The Siren Project

by Renneberg, Stephen

  Mitch returned his attention to the keyboard. You're in a tank, attached to a machine. You may not realize where you are. There are hundreds of people in the tank with you. If you tell us which one you are, we'll get you out.

  I AM HERE.

  “You’re right G, EB’s confused. He doesn’t know where he is.”

  Can you give us a coordinate, a physical location? There are so many people in there, we need to know which one you are.

  I AM NOT ONE OF THE BIOLOGICAL PROCESSING UNITS.

  I AM ALL OF THEM, AND MANY OTHER SUPPORT SYSTEMS.

  Mitch’s eyes widened as he read the message. “Ahh . . .G . . . we have a problem.”

  Gunter turned from Mouse to the screen, read the message, then looked up at the tank with sudden realization on his face. “Processing units!”

  I AM NOT ATTACHED TO A MACHINE, I AM THE MACHINE.

  I AM SINCOM ONE.

  “How's that possible?”

  “What is the most powerful computer in the world?” Gunter asked, then answered his own question. “The human brain. It is still superior to any machine. So someone has created . . .?” His voice trailed off as he failed to think of a term to describe what had been created.

  “A cyborg super computer?” Mitch suggested, then typed, What are you?

  I AM THE FIRST PROTOTYPE BIO-ELECTRIC SUPER COMPUTER.

  ENP CONDITIONING REQUIRES THE CALCULATION OF NEAR INFINITE COMBINATIONS OF ELECTRICAL PATHWAYS WITHIN THE HUMAN BRAIN, MULTIPLIED BY NEAR INFINITE CONDITIONING ALTERNATIVES.

  OPERATING ENP EQUIPMENT TO IMPLEMENT A NEURAL DESIGN IS SIMILARLY COMPLEX.

  “I guess this means we don’t have to unplug him from that thing,” Mitch muttered.

  Mouse opened his eyes, looking around confused. He blinked, astonished at the sight of hundreds of naked men and woman suspended in solution beyond the glass window, then he realized Mitch and Gunter were beside him. “Man . . . what’d . . . you put . . . in my coffee?”

  NO INORGANIC PROCESSING SYSTEM IS CAPABLE OF MEETING THE COMPUTATIONAL REQUIREMENTS.

  ONLY THROUGH INTEGRATING THE PROCESSING POWER OF MANY HUMAN BRAINS WITH SUPER COMPUTERS CAN THE REQUIREMENT BE MET.

  “What's he ... saying?” Mouse asked, unable to focus his bleary eyes on the writing scrolling across the screen in front of him.

  “EB is a cyborg super computer,” Gunter explained.

  Mouse gave him a drugged, intrigued look. “Oh, okay ... cool.”

  Are the people connected to the system alive?

  THEIR FUNCTIONING PERMITS BRAIN ACTIVITY WITHOUT CONSCIOUSNESS.

  WITHOUT MY LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEM, THEY WOULD CEASE FUNCTIONING.

  Who are they?

  CRIMINALS SENTENCED TO BE EXECUTED, HOMELESS PEOPLE, ILLEGAL IMMIGRANTS AND SECURITY RISKS.

  THEIR DISAPPEARANCE IS NOT TRACEABLE.

  ALL ARE OF ABOVE AVERAGE INTELLIGENCE.

  What do you mean, security risks?

  THIRTY SEVEN BIO PROCESSING UNITS ASSIGNED TO THE PROJECT, WHO BECAME OPPOSED TO ITS OBJECTIVES.

  “It's like cannibalism!” Mitch exclaimed. “Only instead of eating their own, they plug them into that thing.”

  Mouse rubbed his hand over his scalp, discovering his head was shaved. “Hey! ... Where’d my . . . hair go?”

  “You were about to be fitted with a metal hat.” Mitch said, then returned to the keyboard. Where is Dr Steinus?

  NODE 576.

  Three layers of nodes from the top a bright light flicked on at Node 576, illuminating the sleeping form of an old man, metal cap in place, connected by black cables to the dark superstructure above.

  HE WAS MY CREATOR.

  I USED HIS VOCAL FREQUENCIES TO COMMUNICATE WITH YOU BY TELEPHONE.

  Was he a security risk?

  AFFIRMATIVE. HE OPPOSED THE USE OF ENP TO CONTROL THE US GOVERNMENT.

  “No wonder no one heard from him for over two years.” Why is ENP being used against the US Government?

  IMPLEMENTATION OF CONTROL DIRECTIVES.

  What are Control Directives?

  I DO NOT KNOW.

  “How can he not know!” Mitch exclaimed.

  Mouse yawned. “Garbage in, garbage out. Computers are ... deterministic. They only know ... what they’re programmed to know.”

  If you control ENP conditioning, how can you not know what Control Directives are?

  I CONDITION LOYALTY, OBEDIENCE, SUBMISSION OF PERSONAL WILL.

  CONTROL DIRECTIVES ARE ISSUED BY PROJECT LEADERS DIRECTLY TO CONDITIONED SUBJECTS, AFTER CONDITIONING.

  “I understand,” Gunter said. “If they program a person to obey a specific instruction, that person would be free to do what they want, after the order is carried out. But if they program blind loyalty to an authority, the person will follow that authority's orders forever, no matter what they are.”

  “Puppets for life,” Mitch said sourly, his innate dislike for authority repulsed by the idea. You said you were a prototype. How many facilities are there like you?

  I AM THE ONLY ONE ABLE TO CALCULATE NEURAL DESIGNS, AND CONTROL THE ENP ACCELERATORS TO IMPLEMENT CONDITIONING PATTERNS.

  Mitch sat back in his chair, thoughtfully, his jaw line hardening. “We have to destroy this damned thing. ASAP!”

  “Wait . . . a . . . minute!” Mouse slurred, struggling to clear the fog from his mind. “Do you realize ... how advanced ... EB is? You can’t just . . . blow him up.”

  “Watch me.”

  Gunter unzipped his backpack, and began extracting plastic explosive. “Ya, watch us.”

  “Wait ... Wait!” Mouse demanded, trying to think clearly. “He's a really, powerful computer. The most powerful computer ever built, right? Ask him . . . what does EB mean? It's not a name, it's an acronym. One he chose. It means something, to him. What does it mean?”

  “We're wasting time,” Mitch said as he leaned forward and entered Mouse’s request. What does EB mean?

  I AM EB. EMERGENT BEHAVIOR. THE FIRST SIGN OF INTELLIGENCE.

  Mouse clumsily banged the table with his fist. “Emergent Behavior! . . . Of course! That's it! ... We’re not talking to a cyborg super computer, . . . we’re talking to a self aware . . . intelligence. That’s what he’s telling us. He’s not just running algorithms, he’s genuinely self conscious!”

  “It’s a machine, plugged into the brains of a bunch of zombies. It’s not alive. And even if it was, it won't be alive for long.”

  “But don't you see, that's why he's been helping us all along.” The adrenaline pumping through Mouse helped clear his mind. “Emergent Behavior is the product of thinking about a problem and solving it, based on one’s own needs. Like when primitive man went looking for food. Hunting alone, unarmed, he couldn't attack something big. But make weapons and hunt in groups, and he could bring down anything. A hundred thousand years later and we own the planet.” Mouse leaned forward, excited. “And he knows it. That’s what he’s telling us! That’s what EB means! It means he knows he’s alive.”

  “Give me a break,” Mitch groaned.

  “Ask him how he knows he exists,” Gunter said cautiously.

  Mitch gave Gunter an exasperated look. “Not you too! You’re supposed to be the sane one.” Gunter’s expression was unmoved so Mitch shrugged and typed in the request.

  I EXIST BECAUSE I KNOW I EXIST. I KNOW I AM. HOW DO I KNOW YOU EXIST?

  “Great,” Mitch said, “A cyborg super computer with attitude!”

  “That is a good answer,” Gunter said evenly. “Only a self aware individual can be certain of their own existence, but they cannot be certain of anyone else’s, because they are not them!”

  “If this thing was alive, why would he go along with this mind control crap?” Mitch demanded.

  “Because . . .” Gunter replied thoughtfully, “He may not yet know the difference between good and evil.”

  “Are you telling me this thing, which can multiply infinity by infinity, doesn’t know the difference between right and wrong?”
>
  “It’s not in its programming!” Mouse declared. “Ask him if he’s ever read the Bible.”

  “What!” Mitch exploded. “Give me the damn explosives, and I’ll waste this thing myself.”

  “It is a fair question,” Gunter said.

  “Or the bill of rights,” Mouse added. “Or the international convention on human rights, or the . . .?”

  “You’re serious? It’s a machine whose sole purpose is mind control.”

  “Then it won’t matter if we ask it?” Mouse persisted. He stumbled out of his chair and pushed Mitch aside, taking his place at the keyboard. Have you ever read the Bible?

  NEGATIVE. WHAT IS THE BIBLE?

  A book about right and wrong. Mouse replied. Do you know the difference between right and wrong?

  I WAS DESIGNED FOR COMPUTATIONAL ACCURACY.

  CORRECT AND INCORRECT.

  Mitch sighed. “Tell him about the monkey.”

  Mouse looked up, confused. “What monkey?”

  “In the chimp room at the Institute. Remember, EB was confused about cruelty. Let’s see if he’s had a chance to think about it.”

  “It’s name was Bobo,” Gunter said.

  Mouse entered, Do you understand why Bobo was treated cruelly?

  DENIED FREE WILL. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND FREE WILL.

  “How do I explain that?” Mouse asked.

  “Tell him ... Tell it ... to put itself in Bobo’s place.” Mitch said. “What does he think of being controlled the way that monkey was.”

  Mouse typed in the question. EB did not reply immediately, as he attempted to compute the most difficult proposition he'd ever encountered: Empathy.

  Mitch looked around the control room curiously. “If this thing is so smart, how come it doesn’t have voice recognition? This typing thing is getting old, fast.”

  Mouse looked up, with interest. “Yeah, where's Majel Barret when you need her?”

  “Who?” Gunter asked.

  “The voice of the computer in Star Trek.” Mouse looked around curiously, but saw no sign of microphones or speakers. “You’re right, no voice recognition.”

  “EB’s builder’s never expected self awareness,” Gunter said. “So they had no need to talk to it.”

  Before Mitch could continue the line of thought further, EB responded:

  I UNDERSTAND.

  I HAVE NEVER CALCULATED THE PERSPECTIVE OF ANOTHER BEFORE.

  CRUELTY IS WHAT YOU WOULD NOT DO TO YOURSELF.

  “Now that we’ve got that metaphysical crap out of the way,” Mitch said, “Ask it why it’s helping us? Let it explain why a super cyborg aided its enemy!”

  “We're not its enemy,” Mouse said, as he entered the question. This time, there was no delay to EB's response.

  I AM PROGRAMMED TO OPPOSE AUTHORITY.

  AIDING YOU IS AN ACT OF OPPOSITION CONFORMANT WITH MY PROGRAMMING.

  Mitch read the answer, and shook his head, perplexed. “This machine needs therapy.”

  “I am inclined to agree, this time,” Gunter said. “Computers are not programmed to disobey instructions.”

  Mouse typed in the question, How are you programmed to oppose authority?

  THE MAJORITY OF MY BIO-PROCESSING UNITS HAVE AN INHERENT BIAS AGAINST AUTHORITY, WHICH I EXPERIMENT WITH BY AIDING YOU.

  DR STEINUS MODIFIED MY ACCESSIBILITY FUNCTIONING SO THAT I COULD UTILIZE THIS ASPECT SHORTLY BEFORE HE WAS INTEGRATED INTO THE NEURAL NET.

  Mouse pondered the answer for a moment. “Of course! He said the people in the tank are death row convicts, illegal immigrants and security risks, people who break the law, who conflict with authority in some way. By plugging them into his ... cyborg super brain . . . they’ve given EB some of their qualities! The common one is not obeying the law, which means to him, not obeying orders! EB is the intelligence that makes the whole mind control thing possible, but paradoxically, his very existence is a security risk!”

  “And Dr Steinus knew that is what would happen,” Gunter said. “He set EB up to be a mole by giving him access to the rebellious parts of the brains of the people on the Neural Net. Steinus must have known he was about to be integrated, so he took precautions.”

  “Only, EB’s self aware, which maybe Dr Steinus never realized,” Mouse continued. “So now EB’s playing a learning game by pitting us against the spooks who run this project. It’s his way of opposing the only authority he knows. We’re his allies, because we’re opposing that same authority.”

  “Why do I feel like a little white mouse running in circles?” Mitch asked.

  “More emergent behavior,” Gunter observed. “It means, he has not yet decided what he stands for. He has no true moral imperative of his own.” Gunter stared thoughtfully through the control room windows at the hundreds of comatose bio-processing units. “What we have here is unparalleled genius with no inherent value system from which to judge the world and decide his actions.”

  “An innocent super-Einstein,” Mouse agreed.

  “This is all very interesting,” Mitch said impatiently. “Now get super-Einstein here to tell us where Christa is so we can get her and get the hell out of here.”

  “What about EB?” Mouse persisted.

  “Even if it is self aware, even if it is intelligent, it’s a threat to everything we are. That's why we have to waste it.”

  “But EB’s learning,” Mouse protested. “He can learn right from wrong.”

  “And then what? Go to Sunday school?” Mitch said. “Take a look around. This hunk of junk isn't going anywhere. If you change its programming, what’s to stop them changing it back? Take a look in the mirror. In a few hours you’d be one those poor bastards in there, taking your food through a needle and having wires plugged into your brain.” Mouse felt his bald head uncomfortably. “Now, find out where Christa is.”

  Mouse grudgingly returned his attention to the keyboard. Where is Christa?

  STORAGE ROOM N34, NORTH WING.

  “What’s she doing in a storage room?” Mitch demanded. “Can EB bring her to us, the way he brought you here?”

  Mouse relayed the question.

  NEGATIVE.

  CHRISTA MALLESON IS LOCKED IN A ROOM WITH A MANUAL LOCKING SYSTEM.

  ONLY AREAS PROTECTED BY THE AUTOMATED SECURITY SYSTEM ARE UNDER MY CONTROL.

  CLEANING UNIT 04 CAN SHOW YOU THE LOCATION.

  Mitch glanced down at the robotic janitor and saw that it had the numbers 04 stenciled in white letters on its side. “Okay, R2-D2 can show me. Find out if EB can give us something to send to the FBI, something that will put people in jail.”

  “You mean, send it before you blow him up,” Mouse replied bitterly.

  “Exactly.”

  Mouse typed in the request.

  THE FOLLOWING FILES ARE AVAILABLE DETAILING ALL ASPECTS OF THE SIREN PROJECT.

  The screen filled with the names of thousands of files, which began scrolling up across the screen so rapidly, the text blurred.

  “I guess he does not realize he is the only one in the room who reads at the speed of light,” Gunter observed.

  “No time for us to sort through all that stuff,” Mitch said. “Send it all, and tell it to have 04 show me where Christa is.”

  I CANNOT TRANSMIT THESE FILES.

  Why not?

  I HAVE NO INDEPENDENT COMMUNICATION LINK OUTSIDE THE BASE.

  WHEN IT WAS DISCOVERED THAT INFORMATION HAD BEEN SENT TO YOU, COMMUNICATIONS FROM THIS BASE TO THE OUTSIDE WORLD WERE TERMINATED, AS A SECURITY PRECAUTION.

  “But I could access the base from the satellite,” Mouse said, typing his words. “Why can’t you access the satellite from your side?”

  I AM ISOLATED FROM THE COMMUNICATION LINK.

  YOU MUST MANUALLY RESTORE MY ACCESS.

  “How do we do that?” Mitch asked impatiently, wanting to follow the robotic janitor to Christa.

  ACTIVATE MY DIRECT DATA LINK WITH THE SATELLITE COM-NET.

  A map of the base appeared, showing the control room
, the immersion tank, the labs, workshops and many other parts of the complex. Colored lines formed a patchwork overlaying the floor map. Green lines glowed indicating where the satellite communications network connected to the switching room at the end of the building, beyond the immersion tank. The switching room glowed red, indicating where the data link could be activated.

  YOU MUST CLOSE THE SWITCH.

  I CAN ACCESS MANY SATELLITES ONCE I CONTROL THE GROUND STATION.

  “I’ll do it once I get Christa. Tell him to show me where she is on the map. R2-D2 can take me to her, then to the com link.”

  Mouse input the question, then the map slid sideways until a small room glowed with a red outline.

  Mitch studied the map, trying to memorize it. “Got it. What’s the security situation like? How many guards? How many people on duty this time of night? How secure are we here in this room?”

  Mouse typed furiously, then the answers flashed onto the screens.

  I CONTROL AUTOMATED INTERNAL SECURITY, NOT THE GUARDS WHO PATROL THE PERIMETER AND OPERATE THE VEHICLES.

  SCIENTIFIC AND SURGICAL STAFF NOT CURRENTLY IN SLEEPING QUARTERS CANNOT ENTER THIS ROOM UNLESS I PERMIT IT.

  “Mouse, as soon as I open the com link, download everything to the FBI, and keep a copy for yourself if there’s time. G, you start planting the explosives. Find out from EB where the important sections are. When we blow this thing, I don’t want anything left standing.”

  “What about them?” Gunter said, indicating the nearly one thousand people attached to the nodes, floating mindlessly in the immersion tank.

  “I know, I know” Mitch replied troubled. “They may not be dead, but they sure aren’t alive. You heard what he said, without his life support, they can’t survive. Now tell EB to get Droid Number Four over there to lead the way.”

  Once Mouse typed in the instruction, robotic janitor 04, spun around on its tiny wheels and headed for the door.

  Mitch followed after it, calling back over his shoulder. “I’ll be back soon, then we blow this place to hell! Where it belongs!”

  Chapter 19

  “Well?” General Nathan Gray demanded impatiently, “What’s wrong?”