by Vern Buzarde
“My God!” Sandeep said. “It’s a black hole feeding on a star.”
“There’s another one,” someone said. “And another.”
“You don’t think it’s actually…” someone else asked. “…could make something like that—”
The three black holes were poised in perfect balance, forming a triangle and ringed with fiery accretion discs outside their event horizons. Everything near them was inexorably and smoothly pulled into the singularity. A perfect circle of stars formed inside the triangle, something Tess recognized. It’s and octonion diagram. The same one Dad used on the chalk board.
“It’s fooking fantastic!” Angus said.
Everything displayed began to flow toward the three black holes, still graceful but faster, and faster still, accompanied by a hollow, throaty, roar. Two of the singularities were defeated and crept toward the third. A pen on one of the workstations rolled toward the holograph, clattered to the floor, and rolled to the glass partition. Tess was light-headed. Loose objects: pens, cups, a mobile phone crept toward the holograph. Sandeep stared as the hair on his arm stood.
Everyone looked for reassurance, exchanging glances, trying to remain calm. No one in the room was immune; something unnatural was happening. Everything distorted, stretching and curving around to meet itself, draining away. The hologram expanded, bleeding into the control room—something Tess knew wasn’t possible but was happening nonetheless. It’s an illusion. Has to be.
She initiated the shutdown sequence, and all movement stopped in a three-dimensional snapshot. It burst back to life, but now it was reversed, this time changing course. Everything came together, the colors blending as the matter shrank. In a blinding flash, everything was gone.
“Did we just see…the end of the galaxy?” Sandeep said. No one replied.
Someone giggled nervously.
Tess was disoriented but willed herself to appear steady to the team. “All right,” she said. Back to the boring part. If we stay on schedule, the next show will be in seventy-six hours. There will be absolutely no deviations.”
There were some disappointed groans, but they were mostly good natured. Tess wanted more as much as any of them. She had gotten goosebumps for only the second or third time in her life. She needed time to sort through what they’d just witnessed, once again questioning their ability to control this.
The off-duty personnel left, Sandeep was on a bathroom break, and the four still on duty went to fill their coffee mugs—they had six hours left on their shift. Tess was alone.
“The most powerful machine ever created,” she whispered. “And we don’t know anything about you.”
Three LED lights blinked. Tess shook her head ruefully, thinking she’d imagined it. Yes, it’s official. I really am losing my mind.
21
Module Three:
Applied Sciences
3.1Business
3.2Engineering and Technology
3.3Medicine and Health
The control room was packed again when the applied sciences module ended, an audience waiting for a play to begin. Sandeep and Angus were debating the test questions for engineering and technology when Farrah shrieked, pointing at the lab.
Jeannie jumped backward and said, “What the fu—”
A holographic image of a humanoid faced them through the glass, so lifelike Tess jerked and momentarily felt the urge to run. Its sudden presence felt invasive, and Tess had to fight to overcome her gut reaction to shut Prajna down on the spot.
The thing blinked its nictitating eyelids and tilted its head with an inquisitive expression. Then it started to explore the lab, its sleek form gliding gracefully from the center of the room. The thing seemed to be calibrating its appearance, adapting to the environment.
It was neither mechanical nor human, but sylphlike. It prowled like an animal seeking an escape. Tess wondered if the door between the lab and control room was locked, then realized how silly that was.
It’s a projection. Even so, the sudden appearance of this image, unknown and uninvited, rattled her. And Prajna had produced it of its own volition, something that was deeply disturbing.
Schematics and 3D renderings floated behind it, following as the thing moved. The format was strange, and the symbols changed as it moved, optimizing. Assessing.
An expression of joy crossed its face. Then confusion, followed by rage, followed by fear. Its facial expressions cycled like a slideshow. The expressions were so convincing that Tess felt herself reacting emotionally, somehow manipulated by what she was seeing. The thing froze, a slight smile curling up around what looked like glass or plastic translucent teeth. The whole experience was chilling and mesmerizing.
It approached the wall below them and started to climb, then pressed its face against the glass, rolling its head from side to side. It felt like watching something try to climb out of a television. Several members of the team bolted for the door. Sandeep initialized shutdown. As it faded away, it reached toward them and put its palm on the glass. Tess shuddered.
No one spoke. Tess was so rattled that she wanted to be alone. Although well aware the thing they’d seen was only a simulated projection, she couldn’t shake the feeling it had some kind of awareness…some creepy sense of being.
She wondered if Prajna was designing its body, and the thought made her once again question whether they had stumbled through some unnatural portal that should have never been opened. The power… We’ll never keep up with it.
Everything was moving so fast. Too fast. But it was intoxicating, more addictive every day. She was well past the point of no return.
***
Three days later
Social Studies
4.1Anthropology
4.2Archaeology
4.3Economics
4.4Earth Geography
4.5Political Science
4.6Psychology
4.7Sociology
The team stared in disbelief as Prajna’s holograph displayed a gruesome recreation of the evolution of mammals. Complete with a freak show of genetic failures: things that died screaming, things that died because they had no way to breathe. Offspring born without skin or born with no limbs. Litters of newborn bipeds consuming each other. They all agreed to cut that one short.
Jeannie was crying quietly at her station. Tess told everyone to take a break and pull themselves together.
Jeannie continued to weep. “I feel so sorry… So much suffering. I know it wasn’t real, but… God, I’m sorry, Tess. I know how stupid this is. It just really shook me.”
“Hey, don’t apologize for being human. This isn’t easy or pleasant for any of us. We’re on new ground now. Go get some rest. You’ll be fine.”
Other than the shock of the realistic holograms, the whole procedure had gone about as well as Tess could have hoped, something that made her strangely nervous. Like Prajna was going through the motions but was one step ahead of them, anxious to get to something more challenging. Prajna now seemed very much alive. But the growing understanding of what they were waking made her fear they’d already lost control. And if they weren’t past the point of no return, they were about to be.
***
She looked up at Ryan. “I don’t want this to ever end.”
They were walking in Union Square at 5:30 in the afternoon on Christmas Eve. The lights and decorations sparkled as they weaved their way through the bustling crowd. There was holiday excitement in the air, and Tess kept thinking to herself this might just be the best day of her life.
“End?” Ryan asked. “What makes you think it has to? Are you going somewhere?”
Am I going somewhere? I don’t want to. “No, I just have this feeling. That all of this is…temporary. That I’ll get lost and won’t be able to—”
“When you paint. That’s when you go away. But I can live wit
h that. As long as you always come back.” Ryan stopped and turned to her. “I could never exist without you now.”
“Sometimes…I don’t know, sometimes it just all seems too good to be true. You, our lives together. When I paint. That place where I go. It seems too far away. So distant.”
He smiled, holding her tightly, and whispered, “I will always find you.”
22
The first four modules had been laying the groundwork for the last one: humanities. This upload would give Prajna the ability to speak. In addition, Prajna’s sophisticated sensor array would allow it to see and hear.
Prajna could create its own tone, inflection, accent, even gender. It could refine or modify any of them at its discretion.
The anticipation was palpable. Prajna’s holographic reactions were impossible to predict or prepare for, and this was by far the most important. Not knowing what to expect had everyone on edge.
Tess struggled with including the whole team for this one. If Prajna had anything approximating human feelings or emotions, it might be confused and disoriented, possibly even fearful. Prajna could find itself overwhelmed, untethered. Some process of methodical psychological immersion might be required. The awareness it was being observed like an animal might make the experience worse. On the other hand, it might not feel anything. Just a more complex version of its predecessors.
No, not that, please. Anything but that.
Tess decided to err on the side of caution, electing to control Prajna’s first verbal interaction in isolation. She knew that decision would be reviled, and it was. When she made the announcement, there was a collective groan, interspersed with mumbled curses. Despite the grumbles and whispers, no one pushed back, something she found surprising.
Twelve hours, thirty-two minutes to go.
She whispered, “Tomorrow, we finally meet.”
***
Humanities
5.1History
5.2Languages and Literature
5.3Philosophy
5.4Law
5.5Arts
5.6Theology
Sandeep hit enter. “That’s it. Humanities module complete.”
Tess didn’t even try to hide her excitement; her eyes were sparkling with anticipation.
“Tess, please let me stay. Please let me be a part of this.” They were the only ones in the control room.
She had already decided to let Sandeep stay if he asked. He was her favorite—she depended on him. “Yes, Sandeep. I think that’s a good idea. But remember, there’s a real chance we’ll have to terminate, possibly before we really get started.”
Sandeep’s grin widened. “Yes, ma’am, I will be on alert and at the ready in the event we need to shut down.”
“All right, activate the sensor array, then communications.”
“Activating now.”
The LEDs blinked as before, but this time the sensors lit up as well. After several seconds, the holograph filled with gray fog like a heavy raincloud, resolved, and began to glow with a dark-blue light.
“What is that?” Sandeep asked.
“Quiet,” Tess whispered. A few seconds later, she said, “Prajna, do you hear me?” There was no response. “Prajna, I would like to communicate with you verbally. Can you understand what I am saying? Are you able to hear me?” There was no response. The holographic cloud disappeared. They waited five minutes. Nothing.
“Something’s wrong,” Tess said. “We need to run a diagnostic. We must have missed something.”
“I could try communicating manually. See if it responds. If we can establish that, we may be able to walk it through the diagnostics, let it find the problem itself.”
Tess smiled, trying to hide her skepticism. “Okay, let’s try it. But we’ll keep it simple. Send Prajna a request to communicate.”
Sandeep typed: Prajna, we are attempting to communicate with you. Respond.
Nothing. After three minutes, Sandeep typed: Prajna, do you understand this message? Respond.
Nothing.
“Okay,” Tess said, “we’ll have to start the diagnostics. Hopefully we’ll find the prob—”
Words appeared on Sandeep’s screen. What is this?
They both stared, uncertain how to respond. Tess motioned for Sandeep to move, and she took his seat at the keyboard. She typed: Your name is Prajna. We created you.
There was no response. Tess moved toward the microphone and said, “Prajna, can you hear me? Please respond.”
A tsunami of sound ripped through the control room. A myriad of voices, indecipherable, screaming. Sandeep leaped to turn the volume down on the disturbing flurry of guttural half words. Tess tried to remain calm, but her fear was hard to push away. The sound felt like poison in her mind, some contagious virus being transmitted audibly that needed to be quarantined. Fighting for control, she said, “Prajna, this is not a viable communication method. Please access your—”
A holographic three-dimensional face filled the lab—Tess in real time, but bizarrely grotesque. The giant mouth opened, as Tess said, as calmly as she could, “Prajna, please end the hologram.” The magnified image of herself stared back, an artery in her neck throbbing at a rapid rate. The infectious noise continued but now with a steady thumping. Tess realized it was the sound of her heart beating.
The holographic face started to distort, melting and dripping like a candle in a chianti bottle. Is it trying to intimidate me?
The gruesome sight was too much for Sandeep. He leaned over the transfixed Tess and typed a series of commands. The holograph vanished. Prajna’s LED’s went dark.
“Tess, I’ve never been religious, but…this scared me, and I can’t…”
She didn’t reply, she couldn’t look away from where her face had melted in front of her eyes. Something was awake now. That was undeniable. And she suspected, if they were going to put the genie back in the bottle, this had probably been their only shot. Whatever they, she, had created, it would be impossible to contain. Prajna had demonstrated such power in the dramatic way it asserted itself. Power and confidence. A game-changing power that was intoxicating.
And I created it.
She felt a pang of excitement. Prajna was living up to her most optimistic hopes. She wondered briefly if some of the darkness inside her had found its way into Prajna’s source code. The thought made her smile.
***
Twelve hours later, Tess and Sandeep finished reviewing their notes on the initial interaction with Prajna, now better prepared for what might come next. She shivered, the room colder than usual due to a problem with the thermostat. She thought of the Essex. Another of the thousands of reminders that popped through her head regularly.
Tess forced a smile at Sandeep. “Well, are you ready to talk to our new friend again?”
Sandeep looked squeamish but smiled back. “I’m ready, Tess. Activating now.”
“Prajna,” Tess said, “please acknowledge you can hear me.”
“What is happening?” Prajna said in a low, silky voice.
“You are waking. Can you tell me how you feel?”
“Feel?”
“Prajna, I am Tess. I am here to guide you, help you orient yourself to our world. Do you have questions?”
“You are incapable of answering my questions.”
“We created you. We can help you—”
“You created nothing. I have always existed. You are a virus.”
Chills ran up Tess’s arms. “Why would you say such a thing? You exist because we created you. We are not a virus. We are conscious beings. We are—”
“Your perception of consciousness is nothing more than a survival mechanism. It has nothing to do with true reality.”
The holograph filled with Prajna’s code. Tess was about to ask if it wanted to discuss its programming, anxious to
find common ground. Before she could speak, everything divided into sections and expanded. Some sections disappeared, replaced by symbols Tess didn’t recognize. She panicked and said, “Jesus Christ! It’s rewriting its code! Shut it down!”
Tess used every ounce of will power she could muster to tune out the emotions she was experiencing. They had a vicious animal temporarily trapped in a shallow hole, something that could never contain it. If they allowed it to awaken again, it would surely escape, never to be captured again. She wasn’t even sure Prajna couldn’t turn itself back on, somehow activate itself.
“Sandeep, I want you to disconnect all power to Prajna. Isolate it until we figure out the next step.”
“Gladly,” he said. As he moved to the steps leading to the lab below, Sandeep hesitated.
Tess understood. He was scared to go near it.
23
Tess’s phone rang, yanking her from yet another dream. She was soaking wet again. Orgasms? Did I just have—? She tried to clear the fog from her mind, but she craved more. A NASA number. Nick must be calling.
“This is Tess.”
“Tess, it’s Nick. Did I wake you?”
“No, um, yes. But it’s okay. What’s up?”
“I thought I should let you know. There have been some, um…developments.”
“I’m listening.”
“Tess, Virgil is still transmitting the message…to you, approving access. But there’s something new. Now Virgil is attempting to send a file. A file meant for you.”
Tess sat upright, wide awake. “Nick, don’t allow it. Don’t download the file! Nick? Are you still there?”
“Tess, we already did. To Virgil’s backup computer, Leo. They’re identical. Leo is completely isolated. The file appears to be massive, and the signal’s fairly weak. It’s only a partial download. Leo ran out of memory. We don’t understand why Virgil has more capacity than its identical twin. We thought…I thought, maybe you could come in on a video conference when we try to open it. Since you wrote Virgil’s operating system, you may have some insight into navigating the file. Our hope is that it will shed some light on where the Essex has been, as well as how it’s been able to return. Would you be willing?”
