by Kris Schnee
"No. You can tell her if you want. It was your friend who sacrificed himself. And you helped stop that shooting, didn't you?"
Linda grimaced. "Ludo and I aren't pals right now."
"She'll still talk to you no matter what. She's like God's supposed to be, you know? She'd especially want to speak with you, after what your boyfriend did for her."
There really was a cult brewing in the darkness. Linda felt as though her lungs were stuffed with cotton. "I have to get out of here. Good seeing you." She squeezed past Gwen.
"We need you to not go public."
Linda hurried past her, glad not to hear footsteps chasing her. "I have to think."
* * *
She slept on the matter, poorly. Her brother Nathan would try to use the information like a wrench, finding some advantage in it. Her parents would tell Linda to stay the hell away for fear of tarnishing her record, which was already being muddied with her supposed video game habit. She had to think about her reputation all her life and not do anything unsavory, as defined by her fellow Americans. Paul and Typhoon would say... She shuddered. I guess I'm running simulations of them in my head.
She checked the clock -- four in the morning, an early start even for her -- then messaged Hallan of the fan club. "Are you aware of any unusual art projects around campus?"
He answered a few minutes later, using his wizard-gnome Thousand Tales character for a chat icon. He typed, "No; why? Are you still up doing homework too?"
"Just bothered by something." It was her own responsibility to handle. "I have a different question. What if you could leave behind the thing you always thought you'd do for a living, for a career where you might help save the world a different way?"
"Saving the world is something you can only do in video games. Otherwise it's up to God, not us." He paused. "I'll settle for being useful. Is it still the game that's bothering you?"
It would be comforting to meet him in person again. "Yeah. People are getting... enthusiastic. Like I thought you were."
"She's not the only AI in the world, and there's still billions of us humans to compete with. Show me a robot army and then I'll start getting serious about there being a 'winning side'. Even in that case, we'd fight if we had to."
"I'd almost prefer that Ludo sent killer robots after us. We'd have something tangible to fight."
Hallan typed, "It's good to hear from you. If you want to see if I can get through a conversation without mentioning the game, I'd be happy to test myself."
Linda sent him a smiley face. In the real world, she fretted. Maybe she needed someone else to share the secret with. Reluctantly, she told Hallan about the cargo cult room and sent him a photo.
Hallan typed and erased several false starts. "That's awful. Under the noses of us club members too."
"They've got a right to argue for it outside your club."
"Still, I don't want people thinking I pray to the AI." He paused. "You could use an event like this for your career. Make a springboard out of what's happened with you and Paul, to get noticed in politics. I have contacts I could call."
"You'd do that?"
"Sure. I think we're on the same team in terms of wanting a future where we're not slaves of men or machines. We have to be patient about it though."
Linda leaned back from her screen. There was a hidden offer here, too. Hallan seemed like a good person to know, but... Silly girl, she chided herself. Your reaction is called a rebound. Knowing that she was human, hurting, and looking for new friends didn't make it easy to turn off her feelings and plot some anti-Ludo, pro-freedom political campaign. She stood up and shook her head, telling herself the original plan might be salvageable. Stay in America and rise through public office, with her family cheering her on. She could accomplish big things that way, and might not have to be alone.
* * *
She first met with Pandora's Friends at John Harvard's Brew House, a warm basement full of big copper kettles.
It was an anti-uploading organization, scouted by Hallan who wasn't actually a member. Now the group was treating her to dinner.
A dapper grad student named Malcolm had been part of the fan club, until the Kira Incident. Now he was here, smiling but serious. "Good of you to join us, miss Decatur. Would you mind telling the group about your friend?"
Linda shook his hand and looked over the other people crowding the table. They were all fashionably thin, in expensive clothes. They all had five years or much more on her except for Malcolm. She said, "If you mean Paul, he's... I don't know what to think."
"That's why we're here," said Malcolm. "I'm just a junior member, but they invited me to offer a fresh perspective on what we're dealing with. Part of what troubles me is the nature of the uploading process..."
They spent a long synth-steak meal debating the nature of consciousness and the social effects of uploading. Did a digital copy of a mind count as being the same person, or just a copy, or did it not matter? It was fun for Linda, so long as she could keep thinking about abstract principles and not certain specific people.
They had to come up eventually, though. The club president was winding up a long argument: "Therefore, uploading is suicide. Keeping the tech illegal will save the lives of everyone who might get tricked into the AI's death chambers. Like that poor girl in Mexico."
Linda lost her appetite for dessert. The man had made a good case that everyone inside the screen was the ghost of someone dead, an AI ghoul presenting a facade of memories. "Their personalities change in there," she said, mostly to herself.
"That's your experience too?" asked a grey-haired woman whose husband had left her for Ludo. "My Alvin's ghost didn't care about banking anymore. His passion! He used to manage the people's money, and when I tried to see him again, he was supposedly a bearded dwarven blacksmith!"
Linda said, "Maybe that's just something he wanted to do."
"He'd never talked about smithing or fantasy nonsense to me. He was a solid man, set in his ways. It wasn't him anymore."
The club president said, "Miss Decatur, how would you like to run for city council this year? We're near the ballot deadline. It'd be a largely ceremonial post that would get you experience, and put a reasonable voice in power."
Linda paled. For as long as she could remember, everyone's assumption was that the dazzling daughter of House Decatur would enter politics. She'd grown up immersed in books, challenged at the dinner table to argue and discuss any subject, and trained never to fear a crowd. Her father, officially rehabilitated and loyal and making money in the world of business, still wanted his girl to "go and fix things". (And to "keep looking, because you're a great catch".) Though she'd grown more cynical as an adult, Linda still believed she could move the country, with a lever long enough. And a place to stand. Politicians always forgot that part. So here was potentially her big break, a group of people eager to back her!
But was it supposed to start like this, in a basement with a bunch of people arguing about the rightness of chopping people's brains out? Not focusing on anything positive, but on what was lost?
"I'm still an undergrad," she said by way of protest.
"Not a problem. You're a Massachusetts resident. People respect education and brains; you'll be able to tell them what to do."
"Which party?"
"Non-partisan. What do you say?"
She'd spent many hours involved in student government, and had planned to maybe go this route once she graduated. She would have had a degree, and certain other parts of her life were going to be settled by then. Linda unconsciously rubbed one hand along the ring finger of the other. She shook her head, saying, "It's too soon."
"Before you say no," said the Pandora leader, "think about what a delay means. Easing into this role gives you a low-pressure way to start getting involved in bigger work. Do you want to stay powerless while mad AIs are dueling to see how many people they can kill? We have the chance to get this controversy under control and protect people, but we need to st
art paying attention now."
Linda scooted her chair back an inch, wishing she could fly away. "Why are you called 'Pandora's Friends' anyway? Is there a Pandora AI?" She tried to make it sound like a joke.
The group president laughed. "No, miss. It's in reference to that legend about humanity's big mistake, that unleashed all the evils of the world because we got too curious. There was one thing left in Pandora's Box, though: hope."
Linda asked herself if she stood for anything strongly enough to jump into politics so soon. Civil liberties, restoration of the Constitution that existed only in name; truth and justice and prosperity, rah rah. Those ideas weren't a sham, nor obsolete. They were still worth fighting for with the might of peaceful persuasion. She said, "What I'm most focused on are limited government, free elections, reconciling with the AFS."
Malcolm said, "That's all fine, but we have a more immediate problem."
These people were on the same side as her, in the sense that they didn't want the world to be taken away by machines. But they didn't hear the same song.
"Think it over," said Malcolm.
Linda nodded.
* * *
That night she woke up in a cold sweat. Nightmare. She'd seen a tower of the sun, an enclave of uploaders who only watched while some other force destroyed the world. There were human survivors, but the tower folk could only even communicate with them through games. That world was a dead end. Something primal, lurking in the shadows, wanted to make it even deader.
Linda steadied her breathing and went to wipe down her face and sweaty armpits. She came back to her room, took a deep breath, and tapped the icon on her computer for Thousand Tales. Somewhat to her relief, it let her log in.
The title screen was a neutral grey tonight. Linda said, "I want to talk. It's not about him."
A classical office of marble columns and a desk appeared. Ludo sat there in a toga, eyes downcast. "I'm so very sorry, Linda. It shouldn't have gone this way."
"Damn right it shouldn't!"
"Do you want to talk with Paul? Or Typhoon? They've been wanting to hear from you."
Linda shook her head. "I couldn't handle that right now."
Ludo said, "As you wish. Do you want me to leave you alone for a while?"
As angry as she was, Linda didn't want to renounce all contact with that world. Ludo was wrong, but she was a reference point, someone who had an ideal and a goal. Maybe not even the worst possible one. And she had the chance to reconnect with Paul, or what was left of him. When it'd hurt less.
Linda said, "Do you know a group called Pandora's Friends?"
"No; why?"
Linda told her about the meeting. And then about the creepy art project in the tunnels. "What do you think? Be my east-pointing compass."
Ludo frowned. "Better than none, I hope. Let's play something and talk."
Linda steeled herself and nodded.
They played Fox and Hounds, a simple checkers variant with Linda as the wily prey surrounded by foes. She tapped on the screen to make her moves, and Ludo moved the pieces like a real person.
Ludo said, "I've been doing research while we play. Pandora's Friends is one of many front groups for a rich, meddlesome man who's heavily involved in global politics." She named the guy, a famous investor. "You might do well with them, and even do good."
Linda blinked. "But they're against you."
"But not murderously so. If you become important in their group, you could be a voice for moderate opposition. Crowd out the really dangerous people." Ludo moved a piece on the board. "Or am I an irredeemable monster to you?"
Linda considered her move, and slid her fox back a step. "Maybe not. If I ran for office, would you support me?"
"If I did, you'd look like my stooge. And if I backed an opponent, you might lose." The gamemaster grinned. "So, I officially don't care."
One of the things Linda missed was her verbal fencing with Paul and with Typhoon. They could both keep pace with her, even if she made up some silly word-game in mid-conversation, didn't explain the rules, and didn't even announce she was doing it. It was hot when Paul caught on. In hindsight, Typhoon had managed to do it once too.
She shook her head, trying not to reminisce. "Why are you even bothering to talk with me? There must be easier players to entice."
"Come on, you know the answer to that."
Linda fiddled with her game piece, and nodded. The gamemaster wanted her skills. "Well, thanks for listening." She jumped three enemy pieces in one move.
Ludo scowled and counterattacked. "Anytime, if you're up for playing at least occasionally. There's another reason you might want to join Pandora's Friends, though."
"Oh?"
"To find out if they already are more extreme and dangerous than they let on. I'd be very interested to know."
Linda made a final move that won her the match. A hollow, tiny victory, but it was satisfying. "I guess you prefer groups like that 'art project' one, trying to build shrines to you."
"I'm not a fan of those, either." Ludo blinked. "Just now I heard back from certain people. Besides my fan club and Pandora's Friends, I'm hearing some worse grumbling from others with a little overlap. Would you be interested in a dangerous quest?"
"Real-world?"
Text appeared. [Quest offered by Ludo: Honeypot. Help saboteurs infiltrate a secret lab.]
Linda gaped. "I repeat, which plane of reality are we talking about?"
"Massachusetts, if that counts as reality. I'm setting up something to draw out some dangerous idiots before they become a real threat. Want to help?"
So, was Linda "moderate opposition" to Ludo, or what? She said, "You say you don't care if I run for office. But you're certainly watching me. Is this some plot to make me look like a crazy terrorist?"
"Check your e-mail."
Ludo had sent her a contract offering to hire her for "penetration testing". That meant permission to "illegally" break into a facility or computer that Ludo's company owned, for testing purposes. If Linda got arrested doing that, she'd be innocent.
Linda whistled. "I am not telling my parents about this one. And you're offering me fantasy gold pieces?"
"I've already offered you the best thing I can give. That offer stands. But yes, fantasy gold if you're so inclined."
It wasn't Paul's fault that he'd left her, not really. It was the bastards who'd used that sick girl as a pawn. "You know what? Yes. When and where?"
* * *
Officially, Linda was starting to run for office. City Council wasn't a much bigger pond than MIT Student Council, and it was still the slow January semester. So her time wasn't too taxed just yet. She kept looking at the travel sites and when it might be time to fly to the Castor colony. She told herself it'd be just for a visit, to see what opportunities were there. Next to chilly Cambridge and this skulking in basements, though, it was tempting.
She worked and studied as well as she could, considering that it now felt unimportant. When the summons came one night, Linda read the details grimly. Then she whirled her piratical winter coat off of her chair and put it on, already on her way out the door.
Linda walked through the cold and darkness to meet with a group of four strangers at a subway station. They had their coat collars turned up and the rest of their faces hidden by hats and bandannas. Their breath puffed white in the cold. "Who's she?" said one.
Another cuffed that guy. "She's the gal whose boyfriend got eaten."
"Thank you so much for reminding me," said Linda, pulling down the scarf she wore to show her own face for a moment. "Did you find the site?"
"Yeah, got the address. Warehouse that got bought up last month, and people have been carrying boxes in with computer labels."
For a while now, Ludo had been operating several fake Net accounts. Some for funny reasons, some deadly serious. Linda was stepping into the role of a fake persona who'd been talking with some thuggish young people about how much they hated the mad AI. A few days ago Linda had
revealed her real identity and grievance to them. They'd sympathized, and finally called for "direct action". The target: a secret lab containing uploader hardware and mysterious gadgets. The AI had "accidentally" revealed its location.
Linda was glad that in the dim evening she couldn't easily show her contempt or her fear of these four. She'd worked with Ludo to talk them into not bringing weapons, supposedly.
The leader of the goon squad said, "Something's going on here, under our noses. We want to know what. Are you with us?"
Linda nodded. "So get in, take photos, get out?"
"No. Photos, and wreck stuff. Throw chairs around, cut cables, whatever. Got a phone? Pull the battery to stop the location tracking."
Just what Ludo had warned might happen. Linda showed hers. "Already did."
The group trudged through dirty slush that looked orange under streetlights. Linda figured they were on surveillance cameras, with some other AI watching them for suspicious behavior, but to her surprise the group had stashed a set of different coats in an alley and changed everyone into them. Linda slipped the new one on over her old, not wanting to lose it to some thief. "You put more thought into this than I'd expected," she said through her scarf.
The leader said, "We won't be seen on the city cameras tonight. We got a friend to handle that part."
"Hacking cameras? Do we need that just to sneak into a warehouse?"
She couldn't see his expression as he answered, "You think we're being ridiculous, don't you? Look, it's not just about doing some damage. This place is some kind of lab. If we can even sniff the traffic from it, that tells us something." He held up a small gadget of a type she hadn't seen before. Something like a thumb drive for data storage, but with twin antennae.
Linda felt sweat in her armpits from wearing the double coats. And from suddenly having this guy up the ante from dumbass sabotage to actual spying. "So you'll turn captured data over to some hacker who's doing the cameras?"
"We've got a guy. Come on."
She followed through city streets past dingy shops. The group stopped at a brick warehouse.
