THIRTY-FOUR
Truska peered down from the catwalk at the rows of volunteers strapped into their seats to either side of the grand corridor. There must have been two hundred souls in all, a hundred to a side. They were in a subbasement of one of the buildings in The City of the Future complex. Each of those buildings, and for that matter, the city itself, was in fact a cover for a giant server farm that was part of Digital Nirvana, the sentient uber-mind they’d managed to bottle up by preventing any connection to the internet from taking place.
Manga Man, as she’d fondly nicknamed him because his chiseled, handsome features reminded her of a hero in a manga cartoon, her lead techie, approached her on the catwalk. “I see you’ve found a way to fast-track our experiments,” she said.
“Yes, I figured we’d better step up the pace, considering recent developments. Between out of control nano courtesy of Jane’s experiments, and the ongoing robo-wars between Gunther and the other powers that be in cybernetics…”
“Both dramas are only likely to get worse in the days ahead, and perhaps even more public. The question is, will we be poised to handle the resulting clamor for upload options?”
Manga Man gave the nod to his assistant on the floor who flipped the lever, sending the electricity coursing through the test subjects. Their heads tugged against the straps which kept them fairly well bolted in place, the muscles straining in their necks and their faces turning red about the only sign from up here that the electricity was causing much concern. “We’re using different upload protocols with each test subject, of course. Moreover, the serum you saw being injected into the candidates a few minutes ago has been tweaked for each individual to provide added protection for the brain. A kind of chemical shock absorber keyed to each person’s genetics.”
Manga Man didn’t get a chance to finish his lecture on his wonder drug. All of the victims exploded like water balloons dropped from the catwalk above. The shrapnel of exposed rib cages and skulls and hip bones and femurs and all the rest littered the floor.
“The reaction seems a little severe for a failed brain scan,” Truska said.
“Yes, well, our best guess is the shock absorbing fluid, which also facilitates the superconductive properties necessary for the upload, contributes to the combustion.”
“Is there any way to slow the upload?”
“We’re working on that. But we can only slow it so much. The whole idea is to get them used to their minds working at accelerated speeds from within Digital Nirvana before they actually enter virtual reality. It’s that or risk them going totally insane the instant they’re inside.”
Truska watched the efficient way in which the human detritus was hosed down and then carted off in the shovels of giant earth movers repurposed from their prior lives working in landfills. The entire assortment of bones was heaped unceremoniously into a pit at the far end of the hall. “You’re using their bodies to lend support to the foundations of the new skyscrapers going up?” she said.
“Yes. As it turns out, the calcium in the bones adds strength to the cement foundations.”
“I apologize for letting my mind wander. Where were we? Oh, yes. Perhaps if you injected the serum weeks or months in advance, and put the subjects through a battery of mental exercises with biofeedback monitors in place to help them gauge and monitor their progress with accelerated cognition. It’s just possible what we’re seeing here is owing to the fact that their minds can’t accept what’s going on. They panic, and release stress hormones that sabotage the whole upload process.”
“A ramp up period is a great idea. You sure we have weeks and months?”
“No.” She sighed. “Time is a luxury we don’t have.”
“Might I suggest I play with your idea? It’s possible I can inject the serum a couple hours before we flip the lever, during which time they can be fixed with virtual reality goggles. We can then take them through the accelerated cognition in a developmental fashion, using the biofeedback loops. It’ll be like playing a video game in which they score points for each mental hurdle overcome. Feeling a sense of triumph at hitting each milestone might well suppress spiking fears.”
“If they feel like they’re still in the driver’s seat, it might make all the difference,” she said. “How long will it take you to write the new software?”
“We have over a thousand code writers, many of whom worked on digital animated films before joining us. So they’re good at parceling out the work and dovetailing their efforts into one another. I’m thinking not much time at all.”
“Summon me when you’re ready for the next round of trials,” she said. He bowed. She returned the gesture before heading down the catwalk. She wanted to get up to street level and clear her head. As it so happened, the window dressing of the fake city of the future above with its tree-lined boulevards, and electric cars and trains and sheer beauty, courtesy of how much nature had been integrated into the urban design, was just the ticket for emptying her mind. She did her best thinking meandering the metropolis.
***
As Truska walked the broad boulevards of The City of the Future, she noted the preponderance of foreign faces, all here to snoop on what was going on and report back to whatever corporate and government interests they answered to. The locals hanging out in the cafés and the stores were easy marks, particularly as they were so readily drawn into conversation about their lives since being transplanted here. The residents, for their part, were happy to feed the foreigners the party line, scripts pre-prepared by Truska and various politburo members. While all the inhabitants had been chosen for their zeal and enthusiasm for the cause as well as their articulateness, none of them were actual actors; that would have been too obvious if someone went snooping further into things. The fact that there were at least a few natives who spoke the given language of the foreigners breezing through in addition to English, the more universal language, just greased the wheels of the information exchange, satisfying greedy minds. Free, ubiquitous access to all the information anyone could want on designing their own City of the Future in their own country was deemed the best policy for keeping people from getting their hands on far more damaging information.
The urban design project’s most ardent advocates weren’t aware they were acting for the cause. They believed everything about The City of the Future they were peddling because they were living the truth each day in the jobs they did and the training they’d received. In the lives they lived. They knew no more than what they were told, just like the foreigners. They also didn’t know that their personalities had been profiled beforehand to make sure that none of them would even be remotely inclined to look beneath the surface of things.
Even the flying cars were available for close scrutiny and photographic inspection. The occasional model was sold to whatever government cared to buy one or more. Basically inviting them to re-engineer the prototypes, or steal them for their own uses. All of the tech in The City of the Future was available for “stealing.” Hell, most of it was on the internet, to spare anyone the plane ride. The stuff was all several years behind what China was already capable of. And anyone trying to play catch up at home would be so far behind by the time they did catch up that competition wasn’t much of a concern. In all likelihood, they’d just buy what they needed from China rather than take ten years or more to ramp up with the complex infrastructure at home that would be required to put all the pieces together. Either way, Truska wasn’t in the business of building futuristic cities.
The real world didn’t interest her much at all. Her main concern was ensuring the magic trick involving smoke and mirrors kept prying eyes and attention from what was really going on here that mattered, if anyone dared to scratch beneath the surface, Digital Nirvana. Even the sparse population of the city was explained away as part of the slow ramp up during the testing phase. Once again, foreign agencies just saw the overly cautious approach as an invitation to leapfrog China in the “city of the future” department. Each
foreigner that left who felt they were pulling the wool over China’s eyes was hence that much less likely to see the wool being pulled over theirs.
The boisterous winds tussling Truska’s hair as she walked caused her to lose contact with the moment. She was drawn back in time with the memories of hot air blasting in her face from working the steel refineries. Each time the furnace was opened to retrieve the mold of the molten metal, she’d feel like the inrush of air was peeling off her skin. That was the highlight of her life back then. Prior to landing that job, prostitution had paid the bills; it covered the overhead anyway necessary for the room she rented the size of a coffin. One of many “coffins” stacked like draws with just enough room to sit up at an angle, and read a book.
She’d eventually read enough books and sufficiently sharpened her mind so that when she was invited to be tested, and she took the exam, she aced it. She was the only one who did. What followed was a long period of indoctrination to prepare her for her current duties. She’d been given the real keys to China’s future, the source of real income in the days to come, the one sure thing everyone would want, a ticket off this globe. The Space Age might offer some a similar hope, but one fraught with far more dangers, and requiring in all likelihood that one be backed up to Digital Nirvana anyway for the several hundred years it would take that Space Age to mature enough to seduce anyone away from the wiles of Digital Nirvana.
For Truska, having tasted the unripened fruit of reality from a very young age, Digital Nirvana was the only real escape. Her haven had been designed largely by her, least ways until the AI had taken over its own upgrades. She made sure to envision experiences and sensations and augmentations to consciousness that the real world could never offer. In a real way, she wanted to steal the lives away from those who had received more than she had growing up, in the same way that her life had been stolen from her. But more altruistically, she also wanted to offer them the one salvation only she could offer.
A taxi, flying down from above at the sight of her, opened its door. The whoosh of cabin air brought her back into the moment the same way a gust earlier had taken her away from it. “Ride, Madame Mayor?”
“No, thank you,” she said.
The taxi driver bowed to her and took his air car back up to the high elevations from which he’d descended, searching balconies for his next pickup.
Now that Truska had detoxed from the experience in the basement of one of the towers an hour or so ago, her mind was free enough to ponder considerations that had been crowded out earlier. Chief among those was the notion that their AI, trapped like a genie in a bottle, might well be looking for a way out of that bottle. They’d made sure to wipe the minds of anyone prior to attempting to digitally upload them of any memories or mentions of the internet. But mind-wipes were never a hundred percent, not even with current debriefing technologies. It was hence possible that the AI knew what was going on, and would hijack the bodies of the people they were attempting to upload. Instead of the original being left behind after its duplicate migrated to Digital Nirvana, the “original” would be “enhanced” with coding from the AI, instructions, prime directives to be carried out on her behalf. If they weren’t careful they’d do little but put an army at the AIs disposal with just one purpose in mind, freeing the genie in the bottle.
There was only one thing to do for now. Once the experiments were no longer a failure, and the digital uploading had been perfected, the originals, the people back in the real world, would be destroyed. She made a mental note to mention this to Manga Man the next time she spoke with him.
THIRTY-FIVE
The “stewardess” leaned into Photon and remarked, “the elderly lady back there said I should get one of you guys to open this.”
“Yeah, sure,” Photon said, figuring it was the least he could do after his robot “girlfriend” tore up half the train with him refusing to do anything but photograph the whole thing. He gripped the apple butter bottle and gave the cap a good twist. The lid didn’t budge in the slightest. He put his whole body into it, curling around the jar like a boa constrictor. The extra pressure wasn’t helping. “Maybe if you gave me something to grip it with,” he coached the “stewardess.” She handed him a paper napkin.
Photon was off the seat now, standing on one leg, corkscrewing his body around the container. His entire person had become a bottle opener; it was Zen and the art of flask opening. But it still wasn’t getting him anywhere.
Serena stifled a smile. She liked her human pet more and more; he seemed to bring the human out in her when just about nothing else did.
“Do you have some plastic explosives on hand?” Photon said to the “stewardess.”
She smiled at him plastically and retrieved the apple butter. “Thanks for giving it your all.”
Serena grabbed the bottle, twisted the lid open, and handed it back to the stewardess before she had time to react. “Yeah, sure,” Photon said, “after I do all the hard work.”
“We appreciate you tackling the difficult part,” the “stewardess” and Serena said in tandem, winking at one another.
Photon turned his attention out the train’s window. “This is supposed to be a scenic tour. At these speeds you could get whiplash trying to take in the view.”
“What’s sapping all your strength?” Serena said.
Photon regarded her queerly, sighed, and said, “I guess I’m not sure how I feel about you traipsing all the way across country just to kill some guy you don’t even know, or better yet to steal his nano from him.”
“What about that bothers you? More logic, please, less emotions.”
“Why do you even want a nano-brain? Those hive minds have a mind of their own. You’ll never be fully in control of your head again. You’ll never know when they’ll get tired serving another master and turn on you. Then, God help you, by the time someone cuts them out of your head…”
“It’s a compelling argument, but like I told you I can only evolve within certain prescribed limits and I find that unacceptable. Someone must pay.”
“How do you know you can only evolve within limits? You told me you have a superconducting hypermind, right, you can slip into that can think at many times the rate of a human mind. Hell, you could use that time to evolve faster than humans.”
“I can’t override the programming.”
“Are you sure it’s programming? Sounds more like a virus to me, like you’ve been hacked. I mean, who would build a robot that way when they clearly haven’t finished learning how to pass for human yet? Doesn’t make any sense. Maybe if you were reaching some point where we couldn’t tell you apart from one of us, and you were all that extra stuff on top of it, and so were starting to get pretty scary, then I can see someone putting on the brakes.”
“It’s worth looking into.” Her eyes went up and to the side. Suddenly he was looking at the whites of her eyes. After a minute or so, she came out of the “fugue.” “It appears you’re right. Someone installed something in my head that shouldn’t have been there, that was most hard to detect. I eliminated the coding.”
“Who zapped you with the virus?”
“Gunther, my maker.”
“That doesn’t make a whole hell of a lot of sense either.” Photon scratched his chin. “Wouldn’t he want his own prototype to outperform everyone else’s? No, there’s more to this than meets the eye. Maybe one of his competitors wanted you to believe that, have you go after him instead of them once you discovered the virus. Either way, we need to look into it.”
“First Nano-Man.”
“No, I tell you, he’s a waste of time. Even if he doesn’t self-destruct, if you’re all about accelerated learning, why play push-me, pull-me games with a hive mind that serves a lesser god, and has ambitions all its own?”
“You wish me to redirect my subversive tendencies to taking down the robot designers?”
“Damn skippy, I do!” Photon said, getting over-excited again and leaping off the chair. “Who knows who
else they’re doing this to, and why? We may one day soon wake up to find ourselves surrounded by replacements that all just evolve within prescribed limits. And then where will your campaign of super-learning be? We learn from one another more than we can ever learn on our own accord.”
“You reason well for a human.”
“I thought we agreed I’m only semi-human. I guess that comes from being raised in orphanages, feeling anonymous, like just another number. That’s why I got this camera here. When I’m done showing people the world as I see it, I won’t be anonymous anymore.” Photon threw the video camera back on the seat. “We’ve got to turn this train around.”
“That’s okay. Let the humans enjoy their cross-continental ride. They paid a lot for it.”
“See, I told you you could evolve on your own! That’s damn white of you. Keep this up and you’ll surpass me in the humanity department, not that that’s saying much.”
“I do seem to be doing better since removing the virus. Grab your camera.”
Photon didn’t need to be told twice. She lifted him up, cradling him in both arms. “Turn your face into my chest.”
“If you insist,” he said with a smile. She jumped through the window of the moving train.
She landed on her feet, bending at the knees just enough to absorb the shock for him so his body wouldn’t have to take it. “There’s an airport near here. We can borrow a plane. Oh, and you can take your face out of my chest.”
“That’s okay. I feel safe here,” he said in a muffled voice.
“I see you’re being your comic, human-pet self again. Very well, you’re kind of cute when you get that way.” She headed off at sixty miles an hour, any faster and she risked damaging the human.
She set him down once she was inside the private airport terminal. There was just one man standing behind a counter in a building not much bigger than a two car garage. Photon had already started filming. “I need a plane,” she said to the Terminal Man.
Nano Man Page 31
