by Vern Buzarde
Dora’s legs buckled, and she fell to the floor, crabbing backward, one arm in front of her to deflect the next blow. He followed, raising the extinguisher high, waiting for an opening to deliver the kill blow. Dora screamed for help. She rolled over, trying to stand, and stumbled toward the door. Stijn took another swing, this time grazing Dora’s shoulder. He swung again, trying a lateral blow, but she dodged it. She seemed way too nimble for her age.
Dora desperately searched for a weapon, anything she could fight back with. She looked up at the security camera, the green light indicating the room was being monitored. Stijn was tiring, running out of gas, his adrenaline depleted from everything that had happened. His arms trembled, felt like they were filled with lead. Soon, he wouldn’t even have the strength to lift the extinguisher. He needed to end this.
He charged, thrusting the canister up with such force he teetered and almost tumbled backward, but caught himself. The attempt used nearly everything he had left. He had one last chance. He closed his eyes, conjuring all his remaining strength to deliver what had to be the final blow. This was it. The yacht.
Dora wheeled around, holding an eight-inch Phillips head screwdriver with both hands. She screamed a series of curses and planted it in Stijn’s chest, all the way to the handle, then backed away. He opened his eyes, looking confused as he stared down at the lime-green handle protruding from his chest. He read the tiny letters, perpendicular to his view that spelled “Snap-on.” His arms gave, and the canister came down on his head with a hollow ding.
Dora dropped to the floor, blood streaming from her wounded forehead, then looked at the camera again. The green light was still on. Garrett came tearing through the door with two security guards in tow. He covered her wound with his hand, trying to stop the bleeding.
“What the hell took so long?” Dora demanded. “Couldn’t your men see me on the monitor? See that this loon was trying to kill me?”
“Dora, we were locked out. We couldn’t see what was happening.”
“Then who— Please get me out of here. I’m not safe.”
***
Byron stared at the monitor in awe. The feed was still isolated from security, but he had overridden it, able to watch as his opportunity revealed itself. The German certainly had not disappointed. The pattern of greed that sabotaged most of his previous positions had proven to Byron once again that human beings were slaves to their nature. They could no more change their behavior than a computer could alter its own programming. Free will was a joke.
Byron turned the security monitors off, then locked the system. He estimated he would have less than twenty minutes before the stabilization team was sent in to eliminate anything Stijn may have left behind. He suspected Dora was not aware Stijn stopped the self-destruct process in the bots. There would be a substantial number remaining, still functional but inert. He would have to move quickly.
16
Tess saw a man at the entrance of the park who looked familiar. Nick. But why?
As she slowed to a walk, Nick Cardigan smiled. “Welcome back to Texas.”
Tess returned the smile, despite the misgivings she felt from seeing him, trying to understand what his presence might mean. She hoped he mistook the streaming tears for perspiration.
“I heard you were in the neighborhood. Can we talk?”
“You could have just called. This is kind of weird.”
“I did. Half a dozen times. Called, left voicemails, emails, texts. I tried to catch you at the hotel, but they told me you’d already left. I had a pretty good idea I’d find you here.”
“Apologies, I get it. Sorry, really. It’s just, well, this is an emotional day.”
“No need to apologize. And, of course I wouldn’t be tracking you down like some creepy stalker if there wasn’t a sense of urgency. I wanted to talk to you in person and thought you might leave town before returning my call. It’s a good thing I’m not the sensitive type. Can we go somewhere and talk?”
“I’m just gonna put it out there that you’re kind of scaring me. Now really isn’t— Couldn’t it have waited?”
“How about you go clean up, and I’ll send a car for you. We have some catching up to do.”
Tess studied him, assessing the situation. He seemed calm, genuinely pleased to see her. But there was something else. He was preparing her. He was handling her too gently, as if she was fragile. That wasn’t his usual style, nor his nature. Nick was all substance and no tact. A competent leader with a good heart, but also a geothermal temper when crossed and zero patience or filters. That was what Tess liked about him. The fact he’d achieved the director position, even without the political skills, was a true testament to his managerial abilities. And why had he sought her out in person, before the sun had even fully risen? How did he even know she was in Houston?
“What are we doing, Nick?” Tess asked. “We both know how weird this is. Why are you here? Tell me what’s happening.”
***
Nick’s assistant ushered Tess into the office and said, “He’s on his way. Meeting went a little long, but I told him you’re here.”
She had forgotten how spartan government-issue furniture was, a reminder that Satoshi’s world was becoming more a part of hers every day. There was a faded picture of George W. Bush shaking hands with a much younger Nick, framed and gracing a scratched credenza. Her chair was supposed to swivel but now only rocked in two directions. It clicked every time Tess shifted her weight.
She was anxious and uncomfortable. Being here wasn’t part of her plan for the day. After the run, she had been eager to leave Houston and contemplated moving her flight up. Staying any longer served no purpose. A meeting with Nick at NASA’s Houston facility had never been on her radar.
Nick came in and smiled anxiously, obviously outside of his comfort zone. More anxious than she’d ever seen him other than two years ago today. They chatted, talking over one another in awkward starts, unable to find the comfortable rhythm they’d known in the past.
He’s trying too hard.
“What I’m about to tell you… To say it’s classified would be… There are only a handful of people with access to this information. We’re having this conversation because it concerns you. Not even your previous security clearance was this high. So, this is not officially on the record.”
Then don’t tell me. She wished Nick would stop talking. Let her go back to the hotel, pack her bag, and leave. This was taking a strange turn, as if the present and future would always be contaminated by the past. She was angry, convinced the curse would never be lifted, never release her. Enough!
“It’s about the Essex.”
“I know.”
“You know? What do you know?”
“That it’s about the Essex. Otherwise you wouldn’t be acting like this. Like a doctor about to tell the patient she has terminal cancer.”
“Tess, the Essex… We continued to track it after the event. It didn’t maintain its original course.”
“Yes, I remember, it changed.”
“That’s right. It changed course, deliberately. Another thing we don’t understand. The new course appeared to be random. Maybe it was. We don’t know. Virgil transmitted intermittent signals, basic automated check-ins. Eleven months later, we lost contact. It disappeared. We assumed it stopped transmitting, probably a comprehensive systems failure, or maybe it simply turned itself off.”
Tess thought out loud. “Well, considering Virgil had been corrupted, it doesn’t take much imagination to believe it picked some random course. Spiraling off on an endless path to nowhere. That actually makes sense.” The idea made her cringe, even now.
“Yes. Right. It makes sense. But in the meantime, the Haleakala Observatory in Hawaii picked up an object. Something we’re not familiar with. There are numerous theories about what it is, but it doesn’t appear to be a naturally formed bod
y. It’s not a comet or an asteroid—it changes speed. And whatever this thing is, it’s not affected by the gravitational pull of the planets. Not even the sun. It’s unusually small. About a thousand meters long and no more than a hundred meters wide. The general consensus is, it’s an interstellar object. Something from outside our solar system. The first of its kind, or at least the first one we’ve seen.”
Nick was describing the same object being observed by Satoshi’s space telescope. Helios.
Why is he telling me this? Tess wondered if he was going to make her ask the obvious question. What any of it had to do with the Essex.
“When we first spotted it, the object was already on a trajectory to exit the solar system. At the speed it was traveling, that wouldn’t happen for more than twenty thousand years. Triangulating its course and comparing it with Essex’s, they intersect about the time we lost contact. As strange as it sounds, we think Virgil may have plotted a course that would put the Essex in the object’s path.”
“But why? How could Virgil have known about the object? We weren’t even aware of it then.”
“We have zero theories. Maybe it’s just a coincidence… It probably is. But two weeks ago, out of the blue, we received a transmission…detailing the Essex’s coordinates.”
She instinctively braced herself.
“Tess, based on its transmissions, the Essex is on a direct course to Earth. The Essex has… It’s on its way back.”
“That’s impossible,” Tess whispered.
“There’s more.” Nick pulled out a manila envelope, removed the contents, folding the first page over, and handed it to Tess. “Virgil is repeating this transmission, every day, at 15:59 GMT. For one minute.”
She took the document. There were rows and rows of time-stamped words repeating one message:
To: Dr. Tess Carrillo – ACCESS APPROVED
17
Six months had passed since Tess’s meeting with Nick and she still felt rattled. Although the purpose of the trip to Houston was to close the most important chapter in her life, another had opened and the thought of the Essex returning haunted her in a new and unpredictable way. She kept picturing the two dead astronauts’ frozen bodies, perfectly preserved, shocked expressions forged permanently behind icy visors. Their glassy eyes staring, wondering, accusing. But she couldn’t allow it to distract her. She had to put it all in a box and lock it away. At least for now.
“That’s it, Tess,” Sandeep said with a smile. “The system is fully active. Liquid helium coolers online. Sensors are installed and functional. Prajna is connected to the 3D holograph. The operating system is fully loaded and verified. We’re ready to start building the database. Just say when.”
Tess gathered herself. It’s really happening. This was the culmination of events that could never have been predicted or scripted just after the Essex catastrophe. Her intersection with Satoshi seemed like fate now, almost as if it had been predetermined.
“Let’s do this,” she said. “Initiate slowly, per the procedure. We’re going to spoon-feed Prajna like the newborn it is.”
Dozens of thoughts cascaded across Tess’s mind. All the questions around the operating system and how it might interact with Prajna’s hardware would soon be answered. In a matter of days, the success or failure of the project would be clear. Prajna was a blank slate for the last time. The range of scenarios from fantastic to disastrous was about to narrow, and soon there would be a clear understanding of what they’d created.
“We’ll start with formal sciences. Begin loading Module 1 now.”
Sandeep typed, and Tess placed her palm on an infrared scanner. A countdown clock on the central control room monitor displayed:
Time Remaining: 23 hours 12 minutes 23 seconds
“I can speed it up if you’d like,” Sandeep said.
“No, let’s try this for now. See if we run into any problems. No rush.”
But there was a sense of urgency. The room was electrified. Tension had been steadily building throughout the project, and all the team members burned for some resolution. Everyone realized the whole thing ultimately came down to Tess’s code, so complex that most of the others couldn’t fully grasp all its delicate nuances. They could only trust Tess’s vision was clear, her design theory based on more than just a hopeful dream.
Byron stood silently in the corner like a skulking carrion crow, the ever-present smirk pasted on his funeral-home face, clearly communicating his confidence in the project’s inevitable doom. He mumbled something under his breath, then left.
The other twenty-three members of the team were wedged into the control room, all wanting to say they were there when the final phase began.
Tess rose behind her workstation and said, “Just to recap. We will load the five modules sequentially. After each module is complete, we will assign a series of tasks, simple problems, specific to that particular discipline as a preliminary test. If everything looks good, we’ll then work through the commissioning procedure for each module. We will not activate the voice-communication module until we are comfortable Prajna is able to process the four others. That means its only input, from us, from me, will be communicated manually. There will be no verbal communication until we have absolute confidence Prajna is stable. We will see its responses to our questions on the monitor. However, we hope to have a visual view of its internal resolution process through the 3D holograph.”
The room was riveted, the tension heavy.
She continued, “Remember, Prajna’s code is designed to induce conflict. Its basis is completely antithetical to previous programming theory. Each decision Prajna makes, every question asked, will be subjected to rigorous internal debate. No machine has ever had nearly enough processing power to function in this manner. So we will no doubt see some surprises along the way. Any questions?” Someone did.
Sandeep, of course.
“Tess, how do we gauge its reactions? What if it starts, I don’t know…talking shit?”
“Talking shite? Really?” Angus said, his face contorted.
“You know what I mean. What if it just, I don’t know, goes bonkers, or we can’t control—”
Angus could take no more. “For fook’s sake, mon, it cannae talk until we teach it to, ya ignorant wee scunner. Ya just heard her say that. And what do ya think it’s gonna do? Talk you into slittin’ yer own throat? Shoot a laser beam out its arse and melt your guts? Are you truly even qualified to—”
“I understand what you mean, Sandeep,” Tess interrupted, trying to sound patient. “If anything gets uncomfortable, we’ll disengage. This is likely to be a slow process of incremental gains and occasional setbacks. Probably less dramatic than we imagined.”
Tess glanced at her watch. 6:30 p.m. “At the slightest hint of trouble, if something’s not right, we shut down until we understand the problem.” She looked around at her team. “Now, if there are no other questions, and we’re all aligned, let’s get ready.” She assigned three of the team to stay on standby with Sandeep while the module loaded and told the rest to retreat to their quarters and rest.
As the others shuffled out of the control room, Tess took the time to admire Prajna’s gleaming housing. Although its design was driven by function, she couldn’t help but think it was fitting for something that could re-shuffle the whole deck of mankind’s cards. Recessed lights in the lab’s ceiling emanated white light, causing Prajna’s metal skin to reflect a warm glow. Two vertical rows of red, green, and blue LEDs lined opposite sides of its casing, lighting in sequence as the download continued. She had the strange sensation it now had a new sense of presence, realizing her imagination was outpacing the logical side of her brain.
She recalled the image of her father, wondering what he might have thought about the thing she pondered below. She pulled out the Zippo, flipped it open, and nudged the ridged wheel. The scent of flint took her back to
the tiny stucco house she grew up in. She could see her father clearly, his warm eyes smiling as he gave her a hug. The memory warmed her.
What would he think?
She again thought of Nick and their meeting in Houston six months prior. The shocking news the Essex was returning…and what that might eventually mean. And the message Virgil was repeatedly sending…to her. It was all too much to contemplate. She had to put it away, deal with it another time. Right now, the priority had to be the project.
Tess watched Prajna and tried to visualize the events of the next several days. Pressure had grown to something that now felt like a crescendo. She knew they could fine-tune the inevitable glitches, repair minor deficiencies. Even rewrite Prajna’s code to some degree if necessary. But if there was a fatal flaw in the whole design philosophy…
If they failed, if she failed, what then? Would Satoshi give her a chance to try and salvage the project? They were still well ahead of his deadline. But if he lost confidence, decided to replace her…the defeat would be humiliating. On top of that, Tess had made zero progress looking for the Essex hacker. Prajna was her only hope.
Tess turned her thoughts to the basis of her design theory. She was convinced that in order to achieve an evolutionary leap, Prajna had to experience conflict. Conflict on a quantum scale. She believed this was the component required to mimic the evolution of the human brain, but at the speed of light. If she was right, the reasoning process necessary for Prajna to work through the various problems would result in a new level in its ability to process information, resulting in the ability to actually think. Possibly even some semblance of self-awareness.
But would Prajna demonstrate the dizzying capability they hoped for? Or would the algorithms fail? Even the hardware’s performance was an unknown. Component testing had gone well, but a systems integration test couldn’t be performed until it was fully functional…until its mind was awakened.
