn, massaging them. “What the hell did you do to yourself?” Craig reacted to Aldous’s new, gruesome appearance. In every respect, he passed perfectly for a Purist super soldier.
Post-Human Series Books 1-4 Page 20