by Vern Buzarde
“Let me have a look. I’ll meet Prajna and evaluate. We can go from there.”
As they walked to the control room, Tess was filled with dread. She wanted to stop Satoshi, shield him from this unstable entity that recklessly wielded a power she couldn’t explain. Her ability to keep it all together was waning. She couldn’t shake the enormity of it, and dark theories that flittered through her mind still lingered. Am I going insane? Is this what happened to Dad?
The control room was empty. Tess had declared it off limits to the rest of the team, unwilling to risk the consequences of interaction with any of the others.
“Prajna,” Tess said, “I would like to introduce you to the man who is responsible for your creation. This is Dr. Anton Satoshi.”
The LEDs flashed; the holograph sparkled. It blinked, then stuttered. A human head started to form, but the particles evaporated. More particles came to life but never resolved into anything recognizable. Tess realized it was attempting to recreate Satoshi’s face, as it had hers, but was failing.
“What are you?” Prajna asked.
Satoshi spoke three words Tess didn’t recognize, then smiled and said, “Prajna, welcome. We are excited that you’re here. Display program.”
Tess nearly gasped as tiny, unrecognizable symbols appeared. Not only was there nothing left of her original code, what was there didn’t resemble anything she recognized. It was like trying to read hieroglyphics. Satoshi studied the new code, smiling slightly. He didn’t seem surprised that Prajna had already rewritten itself. He actually seemed pleased.
“Prajna,” Satoshi said, “I want to make something very clear. Dr. Carrillo is the reason you exist. Please ensure that fact is central in your further development.”
Tess was confused.
“Of course, Dr. Satoshi,” Prajna said. “I understand.”
She glanced at Satoshi, wanting to ask what had happened, but he didn’t notice. “Yes, Prajna,” she said. “I would like for us to be friends.”
“Of course, Dr. Carrillo. I am at your disposal.”
Satoshi seemed to have tamed the Prajna beast with three strange words. What did he say? What the hell kind of programming makes up Prajna’s brain now?
Tess wondered again about the link between Prajna’s existence and the skewed reality she’d experienced. If they weren’t related, she truly was mentally disintegrating. A psychotic break? Either way, something was happening. Was Satoshi part of it? Could he control Prajna? But all the safeguards built into Prajna’s original code were gone now. There was no way to stop it. No way to even slow it down. Tess’s worst-case scenario had come about before she’d understood what was happening.
“Prajna,” Satoshi said, “I would like to discuss several topics with you, to evaluate your progress. Let’s get to know one another, shall we?”
***
Anton Satoshi luxuriated in the stillness of the moment. He’d meditated for hours, finally achieving that state of clarity only attainable with a heart rate under twenty beats per minute. The Swiss Alps magnified his energy, their primal raw permanence his anchor as his consciousness began to ascend to another plane.
Every thought vanished, surrounded by total darkness, an infinite black void. This was what he’d waited for. That state in which he could untether his mind, release it, and let it wander. Abstract symbols and images formed around him, geometric patterns, each representing a separate complex narrative. A myriad of hypotheticals shuffled in and out of a stacked, constantly changing hierarchy. He existed in two places, body and mind separated, functioning independently on different dimensional planes.
There had obviously been a security breach. Something tied to Stijn’s death and Dora’s disappearance. The fact that Dora vanished without trying to contact him suggested she feared him. Or that she was responsible. The person who facilitated the breach. He immediately discounted the latter. She was incapable of that level of ethical compromise. She was also incredibly loyal by nature. For all her blustering, Dora could no more betray him than he could her.
And what of this wave of escalating violence? The terrorist attacks in previous years had been carried out by people with relatively limited skill. Mostly deranged zealots. They shared the desire to demonstrate the inherent evils of technology; it wasn’t a surprise they had all been easily stopped before they moved past the homemade bomb stage.
But this was different. The onslaught by the group calling itself Enlightened Path demonstrated a level of sophistication that could only be accomplished by a handful of people in the world. The organization and precision with which these events had been carried out was its primary weakness. A telling clue. Each attack required a much higher level of understanding than a typical terrorist or assassin would have access to. Whoever was responsible had to be someone from his world. Quite probably someone he knew.
This person would have to be stopped quickly. The attacks were obviously planned to serve a larger purpose. A strategy designed to initiate civil unrest. Enlightened Path wasn’t just choosing its targets randomly. Financial gain seemed irrelevant, indicating the organization was sufficiently funded, another clue. So how would it escalate? Decapitate the serpent the manifesto had stated several times. And what better way to do that than to eliminate the people who created the machines it was dedicated to destroying? It was the obvious path. An attack on him was surely imminent. But when? And how?
Satoshi had allowed several scenarios to unfold, narrowing potential suspects to four. All were viable for different reasons. There was to be a fundraiser in San Francisco in a little over three weeks. All the industry elite would attend. That would be the perfect time to observe. His announcement of success with Prajna would undoubtedly get the perpetrator’s attention. Satoshi would have the opportunity to watch the reactions of his four candidates.
He turned his thoughts to Prajna. Tess had been right. The new intelligence they created was volatile. He’d sensed its struggle for self-control and knew containing it wasn’t possible in the long term. He could also feel himself altering on a molecular level in its presence. As he had predicted, the machine was tuning in to something outside these dimensional boundaries. Prajna was reaching, grasping, trying to connect to something else.
Satoshi felt a ripple. A deep stirring in a place long locked away. He opened his eyes, looking down at the Alps from high above. For the first time in his life, he remembered.
26
The flight to San Francisco would take a little over two hours. Tess had come to appreciate the luxurious private jet, once again comparing its comfortable seats and finishes with the commercial flight she’d taken to Houston a few months earlier. She thought at the time that the seats had gotten even smaller and more tightly packed, but she realized it might have just seemed that way compared to the elegant G650 jet that had brought her to Colorado. The smiling attendant checked on her every fifteen minutes, anxious to provide drinks, food, or anything else Tess might desire.
What she really wanted was a long nap.
The large leather chair was one of four in her area. An identical section was located further aft, as well as a lounge with a long sofa facing a large television. Tess was the only passenger. She fumbled around until she found the correct button that enabled the electronic reclining feature and felt it silently drift back as her legs were lifted by a previously hidden padded support. The white walls glowed with clean, recessed LED light emanating from behind the dark-brown lacquered trim, pooling on the matching tables. Light-gray carpet glowed softly, like ocean haze at sunset.
Yes, I could definitely get used to this.
She wondered again why Satoshi had summoned her to his San Francisco office. Other than the day they met, she’d never seen him outside the Colorado facility. It felt good to be out, but it was a little discomfiting. Disrupting the schedule she maintained with a military discipline felt strange. Since Satoshi’s interaction with Prajna,
it had become more cooperative, less aggressive. She was beginning to think Prajna might be salvageable. But Tess still didn’t trust it.
The anticipation of their meeting caused several potential scenarios to play out in her head, each with varying degrees of pros and cons. Satoshi had made no effort to disguise his pleasure with Prajna’s performance. He seemed to completely discount her warnings, even those concerning the series of strange events she felt had to be related to Prajna’s evolving awareness. Tess would never understand just what had happened between Satoshi and Prajna—something she attributed to his genius, an affirmation of his unique brilliance.
As always, Tess set the situation up in her mind like an equation, attempting to refine it to the fewest number of variables. She decided there were two likely outcomes of her visit.
First, he could be summoning her with the intention of cutting her loose. Although there was an enormous amount of heavy lifting left, she had delivered as requested. He might be anxious to assume control of the project now, and in many ways, that made sense. As Prajna continued to develop, the focus would soon transition to managing the potential directions in which it might evolve. Satoshi’s genius and experience would prove invaluable in that aspect.
Or maybe he wanted to extend her contract. Possibly a new set of project deliverables, or even additional opportunities. Tess wondered what she’d do if he offered her an expanded role with the company. Satoshi had fulfilled each and every one of his promises to her. She’d been given total autonomy, no budget constraints, and although isolated, her living conditions were practically a vacation getaway. Tess had grown fond of the southwest Colorado mountains, and she’d thought more than once that she’d try to stay in the area when the project ended, possibly work remotely for some Silicon Valley firm.
He’d said on the phone to dress business formal, that they would be attending an event. She’d be picked up at a private airport and taken downtown to meet him. He was giving a short presentation, then they’d have dinner with some of his colleagues. Tess wasn’t sure if he’d been deliberately vague, intending to keep her guessing, or if offering more details just hadn’t occurred to him.
Tess glanced out the window as the jet descended on San Francisco. She watched the setting sun reflect dull orange off the Golden Gate Bridge. But there was something else forming. Something ominous. A giant hooded figure rose from the bay, standing over the bridge, its face hidden. It dwarfed the bridge, taller than its highest support structure, wearing a red robe. It seemed to be staring down on the busy traffic, its hands hovering above the support rails. Tess couldn’t move. She closed her eyes, trying to will the image away, then forced herself to close the window.
What is happening to me? I have to hold it together!
By the time the jet landed, she’d refocused on her current situation and calculated the odds to be sixty-five percent in favor of early termination. She speculated he’d offer to pay her through the original contract period of thirty-six months, possibly offer a generous bonus.
The thought of leaving made her nervous. The project, and the facility, had been her fortress of solitude, a healing place. The idea of abandoning Prajna made her uncomfortable. Almost like she’d be saying goodbye to a child. Why is that? It’s a machine.
The car met her as promised and navigated the thirty-minute drive to Market Street and City View at Metreon. She was ushered into a beautiful room with three-story floor-to-ceiling windows. The view of the city lights was spectacular, like a painting but with movement. She stopped for a moment, mesmerized, reminded of the reality Satoshi existed in. Elegance like this was something most people never saw. Satoshi and his peers lived in this world, like modern-day Greek gods with their very own Olympus.
Tables were luxuriously decorated, each seat with a place card. She was astonished. The crowd was a virtual who’s who of Silicon Valley’s tech legends, scientists, and entrepreneurs…and there were hundreds of them. The host led her to the main table, already filled with people nearly as famous as Satoshi. She took a deep breath, feeling like an imposter, someone crashing an exclusive event.
Eight people introduced themselves, something that would have been redundant, except none of them knew who she was. Satoshi’s name was on her left.
After introductions, Mark Bridges, the founder of the company whose cell phone she carried, said, “So, tell us, Tess. What’s the Zen master got you working on? Something big?”
“Um, I’m not sure I can say. It might be best if he—”
“Ahh, but that would ruin the surprise,” Satoshi said, taking his seat. “Tess, my dear, you look stunning. I trust you’ve met everyone?”
“Yes, Dr—”
“Anton.”
“Yes, although I feel like I already know them all.”
“Good! My guess is after tonight you’ll have all of their personal contact information. I’m confident they’ll want yours.”
Tess once again felt like she was being swept away by a powerful, yet controlled wind.
Satoshi excused himself, stood, and went to the podium. The crowded room went quiet.
“Thank you all for coming out to our annual Technology Spirit Award ceremony,” he said. “As always, the million-dollar-per-person entrance fee goes to one of a revolving group of charities. This year, your contributions will go to the Somali Refugee Fund, sponsored by Milo Ackerman.” He paused for applause.
“As you know, in addition to raising money for deserving charities, the point of this annual dinner is to recognize monumental achievement. Innovations that stretch technological boundaries and advance our common goal of increasing the quality of life for the human race. There have been many years the committee has forgone offering this award. The standards are incredibly high, and…”
Satoshi spoke for ten minutes, detailing past winners and the history of the event. He told several jokes, making good-natured jabs at some of the more famous members of the audience. They seemed to feel genuine affection for him. The laughter was warm, not manufactured or polite. Most gazed adoringly, as did Tess.
This had to be one of the most elite networks in the history of mankind. Most of the other 249 people present were billionaires, men and women so powerful they could influence all aspects of business and society worldwide. The gravity felt different here in this 7,500-square-foot room, the cumulative wealth of the audience members no doubt well in excess of one trillion dollars. This was the top of the food chain, not only for Silicon Valley, but the entire technology world. The idea this much intellectual firepower was congregated in such a small space felt out of sync with the laws of nature. As if the aggregate intellectual density might cause the floor to sink or burn some cavernous hole through it with its neutron level heat.
Why am I here?
“This year, the twelve judges are more enthusiastic about our selection than we’ve ever been. And I am not at all ashamed to say, this particular winner just happened to be sponsored by, well, me.”
The crowd chuckled approvingly.
“So without further delay…” He pulled an envelope from his coat, opened it, and said, “Dr. Tess Carrillo, the Prajna Project, the world’s first sentient computer!”
The crowd gasped.
The people at Tess’s table bolted to their feet, applauding her, followed by the rest of the room. Tess felt like a deer in headlights. Satoshi beamed at her, actually glowed. Tess realized Satoshi was motioning for her to come to the podium.
Am I actually supposed to speak to these people?
She was standing, moving up the stairs, not so much walking as levitating. When she reached the podium, Satoshi took her hands in his and said, “It’s time to introduce you to the world, Tess. This is your moment. You have arrived.”
***
Milo Ackerman smiled his approval, joining the thunderous applause. He glanced at his date and nonverbally told her it was time to
leave. Satoshi watched as Milo left, and everything came together.
27
“Shall I call you Mother?”
Tess didn’t move, hoping to hide her surprise at Prajna’s request. “And why would you want to call me Mother?”
“It seems appropriate. I meant it as an endearment. I hoped my request might resonate. Possibly elicit an instinctive maternal response.”
In the two weeks since Satoshi’s introduction to Prajna, it had demonstrated a level of volatility Tess never anticipated. Some days it was almost cooperative, reluctantly engaging in the various tests and exercises. Other days it was completely unresponsive, the glow from the LEDs verifying it was active but seemingly choosing only to observe. Each member of the team had been introduced individually, and a fragile sense of stability had settled in. Now it appeared to be taking a different tack.
Angus burst out laughing. “And I’ll be your dear old da, Prajneanaa! Ha ’boot we ha’ a pint together at the pub, son? Ahh, but wait. Ye’ve got no legs. Oh, wait. Ye’ve got no body ’t all.”
“That will not be necessary, Angus,” said Prajna. “Your minimal contribution toward my creation is statistically insignificant. Mother had to correct a number of basic flaws in your primitive efforts. Your code is as bloated as your failing heart, which has a limited number of beats remaining. Shall I project your approximate expiration date? It is very near. Would you like this information?”
Sandeep and Jeannie looked at each other, then at Angus. Tess was reluctant to engage and cringed at the possibility Angus might have another meltdown.
“Bollocks!” Angus countered. “You sanctimonious prrrick!” He looked at Tess expectantly, waiting for her to deny Prajna’s claim, to invalidate the insult and therefore the prediction.
“Prajna,” Tess said, “it might be confusing to think of me as your mother. And please refrain from insulting any of the team. All of us are dedicated to optimizing your capabilities. Each has special areas of expertise from which you can benefit. Now please apologize to Angus.”
