Lenders

by Johnson, John

  Herald pulled a chair and sat, digging deeper into the virtual world in front of him. He was focused, trance-like.

  Ana walked in with a cup of coffee. She saw Herald hard at work so teasingly offering Jon the cup. “Uno, dos… estas seguro Jon?” she whispered waving its aroma in front of his nostrils. He motioned no thank you without peeling his eyes from the show. It smelled great, but he just couldn’t turn himself away as Herald delved in and out of code view.

  Ana had seen Herald work quite a few times already, but for Jon the door had always been closed when he went full-throttle hardcore. He had never seen anything like this, not even close, and was unable to follow Herald’s progress for more than a second or so before losing him, again, and again. He looked to Ana exhaustively thunderstruck. He’s a machine, Jon thought looking back and his jaw fell pulling his dry lips apart. He gave up trying to follow any of the code so just watched Herald speed type, alternating between touch pad controls, and various other input devices.

  “Activate. Load 45,” Herald said dictating commands while his hands floated with constant momentum. “Copy line. Join 290. Append.” He continued the dictation speaking the words quickly, almost too fast to be understood. “Kill 476. Pop 2. Cut…”

  Ana quickly became good friends with Jon and Jodi. Since moving into the building Herald would let her stay in the room with him while he worked. She was the first to experience his gift in action. Herald told her that she was special; unlike any other, she only contributed to his productivity, never a distraction.

  Jon sighed. He felt insignificant with what he was witnessing, like a turtle, a slug. He knew Herald had always put in the most work, but just then gathered the full scope. He realized the team attributed less to the project; even less than he’d originally thought. And with the feeling, he changed his mind. Now craving the coffee after smelling the aroma infecting the lab, Maybe a little caffeine would hit the spot right now, he thought. Perhaps his subconscious craved a deal of the speed he was witnessing; caffeine could help fill the void. As if Ana read his mind, but she noticed, with a drained expression he looked at the cup; she re-offered and Jon eagerly accepted this time. She tossed him an I-told-you-so look and left to get Herald another.

  Only the pulsing brain remained, appearing center screen like its own universe, ready to big-bang. It was luminous and bright green, yet littered with, what resembled, measles. Herald tapped the red dots. Bugs, he mumbled and continued with now mostly unrecognizable dictation. He tapped one of the red blisters and the visual interface enhanced the section. On another screen the code would appear for that particular node, then narrow inward exposing hundreds of thousands of lines of additional code. Error lines gleamed in red text. Herald stopped and took a deep breath, then lowered his head as if meditating. He put his fingers together and pushed them toward the screens cracking his knuckles then shook his head vigorously for a good three seconds. He rebooted his own brain, and dove back in. Once again all screens were filled with thousands of lines in various color-coded patterns; many were indistinguishable symbols, another product of Heralds ingeniousness: the need for more characters, each with new and independent meanings. He was back at full speed attending to each measle, at a fast rate cleansing the electronic brain. He swapped back and forth frequently from his worn out keyboard—not a single character remained due to wear—to the touch panel affront it, occasionally reaching out to touch a point on the various screens, all while dictating.

  He must be typing at over 150 words per minute sustained—with simultaneous dictation! Jon thought; and his mind imploded with awe just to explode again with astonishment.

  Returning with another mug, Ana smiled as she noticed Jon wobble with wonder.

  Standing up again, Herald kicked out his chair. With a grand finale of keystrokes Herald began pressing harder, almost punching the keys; Jon realized why there were always piles of keyboards in the trash. Jon pictured a conductor in front of his orchestra. He could almost sense music as Herald played the keys with a steady, almost harmonious rhythm. The white code windows overlapping the brain closed one by one, hundreds remained but as he finished his accolade they disappeared fast. A pianist passionate for the climax, lost in his masterpiece—then, silence.

  A harmonious lime green glow emanated from the spherical graphic, now disease free. Its electrified lines wrapped the orb like the fat spaghetti of its organic counterpart. Glowing white dots traced the lines like ants. Now a galaxy of energy appeared to orbit the creation. The high-res screen portrayed it all beautifully. Herald stood back to see; with a contented look he touched his chin. Then he leaned in and tapped a few more keys. A white laser-line hummed vertically down, then back up. It repeated horizontally—scanning, filtering. All went dark.

  SYSTEM READY, the text appeared center screen with a flicker. A READY button appeared flashing below. Herald looked up to Jon, Earth called—he was back. He grabbed a pen and clicked it a few times, then lifted a finger waving it back and forth as if to make sure he didn’t forget anything. Content with his work he stepped a few feet backwards to Ana. She handed him his coffee—which he grabbed without looking as if he knew its exact coordinates in space-time. He took a sip and Ana put her arm around his back. He did the same. They were an inseparable pair, lock and key. All three faced the screen with the flashing button.

  “Herald—” Jon said demolished. “I knew you worked—fast, but…” Herald was too modest to ever allow anyone see him work. He was good, and knew it, but wanted to be—just a regular guy.

  “Well—Jon do the honors,” Herald said with a louder than normal smile. He gestured with a shift of his alien-shaped mug toward the computer. “This is code for the blocker. And it’s now ready. You can press enter to run the operation in the sandbox. Later we will upload it to those devices. This is a safe guard for us Jon—our family, and friends—a fighting chance, should things go wrong. It will make us completely invisible to any technology, machines, robots, sensors, almost anything. Go ahead press it.”

  “That was—I thought that was the AI we worked on. It looked so, complex,” Jon said a little confused.

  “Jon, the AI was by far more complex. I spent months on that, countless sleepless hours doing just what you saw here today. But don’t underestimate the power of this little device. Tomorrow we upload into the devices. I’ll have the hardware completed, and you will be in charge of keeping them safe. There are nine in total. I will only be keeping three.”

  Jon reached to the control screen and paused looking up to the two. Herald took another sip of his coffee. Looking as beautiful as ever and still in pajamas Ana smiled, nudging him to press it. And he did.

  SYSTEM ONLINE : MODE 1 ACTIVE

  A simple touch screen interface appeared with three blocker modes. It was so basic a baby could run it. All that code just for the blocker, Jon thought. He almost couldn’t believe it. In his mind flashed a scene from a comedy hidden-camera show.

  “Okay. Now what,” Jon said.

  “At next Tuesday’s board meeting, we announce completion of project Archeus. I hand it over to them. We’re done.”

  “You have it right here, and ready to go?” asked Jon.

  “Yes, would you like to see it?”

  “Herald, you know me by now. YES!” exclaimed Jon, antsy like a kid on Christmas morning.

  “Okay, come over here.”

  22. Rafael

  It was an old pile of junk, most would say, assembled neatly on the far side of the lab. Perhaps…waiting for attention.

  “Archeus can be uploaded into any type of computer system,” Herald said leaving Ana’s side. Jon followed anxiously. “It will adapt, essentially hijacking the systems core architecture, using any attached resources to the best of its ability. Here, check this out.” Herald headed over to the old computer near the window on the end of the counter.

  “What, this old piece of junk?” Jon laughed. It was a vintage 386. It sported a shiny chrome pawn shop sticker on it. Herald g
estured to Ana and she flipped a breaker that resembled a wooden throw-switch from a mad scientist’s lab. Herald reached to the back of the old casing and flipped the hard switch. “And what’s with that switch, is this a joke?”

  “For effect,” Herald laughed in return. “But you can never be too cautious when playing with fire.” He waved a hand outward. “Ana and I bought all of this. Flea-markets, pawn shops... I took the liberty of updating the ram slightly—it only had 16 megabytes to begin with, but we still used older equipment for testing purposes. You’ll see why later.” The machine hummed while he spoke, its noisy decades old fan breathing once again. Jon looked at it loosely, bewildered. “Simple setup really. We wired up some speakers, an old web-cam, basic CD-ROM drive, tube monitor. You’re right though, ancient.” It started quickly. A white silhouetted figure appeared on the old monitor and moved forward through black static. It floated closer until the head filled the display fully; then it came into focus. It was a man with antiquated features and a thin waxed mustache, clearly of Spanish descent. He had glossy black hair with perfectly placed curls.

  “Hello. Herald—Ana.” A gentle metallic voice sounded on the old speakers. It was slightly monotone with no trace of a Spanish accent to match the face, and the lips didn’t move correctly.

  “Hola Rafael,” Ana responded cheerfully.

  Rafael? Jon thought ticking his head back, tightening is brow.

  “Hello Rafael. We have a guest with us today. How are you doing?”

  “As well as can be expected I guess. I’m here—just lonely I suppose. I would enjoy some input.”

  “I think we can accommodate that but first I’d like to introduce my best friend. This is Jon.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mister Jon.”

  “How about a story? Would you give us a little summary once you read it?”

  “Of course, I’d be happy to Herald,” the man in the computer said. His toned uplifted slightly, like a kid about to receive a present he spoke noticeably faster.

  Herald turned to Ana. “Un libro para Rafael Ana? Tu escoges esta vez.”

  Ana pondered, “Um—si, tengo uno en mente,” and went to a drawer containing some old compact disks—more evidence of their thrifty flea-market shopping. She looked over them for a second and with an aha grabbed the one that had popped into her mind. She slipped it into the portable CD drive that was connected to the computer then stood back. Obviously she’d done it before, knowing exactly how. The drive loudly spun the disk for about fifteen seconds then spit it out.

  “What, it didn’t like that one?” Jon joked.

  “Take a look,” Herald said confidently. Jon leaned in. A few seconds passed and the screen flooded with color, abstract swirls like that of an acid trip appeared then quickly coalesced into a scene—like a dream, twisting with broken pieces. There were trees that wobbled on a ground that waved while the world, being generated right before their eyes, took form. Moments later Rafael produced: a movie. He generated the images from his own unbiased thoughts, and as a result many things were misshapen or of incorrect coloring but it quickly became clear and the picture stabilized. Then it sped up, faster and faster, flickering by at high speed. The entire movie completed.

  Jon looked to the CD drive and cocked his head to read the label. His face relaxed in realization and he puffed a grin. He knew exactly the story Rafael was aiming to portray.

  “Ah, good one Ana,” Herald said. “You see Jon, Rafael has very limited knowledge and only goes by what he reads, so many things will appear different from the story we know. Rafael, please rewind, bring us back if you would. Show us—actually, pick for us one of the characters of your choosing. And take us there.” And with that, a mere second later, he loaded the scene. A metal man stood frozen, rusting near his cabin. The camera flew by his silver face, circling the frozen ax-wielding figure. Oddly the face resembled that of, no other than, Rafael himself save for a heartbroken expression. Ana giggled.

  They all watched as the movie progressed with elaborate graphics, far more advanced than an old machine like that was capable of delivering. The trees were various colors and many things were askew, but Jon nodded acceptingly; he knew the story even though the awry style was different than he ever could have imagined. The movie flowed through the scenes which were a mix of animation and real images. Camera angles unlike anything a traditional movie would or could show. The longer the camera focused on any particular spot, the clearer and more detailed that spot became—like a dream.

  “Wow. Almost makes you dizzy,” Jon said.

  “Rafael. Pause for a moment. Can you please take us for a tour of the cabin?” The idea just popped into his Herald’s head. He remembered when he was a little kid watching the movie with his dad, how his imagination was uncontrollable. He’d always wanted to go deeper inside the movie, follow that other road, walk around in the woods, and explore the houses and castles. Ana really did pick a good one he thought. They’d sifted through piles of sun-melted disks, old audio-books, to salvage just the right ones.

  “I would be happy to,” the computer spoke mildly. “It really is a marvelous world Herald.” The video, as if through the eyes of a hovering drone, swept past the tarnished statue and dashed up the hill to the cabin. Inside it displayed a dusty and detailed and long vacant wood house with cob and spider webs, and dozens of oil cans stacked on a shelf in the kitchen. Things constantly changed, as if Rafael was getting better at imagining things as they should be. Herald noticed.

  “Rafael. Hold on the changes,” Herald said. “We’d like the story only as you first imagined it please.”

  A single cabinet was open and inside you could see a few assorted size funnels. The view of the camera flew through the house examining even the tiniest details: cracking wood, newspaper glued to the wooden walls—still readable in places, even pictures of family in crumbling frames. They were all made of shiny polished metal—robots: kids, aunts, uncles, even a metal mamaw and pappy littered the walls wearing dated outfits.

  Jon weakened onto a nearby stool; like an owl his head floated, unchanging its level or angle. His eyes were held prisoner to the screen. Awed but continuing to watch the movie he spoke wearily amazed, “Herald how is this possible? The hardware just isn’t there. That old CD drive can’t spin fast enough to read—it’s just an old pile of—”

  “Uh-hem,” Rafael suddenly appeared as himself, arms crossed standing in the doorway of the cabin. He had on tight tan pants and knee-high black boots. A lengthy black vest divided a bright-white baggy sleeved shirt. “A pile of junk Mister Jon? For now this is all I have. I can only hope in the future—” He turned his head to Herald uncannily. Spot on target, a master of his inputs, their gaze collided between worlds. “—I will be better equipped.” Herald sighed as both Jon and Ana looked to him as well.

  He simply looked at his watch. “You will Rafael. Please shut down now. We can talk again later.”

  “Yes Herald, and thank you for the book. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Good bye Ana. It was nice to meet you Jon sir.”

  “It was nice to meet—” Jon mumbled.

  Without delay the machine apparently shut down. Herald flipped the switch behind the casing and Ana certified the routine by flipping the old breaker. Again looking to his wrist watch, he pressed the stop button; the timer stopped with a tiny beep.

  “Jon, I hope you better understand the enormity of what we are about to let loose on the world. And I hope this opens your eyes to all that can be possible after we turn this over to VlexCom. Everything, Jon, I mean every single thing, life as we know it is going to change.”

  Humbled, Jon looked up to Herald. “But how Herald? How did that old machine do it? And Rafael?”

  Herald leaned on the edge of the counter crossing his arms. “Its very first taste of knowledge had much to do with its perception of self. The input it assimilates early on seems to have the largest impact on this. Counting this demonstration we’ve had him on for less than—two hours, t
hat’s total runtime. The program—now known as Rafael—learns extremely fast. You might have noticed how by the end of the book his tone and appearance had changed, evolved. Compared to the Rafael I first introduced to you—he’d grown significantly. In those few minutes he evolved lifetimes.” Jon nodded exhaustively. A silence stood between them.

  “This is exactly what I promised,” Herald continued. “We did it. The software will enter any system and completely rebuild it from the inside out. In this case, the old 386 now processes faster than some of today’s newer machines. Rafael, as Ana named it when we first uploaded Archeus into it two weeks ago, changed the software as it saw fit, optimally. After that it modified the drivers and eventually yes, even the hardware. Anything attached, like that old CD drive, has been reconfigured to benefit its existence. It is alive Jon.”

  “But how on earth can it modify the hardware?”

  Herald lifted the old beige cover. “Take a look at this.” The circuits looked as if a power surge had burned them. Some were blown completely off the board, others untouched. A few had been melted together. “It’s very creative Jon. It sent power surges and voltage changes to various circuits rerouting and optimizing them. A week ago Rafael showed me blueprints of what he wanted to do and I’ll admit, I obliged. A few days ago—see that large one over there by the old video card—I placed those jumpers for him.” Jon squinted to see the tiny wires jumping across the motherboard.