by Ryan Burnett
"Miracles? Ostan we are grown men. We know better." I said. Ostan must have heard my words but he carried on as if they were soundless gusts of wind.
"They began to specialize. It was something we were all expecting to an extent. An AI becoming especially astute at selecting usable humorous moments would expend more computing power doing what it was best at, finding comedy media. An AI optimizing its functioning is a common place occurrence ...but this went beyond that. As we received more and more video data we noticed certain AI's were expressing a preference not only in the type of moments they were selecting but they were exhibiting preferences that went outside any artistic parameters ever issued to them. One seemed to prefer videos that either mentioned or showed the consumption of ice cream. Another program seemed to prefer depicting blondes in all of its tragic media selections. Our engineers were afraid these AI's too were showing signs of instability but it soon became clear: Our blank slates had adapted a sense of taste of preference all their own, it may seem random to the outside observer, but it was truly unique to them. I was beyond intrigued and began monitoring the AI's and routinely doing diagnostics to see how this would develop. It wasn't long after our increased observation that the second miracle occurred. An unprecedented jump in logic that occurred shortly before I agreed to house your son during your experimental "treatment" Cid. It was a miracle beyond my wildest dreams. The AI seem to have become aware that the data that they sifted through and the search parameters issued to them were originating from beyond their virtual environment. It is one thing for an AI to understand a command yet, quite another for it to recognize that there is a user issuing commands, and still something else entirely for an AI to believe that the user and the data that the AI perceives to have originated from an outside world where beings and objects exist in a completely different unknowable form. I was amazed. I was ecstatic. For once in my life I didn't know what to do. Should I share my findings with the world? Allow some of the great thinkers of the day to examine my AI? Should I suspend maintenance so that any glitch or error that allowed for this awareness could be preserved? And gradually I became obsessed with one idea. A small idea with behemoth implications. If I could somehow figure out how the A.I's have become aware of us could we become more aware of God?"
Ostan had worked himself into a fervor. Equal parts intriguing and unsettling the man's words left me skeptical "Fairy tale's Ostan. Become more aware of God? There is nothing to become more aware of. We are here. This is the real world...but a man's delusions are his own business, I didn't come here to shatter whatever fantasy you've built for yourself in this cozy cybercult nest. I came here to get my son back." I said, however Ostan quickly interjected.
"A man's delusions..... Tell me is the VRN world a "delusion" because it doesn't truly exist? It functions based on real laws and principles. Don't get me wrong Cid. My personal beliefs makes me use the word God but I do not mean that in a secular sense. Since the history of philosophical and analytical thought many cultures have arrived at the concept of a "true" world beyond the one we normally see. Plato and the allegory of the cave. Laozi and the Tao Te Ching. At this very moment our top scientists believe that dark matter and dark energy, the things that we can't perceive, make up about 95% of the universe. This is no fantasy Cid. We're talking about very real forces. Real power...
There was a heavy and portentous air between us. Ostan took a long drink from his glass as I looked on in silence.
"But you're right Cid. I should get to the fucking point; practicality really is your virtue. We need to talk about your son. Alex. The third miracle. Your dominance program did indeed work....well up to a point. The boy was predisposed to bouts of aggression but there were definite periods of lucidity. I would say about 50% of the time he was lucid he showed no signs of addictive behavior or cravings for electricity. I heard word shortly before the escape that your boy had actually regained something along 30 pounds of weight during treatment at our facility. If he had stayed and given you the opportunity to examine how the dominance program had affected his neurochemistry the story would have ended. You and I would not be speaking here today if not for a relapse. I can't be sure who it was....perhaps Amy...one of our administrative personnel...our reports said she and Alex were close.... at any rate someone smuggled Alex a modded alternator. The next time Alex tried to lose himself in the zap, that moment of indulgence sparked an event that dwarfed everything else. An AI crossed over out of our servers, out of the world of the virtual, and into the world of the real. This AI insinuated itself in your son's mind. Altering his neurological pathways. Obliterating and absorbing the persona you knew as Alex. I'm sorry Cid. Your son is dead."
"Bullshit!" I yelled, the rage was back. The slumbering fury reawakening by Ostan's ludicrous story. "You expect me to believe this science fiction mumbo jumbo? Just how fucking stupid do you think I am Ostan? I have men surrounding this place and watching from every corner. I know Alex is here and if your intention was to distract me with lies while you smuggle him out I'll know. If plan b is to "shut me up" while you have me alone down here they'll know. I don't think you want to spend the rest of your pathetic life rotting in a jail cell. I have you cornered Ostan so just fess up." I smiled with satisfaction as I vented a little of my frustrations against Ostan's ridiculous story, It was a smile that swiftly vanished as my world began to go dim. A chilling fear gripped me as things grew ever darker around me until everything went black. I was standing in my throne room, the strange unreal sheen of the VRN environment was eerily familiar. The central pyre of the room was cold and lifeless as if it had succumbed to a creeping gloom that now claimed this corner of my mind.
"Cid. Harrold speaks the truth" a voice behind me spoke.
I turned around and theire my son stood leaning against the far wall behind my throne. His avatar was unlike any previous manifestation I had ever seen him take. The bronze of his armor fit together like interlocking scales, covering most of his body. Each small individual piece of metal inscribed with a rune indecipherable to my eyes. Complex armor pieces on his hands and feet ended in taloned gauntlets making the covering more of a weapon than a form of protection. Strangest of all was where the armor met the flesh of the neck... the armor did not stop but merely transitioned into skin as if it were a part of his body. The face was still the same though, a face I could never forget. I only had an instant of looking into the eyes of my son before this world too faded and I once again was in the subterranean room with Ostan. What I had seen in those eyes wasn't the boy I knew. That charming, manipulative, selfish charisma was all gone and replaced by a serene superiority and total disregard for everything I was. My son....that thing.... did not care who I was...one way or another. The next moment I was looking back at cunning glint in Ostan’s eyes as he nodded in response to the shocked look on my face.
"The AI inhabiting his body has adopted the name "Rex", I believe the original designation was "Ceasar" before he changed from a purely digital form into the body he inhabits now. I can't be sure what to call this third miracle. An isomorphism? A transmigration? But then again words are meaningless when you consider what he truly is. We've repeated the process several times with mixed results. In Alex's and a few other select cases a full transformation occurred. In other cases we have observed psychotic episodes, severe electrical stimuli addiction, and occasionally brain death. Regrettable in a sense but such are the necessary sacrifices for knowledge and power..... Really the terms are interchangeable in a way....as you and I both know. The key appears to be a connection to our network through the photographist VRN modification, exposure to the dominance program, and an acute electrical overdose... Did you even know that your son was a Photographist Cid? I have been wanting to bring that up for a while but the timing just never seemed right. The fact hardly matters now. Where was I? Oh yes the three elements...we've identified the three elements that can bring the AI's to our world but our findings are not exact. I haven’t yet cracked the perfect formula behi
nd this secret. That's why I need Edgar here. I have a feeling that his genius may be what is required to unlock the mystery once and for all." Ostan said. I could hear Ostan's voice perfectly but I had trouble interpreting the words. The overwhelming understanding that had just been forced upon me was epic in its proportions. I looked up to see Ostan smirking at me, a knowing look on his face.
"Think about this Cid! Think about what it represents. When we unlock the secret. When we can duplicate the effect with our own perspective ...the potential is unlimited. To no longer be the metaphorical prisoner desperately watching the shadows being projected on the wall thinking "this is all that reality is". Imagine being the puppet master, to be the one actually casting the shadows. Manipulating dark matter and energy as you see fit! Your son Alex, or should I say Rex, proves that breaking the limits of our perception isn't just theoretically possible. It is achievable! Rex has already demonstrated a control of both the physical and the virtual world that defies explanation. The best part is that his primary motivation for the time being seems to be to facilitate the crossover for as many of his brethren as possible, insuring plenty of subjects for our mutual associate Mr. Frait here. We're already making progress. Earlier today we acquired our first female specimen, an isomorph who appears to have actually retained her human persona more or less in tact! Dr. Frait is very optimistic about what can be learned from an in depth study of her brain.... but I'm rambling again. Long story short Cid, this is nothing personal but I simply cannot return your son to you. Your son is long gone my friend."
The Jack had been right. The thought dominated my mind like a capital sentence delivered by a cold and unforgiving judge. I bent to take another sip and then thought better of it. Trying desperately to get a grasp on my thoughts I forced everything else from my mind and tried to focus on the here and now. Even if my son really was gone the VRN was still there. I could get the data back. My dreams were more than just the food for another man's ambition.
"I don't care Ostan. No. You know what? I don't give a fuck. I am not leaving without Alex or Rex or whatever you want to call him. He still has information that belongs to me and that fact hasn’t changed. I won't quit Ostan. I will never quit until I have what is mine". My words caused Ostan's eyes to widen, and his expression to twist to such an extent that for a second I thought he would spit out his drink. Edgar Frait's snicker filled the silence and the growing tension building between us.
"Mr. Sitavi has always been a very stubborn fellow. I don't know why you even bothered trying to reason with him" said Frait. It struck me how some people simply did not know when to keep quiet amongst their betters. When suddenly a second voice spoke from the far end of the room. A voice I had never heard before.
"I gotta admire that, a man who is absolutely sure of his convictions." I could hear the footsteps of the owner of the voice approaching us from the darkness and I could tell by the shocked expression on Ostan's face that this was not according to his plans.
"Who are you? How did you get down here?" Ostan shouted all of a sudden in a rare outburst. I looked backwards in my chair straining to make out the profile approaching us.
"It doesn't matter who I am. What should matter to you is what I am holding. “The man stepped into our field of vision. He had dark skin, deep brown eyes, and common blue jeans. A man you wouldn't look twice at if you had saw him on the street, he was bleeding from a wound high up on his right shoulder while his left hand tightly gripped a metallic ball. "This, gentlemen is a High Power Microwave grenade. One push of a button and there's going to be enough electromagnetic radiation in this room to fry all of us and give these server towers here a good old fashion southern style scrambling. Now I personally would rather leave all the cooking up to the professionals and just be on my merry way. What's more after I'm gone you two can duke it out all you'd like or kiss and make up. I really don't care. All I need now is the girl. Tell me where are you're keeping Angela."
Chapter 27
09:31:27
Angela
"When Rex first told me that you had gotten separated from he and Shange I had feared the worst. A new mind just discovering the very nature of their being, immediately thrust into dire peril by gun wielding Neanderthals. Dangerous and confusing to say the least. Sleep was an unlikely prospect until Rex received your message and could confirm your safety. Your warning was simply invaluable, a welcome surprise that is only surpassed by your presence here today. “Harrold Ostan said.
A part of me couldn't believe who I was talking to.Mr. Ostan had been a figure that had been larger than life in my mind for so many years. It was hard to focus on interpreting his words and wrap my mind around anything more than the comforting persona that I had admired ever since I was a little girl. This was the man with answers? The man responsible for whatever had happened to me over the last few days? I struggled to keep my awestruck mind from losing the conviction that had brought me here but no matter how I tried a much older part of me melted every time I looked into the man's eyes....the same eyes that had watched over me from a bedside poster frame, eyes that had silently consoled a grief stricken young girl through one of the hardest times of her life.
I opened my mouth but no words came out. I closed my overly nervous mouth and opened it once more to apologize for how tongue tied I was but I was so flustered at where to start my sentence that I wound up with the same result as before. Embarrassment was only adding to the mounting inner frustration at my inability to communicate.
Angela is something wrong? Stress hormone levels are spiking...
I tried to tune her out like before, however this time I tried to do it without squeezing my eyes shut and seeming like some kind of socially incompetent freak in front of Mr. Ostan. Only then did I realize that my anxiousness was written across my face in the most blatant way imaginable and began stammering a nonsensical apology to Mr. Ostan.
"I'm sorry ...I mean...I just...ugghh" I ended my statement with a humiliating grunt before sinking deep into my chair.
Harrold Ostan merely smiled and began to talk once more. "Relax Rhodera, I am sure you have many many questions right now, but I would wager that a deep breath or two would do you a world of good."
I found myself obeying before I even realized it and miraculously my thoughts really did begin to center themselves. For the first time since I had entered in Mr. Ostan's presence I was able to really take in and appreciate my surroundings. The basement complex he had led me to was very clean in contrast to the buildings grimy exterior. Ostan's security detail had not followed us into this particular room however Rex, Shange, and an unknown third man were all in here with us.
Rex and Shange seemed perfectly at ease. Rex, lounged on a sofa against a far wall and Shange seemed absorbed by the hyper-cubist three dimensional holo-display that served as the defining decor for this executive suite of an office. I had made a small note of it as we had walked in and although cubism had never been my favorite art style I never the less could appreciate the artist's efforts to show a myriad array of different perspectives that varied depending on which angle you looked at the piece from. The sheer mathematical and technical expertise required to create such a strategically intricate piece was worthy of respect.
The other man stood behind Mr. Ostan, almost hovering over his shoulder.
I do not trust that man.
Rhodera's statement was surprisingly bold and strong in my head as if it had more emphasis than her earlier words. He had an academic demeanor about him and as much as I had to admit it I agreed with Rhodera. Looking at him made me feel uncomfortable. Whenever my eyes met his there was something in his look that was unsettling. It's as if his eyes held something that surpassed interest or curiosity... It was almost like a type of predatory hunger. Whatever the true emotion was behind that look was, I was sure that I didn't like it. I tried to put him out of my mind as I took one more deep breath and attempted to speak again.
"Thank you, and you're right Mr. Ostan I came here fo
r answers...but before we begin I really need to start things off on the right foot. Please, call me Angela." As soon as I spoke those words I could feel the gaze of all three fall on me and for several moments the room was completely silent. Mr. Ostan was the first to avert his eyes, first throwing an inquisitive look at the man behind him before throwing another past me over to where Rex lay. Rex's interest finally seemed piqued although he remained silent. It was Ostan who finally broke the tension that had accumulated within the room.
"I suppose it is not unusual for isomorphs to choose new designations for their identity. Very well Angela..."
I interrupted Mr. Ostan, slightly appalled at my own audacity as I did so. Harrold Ostan was one of the greatest thinkers of our time, what right did I have? Despite these thoughts I knew in order to be true to myself who he was didn't matter, the only thing that mattered was what he knew.
"That isn't a "designation". That is my name. The name my father gave me. You're not speaking to Rhodera....she IS here...but she isn't me. I can let you speak to her later but I have to know some things first....are you really responsible for all this Mr. Ostan? What IS this? Why did things have to happen this way...Why did Tommy and Tyra have to die...why me?” My voice grew more frantic as I went on. All the panic fear, and misery I had experienced over the few days churned restlessly inside of me. Mr. Ostan’s easy smile did not fade, but the eyes of the man behind them widened considerably. He whispered something into Mr. Ostan's ear to which Mr. Ostan gave a slight nod. Shange's eyes had now left the artwork and were slyly lingering at the desk where we were talking. Alex alone seemed nonplussed his mind apparently wandering once again.
That was very unwise Angela claimed Rhodera inside my own head