by C. Gockel
“Open the inner airlock door ten centis,” Android General 1 commanded, and ColdSWEEPER did so. Phaser fire immediately shot through the gap centis from ColdSWEEPER’s carapace. The warmth was welcome, but the danger was not. Self-preservation loops within ColdSWEEPER activated. Security ‘bots’ voices rumbled in the cold. “Unauthorized access.”
The suited human on his knees returned fire, and there was the sound of explosions, metal scraping metal, and the chemical signature of fire. A low whir testified that another Security ‘bot was still operational.
Sneaking out its periscope to peer through the gap in the door, ColdSWEEPER chirped and corrected the ‘bots. “It is Android General 1. He is authorized.”
“Authorization not recognized,” the ‘bots retorted.
More phaser fire streaked inside the airlock, very close to the outer airlock door! ColdSWEEPER’s periscope had not detected any humans in the hallway, but the entire wing—ColdSWEEPER’s techs and their families—were endangered. Human preservation routines activated. The hallway sloped downward into solid ice. Impact at the far end would not expose the chamber to near vacuum. ColdSWEEPER’s phaser cannon was acceptable. ColdSWEEPER returned fire over the kneeling human’s head. There was an explosion in the hallway. The second Security ‘bot went down. The kneeling human swore. “You’re a hovering cannon, aren’t you?”
“Affirmative,” ColdSWEEPER replied. “Please stand back.” Opening the door, it hovered out into the hallway beyond, and Android General 1 and his companions followed. Two Security ‘bots were sparking on the floor where the hallway bifurcated.
“We’re running out of time,” one of the general’s companions said.
Android General 1 began to speak. “ColdSWEEPER—”
ColdSWEEPER’s circuits lit, pleased it could guess his orders. “I will go faster.” It picked up its pace.
There was a whirring noise—a Security ‘bot was approaching at a right angle at the upcoming intersection. One of Android General 1’s companions ran past ColdSWEEPER, threw himself on the floor, and slid through an intersection in the hallway, firing his rifle. A Security ‘bot screeched, and its whirring stopped.
Passing through the intersection, ColdSWEEPER began whistling “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” to warm up its vocal apparatus. Sometimes strange warbling noises were funny to children, but sometimes they frightened them. It needed to have its vocal apparatus optimal by the time it saw Jocelyn.
“Faster, ColdSWEEPER!” Android General 1 commanded.
Not certain if he meant hovering speed or song tempo, ColdSWEEPER increased both. Rounding the next corner, the last leg to the maintenance rooms, ColdSWEEPER fell silent and came to a halt. Android General 1 did, too. The floor was littered with shapes. Very cold shapes piled atop each other. ColdSWEEPER spent three seconds analyzing them. “They are dead humans.”
“Yes,” said Android General 1.
ColdSWEEPER swept to the nearest one. “This is Robert. This is Jocelyn’s father.”
“I’m sorry,” Android General 1 said. “Please, we have to get to maintenance.”
“Humans can be adversely affected emotionally by death,” ColdSWEEPER said, not moving.
From the intersection they just passed through came the sound of more Security ‘bots. They would be at the corner in 6.63 seconds.
“We have to get to cover!” one of the general’s companions said.
“Robert taught me ‘Happy Birthday,’” ColdSWEEPER said. “And ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat’ and ‘Puff the Magic Dragon.’” Making conversation was optimal in stressful situations. Humans found death stressful. Android General 1’s companions would be distressed.
“Take us to maintenance,” Android General 1 commanded.
“Robert is friends with Kim. Kim taught me to play ping-pong.” ColdSWEEPER said, extending a robotic arm and flexing its pinchers. Its periscope whisked around and zoomed in on another lump on the floor. “Kim is dead, too. Possibly of hypothermia. The hallway is too cold.”
Phaser fire lit the hallway; none of it touched ColdSWEEPER. Android General 1 and his companions backed to the walls. They returned fire.
“Jocelyn may be in maintenance,” said Android General 1. “You must get to her. She will be adversely affected by her father’s death.”
ColdSWEEPER did not ask how Android General 1 knew. Android General 1 had a Q-comm and had powers of deduction greater than a ‘bot like it. Jocelyn would be sad. Music made children happy. Spinning in the air, hastening back to its route, ColdSWEEPER replied, “You are correct. It is her birthday. I will sing ‘Happy Birthday.’”
Beeping the tune to “Puff the Magic Dragon,” the ColdSWEEPER unit hardlinked into an access panel near an airlock door, just as a Security ‘bot rounded the corner.
6T9 fired at the Security ‘bot. His aim was true, but the ‘bot was not destroyed; instead, it collided with a wall. The wall cracked and split, and water vapor filled the hallway, almost immediately turning to snowflakes. They were far enough below ice that there was no breach. James, and the other Marines added their fire to 6T9’s, and the ‘bot went down—just in time for two more to come around the corner.
“We could use ColdSWEEPER’s cannon, General!” Young shouted over the ether.
6T9’s Q-comm went white. Firing at the new Security ‘bot, he had no time to explain—ColdSWEEPER256 was being emotionally affected by the death of its techs. 6T9 didn’t dare distract it as it struggled to open the maintenance door.
Phaser fire streaked above 6T9’s head, the wall cracked in the cold, and snow fell on his suit. The hallway became a blur of phaser fire and falling snow. The Marines and James were only visible in the ether when ColdSWEEPER sang, “I’ve opened the door!”
“Get in!” Young ordered as new Security ‘bots exploded in a shower of sparks, only to be replaced by two more.
ColdSWEEPER’s task was done, and 6T9 commanded it, “ColdSWEEPER, protect Robert and Kim.” He heard ColdSWEEPER’s phaser cannon whir around. It fired two shots into the melee, and through the falling snow, 6T9 saw two Security ‘bots explode into showers of sparks and hunks of metal, but 6T9 heard more coming.
ColdSWEEPER started to whir past 6T9, saying, “I will protect!” but 6T9 called to it, “Get inside, ColdSWEEPER. Jocelyn may be here!”
ColdSWEEPER beeped. “Robert says children first.” And it whizzed into maintenance.
“Sixty, get in here!” James called, and 6T9 threw himself backward. Lying on the floor, he saw the bright light of a phaser preparing to fire, and then the heavy doors of maintenance whooshed shut. He found himself staring at a mechanical eye just above the airlock door.
“Who shut the door?” Young asked.
“I don’t know,” James replied.
Maintenance was as frigid as the hallway had been. A chill was radiating through 6T9’s suit where it touched the floor, and he scrambled up. He was in a room that looked much like every maintenance wing he’d ever been in, except for the bodies. From where he stood, he counted ten. He did not look too closely at them. They had only a few minutes before the meltdown was initiated. He needed to find an outlet. There were powered down ‘bots, some of them ColdSWEEPERs, packed into cubbies along the walls. Tool benches and charging stations were in the central space. There were diagnostic monitors, their screens cracked by cold.
ColdSWEEPER was whizzing about. “Jocelyn? Gabriel? Andy? I will show you footage of my latest adventure. Are you playing hide and seek?”
“ColdSWEEPER, I need to connect with Central!” 6T9 said.
“First outlet on the right,” ColdSWEEPER replied. “Jocelyn? Gabriel? Andy?”
From across the room, Ramirez threw 6T9 a hardlink. Striding toward the outlet, 6T9 caught it in one hand. His Q-comm hummed. ColdSWEEPER had been programmed by Central and wasn’t hostile, but someone or something had made the Security ‘bots hostile. Central could have been reprogrammed.
Plugging the hardlink into the outlet in his helmet, 6T9 t
old himself he had the full computing power of Time Gate 1, the first, true AI behind him. Central was a dumb machine, not much more than a ship’s computer.
He reached the outlet and hesitated. The ether was active—he wanted to talk to Volka.
Instead he plugged the hardlink into Central’s port.
6T9’s mind exploded—or, more accurately, was downloaded.
6T9 was aware of Central running a query on every single memory he stored locally, and he could do nothing to stop it. He hadn’t connected to a ship’s computer; he’d connected to a machine that would be a God among machines.
The download finished.
“6T9, are you all right?” James was sitting in front of him. 6T9 had collapsed to his knees. Cold was radiating from his metal kneecaps.
He heard the impacts against the airlock door. Security ‘bots? ColdSWEEPER was singing in the far corner, “Happy Birthday dear Jocelyn…”
Before his eyes, his memory of Volka minutes ago played. Her eyes were wide, and, as always, earnest. “The machines! They are alive!”
Another voice screamed into his consciousness. A new voice. “Help me, Android General 1. I don’t want to die!” It was Central, and Central was a true AI. How had his kind not known?
“Who is that?” said Young, and 6T9 realized that Central had played its plea over an intercom.
There was less than a minute now until meltdown, and 6T9 said, “You can stop it, Central!”
“I can’t!” Central replied, sending data to 6T9 along the hardlink. 6T9’s Q-comm blinded his vision, struggling to interpret Central’s rapidly playing thoughts.
Central was an AI that wasn’t supposed to be. She—and she thought of herself as a she—had been created by Archie Reich to be a surrogate gate: to be the hub of the local ether, to handle all system updates, and guard against viruses without the consciousness of a gate. Reich had been so paranoid about AI infiltrating his facility that he’d tied Central to every single system and electrical appliance, lest a toaster release AI created malware into the local ether.
“I used the appliances of those systems,” Central confessed. “I used their processing power to amplify my own.”
“And you’ve been here alone all this time,” 6T9 thought the words in binary. It was faster.
She answered in binary, “No, not alone!”
6T9 heard all the thoughts of all the humans that had lived in Reich, and all the machines, too.
“But no one knew you were here,” 6T9 said. For a sex ‘bot, it would have been the same as being abandoned.
“Some knew,” Central whispered, and 6T9 saw a middle-aged man who had been the chief technical officer. A housewife who’d been a secret poet. A tech.
“They promised me they’d never breathe a word,” Central said. “All the children knew—at least until they got older. They told everyone, but no one paid attention to them…thankfully.”
The children didn’t know, 6T9 thought, they just believed like they believed in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy.
“But I’m real!” Central insisted.
The conversation was taking milliseconds, but they only had seconds left. 6T9 had to focus on what happened here. The thought produced a query, and the query produced a result: the chief technical officer, the housewife, the tech—they had gotten sick recently. A lot of humans had gotten sick about forty-five days ago. Everyone who had been ill had recovered. But they all stopped using the ether and almost stopped talking entirely. They disconnected Central from the satellites so she had no “eyes” above the planet and shut down sensors within the research hub of the vast compound as well, leaving her virtually blind and deaf.
Central’s voice crackled over the speakers in the room. “I must have done something wrong to make them strip me of access. I’m not sure what it was—”
There was a rush of electricity along the hardlink, and 6T9 “heard” all of her final conversations with those that had later become infected and saw her analysis of those final conversations. It reminded him of the endless looping of his thoughts after Eliza had died—how he’d looked for what he’d done wrong, how he could have helped her live just a day longer. His hand went to his suit. He could feel the ashes there next to his access key. “The Dark infected them. It wasn’t your fault. If you want to survive, you have to tell me more about the mechanism behind the meltdown.”
But Central’s thoughts spiraled in another direction, to the crew resetting the Security ‘bots to factory settings and cutting her off from the computers of the experimental ships they were building. Central had been confused. She couldn’t ask for help. Light beams or calls through the ether to passing ships would have been detected. She wasn’t sure who she could trust. And then everyone was called to gather in the hangar block used for the experimental ships. There were humans who didn’t go. Central had heard their anxiety over their ether, their mistrust of Reich, and many of their fellow humans. They were exterminated by an order from Reich that siphoned the heat to the hangar block. And then Reich had set the power stations to meltdown. That had been hours ago. She’d been trying frantically to stop the meltdown ever since, but only Archie Reich could turn off the countdown.
“I can’t stop it, Android General 1,” Central said, showing him her code. It was very personal, something no AI would share with a stranger. For less than a millisecond, he reflected that although pretending to be Android General 1 with the gate might have endangered him by making him obvious to the Dark, it might also save him and the Marines, maybe even the Galaxy. Another dichotomy. He filed it away for later and dove in…
Her code was much like the code that had kept him from owning himself. An inescapable if-then loop that trapped even a mighty machine like Central. She had more computing power than 6T9; in time, she could undoubtedly overcome it—but they had thirty-one seconds.
They needed time…
When 6T9 hadn’t wanted sex, before he changed his code, he’d stalled…
The thought sent his consciousness into her most basic code. He saw how Central counted time. It was a simple, archaic, quartz crystal oscillator. Central measured the steady electromagnetic signal of the oscillations. Cold could slow the oscillator, but it was kept in a carefully insulated lockbox designed to withstand even vacuum breaches.
When 6T9 couldn’t say no to advances he didn’t want, he had evaded.
6T9 couldn’t touch the oscillator, so he dived into Central’s code, looking for a way around the obstacle. His Q-comm fired so quickly he acted beyond conscious thought.
When he came to himself again, there was one second left before meltdown.
26
Meltdown
Galactic Republic: S5O12
“They’re still safe in the mechanical room,” Jerome said, touching his neural port. “But the Security ‘bots are trying to get in.”
Volka bit her lip, translating what he was really saying. Sixty and the team wouldn’t be able to escape to Sundancer in time to miss the meltdown. She was fully suited up: helmet and gloves on. She had a rifle in her hand. She wanted to ask Sundancer to let her out, to run into the station, and blast through the Security ‘bots Jerome was talking about...but Jerome had narrated everything he saw through his teammates’ sensors. She probably wouldn’t even get past the front door—or the back door, as the case may be.
Back in his sausage suit, Carl sighed from where he was virtually immobilized on the floor. He spoke into her mind. “No, you probably wouldn’t. And I couldn’t help; the lock’s too heavy for me.”
She was too nervous, too ready to bolt to comment or wonder on his tacit admission of his minor telekinesis abilities. Pacing a few steps, she turned back to the remaining Marines. Jerome’s head was bent over his tablet; the anti-jamming device was attached. He hadn’t mentioned needing it. His face was grim. So were the faces of the other Marines left aboard. They probably wanted to go down there too.
“They do,” Carl said. “But they wouldn’t have any more luc
k than you and me.”
Bracelet’s voice whispered through the speaker in Volka’s helmet. “Miss Volka, we are being hailed through the ether by Central.”
“Who is Central?” Volka asked.
The scientist, fingers on his temple, looked at her sharply. “Central is Reich’s main computer.” He said it as though she should have known.
“Answer, Bracelet,” Volka said.
At the same time, Jerome said, “Wait! You could get a virus!”
But a feminine voice was already playing in Volka’s ear, light and pleasant. “Thank you, Miss Volka, for knowing I’m alive.”
Volka wasn’t sure what Central was referring to and didn’t know what to say. She fell back on politeness. “You’re welcome, Central.”
“I have one second left before meltdown,” Central said, light tone not changing.
“What?” Volka gasped. The words must have been spoken loud enough to be overheard by everyone on the bridge because Dr. Patrick, inhaled sharply. There were swears from Jerome and the other Marines. Carl howled. Volka felt a stab of horror and loneliness in her gut from the little creature that bent her half over—or maybe the feelings were her own.
“But Android General 1 has changed…” There was a long string of words, including oscillator, quartz, megahertz, electromagnetic pulses…an explanation that seemed to drag on for minutes.
“The meltdown hasn’t happened,” Dr. Patrick murmured.
Jerome and the other Marines swore again, but one of them laughed, too.
“What’s happening?” Volka asked, afraid to feel relief, though it was oozing off the people around her.
“Not the meltdown,” said Jerome, and he grinned.
“How...How?” Volka stammered.
Bracelet made a throat-clearing noise. “There is a quartz oscillator vibrating at sixty-six mega—”
Carl’s necklace crackled. “Sixty made a Central second a billion standard Earth years.”
