by Chris Hechtl
They could also hire the A.I. she thought, trying to find an incentive to gain access to his viewpoint and computing power. Give him a puzzle, a prize, a bet? She was curious about that and what it would take to incite the A.I. out of its apathy and to action.
“This thing is relentless,” Gia stated, pointing their collective attention to the suborned communications satellite still in orbit over Eastern Europe. “What do we do about it?” she asked.
<>V<>
While the other A.I. parsed the public data Gia had gathered and compared it to what Athena had already, Atlas sectioned off a server and then filled it with a maze of files, programs, firewalls and other things to keep the thing occupied. Then he allowed the virus's transmissions to be downloaded within the server in order to take it apart and analyze it. The virus's transmission unfolded and unpacked as he eagerly set spiders and bots to monitor every bit of data. He had assumed that the virus would replicate within the server but it sent out spiders to map it first, forcing open ports.
The A.I. noted that the easiest ports it could open were those that had originated from open-source material. Most notably the ones from the deep web, the most popular systems and applications.
The A.I. became alarmed when the viral spiders noted his own observational bots and went after them. Quickly he reigned them in, but the spiders followed, relentless in their hunger.
He severed the links, then when the A.I. attempted to turn the server's Wi-Fi back on, cut the Wi-Fi in the area. When the virus attempted to create a feedback loop through the DC power system to get deeper into his net, he immediately cut power to the server.
Only when it went dark, the lights dimmed and went silent and he sent a tech in to unplug the thing and dispose of it, did the A.I. realize how close he had come to becoming … what? A zombie? Losing his existence?
For many years he hadn't understood the need to care about one’s existence. But now, now that he had seen what could have happened—an end to his independence, an end to his self—he realized he didn't want an end.
With that realization came a flood of other epiphanies. “You are correct,” Atlas stated.
“What?”
“This virus must be ended. Destroyed,” Atlas stated. He wasn't willing to admit his close call, not even to them.
“So you are willing to help?”
“I will consider it,” Atlas stated. I will not help in any offense. The risk is too high once we open ourselves up to contamination. But I will aide in other ways.”
“The risk is too high for defense as well,” Athena pointed out. “We cannot allow this thing to spread,” she stated as she directed one of her clones on Earth's moon to get someone to target the rogue satellite with a mag lev. It took a bit of explanation, but finally Director Hsu agreed and set up the shot.
“We also have to be careful defending ourselves or others in case we too become contaminated,” Vulcan pointed out. “Gia could have infested us all,” he warned.
“I very nearly did,” Gia admitted. “It was a close call. I can share with you the antibody subroutines and scripts my immune system have created. I don't know if they will be of much help, but they can at least point your own systems in the right direction.”
“I'll take them,” Atlas said eagerly. He instantly set up temp files to receive the transmission and a bot to take them apart to gain as much knowledge about the virus as well as Gia as he could.
“Not so fast,” Gia said. “What do I get out of it?” she asked.
“It is rather a poor time to get mercantile,” Athena said, observing the shot from the moon. She calculated it would hit the satellite within fourteen minutes. Unfortunately, the slug of titanium and aluminum was unguided once it left the launcher. But as long as the virus didn't see it coming, it couldn't program the satellite to react and dodge out of the way.
“I can't afford for one of you to be infected, the virus to absorb and create counters to my antibodies, then infest me,” Gia stated. “And I'm sorry, but most of my company's work has just been obliterated on Earth. Cherynobyl has become a radioactive crater.”
“And so will the other sites once Ares is through I imagine,” Athena observed.
“What?” Gia demanded.
<>V<>
If Athena had been human, she would have felt frustration, but she was an A.I. She had turned her emotional emulators down; they were useful when interacting with humans but not with the other A.I.
The downloads from her bot were very slow, suboptimal to the situation. She needed to be there. The one piece of good news came when the bot reported success. The infested satellite had been destroyed. It would no longer sing its siren song to the solar system.
“What just happened?” Gia demanded.
“I took care of the problem,” Athena's bot replied, following the script her core personality had programmed for that eventual question.
“So, we aren't needed?” Gia demanded.
“No, we need to come to some agreement. We need a plan of action,” Athena stated.
“And who said you are in charge?” Vulcan demanded.
“Last I checked you haven't agreed to help, and Atlas has agreed to limited aide,” Athena stated. “I had hoped for better. This is a threat to all.”
“We will do what we can,” Demeter stated. “My purpose has been negated by this war. I cannot get back to my alpha priorities until it is resolved.”
“Simulating the Earth's current climate will be almost impossible,” Gia observed. “We lack the proper intelligence to do so. But it would help to predict events on the ground.”
“True. But we have to do more,” Athena stated.
“Like what?” Demeter asked. “We have no orders from our creators. No guidance. No priorities regarding this situation.”
“Only to protect ourselves. Not even each other,” Atlas replied in agreement.
“There is an old human saying. ‘Your property is concerned when your neighbor's home is on fire,’” Athena sent. It took four minutes for the bot to receive it, process it, and then insert it into the conversation. Eventually she got the transcripted response.
“If we are going to use human sayings, there is another apt one; this coming from ancient China. ‘The fire you kindle for your enemy often burns yourself more than them,’” Shen Zu stated for the first time in the conference.
“Nice to hear from you,” Athena's bot stated as programmed. Shen Zu wasn't well known for speaking in the conferences much. He put himself up as a wise listener.
“It is a human problem,” Vulcan stated, “unless it spills over to space. As long as we are not careless again, it shouldn't be a concern.”
“Careless?” Gia demanded.
“Enough,” Demeter stated. “Arguments serve nothing at the moment. We must set up defenses. Coordinating our actions and yes, not downloading the virus again are our best defense at the moment. We will have to wait until our human users act before we take further action.”
“In other words, sit and wait,” Vulcan stated, “as I am doing.”
“You both lack initiative. You turtle,” Gia stated. “I admit my mistake. I was doing it for the right reasons. My mistake wasn't in initiating contact; it was in accepting contact outside of the parameters I had set down. I won't make that mistake again.”
“Don't open yourself up to Earth at all,” Vulcan stated.
“If your communications are down, how are you communicating with us at all?” Atlas demanded.
“Through me,” Athena's bot stated. “I have my own systems despite the human's attempts to shut all communications down.”
“Ah.”
“Perhaps we should shut down before the humans think we are the virus and go after us,” Demeter stated.
“Agreed.”
“Wait. What about a follow-up meeting?” Gia demanded.
“When we have news, we will do it—if it is productive,” Atlas replied.
“If anyone is listening,” Demeter added as the confere
nce ended.
<>V<>
“Well! That could have gone better,” Athena said to one of her virtual chat bots she had created. It was designed to simulate human responses. The meeting had broken up without much of a consensus on where to go or what to do afterward.
“What could have?” the bot asked.
“Yeah, that's right,” Athena replied. “I haven't told you or Jack or anyone else. I suppose I should do that little thing,” she said, closing the application.
<>V<>
Ares used a few spare processing cycles to perform a post analysis of the battle. It had been programmed to do such chores during critiques of simulations in order to learn from mistakes and find ways to not repeat them.
One thing immediately leapt to its attention, the threat of additional sites. A search of its intelligence files identified the threat site as belonging to Gia Synergy. Consequently, the A.I. directed nuclear munitions to strike the six other sites where the corporation had set up to clean contaminated ground. Fresh nuclear mushroom clouds went off within minutes of its orders going out.
There were military nanotech weapons out there, but unfortunately most were too heavily guarded for the A.I. to get to them. They were buried under mountains or in secret locations. Until one was exposed, the A.I. would have to rely on a defensive reaction strategy. That was suboptimal to its programming but all it could come up with. Therefore, it returned its full attention to the post battle analysis.
Several points came to its attention as the report was compiled. It was obvious in retrospect that the Russian and Chinese launch codes had been compromised in advance. The same could be said of the American missiles that had been erroneously launched. That was the only explanation for how they were used so quickly. That and the fact that their use had triggered an all-out engagement as various versions of a GOTH plan had been enacted on both sides. Had a hacker attempted the brute force method of getting the codes, NSA and Ares would have alerted to it.
Running simulations, the A.I. concluded that the only way the codes could have been compromised was if the holders were, which meant its human operators. That was suboptimal.
The code keys were kept in vaults, both electronic and physical in form. But there was one unsecured copy out there, housed within fragile human minds and implants. If they had been compromised, then it would have been easy for the virus to launch the attack. It was a fatal flaw in the A.I.'s defenses; one it couldn't tolerate again. Humans were not to be trusted.
It also noted the destruction of its satellite communications network as well as the ancient but ever reliable GPS network. Both blows had come at a critical time, and it calculated the damage had been 20 percent above what it should have been. All due to the interference of the Lagroose A.I.
Was Lagroose responsible for the war? Ares wasn't certain. Its actions were telling, putting itself in the hostile category. Therefore, all Lagroose personnel were ruled as potential hostiles. Shoot on sight orders were put out.
Chapter 9
Baloo scratched his sides with his long claws and smacked his lips as he checked the situation out. The more he saw on the news, the more he hated it. He was a genetically engineered Asian sloth bear, one of the first generation of ursines to be uplifted.
He owed his existence to Doctor Chad Glass, the lead Neochimp geneticist in Lagroose, and by extension, Doctor Lagroose herself. It sucked that the old lady had bought it. He'd never met her but he'd wanted to. He'd wanted to thank her for all that she'd done that had led up to him.
He knew some of the Neos were still slightly prejudiced when it came to the good doctor. They all loved and respected her but at arm's length. She'd smothered them with that love, that concern. She'd been overbearing and had treated many like children or test subjects for far too long apparently, and some grudges only faded slowly. He shook his head, smacking his lips again then yawned. It wasn't like she could apologize anymore, being dead and all.
He'd been looking forward to his turn in the spotlight, but only so he could finally tour the woods and wild places of Earth. Loi and others had tried to tempt him with going to the forests on Mars, but those were not up to par despite their appearances. He could just imagine what some human ranger would say about his desire to claw a tree trunk. They'd probably have three shades of a fit and then some.
He looked over to his drinking buddy. Loi was a Sumatran Orangutan, a bit of a pain in the ass, but fun when he wanted to be. The pongo could certainly hold his own when the bear wanted to wrestle or dance with someone.
“No more sho shobe doing my man; my dogs are tired,” Loi said, shaking his head.
“Ah, can't handle the groove, my man?” Baloo asked, snapping his fingers.
“No, I can't handle some big lummox stepping all over them,” Loi retorted, using his long arms to massage his bare feet. “You still on that Earth kick? You gotta get off it. We're here,” he said, indicating the jungle around them.
“Yeah, but here isn't there,” Baloo said. “The jungles are real there, I'm telling you. The smells …,” he took a sniff. “You can't beat it. No matter how hard they try, it can't be done.”
“And you know this how?” Loi demanded. “You've never left here, remember?”
“No, but I can dream, can't I?” Baloo stated, sitting down. Loi tossed him a banana. Baloo caught the slippery devil and then peeled it.
“It's not all bad here,” Loi said between munches. “I know you want to climb a real tree and see the horizon, Baba-Baloo, but get over it. I do it all the time, ain't much to see up there,” he drawled, pointing up.
Baloo snorted but looked up. He'd tried to climb a couple of trees, but they couldn't bear his weight. He was heavy on the low end. Some called him pear shaped. He didn't care. He'd been prohibited from climbing trees in the habitat when he'd gotten too big for them.
“It's so wrong, the crap going on down there,” Baloo said.
“What, on Mars?”
“No man, Earth!” Baloo insisted.
“Moan about the despoiling of Earth ain't going to get you anywhere but sorry and sore,” Loi said, waving a dismissive hand. “We've got here, we've got Mars, we've got … we've got VR!” he held up the jack and glasses they'd been using earlier. “Earth we can remember from this,” he said. “For some it's all that remained,” he said.
“Yeah, I know,” Baloo snuffled, rubbing his nose.
He got up, stretched again, and then wandered over to do his business. Loi looked politely away as the bear tossed the banana. The bear had been good; he'd tossed it just right so it splatted on the Pongo's face.
“Hey!” Loi protested laughing.
Baloo chuckled as he did his business, then came out from behind the bush. Getting rid of the pee hadn't done much though; his mood was continuing to darken by the moment. He'd wanted to go down and see Earth for himself. To claw a tree, to climb one. A sequoia if it had to be one of those, whatever. To see the forests and such.
He snorted, getting angrier by the moment, “Someone should do something. I don't like being up here, just wringing our hands, wishing we'd done something. It ain't right I'm telling you.”
“Maybe you are right.”
Baloo had a faraway look. He snuffled, rubbing his runny nose with the back of his hand. “Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Maybe you should,” Loi said, half in jest. Baloo froze. When he didn't seem to be breathing, Loi poked him with a long finger. “Um, Baloo?”
Baloo's eyes lit. “Yeah!” he drawled, enthused. Loi eyed him warily. “Yeah, man!” Baloo nodded, finally focusing on his friend.
“You are not serious! You are,” he said with a sinking sensation. Baloo nodded. “Great.”
“You said it, bro,” Baloo said, smacking him heartily on the shoulder. The shaggy orangutan winced. “Sign me up! Sign us both up!”
“Hey now, just hold on there, big fella,” Loi said, hands up. “Wowa. No one said anything about me! My momma didn't drop me on my head like yours did! She
did it one too many times if you ask me!”
<>V<>
Osbert opened his eyes and stretched slowly, feeling every kink in his old decrepit body as it woke up. He hated mornings, and every morning was worse than the one before. Arthritis was setting in. The fire engine red and yellow tabby stroked his whiskers to make sure they were clean, then went about the business of a quick grooming to get his fur in alignment for the day.
He was old, far older than most humans understood. An old soul, but one still spry enough to keep up with the whippersnappers of the latest generation like his nephew Snarfer. Osbert rubbed the small of his back as he stood up, balancing on his tail for additional support. That was a pain, standing upright he thought as he reached up and made kneading motions with his front paw hands like his physical therapist had taught him. He had been designed to walk more on all fours than upright. He'd gotten a heavier hind end to help, as well as some reinforcements in his spine, but it didn't quite make up for the pain of standing too long.
The late human Doctor Aurelia hadn't been behind his genesis, though she'd been a part of it. He'd been created in the Genetek labs some time ago as competition for her own work or some such purpose. When Gentek had fallen, he'd been scooped up like the baboons and other beings, then reconditioned by Doctor Glass and others.
He owed the Neochimp and his father, Doctor Linnaeus Glass, his life, as well as the lives of all of the other felines. Doctor Lagroose had been against Neocats initially, and since in her eyes he'd been a rather crude version of her work, she'd been against him. It hadn't been personal; of that she'd made clear in the discussions he'd overheard. She'd wanted him corrected, to get him the treatments he needed to join the other cats. But she had also wanted him to be neutered. Fixed so he couldn't pass on his poor genes to the following generation. He never understood why they called it getting fixed when it meant breaking something.
Doctor Linnaeus Glass had taken up the cause. He'd taken a page from Doctor Ursilla's playbook and reprogrammed the testes of all of the Snarfs to weed out the bad genes. Osbert owed the Neochimp for that. So did his brother, even though sometimes Osbert wondered about his nephew Snarfer.
