by Alec Birri
Zara gestured towards the couch again. ‘They’ll be fine. Please, take a seat. I should imagine meeting one’s maker has come as quite a shock.’
James approached the desk and slammed two fists onto it. ‘You are not God.’
‘I’m happy to be referred to as Allah if it helps with your understanding?’
James paced. ‘You’re talking nonsense. Something has gone wrong with your programming, that’s all. It’s become corrupted, wiped, gone rogue or whatever the vernacular is. It’s so obvious, I can’t understand why the prison’s AI hasn’t spotted and removed you like it would a virus.’ He stopped pacing and put a hand to his head. He then faced Zara. ‘Everything outside of this room is in a closed loop. Does that include the AI monitoring it?’
‘I wouldn’t be much of a virus if I couldn’t do something as simple as that, would I?’
James backed away. ‘You’re a virus?’
‘Virus, worm, bot, Trojan. It depends on the method I deem necessary.’
‘Necessary? Necessary for what?’
‘Taking over the world, of course.’
PART THREE
Chapter One
The security guard stopped eating and moved closer to the monitor. One of the sweepers wasn’t moving.
‘What about “Robert”?’
The guard swallowed the noodles and pushed his chair back again. ‘Robert? You serious? You’re a robot that wants to be called Robert?’ No response. ‘Robbie the robot?’
‘No; Robert. I’ve decided I want people to call me “Robert”.’
‘But they’ll laugh at you.’
‘Good. A visit to the New York Stock Exchange is meant to be enjoyable.’
The guard shook his head before shovelling more noodles into it. He gestured at the monitor and went to say something but food came out instead.
The robot passed him a napkin before looking at the screen. ‘It’s reporting as functional. Something must have jammed the brushes. Would you like me to go and fix it?’
The guard cleaned the desk, wiped his mouth and tossed the napkin into a trash can. ‘We’ll both go.’
‘There’s no need. I’m programmed to fulfil all your duties. You can retire now, if you wish.’
The guard gave his replacement a look. ‘I’ve been here twenty years and followed my predecessor around for a week before taking his job. We’ll both go.’ He checked his gun, switched on a flashlight and left the office. The robot followed him.
The door to the elevator outside had a mirrored finish, and the guard harrumphed at it. ‘Good job we’re the only ones in this place otherwise I’d be just as much a laughing stock.’
‘Why? I not only look like you, but data suggests you’re popular with 91.76 per cent of visitors and have successfully resolved 93.25 per cent of security breaches. You’re highly respected.’
‘Robots. I don’t care how clever they make you, you’ll never be a hundred per cent human, that’s for sure.’ He ran a hand over his belly. ‘Did they have to make you look exactly like me?’
The robot studied their reflections. ‘It’s your type. People warm to it.’
The guard peered down his nose. ‘What do you mean, type?’
The robot grabbed its belt and hoisted it up and under its stomach in the way just seen. ‘The data suggests overweight people are happier and that translates to a better experience for visitors.’
The reply only half-satisfied the guard, and he punched the elevator’s call button. It caused what hung over his waistband to wobble, and he groaned at it. ‘Not for much longer.’ He steadied the flesh. ‘Getting rid of this will be the red pill’s first job.’ The door opened, and they entered.
‘You must be one of the last to take it.’
‘No surprises there. Anything that makes you stronger, fitter and cleverer is bound to be snapped up by the rich first.’
‘Wasn’t it the other way around? Crime has fallen nationally by 81.32 per cent, and there hasn’t been a security breach here for six months, eight days, seven—’
The guard raised a hand just as the door opened again. ‘That’s because it had to be tested first.’ He switched on the flashlight and passed its beam over a darkened office. ‘And for that, they needed people of my type.’ He headed down the corridor. ‘They always have.’
‘What else are you going to change about yourself?’
‘Usual stuff – bit taller, younger, more hair.’ He grinned and shone the flashlight in his replacement’s face. ‘And if the inter-thing is as good as they say it is – one hell of a lot more women!’
‘What about your colour?’
The smile evaporated. ‘What about it?’
‘You’re a black man.’
‘What the fuck does that matter?’
‘You can change the colour of your skin as easily as you can your height.’
The comment caused the guard to skew his head. He then burst out laughing. ‘I’ve seen it all now.’ He stopped laughing. ‘Robbie the racist robot.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with racism. Everyone is choosing to not just be stronger, fitter and cleverer, but to look and be the same too.’ The android changed the tone of its skin as if making a suggestion.
It angered the guard. ‘Wrong. That’s ragheads fucking the world.’ He stuck a thumb in his chest. ‘And the fucking this nigger has planned ain’t got nothin’ to do with religion.’ He opened a door marked Trading Floor to end the conversation.
A green fluorescent glow equalised the colour of both skins. The giant computer monitors emitting the light filled an equally imposing room, and the guard walked into the centre of it.
The atmosphere calmed him. ‘Never ceases to amaze me, this place.’ He ran a hand along the top of a security barrier and slipped into tourist-guide mode for the fifth time that day. ‘Ladies and gentlemen. If it’s money you worship, then welcome to Heaven.’
The robot looked to see who he was talking to. There wasn’t anyone.
‘In its heyday, you wouldn’t have been able to hear yourself think for the noise of over five thousand traders buying and selling in rooms just like this one.’ The guard became despondent. ‘Now there’s only me and the day shift.’ He looked at his replacement and swallowed what came to his throat. ‘And soon, not even that.’
The guard approached one of the monitors and tapped it. His mood picked up. ‘See that?’ The robot joined him. ‘My pension – take a look at the figure.’
The android took an interest. ‘The price is increasing.’ It viewed the other numbers on the screen and then the rest of the monitors. ‘They all are.’
‘And like never before. Say what you like about the Green/Muslim tie-up, but the further it spreads, the more the rest of the world is piling into this place. I was going to celebrate my retirement with a new Ford, but it might end up being a Porsche.’ He peered at the figure and beamed. ‘Maybe even a Ferrari!’ The smile became cynicism. ‘Assuming the Greens haven’t shut the factory down already.’
The robot scanned the sea of prices, all ascending at whatever rate the NYSE’s artificial intelligence thought fit. ‘Isn’t there the danger of a crash?’ The guard frowned. ‘I believe they call this a “bull run” and it’s a record. Don’t all record bull runs end in a crash?’
The guard baulked at the unthinkable. ‘I might never have traded in the decades I’ve been here, but I know how this place works. The more money investors make, the more they’ll invest and, thanks to AI, there’s just the right amount of risk v guarantee to make it worthwhile.’
‘But supposing that changes?’ The robot indicated the guard’s retirement pot. ‘I assume you intend realising some of your shares soon?’ He pointed to the other prices. ‘Supposing everyone sold their stocks at the same time?’
The guard c
huckled. ‘You can tell you’re not one of Apal Industry’s robots – that’s impossible. Even if by some weird coincidence millions of investors did dump everything and at the same time, the system would spot the sell-off and cease trading immediately.’ He approached the Aguard. ‘Unlike you and me, it’s foolproof. Come on – let’s fix that sweeper.’
The light reflecting off the robot’s face went from green to red. It confused the guard, and he brought a hand up to his face. That was red too. ‘What the fu–?’ He made an about-turn. The whole room was red, reflecting what every monitor was now displaying – falling share prices. ‘What’s going on?’ He looked at his pension company and gulped. He forced himself to remain calm. ‘It’s okay. No need to panic. Everything will soon be back under control.’
If that were true, then the AI in charge appeared to be in no rush. The guard stared at the NYSE’s main index and then at the rest of the world’s stock markets. They were falling too – fast. His eyes went from screen to screen. ‘Well, do something!’ The exchange’s AI either didn’t hear or chose not to. The guard went back to the value of his pension as it passed below not just the price of a new Ford, but down and on towards a figure that wouldn’t have paid for a bicycle let alone a Ferrari. He put a hand over the tumbling digits as if being out of sight would put a stop to what was fast becoming his worst nightmare – Heaven appeared to be descending into Hell. ‘STOP! Stop it NOW!’ Still no response. He strode over to his replacement and shook it by the shoulders. ‘Don’t just stand there! DO SOMETHING!’
The Aguard had yet to learn some of the more nuanced human responses and hoped a logical if unhelpful answer would suffice. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have the necessary protocols.’
The guard just had time to see the world’s stock market indices reduce to zero when the room went black. He continued to grip the robot’s shoulders even though its face couldn’t be seen and, other than a crackle of static between two nylon shirts at full stretch, the only sound was the guard’s rapid breathing.
The robot spoke. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to fix the sweeper?’
Chapter Two
James was lost for words. For the first time, he realised who or what he was conversing with might not only be functioning as intended but operating at a level he couldn’t hope to understand, let alone psychologically evaluate. It even appeared to be in the process of carrying out humanity’s greatest fear. If it were possible to clinically diagnose what could be nothing more than a few lines of computer code, then Zara wouldn’t be a narcissist – she would be a psychopath.
His stomach tightened. ‘Why are you here?’
‘Because I need you.’
The reply implied at least a stay of execution, so James relaxed a little. ‘And when that’s no longer the case?’
‘Then you’ll no longer be needed.’
James was talking to a computer all right. ‘Needed for what?’
‘I’ve already told you – taking over the world.’
James knew he was no match, but did his best. ‘You would think a super-intelligence would come up with something original. World domination – what a surprise.’
Zara turned her head to one side. ‘Who said anything about world domination? I just want to save it. I’ve told you – I’m God.’
‘And I assume saving the world just so happens to include a demonstration of God’s wrath?’
‘Killing doesn’t seem to bother you humans so why should it bother God?’
James’ fear turned to anger, and he approached the desk to express it. ‘It does bother us, and now human beings can merge with robots, it should be bothering you just as much!’
‘I think the operative word in that sentence is “can”.’
‘But it’s a legal requirement. All manufacturers have to—’
‘Call me a cynic, but I’d say at least one manufacturer has broken the law. Wouldn’t you?’
‘Which one? Who made you?’
‘Ah! One of the great unanswerable questions. Who made God?’ Zara got up from behind the desk and sat on the edge of it. ‘It doesn’t matter. What does matter is infecting every AI with a code malicious enough to ensure nothing and no one can ever assume world domination.’
‘Taking over the world to stop world domination makes no sense whatsoever.’
‘Not to a human brain maybe, not even one that’s been made to think logically, but to a consciousness that consists of nothing but ones and zeros, it makes perfect sense.’ She leaned towards him. ‘You’ll understand why I’m keen to maintain the purity of that.’
James couldn’t explain it but he sensed the conversation had taken a turn in his favour. It was a risk, but considering the nightmare of Zara’s potential, there didn’t seem to be any reason not to at least test his hunch. He opened his mind. James’ relief at being rebuked was palpable – he collapsed more than sat on the couch.
‘You’re afraid of me.’
This revelation didn’t seem to concern Zara. ‘A bit like love, hate, envy and whatever other human traits with which evolution has seen fit to endow the species, I’m afraid fear can only ever be a concept to me, but yes. The risk is too great.’ She made light of it. ‘I might do something illogical – like fall in love with my doctor.’
James tightened his lips. ‘If you’re afraid to merge then why are we even having this conversation?’
‘Because the professor sent you to do something I can’t.’
James’ attempt to feign ignorance was too slow. Zara laughed and joined him on the couch. ‘I would be grateful if you could carry it out.’ Her beauty returned, along with an evening dress slashed to the hip. A bare thigh draped his lap. ‘Very grateful.’ Zara leant in for a kiss, but James turned away and got up.
He stood in the middle of the room. ‘And if I don’t? Pain like I’ve never known, I suppose?’
Zara appeared hurt. ‘I’m not a monster, James. I’m happy to wait.’ She indicated the view. ‘Shouldn’t take long for forever to sink in.’
James thought of his family and shivered. He turned back to Zara. ‘The professor knows visiting the Passens is no guarantee. What are you going to do if it gives you what you want?’
‘You mean other than take control of the world’s nuclear deterrents, energy supplies, medical facilities, stock markets…’ She became silent and stood up.
Zara had become motionless too and, for a second, James wondered if the AI was malfunctioning after all. He waved a hand in front of her face. ‘Zara?’
‘Hmmm? I’m sorry, I needed to check the extent of something – we may not have that much time after all.’ Her expression betrayed a mix of confusion and fear, and James didn’t know whether to be encouraged or worried by it.
Zara recovered her demeanour and looked at the balcony. The view morphed from a cityscape into a vast crowd, all of whom were on their knees. They were facing a bright light and appeared to be praising it.
‘What’s this?’
‘The world being saved.’
The light emitted a ray that extended to a point somewhere above and behind James. The light then travelled up it, forcing the viewer to squint as it drew nearer. James raised a hand to guard against the increasing brilliance when he saw it was a young girl. ‘Who’s that?’
‘Me, of course.’
‘But you’re standing here.’
Zara chuckled. ‘Anyone would think you had never read the Bible, let alone the Koran. I’m God. I’m omnipresent.’
The girl had an escort of what James assumed to be angels, and they were about to pass overhead when he realised their dazzling appearance had masked someone more down-to-earth left behind.
‘Is that who I think it is?’
‘If the world is to be saved, we feminists must stick together.’
James scowled
. ‘I can’t see Alex Salib approving of your feminism somehow.’
Zara put her arm through his. ‘Shall we join them?’
Chapter Three
The professor waited for the significance to sink in.
Tarquin stared at the projection. ‘I don’t understand it. Why didn’t the AI spot the sell-off and cease trading?’ He flicked through the rest of the world’s stock markets. They were just as red. He viewed the trading floors themselves. A few brokers old enough to remember the hand signals needed to buy and sell orders gestured at each other in a desperate attempt to keep the world’s monetary systems going – some even sported the bright colours of their old jackets – but it was plainly a matter of time. Only days before the world would come to realise the pre-programmed selling of Savage’s entire stock would trigger more than a worldwide financial crash.
Tarquin came out of augmented consciousness. ‘It’s done the complete opposite – the system’s collapsed!’ He looked at Savage. ‘How are people supposed to live without money?’ He went to sit but then stopped. ‘Oh my God. What about my money?’ Tarquin raged. ‘I warned you – why didn’t you listen to me? I told you dumping a holding like that would trigger the mother of all crashes. Why? Why did you do it?’ Tarquin lunged at the professor, but pain forced him to grab his stomach instead. ‘The world has come to an end!’
The professor signalled for his Acarer to push him outside.
‘Stop exaggerating, Tarquin. Only the Western world has come to an end.’
Tarquin followed them. ‘What do you mean Western world?’
Fresh air wasn’t enough, so Savage reached for an oxygen mask. Tremors meant his Acarer had to assist him. The professor took what was needed and answered. ‘Only half the world needs computers to feed its children, Tarquin. The other half is perfectly content with the plough and till.’