by John Carrick
In Jerusalem, it was the middle of the night; Lao was more likely to have time after his shop closed. The call was answered before the third ring.
On the monitor, Lao smiled. "It's good to see you."
Lao, in his late seventies, was radiantly healthy. If anything, he looked better than when they last spoke.
Fox smiled back. "It's good to see you too."
"How long has it been, ten years now?"
"Twelve," Fox answered.
"You're sure?"
"Almost thirteen."
"I wish I could see her again."
"Pull her up, anytime you like. You still have access."
"I have my own children now. Look..."
In his shop, Lao stood behind a circular counter, he made minute adjustments to the controls of a robotic insect's wings. Finished, he pulled the instruments back.
The insect stood on the plate and ran a check on its controls. It lifted off and buzzed around the shop. The shelves boasted robots of all shapes and sizes. Lao called them automatons, as they didn't do anything but react to stimuli.
The units on the shelves had been sleeping but the bug's test flight caught their attention; heads rose and tracked its path. Lao triggered a remote and the fly returned to the test plate. He powered it down and took a seat at the communications terminal.
"Any luck with the singularity?" Lao asked.
"Not the one we've been looking for," Fox said.
"My fear is that they are one and the same."
Dr. Andrew Fox slumped in his chair as if struck, dumbfounded by the statement.
The first singularity is known as the big bang. The second, which Dr. Fox and Dr. Lao Te had been searching for, was the spark of artificial intelligence.
Lao's statement made Fox nervous. He was afraid it was true.
Years ago, Fox had been the director of a remote controlled tank project, tasked with ending the war along America's southern borders. He had tried to decline, but the government just hijacked him out of his current contract. Threatened with treason, he'd folded.
The first person Fox hired was Dr. Te. Together, they believed it was possible to create an intellect to govern the tanks; they attacked the problem from several angles but failed to create an artificial intelligence. Instead, they wired crippled soldiers into the controls of the tanks. Safe inside the guts of the armored beast, they were bio-mechanically linked to the drive train and fire controls.
As opposed to imprisoning them, the project had the effect of turning the weapon into an extension of the man. It gave him the ability to run at seventy to a hundred kilometers an hour over rough terrain. Enhanced vision to locate and identify the enemy across twenty-three light, heat and audible frequencies, and the mechanical ability to throw a high-explosive shell through a door five thousand meters away.
After the cyber-tank project delivered, Lao and Fox had parted ways. Now, so many years later, it was as if they'd spoken only yesterday.
"I've been working with the interface," Fox said. "I think the Micronix can do more than just communicate."
"Such as?"
"I think it can be detonated," Fox answered.
Lao looked away from the camera.
"It's what it wants. It's what everything is leading towards."
"What do you mean?" Lao asked.
"Towards fire, towards combustion. The Micronix, everything it's been doing. It all leads towards fire. I think it wants to burn."
"Fox, get a hold of yourself. We can't have this conversation if you aren't rational."
"I'm listening."
"Do you know why you called me tonight?"
"Because I trust you? Because I respect you? Because you're the only person I know, who's smarter than I am?" Fox answered.
"Don’t you remember? I told you this once. This is why you called me. You called me because I have a theory about us, humanity, about our role on the planet. Sometimes it haunts me. I think our function in the universe is to burn things. We were created to help push the universe over the edge, so that burnt light outweighs visible light. I believe, that when we reach the pinnacle of expansion, the dark matter of the universe will begin to fall back upon itself, resulting in another big bang, creating everything, all over again. When I hear things like what you just said, I'm reminded that our purpose here may be to consume matter until it's all gone."
"Dr. Te, Sir. This is why I called you. I didn't remember, but this IS a problem. Terillium Can Be Detonated. If you ignite enough, it would consume everything around it. Enough and you'd get the sun."
"But it's impossible, despite my theory, terillium has no burning point. It won't melt. It won't burn. It cannot be detonated. We've been all over this Fox. All of mankind has tried to do this, been trying longer than you, or I have been alive. You know the chemistry, it has to be bonded with nickel, in a vacuum."
"I know the equations. We charge it; it packs on the electrons and repels gravity. The denser it gets, the stronger the charge. For computing, we use a lot less of it but it's pure. And since we’re just storing data, we don't care how dense it gets. We're dealing with pure terillium here. The denser it gets, the heavier it gets. We just feed it some juice, get it charged up enough to repel gravity, enough so we can carry it around, and we continue. But we never know how heavy, or dense it is. Do you see what I’m saying, do you see the implications?” Fox asked.
"No. I don’t, and I don’t think I want to." Te said.
"What we have to do is make it process faster. Processing data condenses the element, that's what makes it heavier."
"Okay. So what?"
"So…. Feed the beast. Feed it an exponential equation, something that pulls the electrons together fast, a self-multiplying fractal, a tight mustard seed."
"Could you control it, or is the first time the last time?" Te asked.
"It's got variables, entire probability matrix."
"You're telling me that an equation can be used to detonate, what? That little chunk of metal you carry around? Or a gravity disk?"
"Dr Te, I think this equation could detonate any sort of deposit you feed it to, a vehicle, a building or an entire district. It could burn the stagnant terillium in the air around us," Fox said.
"Even a rumor of this would cause a panic. Sounds as if you have a new secret, my friend."
"This wasn't my idea," Fox said.
"What do you mean?" Dr. Te asked.
"We're doing trials on it, on the Micronix."
"You're saying you're connected. How many people, Fox?"
"A lot, sir, forty thousand."
"You're saying you're all connected over that damn thing, and this wasn't even your idea? Someone put this idea in your head? Is that what you're saying?" Te asked.
Fox looked back in the direction of the facility and then at the black rectangle in his palm. "You make it sound so simple," he replied.
"Things never get more simplified. Why not just keep the secret?"
"How long was the bomb a secret?"
"They set out to make the bomb. You set out to cure stupidity."
"We had some issues with the raw materials," Fox said.
“You have to end it, Andrew.”
“You’re right. I know.”
"It's good to talk to you again," Lao said.
"You too." Fox disconnected the call.
Feeling better, but still anxious, Fox leaned back. A profound sense of peace came over him. He drifted off to sleep, not stirring until the ship chimed that they had reached the city limits.
Upon waking, Fox once again felt his stomach drop. He remembered his predicament. The ability to detonate terillium terrified him. If this thought had come to him, some other researcher would inevitably make the same discovery.
His life had taken on the noxious anxiety of a nightmare. His call to Lao had been the equivalent of a confession and prediction, rather than theoretical brainstorming. Would it become evidence against him, an admission of guilt?
T
he risks were too great. The Micronix could never be a viable product. The project had to be cancelled.
Fox dialed the office of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The automated greeting played, and Fox was asked to leave a message.
"Sir, this is Director Fox. We're not making any progress at Epsilon. I just spoke with Senator Miller, and he agrees that we should shutter the facility at once. It's not productive to continue at this point. In fact, we’re taking significant risks if we continue. We'll start returning the prisoners tomorrow. By the end of next week, we'll have the technicians back to their previous duty stations. I'd like to thank you for all your support, my best to your staff and family, goodnight."
Fox wasn't a religious man, but he wondered, if there were a God... Why would he ever create such powerful fire for such poor stewards as those who call themselves men?
Chapter 4 – Lonely, Not Alone
Ashley trudged homeward from the bus stop. Angel City hovered out to the east, a mile above old Los Angeles. When most people lived in the glittering metropolistrosity, Ashley's family lived out on a dead-end canyon street at the base of the Santa Monica Mountains, Calistan Way.
The floating city appeared alien and captivating. Composed of metal and glass, the knot of anti-gravity city-space was crowded with residential, commercial and industrial structures, netted into place with freeway cables suspended through the sky.
Vehicles whizzed about, navigating the magnetic currents as their ancestors sailed oceans and rivers. Ashley wished she could escape into the city. The sunlight glittered from thousands of windows, taunting her.
Today, walking along the hillside blacktop, there was no breeze; just the oppressive and smothering heat. Ash stomped the weed-stitched asphalt, her brows tense above irises of icy blue. Sharp black forelocks escaped the ponytail and danced in step.
Ash moved uphill, making her way home, regretting her class, one pain filled step after another. Her anger had nothing to do with the ultra-competitive hostility of Becca and the other girls.
Ashley's father was pulling her from ballet to attend a self-defense camp. As much as she disliked the social environment at Rivendell, Ashley did not want to spend a month fighting half-crazed ninja-boys.
The homes of friends lined the hillside to her right, while over the guardrail, the lush Californian forest called to her. Ash didn't mind being a ground-pounder. She loved the forest.
Her happiest moments, outside a dance studio, were running the well-worn paths with her younger brother and neighborhood kids. They could wander the trails for hours, cooled by the green boughs overhead, their thirst quenched by the mountain breeze.
They owned that forest.
One monitor was dedicated to the visual data broadcast from Ashley's eyes. Beside it, another displayed the various measured neural and biological functions of the girl.
"What's her location?" Dr. Fox asked.
"She just got off the activities bus, sir. Making her way toward the residence now." The monitors before Mr. Reid displayed the data from all of Ashley's senses. Her visual inputs, her aural reception as well as digital interpretations of her tactile, olfactory and sense of taste, all converted to numbers, graphs and recorded.
Six agents occupied the observation lab. Reid and his personal supervisor were assigned to Ashley; the other two teams included an operator and supervisor for Geoffrey, and the same for the children’s mother, Mrs. Anastasia Fox. The agents didn't talk much, they simply monitored the children and remained prepared to take action, should any unforeseen circumstance occur.
"Everything level?" Dr. Fox asked.
"Yes sir. Heart rate, blood pressure, and focal index: all within nominal ranges. Feeds are all in sync with minimal interference and zero delay, neural kinetics all top shelf. Her electrolytes are low, she's tired from her class." Reid's fingers danced across the keyboard, retrieving details for his eyes. His eyes never left the monitors during his shift. Reid's ability to stay focused was legendary.
"Nothing to report?" Fox asked.
"She did get into a confrontation this morning, sir."
"A confrontation? You don't say?" Fox smiled.
"Sending the stream now. One of Geoff's friends, was being hassled and she stepped in."
"Violently?" Fox asked.
"Yes, but she wasn’t obvious about it. No arguing or anything. Made a broken nose look like an accident."
"That's my girl.”
"I should let you know, she's deep into some argumentative sub-rhythms, storing potentialities. Non-vocal transcript says she's pissed about camp."
"In other words, totally normal for my daughter," Fox replied. "Gentlemen, we're entering a significant threat period here. For the next twenty-four hours, I need everyone to stay alert. I believe our enemies will make their move tonight."
Reid watched as Ashley kicked a rock. It jumped toward a parked car. The car's electro-magnetic countermeasures weren't fast enough and the rock hit the door with a thud, leaving a wicked nick in the poorly waxed paint. Ash watched as the terillium-alloy healed the scratch in less than a second.
She killed the ground with each step.
"Sir, she'd give her life to protect you or Mrs. Fox."
"That's what I'm afraid of, Mr. Reid. Her job is to protect the boy."
Ahead of her, the street ended, beyond the guardrail, nature began again. Choked with greenery, several paths ran into the Santa Monica Mountains' Forest Preserve. Coyotes lived out there, somewhere. Ash had never seen one, but she'd heard the stories.
"Understood, Sir."
"Keep her adrenaline low. I want her capable of operating at full capacity in an instant. Don't let her get riled up over this camp thing. I don't want her sleeping through an attack."
"If anything happens, she'll be ready."
"I'm counting on you. Please give my regards to the crew."
Sometimes Dr. Fox forgot that his conversations with Mr. Reid were transmitted to all six members of the lab. "Copy that, sir," Reid replied.
"Fox out."
"Good evening, sir. Reid out."
Ashley turned and walked up the front steps of the house.
She reached out to the handle, but changed her mind and didn't touch the door. She set her bag down and turned back down the steps.
Ash walked beneath the hanging limbs of forest giants. The breeze helped her relax. Her breath became deeper and slower. Her heartbeat and blood pressure became calm, even and steady.
Throughout the surrounding forest, Ashley heard other kids playing, yelling and chasing one another down the paths. She had little trouble avoiding them, slipping behind the giant monarchs of the forest, staying out of sight as runners and hover-boarders zipped by. She leaned against the trunk of an ancient eucalyptus tree. The scent was like a tonic, opening her nose, throat and lungs.
Far in the distance Ash heard a dog barking. It sounded like her dog, Jack. For such a small dog, the young beagle was loud. Between his barks, she heard her brother Geoff's voice. He sounded upset. She heard other kids, laughing.
Ash took a moment to pinpoint the location and set out at lightning speed. Despite her weariness from ballet practice, Ashley was flying, even if it was at slight downhill angle.
In under a minute, she reached the clearing and saw a crowd of boys around her brother Geoff and their dog.
Ashley pushed her way into the crowd. She heard Geoff say something, some boys laughed, and she arrived at the circle just in time to see Bobby Dunkirk push Geoff to the ground.
Bobby was ten compared to Geoff's eight. Bobby was not just bigger and older, but meaner.
Geoff saw Ashley step into the circle.
Bobby noticed her too.
Almost thirteen, Ash stood two heads taller than most of the assembled boys, granting her instant authority.
Bobby scowled at Geoff, preparing a nasty remark in his head. Most likely something to do with Geoff's needing to have his big sister defend him.
Before the w
ords left Bobby's mouth, Geoff punched him in the stomach.
Geoff seemed to be holding his own and would be embarrassed in Ashley stepped in. She gestured for Jack, the beagle, to come to her.
Jack trotted over but periodically glanced over his shoulder at Bobby and Geoff, ready to attack again, at the least provocation.
Ashley rubbed his head, calming him down, but he could only be distracted for a few moments at a time. Mostly, he stared at Bobby.
Bobby caught his breath, straightened up and took a menacing step toward Geoff.
"You deserved it," Geoff said, standing his ground.
Geoff wasn’t crying or emotionally distraught.
He stared Bobby in the eye.
Bobby didn’t back down either, "You started it."
"I did not!" Geoff replied. "You were chasing my dog!"
"I wasn't hurting him!"
"I didn't hurt you, until you pushed me down."
As the dispute had devolved to petty bickering, Ashley stepped in and held up her hands, "Stop," she said softly.
They did.
"Now shake hands like gentlemen," she ordered, smiling just a little.
Bobby had always liked Ashley.
All the boys in their neighborhood knew and liked her. She was one of the few girls that came down to the canyon and happily joined in their adventures.
Ballet pulled her away a bit more often of late, but Ash and Bobby and Geoff, and most of the boys present, had known each other most of their lives. Ashley was also beautiful, and as she grew older, her beauty seemed only to become magnified.
Bobby folded. He smiled at Geoff, and they shook hands. Bobby laughed and based on his smirk, was preparing a sarcastic remark.
"Hold on," Ash said, raising a hand.
"What?" Bobby asked, the grin fading from his face.
Ash knelt next to the puppy. She scratched his ear, but Jack never took his eyes off Bobby.
"His name is Jack. You need to apologize to him too."
"Ha!" Bobby laughed.
"It's a small world," Ash said, remembering Mrs. Rabier's lecture. "There's no room for people carrying around grudges. You're going to apologize, you're going to mean it, and you're going to shake on it. I don't want him worried that maybe you don't like him. Unless you're scared."
