The Siren Project

by Renneberg, Stephen

  Mitch started across a narrow gantry, taking barely a dozen cautious steps before he heard the metal clang of a hatch opening, ahead and to the left. Several soldiers climbed out of the hatch, onto the maintenance platform. They leveled their weapons on him, but held their fire while Mitch made no attempt to unsling his M16. On another platform far off against the eastern wall of the tank room, two more soldiers emerged from a pressure hatch, and took up cross fire positions.

  Finally, McNamara clambered out of the nearer hatch and strolled to the edge of the platform, glancing down at the hundreds of unconscious bio processing units below. His gaze lifted to Mitch, then he said with a sense of self satisfaction, “So, what do you think of our little fish tank?”

  * * * *

  Christa's mind was clearer now. She no longer fought the urge to sleep, and the lack of tell tale presences nearby told her she was safely alone. She slipped out of the white surgical gown and pulled on the clothes her mother had left her. Fully dressed, she pushed the bag to one side and began crawling silently along the enclosed air conditioning duct. Several times she sensed the guards passing nearby, and occasionally she passed outlets into deserted laboratories, but she refrained from climbing out, preferring instead to put distance between herself and the storeroom to the south.

  Christa worked her way north, slowly sensing the presence of others. A highly intelligent mind, a strangely quiescent presence and several others she could not quite register. Her first reaction was to continue on, avoiding contact, but there was something in the quiescent presence that made her curious. She tried focusing on that dilated mind, but it was oddly empty, yet utterly impenetrable at the same time. It was unlike anything she'd ever encountered before. Cautiously, Christa moved closer to the unusual presence to gain a deeper understanding of it.

  She sensed the intelligent presence was agitated, while the quiescent mind retained an emptiness so poised, it scarcely seemed possible it could be a natural state. She edged silently up to the vent, where light flooded back into the shaft from the room beyond. Peering through the grill, she realized it was the recovery room she'd been held in earlier. Mouse was gone, but Dr. Nautern was bent over a bench working on something unseen. Strapped to the angled surgical bed was her mother, lying face down, unconscious.

  Christa knew at once, the oddly quiescent mind was her mother’s. The realization shocked her. She knew the quality of her mother’s mind better than any other, yet never had she sensed the strange emptiness she found there now. Anxiously, she reached out with her perception, finding a strange resistance within that emptiness that blocked all telepathic contact. She realized that somehow, the alien quality of the conditioning was gone from her mother’s mind, but so too was any sign of awareness. Her capacity to respond to the outside world had ceased to exist. Christa was suddenly shaken with fear. Something had fundamentally changed her mother, but she didn't understand what it was.

  Mama? Are you there?

  No comforting response appeared in Christa’s mind, leaving a sinking feeling in her heart. She didn’t know how her mother had managed to circumvent the conditioning, but she had a terrible fear that her mother had taken her place. Why else would she be on the bed Christa had been on only hours before?

  The double doors to the recovery room opened and General Gray entered. “Is she dead yet?”

  Dr Nautern straightened, holding a needle up to the light as he squeezed the syringe, squirting a small amount of liquid from the needle, perfecting the dosage. “I’m about to give her the injection now.”

  General Gray strode over to the table and looked at Caroline’s sleeping face. “Has she shown any sign of life?”

  The doctor approached Caroline with the lethal syringe. Several small white circular sensors were attached to her forehead, searching for mental activity. He nodded towards the screens displaying flat green lines. “No, she’s totally brain dead. Coma victims have more activity than her.”

  The words cut through Christa like a knife, Brain dead!

  “Get it over with. They’ve found Mitchell,” the general said. “I want him treated tonight. And this time, no mistakes.”

  Dr Nautern sighed uncomfortably as he stepped up beside the general and pulled Caroline’s white surgical gown clear of her neck, selecting the spot for the injection. “I’ll give it to her in the neck. It'll go to the brain quickly and . . . finish her.”

  Christa was about to scream No! when a powerful ripple of thought buffeted her like the shockwave of an explosion.

  Alarms sounded in the surgery, as automated systems thought they were detecting a seizure. Dr Nautern hesitated, confused, as he saw the screens monitoring Caroline's mental activity fill with wildly oscillating peaks and troughs. He knew at a glance the readings far exceeded human norms. “That can't be . . .” he whispered, thinking the equipment had malfunctioned.

  In the air conditioning duct, Christa gasped in shock, then tried to focus her mind, to understand what had happened. The emptiness that had pervaded her mother's mind had vanished. The invisible resistance that had masked the truth, even from the monitoring machines, had also been swept aside. In its place, a dynamic potency radiated with such a blazing intensity, that Christa had to look away. It had been like staring into the sun, blinding her with its radiant power.

  Caroline opened her eyes. “Hello Doctor,” she said softly, “I'm not brain dead.”

  She drove an irresistible impulse into Dr Nautern’s mind, then the Chief Surgeon turned like a puppet on a string and stabbed the needle into the general's neck, forcing the poison into his blood stream. The general groaned, stepping back shocked, as he pulled the needle from his neck with an astonished look.

  “What have you . . .?” The general didn't have time to finish his question. His eyes unfocused as his knees buckled and he slid to the floor. Soon, his breathing became erratic as the poison took hold.

  Dr Nautern blinked, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. “General?” he stammered.

  General Nathan Gray convulsed. His eyes rolled back into his head as his body gave one last involuntary shudder and slumped lifeless at the doctor's feet.

  The Chief Surgeon turned to face Caroline, disbelief on his face. “You . . .?” He touched his forehead, remembering the irresistible thought that had so completely overpowered him. “You did that!” His eyes widened with fear as he backed away under her withering gaze. “That was . . . Impossible!” He turned and started to run for the door.

  Caroline projected another commanding thought and the doctor's legs buckled, refusing to obey him. He tripped, striking his head on the bench on the way down. He fell motionless to the floor, unconscious from the blow to his head, and paralyzed by Caroline’s strike to his mind.

  Mama! Christa thought, shocked by the immense power radiating from her mother.

  I’m here, Caroline responded with a thought of pure clarity.

  Christa pushed the vent open, then scrambled into the recovery room and released the straps restraining her mother. Caroline sat up and hugged her daughter with a warmth she'd not felt since her first conditioning.

  Christa pulled back to study her mother. “What’s happened?”

  “I have an implanted memory that tells me, someone called EB reversed the conditioning and . . . unlocked the full potential of my mind. He's given me access to abilities I never thought possible.” Caroline’s face glowed with wonder. “Christa, you have no idea the clarity I have. It’s like a light has come on in my mind.” She smiled. “It’s a miracle!”

  “What you did . . . ,” she glanced toward the dead general and the unconscious Chief Surgeon, “That was . . . super human.”

  Caroline’s face sobered as she became aware of every aspect of their environment. “There are others coming.”

  Christa focused her mind, searching for the presences her mother had detected. “Are you sure? I don’t sense anyone.”

  Caroline looked into her daughter's eyes as she shared her sense o
f the surroundings with her daughter’s mind. Christa gasped, seeing people scattered far across the base, sensing their thoughts, seeing the world around them through her mother’s perception. Caroline gently focused Christa’s wide angle view on an approaching squad of guards. They were still far away, but Caroline effortlessly reached into their minds and sensed their destination.

  “Mama, I had no idea it could be like this!”

  “That makes two of us! It’s going to take some getting used to,” She replied, still trying to understand the radical transformation EB had wrought upon her. “We should go.”

  Christa helped her mother off the table, then hurried through the double doors into the corridor. “How do we get out of here?”

  “That way,” Her mother replied, pointing to the north. Christa started to move in that direction, but Caroline put a restraining hand on her arm as she sensed the southern part of the base.

  Caroline gasped. “My God!”

  “What is it?”

  “Imprisoned minds, hundreds of them! Trapped in a void!” Caroline’s face showed a profound sadness. “I never knew! They never let me down there.”

  Christa tried to sense what her mother was perceiving, but this time she didn't share her perceptions with her daughter. She knew whatever her mother had detected was beyond the reach of her talents.

  “Your friends are down there,” Caroline said, facing south. “They’re in trouble.”

  “Then that’s the way we go,” Christa said, starting down the long corridor toward the immersion tank.

  * * * *

  Gunter opened the door to the left of the control center, immediately feeling a cool rush of air flow over him from the temperature controlled environment beyond. The room adjoining the tank control room was lined with nondescript gray metal cabinets, containing a complex electronic system. The closest cabinet was neatly imprinted with the name Neural Net Relay 1A confirming his suspicion that this was EB's hardware core.

  He wasted no time in placing plastic explosives on each relay cabinet and linking the explosives by detonation wire, while a small robotic janitor, permanently stationed in the Neural Net Relay Room, moved slowly out from behind a cabinet to see what he was doing. When he backed out into the control room, laying wire as he went, the small robot whirred forward, using its optic sensor to examine the plastic explosives and connecting detonation wires.

  Gunter fed wire out all the way across to the control console until he noticed Mouse staring at the different screens with a puzzled look. “What is it?”

  Mouse looked up, hardly realizing Gunter had returned to the control room. “I don’t know. EB’s pumping a lot of data onto the satellite. It looks like it’s going straight to the FBI,” he replied, indicating the screen that flashed with the word, ‘UPLOADING’ followed by a constantly changing series of file names. He leaned across to another screen confused. “But this looks like he’s also downloading data. Lots of data!”

  Gunter removed the detonator from his backpack, then swore softly under his breath.

  “What?” Mouse asked without looking up, clearly distracted.

  “The timer has shorted out on the detonator. The energy weapon in the desert must have caught it when we came in.” Gunter threw the useless device onto the control console. “I am not sure I can blow this thing, without blowing us up with it.”

  “Uh huh,” Mouse acknowledged, then typed in, What are you downloading? A moment later, a third screen displayed EB’s response.

  ANALYZING DATA FROM ALL SOURCES REGARDING REFERENCE: BIBLE.

  Mouse furrowed his brow. “Ahh G . . . do you think it’s possible for a cyborg super computer to be . . . born again?”

  Gunter looked up and read EB’s response. “I do not know, but you gave it the idea.”

  Mouse typed, Why?

  TO UNDERSTAND RIGHT AND WRONG.

  ARE THERE FURTHER REFERENCES?

  Gunter took a screwdriver from his bag and unscrewed a panel behind one of the control console’s work stations. “Is that download slowing the transmission to the FBI?”

  Mouse checked the upload screen. “Doesn’t look like it. The data pipeline still has plenty of capacity.” The screens began to flash insistently with a new message.

  FURTHER REFERENCES ARE REQUIRED.

  “He wants more input,” Mouse reported.

  Gunter studied the complex mix of wires and circuit boards, searching for the main power supply. “A pity we have no time to experiment with EB.”

  “What kind of experiment?”

  Gunter looked up from the electronics panel. “EB seems to be a self aware intelligence with no value system. It would be interesting to see how he would function, or even if he were capable of functioning, with a value system. Give him a list of the main texts from the world religions.”

  Mouse squirmed. “And they are?”

  “Troglodyte. He has the Bible, so I guess give him the Koran, the Talmud, the Vedas, The Teaching of Buddha, and the Bhagavad Gita.”

  Mouse typed in the first couple of references. “Isn’t this going to confuse him, all these different religions?”

  “Strip away the cultural differences, and they are not that different to each other.”

  “I doubt religious fanatics would agree.”

  “Are not all fanatics the same, no matter what religion they're from? Extreme? Intolerant? Hate everyone but themselves?” Gunter moved a panel and probed deeper into the electronics system. “Do you think you could get EB to direct a small electrical charge down a wire if I splice him into the explosives?”

  Mouse looked over the top of his workstation at Gunter, seated on the floor on the other side of the control console. “Are you crazy? Do you think EB is going to help us, by killing himself?”

  “Is he technically alive? Perhaps you should tell him it is something else, because if we cannot find a way to time the detonation, one of us has to stay behind. Are you volunteering?”

  Mouse sat down again clearly in no mind to volunteer, then noticed the screens and whistled. “Wow, the data pipeline is filling fast. He’s sucking in information from all around the world.”

  INPUT ADDITIONAL REFERENCES.

  “Is he just collecting data, or reading it?”

  “You saw what he said, he’s analyzing it!” Mouse told EB to search on keywords: Christ, Buddha, human rights and the democratic constitutions of half a dozen countries. “Oh crap, that's done it,” he muttered to himself as EB's download tripled in size. “The pipeline's full. The upload is shrinking to make room for the download.”

  “Then stop encouraging him,” Gunter said, hearing the whirring of a small motor behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see a robotic janitor following the detonation wire from the Relay Room. He wondered what EB was making of the demolition charges he was rigging. “Tell him, no more until he finishes sending the project’s records to the FBI. Do we know what he is sending them?”

  “I asked for the money trail first, then anything to do with congress, the military, and defense contractors. And finally,” Mouse said, indicating the people attached to the immersion tank’s neural nodes, “A list of who they are, where they came from, and who put them there. All for Special Agent Lamar’s eyes only”

  “That should do it.” Gunter replied, returning to his study of the wiring underneath the work stations as the volume of data bouncing off the satellite to the FBI ceased.

  UPLOAD COMPLETE.

  “Did we get a copy?” Gunter asked, selecting a wire to cut.

  “Sure did. It’s sitting in the National Bank of Venezuela’s central computer, where no one will ever find it, except me.”

  Gunter lifted his pliers to cut a wire when a telescoping arm reached past him. The robotic janitor’s claw clamped onto the pliers, preventing him from cutting the wire. The download stopped as the screens in front of Mouse went blank and the lights in the control room went out.

  “What happened?” Gunter asked surprised, blinking to
adjust his eyes to the gloomy light seeping in from the immersion tank.

  “I didn’t do anything!” Mouse declared as he typed a query, receiving no response. He jumped out of his seat to another workstation and tried contacting EB. “He’s not responding.”

  Gunter glanced at the robotic janitor, frozen behind him. “Looks like he figured out we were going to terminate him.” He released the pliers, now firmly gripped by the immobile robot, and stood up. The humming from the Neural Net Relay Room began to fade away. “That is odd.” He hurried back to the entrance to the room, as one by one, the lights of each relay blinked out. “It is a system wide shut down. Is there any way EB could be shutdown remotely?”

  “Maybe a backdoor?” Mouse said, seating himself and beginning to type requests to EB.

  Gunter watched the Neural Net relays switch off, one by one. “A dozen left!”

  Mouse continued typing messages on the lifeless keyboard. “I’m getting no response at all.”

  “He knows we are going to blow him up, so he cut the power to stop me detonating the explosives!”

  An image of Mitch appeared on the screens arrayed in front of Mouse, and on the large screen on the wall behind. The camera was below the surface, shooting up, and even though the image was distorted by surface ripples, it was apparent he stood on a narrow walkway at the top of the immersion tank. Once Mouse realized what he was seeing, he ran to the window and looked up, spotting Mitch far above, cornered by McNamara’s security team.

  Gunter saw that less than ten of the Neural Net Relay ‘online’ lights still glowed, but those last ten stayed lit, giving EB a tiny fraction of his cognitive ability. It was enough. After a few seconds, all of the relay lights flashed back on in rapid succession, restoring EB to full capacity.