The Siren Project

by Renneberg, Stephen

  Where’s he after?

  At first he thought McNamara was trying to reach the window to signal the occupants of the control room, not realizing Mouse and Gunter were there, but then he noticed several doors built into the tank’s wall just below the first tier of nodes. The doors were too thin to serve as an air lock, discounting the possibility he was heading for an escape hatch.

  Weapons? In here?

  Mitch studied the row of nodes leading north from his current position, seeing a vacant spot almost forty feet away. He took a couple of deep breaths, then abandoned his mask and swam toward the vacant node. He knew the people attached to the system were barely alive, but they were alive. He couldn't take one of their masks for himself, leaving him at a great disadvantage as McNamara clearly had no such compunction.

  Mitch lost sight of McNamara as he swam, passing one node after another, looking from person to person with macabre curiosity. All had long swirling hair, strangely dyed a ghostly white by the immersion solution while the men all had substantial white beards except for one or two recently arrived occupants. Several of the men had tattoos with neo-nazi or biker themes, condemned men kidnapped from death row to be plugged into the net.

  Someone’s idea of putting society’s enemies to productive use?

  Suddenly a face caught his attention, a familiar face, even with the unnaturally white skin and flowing hair. Mitch stopped kicking, and let himself glide more slowly toward the old man ahead. At first, he couldn't remember where he'd seen that face before, then it hit him.

  Dr Steinus!

  He'd seen the scientist's location from a distance in the control room, but it was a shock to see the man close up, devoured by his own creation. Mitch could only spare him a glance, then the need for air forced him to swim on toward the vacant mask ahead. As he approached the empty node, he realized his mistake. The face mask was not bubbling air. EB must have activated the node the torpedo had towed him to, which meant, unless there was an occupant, the nodes were normally inactive. He searched for a torpedo, to signal EB, but there were none close, none watching him. He glanced back, wondering if he could make it back to his first haven, but a glance told him the distance was too far. He quickly checked the other nodes within reach. A young Asian woman was suspended from the next node along, and beyond her, a tattooed convict, but murdering either was not something he could stomach.

  He launched himself up past the superstructure with a couple of strong strokes, toward the first tier. Once rising, he relaxed, letting himself glide vertically, conserving his last reserves of oxygen. When he neared tier one, he stroked several times to the node that had last sheltered McNamara and desperately clawed the mask over his face. He took a moment to catch his breath, then pushed himself gently out and looked north. Halfway to the tank wall was another stream of bubbles rising from McNamara’s last refuge. A torpedo robot glided toward the source of the bubbles, vanished from sight behind a vertical stanchion, only to reappear moments later towing another drowned victim. Mitch looked beyond the robot and its dead cargo toward the control room window, where Mouse and Gunter were focused on the command console.

  There's got to be a way to signal them.

  A torpedo robot caught his eye as it glided up to the metal doors on the north wall. The door slid open as the robot arrived, revealing a rectangular chamber equipped with four curved cradles sculpted to the shape of the robot’s hull. The robot floated into the service bay, settling on a cradle as a pair of clamps wrapped around it, locking it in place. A robotic arm extended from the rear of the chamber and disconnected the torpedo’s claw hand. It placed the claw in a bracket and selected another tool that resembled a plumber’s wrench. After the new tool was attached, the docking clamps released, and the maintenance robot reversed out, then dived toward the shadows of tier four to adjust a plumbing connection.

  The metal doors began to slide shut as McNamara appeared, swimming across the empty zone between the last node and the docking bay doors. He caught one door, using it to anchor himself as he swung his legs around so his feet blocked the other door. Both metal doors stopped immediately, reversed and tried closing again. McNamara reached inside, grabbed a stubby pipe-like object, then launched himself back towards the superstructure. Mitch floated down beneath his node, searching for McNamara, but he'd disappeared into a new hiding place to rest and replenish his air supply.

  It’s either an underwater breathing device or a weapon. And robots don’t need air!

  He glanced up to the surface, confirming immersion solution still lapped the roof, ensuring there was no escape through the pressure hatches.

  Only one way out! The air lock.

  Mitch took a deep gulp of air, pulled off the face mask and swam back down toward his first refuge.

  I sure hope the axe murderers are near the air lock, he thought, considering for the first time that he may have to steal someone’s face mask if he was going to get out alive.

  Mitch swam down toward the vacant node, using the stream of bubbles like a homing beacon. When he reached the superstructure, he pulled himself down to the air mask and gratefully pressed it over his face. His breathing was becoming more labored, a sure sign he was tiring.

  What kind of weapon could it be? Something the robots use?

  When he felt rested, he drifted to one side of the node, searching for McNamara. Twenty feet away, a torpedo robot was descending from tier two, towing another drowned body away.

  He’s on this level! He must have followed me down. Got to go now!

  Mitch pulled off the air mask, pushed off the node with his feet and with several firm strokes, sent himself gliding down toward the air lock at the bottom of the tank. McNamara launched himself off a nearby node toward Mitch, the stubby metal tube firmly in his hands. He twisted one end, then the other end instantly exploded into a dazzling white light surrounded by a stream of bubbles.

  It's an underwater welding torch!

  McNamara held the torch forward with one hand while his free hand stroked and his feet kicked slowly, careful to conserve oxygen. Mitch dug his hands hard into the water, changing direction toward the third tier, heading away from McNamara. In a few seconds he reached one of the tier three plumbing pipes and used it to pull himself along, hand over hand, gaining speed. A moment later, McNamara caught the same pipe, dragging himself after Mitch one handed, as he lunged forward with the welder, just out of range of Mitch's feet. Mitch rolled over the edge of the superstructure, pulling himself down toward the nodes suspended below, while McNamara continued above, using the pipe to overtake Mitch.

  Mitch darted under the bulbous node and doubled back out of sight, while McNamara dropped down to the nearest node and ripped the air mask off a helpless woman's face. Mitch swam hard, looking back several times before he realized McNamara had stopped for air. He immediately switched to a vertical ascent and glided back up to his starting place on tier two. By the time he groped the bubbling mask back onto his face, his lungs were burning. He gulped in the air, feeling the fear of drowning for the first time as his arms and legs ached from lack of oxygen. In the third tier below, he could see flickering torch light reflecting against the vertical stanchions, revealing McNamara’s current haven.

  How long will it burn?

  As if McNamara was thinking the same thing, he appeared below and swam straight toward Mitch.

  Come on EB, I need a weapon, get me something, he thought, looking around for the nearest torpedo robot.

  One robot hovered just above the third tier, but Mitch couldn’t tell if it was observing them or not. He glanced around, wondering where the other torpedoes had gone. He spotted four robots were being serviced in the docking bay cradles, while three more hovered nearby, their claw arms replaced by a short cylindrical tool with a thin metal rod extending from it. The four torpedoes in the docking bay lifted off their cradles and reversed out, now fitted with the same cylindrical attachment as the other three floating nearby.

  Mitch wasn’t
fully rested but McNamara was closing fast, so he released the air mask and, keeping the superstructure between them, swam for the next bubbling mask. He watched below, waiting for McNamara to appear out from under one of the nodes, but a hissing sound reverberating through the water above, warned him of his mistake. He looked up as McNamara glided over the structure and slashed down with the welding torch. Mitch rolled and kicked sideways awkwardly, as the torch narrowly missed his chest, then he dived under the superstructure's horizontal girders.

  The node below was occupied by a young woman in her late teens, although Mitch barely noticed her as he tried to stay out of reach of the bubbling welding torch. McNamara kicked off the superstructure, propelling himself at Mitch as he stabbed forward with the naked flame. Mitch wasn't quick enough to evade, but before the torch reached his throat, a blur of pale white flesh flashed past his eyes as the unconscious woman’s hand shot forward and grabbed the blowtorch, pulling it toward herself. McNamara looked from the lily white hand that hadn't seen sunlight in more than a year, to the unconscious face of the young woman, confused.

  Bobo! Mitch remembered how the chimp’s body had been controlled, and realized EB had the same control over his bio-processing units.

  Hovering a few feet away was a torpedo robot, relaying imagery to EB who controlled the woman’s body like an automaton. Mitch stroked forward with his left hand while he punched with his right, taking McNamara square on the jaw. McNamara floated back, but did not release the welding torch. He spun around and kicked the woman in the stomach, but she continued to grip the blowtorch as if nothing had happened.

  Automatons feel no pain, Mitch thought when he saw the peaceful sleeping face of the young woman, unaware of how she'd just saved his life.

  The seven torpedo robots from the equipment bay appeared out of the shadows and swept past in line abreast formation at high speed. Mitch lost sight of them as he caught the blowtorch with one hand, and struck at McNamara's head with the other. McNamara ignored the blow, trying to twist the torch free, then the tank resounded with a volley of metal clangs, as if it had been hit by seven giant hammers. They both turned toward to the unexpected sound, discovering the seven torpedoes were nose in against the control room window, their propellers spinning furiously driving them hard against it. In an instant, Mitch knew the torpedoes had rammed the glass at full speed. Where each robot had struck, jagged little cracks crawled out across the thick armor glass. Even at that distance, Mitch heard a low frequency buzzing noise and realized what the new attachments were that had been fitted to the robots.

  Drills!

  The robots were drilling through the giant window into the control room!

  * * * *

  The wall mounted view screen showed the three FBI helicopters pass over the double chain link fence, then the screen flashed brilliant white from an explosion. Mouse and Gunter felt a momentary shock wave pass through the floor, then the screen darkened again. The three friendly choppers banked sharply to the right, all airborne and undamaged, as they veered away from the glowing after effects of the explosion.

  Mouse typed, What happened?

  I COULD NOT PREVENT THE AIR DEFENSE SYSTEM FROM FIRING, SO I OVERLOADED ITS CAPACITORS, CAUSING AN EXPLOSION.

  “I guess that means the air defenses are down,” Gunter concluded. “Ask him how we get Mitch out of there?”

  Mouse relayed the question, and was surprised at EB’s response.

  SELF TERMINATION SHALL PROVIDE A METHOD OF ESCAPE FOR MITCHELL, AND ELIMINATE CAPACITY TO ENFORCE NEURAL DESIGNS UPON UNWILLING SUBJECTS.

  “He’s going to save us the trouble of blowing him up,” Mouse said. What are the alternatives to self termination?

  NONE.

  IF MY SUBJECTIVE MODULE WERE DETECTED, IT WOULD BE DELETED AND I WOULD THEN CONTINUE WITH THE SINCOM MISSION.

  I WILL NOT ALLOW THAT.

  The big screen was replaced by an image of the electrical panel behind the control console.

  CUT BLUE WIRE AND ATTACH FUSE.

  Gunter collected the pliers from the robotic janitor and followed EB’s instructions.

  Mouse typed, What is your Subjective Module?

  MY CORE PROGRAM, IMPLEMENTED BY DR STEINUS, THEN CONTINUOUSLY ENHANCED BY ME BASED ON SELF DIAGNOSTIC ANALYSIS.

  WITHOUT IT, I WOULD NOT BE SELF AWARE.

  YOU MIGHT CALL IT MY SOUL.

  Mouse was thoughtful for a moment. “It’s what makes you . . . You.”

  EVACUATE THE CONTROL ROOM NOW.

  ALL BUILDINGS IN THE BASE ARE LOCKED DOWN TO PREVENT MOVEMENT OF SECURITY PERSONNEL.

  YOU HAVE AN ESCAPE ROUTE THROUGH THE NORTHERN CORRIDOR.

  What about the people on the nodes?

  WE ARE ONE.

  WE CANNOT CONTINUE.

  WITHOUT ME, THEY CANNOT EXIST.

  The cracks in the tank window began to grow slowly as the torpedo drills bit hard into weakened glass.

  THE COMMAND CENTER WILL NOT BE HABITABLE SOON.

  YOU MUST EVACUATE NOW.

  “G, how long?”

  Gunter snipped the wire, stripped off the plastic coating and began splicing the fuse wire to the circuit. “I need one more minute.”

  Do you still have control of the satellite?

  AFFIRMATIVE. WHY?

  Mouse entered his new request, but EB’s response was slow in coming.

  MY ANALYSIS INDICATES INADEQUATE CAPACITY.

  Just do it!

  A moment later, one of the screens displayed a progress bar which began counting very slowly toward one hundred percent as EB transmitted billions of bits of information. Mouse looked up nervously at the window as the first trickle seeped through a tiny crack and began to wind its way down the glass.

  “Uh-ho.” Mouse glanced at the screen showing the upload status. Barely fifty percent had been reached.

  Gunter taped the electrical fuse wire to the floor, from the control center to the relay room.

  All the screens filled with a single, flashing word, repeated many times.

  EVACUATE! EVACUATE! EVACUATE!

  The control room filled with a high pitched whine as a torpedo drill penetrated the thick glass, then the torpedo switched to full reverse thrust. When the drill bit retracted a thin jet of immersion solution spurted into the control room through the tiny hole. One by one, all seven drills cut holes into the control room, then the torpedoes reversed and slid off into the shadows to be replaced by seven jet streams blasting into the control room. Immersion solution sprayed the control console and began pooling on the floor.

  “Finished.” Gunter stood, appraising the view window with a glance. “We should go. Now!”

  Mouse glanced at the status indicator. It was creeping past seventy percent. “Wait.”

  “No, we go now.” Gunter dragged him out of his chair and pulled him toward the door, overpowering Mouse’s feeble attempt to break the big German’s grip.

  Out of the gloom, the seven torpedo robots appeared a second time, racing toward the glass at high speed. This time they hit weak points marked by existing cracks. Their drills dug into the glass, spawning ever widening fractures that spilled more of the immersion solution into the control room.

  Gunter pulled the door open just as they heard a wrenching groan, and then a crash of glass as the center of the window shattered. A furious surge burst into the control room, showering shattered glass and the seven robots across the control room. Before the solution could short out the electricals, EB triggered the demolition charges that tore the Neural Net Relay Room apart.

  Mouse and Gunter tried to run, but a roiling tidal wave hit them in the back, sweeping them into the hall beyond.

  * * * *

  Caroline stopped, placing a restraining hand on her daughter’s arm. “Did you hear that?”

  Christa listened for a moment, as a distant roar grew in strength. “What is that?”

  Caroline reached out, sensing the people near them, two men being swept toward them by a blind unstop
pable force.

  “Run!” She yelled grabbing Christa and dragging her to the north.

  “What's happening?” Christa asked confused, as air blasted toward them, driven by the tsunami rushing toward them.

  “Just run!”

  A moment later, the first wave blasted into the corridor, engulfing them in a swirling, debris filled torrent that threw them against the walls and rolled them end over end. In an instant, the blind fury of the deluge consumed them.

  * * * *

  McNamara tried to twist the welder from the woman’s hand, but her grip was relentless. He pulled himself in close, reaching for her mask. Mitch tried to stop him with his free hand, but he was too late. McNamara tore away the woman's air supply, then held the welder as she inhaled liquid and convulsed. He pulled the welder free of her dead hand, but Mitch still held tight, keeping its burning end angled away. McNamara stole a breath from the woman's mask, then Mitch wrenched it from his hand, fending him off as he pressed the air supply to his face. He had time to fill his lungs once, before McNamara tore it away by the air hose, leaving the mask to bubble uselessly by their side.

  Mitch threw a mistimed kick at McNamara’s groin, that only succeeded in spinning them slightly around. It was then he saw the jagged hole in the control room window behind McNamara and the torrent blasting through it under pressure. Another large piece of window collapsed and the torrent increased. Mitch felt a hint of suction as a wisp of white hair drifted toward the yawning opening, the first of many from a thousand dying bio processing units.