“We’re all taught one of the contributing factors was that its highest directive was the preservation of human life, but it lacked sufficient instruction on how to proceed when some loss of life was unavoidable. The most intriguing artifact I found in my analysis was the unexpected result of that failing: guilt.”
Skeptical, Alex arched an eyebrow, then winced as the act tugged at the skin beneath the bulky interface. “You’re telling me the machine felt guilt?”
Her shoulders rose in a hint of a shrug. “It’s the only word I have to describe what I saw. Once the students began dying it devoted an increasing number of cycles to studying how the deaths had occurred and how they might have been prevented—what different branching decisions could have been taken to result in another outcome. But because of the holes in its programming those branching decisions only led to outcomes it also deemed unacceptable.
“By the time it was shut down it was burning 73% of its processes on fault analysis rather than on finding a solution for those still alive. It obsessed over its failure to the point of paralysis.”
“Guilt.”
Canivon nodded. “It’s a devastating, crippling emotion. Learning how to process it, internalize it and eventually move on from it is part of becoming an adult. The discovery got me to thinking. What if there was a way to allow Artificials to legitimately learn those kind of life lessons and the related coping skills without endangering others?”
“I don’t see how.”
She motioned for Alex to sit up, then gently removed the interface and set it on the small table nearby. “I’m working on a project. Are you familiar with neural imprints?”
“Somewhat. A complete functional neural and synaptic map of a human brain, coded by activity and containing markers of content, right? My understanding is researchers hope they’ll solve the adult cloning obstacles.”
“And possibly one day they will do so, but the technology isn’t there yet. I’m studying whether providing a neural imprint to an Artificial can enable it to learn life lessons which matter—emotional lessons such as guilt, heartbreak, love and empathy. Sacrifice and loss. It’s my hope this will give them wisdom and good judgment…because without those they are fundamentally incapable of making the correct choices for humanity. They don’t wish humans ill—they just don’t comprehend the universe the way we do.”
Alex frowned. “Giving them real human memories, the history of a life and the way a person thinks…. Do they effectively become the person?”
“Now that is the kind of question which keeps me up nights. I haven’t yet settled on an answer.” Perhaps deciding she had been too free with her words, Canivon notched her shoulders up and cleared her throat.
“We have the explicit consent of the people involved. This is medical research same as any other. The project is kept discreet for understandable reasons, but I assure you we’re following all the regulations and conventions.”
“I’m sure you are. I’m not judging.”
“To circle back around and answer your question, yes, for now I’m afraid it is best Artificials be constrained. But I do believe they have advanced to the point where they require only the slightest bit of guidance, of human perspective, to guarantee they stay on the proper path.”
51
PORTAL PRIME
UNCHARTED SPACE
* * *
Present Day
“YOU’RE RIGHT. I DO already know the answer. It’s the Artificials…together with us.”
Alex smiled at the alien in a manner which seemed to convey gratitude, even appreciation. It was the first time she had regarded the being with anything other than impatience or exasperation, and damned if Caleb knew why.
“Was that what all this was about? Forcing me to relive those memories? Showing me the mistakes of humans and Artificials alike?”
Not all of it. We merely ensured the necessary data lay within your sight. It was for you to both see and understand.
“But do you have any idea if it will actually work? Have you—your species—done this sort of thing in the past?”
He watched Alex while her focus was on the alien and tried to figure out what she could possibly be talking about. If what would work? What did she seem to think they needed to do with Artificials? She had given him no indication as to what precisely this ‘answer’ might be and without his eVi he had no way to communicate with her—to simply ask her.
We moved beyond such distinctions long ago, but yes. Furthermore, the human brain is singularly resilient, yet highly malleable. It will adapt.
Mnemosyne seemed to know what she had in mind as well.
He officially missed his eVi. The inability to communicate privately while they entertained the alien had been troublesome at times but never so much so as right now. He desperately wanted to pull her into a quiet corner and have a conversation…but it would wait.
He couldn’t say if they had gained the alien’s respect or trust, but at a minimum it had become comfortable around them. People—or aliens, he expected—who were comfortable were susceptible to divulging more than they intended, so he tried to concentrate on Mnemosyne.
A shadow passed across Alex’s eyes as she contemplated the alien. “What if it’s not enough? Because it doesn’t feel like enough. There must be more you can give us.”
They had nearly drawn even with the artificial structure dominating the glade to the right, and she pointed to it. “What does this object generate? It isn’t the light source and it isn’t the tech repulsion field, so it has to be the cloaking shield you’re using to hide the planet from your own creations. The same creations attacking us. How does it work? Can we use it to camouflage our own ships?”
The alien hesitated before shifting course toward the object, though Caleb wasn’t sure why. Whether it cared to admit it or not, it had committed to helping them. It plainly wanted to help them.
A circular lattice of obsidian metal five meters in height enclosed an orb suspended by nothing in the center. Half a meter in diameter and pale gold in color, the orb undulated with active, flowing energy.
The gaps in the frame allowed easy entry to the center. When he stepped through the metal into the interior a vibration hummed to life in his bones, but as soon as he was inside it abated.
It was an amplifier. Whatever energy the orb emitted, the latticed metal served to boost the signal.
This apparatus replicates the conditions present in space contiguous to the planet and projects their electromagnetic signatures beyond its atmosphere.
“The orb creates a holographic image? An illusion?”
It is an applicable but not complete analogy. It is not an illusion. Space-time is altered to reflect the projection. Several of the ships chasing you passed into the ‘holo’ as you would call it. They continued to be in space until they exited the other side.
Alex arched an incredulous eyebrow. “How?”
Dimensional distortion. On entering the area they were temporarily shifted to a slightly different plane.
She did not appear convinced. “Why did it fail for us? My ship’s instruments registered the planet as soon as we breached the shield.”
The alien hesitated.
Because I determined to allow you through. Your trajectory suggested you were aware of the planet’s existence. As you have exhibited a notable talent for discovering what others cannot, perhaps this should not have been a surprise.
“Well, thank you for the special dispensation.” She had begun approaching the orb when Mnemosyne’s body shivered and began to lose definition.
We need to leave.
The alien’s increasingly amorphous form shone bright against the darkening sky. Then they were enveloped by a thousand points of light.
A second passed, no more. The lights surrounding them floated away to coalesce back into a humanoid form.
They stood outside a…house? The single-story building was constructed of wood from the native trees, with windows made of the glass
which had comprised Alex’s prison, absent the opaqueness. Flowers had been transplanted from the nearby glade to serve as a small garden entrance. Behind them a narrow pathway cut through the mountainside and back to the lake.
Had the alien built a house to better ‘provide context’? To better relate and understand?
Alex asked the question for him. “Mesme, you built a house?”
It is not important. Another is coming. One who will not welcome your presence as I have. We must hurry.
“You’re defying your kind to help us. Why?”
The alien didn’t answer at first and projected an aura of being deep in thought. Always judging how much to reveal and what to conceal. For all it shared, Caleb did not doubt the secrets Mnemosyne kept would fill a hundred novels.
The others believe we—those of us who frequent this place—have developed too much fondness for humanity. We have explained to them that Aurora displays the potential to deliver the very answers we seek, but they are no longer listening.
“I’m sorry, ‘Aurora’?”
It is our name for your universe.
“Our universe—to be distinguished from yours?”
A valid question, but he was more interested in the details Mnemosyne had, intentionally or not, revealed in its answers. Most interested.
To be distinguished from countless other universes.
The alien paused, regarding them as if to make certain it had their full attention.
Understand you are but a glint, a faint spark in the sea of stars of the true cosmos. Aurora was born but yesterday. Your species only moments ago. Yet in those brief moments of observing you, I have come to believe there may be value in your continued survival, and so have offered you a chance. It is only a chance. Your rise or fall will be of your own making.
Alex was already on to the next question. “And if we succeed? What then?”
Mnemosyne didn’t even pretend to answer this question.
The others know you came through the portal. Machines will be waiting for you on your arrival in the Metis Nebula. Should you survive the initial gauntlet, you will be hunted.
Caleb gestured dismissively. “We were hunted before we came through the portal. We’re used to it.”
You have never been hunted like this. The forces arrayed against you now constitute a legion. Human agents working on their behalf multiply each day. Most know not the nature of their true master, but they will kill you just the same.
“With respect, Mnemosyne, they will not.”
The alien turned away rather than deliver a rebuttal, and he discovered Alex regarding him with this exquisite look in her eyes and in the set of her lovely mouth. Trust, he thought. Real trust, and respect accompanying it. He decided right then and there he’d happily spend the rest of his life making sure he always deserved to receive such a look from her.
Hyperion approaches. I will return you to your ship.
His form began dissolving into a shroud to surround them.
“No—we need the shield technology!” Alex took off sprinting down the path to the lake.
The alien swirled hesitantly, as if not knowing what to do now.
Caleb gave it a shrug. “She wants the shield tech.”
Then he was running after her.
“Alex!”
She threw a haphazard wave over her shoulder but didn’t slow. And she was unexpectedly fast. Long, graceful strides suggested running was something she did. It was a small reminder that for all he believed he knew her intimately, there were a thousand details about her life he did not.
As she cleared the shelter of the mountain and arced away from the lake toward the dome, a shadow grew over the lake. He didn’t glance to see what it was. Instead he ran faster.
By the time he reached the dome she had thrust her palm into the ball of energy. Her glyphs burst to life, blazing a luminous white pattern from her fingertips to her shoulder then vanishing beneath her hairline. If she got herself electrocuted or overloaded her cybernetics he was going to kill her.
He took up a defense posture outside the frame and faced outward.
Above the lake two aliens floated. Each bore the whimsical, winged appearance Mnemosyne had borne when they had arrived. He assumed one of the aliens was Mnemosyne and the other presumably this ‘Hyperion,’ but his untrained eye could not yet tell them apart.
A tremor reverberated along his skin. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, buzzing in agitation like a deliberately discordant refrain.
Were the aliens talking to each other? No sounds were audible, nor were any voices in his head.
But the interplay was without a doubt a confrontation. One soared forward to invade the other’s personal space, if it possessed such a thing. The second alien flared, growing in size, and the dissonant sensation spiked to set the hairs along his arm quivering.
Alex materialized at his side, grasping his elbow. “What is this?”
He kept his focus on the ongoing conflict and urged her back another step. “Nothing good, I expect.”
The reverberation increased to the point of pain. Abruptly the more aggressive alien flared a brilliant white and sped away over the rise of the mountain.
Mnemosyne—hopefully this was who remained—floated above the lake for several seconds before turning and sweeping down toward them, once more morphing into a humanoid shape as its feet alighted upon the grass.
“Care to enlighten us?”
It is not your concern.
Not an acceptable answer; not this time. “A number of things here you’ve deemed not our concern. I submit your little disagreement most decidedly is our concern.”
Mnemosyne’s form rippled in a manner he had come to identify as an irritated sigh.
As I indicated before, Hyperion does not agree with my decision to allow you to be here. My associate believes empowering humanity will lead to complications.
“Has Hyperion studied us as well?”
Yes. Now please, you must depart. I have stalled Hyperion but it will not last.
He pulled Alex close—because he wanted to, and to ensure she didn’t run off again—as Mnemosyne engulfed them in light.
52
EARTH
WASHINGTON
* * *
RICHARD SETTLED INTO A WINDOW SEAT and opened the suicide note Aguirre had left behind.
It consisted of a full confession and a detailed retelling of the events leading up to today, insofar as they concerned the aliens, the conspiracy and the war. On a skim it largely matched the information Olivia Montegreu provided, albeit with more details, more names and more evidence for the judicial system some of the parties involved would eventually traverse.
It would make his job easier, though others’ far harder. People joked the Earth Alliance bureaucracy would keep operating according to the prescribed regulations and procedures should a series of black holes open up and consume everyone at a minister level and above, but in truth the government was reeling and reeling hard.
A war, any war, always exerted a strain on the leadership structure. Two changes at the highest position in less than a month had resulted in confusion and uncertainty. Colonies dropping off the map in the middle of a war and now what was unmistakably a massive offensive by unknown aliens meant entire agencies were scrambling to determine how to begin to react.
Now this. Soon some of the details of the conspiracy were going to start hitting the news feeds, however much one tried to squelch them. He felt sorry for all the ordinary people out there, not being able to get a handle on what was going on in the government and the galaxy and unable to affect any of it.
He was thankful to be on the inside and able to play a small role. Others might say his role hadn’t been so small, but it felt small to him.
He closed the file. Any information it contained which arguably rose to the level of an emergency he already knew; the rest could wait.
Before he realized he was doing it, he had opened a different file. The on
e he hadn’t tossed in a garbage bin on Krysk or the spaceport or the transport.
Senecan Federation Division of Intelligence Personnel Record: William Sutton, Jr.
The words blurred into a foreign language, strange markings which bore no resemblance to words he recognized. He ordered a bourbon straight up and stared at the title until it arrived. Then he took a long sip and began reading.
Will was born on Elathan—not New Columbia—but moved to Seneca for university, where he received degrees in both civil engineering and political theory followed by a master’s degree in architecture. He worked for a construction business in Cavare for nine years before a friend from the political science department came to him with a proposition.
Once the flames of war and their aftermath finally died down, Senecan Intelligence decided they needed eyes on the ground on Alliance worlds, especially on Earth near the seats of power. Richard understood this, for his civilian counterparts had done much the same.
Will wasn’t military, nor was he a trained killer. But he was well-versed in history and politics and possessed both a keen, analytical mind and an affable, friendly demeanor. After two months of training on the logistics of the spy trade they sent him to Earth with an airtight backstory, made all the better because it differed from reality solely in the locations at which the hallmarks of his life had occurred. An only child whose parents died in a transport accident when he was seventeen, he left behind no family and carried with him no complications.
His mission was to learn what he could where he could and pass it along. Nothing more, nothing less.
He set up a wholly legitimate construction firm in Vancouver. The work he did was real and above-board. But he also became active in the community and cultivated friends among the civilian contractors who worked at EASC and the nearby auxiliary bases.
Vertigo: Aurora Rising Book Two Page 34
