by Stanley Bing
“You remember what we’re supposed to do?” he inquired nervously.
“I think so. Crack it open.” Liv dropped down beside him, and they worked for a little while as the big machine’s brain throbbed around them, thinking all the thoughts of all the people in the world.
“So Stevie was actually a woman,” remarked Gene as he watched Liv insert flange A into receptacle B, or some damn thing like that.
“Born that way, anyhow. Hold this steady.” Liv handed him a needle-nosed pliers and showed him where she wanted it amidst a tangle of wires and switches.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to like her.” Gene did as instructed.
“Well, she wasn’t exactly the most approachable person I ever met.”
“No. Well. Maybe next time around.”
They looked at each other and smiled. She’s so pretty, Gene said to himself for possibly the millionth time. Liv thought, I wonder what will happen when the horrible one inside him comes out to stay. What will I do then? She gave a little shiver.
“It’s cold in here,” she said. “I guess I didn’t dress properly for the occasion.”
“Extreme heat and cold are the enemy of reliable data storage,” Gene observed.
Liv paused, and they listened to the silence for a moment.
“Yeah,” said Gene. “I can feel them coming.”
Liv worked faster. As she did, she said, very delicately, “So this thing we’re doing . . . We’re sure about it?” She phrased it as a question.
“I don’t know,” said Gene. “We’re doing it. I know that.”
“Scary.”
“I know.”
“But what could be worth destroying all this, Gene? I know it’s kind of late to ask.”
“All I can say is, I’ve seen the business plan. This is better, believe me.” There was a final snap of metal fitting into metal. The two looked at each other.
“I mean, we’re sitting in the middle of the supreme achievement of our civilization here,” said Liv, “and we’re about to destroy it.”
“Not destroy, Liv. Disable. To buy time. To give the human race a chance.”
“All the books that are here. The art. The recipes.”
“Recipes?”
“I understand it’s being misused.” She took his hand in hers. “Maybe we could do something about that, before taking this step. There have to be enough people of goodwill to stand up and set things right.”
“Really, Liv?” said Gene, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt. This is what good people do, he thought. In the face of evil, with the insanity of power staring them directly in the face, they want to reason with it, cut a deal that will make the forces of darkness see the light and suddenly turn rational and sympathetic.
“Stop right there!” It was Mortimer, standing at some distance at the top of the ramp with a neuralizer in his hand.
“Mort,” said the little green creature under his other arm. “Lighten up. We’re having a discussion here.”
“Huh?” Mort sounded genuinely confused. He was the cavalry, ready to wipe out the Indians before it was too late. Now they were having a discussion?
“I’ve been watching what’s going on through the idiot’s eyes, and I’m aware there is at least one sentient person down there. Isn’t that right, Livia?”
A white-hot bolt of electric fear shot up Liv’s spine and through the top of her head. What was this thing that was talking to her? It spoke with the voice of a child, but it was clearly Arthur in there. She had heard that tone of insinuating, condescending smarm before. And it knew what they had been saying! Had it been looking at them through Gene’s eyes? Its two brains were now merging into one? It could communicate with itself remotely? Well, why not? The whole thing was so crazy. Why not this?
“Mort,” said Arthur in the voice of Lucy, “just take your time now for a minute and walk very slowly down the ramp here so I can have a civilized and adult discussion with Livia.”
“Fuck you, Arthur,” said Gene. “I’m here, you know. And I know what you’re doing.”
“Oh yes,” said Arthur. “But only for a few more minutes. Come on, Mr. Mortimer. Very shortly I’ll be able to discard this silly little body. But until then, I’ll thank you not to do anything to hurt the other one.”
Mort, weapon at the ready, slowly moved down the long ramp toward Gene and Livia. As far as the eye could see and the ear could hear, the hard drives that made up the Cloud gurgled and chuckled in the fluorescent glow that had kicked on at their arrival. Immediately beyond the two and their small payload, now armed, the giant Faraday cage that held and protected the central brain stem of the Cloud towered up to the top of the gigantic space, a thin spire of polycarbon salacyliate metal fifty stories high, lined inside with neural hardware, some of it as organic as human brain matter, that transported the trillions of incoming and outgoing data packages that were transacted every nanosecond.
“Livia understands that what you two are about to attempt will set humanity back a thousand years!” Arthur had assumed the pompous tone all moguls achieve when they begin to discuss the ethical basis of their actions.
“You’re not fooling anybody, Arthur,” said Gene. “We know you.”
“Gene, you’re a simple soul,” said Arthur reasonably as Mort continued to inch forward, a step at a time. He and his underarm package were now only a football field away from Gene and Liv. Arthur’s voice echoed through the canyons of the Cloud. “Your mind is an empty shell filled by the rudiments of Bob’s database and whatever vacuous bilge you had there to begin with. You can pretty much shut up while I have a little chat with your sexy friend here. Who is a babe. Did I forget to mention that?”
“Stop, Mort.” Gene suddenly had Stevie’s tiny pulse emitter in his hand.
“He won’t shoot that little thing, Mort,” scoffed Arthur. “You may proceed.”
“You find me attractive, Arthur?” Livia peered at the synth with a strange mix of amusement and, under that, a grim appreciation for the demented power of a being that believed wholly in its ability to manipulate whatever person came under its spell.
“Oh yeah. Tired of Sallie, you know. Had her day. Time for some fresh air.”
“Mort,” said Gene, “stop, man. I’m begging you.”
“You and me, Arthur?” Livia had assumed a coy, playful tone.
“Liv,” said Gene. “What the fuck?”
“Definitely,” replied the artificial voice that had once been Lucy. “He’s gonna sober up in about five minutes. I’ll be me again. We’ll retire this weird little body, although I will say it’s been very useful to me. I’ll be sorry to trash it. But we move on, don’t we? Don’t we, Liv? When it’s in our best interest, we move on.”
“Sometimes,” said Liv.
“Sure we do, baby,” said Arthur amiably. “Particularly when it would place the whole world at our disposal.”
“Tell me more about that.” Liv had stood and was leaning on the side of the Faraday cage, one hand on her hip, the other on Gene’s shoulder as he still crouched near the backpack, now so thoroughly confused that he truly couldn’t tell which end was up.
“Tell me more about the vision thing, Arthur,” said Liv rather sweetly.
“You and me, baby, that’s the most important thing,” said the lizard. “Then just think about this shit. I own this. I own all of it. Right, Mort?”
“Right, Arthur.” Mort was now within twenty or so yards of the tip of Gene’s minuscule weapon. “But I’d like to point out that he’s got that ‘little thing,’ as you call it, and I really do think he intends to shoot me with it.”
“And soon it will be you and me, you sweet thing, and the whole fucking world will be in our hands, and there won’t be a thing that we don’t control through the power of this beautiful Cloud to mold the minds of men and women. And anybody that doesn’t like it will come to like it or else, baby! And whatever it is you want, kiddo! The biggest houses all around the world! The most amazing hardware! Wetw
are! Software! There will be nothing and nobody beyond your reach because we will own it all—for eternity! Because there is no death! Not for us! Mort! Keep moving!”
“Arthur . . .” Mort now stood, fused to the spot.
“Hey! Shit for brains! Move in! But don’t hurt the body! Don’t hurt the body!”
Gene stood and leveled the weapon. “I’m telling you, Mort,” he said very calmly. “I’ll blow your head off. I’m not kidding you. I’ve only got a few minutes to operate here. Then this cocksucker is going to shove me under.”
“He’s right,” said Arthur with a greasy, triumphant smile on his lizard lips. “And I will have won! Get him, Mort! But don’t hurt his body, or I will fuck you up!”
There was a brief moment where you could see the little gears moving inside Mort’s head, calculating all the variables. Gene had leveled the weapon so that its tiny red laser dot was focused on a spot right between the security chief’s eyes. But would Gene pull the trigger? It was easy to think that you could vaporize somebody’s head but another thing entirely to do it, Mort deliberated, to see the top of a body disappear in a haze of red mist and gray matter; to see the neck spurt the heart’s blood up into the air like a fountain. Wait a minute, thought Mort. That was the evaporation of his own head that he was imagining!
“I’m sorry, Arthur,” he said. Then he put Lucy down on the surface of the ramp gently, almost tenderly.
“Hey!” said Arthur. “What the fuck are you doing? Mort! Mort! I will have your ass!”
“Excuse me,” said Mort, backing away from the scene in front of him as the little green monster kept up its obscene caterwauling. “I will see you at the top of the ramp, whoever emerges. We’ll have to discuss our egress, since the army outside will incinerate anybody who is not accompanied by the boss here, in whatever form he may take.” Then Mort gave a little bow of sorts, turned, and ran as fast as humanly possible back up the ramp and disappeared into the darkness beyond the main room.
“Okay,” said Arthur, looking up from his height of approximately fourteen inches. “I admit this is a setback for us, if you choose to see it that way, Liv, but I’m still right here. And I’m still there, too, inside numb nuts. We can still make it work, you and me.”
“Good idea, Artie. Let’s see if it works.”
“Step away from the device, baby girl,” said Arthur with the full power of his malevolent force behind it. Except this time, it was coming from Gene’s mouth, and Gene’s young, powerful body, now almost sober and ready for action, was turning on Livia to take final executive control of the situation.
“Too late, you guys,” said Liv. “You showed too many cards.”
In one swift, fluid motion, she dropped down, laid both hands on the first device, and pushed the button. “Thanks for reminding me why we’re doing this,” she said. And all the light that powers the universe filled the immense space around and above them.
30
Amy Speaks
The blast was over. Silence reigned supreme. The door to the inner sanctum that housed the Cloud’s prodigious brain stood open. Liv got the little orb still residing in the famous blue backpack and put it in her jacket pocket. It was unharmed. Electromagnetic pulses take out some things and leave others intact, as neutron bombs will vaporize people but leave buildings standing.
Gene was sitting cross-legged on the highly buffed floor of the Cloud. He was looking around him with a pleasant, childlike wonder. “Hey,” he said to nobody in particular.
“How ya doin’, buddy?” Liv crouched down to look at Gene, eye to eye.
“I feel okay.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“In fact, I haven’t felt this good in a long time. Maybe ever.”
“Well, that is splendid.” It was clear to Livia that while the lights were on up there in Gene’s cranium, no one was as yet at home. All things considered, this seemed to be moderately good news.
“Do you have any idea where you are, baby? And who you are?”
“Not so much. But I think it’s okay.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I know I know you pretty well.” He looked around the humungous space they were in. “This place, on the other hand? Like, I don’t think we live here.”
“No,” said Liv sadly.
“But we do live somewhere? Together?”
“Right?”
“I’m . . . Gene?” He made it a question, because that’s the way it felt to him.
“Yes,” said Livia, touching his cheek lightly with two gentle fingers. “You are Gene.”
“I think I had a headache,” said Gene. “But now it’s gone.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Liv stroked his cheek for a brief moment. Then she took one of his hands in both of hers and peered into his eyes, doing her best to conceal her fear. Had to ask, though. Better to know. “I’d like to talk to Arthur now, Gene,” she said. “Can you let him out?”
“I beg your pardon?” Gene looked at Liv for a second. “Look,” he said. “This is really embarrassing.”
“I think I know where you’re going.”
“I know we’re close and everything.” He gazed up at her face. “God, you’re so pretty.”
“Thanks.” The look Liv was giving him was not friendly.
“But I don’t know your name, I’m afraid.”
“It’s Liv. I’m Livia.”
“Yeah. That’s right. Livia.” He smiled at her then and, gently entwining his fingers in her hair, tenderly drew her lips to his. “I can kiss you, right? You don’t mind?” He kissed her again. Then he moved her face a bit away and looked at her some more. “A certain amount of shit is coming back to me,” he said. He kissed her again, and she kissed him back, and then they just held each other tight in the middle of that deep, dark tank that stretched for miles both up and sideways.
“Can we get out of here?” said Gene after a little while.
“Not quite yet. We have one more thing to do.” Liv felt in her jacket for the second device and closed her hand around it.
“Okay,” said Gene. “Let’s do it, then. I don’t like it here. It’s cold and dark and smells like dust.”
“Okay, Gene.” Liv rose to her feet and steeled herself for the task that lay ahead. It was more difficult to contemplate than she had expected.
A small green presence climbed into Gene’s lap. “Woof,” it said.
“Hi, Lucy,” said Gene, and he petted her on the head.
“Arf,” Lucy replied with dry good humor. “Bow wow,” she added.
Huh, thought Liv. No Arthur in there, either, that was pretty clear. Lucy settled down in Gene’s lap. They regarded her closely, the creature who had once been the supreme executive of all creation but was now, once again, just Lucy: a synthetic creature the size of a runty cocker spaniel, with a shiny green pelt, stubby little legs, and a head roughly the shape and size of a rugby ball.
“Come here, sweetie.” Livia opened her arms and beckoned the small monster in. Gave it a hug.
“Again,” said Lucy, “woof woof.”
“You can’t fool me,” said Liv. “You’re a nuclear physicist in there.”
“Arf,” said Lucy.
“That’s your default reply? That’s the best you can do?”
Lucy stared up at Livia with soulful eyes. “There’s a lot of ways you can interpret a simple woof,” she replied in a confidential tone.
“Here, you take her,” Liv said to Gene, and handed Lucy back into his lap. “I guess I gotta do this.” She stood and looked at the malignant orb she now held in the palm of her hand.
“I wish I knew what the fuck was going on,” said Gene from his comfortably prone position. “I never do. It’s pathetic.”
Liv went into the corpus callosum of the Cloud.
She was stunned. It is impossible for anyone who has not been inside the cage to comprehend the height of this artificial being’s central nervous system, a glowing Burj Khalifa lined throughout with neur
al infrastructure both silicon and carbon based. Liv stood in its eye, hefting the device that would fry its gonads in a couple of seconds. And as she stood there, contemplating the enormity of what she was just about ready to do, a most remarkable thing happened. It shouldn’t have surprised her. How long have we been talking to semi-intelligent machines? Since the early part of the century, for sure. First there was Siri, who was like a stupid friend who you kept stupidly asking for advice. And then Alexa, with whom we fell in love, even if she was a little hinky now and then. Now every machine could talk to you. Your car. Your toaster. A vibrator with whom one could also have a little pillow talk afterward.
It began the instant Livia crossed the threshold. First there was a deep, quite lovely musical tone—or to be more precise, many tones played at once, with a deep, reverential bass, gorgeous midrange, all coming together to build a stunning sonic archipelago that mounted to a bouquet of top notes as musical as the tinkling of wind chimes, the twittering of tiny birds in unseen trees. Then a pleasant voice, female, not too loud, no dramatic echo. A simple, agreeable voice. Within the confines of the space, it was close, intimate.
“I am Amy,” said the Cloud. “If you want to activate me, just say, ‘Hey, Amy,’ and I’ll respond.”
“Okay.” Liv stood in the middle of the thing. She suddenly didn’t feel like killing it at all. She felt like being its friend. Or, you know, sharing things with it. She had a nice voice.
“Hey, Amy,” said Liv. She stared up at the massive tower of lightly throbbing, cycling lights that reached up to the limit of her sight, a lofty city of luminous, interconnected engrams. She had no idea where she was going with this sudden urge to reach out and talk to Amy. Wouldn’t it be easier just to place the destructive little toy? Set it off remotely as she had been taught?
“I wonder if you would tip your head up a bit so I can register your facial scan a bit more precisely.” It was not a command, just a polite request. Liv saw no reason not to comply. “I thought so,” said Amy. “Hi, Liv.”
“You know me,” said Liv. Of course Amy knew her. Amy knew everybody.
“Here’s a playlist I think you’ll enjoy,” said Amy. Very softly, Beethoven introduced himself into the metal alloy of the Faraday cage. Naturally, it was something on her playlist. “Sounds like it could have been written yesterday,” Amy observed contemplatively. “Of course, he was completely deaf when he heard it inside his head and put it down on paper. I imagine I could do something very much like it, but it wouldn’t be an original creation. It would be derivative.”
