by Ian Williams
“Yeah, OK, point taken. But you could say the same about an ant, yet we don’t suspect them of being self-aware. And they make colonies, though not as impressive as this I’ll concede. I still don’t see anything that suggests real intelligence.” Graham took another step away from the glass. He had seen enough for now.
“I have one more thing to show you,” Luke said stepping toward Graham. “I believe this will change your mind. Have you heard of The Turing Test?”
Graham shook his head, but he remembered Luke had mentioned Alan Turing earlier. So he guessed it was going to involve advanced computers or something on that subject.
“The Turing Test asks whether a person can correctly determine if they are talking to a machine or a fellow human,” Luke began. “Now, if we take the ability to communicate as sole proof of intelligent life. Then surely if this machine has already passed this test with ease, you would accept that they are in fact intelligent. Isaac met this criteria, did he not?”
“That’s my point really,” Graham said. “Isaac was, but they -” He said pointing to the glowing spire. “- they aren’t.”
Luke held out his hand. It was a strange time to have gotten over his dislike of physical contact. “Take my hand.”
Looking at the hand extended toward him with curiosity and a tiny amount of suspicion, Graham found it hard to comply. Such a small gesture of trust, yet in the manner with which it had been offered, it was hard to accept. “Why,” he asked with the suspicion becoming all too audible in the tone of his voice.
“Please, I insist. This is the only way I can show you.”
“Go ahead G,” Ruth said, her attempt to build his confidence far too obvious.
“Fine.” With the gusto he normally put into his handshaking, Graham reached for Luke’s hand. In his usual routine he looked straight into his new friend’s eyes and waited for their hands to touch. He was surprised and confused when that did not happen. Instead his hand swung through the air, not once making contact with anything. Had he simply missed? When he quickly investigated the problem he found nothing wrong. So he tried again, this time watching in disbelief as again his hand missed what was right there in front of him. “Oh shit!”
“No way,” Ruth called out. She clamped a hand over her mouth and instinctively stepped away from the apparition they knew as Luke. Stephen watched her reaction and copied it exactly. He had become her mimic.
Without even considering whether it would be rude or disrespectful in any way, Graham began waving his hand through Luke’s centre. He giggled like a child when his hand passed straight through the man standing right there. The only reaction was a small flickering distortion to Luke’s image – and an unimpressed look on his face at being used in such a way.
“As you can see, the evidence was standing next to you all this time. I came from the spire. I am a Sentient too… Will you please stop that now,” Luke suddenly said.
“He doesn’t like it when people do that,” Stephen added.
Graham instantly ceased the exploratory swings of his hands through Luke’s image. He felt a little silly to have reacted so excitedly, but it was the only way he could deal with such a profound revelation. If he had not gone this way, then he would surely have plummeted into a pit of despair instead. He had caught a lot of MARCs in his time at Simova after all. He dare not ask himself the question: could they all have become like Luke?
He searched for a definitive sign of intelligence, never once thinking he actually would find one. When all along he had been talking to it. An AI by his side and he had never realised. Elliot and Ruth had been right, MARCs were capable of becoming something far more than a nuisance corruption. This was the one piece of evidence he needed to become entirely convinced.
“This is insane, Luke,” Graham said. “You’re a MARC?”
“No, but many once were. Stephen has collected many in his time, perhaps a thousand or more. These were the first generation. The spire now contains nearer to ten thousand intelligent beings. I do not contain Isaac’s code. Those who do, however, now face a grave problem.”
“I can’t believe this is real. I mean, how could this all exist right outside the city and no-one knows about it? Hang on, how come we can see you?”
“Stephen and I had holographic projectors placed around the complex. We’d hoped others would want to explore it, as I have. Regrettably none do. This form is the one I chose. And for that I am shunned by my own kind. They don’t agree with my decision to involve myself with a human. In there,” Luke said as he pointed to the spire. “I have substance. Out here I do not, I am a holographic representation only.”
“We have to tell Elliot about this,” Ruth said. She had since moved much closer to Luke and was looking him over as if she were trying to find a fault in the projection. Without realising, she had begun to stare at him. Finding out just how far MARCs had gotten appeared as much a shock to her as it was to Graham.
Stephen wandered over to Luke and whispered something.
“That’s OK, Stephen, I’d already blocked their tablet before they came in. Thank you.” Luke smiled at his friend, then turned and walked back to the wall of screens. “I’m afraid we can’t allow that just yet. We know why you’ve come here.”
With a sudden look of guilt to Ruth, Graham had unintentionally given them away. The panicked expression on his face told the whole story, and asked for help at the same time. But Ruth had nothing to say in response. They had been rumbled.
“Please join me,” Luke called.
They left the large window behind and wandered over, neither wanting to take the lead. A steady stream of light still beamed into the room from the window. It scattered around, producing shadows that danced across the floor like hidden creatures lurking just out of view. Everything from the floor to the large cube was awash with a white glow that intensified each time another shock of electricity ran through the spire.
They passed Stephen, who watched the tower in awe. He now played a game with rules only he knew. From what Graham could see, the aim was to clap each time he saw the flashes. If he timed it right, it seemed he won. He enjoyed himself at least.
Ahead was still the same distinctively chaotic display of information, floating in front of the screens in no particular order. There was no time for them to play, Stephen was left to do so by himself.
The images all pertained to a part of Luke’s speech, from the angry protests to the farming tower designs. Though something that had since popped up in the centre screen was catching Graham’s eye and calling to him to investigate. He stopped approaching only when the screen was directly in front of him.
“What’s going on there?” Graham said, looking straight at the news feed coming in. It concerned an incident happening at a shopping centre. A faulty power relay and a large hole on its roof had him distracted. As well as a smoking problem, the relay was sputtering sparks from its structure that bounced around on the floor before fading to nothing. “Is that happening now?”
“This is what I was referring to when I said we have a problem. The people who forced you into finding us are currently holding that place hostage. That alone would not be of concern to me. It is what they are doing to the power relays, however, that is. Listen.” Luke faced the video feed and in response the display expanded the image to take up the whole of the centre screen.
With the sound added it became clear something very big was happening that Graham and Ruth had missed entirely. It was a news report coming live from the scene of the incident and the feed was from the ground. Every now and again the video would switch to a drone feed, which hovered in an oddly distant position.
The news reporter’s voice was being dubbed over the top of the video. “Once again, we currently have nothing on who is responsible for these attacks,” she said. “But there is no doubt remaining about the scale of it all. In almost every city in the UK, there are similar situations playing out. There is still no word on a plan to combat against them. The country
is under attack and there appears to be nothing authorities can do about it.”
Another reporter joined the conversation, this time from the studio. “Christie, can you tell us if there has been any word from the Simova spokesman at the scene?” the male news reader asked.
“We’ve had nothing more from them. When we asked their representative, a man named Kristof Rajco, he declined to offer any further information. It appeared he was under a lot of pressure.”
The video changed from the drone’s distant aerial shot to a clip of the many police officers on the ground. Suddenly losing the steady picture was difficult to adjust to at first. The camera operator was running through the crowd and heading for a lone man, with a 3D model of the shopping centre emanating from one of the tables next to him. The video jumped and jerked around until it settled on the man’s face, far too close to be at all comfortable.
“Can you tell those at home what is happening please,” the man operating the camera said. “Mr. Rajco? Mr. Rajco.”
“Get that -” The next word was beeped out, evidently he used profanity to rid himself of the press. “- thing out of my face.”
A hand was then shoved against the camera, blocking out everything but the sound of the fight that had apparently broken out between the men. If there was any more to the video, it was lost amid the brawl and drowned out by the crackle of the microphone.
“And have we seen exactly what the people inside the shopping complex are doing with these MARC corruptions? Reports from other news regions suggest they are catching them for some reason. Are they gathering them up? And if that is the case, then do we have any idea why?”
“Again, there hasn’t been any update on that…” the woman reporter began to say before the volume dropped away.
Graham and Ruth again looked to each other, unsure of how to react. The news had taken them by complete surprise. All this time Graham had thought their issue was all that mattered, when in reality something far worse was going on. Those who threatened to kill his friend, and quite possibly still could, had another much larger plan in motion. They were collecting all of the remaining MARCs? Stephen and Luke had been doing the same, though they did so without risking lives.
“As you can see, the problem is widespread,” Luke said. “I’ve lost hundreds of my own kind already, and those still here are terrified of a similar fate. They feel an overwhelming need to go to the relay at the shopping centre, like a moth to a flame. Sooner or later they too will be drawn away only to become part of Isaac. I tell you this because I think there is something we can do about it.”
“How can we stop that? It’s happening everywhere they said.” Graham felt himself panicking all of a sudden. He already found it difficult enough to take on board that this incident was happening in his city, now it was happening across the entire nation? That was far more serious. It meant the people responsible were not alone, they had help. Surely the danger had become much more extreme now. His mind still struggled to cope with his best friend being involved, now he would have to worry about Jane and Alex’s safety too.
At least Luke’s short history lesson had helped him grasp the real scale of the troubles facing them. He knew that whatever the people inside the shopping complex were planning, it was only a matter of time before innocent people were dragged into the mix. Then all hell would break loose across the nation. The riots and protests of twelve years earlier would be nothing in comparison to what would happen if they succeeded. During those a decade earlier the Simova network had still been operating – albeit intermittently. This time it would not be. Families would be caught in the violence for sure. His family along with them.
Something had to be done about it, and he hoped someone would soon step up to the job. But not them. He and Ruth had been through a lot to find The Sentient Collector and Elliot was still in danger.
“They’ve already gathered together a large portion of the remaining code,” Luke began to explain. “We have to stop them. I will not allow my kind to be destroyed. Nor should you with yours. So, will you help us, Graham?”
“Me? Seriously? I’m not sure what you expect me to do.”
“We have a plan,” Luke replied.
To Graham’s surprise he could not refuse. Knowing there was a plan changed things. They had obviously set the meeting up for this reason. There remained something they thought he could do to help. It would be an exchange then, he decided. There was something they could do for him too. He and Ruth sure as hell were not going to deal with the people holding hostages downtown anymore, which left them only one other alternative. “Fine. But I need some things in return,” he said.
“Yes! We’re all friends now.” Stephen clamped his arms tightly around Ruth. She laughed as she hugged him back.
“Name your price,” Luke said.
“Can you get the device off of Elliot?”
Luke nodded. “Of course.”
“Also, I want my family brought here? If there’s any chance we might fail then I want them safely out the way. Can you do that for me?”
“Perhaps Ruth could see to both while you help us?”
“I’m cool with that, G. You go,” Ruth said – still trapped by Stephen’s friendly embrace.
That’s that settled then, he thought. He would help keep Isaac dormant somehow. All that remained was to be told the plan. It would have to be a good one too, as the world now apparently stood precariously close to the cliff edge. One step closer and only a deathly plummet remained. Although where he fit in to Luke’s plan had him ever so slightly worried.
“So where do we start?” he asked.
“Simova. We’re going to break in to their building downtown,” Luke said with a sense of trepidation. Graham was just glad to see AI’s also felt such things.
Chapter 15
Storming the castle
Kristof readjusted the Velcro straps on his armoured vest; the one around his left side had been pulled far too tight for him to breathe properly. After that he felt ready for anything. He sucked in a lungful of evening air and savoured the smell of the city. This day was turning out great. If he played the game right then he expected he would soon be back in charge. If he could get at least one kill too, then his story would be that much sweeter. He expected his bravery would spur others on to act, following his lead of course.
His mind once again went over the new plan. The armed officers he had picked to go in with him had helped come up with one. Speed was the weapon that really won them the day, they had explained to him. Their entry needed to go perfectly if they had any hope of succeeding. The main concern was to have everyone where they were needed at all times. That included him too. It would be the first time he had ever done anything like this after all. So he concentrated on where he should be first.
“This is your weapon, sir,” an officer wearing the exact same chest armour as Kristof said – though the officer’s clothing was all black. He was not a member of the Special Forces, just a city cop with firearms training. Special Forces were too busy still. As usual the capital was the priority.
“Excellent,” Kristof replied, taking the rifle by the butt. He looked the weapon up and down, desperately trying to seem like he had any idea how to use it. He had been to a couple of gun clubs in his time – that and countless rounds of golf. Of course this was different; clay pigeons never fired back.
“Few things to know. This is called a Dilatant Gun. It’s a non-lethal weapon for the first hit, the second hit will knockout the target, but the third is lethal. So only hit a target three times if you’re sure he needs to die. This is the safety, yours is currently on. Just flick the switch down and you’re live. When you’re out of ammo press here to pop out the canister, like this.”
The butt of the weapon separated from the officer’s own rifle as he demonstrated the procedure, leaving the rest of it in one piece. He then pushed the canister back into place with a quick slap on the back. It clicked upon reconnecting and then beeped a couple of
times, until a green light lit up on the top of the weapon.
“OK. Anything else I should know?” Kristof said as he attempted to repeat the process of reloading. It was hardly pretty. Still, he got it done without fumbling and dropping the canister.
These weapons were very different to the ones he had used before. For starters these fired an unusual ammo, made predominantly of a gel-like substance that hardened under pressure. If he understood it earlier then three hits actually meant three splats of the gel. He intended on sticking to three hits, just to be sure. He was not about to risk his life unnecessarily. Besides, the rules were very much being ignored already. So killing rather than knocking out a terrorist was allowed in his mind. Good luck trying to arrest me for saving the day! he thought.
The Chief Superintendent had been very clear on how things were to be handled, and that had not included the raid Kristof was preparing for. No negotiating had happened, as those inside were still ignoring the outside world entirely. Rather than continue in such a slow and unproductive manner, Kristof had taken the initiative to act himself. He had quietly recruited eager officers to his ranks with the promise of instant and gratifying success. Each made it abundantly clear that they were looking for action, so he had taken them aside without his new superior knowing.
“Just do me a favour and stay at the back. I might not agree with you coming along, but I admire your enthusiasm. So stay back and let us clear the place. If you’re being shot at, by all means fire back, just make sure you don’t hit one of us.” The officer patted his armour down to check it was secure. He then did the same to Kristof’s, followed by a slap on his back. “You’re good to go.”
There was no going back now. Kristof had committed himself to joining the team going in. It had been a decision made as much by his heart as his head. Only now his stomach was interfering. He could feel it knotting and gurgling as a moment of doubt threatened to bring him out in a wash of sweat. He could only focus on what was coming to get over it, that way the doubts would be pushed to the back of his mind. It was exactly the same as any big speech he had given in the past. He knew how to cope with his nerves. He did not know, however, how to cope with the Chief Superintendent or his boss if either found out what he planned on doing.
