Too Young to Die

by Michael Anderle

“Ah,” Anna said. She sighed. “I know that feeling. Amber, I will make you a promise. If ever our interests diverge and I cut PIVOT loose, I will leave the company in better shape than when I found it.”

  “That’s a fairly low bar,” she pointed out.

  Price laughed. “No one will be in legal trouble and you will be in the black.”

  “That’s more reassuring. We weren’t doing too well.”

  The admission met with a calm smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I really should speak to Dr. DuBois. But, Amber, I appreciate your time—and your candor.”

  “Of course,” she said automatically. She nodded and turned to her breakfast, which was why she missed the look on her boss’ face.

  It was one of confusion.

  Amber had been Anna Price’s first guess for a weak link. It wasn’t that the woman was incompetent—in fact, it was the opposite. Her relentless focus on facts made her far more anxious than her two partners, especially where things such as funding or legalities were concerned.

  After speaking to her, she was sure that whatever problem Jacob was hiding, she didn’t know about it.

  That, in itself, was odd. The PIVOT team seemed close-knit. At least, she thought, there wasn’t a lurking legal or financial issue waiting to overwhelm the company.

  Her lack of success thus far merely made her more wary when she approached DuBois.

  At her insistence, he no longer ate popcorn in the laboratory. Instead, he propped the bags on his desk and looked longingly at them from time to time. When he saw her approaching, he beckoned her over excitedly.

  “The data we’ve received from non-comatose patients is really expanding our parameters,” he told her. “I’ve studied comatose brains for decades, of course, but this is the first time I’ve had the chance to test the differences between comatose and conscious brains undergoing the same stimulus.”

  He also, she noted, did not behave as if something was wrong. The doctor had been her other choice of a weak link, simply because he tended to be incredibly straightforward. If something was wrong, he was likely to tell her about it without realizing it.

  She pored over the data for a few moments. He was correct that it was extraordinary. She could see the data from Justin’s viewing of the arena trial matched hers and Tina’s.

  “It was good to see him in the game,” she told him. “I didn’t speak to him but he had a fine conversation with Tina. He seems to have made great strides. I admit, I was cautious.”

  “It’s good to be cautious with this,” DuBois agreed. “Recovery from head trauma can be so varied. It will be difficult to see the long-term patterns until we have more data. I don’t think it’s overstating the case to say that we lucked out with Justin. His brain was well-adapted to games already and he was therefore able to come on board very quickly.”

  There was no hint of evasiveness in him, goddammit. Price seriously considered, for a moment, locking Jacob in a room until he admitted what was going on.

  She would rather find out about it on her own, however. Thoughtful, she tapped her fingers against her arm.

  “Have you run into any limitations of the game format?” How many ways could she come up with to ask about this? Would they always say everything was fine?

  “No,” the doctor said promptly. “Well…Mrs. Williams going in wasn’t as successful as we thought, but as you noted, Tina is doing well. Finding the general principle of when there should be external communication and when there shouldn’t be will likely be quite difficult.”

  “Mmm.” Jacob came into the lab and she glanced at him. He gave her a tight smile and went to wash his hands and put a lab coat on. In a few minutes, she thought, you and I will have a chat, Mr. Zachary.

  “I didn’t expect the game to be immersive enough,” DuBois said. “My original concept was a few simple puzzles but I was lost on how to deliver them. I hadn’t thought of it then, but the brain does not like to accept places that do not follow the rules of physics, for instance. I worried that the world would be so far from reality that it would be impossible. But the AI has…” He broke off suddenly. “Well, as you can see, the world is developing nicely.”

  Price had been focused on the papers in front of her when she heard the break in his voice and looked at him quickly. “Jacob mentioned that the world is procedurally generated.”

  “Yes,” he said but looked uncertain now. “But…uh, that’s not exactly my area of expertise.”

  The AI. There was no way he wasn’t even a little curious about the AI. Whenever he spoke about anything, he either gave facts or directed his audience to someone else with the facts. Now, he was deflecting.

  “It’s not my area, either,” she said with a smile. “I’m glad your data collection is going well. Come find me if you need anything else.”

  She approached Jacob with the feeling of stalking prey. “Mr. Zachary—a moment?”

  “Yes?” He turned to face her. His shoulders were stiff, but she could see them creeping upward to his neck.

  “I wondered if I could speak to you about naming this laboratory,” Price told him. “It was never officially named, you see, and I remembered you mentioning some of your personal impetus for this project. I wondered if we could name it the Elizabeth Keegan Medical Facility in memory of your grandmother.”

  His jaw dropped. “Ms. Price—ma’am—I…yes, that would be appreciated. It would be an honor. My parents would be thrilled to hear it.”

  Whatever else he was lying about, this was not part of it. She gave him a small smile. “I’ll see it done. Now, remind me—if I were to go into the game again, should I do so in close proximity to Justin or should I choose somewhere else? What would cause the least excess server load for the algorithms? I don’t want to overwhelm the AI and give it too much to…dream up.”

  The flash of panic in his eyes was unmistakable and something clenched in the pit of her stomach that could be either opportunity or misgiving. Her mind raced ahead as he stammered a reply, and she extricated herself from the lab soon after.

  In her office, she sat and stared blankly out the window. She saw none of the other buildings or the reflections on the glass.

  A sentient AI. She wanted to laugh but she also wanted to cry.

  If she were looking for something to cement her legacy—something that would bring untold billions to Diatek and fund as much research as she could ever need—this was it.

  But she had one client, and as much as she spoke to Amber and Nick about making her peace with what she did, she wasn’t ready to see how a military organization would use AI. She clenched her hands and looked at the desk. It was possible they had already made the same leap, wasn’t it?

  Unfortunately, she knew it wasn’t. They’d sniffed around for years and offered century-long contracts for any company that could give them AI.

  Price wasn’t exactly superstitious. She also wasn’t prone to melodrama and honestly, had no time for it. But one thing she knew for certain was that sentient programs raised all kinds of ethical questions that were, quite frankly, beyond her—together with many possibilities that didn’t exactly end well for humanity.

  She doubted Jacob had anything more than a hunch at this point. If he were truly worried, he would have found an excuse to take Justin out of the system. She trusted the PIVOT team implicitly when it came to their patient’s safety.

  Which meant she had time to think. Price nodded and proceeded to do the one thing that had become a critical priority. She had to make it absolutely impossible for any of PIVOT’s servers to contact any of the others Diatek owned.

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  When Tad sent a message to Senator Snelling’s office, he didn’t expect the man to agree to meet with him.

  He definitely didn’t expect him to suggest a small, run-down diner as the venue either. When he arrived, bemused, Snelling was in the process of demolishing an improbably large plate of pancakes with gusto.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” the senato
r told him. “I went running before this and…” He waved to the steaming mug of coffee on the table. “I didn’t want to order you anything else but I know I’ve seen you drinking coffee before.”

  “I didn’t know, uh…”

  “That I go running?” the man asked with a gesture at his potbelly. He laughed at his companion’s expression. “Oh, come on. It’s funny. I show up at the races and I weigh more than any three of the top ten put together. I can’t give up pancakes, though.”

  “My kind of guy,” he said before he could stop himself.

  “Careful. We agreed on that one bill, now it’s pancakes as well—where will it stop?” The man took a bite of bacon.

  Tad ordered when the waitress stopped at the table and took another sip of his coffee. “Well, it’s funny you should mention that…”

  “Oh?” Snelling leaned back in his seat. “I have to say, I never thought you had much of an interest in child cancer.”

  “What? Oh.” He shook his head. “Ah…” He remembered in time that it was supposed to be a good public-relations move and decided not to proclaim loudly that he didn’t care about it. After all, no parent could say the thought of child cancer didn’t bring them out in a cold sweat. “My cousin’s son had a scare a few years back. I saw the event was scheduled and dropped by. This isn’t about that.”

  His companion blinked at him. “This should be good.”

  “Well…” He smiled at him. “You see, there’s a little bill coming up to do with working research costs on different projects into treatment costs.”

  The man’s face went stony. “And?” he asked dangerously.

  “And,” he continued pleasantly, “I’m almost certain it’s a bill a certain CEO is trying to blackmail me into voting for.”

  Snelling put his fork down. “Wait…”

  “Didn’t you ever wonder how the news about Justin leaked?” Tad asked him.

  “Oh, my God.” Snelling looked thoughtful. “So, your vote on the last measure—they were angry with you about that?”

  “It’s a slightly longer story than that, but broadly speaking, yes. Let’s simply say that Justin’s accident gave them a lovely opening to exploit.” He took a deep breath. “And, if we’re honest…I’ve considered caving. More than I care to admit.”

  “What, you can’t walk past people screaming that you’re a horrible father and a child abuser without getting shaken?” The man rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Some of the things people think about us. It’s difficult. It really is.”

  “I’m lucky Mary is as even-keeled as she is,” he said and chose to omit her more bloodthirsty vows of revenge against Metcalfe. “Their first attempt was doctored photos to show me having an affair.”

  “They get most people,” the other man said thoughtfully. “You know, I’ve had to bump a few lobbyist meetings in the past two months and I think I might quietly cancel those.”

  “It’s a good idea,” Tad told him, his tone acerbic. “Anyway, here’s the thing. They want me to vote for this bill and I don’t want to vote for it, but I’ll be damned if I let them set the terms. If I lose, it’ll be on a better bill than that.”

  Snelling’s eyes lit up. “You want to write your own bill.”

  “I have.” Tad took the sample out of his folio and passed it to the other senator.

  The man took it but didn’t start reading. He raised an eyebrow. “So…if you’ve already written it, you don’t need a collaborator.”

  “I need votes,” he said bluntly. “And I don’t have them in my party.”

  “Ahhhh.” Snelling studied him. “So you’re coming across the aisle, and offering…”

  “The chance to vote for a bill you believe in,” he said flatly. “No more, no less.”

  His companion shook his head. “Nope. I want a little more from you.” He put the bill down and tapped it. “I promise you that I will read this and I will either agree with it and want to vote for it, or I will tell you what I do not like and what would get my vote. In return, I want you to do the same for any bills I put forward.”

  Tad, who had been about to explode in fury, uttered a rueful laugh. “Man, you had me going for a second there. Okay, I’ll up the ante again.”

  The other senator laughed. “Bring it on.”

  “Every year, we meet up to renew that pledge,” he said, “and have a beer—my choice of beer, Snelling—and tell each other what we really think of the other’s voting history.”

  Snelling burst out laughing and nodded. “All right. If I agree with this, do you want me to pass it on?”

  “Go for it.”

  “And keep it quiet?”

  Tad sighed. “I…don’t know. You know what? No. I’m not good at all that cloak and dagger shit. I talked to my party and they wouldn’t sign on. If they want to get pissed now that I’m reaching across the aisle, well…how much worse can it get? I’m already informed I’ve torpedoed my chances of being re-elected.”

  “Here’s a little piece of advice. Party whips always say that when you step out of line.” His companion shrugged and remained silent until the waitress had set Tad’s food down and left before he added, “But if this is anything like your thoughts on the last bill, you might have more support than you think. Virtually everyone knows someone who’s had trouble paying for treatment. Most senators have people calling their office about it. Don’t be surprised if you really do have the votes in your party. Now.” He waved his fork. “Eat those pancakes before I do.”

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Justin shook his limbs out and tried to focus. With the countdown dinging above them in the arena, it was hard to focus on anything at all, but he constantly ran over the team’s plan in his head. It had taken several beers and an exceedingly late night to fine-tune it, but in the two days since, they hadn’t found any unexpected weaknesses.

  Task one was to find the closest cache and defensible position.

  Task two would split them up temporarily. Justin and Tina would hightail it to the cache, get the gear and weapons, and return to their “base” to join Lyle. If they saw a second cache, Justin would hurry to retrieve whatever it contained and Tina would continue to Lyle.

  Task three would be when they made a more specific plan for their defense while they waited to see what the other teams did.

  Over the past day and a half, Justin and the dwarf had tested Tina with various weapons. The young man had told Lyle the lie that he merely wanted to see the technique of the world’s “champion.” She’d acquitted herself so well during the first match that he saw no reason to come clean about her lack of training and history.

  To his surprise, she did best not with daggers or fists—which he had assumed would be her forte—but with battle-axes. The same intuitive grasp of fluid dynamics that had made her fighting style so powerful worked even better with a large, heavy weapon.

  Having her in leather armor wasn’t the best complement to a battle-ax, but her character still didn’t have the strength to cope with both plate armor and an ax. They had paid what they had to for the leatherworker’s finest armor upgrades, and he had to admit that she looked good.

  He kept trying not to stare, partially so as to not be rude and partially because he was genuinely afraid that she would kill him. During their date, he had seen that she was short and fairly lean, but she had covered much of her body with layers. The armor left far less to the imagination and highlighted…well, too many things he needed to not think about right now. His only priority at that moment was to focus on the match.

  The Master of Ceremonies sang their praises as the lift began to rise smoothly. Light swelled and broke over them to the sounds of applause. There weren’t many boos yet that he could hear—they hadn’t had the time to attract many people who hated them.

  “In the last match, two of our three teams took the cash prize,” the Master of Ceremonies declared. “Sephith’s Bane, however, opted for the advantage in this match. Do you want to hear what it is?
”

  “I want to see outside this magic cage,” Tina muttered. They had come above ground level and could see the vague outlines of varied terrain around them, but nothing more.

  He laughed as the crowd shouted approval.

  “Sephith’s Bane has been given…” The man paused for effect and the stadium went quiet. “A one-minute head-start.”

  The crowd yelled their approbation as the magical walls came down. Justin tried to tune them out as he turned quickly to scan the area.

  It was a fantasy village of some kind set on rolling terrain with small fields and gardens and two houses. He noticed one two-story house nearby and a cache surprisingly close to it.

  “House,” he called.

  “Agreed,” Lyle responded a moment later.

  “Likewise,” Tina said. “Two caches, one to the left of the house, the other this way.”

  “That one first,” Justin said. “Lyle, see you there.”

  He and Tina leapt off the platform and sprinted down the nearby hill.

  The terrain, this time, wasn’t quite as treacherous under their feet. It was even, he thought in amusement, somewhat pleasant to be there. He recalled any number of idyllic, pastoral scenes in the video games of his youth. During one particularly bad year, he had liked to sit on a rock in his favorite video game forest and fish as the sky faded from day to night and back again.

  The smaller cache revealed a short sword and two fist weapons, as well as a purple health-and-magic potion, and one that read stone skin on the side in spiky script. He grimaced. While he liked the idea in video games where he could feel the effects, he wasn’t sure he wanted to feel stony skin.

  There was no time to lose. A minute was a good head start but it wasn’t nearly enough time to get complacent. He raced back with Tina and was pleased to see that she scanned their surroundings as they ran.

  “If we find a bow, we could station someone in that tree,” she called to him. “It looks like it would be possible to get into it.”