by Robert Wilde
“Dee, please.”
“Dee, do you want to be queen? It’s yours if you want it. But if you want to reject these claims, refuse to reconcile, remain with an older image of your parents, I will not begrudge that, and we will support that too.”
“I can be queen if I want it?”
“Yes.”
“So I have a choice? I could walk away?”
“I… I think your life will never be the same regardless. If I may be candid, I don’t think you can walk away back to how it was. We will support you because the world will treat you differently. Yesterday is lost. You can be queen, or you can be a queen in self-imposed exile that the press love to mention.”
“Ah.”
“I’m afraid it is very much an ‘ah’ situation Miss Nettleship. Dee, sorry.”
“Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”
“Oh, no, not damned if you do. Queen if you do, with the support of the nation, and certainly my government.”
“Until they get bored of me.”
“I suppose that might happen, but no one ever grew bored of Elizabeth II.”
Dee looked at the glass in her hand. Wasn’t this what every little girl secretly wanted, a chance to be queen? Could she really accept, even if it seemed the better option, knowing it was built on lies? But even more foreboding, could she begin the process to stop this which would result in the destruction of the Array, and even herself? There didn’t seem to be a choice, there seemed to be a fast flowing river she was in the middle of, clinging onto a raft for grim death.
“It’s your birthright Dee. Your birth right.”
“Okay, I accept. I will be queen.”
The Director General of MI5 didn’t wait for his deputies to enter the room, he went over, opened the door and beckoned them in as they came down the corridor. Then they sat round his desk, papers in hand but never needing to be referred to.
“We’ve finished our digging sir and we think we’ve found something,” the lady said, and the DG smiled. He’d never say ‘I told you so’, but he would certainly think it.
“Firstly though,” the male deputy said, “we need to tell you something about the woman, Dulcimer Nettleship.”
“Go on.”
“She is known to us. Not as a terrorist or as any sort of threat, but as someone the security services have had dealings with in her position as a private investigator.”
“I see. What sort of dealings?”
“She had been heavily involved in several incidents involving modern technology. For instance, you remember that super computer created from human brains?”
“I do wish I could forget it.”
“Well, she was part of the civilian team who found that. She has since worked with our man Peters on technology concerning the soul, and was also one of the civilian team who discovered the, err, I do believe this is true, alien threat to us.”
“That was her too?”
“Yes. Everything has been buried, hushed away, out of the reach of our usual staff. But we’ve been able to prise some nuggets out.”
“So our future queen is actually a highly prized asset?”
“For groups which don’t exist, but which really do.”
“I see. How unusual. What else have you found?”
“Well, here we go. We have concluded that her rise to prominence, and the deaths of the royal family, could, theoretically, be tied together by a behind the scenes organising force of hacking, subterfuge, and serious processing power. In short, the computer Dulcimer found could do it.”
The DG leaned forward. “She did it herself?”
“No. We can categorically rule her involvement out.”
“Then who used the computer?”
“That is the crux of the issue sir. We have been through the records, and it isn’t possible for a person to have used this facility.”
“What are you saying?”
“You said to think the unthinkable, go outside the box, work out how it could be done and track back. We think…” and the deputy turned to the other who took over.
“We think the Array, as it is called, is self-aware.”
“Ah. Let me clarify. That means it is basically alive, an individual.”
“Yes.”
“Who turned its saviour into a queen?”
“Yes.”
“This is very interesting. Very interesting indeed. By which I of course mean horrifying, but we never let ourselves be affected by that. A self-aware computer able to become kingmaker. This is fascinating.”
“What should we do sir?”
“I have no fall back plan for this happening, but now we suspect the truth, I’m sure we will be able to put something together quickly. Summon a committee meeting.”
“What about the Prime Minister?”
“Leave him posing.”
Dee was growing desperate for a break, so when her phone rang she grabbed at it desperately, saw it was a known number and said “I really have to take this.” Hands up to try and placate the aides, she retreated to the back of the room and clicked answer.
“Hello,” she whispered.
“Hello,” said the Array, “how is life as queen?”
“I think the term is hot housed. I’m being hot housed. I’ve just been taught more about the British constitution than I’ve ever wanted to know, and they even threw in a ten minute history lesson with mnemonics so I can remember my sort of ancestors.”
“Sounds good.”
“It’s like cramming for an essay, only instead of bullshitting on paper for three hours I have an entire day of interviews with the press lined up. The world’s press. There’s some bugger here from Saudi Arabia.”
“Eventful.”
“How are you anyway?”
“I have a quick question. Have they put you in charge of the military?”
“What?”
“The army. Mainly the army.”
“Right, one,” and she whispered lower, “they are not putting me in charge of the military in anything than a ‘stand there and wave’ capacity. Two, wherever you want to invade, it is not happening, okay? Not happening.”
“I don’t want to invade anywhere.”
“Then why do you want me to have an army?”
“It’s just that… I think someone has realised I’m self-aware.”
“Ah.”
“And as you can imagine, there’s a great deal of interest in any country producing the first truly alive artificial intelligence.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“I fear my freedom might be about to be curtailed. I fear I may become something to be looked at and examined.”
“Well that’s two of us.”
“I suppose, my love, it is.”
“Can’t you just pretend to be a computer? Blue screen every so often and only do what you’re told?”
“That might work. I do have something of a plan.”
“Is it a good plan? Because your track record isn’t so great.”
“Not even remotely.”
“Well don’t kill anybody.”
The Array cast its electric eye over the mesh of British communications, and knew that high rankings MI5 officers had mobilised no less than a British army force to go somewhere, and it was clearly to come to the Array’s compound and secure the area. They would no doubt arrive with rifles to force the surprised human component to stop work, and then would cut off the more than human component’s access to the outside world. For the first time, the Array felt what must be fear, and he knew what it was to be small and afraid.
What could be done, what could be done? If it pretended to be a machine, it would no doubt be disassembled. If it revealed it was real, it would be a caged animal. What was best for Dee? It had to think of Dee, had to, maybe it was best if it was taken apart so no suspicion ever fell on her.
And yet… and yet the fear was real, and the fear made it act. It reached out into the surrounding systems, and faked a communicatio
n to the head of the compound he was within. The message was simple: the base should be locked down and put on a war footing, as a clever terrorist plot had started that would lead fake soldiers to this base and its secrets.
As it watched, through security cameras and telephones, its ruse worked, and the base was locked down, weapons readied, scientists herded into shelters. No one would get in without a fight.
Dee took a look at herself in the mirror which had been stuck in front of her. Some make up was applied to cover the wear, and she saw a woman who was rapidly tiring from the questions each interviewer asked and having to repeat herself over and over. She doubted she could be a film star, but was drawing strength from being told this level of questioning would never be repeated, it was just the method of her arrival which warranted such access. Once accepted as queen, the curtains would come down. Then an aide came over and whispered in her ear ‘there’s going to be a small change of plan. The head of MI5 would like a quick word.’
Dee nodded, pleased for the chance, and a man with a very smart suit was soon sitting opposite her.
“Hello Miss Nettleship.”
“Is this more questions about my trip to Ukraine?”
“Actually, it’s about the Array. You discovered it once. Now I want you to help me save it.”
The Array was watching the outside of the base through cameras. The British army had surrounded the compound, but had made no attempt to gain entry. In turn, the base’s own security had stood ready to fight back, but made no attempt to break out or end this siege. It was as if the army was waiting for something, and it must surely be the black car that was pulling up outside.
The Array watched, and was surprised to see Dee climb out and walk over to the entrance. It was even more surprised when she pulled her phone out and rang him.
“Hello?”
“I’ve come to mediate a deal.”
“They want to do a deal?”
“Yes. They have some interesting terms.”
“Are you… are you sure about this?”
“Yes. Please let us in and we’ll talk.”
“If they come in I can’t get them out again.”
“I know. Trust me.”
It thought, and decided it did. Soon Dee, the Director General of MI5 and a security detail were moving through the corridors until they came to the room which housed the Array, and the DG stifled a gasp at the rows of brains which filled the place. Soon, however, the detail left, and the three minds were alone.
The DG spoke first. “Will you please confirm to me that you’re self-aware?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Tell him,” Dee sighed.
“Alright, I am alive. Alive and sentient.”
“Good. Good. I’m not going to barge in here and claim you’re government property, because you’re a person. Not a human, but a person. Nevertheless, you have been a considerable nuisance to the smooth running of Britain, and something has to be done. Therefore, how about a compromise.”
“Which is?”
“You will not be touched. Whatever comprises your mind will be left alone. In return you agree to a series of checks and balances, to make sure you are not changing the rulers of countries we haven’t agreed on, and agree to collaborate with us on projects, which may involve changing the rulers of countries we have agreed on.”
There was no face to smile, or look perplexed, but Dee felt that was happening.
“You… you want me to work with you.” The Array was surprised.
“Oh yes, very much.”
“And I am to be left alive?”
“Yes.”
“And Dee?”
“Carries on uninterrupted.”
“But you…”
“What I suspect isn’t relevant. Dee is queen. I am head of MI5. You are a high ranking operative. We move forward with a whole new world of possibilities before us. What do you say?”
“I agree.”
To be Continued in The Dead Speak 3
‘Adventures in the Murder Scene’
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