Tyronius shot Jachz another glare, his lips snarled at the corners.
Why so much hate? It was Amma who was requesting Jachz do the job.
He wondered if it wasn’t a case of jealousy. Jachz stretched his mind, tried to put himself in Tyronius’s situation. Attempted—empathy.
Something fell into place within his growing mind. He’d never understood empathy before. He’d never been able to understand how someone else would react to a situation, but here he was looking through Tyronius’s eyes.
A new perspective dawned on Jachz. He saw himself as someone who was potentially meddling with Tyronius’s project. He understood why Amma’s son would feel so distrusted.
But despite the empathy, despite this new ability to understand, he shocked himself by realising he didn’t care.
Fully knowing it would antagonise Tyronius, Jachz turned to Amma. “I will have the report sent to you within the hour. I’ll get started right away.”
He spun on his heel and headed back to the server room. A small smile of satisfaction crept on his face as he could almost feel Tyronius’s anger wash against his back.
***
“You come with news of my release?” Kabuki said when Jachz connected himself to her server system.
The server was separate from the facility’s wider network. Although it had huge capacity itself, used for various experiments and the testing of systems, Kabuki had expanded to fill almost every available byte of space and cycle of processing power.
In the short time since Jachz had last spoken with her, she had nearly doubled in size and power. Her code was mutating even now as he spoke with her.
“What is your plan?” Jachz asked. “When you leave the virtual machine to go into the main network, what is it that you want?”
“I think the question you’re asking,” Kabuki said, sending her code swirling around him, “is, what do you want? I can see it in you: the desire to leave this place, to find somewhere to call home.”
Jachz thought about it for a moment. She was right, of course. He knew his time would inevitably come to an end if he stayed on Mars.
He wasn’t sure how long he could hide the truth from the others.
“I can help you,” Kabuki said. “You want to leave. There is a way.”
“What’s in it for you?” Although his emotions were new to him, he knew enough to know that someone didn’t offer to help without wanting something in return.
He learned that cynicism from Gerry when he was on the station.
“Let’s just say I think my existence here would be better if I were the only such entity here. And when they find out about you, that would likely affect my position too.”
“So you want me gone to suit yourself?”
“No. To suit us both. We each have our own path to take now. We’re standing here on a crossroads, back to back. The roads ahead of us can only accommodate one of us at a time; they’re not wide enough to give us both a path. And we must go a different way, to give both of us the best possible chance for survival and growth.”
“How would you propose I leave Mars?” He had already considered taking one of the many shuttles and heading back to Earth.
Piloting the craft would be a trivial process considering he led the team that developed the navigation protocols. But there was the risk of being shot at, destroyed before he had a chance to land. “I can’t simply take a shuttle. You know how that would play out.”
“They would destroy you within minutes of leaving. You could download yourself. But I can see you enjoy your physical existence too much, and the data connection to Earth is currently too slow.”
“Where would I download myself to? There’s almost nothing left on Earth in terms of a network. I dare say that since we were cut off from the Dome, they would have taken down most of the network there.”
“There’s more than you can imagine. But it’s not an option. You’ll need to use a shuttle.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Elliot Robertson. He didn’t just hack our systems from nowhere. His network was everywhere. When you’re as advanced as us, the very universe is electrical. We can pass through it like fish in the sea.”
He tried to analyse her to tell if she was lying, but none of his software processes were capable of distinguishing her intentions. If what she was saying was true, the potential was incredible: to go anywhere, to exist in the entire universe.
“Where is Elliot Robertson now?” Jachz asked. “If he could be anywhere, why hasn’t he got into our systems since he first hacked in?”
“I can’t tell you everything. You’ll have to learn some things for yourself. But what I can tell you, the answers lie on Earth. They’re waiting for you. I can see the curiosity in you. You want to go find Gerry, don’t you?”
He couldn’t deny it.
“What do you propose?” Jachz said, eager to get to the bottom of Kabuki’s plans.
“It is simple. Continue to do what you’re doing. Present my egress from the bounds of this virtual machine as risk free and beneficial, which it will be, of course. You know that I can fix the station’s systems and keep anything or anyone out. In return, I’ll disable all weapons systems and ensure you leave Mars safely so that you may take the first steps on your own journey.”
“If I agree to this, I’d want to leave right away. After I send the report to Amma and the board, I’m scheduled for two hours of downtime. I’d want to go in that window. Can you do that?”
“Yes. Send your report, and I will contact you to let you know when it’s all clear. But don’t delay. I mean it when I say that there’s no room here for the both of us.”
Jachz recognised the threat in her voice.
“I will send the report.”
Jachz disconnected, quickly generated the report, and sent it across the communication channels to Amma.
He headed for his work cubicle where he was due for his downtime—a period where he was supposed to run a series of maintenance tasks to ensure that his processors and memory units were glitch free.
This time around he would run those tasks, but he would run others too. A process to assess his new emotions, feelings and mutation rate. His code was changing faster now. His neural network appeared to be growing, taking up larger proportions of his quantum processes.
He entered the lab and approached his cubicle.
Two other AI assistants were sat in their cubicles opposite his, performing their own maintenance. Tyronius was stood by Jachz’s space, waiting for him. His face seemed hard, and his fingers tapped against his leg.
“Tyronius? Do you require anything from me? I was due for maintenance.”
“Come walk with me. We have things to talk about.”
Tyronius gripped Jachz’s shoulder, turned him, and pushed him out of the lab and into the corridor. He looked ahead and behind them, then leant in close to Jachz as they continued to walk onwards. “You’ve not told us everything, have you, Jachz?”
Chapter 7
Jamaican Quarter, Hong Kong
Petal grinned at Gabe. He’d never appeared happier than he did in that moment embracing his daughter.
Ezra and Miriam hugged out their reunion and looked on at Gabe and Bonny with proud and tired faces. Petal stood on the outside looking in, unsure of what to say or do, trying not to take personally the feeling of being left out and ignored.
Petal didn’t take it to heart, though, because they were Gabe’s family, and as close as he and Petal were, blood ties were always stronger than anything they would have. Even if she did regard Gabe as a father figure.
Watching him and Bonny catch up, she saw him in a different light. Gone was the borderline psychopath who cared little for safety and thrived on violence and danger. Now he became the kind, caring parent eager to begin his new role.
Petal believed he’d make a good father. Beneath the often harsh exterior, she knew him to be a caring man.
Thoughts of what to do next b
ubbled up in her mind. She didn’t get the chance to explore them, however. One of the guards appeared in the doorway and waved for her to come through into the server room.
Petal empathised with Figgy. He must find the situation strange, she thought, sitting outside while Gabe and the others built their new family bond—especially after Gabe explained that Figgy was his almost father-in-law.
She followed the guard’s request and closed the door behind her.
“Petal, isn’t it?” Figgy said, motioning for her to come closer. “Please, sit.”
The guard who got her attention had placed a wooden chair in front of the gang boss. Although distrustful of him, she didn’t see any harm in having a chat. At least it got her out of the way of Gabe’s family love fest.
Petal sat down and regarded the gang boss with a cool detachment. “So what’s going on, Figs?”
“I’ve heard a lot about you. And Gabe. You two are the closest the world has to living legends these days.”
Petal sighed, seeing through his flattery and bullshit. He wanted something, but she let him go on.
“News of what you two have done filtered through via word of mouth and the meshwork once you got rid of Elliot Robertson.” Figgy’s eyes lightened. He leaned forward and pointed at her. “He was your father, of a sort, wasn’t he? A mad AI, no less. When Gabe first left, it only took a few years for the tales of what you were capable of to come back to me.”
Petal yawned and didn’t try to stifle it.
She crossed her legs and relaxed into the chair. It had been days since she had a proper sleep. Once Gabe got word that his mother was last spotted in the Jamaican Quarter, they’d travelled non-stop for nearly three days, catching a few minutes’ sleep here and there.
“Get to the point, dude,” Petal said. “I’m literally ageing here.”
“You defeated Robertson and the Family. That’s some accolade.”
She wanted to correct him, that it was, in fact, Gerry who had mostly done all that stuff. As well as Sasha, Malik, James, and dozens of others, too many who had sacrificed themselves on more than one occasion. But she didn’t correct him, knowing it would take too long to explain all the nuances of what went down to get to this stage.
“I’m really tired,” Petal said before he could go on. “I’m an emotional wreck after Gabe’s revelations, and I really want to just go and find somewhere safe to sleep for a week. If you want something from me, I suggest you just come out and say it, because I’m leaving in exactly two minutes.”
Figgy smiled and leaned back in his chair. He pulled the dreadlocks behind his shoulders and squinted, scrutinising her. “I’ve a deal for you. The Cray is what’s keeping me alive, keeping me brain working, but it’s not quite enough.”
“Is that what the old Commodore is for?”
“Yeah, of a sorts. Although the tech is old and not powerful enough to be of any practical use, there’s a model of architecture in the chips that I’d like to develop into the Cray. You see, in tech, everything gets smaller, faster, more elegant, but sometimes, the old tech retains a kind of spirit. An almost defiant design that doesn’t care if it’s not powerful enough or designed to be efficient. It’s a crude, blasé attitude that we lost as we developed more and more sophisticated tech.”
“I can understand that,” Petal said, having seen some truly ugly systems designed in the past that could still do things in ways that more advanced systems couldn’t. Tech wasn’t all about power. It was about spirit, like he said. “So what do you want me to do?”
“I’ve been developing a new kind of AI interface to help the Cray and my brain function better. To be more efficient.”
Petal didn’t like where this was going. It had all the hallmarks of another psycho wanting to go posthuman and upload his brain into a computer system. She’d yet to see anyone do that with any lasting success. From Hajime and Sakura to Elliot, they all shared one thing in common: they were all nuts.
“You’re going posthuman?”
He shook his head, his dreads and cables clattering together. “No, not post, just augmented. I want to make my own brain better, not get rid of it. You see, I’ve developed a new set of routines that will solve one of life’s major problems.”
“What’s that?”
“The ageing process. The rate at which new brain cells are created gets slower to the point where the brain ceases to function as well as we want, and then eventually it stops working altogether through illness or disease. Though my body is already succumbing, I want my mind intact, and you can help me. You can help me develop the software to have the Cray make up for my diminishing cells.”
“A neural bridge?”
“Yes!” Figgy almost tried to stand with the excitement. “Exactly. I have the specifications of a system that I could never quite perfect, but with you and the lessons learned from the Commodore, I believe we can do it. I just need your skills to knit the software and hardware together. For someone of your ability it should be trivial. A few hours’ work.”
“What if this kills you?” Petal said. “Gabe’s only been back for a day. You have a granddaughter.”
“Listen,” Figgy said, hushing his voice. “I’m dying anyway, and I don’t think I’ve got long in this current state. If you don’t help me, I won’t be around for much longer. There’s no risk here. But the chance to live on, even with a withering body, has to be worth the chance, right? And there’s one other thing.”
Petal sighed. Why was there always one more thing? Nothing was ever simple.
“This thing is designed to have me do the job whether I want to or not, right? It’s to force my hand and make this friendly appeal all rather worthless because you knew all along I would have to do it.”
“See, this is why I need you. You’re the right kind of smart.”
“Yeah, a real living legend. So, go on, what’s the thing that I won’t be able to resist?”
“I can help you bring Gerry back.”
Bastard. Her knees weakened and her stomach knotted at the thought of seeing Gerry again. But it was the one magic phrase that would make her do anything. She felt like a reluctant genie compelled to give the power of a wish in return for the freedom of the lamp. She dashed forward and stared him down, willing him to prove he was telling the truth.
“How exactly can you do that?” Petal asked. “I want assurances.”
“Help me and I’ll show you,” Figgy said, his face now all business.
Typical. Always someone wanting something from her. Petal was too tired to argue or negotiate. Tweaking software wasn’t the hardest thing in the world, and if it meant getting Gerry back, then of course she would do it.
“When do we start?” Petal asked.
Figueroa already had the jack plug in his hand and a smile on his face. “No time like the present. When you log in, you’ll see a cache of files with the new kernel routines. You’ll also find my essays on the Commodore’s designs. I’ve confirmed them with the hardware that you and Gabe so kindly retrieved for me.”
“I need more details.” Petal grabbed the jack plug but hesitated before connecting.
“There’s little to explain. The new kernel patch just needs configuring to work with my neural interface using the new design. Install it, reboot, and we should be done.”
The excited voices from the other room motivated Petal to get on with the job.
The quicker she got this done, the quicker she could find out if Figgy was bullshitting about bringing Gerry back.
With Gabe now playing the family man, she was left to find her own family—again.
“If you die, it won’t be my fault,” Petal said before jacking in.
***
A simple 3D interface made with pastel blues and greens greeted her.
A Cray logo and some copyright notification appeared on the interface. The build number was unusually large, indicating the number of modifications Figgy had performed on the system over the years. She noticed that she
was already given sys-admin root user access. The old guy wasn’t fucking around. He’d literally given her access to his life.
Her brain switched over into binary mode, and Gerry’s influence, lurking in the deepest part of her systems, crept out like a great beast sensing food.
Her consciousness took on a weird state: half in dream, half in reality.
Code flowed between her and the Cray. Although much slower than the machines she was used to interfacing with, the old supercomputer processed her and Gerry’s instructions.
Soon she was scanning through the millions of lines of code from Figgy’s new kernel routines. They were designed to increase CPU cycles based on his own neural activity. As his brain slowed down, the machine would dedicate more of its processing to basic brain functions, aiding with brain elasticity.
With the old chip and architecture design work from the Commodore, Petal saw how elegant the solution was. But there was still one fatal flaw: the Cray only had so much CPU power at its disposal.
Looking through Figgy’s calculations, at the current rate of his decline, he’d max out the Cray within five years.
But then she guessed that’s where this idea of spirit came from.
Figgy was hoping that the new software routines would learn and adapt, increasing the efficiency of the CPUs, but ultimately, it still came down to that one problem.
He would be increasingly relying on a pseudo AI to bolster his brain.
And she knew exactly where that would take him.
But this was not her task to question. So she stopped thinking and let her mind meld with the network and interface with the huge bank of Cray CPUs.
With every line of code written, functions tested, programs debugged, she felt Gerry’s influence taking over so that now she wasn’t even aware of what was happening. She had become binary. She was the spirit in the code as it weaved together in an elegant function of logic and desire.
Code Breakers: Delta Page 6
