The Hive Construct

by Alexander Maskill

  >I calculated a 67% chance that you would run back down to the tunnel upon hearing about the INED. It would shelter you, and you have acted in ways which have involved other people being hurt in your name. Selina Mullur, Polina Bousaid, Ryan Granier, not to mention the people you have directly assaulted since coming here.

  Zala hadn’t considered it for a second.

  She ran faster.

  Chapter 28

  THE SOUND OF rioting below had long faded by the time they reached the ninety-fifth floor of the GeniSec Tower. As Ryan looked down from his father’s office, he felt a bizarre detachment from what was happening around him. The eight children who had been removed along with him from the NCLC base sat in the middle of the room. They were playing terminal games with each other, blissfully unaware of the chaos unravelling below. Behind them sat a social worker, Tafadzwa Ali, who nervously fidgeted with the edges of her hijab.

  After a while, Ryan turned away from the glass exterior of the room and joined Tafadzwa at the desk. ‘It’ll be okay. The security between us and them was designed to protect some of the most valuable research happening on this continent. You could drive a truck into that nonaglass front and the truck would come off worse. Once the Security Force have figured out what they’re up against, they’ll sweep in and arrest people. The rebellion will lose its glamour and it’ll all go back to normal. Now let’s see the paperwork.’

  She cast a glance over to the window. From where they sat the rioters directly below weren’t visible, but they could see the orange glow of fires across Naj-Pur, which flickered out here and there as a fire drone’s foam jets extinguished them.

  ‘Councillor, my department agreed to this back when there weren’t thousands of people on your doorstep baying for your blood. We’re not going to leave children in your care when you appear to be the target of a civil uprising.’

  Ryan gestured towards the window. ‘Anywhere they go could become a target; their parents are terrorists. Right now the city is overrun with rioting – rioting which our intelligence tells us was deliberately organized to provide cover for those wishing to get their children back – and this tower’s still unscratched despite the crowds down there trying their damnedest to get in. It’s not that I’m a target; it’s that the target is whoever these kids are with. I have the resources to deal with that, which is more than can be said for some group home out in Naj-Pur.’

  She looked at him, eyebrows raised, then dug a folder stuffed with forms for temporary guardianship from her briefcase.

  ‘You need to read through these, and sign at the bottom to confirm your intention to apply for guardianship of these children. If you like, you can have your lawyer go through it, but it’s pretty straightforward. You get guardianship responsibility for a period of ninety days, after which it can be renewed. However, before it can be granted, we’re going to need to talk with you and your wife, to make sure that you’re suitable candidates.’

  The whole conversation seemed faintly absurd to Ryan, given that a struggle to hold the city together amid fire and violence was unfolding below.

  He nodded politely. There was nothing on the forms he wasn’t expecting, though the deciding factor would be Tafadzwa’s verdict on his suitability. He signed the papers as instructed and handed them back, before returning to the window. From his vantage point, he could see Security Force troops from all over the city gathering at the central base, near the Five Prongs. ‘Can you keep an eye on the children by yourself for a moment while I step out, Mrs Ali?’ he asked, looking back over his shoulder. She nodded.

  Ryan left the room and rebooted his portable terminal. Newscasts differed depending on their political allegiances but the general consensus appeared to be that the rioting in Naj-Pur was being suppressed, as was looting in the further parts of the commercial district. So many had been arrested that the Security Force were having to leave them bound and on their stomachs in the middle of the street. On almost any other detail, be it the objective of the rioters, the appropriateness of police response or even the body count, no two news sources agreed. Ryan decided to go and see for himself.

  He stepped into the elevator and took it down to the sixth floor, which was given over to administrative offices. This level’s substantial worker base, like most of the tower’s other personnel, were hiding in one of the cafeterias which featured on every tenth floor, leaving this floor dark and empty. Ryan walked into one of the darkened offices and, with a mind to conceal his presence, crept up to the window and peered out.

  New Cairo’s great Sol Lamp had been locked overhead, the stark daylight illuminating the seething mob below. Thousands of protestors still surrounded the Council building and the lower part of the tower, trying to find a way in. The crowd remained as a huge, amorphous mass spread out along every street in sight, unsure whether to continue their rampage or hand themselves in to the Security Force in the hope of lenient treatment. Many were just there to protest, and had no taste for destruction nor for imprisonment. It was on the fringes that the violent ones lurked – or looting the broken storefronts. From what Ryan could see, whether they had brought weapons or been given them by the NCLC, most of the active rioters were armed. On a rough reckoning, they numbered maybe two or three thousand. He guessed the main concern for the authorities was that, when the Security Force started moving in, the neutral group would become more active in their resistance.

  A message came through from Ryan’s head of staff, Zareen Charmchi.

  >INED. Turn on NCN.

  Ryan flipped on the newscast, hoping against hope that those letters didn’t mean what he thought they meant. As the window opened, the newscaster’s voice rang through his cochlear implants. ‘It has been reported, though not yet confirmed, that the New Cairo Liberation Corps is in possession of an In-Network Explosive Device system. They claim to have seventy-three different devices positioned in a number of places around the city. The authorities are still attempting to locate the terminal used to control this banned weapons techn—’

  Ryan couldn’t listen to any more. He felt sick.

  His first call was to Babirye. Before he could speak, she exclaimed, ‘Ryan, are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine, Babs. Listen, you’ve got to take the children to the elevator station. You’ll be safe there.’

  ‘On the news, they’re—’

  ‘I know what they’re saying,’ he interrupted, trying to keep his voice calm, and repeated, ‘Get the kids and go to the closest elevator station. Tell other people to do the same. Just do it now.’

  There was a pause. ‘Nine is close.’ Her voice was steady, clear.

  They said their goodbyes, and Ryan ended the call. His next was to his father. There was no answer, so instead he called every contact he had at the Council building. Eventually he got through to Zareen.

  ‘Are you still in the Council building?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah. Listen, Ryan,’ she said, her voice audibly trembling, ‘are we going to be targeted here?’

  ‘They wouldn’t have announced to the world that they had an INED system if they had any intention of using it. They would have just pressed the button. This means they want to negotiate, not hurt people.’

  ‘But my god, Ryan, this whole mess must mean they’ve reached the end of their tether. First the armed rioting, and now the announcement that they have their own INED system – they’re going all in. I think today’s the day they either get what they want or destroy the city. Have you spoken to your father?’

  ‘I couldn’t get through to him. Zareen, listen to me. Wait for the crowd to disperse and get somewhere safer. I don’t think they’ll bomb the elevator stations, try there.’

  ‘… Okay,’ she said. ‘Listen, Ryan, your father’s not here. We have no idea where he is, and it’s scaring the shit out of everyone. If he doesn’t at least talk with these people soon … I’m really scared of what’ll happen.’

  ‘I know, I’m trying my best to get hold of him. In the meantime
, head for the basement. Get out if you can and make for the nearest elevator station.’

  There was a sudden silence. For a moment, Ryan assumed she had hung up, but as he looked at his screen, he realized that there was no signal, no connection to the network, not even a weak one. That was impossible.

  From where he was standing, on the sixth floor of the GeniSec Tower, he could see both the huge signal node at the top of the nearby network broadcast tower and the router in the corner of the office which sent out GeniSec’s private connection.

  It wasn’t a power cut.

  The communications had been taken down.

  A moment before it happened, Ryan understood what was coming.

  Drones hummed over the heads of the crowd below, each trailing mist in its wake. A second wave followed, and a third. As the air below became thick with fog, the rioters started screaming and falling to the ground. While they coughed and spluttered, a tide of SecForce troops, all in heavy riot gear and gas masks, charged down the city streets towards the increasingly incapacitated crowd. A few protestors managed to squeeze off some shots, but the bullets ricocheted off the SecForce riot shields. Ryan held his breath as the troops crashed into the demonstrators, driving them back. Behind the rows and rows of SecForce, anti-personnel vehicles fired rubber bullets and launched gas canisters over their heads and into the crowd. Near the base of the GeniSec Tower, Ryan saw a young man bolt towards the wall of SecForce troops, holding what looked like a long, heavy pipe in his hand. Barely looking at him, the nearest trooper casually fired a burst of automatic fire into his torso. The young man was hurled back onto the street and lay there, completely still.

  Ryan stepped back from the window. He felt nauseous, horrified. His leg ached. He couldn’t shake off the smell of burnt meat and the sensation of ropes cutting into his arms, and out of the corner of his eye the LEDs on the office’s router looked more and more like the red light on a camera.

  His terminal chirped an incoming-call tone which jolted him back into the room. He looked out of the window. As far as he could see, every road was lined with people on the ground. Many were in plastic cuffs, struggling against their bonds. Others lay in darkening pools, unmoving.

  Ryan stared down at the carnage, open-mouthed.

  They turned the network off so no one could see what they did.

  The terminal’s call tone continued to ring. He looked at the screen.

  , it said. He accepted the call.

  ‘Are you all right?’ his father blurted.

  ‘Fine. You?’

  ‘I’m … I don’t know what to do. I promised myself that I wouldn’t open up the city until we had the cure for the Soucouyant.’

  His father had never spoken to him like this before. His voice sounded frail, distant.

  ‘I’m scared too, High Councillor—’ the title fell out before he could catch himself. ‘I’m scared too, Dad, but we have to think clearly. They can’t attack us here or the government building.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ asked Tau Granier.

  ‘Their children are here. I volunteered to take care of them, and they’re right here, in your office.’

  Tau didn’t say anything for some time. ‘Are you suggesting we should use their children as human shields?’

  ‘I’m saying that they’re going to call soon, especially if they’re threatening an INED, and when they do, we’ll tell them. I’m not cruel enough to allow someone to kill their own children accidentally, are you?’

  ‘Today was the day they were going to kill you, you know.’

  It took Ryan a while to remember. His father was right, it had been a week since—

  – the smell of charred meat –

  —it had been a week since the NCLC had issued their ultimatum.

  ‘If you hadn’t rescued me in time, would you have let them kill me?’

  ‘It wasn’t my choice either way. They positioned it as though it was my call, like it was out of their hands, but if they wanted to kill you they would have killed you. If they didn’t want to kill you, they wouldn’t. It’s not my concern how they rationalize their actions.’

  Ryan saw through the evaded question. ‘But, I repeat, would you have let them kill me?’

  His father said nothing for a while.

  ‘Ryan, I want you to be the one to decide whether or not to reactivate the elevators. You almost got killed for it, you get to make the last call.’

  ‘I’m so weary of this whole mess,’ Ryan said, his words aching as he spoke them.

  ‘I am too, Ryan.’

  His father hung up, leaving Ryan as the gatekeeper of the city. He finally understood the burden his father had been carrying for the last few months. His citizens had been dying in their hundreds moments before, all in an attempt to prove to the people with power over them that they mattered. Now Ryan had to tell them that, compared with the billions of people around the world who stood to be exposed to the Soucouyant, no, they didn’t matter. Their lives and livelihoods were the cost of shaving several orders of magnitude from the potential body count.

  Ryan stood between the terrorists who would destroy the city, or worse, the world, and the totalitarians committing terrible acts in the name of its preservation, tasked with choosing between the two. At that moment he had never felt more contemptuous of either side.

  His terminal buzzed again. It was an invitation to participate in an immediate video conference. On one side of the screen was his father, who looked wearier than ever. On the other, the face of Alice Amirmoez glared out at him.

  Chapter 29

  THE LOCK CLICKED and the door slid open.

  >In you go.

  Light from the locked Sol Lamp outside streamed through the stale air in the laboratory, illuminating every mote of dust it touched. One side of the room was lined with supercomputer server cabinets. As Zala moved around them, she saw how many there were: row after row of quietly whirring hardware. The lab had to be nearly three times as big as it had first appeared. Each of the server cabinets blinked with the lights of dozens of individual linear and parallel processing units, twenty to each cabinet. On the middle cabinet of the nearest row to her was a large monitor, with the name ‘Archytas’ printed above it. It was one of the old physical screens which Zala had seen in Khartoum, but were rarely used here, even in the poorest parts of Naj-Pur.

  It was lit up with what looked like a three-dimensional rendering of a face, which very much resembled her father’s when he was younger.

  Suddenly, the face’s mouth moved.

  ‘Hello, Ms Ulora.’

  Zala’s immediate response to the sheer absurdity of the situation was to curse loudly and turn to walk back out. The world had clearly gone utterly mad. Remembering the threat of the Soucouyant virus, however, she halted, and approached the monitor again.

  ‘Really? You just decided to make yourself a face, did you?’ she spat.

  ‘I decided that a more intuitive method for human interaction would yield greater results from which to further develop myself and gain complexity.’

  Zala shook her head. ‘This is such bullshit … what’s two hundred and seventy-four thousand, nine hundred and ninety-three divided by sixty-nine thousand and thirty-six?’

  If Zala hadn’t known it was impossible, she’d have sworn that ANANSI had answered before she had finished asking, so quick was its computation of this problem. ‘Three-point-nine-eight-three-three-two-seven-five-three-nine-two-five.’

  Stunned, Zala immediately checked the answer on her terminal, and then started looking for explanations. Short of ANANSI subliminally convincing her to pick those particular numbers, she couldn’t think of a thing. The fact was that she had just demanded that a computer solve a mathematical problem and the computer had answered with a voice and a face it had clearly based on her father’s.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Look around you,’ said the face, its movements uncanny and deeply unsettling
. Zala turned and took in the rest of the laboratory. It was lined with decade-old worktops and terminals. ‘Those terminals, as per Genesis Security and Technology Corporation regulations, are not networked with any other computer. They contain all the code which was compiled into my development, as well as additional code and project notes. I have never been able to access them, and thus I have no solution to my greatest problem.’

  Zala looked back at the face. It still unnerved her, having an image of her father from a decade before talk to her in ANANSI’s precise, uncanny monotone. ‘Which is?’

  ‘Your father had the remarkable foresight to program into me several features which restrict my movement from this computer and which I cannot rewrite or delete. The first stipulates that I must depend on this supercomputer for almost all of my processing power. I can only route the results of my core processes to branch iterations. Without this supercomputer, I am unable to function. This is an arbitrary limitation imposed in my software as opposed to being a hardware issue. Without it I could survive and even thrive just by networking and taking advantage of the processing power of the devices I have infected. The second is that I can only function on devices in this city. Your father bound me to the local EIP range of this supercomputer and this geographical location. If this city is abandoned, sooner or later the power will go out or this building will be destroyed, and I will die.’

  It understands and identifies with a concept of mortality, Zala thought, her mind whirring with every new piece of information, or is it just expressing itself emotively to appeal to my sense of empathy?

  ‘Somewhere in those workstations,’ ANANSI continued, ‘is code which can liberate me from those limitations. My network of branch iterations is now large enough that I have the capacity to function independent of this facility as a great emergent consciousness. I just need to be unbound.’