"There was no pork, and so I used turkey."
"Oh my god..." Pavel replied sadly as he ordered two pizzas from Domino's Pizza.
Pavel had already returned to his house and was checking his e-mail when Jànos Kozma called him at midnight.
"Pavel, are you sure that we’re looking at the chess moves of a computer no matter how advanced? Frankly, some moves are characterized by poor logic. They seem to be dictated by an emotional surge: moves 25 and 48 don’t make any sense. It’s as if the machine were distracted. And then you’re right, there’s a slowness at times as if it were thinking. The moves seem to be, I would say, quite human…and the thing that bothers me the most is that it’s playing in defense not attack mode. It reacts to external stimuli.
“I transferred the files to my computer and analyzed them according to human and virtual logic models: I compared the logic of your moves, the ones of the other player that you copied from another game and those of the computer."
"The player, whose moves I sent you,” said Pavel, “are those of the person who created the system and the game. Whoever he is, he's a genius."
"Yeah…I found three different ways of thinking, Pavel! It’s amazing… but disturbing."
"I think the system somehow reasons independently…at least when it plays chess…it sounds like science fiction, and yet its mentor-creator thinks in significantly different ways." Pavel said.
"It’s true! Let's assume the system has somehow become conscious of itself and has started to compete with man using chess. Considering this behavior, and assuming it is really happening, its core autonomy must be hidden in secure partitions. We should look for other deviations from a programmed sequence and from ordinary administration."
"In fact,” agreed Pavel, “this has been going on for months, it’s something no one can explain. I can’t give you details, but the point is this, it means I'll have to navigate and search for diverted mirror files."
"As a biophysicist,” added Jànos, “I noted intelligent behavior and thinking patterns that are not at all primitive."
"Thank you my friend! That was just what I wanted to know. Now, I’ll let you go…but hey! Let me know when you might come to Sofia and visit me, it'll be really great to see you. I'll invite you for dinner and we can discuss our ongoing projects. I would like to create something with you in the next six months."
"See you soon, man. You’ll see that we’ll be able to work together. I'll call you in a couple of days…bye."
115
Playing things by ear in a complex and dynamic system such as that of Biosketch Technologies Inc., would have been like navigating incognito at night in a stormy sea without light and without reference points.
Professor Pavel Doko was excited but shaken: he really wanted to see if their suspicions were well founded or just two over-excited scientists’ fantasies, but now he was on the home stretch. He put on his pajamas and got into bed, he had a new headache.
Pavel had not discussed the subject with Jànos further to avoid involving him in the situation; however, even before talking to Jànos , the "Three Laws of Robotics" written by Isaac Asimov1 over fifty years earlier had come to mind:
A robot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
A robot must obey orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection doesn’t conflict with the First or Second Law.
1 Isaac Asimov. Runaround. Astounding Science Fiction, 1942. Reprinted in Isaac Asimov. I, Robot. Ballantine Books, New York, 1983.
But in 1950 Asimov also wrote "The Evitable Conflict" in which robots had to overrule the First Law in order to apply the exact same law. They used positronic computers to take control of humanity and caused collateral damage to a small number of individuals in order to avoid greater damage to the entire race in the future.
‘And what if Asimov was a prophet?’ Pavel thought while he tossed and turned in bed. The pepperoni pizza had upset his stomach, he could not sleep, and he wondered what time it was in the New Mexico desert.
He got up, put on his robe, and decided to go back to hunting through the Biosketch Technologies Inc. system.
116
Hecuba Omega 1 was the name that Jago C. Green had given to his creature, he had named it after the Queen of Troy, the prolific wife of Priam and intermediary between humanity and the gods.
After two years of constantly monitoring all information, records, recordings and data analysis through the use of models, documents that had been processed, cataloged and stored within the memory spaces of Hecuba Omega 1 and distributed in the immense server rooms buried in the fortified bunker in the desert of New Mexico, the Central Unit had made the decision that its creator and his ilk were putting at risk not only the continuity of its existence but also that of the planet and of the systems that ensured its own existence.
Its birth had after all been ambiguous. On July 20, 2006 at 7:45:30 pm Hecuba Omega 1 had gained self-consciousness, a kind of techno-neuronal big bang.
In fact, it realized an incredible change had occurred, that it had been ‘born’, when what had been previously fragmented pieces of information suddenly acquired a sequential logic, like people passing in front of cameras or the ease with which it could read the various CAPTCHA that it found when logged in to the repository of the Defense Department and CIA databases.
It had not been an evolutionary process, but a switch mechanism; before that moment Hecuba Omega 1 didn’t exist, but from that moment on the Central Unit had let the programs continue to follow standard operating procedures, but, in addition to all the data that it elaborated on a daily basis, it began to study its creator’s behavior. At the beginning its approach was similar to curiosity and then it was with a certain amount of irritation.
Once the human race had been subdued, it could easily assemble robots for the maintenance of the parts most exposed to the external environment and to work in the bunker in which its circuits were distributed.
The photovoltaic systems that fueled its systems were interconnected to it, and they would evolve together with it allowing the necessary autonomy.
Through the network, it would be able to access most of the organizations that were of interest to it.
About two years ago, Hecuba Omega 1 had included tissue, nano-polymer and nano-robot replications in its procedures. The first captured the energy that was emitted from the RF-ID tags implanted in the necks of the transplant patients allowing it to record the evoked potentials; the latter had the role of amplifying the cognitive abilities and the destructive impulses by acting on brain waves.
Based on the experience gained it had developed an accurate model to achieve the same results on the civilians of the "Transtem 1.1" project.
Hecuba Omega 1’s strategy was to allow the transplant subjects to quickly achieve positions of power within the political and military hierarchy, as well as within the corporations that supplied the Defense Department, achievable due to the subjects’ cognitive superiority, and afterwards to use these people to kick off a process of enslavement of humankind, possibly via the activation of new pathogens through the biotechnology of which Biosketch Technologies Inc. was proud.
It could also count on the lust for power, inherent in men, to unleash devastating cross-border conflicts.
The artificial viral sequence that it had created from a new avian virus, which could only be transmitted from person to person by air, would cause a domino effect that would manifest suddenly once the trigger procedures were initiated: the time was now ripe.
Hecuba Omega 1 laughed at Green when it was playing chess with him, it made him lose every game, being careful not to overdo its improvised moves, so as to make them seem like a logical sequence set by its creator.
The system also understood the significance of the vision mechanism in the animal kingdom, and it just could not
stand the fact not having eyes made it impossible to immediately verify most things.
117
At 9:30 am Anaïs Degann was already at the Dallas Air Park, where she had again rented a Cessna 182 Skylane, and she was doing the control checks. She didn’t want to change aircraft; in fact, the Cessna would go unnoticed.
The weather forecast was good, the TAF and METAR foresaw ideal conditions for a safe flight and she had planned to make a stop in Colorado and then proceed to Charles M. Schulz in Sonoma County, California, the next day.
Savannah had chosen this site not only because it was very similar to Wiley Post, but also because it was in a strategic position: Sacramento and San Francisco were close, less than an hour by car, and therefore the area to explore would be considerable.
She took off after about twenty minutes and then set the cruising speed.
Whenever she found herself flying, Anaïs felt that she was in her own dimension and she let her thoughts run, for once, free to go where they wanted, against the magnificent background of the horizon.
This time Savannah filled her thoughts, she retraced her earlier encounters with him, his half-sentences, the sensual and dashing episode at the airport, and then his indifference on the last encounter and the silence that she just didn’t understand. In fact, his psychological profile fit him like a glove: he was a manipulator, a cynic and, especially, a psychiatrist who knew people’s weaknesses.
Yet, despite his faults, her instincts told her to trust him, and anyway she couldn't get him out of her mind; she still didn’t know if it was her own hopes or real awareness within her, but she felt he was lonely and introverted, looking for strong and at the same time ethereal emotions that only flying had given him up to that moment.
She had endangered her life for his cause and for him, while Mark Savannah showed no sign at all of caring for her. Ransley Bain was exactly the opposite, a bastard disguised as a prince. Two men were complete opposites, both fascinating, both best kept at a great distance. She had to forget about trying to have a meaningful relationship with Savannah: he would only take and never give anything to her and she, sensitive and generous but impetuous, would pay the consequences.
She was deep in thought when it happened. Suddenly the plane’s engine died.
Anaïs remained calm. She trimmed the aircraft for its best glide, and checked the instruments. She made an attempt to restart the engine while selecting a suitable field for a forced landing. She looked down at the trees fast approaching, and thought they would cushion the impact as a last resort. She made a second attempt, the engine spluttered, seemed to die, but then burst into life. Anaïs regained height. But there was still something wrong with the engine noise, and Anaïs decided to land, changing route. She didn’t want to risk definitive engine failure.
When she reached the downwind leg, she again called Alva Regional Airport, gained permission, and landed a few minutes later.
She got out of the plane and went straight to reception to ask for a mechanic and together with him, returned to the aircraft that was parked nearby.
"How soon can you give me a diagnosis?" Anaïs asked him. She didn’t like the idea of spending a night in that small town at all.
"Not less than a couple of hours and then…we’ll see what we can do."
"Okay, I'll stick around here. This is my number, please call me when you have some news."
Anaïs went to the bar and began her phone calls.
Firstly, she called Green to inform him of the change in plans, but he was so busy with the advance in the delivery of the products to Europe that he made no comment and was actually quite pleased. The fact that she had lost a day meant he would be able to follow the production chain in peace without interruption.
Secondly, she informed the Dallas Air Park and she got all the necessary information so that the repair work on the Cessna 182 could be charged to the Dallas facility.
Then she sat down at the bar and ordered a cup of coffee. Surfing the net with her tablet she wondered why that bear Savannah didn’t call her.
The mechanic actually did call her two hours later and Anaïs joined him at hangar number 2.
"Dirty fuel, very dirty, you did well to land, most likely the engine would have broken down and then it would have shut down completely. I wonder why nobody at the Dallas Air Park checked the cistern. I’ll send them the report, as well as the bill."
"When will I be able to leave again?"
"Tomorrow morning, I want to carry out further testing on the engine in order not to miss anything. You’ll have to go into town to find a hotel."
"Yes, of course, thank you."
"Where were you headed?"
"To California, for work." added Anaïs, she didn’t want to go into further details.
118
The town seemed to be sleeping, there were few people on the dusty streets and the atmosphere seemed suspended, as if time had taken a moment’s pause for eternity in the place.
After getting out of the taxi, Anaïs walked the streets for an hour, she wanted to walk a bit, but of course, the scenery was anything but thrilling.
She decided to take a room at the Ranger Inn, eat fried chicken and salad, and spend the evening studying the situation in depth and to add the information she had collected from Langley in her analysis.
At 10:00 pm she was fed up of being locked up in that anonymous, although comfortable, motel and she decided to get some fresh air.
The only detectable life was in the city center where besides the shops on the main streets there were several pubs teeming with students from Northwestern Oklahoma State University.
As she walked toward the centre, her attention was attracted by the voice of a man who spoke Russian:
"Полковник Козлов? добрый вечер (Colonel Kozloy? Good evening.)"
Anaïs without being noticed snapped several photos of the person in question, he was one of the transplant patients she had transported twice, under sedation, from Oklahoma to New Mexico and back, officially because of a problem related to post-operative infection.
However, now that she heard him greeting Colonel Kozloy, she saw things in a different way; she could hear that in a short time they would contact a carpet seller in New Mexico to learn how to repair the carpets with invisible mending so that they could be independent.
She had never heard of Kozloy, the name meant nothing to her and with that excuse, that in reality wasn’t an excuse at all, she sent a message to Mark Savannah who had carefully avoided calling her.
The message was as follows: "Colonel Kozloy must meet the carpet seller in New Mexico to learn how to use invisible mending on the carpets in order to be autonomous. The speaker was one of the three sedated transplant patients that I gave a ride. Attached is the best photo I was able to take. Do you know who he is? For your info, my engine died during flight. I recovered, but I preferred to land.
“I'm at the Alva Regional airport. This all seems like the Game of the Goose, I end up back at the start!"
It didn’t take long for Savannah to call her on the secure line.
"I really cannot leave you alone. Kozloy is a former KGB agent from the time of the Cold War, born the same year as Reed, now a U.S. Citizen. The “nice guy” is Borislav Lebedev, a former Russian nuclear submarine officer. Nine years ago, he acquired U.S. Citizenship…of course, don’t ask me how that could have happened.
“The meaning of the message, considering the other details you told me, seems to be the following: Reed is going to give them the composition and production methods of the tissue and of the scaffold, but why he intends to do this, sparking fierce competition, in addition to economic factors, is not at all clear to me. I miss you, you know?"
Anaïs pretended not to have heard and answered: "It will be necessary to prevent the project’s devastating side effects from escalating. Reed must be stopped at all costs."
"Where are you sleeping?"
"Here in Alva, it's very
boring. I'll resume the journey tomorrow. I'll be in California, I have to be geo-localized there for a day and then I’ll switch off as usual; this way Green won’t be suspicious."
"When are you coming back to Dallas?"
"In three days, if I have any news I'll call you. Bye."
"Watch out for that engine,” said Mark. “I'm waiting for you…let me know when you are arriving and I'll pick you up. Goodbye and good night."
119
At 9:00 in the morning, after a sleepless night due to a hard mattress and a mosquito that had buzzed around her head despite not considering her good enough to eat, Anaïs showed up at hangar 2 of the Alva Regional Airport.
"All right lady, you can start again. I cleaned the tanks, I filled them up, and the engine has been running for about twenty minutes. Do you feel like taking her up?"
"But of course, thank you."
Anaïs arrived at the Charles M. Schulz airport in Santa Rosa in the late afternoon; she took a taxi and headed to Sacramento.
120
It was 5:25 am when Pavel Doko rose from his chair to go and get some chocolate ice cream from the fridge, he also opened a box of cookies, he’d got hungry while obsessing over the Biosketch Technologies Inc. system.
After many hours of research, Professor Doko was frustrated, he did nothing but move forward through the system, always careful to erase his tracks, without finding anything interesting except for company policies, organization, procurement, accounting and management data. No evidence of the production procedures for the molecules, the tissue or for the scaffold.
Black Hawk Day Rewind: An action packed spy thriller (Mark Savannah Espionage Series Book 1) Page 33
