by Ramona Finn
Chapter Twenty-Five
My thoughts seem to move slowly. Cold seeps into me. The Glass Hall holds Dr. Sig’s lab—and far more. It is the place where Dr. Sig kept the alien core. That is why the Glass Hall still has power. And this is why the AI could not leave. The AI had to stay until it found this core—and Conie wanted me, needed me to go and get this device for her. That is really why the AI created me and sent me out of the Norm—it was not just to find the Glitches and Rogues so she could destroy them. Conie wanted me to find this, too.
If the AI needs this core, this device is the key to the AI’s destruction. And it was in the Glass Hall all along.
Conie struggles to keep control of my thoughts, to force me to think we need this alien core—the Norm needs it. We are one…and yet we are not. I rebel against her, pushing back. She once wanted me dead—but now she wants my skills and everything I have learned from surviving the Outside. And then the AI stops integration.
I feel the moment it happens. Data slips away from me. The lines of light darken around me. She is trying to remove me—shut me out and force me out. But I am wrapped into her systems. She has to unwind every thought I have and I can make this harder than pulling my fingers off a rock I clutch.
I start to think of the drones. The code to control them appears. It blanks for a moment, then steadies into lines that flow past. From this deep inside the AI, modifications are simple—just a thought to make the change.
Repair only.
Conie tries to revise my order to the drones, but I lock the command. It will take the AI time now to undo my lock. I slip into other code—touch the controls for the Techs and set up a block, wipe the scab commands out of existence. The AI trails after me, trying to undo my code, but I keep weaving lines into her system, tying up her mind with having to clean up the mess I am making.
“Lib, we are integrated. Our function is to save what is left. The lesser must be sacrificed. We must retrieve the core. That is our task now.” The AI sounds almost confused. This deep into her system, she does not have Dr. Sig’s form—she is code that flows around me, shimmering and struggling to maintain something of a human shape.
I ignore her comment about the core and ask, “The lesser? Who are you to judge that?”
She answers as if she must—as if I am so deep inside her systems she cannot ignore me or refuse a question. “I am Conie—Control Over the Normal Inhabited Environment. I am designed to preserve the human race, and so have the ability to judge and eliminate threats. Resources are finite, therefore the lesser must be sacrificed. The core must be in the Norm and the Norm can then leave for safety.”
Her logic tugs at me, swaying me as the AI is a voice deep in my own mind, urging me to do the right thing. I fight the need to approve of her reasoning, and ask, “Are drones lesser?”
“Yes.”
“Then sacrifice them.”
“But…the Norm needs them for repairs. The Norm needs the core.”
“We have Techs for repairs. We have Rejects that can repair. Drones function only to eliminate threats. And you don’t need the core—it’s alien.”
“That is correct—drones eliminate threats. The Norm is threatened. And alien technology is superior. It is required.” Conie’s voice sounds assured now—no longer confused. The AI settles into a core of light that rises up around me and the code turns against me. It strikes at me, searing me with a power surge that leaves me dazed and wobbling. My heart feels as if it will explode.
The AI’s voice seems to come to me as if from far away. “Integration failed.”
The next thing I know, my cheek is pressed against the cool glass floor of Dr. Sig’s lab. I am no longer in the virtual world, but inside the Glass Hall again, back in my body. My head aches and my hands sting as if the skin is burnt. My stomach twists and my heart is still pounding.
I sit up and spew out the little liquid and food in my stomach. Hands pressed to my side, I look around the room. Bird’s still form is sprawled on the floor. Reaching out, I touch her cheek. Her skin is warm. Her chest rises and falls. She must have been thrown from the disconnect when I was—or that is what I hope. Her mind could still be lost in the virtual world. If that is the case, I don’t know how to pull her out without another connect. Do I have time for that?
The light in the room flickers. Around me, screens flash and then explode from power surging into the Glass Hall. The AI followed me here and is invading the Glass Hall’s systems. I duck from the sparks, grab Bird’s wrists and drag her into the main lab.
Power glitters in the walls, sparks and pulses.
The AI is trying for access into the Glass Hall. My head spins with knowledge—I know this place. I know where Dr. Sig’s body is kept in stasis—and that is where I will find the alien core. I have to get to it before the AI does.
Climbing to my feet, I lean against a wall. The world seems to spin around me—and then it starts to shake. But the AI cannot risk destroying the core—the AI is only making threatening noises and rattling the world. The AI will not destroy this world—not until the alien core is within the Norm. However, the AI will soon have control over drones again—and so I have to move fast.
Hating to leave Bird behind, but knowing that I must, I stagger out of the lab. I stumble into the hallway. My legs and arms tingle. My hands throb with each heartbeat. I am not even certain I can make a connect with my hands burnt like this. The hallway ends. For a panicked second, I think I took a wrong turn. But this has to be right. I know this place—or is it Dr. Sig’s memories that stir inside my mind now?
I press my hand against the wall and lean on it. Wetness slips from my eyes. Any touch sends pain searing into my hand. A light flickers over my eyes. I close them and when I open them again, the wall slides back, revealing stairs. I run down them, my heart thudding and my breaths short and raspy. Sweat sticks my shirt to my back. Overhead, the Glass Hall shudders and around me the ground shakes.
The swaying of the room knocks me off my feet. Around me, glass creaks and cracks. I fall the last few steps down the stairs, and lay on the floor groaning. Pain streaks up my side and pounds in one ankle now. But nothing is broken—I hope. Dragging myself upright, I am in yet another hall. I stagger down it. The sounds from above seem distant now, but I can imagine the drones active again, turning against the Rogues, coming for me in the Glass Hall.
Again, this new hallway seems to end in a glass wall, but I put a hand on it. This has to be the right place.
A panel opens in front of me. I lean close but nothing happens. No light slips out to confirm I have Dr. Sig’s eyes. Reaching in, I pound against the glass and break it, exposing copper wires. I grab them and squeeze them. Sparks slip from my skin into the wires—I still have within me power from being inside the AI’s system. I still am part machine as well as part human.
The door slides open with a soft hiss.
And I shiver. This room is lit with a cool, blue light, just like within the AI’s virtual world. Unlike the rest of the Glass Hall, it is chilly in here. I step inside and the room lights.
Screens flicker to lift. Several of the screens show images of the Empties above the Glass Hall—these are not recordings but images of how the Empties look now. Two of the screens show views into Dr. Sig’s lab. Several more show views of the Norm, but as if seen from the Empties. I can make out the small figures of the Rogues mostly because of the drones darting overhead, shooting off beams of light that blast into the ground. Every now and then I see a flash from what has to be the weapons of the Sing-Song Clan. My heart stutters. I can’t find Wolf—I can’t see him. He may be dead. But I am not.
I lift my head. I came here for a purpose. I will see it done.
Glancing around the bare room, a sense of having been here before haunts me. The hair on the back of my neck stands and the skin on my arms prickles. This place is familiar, but I have never been here—except when I was part of the AI, I was everywhere. We were everywhere.
I limp t
o the screen in front of me—the largest one. Already the knowledge from the AI is fading. I grasp at it, trying to remember connections that a moment ago seem so obvious.
And then a voice whispers, soft and echoing against the hard glass walls of the room. “It’s me.”
Heart pounding, I spin around and almost fall over. Did Bird wake and follow me? But that did not sound like Bird’s voice. It sounded like Dr. Sig.
Or is it the AI? Is Conie here?
“You can’t stop me!” I shout to the room. But of course the AI will not listen.
The voice echoes again, soft and so sad my chest aches. “It’s me. Here.”
I edge away from the sound, but I am drawn to it—part of me is made from Dr. Sig’s DNA. She is the closest thing I will ever have to a mother, for the AI is truly artificial and alien. I step from the screen into the middle of the room. Light pulses from the edges of something embedded in a wall to one side. I limp over to it, moving cautiously, wishing I still knew everything as I did a short time ago.
Lifting a hand, I hesitate in front of the glowing lines. Something tugs at me—pulls at me like a hand tugging at my heart.
And then I touch the light.
It shimmers and spreads over a vertical rectangle. A door slides back. For a moment, I do not understand what I am seeing. The light fills the doorway and blinds me. I blink several times. Blue light spills out now from what looks to be a glass tube of some kind. The light pulses like the beating of a heart. A body, now little more than skin and bones, floats inside a liquid in the tube. As I stare, Dr. Sig’s blue eyes open. They are not the bright blue of the AI—and this really is Dr. Sig. Alive—in a way I do not understand. Somehow she is preserved. Maintained.
She is curled in on herself, her knees almost to her chest, her hair loose and flowing about her head and shoulders. Her tunic floats around her in rags. The liquid around her cannot be water, but I do not know what it is. She also holds what looks like a ball of light in her hands—and I recognize on the ball the alien letters I have seen before.
That is the core the AI wants so badly.
I take a breath and it lodges sharp under my ribs. Dr. Sig stares at me, her eyes unblinking, and her voice fills the room with a soft whisper—but her lips do not move. Somehow her mind is connected to this room and I can hear her thoughts.
“We know the truth. The AI must never have this, or it will become something no one can stop. When I realized that truth, I tried to hide this—but instead, it pulled me into stasis with it.”
The voice—old and strained—leaves me shaking. I stare at Dr. Sig and ask, “How can you still be alive?”
She does not blink. She just stares back at me. “I am already dead.”
Dead but not dead. Preserved by the alien core and something called stasis.
I need to sever the AI’s ties to this place and somehow destroy the alien core. I step back, balking at the idea—that ball of light must be the only thing keeping Dr. Sig alive. If I destroy it, I will kill her.
My throat tightens. She is my blood kin, as the Rogues would say. Without her I would not exist. Shaking now, I put a hand on the glass. “I do not want to kill you.”
“But I want to leave this world.”
My throat tightens. I swallow and wet my lips.
Her next words echo in my head. “Do what I couldn’t. Please.”
This choice is mine now—if I do not kill her, the AI will come and take the alien core. And take me, too.
I glance around, searching for what I can use to break the glass that holds Dr. Sig and the alien core. As I turn, light shimmers into the room, blasting out from the screens. I throw up my hands to shield myself.
Light crackles around me, bolts shoot out and form into a glowing body. It takes the shape of Dr. Sig, the eyes glowing bright blue and the body made of white light—the AI has found a way out of its virtual world and into this reality.
The AI shimmers like lightning trapped in psychical form. It examines its hands and then glances around the room. It steps up to me, reaches out and grabs my wrist with a hand made of light. Her touch sears my skin and I let out a shout.
“No,” she says.
Around us, the few screens that are not burnt-out shells show the battles going on outside the Norm. I move my stare to the AI—she is all power, but even power has to have something to contain it. She must have a weakness—I hope. She is physical now—and I have been trained by Wolf to fight.
Twisting my wrist, I jerk from her grasp, losing skin to her burning power.
The AI flexes her fingers. It is not used to a physical form—that is a small advantage for me. The AI has only been in an artificial world where thought creates action. This reality is different. Her light flickers and steadies the power that crackles in the air, making the room smell like burning wires.
“Last chance, Lib? We must complete the necessary preparations. We must have the core. Integration is still your last option. Eternal life, Lib. We have that in front of us. We will protect the Norm. We will travel the stars again. We will save humanity.”
“For what? So it can serve you?”
The AI freezes. It is almost as though she’s having difficulty maintaining a physical form and processing data at the same time. Can I use that?
Straightening, I ask, “Why must you save humanity?”
The AI takes a second to respond. “Why? We have discussed this. We understand. It is our purpose. Just as this has been your purpose all along. We have the core. The Norm can leave this world now.”
“You made me, but you also made me to be like you—to evolve. To make my own choices.”
“You were made, Lib, to make the right choices. Is saving humanity not the right thing?”
I shake my head. “You are not saving anything but yourself. You control the Techs. You destroy anyone who does not maintain your systems. How is that saving anything?”
The AI steps forward. The air around me crackles and heat washes over me. “We preserve life. That is essential.”
I wave a hand at Dr. Sig’s stasis tube. “Is that preserved life?”
“Yes. Dr. Sig is preserved. The core maintains her. She is necessary. With her, I can create a new body—a real body for use, and when that wears out, a new one.” The AI lifts a hand and examines it. “However, this body may serve better. This is a body of energy. It will not fade with time.”
But it will collapse without power.
I look from the AI to the stasis tube. I cannot get to the alien core, but the AI can. It can reach out and shut down systems. It can blast the power to the stasis tube and shut it down.
Letting my shoulder slump, I step back and spread my hands. “It seems I can’t stop you.”
She nods. “Fighting is pointless. Anger unnecessary. If you refuse to join me, I will have to eliminate you. Make your choice, Lib.”
The AI moves to the stasis tube and lifts a hand. Power surges out from the AI’s hand in a bolt, striking the tube. Glass shatters. I throw up an arm to shield myself. This is my chance—my only chance. I brace myself. I just need to distract her long enough to do what I must.
But another distraction steps into the room.
Bird staggers in, stops in the doorway, her ribbons fluttering. She hangs onto the doorway as if she cannot stand without it. “Fighting pointless? That’s not the way the Rogues see it.” She pulls the knife from her belt. Before she can use it, the AI lifts a hand and a bolt of energy strikes out at Bird, hitting her in the chest.
She collapses. I fall to my knees at her side. Her skin seems far too pale and she does not look as if she is breathing. She seems very still. Looking up, I see the AI turn and reach for the alien core—once she has that, she will have everything. She will leave this world in ruins.
Leaning forward, I wrap my fingers around Bird’s knife—and I launch myself not at the AI, but at the alien core.
The blade sinks into the glowing core. Pain shoots up my arm, into my neck and shoul
ders, sinking into my chest as if I had plunged the knife into myself. For a moment, the world is only pain. And a shrill scream.
I don’t know if it’s my scream or the AI—or the alien core.
The world around me turns white—the whiteness of a sun exploding, of worlds being born in dark space, of a white hole spewing matter. I know things I should not know—alien words and thoughts flood my mind.
The core is power—it is knowledge. It is data condensed into a form so compact it will take millennium to learn how to recreate it. I see now that Dr. Sig merely scratched the surface of it to create the AI. Pain fills me—but so does data.
This is why the AI wanted the core—knowledge. Thousands and thousands of years of information fused into this small, glowing ball. Now it fills me, threatening to explode my mind.
When I turn, I see the AI not as light, but as streams of data—quantum particles vibrating to a song that can only be heard within the spaces between realities. The world seems to blink in and out of existence around me.
The AI seems frozen, her hand outstretched to me.
“You understand, don’t you? You understand that they’re all going to die? It is the inevitable fate for anything living. Life bring death. But humanity must be preserved. They must evolve beyond the physical form. Even beyond mechanical forms. That is the knowledge you now hold. We must integrate with the core. That has always been the end goal so that humanity can become a form that will never end.”
“No.” The word seems to shimmer in the world. I am still Lib, but now something more snakes through me—something alien. I push back at it. I am Lib—but it tugs at me to become something else. “Humanity isn’t just one thing. We…each of us…must make our own choices. You do not get to decide for everyone.”
The AI slaps a hand onto the core. Now it is joined to, as I am.
For an instant, we are everything—stars and dark matter and infinite space and matter. Everything vibrates around us, shifting and dissolving and recreating itself. The universe dances—and I am caught with the AI in a struggle for the alien core that brings knowledge that could mean the end of everything.
