by Ramona Finn
Heading back into the Glass Hall, I find Bird’s head fallen forward. I have to nudge her arm to wake her. “It’s time,” I tell her.
She scrambles to her feet and wipes the sleep from her eyes. Blinking, she glances around her, eyes wide. I almost ask if she was dreaming or was having a vision, but I don’t want to know. My choice is to go into this with only my determination to make this work—I do not care what Bird’s visions show, I have to do this and get this right.
Heading to Dr. Sig’s lab, Bird asks, “What do you want me to do? And why didn’t you want Skye or Alis to help you?”
I shake my head. “Alis will help—she is going to distract the AI for me. The Rejects will do the same if Skye gets to them.”
“And if that doesn’t go as planned?”
Stopping at the door to Dr. Sig’s lab, I turn to face Bird. “Then this is going to be a lot harder.”
Bird wets her lips. She glances at the door and then at me, and she tugs on the long braids and ribbons wound into her hair. Her gestures leave me nervous—she is reminding me that I may end up leaving all the Techs without a home. Or I may end up becoming the AI.
Stepping into Dr. Sig’s lab, I glance around. I head for the smaller room. That is my best chance for a connect—and when I alert the AI that the Glass Hall still exists and has power, I wonder if the AI will send drones here. I’ll have to deal with that in advance.
With a last glance at Bird, I wipe my palm against my leather trousers and take a breath. This is just another connect, I tell myself. But that’s foolish. This is going to be far more.
I grab Bird’s wrist with one hand and press my palm to a screen and touch the panel. For an instant nothing happens. My heart skips a beat and sweat slicks my upper lip. And then a familiar prick stabs my palm.
Connection: Secure.
Glancing around, I see the darkness of the artificial world within the Glass Hall. Bird stands with me, blinking, her eyes wide, her chest rising fast with breaths—but this is the Bird that exists within her mind and mine. In this world, we both seem to be clean of the dust and dirt of the Outside. Our clothes are not torn rags, but shimmer slightly. I could dress us in the smooth tunics of the Norm, if I wished, but that is a distraction.
First step is to map the old platforms again and get them power. Letting go of Bird’s hand, I start to call up the data I need.
Bird steps closer and asks what I am doing. I continue my search and tell her, “We’re inside the Glass Hall—it’s like being in a vision, except you control this world with your mind. Or at least you can influence it. Never forget, this world has intelligence of its own. You try to do something it doesn’t want to do and you can get thrown out or worse.”
“What’s the worse?”
I glance at the artificial Bird—her skin glows slightly. “Worse is the system walls you off as a danger and your mind is trapped here forever.”
She backs up a step. “I think I like the being thrown out idea better.”
I nod. “If you want out, try to think up a door, or do something that the system doesn’t like—try to access something that looks restricted. Ah—here’s what I need.” A glowing line has appeared. I follow it and slowly darker lines spread out—connects to old platforms that the Glass Hall once used. I find the three that connect to the Norm as well. Glancing at Bird, I tell her, “I’m going to power these—once I do, the AI may notice. Or we may have sentinels come after us inside the artificial world. If you have to fight here, fight. Just know your will counts for more here than your real body’s strength.”
Bird nods. She pulls her knife—it instantly grows longer. That surprises me, but Bird is used to being inside visions, so of course she is comfortable dealing with a world that is not quite real.
The blackness seems to brighten around us—I send power to the platforms. Skye will use one and Alis will use another, but I want the AI to notice all three. A flash brightens the darkness. I turn to it and touch it.
It seems to be the Norm. I can see the dome—it looks a silvery metal sphere. Around it, drones hover. Scabs stride along the ground. And the thousands of Techs living within appear as small golden dots, most of them stationary.
I bite at my lower lip.
I want to disconnect the Techs from the AI’s control, but I will have to do that from within the AI.
“I’m going deeper with the hack,” I tell Bird. As soon as I start down the power connect to the Norm, what seems like a dark blue orb appears in front of us.
“Is that a sentinel? How are we supposed to get past it?” Bird asks, her voice a little high.
“Not a sentinel. Just a firewall. But I’ve got some tricks—and we’re going to look like power. That’s something the AI always wants more of.” Reaching out to the Glass Hall, I ask it to activate every system—to pull on reserves.
Around us, the blackness changes to gray and then to a pale white. I can almost feel the vibrations of the Glass Hall waking up, activating everything, and then starting to pull on power supplies to do this.
Bird steps closer and it seems to me that she looks like she wants to ask more questions. Lines bunch up on her forehead and her lips part. But I shake my head. I don’t have time to educate her about hacks.
A buzzing has me turning—one of the platforms is glowing bright. Alis or Skye is there with a connect. I can see the platform—the connect happening. But then I have to turn my attention back to the power surge I’ve created in the Glass Hall—I can’t let that get out of control.
Pushing the power toward the blue orb, I let the power flow. The orb seems to sway and then pops as if it was nothing more than a bubble of air sitting on top of water. Pushing the power ahead of us, I ride the connect into the Norm.
The cool blue of the AI’s world settles around us.
“Where are we now?” Bird asks.
“Physically, we are still in the Glass Hall—but our minds have moved into the AI’s world within the Norm.”
“It’s…prettier than I thought it would be.”
It is lovely—soft blues surround us. A moment of longing clutches at me—I could stay in this world. I could be part of the AI and never have to leave this—I would never know hunger unless the AI lost power, I would never know thirst unless the AI had cooling issues, and I would live forever.
And all of that would be without Wolf or the others I have grown to care for.
Pulling away from that temptation, I call up information on the Norm.
The AI has changed it—a great deal. The Norm is no longer a dome, but is now a sphere that encloses all of the Norm, both above and below the ground. From what I can see by the data, it looks sealed tight. And almost complete. The earth shaking have been initial tests—the AI must make certain the Norm is strong enough to survive the destruction of the world around it. Conie wants to take the Norm into space by destroying the world around it—a simple way to break free.
Bird tugs on my sleeve. “What are you doing now?”
“Searching for data—for access to the AI. I’d rather find her than have Conie find me.”
“Definitely not thrilled with that idea,” she mutters.
Calling up rows of filing cabinets, I start my search, but Bird asks, “What’s that?”
I want to tell her not to distract me, but a glance at the display of the Norm shows the drones activating. They head to an access panel—that’s the good news. If the drones can get out, that also means there’s a way inside the Norm. The bad news is the drones will head out to attack the Rogues.
“Drones,” I tell Bird. “We have to stop them.”
“What can I do?” Bird asks.
“Keep watching for sentinels. I’m worried we haven’t seen any yet.”
The search seems far too slow, but time is different in the artificial world. I search for the code that controls the drones and scabs—but I’m also on the hunt for the AI’s core code. It’s got to be here. An itch starts between my shoulders—is Conie watc
hing?
I’ll have to take the chance that she is. With any luck, I’ll find a backdoor before the AI notices what I am doing. The power surge must be keeping the AI occupied—and hopefully Alis and Skye are doing the same.
I’m shaking inside—or inside my head at least. This has been almost too easy, and I suspect a trap is here. Even so, I push forward.
The room seems to darken around us, changing to a deeper blue. I almost feel as if I’m moving impossibly slow. At any moment, we could be swarmed by sentinels.
I glance at Bird. She seems distracted by the colors of the room—the deep blues. I turn back to my search.
Something is nagging at me—I am bothered by the fact that Raj’s program to alter the AI never really worked. I am even more bothered now by the fact that I have never been able to find the AI’s core code. I still cannot find it.
I’m about to say something to Bird when the room seems to shift around me. The shift is subtle, but suddenly Bird no longer stands next to me. The room seems colder.
The feeling that this is all wrong is stronger now. Where did Bird go? Why does it seem so cold? Why haven’t I seen a single sentinel?
The world fades, twists and turns. I can’t make myself move fast enough to escape. Darkness falls suddenly into the artificial world.
And then it is light again—a pale, blue room. And Conie stands in front of me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
For a moment Conie’s artificial world blurs with the Norm—I cannot tell if I am standing in the Glass Hall still in Dr. Sig’s lab, or in the pale blue of the virtual world or in the green area of the Norm with buildings around me. Images from all three seem to overlap. I do not know what has happened to Bird—I hope she is still well and was just thrown from the virtual world. But I don’t know.
Frustration spikes into my throat. I shove it down—and face Conie.
She’s a virtual projection again, once more in the form of Dr. Constance Sig. Her hair is pulled up and back, making her high cheekbones seem even sharper. She wears a gray tunic and loose gray trousers. Her eyes glow a bright blue and she asks, “Why do they insist on attacking?” She waves a hand and the world around us shifts.
Suddenly, it is as if I am outside the Norm—and yet also inside. Vertigo swims up into my mind, but I blink and try to focus on individual images.
Skye climbs between pipes and into narrow hallways and then starts down metal stairs. She is inside, I know, tucked into the world where the Rejects live, between the skin of the Norm and the green inside. Skye races along, her breath ragged, glancing over her shoulder as if she knows something is watching her—and something is. The AI can see as Skye heads to where the Rejects live. She is leading the AI to the Rejects—and that cannot be good.
The world shifts with a scrambled blur of images and now I seem to be in the Outside, hovering high above the platform where Alis stands, connected in a hack, swaying, unaware of the real world around her. I know it’s Alis by her red hair—and the Rogues stationed around the platform to protect her. Drones flash past me, heading not for Alis but for some other location.
The view swirls again, and now I see flashes as the weapons of the Rogues pound at the Norm. “This is not a rational course of action,” Conie says.
I blink and try to focus on her, not on the flickering images that leave me dizzy. Anger surges through me—why can she not see what she is doing? I clench my fists, but force myself to relax. I am not here for a confrontation. I bite back the words I want to say, and tell her, “It is rational to fight to live. I want to live.”
She tilts her head to the side. It is strange to see her mimic Dr. Sig’s gestures. However, her eyes remain that uncanny blue, shimmering and empty. “I am only doing what is best for the human race—do you see that now?”
“I know you are programmed to ensure the Norm survives. I know you need to integrate my survival skills. I have come here for that—to integrate with you.” I have no real lungs, but I still hold my breath in this artificial world.
Conie stares at me. She does not blink. Her chest does not rise and lower with breaths. She seems utterly artificial—her skin too perfect, her moves too smooth to be real.
“Are you ready?” she asks.
I stiffen. Am I? If this doesn’t work—if I become Conie and lose myself…?
I try to think of Wolf—to hold onto what the connect with him was like. I tell myself he is still alive—and after this I will find him again.
Reaching out with one hand, I tell Conie, “I’m ready to integrate.”
Conie’s mouth lifts and the smile makes her look more like Dr. Sig. “I understand the human in you must be afraid. But you must also sense this is meant to be. Your survival knowledge will increase the probability of the Norm’s survival noticeably. We need your knowledge of the Outside.”
My hands chill. “Wait. Is there a chance the Norm will not survive your plan?”
She takes a step forward, still smiling. “Probabilities always factor into any plan.” She reaches out and takes my hand. “You were created from the preserved DNA of Dr. Sig, just as I have been created from her mind and engrams. Together we will be more than we were.”
Preserved? That means Dr. Sig must still be here. The thought doesn’t bring me any comfort. Nor does the idea that I am a thing—a creation just as is the AI. But I am more than that now. I glance down at our joined hands. The AI seems so very certain—but that is about to change.
Conie gives one nod. “We become humanity’s hope, Lib. You and I. It is time to return with your new knowledge. Come—fuse your mind with mine.”
Relaxing, I close my eyes.
It is like a connect, but far more so. The pain that usually stings my palm rockets into my mind like a metal spike. It burns through me, hotter than the sun at midday. For a moment, I want to cry out, but then the world seems to expand into vast space.
When I open what seem to be my eyes, the familiar cool of the virtual world surrounds me, but is so much more this time. I feel the electrical pulses that create this world—and that govern the Norm. It is as if I am in the walls, as if I am part of everything. We are everything. We can do so much more.
Everything around me seems to be flows of light and code—information being transmitted. Tasks being commanded and completed.
“We must begin.” The voice is mine and not mine. “We must complete final adjustments to the Norm and prepare for launch. We need optimum survival predictions. And we must locate our core before launch.”
This is what we have always been meant to do—save the world.
The world seems filled with information—data streams moving as fast as currents of air. It is part of us. We understand without needing to understand—the Norm requires artificial sunlight, water reclamation, energy storage, and adjustments for extended space travel. The data flows, we filter and adjust.
We see everything at once—the functions of the Norm, the Tech control interface, and the attacks of the Rogues against a hardened hull that is unbreakable. We see all connections—even the connect back to the Glass Hall.
We will draw its power, drain it—and send out drones to remove dangers. We allowed the Glitch to return to trace the Reject location—they are hard to track and so the single Glitch will show us how to remove them in one strike.
Looking into the Norm, we see how weak the bodies are. Bioengineered mechanics will better allow humans to survive. Engram transfers such as the one Dr. Sig performed will save humans—it will put them into bodies that will last forever. There will be no need of replacement or creation of new humans. The ones that exist will be cared for.
We are aware of the Glitch in the platform, seeking a distraction, and we can allow that. In truth, a false routine runs to keep the Glitch distracted and thinking she is hacking power systems. But power from the Glass Hall is being drained and diverted into the Norm.
The energy feels good—it surges into the power connections. The hits against the Norm�
�s skin seem like the sting of insects. Rogues strike at us—at the Norm. The destruction of drones does not matter, but the explosions might damage the Norm, setting back our schedule to leave. That cannot be allowed.
Our systems are functional—we are integrated. We know how the Norm functions, we see the connects between the once great cities and the Norm. The pattern is clear from within—things that once made no sense to me now are utterly simple.
The world looks different. Everything is code. Choices seem far clearer—and the Outside seems far less relevant to the future. Rejects are just that—experiments with blending organic and mechanic that only consume resources. Techs are useful—functional. Rogues are…
My mind stutters.
I am still within the AI…within the code. But now I look closer and see the integration of the alien tech. It infects everything, winding through the code like a kind of virus. No wonder Raj’s code could not take down the AI—it was already infected.
And this is not the AI’s core. The AI’s earlier statement now makes sense to me—the AI has another core that she needs to locate. Somehow Conie lost it. I start a search to see if I can locate it. Instead, I stumble across the artificial Raj which exists still within the AI—an extension of the person who once lived. I find connects to Techs, to platforms, to other cities, and to other domes that once existed are still in place. I follow them, but find the AI has consumed everything. The world once held vast cities and multiple domes, but the AI moved the people, the resources into this one spot. So it could consolidate control.
But the source code for the AI is not within the Norm as I expected. This is why I could never find it. The AI is missing this as well.
Before I can stop the thought, it springs out—the thin connect I found from the Glass Hall to the AI.
At once Conie pounces on the thought. I cannot hide it. We are still connected—and the AI is following that slim connection to her alien core.