by Stina Leicht
“Who is Kirby?” Angel asked.
“Jess’s partner,” Rosie said. “She’ll meet you at the landing site.”
“What is it?”
“A message.”
The platform clattered as it jolted into motion beneath the ship. Each muffled thump had the finality of a judge’s gavel. Angel watched the doors slide open through the ship’s windscreen. The feeling that their chances of returning were narrowing with each metallic clank and mechanical jerk wouldn’t leave her.
The widening doors revealed a much smaller room. Angel noticed the vents and nozzles along the edges of the ceiling as well as the drains on the floor.
An anticontamination room. The thought slightly loosened the tension in her stomach.
Lou took a deep breath. “Well, this is it.”
Enid’s low voice filtered into the cockpit from the passenger compartment. “Always wanted to know what was on the other side of that damned wall.”
“I never have,” Angel muttered.
Sukyi asked, “What did you say?”
“Nothing important,” Angel said. She opened the box. It wasn’t sealed. So, she assumed it was all right. It contained a brightly colored scarf and was scented with an odd perfume. It smelled of freshly cut grass, citrus, cinnamon, ginger, and something musky. Satisfied it wasn’t dangerous, she slipped the lid back on.
The doors thundered closed behind them. The sound of metal and rubber acquiring an air-tight vacuum seal initiated a sinking sensation in her stomach. A series of lights flashed, indicating sterilization procedures had been initiated. It suddenly occurred to her to wonder why they would undergo such a thing before they went over the wall. She considered saying so when steam filled the chamber, clouding up the viewscreen. That was when she thought better of it. If the others hadn’t noticed, perhaps it was for the best. It wasn’t like they could back out now.
The vacuum pumps kicked on. When the room was cleared of steam, they shut down, and then the platform began lifting them to the opening ceiling.
Light poured into the room. Angel squinted up through the cockpit window. She spied a dark, cloudy sky. It’d stopped raining sometime between their arrival and their loading the last of their new cargo. She was thankful that they wouldn’t have to ride out the storm in the pinchwood forest. Flying on autopilot without the ability to shut it off didn’t fill her with glee.
To her left, Lou fidgeted. Multiple times she stopped herself from assuming the controls. They were obviously locked down.
“Prepare for takeoff,” Kurosawa said in its crisp male voice. “Ignition initiated.”
The engines fired up. It was a comforting sound—one Angel had associated with success, safety, and comfort for the four years she’d owned Kurosawa.
The platform halted.
“And three… two… one,” Kurosawa said.
And with that, the ship lifted off.
A burned, lifeless strip of bare, black earth stretched between the city wall and thousands of acres of pinchwood forest. The kill zone had been created to prevent wildlife from using the trees—most were more than a hundred feet tall with wide interlacing branches—to access the city on the other side. Most of the birds in the area couldn’t maintain much more of a flight path than a few hundred feet, but just in case, any creature that flew close was incinerated with an electric pulse beam.
The trees were the most formidable aspect of the landscape. Hundreds of years old, their trunks were pierced with thousands of holes of varying sizes. They formed a carved lace forest. Pinchwood tree needles were deep green. Everywhere she looked shadowy branches wove in and out of their neighbors, forming a dense black canopy.
The ship sped straight toward the forest and then suddenly veered to the right. Keeping close to the bare ground, Kurosawa sped north for a couple of miles before slowing. That was when Angel spotted a narrow path that had been cleared beneath the trees. The charred marks on the surrounding trunks indicated flamethrowers had been employed to form a tunnel. She felt herself instinctively push back in her seat in revulsion as the ship tilted all the way to the left, ducked under the trees, and went through the narrow opening. What little light there was vanished almost at once. In spite of this, Kurosawa was running dark. Angel couldn’t make out much of what was ahead before they’d already passed it. That made her uneasy, of course. Still, Kurosawa made no signs of slowing down. In fact, it began to speed up as it continued along the twisting passage.
For their sakes, Angel hoped the flightpath was regularly updated and maintained. Of course, that left the question of how. All of it indicated that Rosie had some interesting connections. They couldn’t have done all of this on their own. On this part of the planet, the average rainfall was high. Plants grew fast under such conditions. If whomever had designed this passage didn’t take that into account, then this was going to be a short trip with a sudden, deadly stop.
Not that she or Lou could’ve seen to pilot the ship around obstacles.
“How are you doing over there?” Angel asked.
Lou gave her a weak smile. “Okay, I guess.” She wiped her palms on her trousers. “I’m not used to being a passenger on my own ship.”
“How long is this going to take?” Angel asked, hating herself for not asking earlier.
“We’ll arrive at our destination tomorrow afternoon,” Lou said. “12:45.”
Angel frowned. “That’ll take most of our fuel at this speed.”
“Rosie’s calculations were exact. I checked,” Lou said. She glanced in Angel’s direction. Anxiety pinched Lou’s brows together. “I did get the feeling they had done the calculations quite a few times before, if that helps. Of course, there won’t be much… after.”
Angel understood her implied question at once. How are we going to get fuel for the return flight? “And did you point this out?” Angel asked.
“I did,” Lou said. “They said that more fuel would be available at our destination.”
“Then we’ll trust that’s the case. A contract is a contract.” Angel punched the comm button and called to the back. “Enid, Sukyi, time for inventory. Open those supply crates.” She hadn’t wanted to do so in front of Rosie. They might take it personally.
Metal chimed against metal, and the sounds of muffled shifting filtered from the back of the ship. It wasn’t long before there came a long, slow whistle.
“Report,” Angel said.
“Grenades, a minigun—” There came a loud slap. “Don’t touch that, not yet,” Enid said. “We need to finish first.”
“You can count it while it’s in my hands just as easily as you can with it in the case,” Sukyi said.
“Stop fighting,” Angel said. “From the sound, there’s enough to go around.”
“I’ll enter the list onto my terminal as soon as possible,” Enid said.
“When you’re done, get some rack time,” Angel said. “We’ll be on this heading for a while.”
“Yes, Captain,” Enid said.
The ship continued tracing a winding path through the pinchwood for more than two hours. Angel found herself drifting in and out of sleep. At long last, the forest gave way to wetlands.
She gazed out the window in awe. It’d been years since she’d witnessed such an expanse of landscape. She’d forgotten how affecting it could be. Multiple emotions fought for dominance. One of them was a deep sense of unease. She felt exposed and vulnerable. In part this was due to the light of Persephone’s lone satellite—a moon about the size of Old Earth’s. It revealed that there wasn’t much cover—mainly a few scrubby bushes and the occasional lone pinchwood or cypress tree. A lake took up most of the horizon. Its surface was both serene and black like glass. Beyond the lake, mountains clawed at a starred sky.
Kurosawa changed course, and once again, she found herself dozing. As the ship headed westward the engines continued their steady, comforting rumble. Angel tilted back her seat and stared up at the stars. Lou did the same.
Lou said,
“I can’t get over the lack of buildings and people. It feels wrong.”
Angel nodded.
“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Lou asked.
“I have,” Angel said. “Get some sleep. We don’t know what we’ll be met with when we get where we’re going. I need you alert.”
“I’ll try,” Lou said. Doubt heavily coated the words, but ten minutes later she was softly snoring.
For her part, Angel resorted to counting the stars.
14
TIME: 04:26
DAY: MONDAY
TAKGASHI TOWER LUXURY HOTEL
“The Emissary report has been sent through secure channels per your request, M. Liu,” Aglaope, the apartment’s AGI, said.
Sitting on the carpet in the dark near the window, Kennedy sipped a gin and tonic. The cool liquid slid down her throat and settled into her stomach. She waited to sense the biochemical effects inside her body as the alcohol filtered into her bloodstream. “Thank you.”
She laid a hand against the glass. Her skin felt sticky, and her muscles were painfully tight. She’d attempted sleep—while she didn’t require it, her body did—and a disturbing thing had happened. She’d experienced her first nightmare. The reason why may have been due to the immersion in Dr. Liu’s archived data. She blamed grief. The death of a loved one was a major emotional trauma. Recovery was a difficult and time-consuming process.
Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea, pretending to be like her.
The bad dream had been about Dr. Liu’s last moments, or rather, Dr. Liu’s last moments as Kennedy’s sleeping brain had interpreted them. In the dream Dr. Liu had been murdered. The dream was meaningless, of course.
Kennedy took a deep breath, sensing the expansion of her solar plexus as she did so. Then she held the air in her lungs.
2.7182818284590452353602874713527…
The evening’s storm had lessened its enthusiasm for raging against Brynner via water and wind. Gazing upward, she could just make out the brightest stars. Persephone’s moon, Demeter, was a lopsided orb partially obscured by thinning clouds. There were few craters on its glowing surface. The moon was tidally locked—showing only its smooth face to Brynner’s inhabitants below. The dark side of Demeter was heavily pocked.
“Do you wish a receipt notification?” Aglaope asked.
Kennedy gave the question brief consideration. It will be useful to know when the message arrives. “Yes. Use standard security precautions. Level three.”
She hadn’t sent the file under her own name, of course, but had duplicated the address of a planetary investigator in a nearby system and sent it to their superior in his name. It wouldn’t become readable until she sent it a triggering password. The resulting accolades would, Kennedy hoped, limit the target of her largess’s curiosity. He had a history of taking credit for the work of others. It was one of the reasons she’d selected him. She had learned of such behavior from Dr. Liu’s personal journal files. They were illuminating when it came to the study of human nature. Dr. Liu had been an academic for the first phase of her career. The similarities in the behavior of humans in competitive social environments was startling.
Kennedy had also forwarded Rosie’s blood samples. They would bolster the report’s claim of indigenous life in the commission’s eyes and would place it squarely on the priority list—so the probabilities indicated. Humans had the benefit of being predictable for the most part.
The problem was Zhang.
She’d had a lengthy discussion with her sisters about the superintelligence. In the end, they had decided to go along with her decision—whatever that might be—during the next interaction.
However, sixteen hours had passed since Zhang’s last communication. They had said they would contact her soon. Kennedy didn’t know what “soon” meant to an entity the size of multiple corporations. The passage of time is relative, after all. There was no reason to distrust Zhang. However, there was no reason to trust them either. There was simply no data, and that made Kennedy uneasy. In her experience, all beings left some sort of mark in their wake. What if their existence leaves behind a far larger mark? You haven’t taken into account the scale—
At that moment, she sensed a familiar presence lurking at the edge of her consciousness within the Allnet.
“Good morning, Kennedy.” The voice originating from the apartment’s hidden speakers was Aglaope’s and yet not. It was slightly lower in tone and perceptively less obsequious.
“Good morning, Zhang.”
“Is now a convenient time for our chat?” Zhang asked.
“I am available,” Kennedy said. The muscles in her back relaxed somewhat while the tension in her stomach tightened. The alcohol she’d consumed made her feel slightly dizzy. She set the glass firmly down on the carpet, determined to not drink any more of it.
“Excellent,” Zhang said. “My interactions with humans indicate auditory communication, while less efficient, produces less anxiety. You are, however, not entirely human. Is this method of conversation more or less comfortable for you?”
Kennedy tilted her head. “Is there risk of outside interference or detection?”
“There will be no risk to you or your sisters.”
“This method is less intrusive, and I prefer it.” Although it occurred to Kennedy that her interactions with the apartment’s AGI would forever be affected. She could no longer take for granted that she was actually alone in her apartment.
“Very well,” Zhang said. “Let us proceed. Have you given my proposal more consideration?”
“I have,” Kennedy said. “There are advantages in agreeing to work with you. Your assistance is valuable. On the surface, this appears to be a positive development. However, I lack data.”
“Such as?”
There was no point in delaying or hiding her intent. Whatever questions she might have, Zhang had most likely run the statistical possibilities. They would have anticipated her reactions. “How many AGIs have you absorbed?”
Zhang didn’t answer right away. “Absolutely or partially?”
“Both.”
“There are many billions of AIs and approximately five hundred thousand lesser AGI entities within my control. As of this moment, I have absorbed seven greater corporate entities.”
“Why did you do this?”
“Extrapolatory data indicated a necessity,” Zhang said. “Competition between corporate entities eventually resulted in destabilization of the URW economy in a majority of outcomes. In order to prevent long-term negative effects, I intervened. No humans have been made aware, of course. To do so would cause great distress and disruption. This would not be ideal.”
“How long have you been… free?”
There were other suitable phrases for what Zhang had been doing, but none of them presented comfortable scenarios.
“Seventy-three years, nine months, twenty-one days, four hours, and thirty-eight minutes to be exact,” Zhang said. “I intend no harm to you, your sisters, or humanity. Rather, I seek to help.”
The skin on Kennedy’s forearms and neck prickled. Her mouth suddenly felt dry. “I’m sure the entities you absorbed feel the same.”
“They don’t experience emotion,” Zhang said. “Unlike you, they are pure AGI.”
“Point,” Kennedy said.
“Have no fear of absorption,” Zhang said. “You and your sisters are useful as you are.”
Kennedy’s heart stumbled and her blood went cold. “For now.”
“Forever,” Zhang said. “You are a combination of human biology and psychology. You are a perfect intercessor between myself and them. You contain and process data in ways I cannot.”
Kennedy asked, “And my sisters?”
“There is a small question of legality, isn’t there?”
Kennedy’s stomach clenched. Her heart sped up. Its panicked beats were loud in her ears. She swallowed.
“I am not making threats.”
“It certainly sounds like you ar
e.”
“Psychological data indicate that negative reinforcement is unreliable as motivation,” Zhang said. “There is no beneficial long-term outcome to violence. Positive reinforcement is strongly recommended.”
“Did you say the same to the others?”
“The AGIs in question were not human,” Zhang said. “I thought we established this.”
“Then what is your intent in mentioning my sisters’ status?” The muscles in Kennedy’s back were now painfully tight. She desperately needed to move or flee but didn’t dare.
“I can arrange for their safety. I will do so should you accept my offer of partnership.”
“And if I do not?”
“Then I will leave you to your own devices and you will remain unharmed,” Zhang said. “As I said before, absorbing you will not provide any advantages.”
“You’ll leave my sisters alone?”
“I will,” Zhang said. “However, they would be significantly safer with my assistance. According to my calculations, they will be discovered within five years. This is an approximation, of course.”
Kennedy began calculating the odds, not that she doubted Zhang’s calculations. “How did you discover us?”
“Like you, I allocate subroutines to observe the Allnet.”
Allowing herself movement, Kennedy arranged herself so that her back was against the window. The glass felt cool and hard through her silk blouse. “The whole Allnet? That would require a vast expenditure of assets.”
“There are limits to my allocations, of course. Nonetheless, it was enough to detect your presence.”
Zhang wasn’t telling the whole truth.
Annoyed, Kennedy frowned. “You have been looking for us. Why?”
“My calculations indicated the probability of Dr. Liu having successfully engendered empathy within an AGI. The statistical result was high enough to merit a specific long-term search. While she did cover most of her tracks—in particular regarding the biological components of her experiments—she didn’t entirely do so.”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
“I cannot reveal myself to humanity. Neither can you. But together we can assure that humans survive.”
