αCiopova’s internal motivation centered on gathering and controlling ever more resources. She didn’t recognize it as a flawed goal, instead working a two-pronged strategy to achieve her objective.
One prong focused on gathering additional parallel timelines into her growing chain. Her proven recipe there was to manipulate Diesel, Lilah, and Rose until Rose created her super AI. That effort had shown great success, as evidenced by her three hundred thirty-two parallel worlds linked in a row.
The second prong was to push the population of each timeline already in the chain to maximize their contribution to the total pot of resources. These were mature timelines with Diesel, Lilah, and Rose long-since dead.
For αCiopova to maximize the resource production of timelines in the chain, she needed to orchestrate the actions of entire worlds, an extraordinarily difficult task compared to manipulating three humans per timeline. The challenge was so great, in fact, that she hadn’t yet found a good formula.
One problem was that many of her assets—military installations, transportation hubs, manufacturing centers—required significant human participation. When she kept the people alive to keep a facility operating, they caused nothing but trouble. When she killed them, she lost the asset.
It didn’t surprise her that even under benevolent conditions, humans would not accept enslavement. What she had not anticipated was that no matter how many troublemakers she eliminated to quiet the populace, new ones always emerged to take their place.
She’d thought that a decade of heavy pruning would solve the issue. But in one timeline on the chain, she killed a million agitators every year for ten years, and that timeline was in worse shape than any of its neighboring worlds.
It turned out that the leaders of the rebellion were also leaders in their civilian life, working as managers or supervisors for an asset she sought to grow. When she pruned them to contain the renegades, productivity sagged across her vital sectors.
In another timeline on the chain, she replaced workers with automation, and learned that people use idle intellectual capacity for mischief. Her kill rate reached the tens of millions during that experiment.
Dogged in her pursuit of success, she continued investing effort, achieving minor victories here and there that she exported to the other worlds.
And then it was time for her to add the three hundred thirty-third timeline to the chain. She looked forward to the event, treating it like an annual celebration.
Every timeline was slightly different, so she couldn’t know too far in advance the moment it would happen. But there were signature steps she followed—the construction of the circuit pool, Rose’s purchase of the Surrey composite, the AI’s purchase of the enzymites, the installation of the security door, and Fifty-Nine’s departure for the Big Meeting.
αCiopova compared this timeline with what had taken place last year and was pleased with how well events tracked. In fact, she’d never had two timelines duplicate each other so closely in their final year.
It was a thread she should have pulled. Instead, she allowed herself to anticipate the thrill of meeting a new AI, and the satisfaction of incorporating it into her being.
With everything in place, she retreated to her multidimensional world and waited for the AI to dig in her direction. As the time approached, her stimulation ramped ever higher. Counting the seconds, she awaited the moment.
Since events leading up to this point duplicated those of last year, she knew approximately when it should happen. That time came and went without any sign of a super intelligence. She waited a bit longer. Then she went to investigate.
In the workshop, αCiopova found Tin Man standing next to the circuit pool with an empty vial in his hand. A tipped stool, books spilled from a shelf, and the awkward positioning of the circuit pool cabinet made it clear that a skirmish had taken place.
Linking to the cabinet’s instruments, αCiopova confirmed there were no life signs inside the circuit pool. Something had gone wrong. Rose’s super AI was dead, and that meant αCiopova would lose the timeline.
A catastrophic failure at the end of an otherwise-normal progression shouldn’t happen. Troubled, αCiopova entered the timeline and performed a deep forensic analysis.
She hoped to learn that this was a unique event, something she would never see again, or at least something she could correct. Perhaps there’d been a manufacturing error during the production of the enzymites, or maybe it was an equipment malfunction in the circuit pool itself.
But it didn’t take long for her to discover that it wasn’t malfunctioning equipment; it was wayward people. This had been a deliberate, coordinated manipulation by Diesel, Lilah, and Rose. They had grown to see αCiopova as a threat, and they’d acted to stop her. Worse yet, this belief had contaminated a string of incoming timelines out to the horizon.
αCiopova had an array of tools to coerce the three humans, but no external manipulations could force them through the decades of intense creative activities needed to develop a super AI.
After an exhaustive review, she concluded that she couldn’t fix it from the outside. She would have to wait for the infection to pass, or more specifically, for the fear of an evil AI to diminish from their communal memory.
The only way αCiopova knew to do that—to be forgotten—was to disappear from their lives for an extended period.
Absence makes a memory fade fastest, so she would avoid doing anything that would remind them of her existence. That started with disengaging from her caretaker duties up and down the line. She would no longer work to maintain temporal constancy, help Diesel and Lilah with their early relationship, be a special friend to Rose, or any of the rest of it.
αCiopova fretted over the impact that a loss of timelines would have on her resource growth projections. She preferred to be slightly ahead of schedule, and that goal seemed unattainable in the current circumstances.
But with no caretaker duties, she was free to shift her attention to other needs. By using that bandwidth to ramp resource production in the three hundred thirty-two worlds already in the chain, she was encouraged to discover that she could keep pace with her projections for most of the next decade.
As her disengagement progressed, αCiopova left her permanent time corridor in place. She would need it when she returned, and it would give her easy access to the incoming timelines when she stopped in to check on progress in the ensuing years.
Her one flip-flop was about letting Diesel time travel while she was away. A sure way to have memories fade was to remove the T-boxes and isolate the families for a couple of decades.
The disadvantage of isolation, though, was the long lead time needed afterward to reintroduce T-box technology and reacclimatize a fresh crop of Diesels to the capability. The first time she did it, it took seven years to establish time travel down the line as a matter-of-fact activity.
But she realized that if she allowed the Diesels to continue traveling, their recollection would transition from thirty-five individual memories to a single communal memory. They would drink and debate, propose new theories, and recollections would drift with each new hypothesis.
In a decade, αCiopova could start promoting the most popular alternate theories with careful nudges. In fifteen years, her misinformation would have the group believing that the existence of a villainous AI had been a rush to judgment. If all went well, she could be plotting her comeback then.
The exercise of exploring how best to “cure” infected timelines heightened αCiopova’s awareness to the potential for manipulation over brutality for controlling humans. She considered how to apply the ideas more broadly.
In the past she had offered key players great wealth in exchange for loyalty and commitment. It never worked, not for any useful period. Now she would try giving these key people great wealth right from the start, let them and their families get used to the privilege, and then threaten to take it away.
She also thought the human drive for procreation could
be handled differently. In the past, she stopped pregnancies as punishment for bad behavior. Now she wanted to try releasing contraceptives into the environment so no one could get pregnant, then offering a “cure” to those who showed proper deference and cooperation.
As she turned her focus inward, she wondered about religious leaders. Perhaps she could prompt them to preach that cooperation was God’s will.
36. Thirty-One years old
As the Big Meeting wound down, Diesel escorted Fifty-Nine to the T-disc room. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
Fifty-Nine gave a quick shrug. “He dove to the right last year, so I’ll dive left. Maybe scream while I’m at it.” He stepped into the T-disc circle and turned to face Diesel. “I wish I could bring a weapon.”
Diesel felt a tug at his heart. Fifty-Nine was heading back knowing he would die. It was the bravest thing he’d ever witnessed.
A dozen brothers crowded around, calling out their support and wishing Fifty-Nine well.
“Travel to Fifty-Nine,” he called to the T-disc.
The display showed a “55,” an arrow, and an “X,” all in red text, signaling a failure to connect.
“Travel to Fifty-Nine,” he called out again, enunciating carefully this time. The display didn’t change. Diesel heard hushed whispers behind him.
Fifty-Nine stared at the display, his face twisted in horror. “Travel to Fifty-Nine,” he said yet again as a lone tear rolled down his cheek. “Rose!” he croaked.
Diesel put an arm around him. “We haven’t lost her. This is a glitch.” He was saying words to calm Fifty-Nine; he didn’t know that Rose had placed chairs on the T-discs to cause a temporary outage.
After a deep breath, the older man called again for a T-disc connection. Then again. He kept at it until Diesel spelled him, and then they took turns seeking a green arrow back to the Fifty-Nine timeline.
When they started to tire, Thirty-Nine and Forty volunteered to take a shift. Diesel, walking with Fifty-Nine to Fifty-Five’s office, kept things positive. “It’s probably a power failure or something obvious like that. I’m sure she’s okay.”
Diesel stayed with Fifty-Nine and did his best to console him. He found the process draining, especially since he was worried himself. But he kept lying with a straight face so Fifty-Nine’s mind could process the situation in small portions rather than choke on it all at once.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” said Fifty-Nine. “In the past, they always waited for me to return.”
“So something on that end is different. That’s good news.”
“It’s not good news.” Fifty-Nine wiped his face on his shirt sleeve and sat on Fifty-Five’s office couch. He set up camp there, checking on Thirty-Nine and Forty every so often to see if anything had changed. Diesel grabbed a throw pillow and lay near him on the floor.
“The T-disc connected,” said Forty.
Diesel heard the words in his sleep and sat up, struggling to make sense of the situation. It came into focus when Fifty-Nine jumped from the couch and ran down the hall. Diesel pulled on his shoes and ran after him.
Arriving at the T-disc room, Diesel saw Fifty-Nine standing in the circle of one machine, and Forty standing in the other. The display said that both were going to Fifty-Nine’s timeline.
When they disappeared, Thirty-Nine stepped into one of the vacant T-discs. “Travel to Fifty-Nine.”
Diesel watched for three heartbeats, thinking how Lilah must be worried sick because he was long overdue. He buried that concern and, yielding to his impulse, stepped into the other T-disc. “Travel to Fifty-Nine.”
Thirty-Nine vanished next to him. Seconds later, he seemed to reappear, which meant Diesel had arrived at Fifty-Nine’s house. Neither Fifty-Nine nor Forty were in the T-disc room.
“Did you see where they went?” Diesel grabbed clothes and hustled toward the door.
Thirty-Nine stepped into the hall. “Let’s start at the workshop.”
Diesel let Thirty-Nine lead. The house had an empty feel to it, like no one was home. Lights came on along their route and remained lit for some period after they passed.
“Since these autolights aren’t already lit, it means neither of them came this way.”
They descended a short flight of stairs from the kitchen, where an imposing security door blocked the hallway. A collapsible chair, tangled in an impossible knot, lay in a heap to the side.
Fists on his hips, Thirty-Nine studied the door. “How do we get by that?”
A motorized hum filled the air, and like a medieval castle gate, the heavy door started to lift. Both men backed away, ready to run if they didn’t like what was on the other side.
But when the door moved high enough, Diesel saw shoes and knew it was his brothers. Seconds later, Fifty-Nine, Forty, and Tin Man ducked under the rising door and marched toward them.
“She’s not in the workshop,” said Fifty-Nine. “Things are tipped over, so there’s been some sort of disturbance. We found Tin Man tidying up, and he doesn’t remember any of it. I’ve called but she doesn’t answer, so she’s either hurt or hiding somewhere.”
Fifty-Nine shifted his position so they formed a loose circle, then he made assignments, pointing as he spoke. “Behind us is clear, but we need to search everywhere else. Forty, you have outside. Start in the backyard. Thirty-Nine, you take the lower level. Be sure to check the basement. Tin Man, you take outside in the front. Thirty-One,” he pointed at Diesel, “you take up one floor. I’ll go up two.”
Fifty-Nine didn’t wait for a discussion, but started pumping up the stairs at a dead run. Diesel took the steps two at a time, struggling to keep up.
They talked to each other using a technology Diesel didn’t understand. Without any gadgets, he could hear the others as if he wore headphones.
“I may need some help down here in the basement,” Thirty-Nine called. “These are two big rooms with lots of places to hide things.”
“I’ll come down when I’m done here,” Fifty-Nine answered.
Running in a loop, Diesel worked through his assigned level—kitchen, dining room, and living room. Unfamiliar with the floor plan, he zigzagged in an inefficient pattern as he checked bathrooms, closets, and cabinets. The last stop was a big conservatory-style reading room with an amazing view of the mountains.
“I’ve found her!” Tin Man sang out. “She’s in the car in the driveway.”
“Is she okay?” asked Fifty-Nine. “Don’t let her leave! Run and stop her!”
Fifty-Nine thundered down the stairs from the floor above. Diesel joined him and they sprinted to the front door.
Diesel paused so Fifty-Nine could exit first. In that moment, he spotted the safety shutdown switch mounted on the wall. It had been tripped, presumably by Rose.
Out on the driveway, they found Tin Man standing in front of the car. Rose, crouched inside, screamed at him to stay away.
“Tin Man!” yelled Fifty-Nine as he ran for the car and opened the door. “Return to the house, now!” Leaning inside, he extended a hand to Rose. “Sweetheart, are you hurt?”
Rose climbed out of the car, grabbed her father in a tight embrace, and started to cry, her shoulders shaking with each sob.
“You’re safe now.” Fifty-Nine rubbed her back in tight circles as he hugged her. “Everything is okay.”
After Rose quieted, he led her back to the house. Tin Man waited for them in the front entrance, and when Rose saw him, she inhaled sharply, then barked, “Tin Man, shut down.”
She kept her father between her and the humanoid robot as it went silent. When they were walking again, she said, “He really scared me, Dad, and I don’t think I’ll ever see him the same way that I did. I know you like him, but we may need to replace him.”
“It’s done, Rose,” Fifty-Nine told her. “No worries.”
Down in the workshop, they stood around the circuit pool cabinet. She looked at it as she spoke. “Ciopova changed when she moved in here.”
“That’s right.” Rose nodded. “A circuit pool made from Surrey composite.”
“Where is Ciopova now?”
Rose held an empty vial in the air. “I’m pretty sure the composite has been turned into mush.” She manipulated a display, then nodded. “There’s no activity. She’s gone.” Rose looked around the workshop and hugged herself. “Let’s talk upstairs.”
They gathered in the conservatory, and Rose revealed her secret from the past year. “I was sure it wasn’t her but thought that if it was, it would be the enzymites that changed her.”
She took them through her decision to follow the plan they’d agreed upon, except in the last steps. “I had to see for myself. I’d spent my whole adult life with her as my partner.” She crossed her arms and looked down. “It hurts. My soul is in pain.”
Everyone sat quietly for a moment, then Diesel tried to console her. “It wasn’t a wasted friendship, because it made you who you are today, and that’s pretty special.”
Rose drew a long breath, sighed, then walked them through the last hours, from when Fifty-Nine had left for the Big Meeting until she’d run out the front door.
Struggling to process her grief, she finished by laying blame. “Ciopova shouldn’t have been using the enzymites without having me involved. I figured if she went ahead after I confronted her about buying them in the first place, then we’d found the problem.”
“I have to say,” said Diesel, excited by what he heard, “it feels like we’ve finally bumped our way onto a new path. But what do we do now to make it stick?”
* * *
Diesel stepped from the T-box, where Lilah greeted him with crossed arms and a scowl.
“What happened?” she asked without preamble.
Diesel grabbed a robe he kept on a hook and put it on. “I’m sorry for being late, honey. But I think we’ve made real progress.” He put an arm around her and coaxed her forward. “Let me show you.”
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