The Galactic Express

by Tobias Wade

  A few additional keystrokes caused Hallum’s avatar to pace mechanically in front of the wooden bench. The digital version would have behaved more naturally if Hallum had inserted the copper wiring into his own brain, but that was of course impossible given the danger of the virus. Hopefully his projected avatar wouldn’t be stiff enough to rise suspicion from the keen-eyed boy.

  “Fair enough, I’ll bite,” Tareesh said, uncrossing his legs and stretching casually before the looming Senator. “I am sorry about the virus, but I was only doing what the Morolox Energy Corporation told me. You do know how research is done, I assume?”

  “Test tubes…?” Hallum said vaguely. Realizing this might give the impression that he didn’t know what he was talking about, he judiciously added, “… and such?”

  “If there was anything left to learn from old fashioned experiments, then Morolox wouldn’t be the only company still inventing things. We don’t advertise this, but the only thing our labs do now is simulate intelligences and copy their homework. Well I had a few computers going, and I managed to get some simple cellular formations. So I left them to evolve a bit while I worked on other assignments. One of the lifeforms developed a rather unusual survival strategy however: instead of trying to overpower or outrun its prey, it learned to alter the program to provide itself with advantages. That process really took off when it figured out how to increase the speed of its own simulation. Those giant insects infested the whole virtual universe by the time I checked in with them again. Over countless generations, each incrementally improving upon the last, the Draiths mastered the ability to rewrite the code of their own existence and expand their access across my computer. They’d managed to reproduce nearly all the technology we have today as well as a number of novel space engines, and it only took them a few hours before I caught onto what was going on.”

  “Making something like that shouldn’t be humanly possible.”

  Tareesh shrugged. “As if humanity was the limiting factor, and not that which made everything possible in the first place.”

  “But at what point would you say the virus became intelligent?”

  Tareesh scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “I don’t understand the question. When is a pile a pile? The only thing special about Draith is that he is the pile that stacks itself. The more intelligent it becomes, the more ways it figures out to increase its own intelligence, and so on.”

  “Then why didn’t you turn it off? How did it escape from there?” Hallum kneeled upon the bench and strummed his fingers upon a bony chin. A nameless, unsettled feeling was beginning to grow in his chest. He’d never realized how closely dread and awe go hand in hand.

  “It sent an email, Senator. I know it looks like it came from my account, but I promise I’m not the one who wrote it.”

  “The virus emailed itself?”

  “Well, not exactly,” Tareesh confessed sheepishly. “Draith’s mind took a huge amount of power to run, and it was too large and complex to easily transfer over the network. Instead it emailed one of the engineers in the Cyber department, convincing him to download a copy and infect his own system, sir.”

  He must be telling the truth, Hallum decided, as it confirmed the suspicion he already had. His Galactic Express project had always been secure against external threats, and it could have only been smuggled in within the inorganic component of a Cyber’s brain.

  “How could a program convince someone of anything?”

  “It seems to have been a sort of blackmail, sir. I was looking into the matter, and Draith managed to steal some sensitive photographs from the engineer’s online backup system. It then threatened to release them to his contact list if he didn’t do as the virus demanded, and the engineer went along with it. As soon as I figured out what was going on I purged the Draiths from my computer, and from all the new cyber implants scheduled for release. One of the upgrades was missing by the the time I got there though.”

  There it was, the connection revealed. If anyone was going to receive special treatment and get an early copy of the latest upgrade, it stood to reason it would be Sali, Gamber’s daughter. Or perhaps, being the lowlife that Sali was, she merely stole the prototype. All that mattered is that she must have carried the infected hardware from there to his precious Galactic Express.

  “Does anyone else at the Morolox Energy Corporation know about this code?” Hallum asked.

  “No, sir. I thought I could handle it myself before anyone had to know, but I was arrested for tampering with the upgrades before I could track down the missing one. You know everything now, so please believe that I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Am I free to go now?”

  Hope glowed from Tareesh’s face when he asked the question. Every second of delay from the Senator stole a little of its shine. Hallum let the words hang themselves in the expectant silence, waiting until every bit of Tareesh’s optimism drained into sour despair. Only then did he finally reply with a slow drawl:

  “There’s more to being free than not being in prison, Tareesh. An obscure programmer like yourself—doing as you’re told, unrecognized for your genius, blamed for good intentions—do you really think that leaving this place will be enough to set you free?”

  “You want me to work for you instead,” Tareesed guessed at once. “We must be dealing with a fresh copy if the virus hasn’t realized it’s in a simulation. Whatever inconvenience it’s causing now is nothing compared to what would happen if it figures it out and escapes. If you offered to set me free, I might be convinced to help you destroy it before it’s too late though.”

  “You think I needed your help?” Hallum sneered. Of course he needed the help, but that was already bad enough without someone else knowing it. “Even if I did make use of your expertise, why should I believe you have the heart to destroy your own creation? Don’t you feel any responsibility for this digital mind that you’ve created?”

  “I saw what they did to the universe they infested,” Tareesh replied. “Prey don’t need to make plans like it does, they just need to react. Across all the simulations run from Morolox, the only sophisticated intelligences that ever emerge are from the predators: that which plans out the hunt and knows how to cut off escape routes before moving in for the kill.”

  “Are you saying your creation is evil?”

  “Worse. Evil will take your wallet, but Draith will make your wallet worthless by destroying the very concept of human values. If good and evil were on one side of the coin, Draith would be on the other. You wouldn’t doubt my resolve if you knew how dangerous the Draiths really are.”

  “I wouldn’t be wasting my time with you if I didn’t appreciate how much damage it could cause. There are no limits to how far an auto-poetic program can go.”

  “Then we have a deal?” Tareesh leaned forward eagerly. “You’ll never destroy the thing by trying to alter the code of the existing system. The virus will be watching you, anticipating your strategy before it’s ever complete. I can help you imbue the antivirus capabilities within a new avatar before connecting them though. I have some things I’ll need back in my lab, so you’ll need to ask the Morolox Energy Corporation to retrieve them for me…”

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Hallum cut in. “You’re in no position to set any terms.”

  The boy’s distinct lack of terror was starting to get on his nerves, although perhaps it was the nature of the virus itself making Hallum so flustered. This is not how he was expecting this conversation to go. The Senator self-consciously double-checked to make sure his digital mustache was still in place.

  “Don’t bother trying to threaten or force me without giving something in return. The only influence you have over me is my life. The influence I have over you goes much, much deeper than that.”

  “What nonsense is this?” Senator Hallum asked, his annoyance sharpening his tone. “What could possibly be more important than your own life?”

  “If you don’t understand that, Senator, then
every lowly criminal who escapes your simulation already knows more than you.”

  The darkness was bleeding from the sky in the pale pre-dawn. It was too early for the sun to sneak its way through the tangled jungle, but there was another light burning a path between the stars. A raging spark smoldered against the horizon as it dropped through the atmosphere. It was gone as swiftly as it appeared, extinguished somewhere in the depths of the endless jungle.

  “Did you see that?” Sali asked, pausing to catch her breath as she stared into the distance. A gentle tremor under her feet felt like a whispered reply.

  “Maybe the Galactic Express fell out of orbit,” Ramnus said, massaging his meaty thighs with both hands. The heavier gravity here was taking a hard toll on him, and his slumped posture like a melting marshmallow made him appear considerably shorter and less threatening than he had in space.

  “The chances of it falling this close to us on a planet this size is pretty slim,” Sali reasoned. “My money says it wasn’t an accident.”

  “The Mother bugger,” Ramnus said with awe. “We’ll be eaten, aren’t we?”

  “We be eaten hearty, you mean,” Sali said, butchering her way through a poor imitation of Harris’ provincial accent. She’d intended to break the tension, forgetting for a moment that she’d already left him behind like the others. Ramnus cocked his head to the side, uncomprehending. If his mind was a construction site assembling a thought, then the project was vastly over budget and far too late. It was no use—the levity in her voice was strangled by the gloom of the dark and alien jungle.

  “Never mind him,” Sali added quickly. “It’s a good thing if the giant creature has arrived. Now we really will have a chance to retake the Galactic Express while it’s looking for us down here. You sure you know where the pods are being kept?”

  “We be eaten…” Ramnus pondered aloud. “But the buggers are the ones doing the eating, and we’re the ones being—”

  “I said never mind. I’m counting on you, Ramnus. Focus.”

  “Right, sorry. This way, little Halzey. I’ll take care of you.”

  Ramnus took a few plodding steps in a few different directions before settling where to lumber off. Ramnus had probably been a large enough baby that he’d learned to lumber before he’d even walked, and he’d only learned how to hit the ground harder ever since. Sali winced as each booming step splashed through the surrounding jungle. Anything listening would surely deduce that either they were trying to escape, or an elephant had gotten loose and learned to tap dance.

  “I don’t need taking care of,” Sali grumbled, frustration rising at her body for doing such a poor job of regulating its anxiety. “And don’t call me Halzey, that’s just my mother’s name. If she was here, she’d be the one painting her face and trying to get everyone to do what she says. No—even worse than that. I bet she’d be opening up a shop and trying to sell the villagers to the Draiths, charging extra for the limited supply.”

  “I don’t think the Draiths even use money. What would they do with it?”

  “Duh, not literarily. I just don’t like hearing that name, okay? She always made me call her Mrs. Halzey, even when I was a kid. Apparently ‘mommy’ isn’t being respectful, and god forbid her employees think less of her because a four year old isn’t playing office politics. Do you know what it’s like for a kid who has to attend staff meetings just to see her own mother? And even then she wouldn’t talk to me—she’d make me submit questions in writing and wait for her secretary to get back to me, just like everyone else.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure she missed you very much since you’ve been gone.”

  “Geez, just let me vent a little steam, would you? You don’t know her. She’s only ever mastered one thing, and that’s how to make people feel bad about themselves, no matter how good life gets. The worse they feel, the more they’ll pay to upgrade themselves, that’s her logic. Mrs. Halzey is everything that’s wrong with Pria, and she certainly shouldn’t be defended. What is it about men, always feeling like they have to argue for the wrong team whenever they hear a story? You don’t question the narrator. As if it’s got anything to do with you.”

  “Yes ma’am. I believe you.”

  Ramnus put on a little extra speed, signifying that the weight of the extra gravity was still less than the burden of this conversation. Sali had no trouble keeping up though, as there are few fuel sources in the known universe as potent as resentment. As they went she felt herself becoming helplessly enthralled by every petty, mean, or simply indifferent remark her mother had ever made in her direction. It was the indifference that hurt the most, usually demonstrated by Gamber not even looking in Sali’s direction. She’d just stare down into the screens imprinted upon her reading glasses, perched low upon her sharp nose.

  “Do you really believe me? Or are you just pretending so I shut up about it? You can’t argue that men have it good, when they’re allowed to kick and scream and shout all they want because they’re ‘just being tough’. But if a woman as much as raises her voice, then it’s her fault for—”

  “You’re getting worked up over nothing. I didn’t blame you for any—”

  Sali didn’t even try to suppress her annoyance anymore. Anger was such a cleaner feeling than dwelling on her guilt over the ones she left behind. Unknown to her, a self-help book had already been written on the topic called: Why blame yourself when you can blame everyone else? The book even reached #1 on Pria’s bestseller charts for a short duration, until the fanbase was suddenly devastated after a disagreement at one of the conventions caused the crowd to trample itself to death.

  “I’m not ‘worked up over nothing’,” Sali seethed. “She’s selfish, and mean, and close minded, and she could have bailed me out, you know. She’s worth like a bazillion marks. She could have paid the fine for me without emptying her purse. And then I’d still be home, logged in and minding my own business, trying my best not to piss anybody off.”

  “What are you mad at me for? I’m only doing what I was told!” Ramnus whined.

  Sali gave a short puff of frustration, shaking her head. “You’re right. I’m sorry—I’m done. I’m not mad at you—I’m just mad while facing you, and you just happened to get caught in the blast. And what’s even the point anymore; that was all twelve years ago. She’s never going to change, and she couldn’t change me, no matter how much she tried. I might as well forget that she ever existed at all.”

  “It’s not right, remembering your dear old mother that way.” Ramnus sighed. “I wasn’t planning to tell, but you should know that she never expected you to be sent on the Galactic Express, Sali. She never wanted you to be hurt.”

  “Yeah? How do you know?”

  “Because she wouldn’t have sent me to watch out for you if she didn’t care. Now hurry up, we’re almost there.”

  Ramnus plodded ahead, all of his attention firmly fixed on breaking through the undergrowth.

  “Mrs. Halzey what? Wait, what? Hey wait up! You’re shitting me, right? What crime got you sent here, anyway?”

  “Didn’t do nothing at all. Technically, I’m still on the clock, working for security at the Morolox.”

  “The Humanists wouldn’t arrest an innocent person. Try again.”

  “If there’s a price for a guilty person going free, there’s a price for an innocent person going in. Your mother didn’t want me to tell you, but I don’t see much point in keeping it quiet way out here. Mrs. Halzey thought you were only going to get a month or two, enough to learn your lesson for stealing from her. We were supposed to share a cell, and I was supposed to keep you safe. Guess even old Gamber can’t plan for everything, huh?”

  “That son of a bitch.” Sali fumed. “She could have bought me out, but instead bought you in. It’s stupid, and wrong and unfair, but that actually sounds exactly like something she would do. And I wasn’t even stealing! I was just trying out one of the new upgrades before it went to market. I was going to have it back before it ever got
shipped off, what’s the worst thing that could have happened?”

  “It doesn’t sound so bad to me,” Ramnus agreed.

  “Is that why you let Eisen go back? And Tareesh… have you been trying to keep me safe this whole time? My mother had no right to put you through something like this. If anyone deserves to be mad, it’s you.”

  “People deserve to be happy, but nobody deserves to be mad,” Ramnus said. If his hands hadn’t been busy working through the undergrowth, then he doubtlessly would have been stroking his rich white beard, because what’s the point of even having a beard if you don’t stroke it while saying things like that. “It’s not what I signed up for, I’ll admit, but I’m still glad she sent me. I’ll be a lot more useful to you here than I would be making sure you don’t get pushed around in a cafeteria somewhere.”

  “Woah, okay,” Sali said thoughtfully. “I wish I could think like that. You aren’t hiding any cyber upgrades in that big white head of yours, are you? Because if you do, I want that one installed.”

  Ramnus laughed with good nature. “No upgrades on me, no thank you. But I did keep a diary where I only wrote about the good days. If I forget the bad ones, then so much the better. There are easier ways to change your mind than with a drill. But I’ll be counting on you to fix up the pod and get us out of here.”

  A break in the tree line revealed a clearing with a small mountain of debris. Empty cylinders, broken glass, scrap metal, and mounds and mounds of dirty electronic gadgets piled up like a graveyard for robots. They were far from the first pods to rain down onto this alien world. There were even a few long neglected spacecraft here, now so rusted from the humid air and infested with growth that they were hardly distinguishable from fallen trees. Had any of their passengers ever figured out a way home? Was there no fate for them beside death, or a long descent into madness like the other survivors?