by John Lilley
The new track eventually bottomed out after a further 200 metres. The ground was level, and Derek could hear the burbling of a nearby brook. As he turned the next corner, the track petered out altogether at the brook. There was no turning back now since he would never get back up that slope, so he had little option but to follow the brook down the hill.
It was certainly a new driving experience, and with the vehicle still in diff-lock, he selected its partner in crime: crawler gear. The vehicle bounced and shook as it made its way from rock to rock down the bed of the brook. The profile of the brook was not particularly smooth with several large steps where it had cut through harder layers; Derek simply crunched the Land Rover down them. Just when he thought he could see a new track up ahead, the brook suddenly dropped one and a half metres, and the vehicle plunged forward, its front wheels airborne once more. As it landed, despite his full harness, Derek was severely winded. He instinctively slammed on the brakes, but the vehicle had already stalled and died.
‘Damn, damn, damn,’ said Derek to the trees. ‘Not again. Start you bastard, start.’
The vehicle eventually obliged him, but it now seemed genuinely reluctant to continue. That last bash had done some lasting damage. A few metres further on, to the left of the brook, there was another track, it was slightly wider than the previous one, but still heavily overgrown.
Where the bloody hell am I? Derek thought in desperation, but no answer came from the tranquil forest. Rubbing his sore chest, he continued down the track and entered a clearing. As he did so two small fallow deer (Dama Dama) looked up from their grazing and froze at the sight of the oncoming vehicle. For an instance, Derek had a crazy notion that they were watching him, judging his driving skills. With one eye on the deer, he picked up some more tyre tracks leading out of the clearing. Once again in the wrong gear, with transmission whining, Derek made his way into the dark forest ahead.
Strangely, Derek began to feel that he knew where he was. He felt sure now that he remembered where the brook was on the map and the last clearing must have been one of the ones near to the forest perimeter track? Sure enough, 300 metres further on, Derek joined one of the main outer gravel tracks.
He continued for four more uneventful kilometres to the edge of the forest. Relaxing a little Derek, fumbled for the wiper/washer switch as the clouds of suicidal spring insects added to the already mud-spattered windscreen. Deciding to use this opportunity to further experiment with changing gear, he deliberately changed up and down through the entire gear range. In retrospect, he wished he had done this when he had got into the vehicle two hours previously but at that time he was too excited and just wanted to get moving. He wasn't going to let a few bad gear changes get in the way of enjoying the experience.
Emerging triumphantly from the forest, he continued down the track across the open field to the gate. As expected, the two ramblers waved cheerfully as he approached. He did wonder if he would be allowed to run them down but didn't want to risk any trouble of that kind. So, he stopped the vehicle while they opened the gate for him. As they did so the scene outside the Discovery froze instantly then turned pale white. The Ramblers, hedges, trees and sky all disappeared from the display goggles he was wearing. There was a noticeable pop as the hermetic seals of the simulator opened and the harsh electric light from outside streamed in. Derek’s mood dropped instantly, like a kid’s at the end of a roller-coaster ride.
Oh, Dad can't we go round again? That had been good, exceptionally good, well worth the 50 workcredits, he thought.
Reluctantly he dragged his saddlebags off the passenger seat and clambered outside the simulator. Removing the sim-suit, he returned it to its rack. He could already feel the dull ache from certain muscles that were unused to what he’d just experienced. His chest and knee would no doubt remind him of it for the next few days. The adrenalin rush from his two hours 1990's Berkshire adventure made him slightly giddy, and his legs wobbled as he walked down the simulator's steps and back into his 23rd Century world.
3 CHIEF
For over eighteen thousand years the natives of North and South America had lived in symbiotic harmony with the land. They had to endure some of the most extreme habitats and climates on the planet and nature had often kicked them back with floods, droughts and volcanic eruptions but they had survived and thrived. Their numbers were kept in check by what nature could sustainably provide, given their limited technology and of course the occasional tribal war. However, this all changed when the Europeans moved in and plundered the land; driven by greed and assisted by their superior technologies. It had been prophesied long ago by the northern natives’ shamans that they would one day rid themselves of the invading white men and once again have their hunting grounds to themselves. They knew that it would take a long time, but they knew that they would endure.
It took a long time for the many tribes to accept their defeat, and much longer to rise above the prejudices of the invaders and overcome the appalling treatment which they metered out. As the Natives’ wealth grew, they expanded out of their reservations, slowly buying back their tribal homelands. With their roots still firmly in the natural world, they became the driving force behind many of environmental protection and wildlife preservation initiatives. A large proportion of their students chose to study in the sciences, with many continuing into research.
One such opportunity which they took up was artificial intelligence, funded by the well-known entrepreneur and businessman Edward Thomas. His new facility at the University of Winnipeg was state of the art. To outsiders, Edward appeared to be a patriotic Catholic Canadian who had been very successful in the travel industry. But because he was originally from the east coast, few local people knew much about his childhood. His wife Barbara and reclusive immediate family were also a mystery. Their generosity within the local community was renowned, and as a consequence, not too many questions were asked. Also, both Edward and Barbara were not as dark skinned as some of their relatives, mainly because they made a point of staying out of the sun. If anyone knew what to look for from an anthropological perspective, they would immediately see Edward and Barbara for what they were. Just the proportions of their hands and feet were a dead giveaway. The snobbish ladies at the Women’s Institute, where Barbara often spent many afternoons, would have been quite shocked to discover that Edward and Barbara were, in fact, direct descendants of Crow Chieftains.
Edward and his team foresaw that their biggest problem would always be one of security. The NSA had been taking an unhealthy interest in some of their projects, and was the main reason for locating this project just over the border. They’d even considered relocating to Cambridge University in the UK, but further investigation had shown that the US intelligence community was already firmly embedded there and sucking it dry of every technical advance.
Edward picked his researchers very carefully, but there were just not enough of his people to go around, so some non-natives had to be integrated into the teams. Edward knew that organisations like the NSA were adept at getting to people. If they could not buy them off, then they would try to blackmail them into turning. The only way to combat this was to keep the employment contracts short, only bringing in people who could contribute well to the project, and keeping a close eye on them. Edward’s team also tightly managed the publicity of the project’s successes. It was important to make it look like they were doing reasonably well, but not so well as to put them on the NSA’s radar.
Although the overall aim was some form of artificial intelligence, Chief came about a bit by accident. The Project had been deliberately split into several smaller projects; each one concentrated on one particular technology that it was felt would contribute to the main project. These smaller projects were looking at subjects such as data-analytics, cognitive reasoning and neural networks. After two years and some success, Edward’s team instigated a special project to combine some of the newly developed technologies. This led to the first signs of consciousness. However, t
he team didn't realise it had happened at that time. In fact, it seemed at first that things kept going wrong. The important self-configuring aspects of the systems just would not behave within the soft limits set for them. It was as if the systems were continually attempting to trash themselves, often very successfully. Performance rapidly degraded instead of improving. Power control systems caused no end of problems, suddenly jumping to overload and frying masses of expensive hardware before they could be shut down. There never seemed to be enough storage, and at times it appeared that the system was literally sucking the whole Internet dry in its quest for information. A pragmatic approach was needed. The knowledge-spaces were deliberately limited to key subject areas. Control systems were redesigned with several layers of automatic physical fail-safes. Hard-limits were set, and the system started to behave but didn’t exhibit any of the expected cognitive behaviour. It consistently failed the primary set of Turing-Kimball (TK) Keystone tests.
Disappointed with progress, Edward gave the team a week off and took them to his retreat on Crow Lake 200 miles to the east of Winnipeg. The aim was to take their minds off the problem that Edward felt they’d become too close to. They spent their time at the retreat canoeing, fishing and of course sinking a few beers. For everyone it was just the tonic they needed, it reawakened their love of the natural world and their country. Once more everything was put into perspective. It reminded them of their ultimate aims and threw into sharp relief the magnitude of the project they were all part of. The many barbeques, beers and evening campfires were always the catalysts for some major lateral thinking exercises. They all returned to Winnipeg invigorated and ready to solve the problem.
What they found on their return was their building burnt to the ground. Apparently, the blaze had happened in the middle of the night. Edward smelt a rat and immediately brought in his own investigative team. They were there in hours and straight away spotted something rather strange about two of the fire services officers. Six weeks previous, they’d both attended a similar “incident” 700 miles away in Wichita USA. The project in Wichita was one of three dummy projects that Edward had set up to draw the attention of the NSA away from his Winnipeg project. Further investigations showed that both the firemen had suddenly been drafted into the Winnipeg service and were now Canadian Citizens, however, when they attended in Wichita they were US Citizens with different names. In Wichita exactly the same thing had happened out of the blue, the whole building that housed the project had burnt to the ground.
So they’re on to us, thought Edward.
He felt the phone in his pocket buzz as a text message came in. Palming the phone, the message read: “Help, see monitor GHJ78634”. The caller had withheld their number and Edward was just about to delete it when a voice call came in from one of his fixers.
His people took over the local Fire Service’s investigations after they suspected the NSA involvement. Their initial search focused on the security camera feeds, three of these were fed through cables to nearby exchanges. All three had been cut at exactly 11:45 pm the previous evening. However, the backup consisted of a series of webcams from the researchers’ individual PCs. These all sent their output via wireless local area network out to gateways onto the Internet. From there they were routed through many anonymous networks until they emerged in Edward's headquarters; a run-down warehouse building on the outskirts of the Kamloops Native Reserve, on the edge of the Monashee Mountains.
Some attempt had been made to jam the networks that the webcams fed into. The pictures were grainy, but with image enhancement the situation was clear. Edward thumbed through the video images from one of his many accounts. At around 00:05 hrs, six masked men entered the University building through a window they had carefully removed. The invaders seemed to already know exactly where to concentrate their attack and went straight to the main processor racks, burning their way through the high-security doors with thermic lances. Once inside they removed most of the main neural network arrays from their cabinets and sealed them into custom-made carrying cases. Edward switched the focus between the webcams to try to get a better look at the attackers’ faces. A worthless exercise, these guys were professionals and wouldn’t be careless enough to let their masks slip, no matter how hot and sweaty they got. What Edward didn’t like was the fact that those carrying cases were a pretty good fit for the neural units, implying that some inside knowledge had been gleaned beforehand.
Later that day he was thumbing through the recent messages on his phone when he came across the “Help, monitor GHJ78634” one.
‘Hey Charlie,’ he said to one of his helpers, ‘did we have a monitor GHJ78634 in the lab?’
‘Hey no problem Ed, I'll check our inventory now,' said Charlie as he called up the appropriate database on-screen. ‘Let's see now, the main lab, I guess it's the serial number, only 150 to check. Oh, I don't believe this, it’s only the one on my desk, the one with the pink pony on its side.’
‘OK, sorry, someone told me you were a train-spotter. I’d no idea you were into My Little Pony as well,’ said Edward.
‘It’s my daughter’s latest craze, she’s pony mad. I’ve had to have a sticker in my car too,’ said Charlie.
‘OK, right, can you get me a webcam image that shows your old screen?’ said Edward.
‘Let’s think about that, I guess it would be one of the two behind me, Dave or Stuart’s? I’ll access those feeds now. Coming up on your monitor in tandem,’ said Charlie.
One of the screens was just showing the Apple classic screensaver, and the other appeared to be blank. Then a single 11-digit number scrolled up the centre of the blank screen.
‘That’s my cell-phone number,’ said Edward.
The scrolling number disappeared and was replaced by just the text: “20fps” displayed in a 44 font in the centre of the screen. After five seconds this also disappeared, and the screen became what appeared to be a mass of rapidly changing random white dots. Ninety seconds later the dots stopped, and the single word “Chief” was displayed briefly, just before the screen went blank as the monitor’s power light went out.
‘So what do you think all that was Charlie?’
‘No idea Ed, nothing I was working on. Perhaps it’s the My Little Pony people contacting me from their home planet?’
‘More than likely Charlie, but just in case it’s something useful can you send it all down to our friends in the Everglades. I think that someone or something was trying to tell us something.’
The next few weeks were critical as Edward ensured that all traces of the webcam activity were analysed and secured, a task made easier because of their strong connections with the social network he was using. Meanwhile, the Seminoles were hard at work on the mysterious message from Charlie’s monitor. It took them twenty days to crack the encryption and reassuringly for Edward it was a variant that the NSA had not yet encountered let alone decrypted. Deciphering the images was one thing, but the code-breakers could make little sense of the resulting thousands of pages of technical details.
Edward felt that the NSA’s focus was too hot back in Winnipeg, so moved the main work to Kamloops, but to throw the US off their scent, most of the team stayed in Winnipeg and appeared to continue their research from temporary accommodation. Back at the warehouse in Kamloops, 100 feet below ground, the architecture of the Natives’ first singularity was being revealed. Most of the details were understandable, but there were certain aspects of the design that seemed ridiculous. One such change was the move away from IBM 3D processors to Sony PS8 Cell-Processors, the ones from their latest games console. The suggested memory configurations were novel, to say the least, but all within the current manufacturing capabilities of the Natives' many fabrication facilities. Instead of storing the data once, the new requirement was to save it numerous times at many different levels of detail, something that only Edward’s data science team saw some advantage for. The scariest aspect of the proposed system for the researchers was that a significant element
of the system would be linked to the Internet. The last 100,000 pages of code consisted of what appeared to be a revised main kernel module. Apart from the first few binary words and the termination sequence, none of the rest of the code made any sense to any of the researchers. It looked like the PS8 BIOS would be able to read the code, the first part of which would immediately reprogram the BIOS before loading the rest of the code. They estimated that it would take about three days before the whole thing would be online and capable of some meaningful dialogue. One portion of the specification was for additional specialist hardware devoted to giving an image and voice to the system.
The development team were meeting in Kamloops: ‘The main thing is that these instructions have not come from any one of our team or the NSA. You never know Charlie it might be the My Little Pony people after all,’ said Edward.
‘I know we’re all uncomfortable with what’s happened but bizarre though it might seem, it’s looking like the system sent us the information. The implications of that are scary, like something from a sci-fi movie, but I think we need to just suck it and see. The costs are significant, but no more than what we were planning for the old hardware, which we have now been told was not the best approach because it was riddled with NSA backdoors,’ said Charlie.
‘So true Charlie, well said, you’re dead right, we all need to get to grips with what's coming. We're so close now, and in fact, we've already done it to a certain extent. Just imagine what kind of intelligence could come up with the instructions we’ve been given. So well done everyone and let’s get down to work and finish the job,’ said Edward.
The hardware shopping list alone was considerable and took several months for the Native network to acquire. This was mainly because they had to go about it indirectly to avoid suspicion from the Security Forces. Only Sony noticed a sudden jump in sales of their games console, mainly in the pre-summer sales. Their marketeers, however, were mystified as to why they were unsuccessful in selling additional games to the thousands of kids in North America who had recently acquired one of their consoles. Microsoft, of course, had the answer: Their X-Box games were obviously far superior.
