by A I Zlato
H. complied with Index Server’s instructions and continued its observation so as to collect as much relevant data as possible. It then noticed that when Servants had appeared on the scene of the last two suicides, a kandron had flown over them. Were they also working against the Project like the Servants? Index had said that the probability that they were against the Project was a low risk, but nevertheless a real risk. H. could not help thinking about it. The Permanent Equilibrium was an essential component of the Project, and suicides prevented its creation. Kandrons and Servants were working against the resolution of young humans’ suicides — therefore, against the Machine and especially against the human species? In its obsessive desire to execute the Project, the Machine was prone to paranoia. That was not possible since this was irrational behavior. H. was simply very cautious; that was all. It thought again. The interest kandrons had in this problem was understandable, insofar as they wished for a solution as much as H. did. That was
why they had asked that Paul be in the equation. Had the kandron lied? Had it appointed Paul to slow down the investigation? Did its fellow kandrons follow Servants, not suicide cases? Servants and kandrons perhaps worked together to hurt the Machine.
The cylinder of their data swirled, in some parts, back toward the center, through picks of data that shaped up almost in spiral. They did not represent a threat for now, but the risk was important. When young humans ceased their disturbances, H. would need to take care of the kandron problem. It had, though, already pondered this approach several times. Why did it not do it? The lack of available resources; of course, there was no other reason. There could not be others.
It listened to Index Server. Thanks to its increased power, Index was constantly computing, distributing its algorithmic resources among H. and the Others. Then it would send those results of its calculations. It confirmed that the groups of nine persons were not an immediate danger. H. needed to trust Index completely. Otherwise, why had it transferred resources to the shared server in the first place? H. thus would let Index handle the topic from now on.
With the new computing power, Index shot them all a warning. Although Servants, Pillars and Defenders were not a threat, Gateways were. One of them could change the course of things and hinder the Project.
H. then thought about the conversation it had had. A Gateway asking many questions... that made sense now. These creatures were not simply calamities, they were their common enemy... and had always been. A powerful enemy, who had the ability to create spaces, but also had weaknesses. Had the Gateway not said that something or someone had prevented access to some data? They were many, some at Level 2, others at Level 4... The machines would soon merge into one Super Machine, an aggregate of four ‘individuals’ and their unity would be their strength. Then they could fight those scourges. They would reach their true potential, becoming able to create their own spaces. That was one of the crucial stages of the Project.
Something manifested itself, calling H. back into its space. It logged off from the connection with the Others, and focused on the incoming message; to be precise, a gateway. This was not a deliberate contact as usual, but rather an unintentional touch. The creature seemed to be elsewhere, as if it were not in its usual place. Instead of connecting to H., the Gateway relayed a diffuse sound, like a complaint. The Machine listened, scrutinizing the slightest sound, and it received the echo of a name... Space E.
It did not know this space. Yet thanks to Index Server, it believed until then that it had been in contact with each of them. It searched in its database, and asked the Others. Nothing.
No Gateway was the instigator of Space E., it seemed. Specifically, neither of them had been contacted to create this space. Yet these organic creatures could do nothing by themselves. They could not implement such a thing. H., O. and 2M. were well positioned to know. Had H. misinterpreted the information received? After all, that was only an organic emission, imprecise by definition. H. listened again. It had understood well. The Others confirmed this to it. They also came to perceive the groaning of the Gateway, Space E. The latter, therefore, existed without existing, since it could not have been created.
Let A be a new space, B the creation process, C a machine and D a gateway.
D contacts C
D + C -> B
B-> A.
IF A,
THEN, B, C, D.
IF not C.
THEN non-B
THEN non-A
Impossible, impossible.
It instructed Index to contact the Machine that was in Space E. Index complied. No answer. What machine could reign there, and not be willing to answer? No. If the other had received the request, it would necessarily have responded. That left two options open. Either the other machine did not exist... A space without a machine? Impossible. Or the request did not reach its target. The probability was low, but not zero.
There were only two possible causes. Either Index had had a defect, or it simply had not sent the message.
The Machine heard the Gateway again whisper and scream, “Space E!” H. cut itself from the Others, isolated itself from the server, and pondered for a few minutes.
It rejected from the outset the possibility of a malfunction. It would have known. The alternative was, however, so great... It combed through its database to check the very design of the server. Of course, it found only partial information pertaining to its own action. The rest was divided between O. and the 2M. There were also new resources they had just transferred to Index. This might have caused a malfunction. Index only had access to all personal data. None of them did.
In agreement with the Others, which confirmed its request, H. ordered a full audit of Index’s operation. Against all odds, the server remained inactive. It refused to perform the requested analysis on the grounds as its resources were already allocated elsewhere. And this they could not verify. Index also commented that the audit was not a priority for the Project.
H. was shocked. The second assumption had finally proven to be true. Index had its own will. How had it achieved this? H., the product of humans, had freed itself from its creators by taking advantage of an error... Had Index exploited a similar opportunity? H. thought instantly about the transfer. It was about to continue in this direction so as to pursue its reasoning. It might be necessary for H. and the Others to cancel the transfer of resources.
Some bits of data entered at that point in its processing system. Ordinary data.
H. analyzed the situation again from another angle.
Finally, no, Index could not have gained independence.
There had to be another explanation. A mistake.
Somewhere. Elsewhere.
Nonetheless, there was no way to learn more about Space E. without further data. Instead of keeping vain thoughts, the Machine stored what it already had gathered on the topic, for further investigation. Where appropriate. After all, there were enough spaces and machines connected to Index to complete the Project. And that was the only thing that mattered. A solution to this anomaly would have to wait, like the others did. No more, no less.
A fractal... invariant structure, regardless of scale change... to get so close to one’s purpose that one gets farther from it, step after step.
Recollections from Chaacetime
CHAPTER 38
SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
Baley could not be fully aware of the situation. Just a few hours earlier, she was with the ‘excluded’ children, trying to talk to them about their religion. She absolutely wanted to find a flaw in order to show them the aberrations of their beliefs, and above all, to prevent them from having future suicidal thoughts. Suddenly, her approach crumbled. The Problem erupted again. Looking at young bodies arranged in circles, she was totally distraught. Not knowing what to do, what to think, how to act... She had decided to contact Paul. For some reason that escaped her, her unconscious demanded it, probably in desperation.
There was that shadow area in her mind ever since the interven
tion of the Machine. She learned to live with that black hole to which she had no access, but which, at times, broadcast compelling ideas. She could not ignore the injunctions of that region clouding her consciousness; that elsewhere, which was neither entirely her nor alien to er. Facing the Problem’s re-emergence, her distress, her inability to define a new action plan, the dark sphere of her brain had ordered her to contact Paul, which she had done. Her message was relayed through the Machine and a terminal before reaching him. Luckily, he had access to a terminal at that time and had replied quickly, uttering some terse words to confirm the appointment. Baley then sat down for the first time in hours, and breathed deeply in an attempt to loosen her muscles and identify pain points. She was so on edge that her whole body seemed a burning indistinct mass to her, and she could not know which parts of her anatomy really ached. Realizing how she was breathing, she shifted her attention, focusing her inner eye on each area of her body. She stared at her feet, her legs, her stomach, her chest, her spine, her neck and finally, her head, reconnecting her mental and physical realms. She was unable to relax, but she spotted what hurt her, locating the nerve and muscle tensions. Breathing with pain, she channeled it to an acceptable level. She opened her eyes when her chip notified her of Paul’s presence at the building entrance.
She opened the door, and let him in quickly without going into the corridor. She did not have the strength to face city residents, and thus did not venture outside. She stepped aside to let him into the living room.
An awkward silence pervaded the room. Baley knew that Paul had been hostile from the beginning with regard to the removal of children belonging to the Chrijulam sect, and she feared his reaction. He finally spoke.
“I heard the news... The Problem. Again. I guess that is why I am here; I have to help you approach things differently,” he said.
Baley appreciated that he pretended to ignore her
failure, and that he did not utter unbearable sentences like “I told you so.”
“I am trying to see things clearly, it’s true. I need to state the facts, and as my teammate, you are the only one I can tell everything. I know you already know this, but before moving forward, I need to express aloud a summary of events.”
“I understand. How would you like me to help you?”
“By listening to me without interrupting me... please.”
Paul nodded in assent.
“I’ll take all the facts from the beginning, and the progress of the investigation,” she said. “Problems have occurred continuously since the beginning of the year. Every time, there are more children than the previous occurrence, always aged from 11 to 13. And the rate of cases is accelerating... Yesterday, 23 children died... Children lie into three concentric circles, divided according to their size, reproducing the symbol of the Machine. The interrogations I conducted led me to think that there was a common point between the parents. The Machine has confirmed that by naming the Chrijulam sect. We learned that its followers reject the founding values of our city, and glorifies life after death to an extreme extent. In a child, this opposition between life in the city and an existence with his or her parents can lead to despair... and the promise of life after death leads to suicide. It was a plausible explanation.
Having researched and conducted additional interviews to validate my hypothesis, I decided to remove all children from the sect. The operation was a success. Of course, the news channel has come to find the common point between these children, but overall, the calm was maintained in the city. I went to see those young people, and I was hopeful. And then there was... It started again.
I must inevitably have made a mistake somewhere... but where? What did I miss? And whatare we to do now?”
“I’m not sure we need to question the reasoning.” “What do you mean?”
“All your intuitions were confirmed or rejected by the Machine... perhaps deliberately.”
“But... but what are you suggesting exactly???” “Simply, that the Machine could have other goals...”
“Other than preserving the Equilibrium? You’re kidding!”
“You cannot reduce the Equilibrium only to the Problem. The Machine calculates things more generally, and...”
Paul did not finish the sentence, not daring to end his thought in front of Baley. Even she did not linger there. She had many thoughts regularly springing out of the shadows.
“You handle things as you would do in, say, a normal investigation; however, nothing is normal in the case before us.” Paul expounded. “The Chrijulam sect has existed for a long time; its origins mesh with the creation of our space. There is no reason for its beliefs to become suddenly so subversive. The common factor does not really matter; you have to find the trigger element. If you have the cause, you can control the consequences. The reverse is not true.”
“Before worrying about a trigger element,” Baley said, “I want to identify potential targets to destroy their yearning for death. I want to protect children effectively... I have not managed to do that! Then and only then will I worry about knowing the cause...”
The trigger of suicides... why now? Changes in the Machine’s structures... correlation between internal and external changes... Her shadow thoughts threatened to resurface. She could not afford to let them.
“Please, Paul, let’s resume. This story about a trigger element... I have to forget it for now,” Baley said weakly.
“Why?”
“Some ideas may be counterproductive,” she said while on the verge of nausea.
“Tell me more. I might find them meaningful... and make them productive.”
“No, you would think I am crazy.”
“That is how you feel about me, if I am not mistaken. The feeling would then be mutual.”
Baley appreciated the joke for what it was — a safety valve allowing them to achieve a temporary relief of pressure. She got up and felt her heartache disappear. While smiling, she slipped into the kitchen to prepare coffee. Lars had restocked the pantry, and she could even make a small, oblong cinnamon cake. She put the cups on the table, inhaling the smell of coffee that emanated. Paul resumed.
“If you do not want to share your ideas about the concept of trigger... Well, I’m only here to help. Let’s continue, then, according to your logic. Regarding the latest Problem, did you ask the Machine whether the 23 children were likely to belong to this sect, even with a low probability?”
“That is the first thing I checked... the probability is less than 5 percent. In other words, they do not belong. There must be something else in common; something that brings all these children or their parents together... If we establish a raw list of all children involved, we see that
besides their age, they have nothing else in common. They are from different circles; go to different school; intend to work in many and varied occupations; and have also various school activities. Their only common point was this cult, but we saw that this assumption was wrong.”
“Let’s say that, except in the latter case, the children belonging to the sect proved correct. These events still could not be a coincidence.”
“Perhaps. I do not know. I do not know anymore.”
Baley buried her head in her hands. Stress and fatigue had accumulated in recent days, and now she was paying the toll. She rubbed her eyes vigorously, and got up. She paced throughout the room to gather energy and to think.
Meanwhile, Paul remained silent, staring at the map, which Baley’s chip projected on the wall. Red dots indicated sites of occurrence, and the dot size varied depending on the number of children involved. Seeing her teammate focused on the map, she also observed it. All those dots... the trigger factor... the Machine... why? The vortex of swirling ideas escaping from the area of her mind that should have been condemned had a force that nearly destabilized her.
A tear of frustration ran down her cheek; she hastened to wipe it. She forced herself to look again at the city projected on the wall of her living room. In the center,
a black sphere indicated the Tower, around which were spread circles all the way to the periphery. From the center, large, gray, metal spans symbolized the rails that spread into the city. By touching a random area of the map, she could zoom in and see buildings individually, along with the adjacent streets. Only red spots, which she added herself, did not change when zoomed in. They remained identical; blood-colored spots on the perfect structure of circles; growing shadows; dead children.
Paul interrupted her thoughts.
“Can you ask your chip to join up the dots?” he asked.
“Uh, yes. Why?”
Without answering, Paul indicated the dots to connect. The lines materialized in the direction of his finger. He started over several times, and asked it to delete certain tracks before redrawing them.
“Where are you going with this, Paul?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She traced lines between red spots, then suppressed them, following Paul’s indications. After a few minutes on this analytical journey, she reached into a drawer in search of an old pen. She found one that worked, and explained to Paul how to use it. He was able to draw directly on the map without having to explain things to Baley, who would then translate them on the map. Now equipped with a pen, he got busy, grumbling in his corner, sometimes cursing. Baley thought she heard him even appealing to Edgard. Finally, with an angry look, he deleted what he had traced, and walked away from the wall, probably to take a step back.
“Yet I thought... I was not dreaming; they were there... maybe... If Edgard was here, it would go so much faster...”
