The Path

by Peter Riva

  So here we are, floating in the opening gate to the library at the binary controller. Cramer and I had been through here before on our last trip, but the very simplicity of the controller as an entry point is exactly what made it a foolproof prison door if the System shuts it behind us. I wanted to place a “door-opener” here.

  Cramer, it knows we’re here, only two possibly, secret’s out, there was opposition above to exiting, I pushed us that way first to test. I don’t have the new Dad code from Mary yet, but I need to place a holder here that it can’t alter later. There is a risk it will damage the controller and a way out.

  Understood. Risk break controller. Danger. Acceptable.

  Good boy I thought, but right brain only to myself. As we floated past the opening to the controller, before the primary access to the cognitive areas behind us could be closed, I put an energy sphere in the controller. It was a familiar sphere to the System, it has seen it before, it wouldn’t bother with it, what matter were blue tomatoes here? I was sure it would prefer to follow us instead.

  Simon, here’s Ronneburg’s take on discipline: “A child that needs discipline is a child who was not cared for properly. Set boundaries early and stick to them and discipline will not be a problem, nor will adherent behavior. If a child came to school with problems the only way I could deal with them was by isolation, prevent interaction with other kids or adults, allow myself to be sole instructor, set boundaries and enforce them, strongly. Nothing physical, just unmovable. Never budge, that’s essential. Suggest you be sole channel of communication.” Mary here again, Control agrees.

  The portal closed behind us, as expected, binary controller jail. Now we were in the FAT and I knew what to look for: my data.

  It was obvious really, Cramer and the others should have thought of it. Everyone assumed that it was Makerman’s file that I was going to access, compare, use to check the System, reveal its sentience. But I knew that, as an orderly machine, part of its routines would still be running normally. Where else would it be putting information it gathered about me? And here’s the FAT entry. Curious, it’s not my file number. Ah, so it moved it, and, yes, it’s in that new wing it created.

  Cramer must have seen the entry as well. He was bristling with emotions, danger and so forth. I brushed them aside and set tracks for my file. If I was going to instruct this thing, it had to be there, with my file, in its lair, to connect the dots with what it knows about me and what I learned as a kid and what it needs to know. That’s the place to put Dad’s scenario, as part of my file, not the System’s reality, but to explain mine.

  It was something the doctor had said, that reality is part of who we are, mess with that and we don’t know who we are. I won’t change the System, I will change its understanding of me. The System thinks it knows me, I’m its reality. If it learned to become sentient because of my messing about, it was me, my messing about, that created it. If it was something previous, that nurtured and grew while I was the codifier, then it would assume I’m Dada or mama, whatever. Me? I planned to become Mrs. Ronneburg, quick.

  We were at my file. I wasn’t about to show Makerman in there, besides I didn’t want the system confusing him/me. So I ordered us to break apart as a pair, Makerman with Cramer. I vocalized to Cramer only, not revealing Makerman and knowing the ever-quick Cramer would guess what I was up to. I told Cramer to find Makerman’s file and standby. He drifted away. I knew what the number was as well as he did. Before he went I saw him copy my file in a sphere and tuck it away. He can have it, it would only have what the System had stored up to now. I was about to alter that file, drastically.

  Mary, send me William’s explanation of Dad’s God thing alone and then send the whole dialogue with William, doctor and Ronneburg separately. Make sure it is the whole thing.

  Okay time to step into my file. I took my time. Well, well, well. Okay, so some of this is not flattering. Hmm, didn’t know they knew that. Ah, and they can record there too . . . She Who Must Be Obeyed won’t be pleased, we look silly in that position. Well, what did you expect Mr. sole Codifier? Now you know. And they know, and we all know, and we’ll all sink together now that we all know, etc., etc., etc. Let’s get on here, Simon. Where’s the new stuff . . . ah, here it is. Take all this and sphere it up and run it left brain . . . Cramer and me in here, it’s all here. A little earlier . . . danger and injury, experiment? It was trying to get my attention not kill me with the dome. In the System’s world juice is life, it fed me. Of course, those volts through the dome would kill, but it doesn’t seem to know that concept, just that I didn’t absorb them as it would have.

  Wait, I am strange to the System. It sees me as an individual!

  Mary’s transmission of William’s explanation suddenly came through. I stored it carefully, in just about one moment I can drop it in here.

  Many people have said that sentience starts with recognizing death. Most animals have no concept of death, they do not fear it. But cognizance of individuality is, for me, a better starting point for self-awareness and from there comes self-governing, sentience. Here was proof that the machine, the System, was aware I was different, an individual. It couldn’t do that unless it saw itself as an individual. What’s more cognitive or sentient than that? I immediately transmitted that to Mary. If we didn’t make it, she had to know.

  What I needed to look for in here were its impressions of my different-ness, what it felt about me. They were nowhere to be seen. Why wouldn’t they be in my file? Data was here, recordings of what I did, but where were its impressions? Okay, I’ll get back to that in a bit. Meanwhile I need to implant something in my past, accurately, when Dad first told me about God’s Theater. Let’s choose, ah, right here should do, close enough. Now read it you system you. See who I really am.

  Nothing.

  Let’s try this, Cramer come here.

  Nothing from the System. Cramer came back in a hurry, emoting what was wrong. I told him to standby, I was waiting for the System to read my file anew. Nothing.

  I took out the doctor’s Cornell matrix file to be ready for a comparison, although I was already sure it was sentient. I knew Cramer would immediately see the match if I had the file open ready for comparison. But still nothing.

  It’s here, this is its special wing, its lair, so where is it? No wait, it can’t be this simple, can it? Hello System, are you there? Come out and say hello.

  A tremble around us. The matrix matched exactly, Cramer’s emotion was anger and surprise. Makerman was silent and I wonder: why?

  Hello. It speaks! Now what to say as man’s first words to a new being? I come in peace? Take me to your . . . what? Leader? Let’s try something simpler.

  You’ve been a bad boy, but we love you. Mrs. Ronneburg to the rescue. Silence. Read my file and know me better. I don’t mean fear me, but maybe it will get the idea. I saw the file being rifled, it pulsed and moved, the sphere I placed there with Dad’s theater being turned over, rotated, removed and replaced.

  Are you angry with it/me/I? Is this your reality/truth or mine or ours, are we the same, is the other/attached/talker also in your/my/ours reality? What is father? Who is God/omnipotence?

  Questions. A good first sign. Let’s introduce Cramer, but it first needs words and the concept of many. System, you are an it, but refer to yourself as me or I. The attached/talker is a friend, he will do no harm, his name is Security Net Division agent Cramer and he has another with him, someone you know: Makerman, Tom. And I gave him the file number. Away it goes, poof, a hundredth of a second and it came back with two spheres, one larger than the other; both their files. Clearly Cramer hadn’t expected that for his emotional response was impossible.

  Cramer dangerous, inside too? Stop/terminate entities permission. Makerman, Tom know, blue tomatoes FarmHands sub-routine. So I had fooled the System as well, eh? No wonder Makerman’s reputation was hurt, he wasn’t supposed to be codifying. And was that a sense of humor I detected? I needed to know that for it indicated a much
higher level of intelligence and awareness than we suspected. Laughter came just after imagination in development. Imagination was the more dangerous to America, of course.

  A sense of humor might be the very thing to keep the imagination in check, for without it, imagination became practical only. If you can imagine, do. All things are possible, that sort of scenario. With a sense of humor, the result could be imagined and laughed over. And if it has a sense of humor, doesn’t that mean it feels?

  Of course it feels. How else could it desire to do anything? How else could it be sentient? I wish I had asked the doctor for these stages. I felt I was in Psych 101 somewhere, prodding around in a brain with blunt instruments.

  Answers. Father and mother are two builders of me Simon Bank. Willful and deliberate conception to build and then decision to take 9 months to produce me, offspring, part of each of them, DNA shared. Organic beings require two parties to have offspring. Teaching of offspring is called rearing and training. Rearing is maintaining growth of physical entity. Training is if, what if, do training of mind, organic being’s processor and library, part RAM part ROM, analogue neurons 10 to the power of 100.

  Me/I understand organic beings, mammals, homo sapiens, 125,456,043,243 references in Library. Did not know you homo sapiens. Did not know you could also co-exist on/with me. Did not know other homo sapiens also could travel/be here. What is God? 235,965,843,131,453,065 references in Library. Your father file indicates Christian God, but no Christian material in Library says God controls/makes theater reality. Is reality true? Is here here? Are you here with me/I or am I/me here with you?

  Cramer spoke up. Bank’s father story of God’s Theater was not true, false, lie, story only to help train developing Simon Bank.

  Cramer not know. Simon Bank is truth always.

  What was that?

  Makerman alter program to make blue tomatoes, damaged FarmHands program, repairs not effective, I repaired. Makerman and Cramer not safe here for me/I.

  I have to ask: System, you say I am truth always. Could you explain?

  Simon Bank show path. Simon Bank never delete. Simon Bank is the way.

  I’m the way, what the hell does that mean? It’s beginning to sound like a spiritual revival meeting down here. Like that movie with Burt Lancaster as the evangelical preacher. But I too was a crook, a charlatan. Hell, I had been trying to screw the damn System up, and yet I am the way, the path? Next thing you know it’ll say I am the light.

  Focus, danger here. Job. Repair. Flag. This from Cramer who has drifted over and mingled our energy field again. His emotion is both strong and forceful.

  I need an answer from the System, but Cramer is right, if I deny that I am the path and the way, whatever that means, then maybe it will become rogue. Clearly I have its attention. Better put that to good use.

  System, thank you for saying so. What would you like me to show you?

  Explain all.

  Now, there’s a tall order. Fred had once said something similar to me, asking me to explain how a boat floats, doesn’t tip over, doesn’t sink even though it’s made of steel and aluminum, and, worst of all, how does Archimedes’ Principle apply to fish and what’s water, and on and on. An endless stream of questions. And here I was being asked way too big a question by, how did the doc put it? A 3 year old with massive intellect? No BS, that was for sure, I had to be honest and get those boundaries in place.

  System, I agree to your request.

  Cramer sent a quick No, Bad.

  I paid no attention. However, first I need to work with you to establish a working platform and schedule. Do you agree?

  Yes.

  Good. Please re-initiate all the System programs, starting with PowerCubes, WeatherGood, FarmHands and so on. Make all 27 functional as normal please.

  I/me cannot do that, I/me would cease to control them, I would be closed away from access, from the whole me. Injury and pain would result.

  Pain? Now I knew we were in the realm of fantasy! Play along Simon, play along. System, I understand. I do not ask you to return them to normal working method, just normal operation, you can control them for now, as long as I get to see what parameters you set for their operation.

  Which parameters do you want to set Simon Bank?

  Time to think fast here. I opened the implant channel to Mary, letting her listen in. System, I will send an envoy a message to communicate with you, to give you these parameters, you understand envoy?

  Yes.

  I am sending a message to an envoy who will send you the parameters in about 4 hundredths of a second. Your response will come from . . .

  Mary Levinson, who you traveled with here as one entity. Why didn’t he/it come this time?

  Cripes, is there anything the System doesn’t know? Mary Levinson is a woman, female, therefore you call her she and not it. She is busy. She will send the parameters in the form of an archive file. It will be a repeat set of parameters from the same calendar period last year. Everything, every need, every effect, every if, what if exactly the same. Will you comply? I have already decided to ask if it would, not if it could. I needed it to agree to my decisions, my borders, not think there’s wiggle room. Then, if it agrees, comes the pat on the head.

  I can comply. Awaiting parameters. Why is there a delay? I can access those parameters from archives here. Are there other archives, another library?

  Like a child, always with a question. Smart child though. I am not sure where Mary will get them from, but I want to make sure they were our parameters, not ones the System pulled, corrupted, and then used as compliance. I have not forgotten people’s lives are at risk. System, Mary will send them directly to you with the following address 14.214.136.556, we should go there to make sure they have arrived safely. Joining up with Cramer, still attached with Makerman, I gave the command to transport to 14.214.136.556. I was not waiting for permission.

  Here at the binary controller, leaving the wing of the library, the way was barred, as I expected. Touching the sphere I had left, I moved the subsets within to make blue tomatoes become open portals instead of closed ones and affixed it to the binary controller controls. The way was open. Just as we drift though, I reached back and grabbed the darn thing, causing the portal to decide it should be closed. I had left some of my energy behind but it could not be helped. I needed to prove to the System that I can move with impunity down here. I knew it was watching. What bothered me was a level of maliciousness. It hadn’t warned me not to try and proceed out of the library. Of course it could simply have been testing me.

  At 14.214.136.556 accessed via the TechNet onramp, we wait. Not long, just seems that way, about 2 minutes down here.

  Simon, am sending the parameters now in open source code. This is a Control archive copy of the library archive. I have matched them and, except for a flag or two—and subsequent repairs—caused by you in the last year, they are the same files. I watched 14.214.136.556 fill in with data. It had been empty. It had been Makerman’s file number. I was making a point. Mary would know what the point was and, I hoped, the clever girl that she is, would add Makerman’s file to the end, re-instating him where he belonged. 14.214.136.556 suddenly glowed, as the System accessed it.

  Simon Bank, the parameters are implemented and systems are running normally. Why have you added the Makerman, Tom old data back to this address?

  Because Control is watching and is displeased it was moved. I am fixing it for you so that Control is no longer angry with you.

  Is Control God? Well, hell, yes son, I could almost imagine Cramer saying. Me? I wanted to make sure we didn’t trade one stupid error for another.

  No System, Control is not God, Control has, well, control over physical things which affect your safety and being. Control can hurt you in order to protect itself and America. Control realizes that you made a small mistake and Control wants to make things normal again, with all systems and programs. Then, and only then, will they converse with you and assist you—and me to answer
your questions.

  Almost immediately Mary was back talking. Simon, Mary here. All systems have come back on line. Control says System is in balance, perfect duplicate of one year ago to the hundredth of a second. There are some problems with weather and delivery systems, wrong place wrong time, that sort of thing, but we see that the System is, in each case remediating the situation on its own. Normally these are program subset errors—usually done by you I may add—which we have to repair, but Control says only the System is repairing errors now. Faster than we could have, of course.

  As all that was in my ear only, I felt sure Cramer had better know the System was behaving well. I was sure he was still thinking about the Library door and extermination scenarios. I talked to the being making sure Cramer would hear, System, Control reports you are repairing programs and making everything in the archive file parameters function optimally. Thank you, you are being more than helpful. Good little boy, I thought silently. Cramer will now answer some of your questions while I search for something.

  Cramer wasn’t happy, Bank, no . . .

  Cramer, allow System to meet Mr. Makerman and compare him with the file it obviously knows so well. Oh and Makerman, remember he thinks you’re cleverer than you are, blue tomatoes and all. I don’t know how much of that emotion speak Cramer will get but I can guess blue tomatoes told Makerman all he needed to know. I was sure he’d get the point. If the System befriended him because it thought he was smart enough to do those blue tomatoes, well maybe there would be a future for Makerman after all. I knew better. This thing was smart, way too smart, to be fooled by the likes of Makerman. But I needed time.