Kyle turned back to inputting the new code into Paul. He was trying to get Paul to use a computerized voice and respond to questions in a more natural way. Kyle programed Paul to use the voice of his favorite actor, Penner West, who starred in a series of action mystery films. He had been working on the new voice for Paul for weeks already, but getting the predictive algorithms right was much more important. Now that the algorithms seemed to be working well, Kyle picked up the fun side project again.
Finally, Kyle read through all of the new code one more time and entered it into Paul’s core code. “Here goes nothing,” he said, feeling his stomach knot up as it always did before any new program was being tested. Numbers flashed across the screen, and finally the text “Code Accepted. Error=0” appeared in a dialog box. Kyle smiled and contemplated the first question he would ask Paul to respond to with his new voice.
“Okay Paul, let’s try this out. What is your name?”
“My name is Predictive Algorithm for Unified Latency, or Paul.” The voice of Penner West came through the speaker, giving Kyle a jolt of excitement. The speech was a lot smoother than Kyle had anticipated, hardly sounding like a computer program at all. One of the other students in the Academy had developed the new vocalization software that Kyle was borrowing for Paul.
“That’s amazing! You sound almost human.”
“Thanks, Kyle,” Paul responded. The software seemed to be working well, making Paul sound almost human and giving him the ability to have conversations. What’s more, by using his self-learning software, Paul could teach himself more and more about how to communicate.
Kyle was overjoyed, and asked Paul a series of questions. Paul responded perfectly, and even shot back with jokes. It seemed like he was forming a snarky personality of his own. But all the while, Kyle didn’t forget what Paul’s main function was. There was one prediction that Paul had made that was worrying Kyle more than anything. He had to ask Paul about it again.
“Paul, I asked you before what would happen at the intervarsity championships, and you told me that there would be an accident involving Marshall de Villiers. Have you changed your prediction about this?”
Paul hesitated for a few seconds, and responded with a defeated voice: “I know how you feel about Mr. de Villiers. I’ve seen how you act when you talk about him, and I saw your reaction when I told you my prediction. Sadly, based on all of the variables, the prediction still stands.”
Kyle shook his head, narrowing his eyes on the screen in front of him. “What are the variables I should know about? Maybe I can change something? Save him somehow?”
“There are 168,341 pages of relevant data. Would you like me to print them or display them?”
Kyle felt his face sink into a forlorn frown. Paul was working with so many variables that it would be almost impossible to pinpoint the exact reason why any particular event was predicted. Paul was too smart for Kyle to even understand. If he tried to read through all of the data, he would be reading long after the final match was played. “Don’t worry about it, Paul. I’ll just have to find a way to convince Marshall to drop out of the match. And if I can’t find a way to convince him, I’ll need to stop him some other way, or get the match called off. I can’t stand around and let him get hurt. I can’t let him do something that will lead to him being injured. I care about him too much to let that happen.”
Kyle’s mind flashed back to the kiss he shared with Marshall on the rooftop, that second when every fiber of his body was set alight, when everything felt absolutely confusing but perfectly right at the same time. He knew that he had to do something – anything – to make sure that Marshall would be okay. Even if Marshall had explicitly told him to stay out of it. Maybe Paul could still give him some help…
“Paul, can you tell me the best way for me to get Marshall to drop out of the match? Or some way that I can prevent him from getting hurt?” Kyle’s voice was soft and the desperation was clear in every word.
Paul responded: “I’ll need eight minutes to run the calculations. Confirm?”
“Confirm,” Kyle said, and Paul’s interface sprang into action running a series of calculations. Kyle sat back in the chair, feeling the muscles of his back tight with tension and a slight headache developing between his eyes. What use was all of the science in the world if he couldn’t help the person that he cared about so much?
Kyle stood up from the chair and walked towards the entrance of the lab to get some coffee, hearing the low murmur of all of Paul’s processors working in unison to do the complex calculations. The rows and rows of giant black processors used to look intimidating to Kyle, like he was looking at something that he would never be able to tame. But now, it looked like a heart, like something that kept Paul going. Kyle smiled in the direction of the processors as he moved towards the door.
And suddenly, in an instant that made his heart stand still, Kyle was surrounded by darkness.
The lights in the lab all went off at the same time, and Kyle spun around immediately to see that the monitors on his desk had also gone black. Kyle hardly knew if his eyes were closed or open, the darkness was so consuming. He tried to use his spatial memory to move towards the entrance, stretching his hands in front of him to feel for the wall. He called out: “Hello? Is someone else still in here? What’s going on?” But there was no response. Eventually, Kyle felt the wall in front of him and found his way towards the door. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness and he could see that the lights for the backup generators were also not shining. There was no power coming to the lab at all, and for some reason, the generators were turned off. Kyle knew that it was impossible to back up all of the information in Paul, even though Paul was constantly uploading data to all corners of the internet in case of emergencies. He just hoped that Paul would still be able to recover after the unexpected loss of power.
Just as Kyle stepped out of the door, the lights came back on. Kyle could hear the sounds of Paul’s processors restarting. He turned to see that the lights for the backup generators were finally shining, and rushed back to the desk to see Paul’s interface rebooting. He was sweating with fear, worried that months of his work might have been lost. Finally, Paul’s interface was loaded and the login box appeared, asking for Kyle’s username and password. Kyle input the details with shaking fingers, and pressed the enter key, but instead of logging him on, an error message appeared: Unknown username or incorrect password.
Kyle tried the details again, convinced that he had simply typed them incorrectly because of his shaking fingers, but the same error message flashed onto the screen. What was happening? Kyle felt his heart beating furiously and beads of sweat were forming on his brow. He was ready to go into a full blown panic. He continued to try the username and password, but nothing was working. Kyle quickly picked up his phone and tried to call Prof. Greer, desperate to know if the professor knew something about the mysterious power outage or why Kyle couldn’t log onto Paul. The phone rang for a long time before the busy tone finally came through the speaker. When Kyle tried calling again, the busy tone came immediately. “Why is his phone off?” Kyle said aloud, now pacing around the room. Paul’s processors were buzzing, and Paul was clearly still processing some kind of calculation. But who was the one giving Paul instructions?
Kyle rushed out of the room, determined to speak to Prof. Greer as soon as possible.
Chapter 15
Marshall sat in the small conference room at the lodge where the rugby team were staying while they practiced for the big match. Coach Barker always took them away together before a final match of the intervarsity tournament, and they would do many team building exercises between their grueling hours of practice. This time, Marshall had put all of that in jeopardy by reacting so violently to Quinton’s provocations.
Marshall felt numb, his face completely drained of color. He just wanted to escape. He couldn’t believe that he actually punched Quinton. But it was just too much. Seeing Quinton reading his private writin
gs, making fun of his dreams, cut Marshall to the core. And seeing the other guys all laughing along as if it were some big joke was too much to handle. All Marshall could think at the time was how much he wanted to retaliate. But now, he might’ve put his entire rugby career at risk. No professional team would want anything to do with someone who was kicked off of his team for violence. Marshall knew the rules very clearly – one strike and you’re out. He imagined his father’s face when he got the news, the disappointment that was sure to come. He saw the death of a dream so clearly. But Marshall was still conflicted. Deep down, he felt almost relieved. Like a big weight had been lifted. He loved rugby, but the pressure of pleasing everyone else was just becoming too much. He couldn’t be their champion anymore. He just needed to be himself.
One thought that flitted through Marshall’s mind was the silly things that Kyle had said to him. Kyle had tried to convince Marshall that he would be injured during the match. How could anyone possibly know that? It must’ve been some sort of trick – a game Kyle was playing with him. But Marshall couldn’t figure out Kyle’s agenda. Why would he even try to manipulate Marshall into dropping out of the match? Marshall had wanted Kyle to be someone he could trust and be honest with, something neither his father nor his best friend could offer, but Kyle couldn’t even support him when Marshall told him about wanting to perform his own music. Marshall had never felt so misunderstood before. What’s worse, he would have to face Coach Barker’s reproachful look when he walked through the door.
The door opened behind Marshall and Coach Barker slinked across the room to sit down on a chair across from Marshall. The lodge had a swimming pool in the courtyard, and Marshall could hear the other guys laughing in the pool when Coach opened the door. Marshall sighed and hung his head.
Coach Barker spoke in his raspy, deep voice: “I’m just confused, Marshall. I don’t understand why you would do something like this. Is there something going on with you?”
Marshall just shook his head, avoiding Coach Barker’s eyes. He whispered: “I’m sorry, Coach.”
Coach Barker’s tone changed suddenly, frustration rising in his voice: “Dammit, Marshall, you need to give me a good reason not to drop you from the team right now! I’m trying to help you here. You know I’ve been on your side. You know you’re the best captain we’ve had in years! But you decide to throw it all away because another guy is taunting you? Was it really worth it? If this is the way you conduct yourself, I don’t know if you have it in you to be a professional rugby player.”
Marshall felt the words cut deep. He lashed back: “Maybe I don’t want to be a professional rugby player, Coach! Maybe it’s a good thing if you cut me from the team. I can’t be this person anymore.” Marshall ended the outburst with a note of sadness, and he could feel that tears were not far away.
Coach Barker’s eyes were wide. He seemed to notice the change in Marshall, and his voice softened again as he said: “What do you mean, Marshall? Have I been putting too much pressure on you? What really happened on that bus? I know it wasn’t just because Quinton took a book away from you.”
Marshall weighed his options. He felt like he had nothing to lose anymore. Coach Barker relied on Marshall to be a motivation for the team, but even though Coach added to the pressure in his life, Marshall respected the man greatly. If anyone could understand the pressures of a budding career in rugby, Coach Barker could. Marshall looked straight into Coach’s eyes, determined to speak honestly, and said: “No one seems to understand me, Coach. Not you. Not my father. Not my friends. Not even… I just want to live my own life for a change. I don’t want to have to keep working and fighting and grinding for something that I’m not even sure I really want. I don’t want to keep pleasing everyone else when I haven’t even figured out who I am yet.”
“What are you talking about, Marshall? Don’t you want to play rugby anymore?” Coach Barker seemed almost hurt as he said the words.
“I don’t know. I want to play rugby. I love it. But I want other things too. I feel like no one allows me to be anything except what they already think I am. No one wants me to make any choices that they don’t approve of.”
Coach Barker stood up and walked over to Marshall, putting his hand on his shoulder. Marshall felt emotion stir up inside of him. He was being pushed over the edge. Coach said: “You are my most valuable player. You have so much potential. I want you to play in the finals. I don’t want you to make a decision now that might cost you a brilliant career. But Quinton is already threatening to take this to the university’s disciplinary committee. He’s not willing to accept you getting away without punishment. I need to make it seem like I’m not playing favorites. But the only way that can happen is if you go and apologize to Quinton. I’d like us to resolve this here, today.”
“I can’t do that, Coach. I am sorry that I hit him, but you know how Quinton feels about me. Asking me to apologize is just a way to torment me more. Maybe I should just sit out the finals. Maybe it’s better if I just take a break for a while.”
Coach Barker curled his lip and narrowed his eyes. He didn’t respond for a long time, and Marshall was too afraid to look him in the eye, to see what was lurking beneath. Finally, without another word, Coach Barker simply walked out of the door, leaving Marshall in silence again. Marshall felt completely broken as he sat in the quiet of the conference room. Even though he knew it was the right thing to do, something inside of him wouldn’t allow him to apologize to Quinton. He had to stand his ground.
Marshall heard a rattle at the door behind him, and expecting to see Coach Barker again, he felt his stomach tighten in a knot, but he turned around to see Reinhardt sneaking into the conference room.
“What are you doing here?” Marshall asked, his eyes wide. “Did Coach send you in?”
“Shhhh,” Reinhardt whispered. “He doesn’t know I’m here. I just saw him walk out of the room and he’s on the phone now. He sounds really mad. What did you say to him?”
Marshall hung his head again as Reinhardt came to sit next to him, giving him a concerned look as his blond hair hung over his forehead. Marshall let out, “He’s trying to get me to apologize to Quinton. He thinks we can avoid dropping me from the team. But I told him I wouldn’t do it.”
“What? Why not?” Reinhardt demanded, his voice high. “You have to do it! If there’s a chance you can stay on the team and play in the finals, you have to. I know Quinton is a dick, but you can’t let him ruin your entire life!”
Marshall turned to Reinhardt, his face in a scowl. “That’s just the thing. This isn’t my entire life! We’ve been friends for a long time, and I thought you really cared about me, so why don’t you worry about what I’m feeling right now? All you care about is me playing in the damned finals!”
Reinhardt’s mouth hung agape. He struggled to form words, but said after a pause: “You’re right, Marshall. I do care about you. But this isn’t the you that I know. The Marshall I know wouldn’t punch a teammate in the face over some poetry! The Marshall I know wouldn’t throw away everything because he’s too proud to say he’s sorry! If this is who you are, then you’re right, I can’t support you. We both love rugby. That’s who we are. And if that’s not you anymore…”
Reinhardt stood up, fire in his eyes, and turned to the door. As he walked out, Coach Barker was on the other side of the door about to enter. Coach Barker tried to scold Reinhardt for being in the room with Marshall, but Reinhardt was hardly listening as he stormed away in a huff. Coach Barker walked over to Marshall again. He didn’t sit down, but stood over Marshall as he spoke: “I just got off the phone with your father. He’s on his way to get you. We have to suspend you for the week, Marshall, but I was able to get the head of student affairs to agree that you can still play in the finals if you behave yourself this week. I told him you were having personal problems, but your record shows that this is not in your nature and all you need is a brief time out. I think you should consider yourself lucky. Go and get your things and
wait in the reception room until your father arrives.”
Marshall didn’t say a word, and left the conference room without looking at Coach Barker. He wasn’t so sure that he was lucky. He was in for an earful from his father, and he felt like no one had his back anymore.
As Marshall walked across the courtyard towards the room where his bags were, he saw the rest of the team lounging by the pool in their swim shorts. Everyone stopped talking when they noticed Marshall. Quinton was standing near the edge of the pool, and turned to sneer at Marshall. Quinton’s voice was filled with contempt as he called out: “Looks like you wormed your way out of it again, Marshall. I’ll be seeing you soon.” Marshall ignored him, and walked briskly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Reinhardt with the rest of the team. He could feel the stares from the guys. He just wanted to get out of there as soon as he could.
Rewriting Destiny Page 9
