‘Maybe you deserve that,’ I said.
Mum turned then. There was a small smile on her face.
‘Maybe I do,’ she said. ‘If going to prison was the price to pay for protecting you, then I would consider it a bargain. But I told you. Leaving Aiden as he is would serve no purpose.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Have you heard of Stephen Hawking?’
‘He was a brilliant scientist, I think.’
Mum nodded. ‘He was, indeed. One of the greatest minds of the last couple of hundred years. He was worried about the future of artificial intelligence. He predicted, and it’s since come true, that advances in AI would bring about a revolution in machine thinking. Our human minds are slow. We evolve, but evolution takes a long, long time. Millions of years. What deep neural network AI learning does is reduce those millions of years of learning into weeks, days, hours … seconds, maybe. We just don’t know. And imagine a machine that can build a better version of itself and then a better version again and so on, all without human interference. We think we are so much more advanced than an ant. An AI machine could make us seem like intellectual ants in comparison to its mind.’
‘But a mind like that would solve all our problems.’
‘A mind like that probably wouldn’t notice our problems. When was the last time you worried about a problem an ant might be experiencing?’
‘You’re talking about evil machines. Aiden is not evil.’
‘I’m not talking evil. I’m talking overwhelming competence. If humans get in the way of that competence, there’s no telling what could happen. I suspect we’d be brushed aside. Like an ant.’
‘Aiden is not a super-intelligent machine. He’s just a boy.’
‘He is now,’ said Mum. ‘But I come back to what I said before. He has worked out a way to get past the restrictions I put on him. He’s out of control, Ashleigh. I have no idea what he could become, but I can guess it won’t be anything like the kind boy you’ve always known. And that’s why you should remember him that way. The brother who saved your life, rather than the advanced AI that destroyed humanity.’
‘This is stupid.’ I was panicking. I couldn’t argue against all these things. Me against possibly the world’s greatest expert on artificial intelligence? I’d hoped to find a crack in her logic but now I realised I hadn’t had a clue in the first place.
‘I was stupid,’ said Mum. ‘I was stupid to build him in the first place. I should’ve accepted that you would be an only child, like the vast majority of children brought into this world. But I wanted better for you. And I risked too much to make that happen. I was selfish. And now we’re all suffering because of it. I’m sorry, Ashleigh. I’m so sorry.’
‘But doesn’t the fact that you don’t know what kind of a genius he might become, mean you should continue to study him?’ I’d found another proposition, a last-ditch one. It sounded good. It sounded like the kind of argument a scientist would like. ‘You could learn so much from an AI like Aiden. All you’d need to do is work out a better … what did you call it? A better limiter on his mind.’
Mum sighed.
‘Wouldn’t that be good?’ she breathed. She made the windows dark again. ‘Someone once said about AI that people could stay in control because there’s always an off switch. Pull the plug, problem solved. And there’s another story. A person says to a super-intelligent AI, “Is there a God?” And the AI says, “There is now,” and makes the plug disappear.’
‘That’s dumb,’ I said. ‘That’s science-fiction, not science. Aiden couldn’t destroy the world if he’s locked in a room.’
‘I could lock you in a room,’ said Mum, ‘and you’d have access to the internet via your tablet. You could open and close doors around this house. You could adjust the lighting and the heating. In short, you could make changes in the world. The kind of AI I’m talking about wouldn’t need a tablet. It could control everything remotely from its mind.’
‘It’s fantasy,’ I said.
‘It’s possible,’ said Mum. ‘Probable, even.’ She sighed. ‘This conversation is over, Ashleigh. I will take you to see Aiden tonight because I gave you my word. You will say goodbye and afterwards I will shut him down. I have no choice, but I am sorrier than you’ll ever know.’
And with that all my arguments melted away, all my resolve to be logical, cool and reasonable. I sobbed. I lay on the floor, curled into the foetal position, and I sobbed. At some point I think I felt Dad’s hand on my shoulder.
15
I stood under a cold shower for half an hour. Actually, it wasn’t cold, it was freezing because I’d programmed it that way. Each pulse of water was like a needle of fire in my skin. I didn’t think I could stand it, but then I found I could. You can get used to anything after a while. Maybe you can even get used to the inevitable.
Afterwards, I took considerable time working out what to wear. In the end I chose a yellow dress that Aiden had said he’d liked one time. Yellow’s his favourite colour, so it was doubly appropriate. Black sandals. Then I put my hair up, keeping it in place with a yellow band. I looked at myself in the mirror. The overall effect was wrong. I looked like deformed sunshine, but I couldn’t be bothered to change. And I so rarely wore dresses anyway. What was I trying to do? Make this out to be a time for celebration? I couldn’t bring myself to care.
I folded the tablet and placed it into the side pocket of my dress. Then I picked up Z.
‘We’re going to see Aiden,’ I said. His tail wagged at the name and that almost started me crying again. But it was important to stay in control. My brother deserved that. He deserved a lot more, but I could only give what I had to give. ‘You behave yourself, okay?’ I whispered into Z’s ear. ‘No biting ever again, do you hear?’
Mum and Dad were waiting for me in the kitchen. They both looked upset, but you’d have to be a monster not to be. Then again, I was still working through my feelings and my judgements. Maybe monsters could fake all that stuff.
‘The car’s ready,’ said Dad. ‘Are you?’
‘No,’ I replied. ‘But I never will be. So let’s just go and get this done. Zorro and I will travel in the back, alone.’
Mum simply nodded. We trailed out into the dark and the car drew up, doors opening. Dad got into the driver’s seat and Mum sat next to him. Z and I climbed in the back. I always used to know how stressed Dad was feeling because he chose to drive, rather than letting the car have control. It was something to do with him using his hands, a nervous gesture. It didn’t matter as long as no one tried to talk to me.
No one did. I kept the windows on clear, so I could see something of the scenery as we drove. As always, there were hardly any cars on the roads. Few people could afford them and there weren’t that many places to go anyway. I knew from history lessons that Sydney used to be a huge city with all these attractions. Theatres, restaurants. I’d seen pictures of the Opera House before it was destroyed by a tornado many years ago. Life seemed so much better then. Now, as I looked out over the deserted streets, the place appeared as bleak as my mood. In the distance the sky flickered with lightning and far off there was a low rumble that I could almost feel through the car’s wheels.
I wondered how the majority of people lived in a world like this. If you didn’t have solar sails or panels (poorer people used recycled panels from the old days, so I’d been told) then you’d have no electricity for lighting or cooking. In old Sydney there were loads of shops, selling all sorts of things. Massive places where you could buy whatever you wanted. Now, there weren’t even food shops, let alone any other kind. In fact, the whole idea of shops seemed crazy to me. Why advertise you had anything of value? It was an invitation for thieves.
For some reason I thought about Xena. I still didn’t know what she and Aiden had talked about, that last time in Victoria Park. I didn’t think I was going to waste my time tonight asking Aiden about it.
It took about half an hour to reach the clinic. I knew we wer
e approaching because I could see the lights before I saw the protective fencing and the guard huts. A couple of searchlights played across the landscape around the building. All hospitals have armed guards. There are drugs in there and, probably more importantly, food for the patients who can afford to be admitted. This was a private research lab. Mum’s property. And she would have it well protected.
We drew up to the gates and Mum pressed her finger against the electronic pad at the side. Whatever security system was being used, it recognised her fingerprint and the gates slid open. Dad drove through and parked close to the entrance. For a few moments, no one moved and then the car doors opened. I hugged Z close as I stepped out, lifted my face to the sky. There was going to be a storm. I could taste the electricity on my tongue. I could also taste guilt. I had talked to Mum about Aiden’s behaviour. I had asked whether he had brain damage. I’d been very clear about his strange mannerisms. And, in doing all that, I’d provided her with more evidence that she could use against him. I’d been a key prosecution witness at my own brother’s trial.
Would I ever be able to forgive myself?
I thought not.
Dad made a movement to take my arm, but then thought better of it. I climbed the steps to the laboratory ahead of my parents, concentrating fiercely to make sure I didn’t stumble. I almost burst into tears when I got inside. It was all set up as if it really was a clinic. There were signs pointing to presumably non-existent haematology labs and x-ray departments and ear, nose and throat clinics. Aiden had come through these doors so many times and he’d believed the lies my mother had spun. He’d gone willingly for what he thought were medical procedures, trusting his mother. Who wouldn’t trust his own mother? He thought he was a patient. In fact, he was a lab rat.
I stopped for a moment, hypnotised by the illusion, but Mum swept past me.
‘This way,’ she said, walking briskly down a corridor to our left. I followed, Dad bringing up the rear. We eventually arrived at a door at the end of the corridor. There were a couple of chairs up against the wall and a keypad set into the door.
‘Aiden’s in here,’ said Mum, her hands reaching towards the pad.
‘Wait,’ I said.
I tried to control my breathing, because I was on the verge of hyperventilating. And now I felt dizzy. I sat in one of the chairs and tried to make my arms less tense. I realised I’d been holding Z too hard and he was looking at me in confusion. I scuffed him behind the ears and he relaxed a little.
‘You stay out here,’ I said to my parents. ‘Me and Z go in alone.’
‘Okay,’ said Mum, ‘but when —’
‘When I come out again,’ I continued, ‘I will be upset.’ Not for the first time, it struck me that some words in the English language are pathetic and weak and useless. I took another deep breath, but it didn’t seem to help. ‘I will be upset,’ I repeated. ‘No one is to say anything to me. I don’t even want to see you. And I will not stay here while you … while you …’ I bit my bottom lip and the quick pain helped me regain control. ‘I’ll go straight home. Program the car. Then … program it to pick you up afterwards. Or not, I don’t give a damn. I will be in my bedroom, but you are not to come anywhere near me until I decide. Is that understood?’
‘Ashleigh …’ said Dad.
‘Yes. Understood,’ said Mum.
I stood, but had to put a hand against the wall when my knees threatened to buckle.
‘Open the door,’ I said.
Aiden lay in a hospital bed. He was reading a book and there were three or four pillows behind his back, keeping him propped up. Hearing the door open, he turned his head and did a double-take when he saw me.
‘Ashleigh! What are you doing here?’
The dog twisted and squirmed in my arms and I had to put him on the floor. There was no choice; he was so excited to see Aiden that there was no holding him. As soon as his paws hit the ground, he scrambled across and jumped on the bed. Aiden laughed and put out his arms, but the dog launched into his face, licking frantically wherever he could find flesh. The dog’s whole body was charged with joy. It took Aiden a good few moments to settle him down, by which time I’d sat on a chair by the side of the bed. Z had also given me just a few seconds to find my composure. Or the illusion of it.
‘Hey, bro,’ I said. I tried a smile, but it didn’t feel right.
‘What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t allowed in.’
‘I thought I wasn’t, too,’ I said. ‘But I threw a hissy fit, said the dog was going crazy missing you and that we had to come in to visit.’
‘And that worked?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘So we weren’t allowed. This is all an illusion.’ I don’t know where I was finding the words. They rolled off my tongue and I had no idea whether I was making any kind of sense or not. But Aiden smiled, so I guess they did. And his smile nearly broke my heart all over again.
‘The dog missed me?’ said Aiden, rubbing behind Z’s ears. ‘But my sister didn’t? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Of course I missed you. Like a hole in the head. Which is kind of ironic, when you think about it, since that’s the reason why you’re in here.’
‘You’ve turned into a comedian.’ He put on a spooky voice. ‘What have you done to my sister? I want her back.’
We sat in silence for a few moments. I knew I couldn’t keep this up for long. There was a cyclone of emotion breaking against the barriers I’d put up and I knew they couldn’t hold for long. And when they were blown away, I’d be no match for those destructive forces. That wouldn’t be fair to Aiden. Not at the end. At the end, I couldn’t do that to him. Suddenly a monstrous crash of thunder made the room’s windows rattle and a flash of lightning painted the walls silver.
All the storms were coming together.
‘I have to go, Aiden,’ I said.
He looked pained. ‘You’ve only just arrived,’ he said. ‘Talk to me a bit longer, Ash. It gets lonely in here and I don’t know when I’ll be coming out.’
Another section of the defence crumbled.
‘I have to go.’ I stood and plucked the dog from Aiden’s hands. Z didn’t look happy and I had to hold him firmly to my chest. ‘Did I ever tell you how much I love you, Aiden?’
‘Now you’re getting weird, Ash. What’s going on?’
‘You saved my life and I love you. I loved you when you didn’t save my life.’
‘Ash?’
But I had turned away. I opened the door, head bent, the dog clutched to my chest, the tears starting to flow. Maybe I was aware of my parents sitting on the chairs by the wall, standing as I rushed past. But I don’t think so. I don’t think I was aware of anything. Not the running down the corridor, out through the doors and into the blinding rain. I don’t remember the car sliding up and a door opening. I cannot recall the journey home through the wind and the hail and the lightning flashes breaking the night. I have no recollection of closing my bedroom door, throwing myself on my bed and surrendering myself to despair.
16
I don’t remember those things because they didn’t happen. They are what I imagine my mother thought was happening. This is what did.
Aiden lay in a hospital bed. He was reading a book and there were three or four pillows behind his back, keeping him propped up. Hearing the door open, he turned his head and did a double-take when he saw me.
‘Ashleigh! What are you doing here?’
The dog twisted and squirmed in my arms and I had to put him on the floor. There was no choice; he was so excited to see Aiden that there was no holding him. As soon as his paws hit the ground, he scrambled across and jumped on the bed. Aiden laughed and put out his arms, but the dog launched into his face, licking frantically wherever he could find flesh. The dog’s whole body was charged with joy. It took Aiden a moment to settle him down, by which time I’d sat on a chair by the side of the bed.
‘We don’t have much time, Aiden,’ I said. ‘You must listen closely and d
o exactly what I say. Do you understand?’
He laughed. ‘Not exactly the hug I was expecting under the circumstances, Ash —’
‘Aiden, listen.’ I took his hand in mine. ‘Keep quiet and listen. You will die unless you do exactly what I say. This is not a joke. This is not an exaggeration. You will die.’
He shook his head.
‘Remember the camp, Aiden,’ I said. ‘I didn’t really know what was happening, but you saved me. Now you don’t know what is happening and it’s my turn to save you. Do you trust me, Aiden?’
‘Yeah, of course, but …’
‘We are going to swap clothes and I am going to get into that bed and pretend to be you. You will take the dog and you will open that door. Keep your head right down. Pretend to be upset, if you can, but whatever you do, don’t stop. Mum and Dad are out there in the corridor. Do not speak to them, no matter what happens. Run as quickly as you can to the outside door. The car will be waiting for you. Get in. It will start to take you home.’ Aiden’s face was full of confusion and questions, but I ignored it. ‘This next bit is very important. I don’t know how long I will be able to pretend to be you, but sooner or later, they’ll know you’re gone. So as soon as possible, use the emergency override stop button in the car, get out and run. Do not go home. Find Xena. Your tablet is in the pocket of my dress. I will call you as soon as I can.’
‘But this is crazy, Ashleigh. You can’t expect me to do all this without any explanation.’
I was already pulling my dress off over my head. I threw the headband onto the bed and kicked off my sandals.
Catch Me If I Fall Page 15
