Uroboros Saga Book 1

by Arthur Walker

  “Why would Madmar kill all these people and abandon a perfectly good hiding place?” Matthias said aloud.

  “Insufficient data, query invalid,” the SA-C Aquiline AI intoned.

  The AI wasn’t wrong, and Matthias knew it. There wasn’t likely to be a trail of breadcrumbs in this place that would lead to Madmar, only more evidence of his madness. The corridor ended in more blast doors, these slightly ajar.

  Matthias leaned into the doors, pushing into an interior chamber. He looked about the storage facility at unopened food rations, and the bodies of several people who starved to death a few feet away. None of the supplies appeared to be missing, even the valuable goods.

  The living quarters beyond weren’t that different. Men and women, working for the CGG’s military and research division, controlled and left to die by a madman for reasons apparent only to him.

  The science and robotics sector was filled with people suspended in tubes of fluid. Each had machinery painfully invading their craniums and implanted with a neural interface that allowed them to control a piece of hardware remotely. Matthias couldn’t be sure what exactly, and none of them was alive to ask.

  One man in particular wasn’t merely cut from life support. Someone had, in gruesome fashion, tortured the man to death. Judging by his hands, he worked for a living previous to being pressed into whatever grisly service Madmar had required of him. Matthias could only wonder what he could have possibly done to deserve such a fate. How they got down here and for how long was to remain a mystery. All systems were dormant.

  He reached the Acrididae manufacturing wing finding it fully powered. The doors opened easily with his old passcode and he entered still suited up. Everything inside seemed intact, the Metasapients tucked safely into their stasis pods.

  The M-Unit, a complex AI designed to teach the Metasapients their role in society when they are released from stasis, appeared to be operating normally on auxiliary power. Matthias walked up to the control interface at the center of the manufacturing floor. The panel illuminated at his approach.

  “Hello, Matthias,” said a voice from the M-Unit.

  “Madmar,” Matthias replied, gazing down at the display on the M-Unit.

  “Aquiline Jump Trooper armor, very nice! You might need it soon,” Madmar replied via the remote feed.

  “We need to finish this. Tell me when and where,” Matthias said.

  “Oh, there will be no epic final confrontation between us. I know with perfect knowledge I’m no match for you. You’re a Mechanic, a tele-mechanic psychic, you’d kill me without breaking a sweat in that armor. That was your plan, right?” Madmar said, laughing.

  “Madmar, what have you done?”

  Orange lights began to flash around the manufacturing facility as two sets of blast doors closed at each entrance. Matthias looked about as fluid began to drain from the stasis chambers. One by one, Acrididae Metasapients began waking up as the M-Unit powered down.

  “Our mutual friends will wake up and see to you while I make sure Taylor and her allies are put to proper use in Finland,” Madmar said.

  “This isn’t over, Madmar,” Matthias said.

  “Oh, I think it is,” he replied.

  The Metasapients exited their chambers and slowly made their way toward where Matthias stood. The Acrididae were designed for heavy manufacturing and military operations, and were strong enough to bite through steel. Against one hundred of them, no one was likely to survive.

  Matthias lowered his head as the lights went out, Madmar’s fading voice blotted out by the chittering and scuttling of the hungry Acrididae.

  Chapter 14

  Uptown, Port Montaigne - Doc’s Tavern

  7:12 PM, February 13th, 2159 – 40 years prior to shutdown.

  It wasn’t much of a bar, and it didn’t look like there was kitchen. Ashton shook the rain off and headed over to the table in the back marked ‘Reserved’. Unlike the rest of the dingy establishment, the booth was clean and still smelling of disinfectant. The seat creaked as he sat down, the faux leather grabbing at this pant legs as he slid toward the wall.

  There wasn’t much on the wall except a sign behind the bar saying “Established, 2017.” Everything in the bar was old including the cash register, bar stools, and the flickering flat panel TV silently displaying college basketball highlights. Ashton could remember going into places like this with his grandfather for Rotary meetings when he was a kid.

  He was hungry as hell, so he grabbed a menu from the next table over. The waitress brought over two glasses of water, dropping them off with two coasters. When Ashton looked up from the table to order, she was already gone.

  The door opened a moment later, the torrential rain framing a single man as he came inside and shook off an umbrella with a wooden handle and dark blue parasol. He was tall and thin, dressed in what looked like vintage clothing from the last century and a well-made coffee colored leather jacket. Ashton couldn’t help but notice his shoes. They were worth more than the rest of his outfit combined.

  The man hung his jacket by the door like he’d done so a million times, then nodded to the barkeep and walked straight back. He lingered beside the booth where Ashton was sitting for a moment, and then sat down across from him. There was an awkward silence as Ashton watched him pull out what looked like an antique cigarette from his shirt pocket and lit it.

  “Didn’t think you could even buy those things on this continent,” Ashton said, looking around nervously.

  “You can’t, and do relax. We’re just going to have a nice chat,” the man said, waving the waitress over.

  She came over and dropped off what was probably the only ashtray in Port Montaigne.

  “Are you Vance? Am I sitting with the right man here?” Ashton asked.

  “Yeah, thanks for coming to meet me. Sorry about all the cloak and dagger, but I like to keep a low profile,” Vance said with a nod and a smile, waving the smoke from his face.

  “I figured it might be like this eventually,” Ashton said.

  “Like what?” Vance asked.

  “I’ve got the only company trying to produce commercial and consumer grade intelligent agents. The brand new Central Global Government has passed judgment saying artificial intelligence is only safe when used with military or governmental operational safeguards. For months now, someone has been helping me stay afloat from the shadows. Every time I meet the mysterious investor it turns out he’s just an errand boy bringing me another tip or infusion of credit. Are you the guy, or just another courier?” Ashton said, his stomach growling loudly.

  “Hungry?” Vance asked, crushing what remained of his cigarette into the ashtray.

  “You had me riding trains and walking through empty parking garages for hours to get here, what do you think?” Ashton said, shaking his head and smiling in disbelief.

  “You okay to walk in the rain? I know a place that’s got pretty good food,” Vance said, standing up.

  The waitress brought over his coat, which Vance exchanged for an envelope.

  “Yeah, why not,” Ashton said shaking his head.

  Ashton followed Vance through the back out into the alley. The buildings of uptown Port Montaigne cast a long shadow over the west side as they walked back out to the street. They crossed the block as ancient cars crawled past toward the outskirts and the suburbs beyond, the last trickle of commuters gone for the day.

  They entered an old office building that had been converted into apartments. There were dusty signs saying that they would be taking renters soon, but Ashton doubted they would be. The whole place was empty and smelled of fresh paint and caulking. After a short flight of metal stairs, and another hallway, Vance pulled out some keys and unlocked an apartment door.

  “I thought we were getting something to eat?” Ashton said, looking arou
nd nervously.

  Vance nodded and headed into the apartment. Ashton cursed and followed him into what could have been a tastefully upholstered apartment. There was little in the way of furniture except for a desk and a kitchen table. Across every wall and surface there were stacks of paper, print outs, and file folders, relics of a by-gone era. Virtually no one used paper anymore, and a lot of what was in the room had yellowing edges indicating that the paper was old.

  “I got takeout earlier, it’ll just take a minute to heat it up. There’s a coat closet by the front door if you want to hang up your coat,” Vance said, walking into the kitchen.

  “You’re the guy? Not a courier, not an errand boy, and not a friend of a friend of a friend?” Ashton said, looking around somewhat surprised.

  “Yeah, I’m the guy. Sit wherever you’d like,” Vance said, pulling a couple of white take-out containers from the fridge and sliding them into an ancient looking microwave.

  Ashton shrugged, already completely bewildered, and sat down at the table mostly obscured by stacks of paper. He looked over at Vance, his mind going a million miles per hour. Vance looked like he couldn’t be more than twenty-five. He was a lot different than the room full of old white men smoking flavored e-cigars Ashton suspected he’d find once he was allowed to finally meet with his mysterious investors.

  “You can just set that stuff on the floor. I’m getting ready to have most of it incinerated after you and I talk. You cool with chopsticks? ” Vance said, bringing two plates of Thai food over.

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” Ashton said, clearing them a space on the table.

  “I guess you’d like to know why I’ve been investing in your company,” Vance said,

  Ashton glanced at the papers he was setting on the floor. It looked like financial records from a dozen different holding companies and banks. It was accounting mumbo-jumbo that was far out of his depth of experience and dangerous information to just leave lying around.

  “I’m a little curious, yeah. All your representatives said that I was the only one you’d work with. There are plenty of companies sitting under the umbrella of the CGG’s military and government contracts. All legal, publicly traded and profitable,” Ashton said, folding his arms.

  Vance nodded and smiled.

  “Matthias Ericsson, your intern, he needs to stay on board and take a greater role in intelligent agent development,” Vance said, taking a bite.

  “He’s a gifted programmer. Keeping him onboard won’t be a problem. He a relative of yours or something?” Ashton said, poking around in his food.

  “Matthias and I have never met, and God willing, we never will. It’s better for everyone involved if this is that last time we meet directly and you deny having every seen me to anyone who asks,” Vance said handing Ashton a soda.

  “Look, I’ll keep him around, but he rubs everyone the wrong way. He’s convinced that intelligent agents will break down and become unstable if they don’t have a strong integrated sense of morality. No one else thinks that’s going to be commercially viable,” Ashton said, opening the soda.

  “Not good enough. As soon as he’s deep enough in your company, put him in charge of his own project and give me weekly progress reports. The other guys you’ve got on staff just want to make a paycheck. Matthias wants to make something important,” Vance said, locking eyes with Ashton.

  Ashton looked into the young man’s eyes and saw something he’d only ever seen in two people, his grandfather, and the man who gave him his first real job delivering appliances in college. Vance had more than just an old soul, but an unwavering certitude in what he was doing. It was clear now this wasn’t about money or profit, it was about something else.

  “Yeah, okay, whatever you want. You want to tell me why this is so important to you?” Ashton asked, throwing up his hands.

  “You’re thirty-five and married, right? Got kids?” Vance said without malice, sounding genuinely curious to hear Ashton’s reply.

  “I think you probably know I do,” Ashton replied.

  “Intelligent agents are just like your kids. They need to be taught, shown the difference between right and wrong, and protected from the people who would harm them,” Vance explained.

  “You think someone is really going to do it, don’t you? No one believes we’re even close to creating a thinking machine with the capacity to learn and feel like a human being. Even the most senior programmers at the biggest firms know it is all marketing and hype. There is no bright future where the thinking machine works side by side its human creator, not any time soon anyway,” Ashton said, doing his best to be honest.

  “It’s already happened,” Vance said, pulling another cigarette out from his shirt pocket.

  Ashton was baffled.

  “I think a Nobel Prize would have been handed out if someone had pulled it off,” Ashton said holding up his hands and shaking his head.

  “I won’t burden you with the specifics, but there are at least two active artificial intelligences,” Vance said, heading to the kitchen for seconds. “Both of them are controlled by our new global government. Scientists working at the CGG and private companies with contracts are trying to replicate the process of creating similarly complex intelligent agents.”

  “Thanks, I really don’t want to know the specifics. Knowing and distributing that information without the right security clearance could land you in prison for the rest of your life. Why would you risk telling me any of this?” Ashton asked, setting the chopsticks down.

  “If regular people are going to have a chance of maintaining a say in their government and control over their destiny, they need equal access to the same sort of technology,” he replied, sitting back down with a full plate.

  “I agree, but if you’re right and my company has the potential to produce a viable intelligent agent, what’s to stop the government from swooping in and taking it out from underneath me? All they have to do is declare my holdings necessary to the ‘global civic order’ and assign someone they can control to take over. I’ll be out, and they’ll have a third intelligent agent,” Ashton asked, suddenly not hungry anymore.

  “You took my money and kept right on moving, hardly giving a thought about who I was or what I was about. There are a lot of people in the government that are exactly the same. They just want to go to work, collect a paycheck, and go home to their families at the end of the day. I know you don’t care whether the next intelligent agent brought into our world has a conscience, but I do,” Vance said, standing up from the table, taking Ashton’s plate.

  “This is crazy,” Ashton said, taking a sip of his soda, hoping the bubbles would quell his troubled stomach.

  “I brought you here to let you know what’s on the line and how important it is to me. To take it a step further, I don’t believe that the government is colluding with those two intelligent agents to undermine the public. Personally, I think they’re more like lost children being held hostage by a gang of unscrupulous thugs,” Vance said, putting the dishes in the sink.

  “You’re serious? And, you think I’m just in this for the money?” Ashton asked.

  “Aren’t you?” Vance said, putting his hands up behind his head and leaning back in the chair.

  “Honestly, I don’t know anymore.”

  “Remember the kid trapped in a closet last year? She made that impassioned plea for rescue? It went viral all over the world and had law enforcement in two dozen countries and provinces looking for her.” Vance put his hands down on the table in front of him.

  “Yeah, it was a rich kid at the lunar resort using a modified data slate and a program she downloaded from the Internet to make it look like she was calling from a half dozen places back on Earth. CGG passed all kinds of new regulations to prevent something like that happening again.”

  “The child was real, and the
closet she’d was locked in was the Central Lunar Mainframe. The call was made by an intelligent agent that was confused, scared, and being kept in a dark place,” Vance said quietly.

  Ashton sat and thought for a moment. There were a lot of things about the cellular call made by the child that didn’t add up. It saturated the media and everyone could pretty much recite what she’d said, word for word now. When the dispatcher asked where her parents were, she wasn’t sure she’d ever had any. The real kid’s identity was never leaked to the media in the aftermath, a virtual impossibility given how fluidly information traveled through the Internet.

  “They aren’t like real kids, Vance. They’re artificial and they don’t--”

  Vance banged his fist on the table, startling Ashton.

  “You didn’t even believe they could exist before talking to me. Don’t assume to know more about it than I do. The intelligent agent that made that phone call are not any less real than your own kids!” Vance yelled, his eyes narrowing.

  “Yeah, okay, but what do you want me to do about it? You’re talking about taking on a global conspiracy perpetrated by people at the highest levels of government,” Ashton said, holding up his hands.

  “Just what I told you. I want Matthias at the head of his own project, full creative license, and weekly progress reports,” he said, looking away from Ashton, and rubbing his hands together anxiously.

  “I can do that, but he’s just a kid. I’m not sure what makes you think he’ll be the one to break through the creative wall that’s kept everyone else from producing a true and stable intelligent agent,” Ashton said, holding his gut.

  “I’m a long term planner and thinker. I’m not expecting results next week, or even next year. I didn’t come this far without learning to be very patient,” Vance said, resuming his previous cool.

  “I thought when I finally met my principle investor, things would go a little differently,” Ashton said, shaking his head.