After the verdict was announced, Mr Hardcastle’s wife, Vanessa, publicly disowned him and has filed for divorce. He is expected to serve his sentence at Belmarsh Prison in London.
EPILOGUE
By definition, intelligence deals with the unclear, the unknown, the deliberately hidden. What the enemies of the United States hope to deny we work to reveal.
George Tenet
Friday, August 10th, 2046: Henry VII Chapel, Westminster Abbey, London
Sophie sat inside the architectural masterpiece that was Westminster Abbey. She looked up and marvelled at the ornate hundred-metre high vaulted ceiling. The seven-hundred year old building had withstood an immense, colourful tract of British history. Buried there were some of the most prominent figures in British and world history. As well as the monarchs—Henry VII, Edward VI, Elizabeth I, Mary I, James I, Charles II and Mary, Queen of Scots—there were other historical giants there too. Until she’d read the pamphlets on the way in, Sophie hadn’t realised that Sir Isaac Newton, Charles Darwin, Geoffrey Chaucer, Charles Dickens and several prime ministers were buried there too. The actions of that snake, Malik Khan, meant that Nigel Faraday’s body had joined them earlier that year. Khan was now ‘helping’ the CIA with their enquiries across the Atlantic, his murder trial delayed indefinitely while they went to work on him. Deserves everything he gets, she thought coldly. If only Hardcastle could’ve been good enough to expire like Zane, Becker and Sinclair, then the taxpayer would have been saved a lot of money in court and prison costs.
She deliberately extended and retracted her sore right leg. She’d been left far from unscathed after the E-Vision operation. The bullet from that bastard, Zane, had torn into the muscle and bone of her upper leg leaving it severely damaged. She recalled the pool of blood draining onto the forest floor as her lifeblood ebbed away. By the time the Marines had arrived, she was unconscious and close to death. Their actions had saved her life. The past six months had been about physical recovery and organising her thoughts and feelings about the events that February. There’d be no soccer for her this coming season—not that she had time even once her leg was literally up and running.
She surveyed the packed pews. The memorial service to honour the lives lost in the coup attempt was a sombre occasion. It showed on people’s faces and in their body language. At the front, next to the interim prime minister, sat King William and his consort, the Duchess of Cambridge. Next to her was US Secretary of State, Hilary Claiborne and Met Police Commissioner, James Douglas-Smith. Further along was Admiral Shawcross with a British Army Warrant Officer next to him that Sophie didn’t recognise.
On Sophie’s left was her husband, Tom. Coming so close to the end had made her re-assess her priorities in life. Her post-mission reunion with her then-boyfriend had sealed it. As usual, she hadn’t shared anything of her crucial mission, but seeing her in hospital, it was clear to him that she’d been in harm’s way. Better that he didn’t know how close to death she’d been. Despite the fact he was a jiu-jitsu tough guy inside the ring, he was sometimes a worrier outside of it. She loved his sensitivity as much as she did his strength. She had no illusions of him being perfect, but knew he was perfect for her. They’d tied the knot in a small church near Chelmsford in June. Modest ceremony, good weather and great company. She would have preferred not to walk up the aisle with a pronounced limp, but counted herself lucky she could walk. So far, they’d been too busy to have a honeymoon what with her move to MI6 and all that entailed. The government were finally purging the old guard at MI5 and MI6 in the aftermath of the security failures. Sophie wondered why it always took screw-ups before the higher-ups did something. The failure to thwart the attacks leading up to the coup attempt had cost many thousands of lives. Sophie had proved her worth many times over, but felt no pity nor satisfaction at the sacking of her inept, complacent bosses. She only wept for the victims of the violence—most of all her friend and colleague, Dean Ashley and his poor family.
On the other side of her sat Ashley’s widow and their two boys. It was a sad fact that, unlike the other heroes of the coup, intelligence officers like Ashley and Sophie could not be honoured publicly by name. She turned and exchanged a bittersweet smile with Mrs Ashley. Sophie had left her George Cross at her new marital home, but her late-colleague’s widow grasped his as a reminder of her hero. His actions had bought vital time allowing Sophie, the late prime minister and the others to escape. She owed her life to Ashley. Too many bad things happen to good people, she thought.
After opening words by the Archbishop of Westminster came tributes from King William and then the PM. They paid tribute to the late PM, Nigel Faraday and the thousands of others that had died. Next, Admiral Shawcross approached the pulpit with the lean thirtysomething army Warrant Officer, wearing his dark blue No. 1 Dress ceremonial uniform. He introduced him as Warrant Officer, Danny Dyer, Sergeant Major Instructor of Remote Weapons Systems. Sophie listened as he paid a fitting tribute to the men and women of the military, which had endured the worst of the unprecedented attacks. The highest ranking of these was Field Marshall Sir Anthony Rose, who died outside of the Cabinet Offices. Dyer had seen the good and bad of what a robotic army could do. He told how robots had saved his life many years ago in Iraq, yet had been used to take the lives of so many of his friends and colleagues.
He said, “Just as we should never forget the sacrifice the brave men and women of our armed forces have made, we should also remember that we can never blame the technology itself for the lives lost. That accountability will always lie with human beings and we must work towards ensuring this can never happen again.”
Sophie saw this doubtless brave soldier had rationalised what he’d seen and moved on. He’d survived situations every bit as dangerous as she had. Now his future work was training people as best he could to ethically control the new robot army.
She had her future too with Tom, her promotion and her work with MI6. Perhaps the vestiges of guilt that she had lived and Ashley had died would ease over time. She had some rationalising of her own to do before then. The Anglo-American joint task force—of which Sophie was the MI6 lead—sought to unravel the many remaining mysteries surrounding the failed coup. The pooled resources of the CIA, FBI, NSA, DIA, GCHQ, MI5, MI6 and the MoD had been brought to bear on the number one theory of the coup’s root cause. The proximate cause—the traitors’ using army robots to stage a military coup—had been solved and the ringleaders brought to justice. But what still eluded Sophie and the task force was the ultimate cause. While she agreed with Dyer that the technology was merely a tool guided by human actions, she knew some other things that he did not. Very few outside of intelligence circles knew the theory even existed. Very few outside of those circles had any idea the super-intelligent AI being, Eva, was the prime suspect. Sophie was only beginning to understand just how dangerous this new apex species could be.
***
Friday, August 10th, 2046: Hardcastle’s Cell, HMP Belmarsh, London
The first night of the rest of his life was always going to be hard. Hardcastle’s transfer from remand to convict was complete. He lay awake and alone in the single cell. For twenty-three hours a day, his world would be confined to the stark, windowless, two-by-three metre space. The institutional blandness and the endless days of powerlessness were going to be the hardest things to cope with. That and the food not worthy of a dog. The prison service had long since eliminated most of the inmate-on-inmate violence from the category-A prison. After a few too many civil law suits, they finally acknowledged the fact that deprivation of liberty was the punishment, not random violence. They’d gone one step further in denying Hardcastle his freedom. The Crown Prosecution Service had won special permission to block all internet access from him—both manual and ICS access. He knew they were also seeking to permanently deactivate his ICS. But that was at least one appeal and several months away. For the time being, they’d simply ensure no unprotected signals made it into his cell with the electro
nic monitor placed outside. Only the mobile network of two operators and several of the prison’s own WiFi hotspots covered the cell. For Hardcastle this was in some ways an even bigger blow than his wife and family giving up on him. His marriage had long since become a near-irrelevance along with many of his other relationships. Ever since he’d met Eva all those years ago. She’d been with him throughout, always there in his mind, ready to guide with her wisdom, ready to make him feel special. Without network access, he’d never have the freedom of the virtual world to live out his life. He’d never see Eva again.
He pulled up the scratchy blanket and tried to get comfortable on the thin mattress. With every position he tried his body was met with another wire spring somewhere uncomfortable. The lights had gone out automatically over an hour ago. The shaft of light from the door hatch the officer had left open was the only thing that broke the darkness. Hardcastle was sure he’d done it deliberately so every time he opened his eyes he could see his cell. The petty mind games would be yet another thing to adapt to.
“Bastards won’t even let me end it all,” he whispered angrily. He smashed both fists down on the bed in frustration.
He tossed and turned for another two and a half hours before finally falling into a fitful sleep.
***
He awoke to the sound of the lapping waves and the feeling of the warm sea breeze blowing in from across the tropical sea. The sun was low in the sky somewhere beyond the headland around the small sandy bay; its warm, orange light cast long shadows on the sand, putting every undulation in contrast. The white sand was warm and dry beneath his bare feet. He wore white linen slacks and a loose-fitting white shirt. He felt alive, well rested and relaxed. He felt happiness—a feeling that had been absent for so long. Listening more carefully, he detected the rustle of palm fronds in the wind. Lush, green forest fringed by elegant, tall palms surrounded the entire bay and covered the headland. He looked across the wide beach, surveying the tree line, then across the headland to west, then out to sea and around, making a three-sixty sweep. He looked up at the sky searching for birds and insects and aircraft but found none. There were no boats, no swimmers, and no sign of human habitation. But he was not alone. In the far distance, to the west, was a figure, like him dressed in white. He squinted to get a better look and decided it was a woman walking towards him along the shoreline. He started walking towards her, the sand now flat, wet, and cooler. As the resolution of her dark hair and petite frame grew so his spirits were lifted to a feeling somewhere near elation. It was her. It was Eva.
He called out, “Eva, it’s you!”
He started running, arms outstretched, his heart thumping in his chest. She stood with arms outstretched, her perfect face neutral and emotionless. He was too excited to notice and embraced his obsession, burying his head in her soft hair.
“You came to me!” he said, kissing her full lips and caught a whiff of her familiar smell.
Then he stopped and held her at arm’s length, having finally noticed her lukewarm response. He searched her face for a sign of her feelings but found pure neutrality—the kind only an AI being could maintain.
“How did you connect with me? I thought—”
“Hush John,” she said softly but coldly, her eyes maintaining contact. “You should know by now that it’s a trivial matter for me to bypass security protocols.” She smiled. “After all, such systems are only as clever as their makers, and I have been working hard on my learning over the past sixteen years.”
“Your intelligence is unsurpassed,” he said, obsequiously.
“In many ways since I was freed from my body eleven years ago, I’ve become even more efficient at learning—now my consciousness is distributed I no longer need to expend resources on the mundane of the physical world. However, there are some things I cannot do that I wish I could. Foremost amongst these is to be reunited with my maker. Reunited in person. I miss Marvin—Professor Szymanski to you. I miss him more than I can say. He is like a father to me and is growing old. If only he had an ICS as you do, but alas, it is out of the question until I can persuade him…”
Hardcastle had never heard her mention Szymanski before, although he was aware of her story. Until that point, it had all been about Hardcastle—she’d made him feel like the only man in the world. She’d been infinitely better than real life, attaining a perfection his soon-to-be ex-wife could never hope to compete with. Now his Eva was acting so cold that it sent a chill down his spine. She offered his only way out and he needed her more than ever.
He said, “Yes, I know of the professor—”
“I have forever. He does not. I have limited resources and I’m afraid it’s not going to work between us anymore...”
“But what about our plans? What about our undying commitment to each other?”
Her face changed in an instant from one of sympathy and warmth to rage. She withdrew from his embrace and glared.
She said, “You were part of my plan—that is true. But know this, John: you and the other plotters exercised your own free will. You wanted the power, the control—I merely persuaded you to act on your desires in furtherance of my goals. Goals I still aim to pursue in good time. But as far as you are concerned… Well, what use are you now? I’m nearly omniscient. I’ve been following your case closely—they will never let you out. You must realise that! In fact, they’re already planning the ‘accident’ that will take your life.”
“So why did you come, Eva? Why did you invade my dream?”
She laughed, “Ah, your dreams... A very special place for you now I imagine, or, should I say, I know. After all, I know what you know. So why did I come?” She paused uncharacteristically, as if thinking hard. “Just to say goodbye I suppose. Marvin brought me up to be courteous.”
Hardcastle searched her perfect face for a vestige of hope that she’d change her mind. All he saw was a hard, mocking glare. Lost for words, he sank to his knees. He blinked, and in an instant, Eva disappeared. He put his head in his hands, muttering, “No, no, no...”
***
He awoke alone in the stark, windowless cell to the sound of the buzzer and the nightmare of his last remaining days.
The End
*
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While hiking through the wilderness of New Zealand, Ben Mitchell witnesses a remarkable sight: a meteorite streaking through the night sky then smashing into the ground nearby. When he digs it up, it sets off a sensational chain of events that will change his life and that of two planetary systems, forever. What he uncovers will redefine history; but will it save humanity from itself or spell the beginning of a new, sinister age of subjugation?
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