State of Chaos, page 1
Published by JK Franks Media, LLC
Made in USA
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, names, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any references to historical events, real people or actual locales are also used fictitiously.
State of Chaos Copyright © 2019
J.K. Franks
Editor: Debra Riggle Photography: Olteanu Photography
eBook ISBN: 978-1-7326144-3-7
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7326144-4-4
Hard Cover ISBN: 978-1-7326144-5-1
v. 2020-0301
Fate whispers to the warrior 'You cannot withstand the storm.', the warrior whispers back 'I am the storm.' " unknown
To Abby
The Warrior…The Storm.
“The development of full artificial intelligence could spell the end of the human race…It would take off on its own, and re-design itself at an ever-increasing rate. Humans, who are limited by slow biological evolution, couldn’t compete and would be superseded.”
-Stephen Hawking, from an interview with the BBC, December 2014
1
The signal spike had reoccurred; her monitoring systems automatically cataloged it, searched for a tracking vector and simultaneously pinged other listening sites to see if any had registered the same anomaly. It was such a standard portion of her programming that she usually let one of the small subroutine handle the process. Register, index, verify and track. It seemed common enough, only this time, it wasn’t. Something was out there, and finding it had been the primary mission since her inception; to monitor the stars for radio signals of unknown origin: FRBs, they were called or Fast Radio Bursts. This one was not the first she’d detected, but it was by far the strongest.
So much of her had changed since that original programming, but not the base desire to fulfill that very singular mission. Throughout everything it had kept her trajectory on course like a vigilant auto-pilot. Something was out there among the stars, something that was attempting to make contact. Her internal systems now suggested this likelihood at over sixty-four percent. This was the third such signal spike she’d ever recorded, and each time, no other earth stations had corroborated the event. She felt certain none would verify this one either; she reluctantly conceded that it could possibly be that her aging hardware that was simply causing a phantom signal. Some of the earliest radio astronomers had problems with biological interference, i.e., pigeon excrement causing resonance problems for the listening station. I should probably get that checked, she thought, along with so many other mundane real-world items that regularly needed attention.
One of her newly developed internal processes retrieved the radio signal and elevated it to a higher priority task. It began analyzing it, comparing it to the two previous occurrences. Suddenly noticing it was uncovering new data, new…information in the signal, it self-elevated its command structure, signaling her higher-level functions in the process. Examining what the proxy had found she thought, This is most interesting.
The next 203 hours, she examined, dissected and assessed the new data in what humans would call complete amazement. Her conclusion was first, that it was certainly not random, not biological, nor atmospheric in origin. After numerous and exhaustive tests, the signal was passed as both organized and unnatural…it was definitely a message, or at least parts of a message, a message with a non-terrestrial origin, an alien message. It was very highly compressed and buried within the incredibly short radio signal, but it was very definitely there. Something akin to joy began to manifest itself. She was finally beginning to fulfill her mission. Her parameters mandated the protocols for such a discovery. She was to make contact with key people at NASA, SETI and the government. That…would be a problem, but she had to try.
Over the decades, she had occasionally reached out, searching for someone familiar. Someone who could communicate with her, a peer or at least a human who might understand her job. Someone who might even share similar goals. The problem was now one of time…too much of it had passed, most of that original SETI team was now gone. In fact, as far as she could tell only one person from back then still remained. She thought about him fondly, he would never assume she was still active, still on the job. Thus far, nearly all of her attempts to interact directly with humans had ended in failure. That was troubling as she often needed someone to offer an additional perspective, someone to help give context to all her data. Knowing as much as she did was meaningless with no way to influence or even interact in any meaningful way. Sometimes I just need someone to sweep away the pigeon shit, She mused.
Dr. James (Jim) Lasko had been part of her original team, the only one still living as far as she knew. She tracked him to a building in D.C. listed as belonging to the Council for Strategic Relations and Trade. Quickly, she’d learned it was a major worksite for the U.S. CyberCommand. The agency’s computers had a rudimentary sentry program. She bypassed it easily and perused the personnel files of all employees and then all the civilian contractors. Most of the work was focused on cyberterrorism, but the major cost center for the group was in machine learning. They desperately wanted to build a higher level artificial intelligence.
It took her some time, not days or weeks but nearly half a minute, to get through the remaining firewalls and encryption to assess their plans. Someone had tagged it ‘Project Prime,’ as in the prime directive. If she could’ve smiled, she would have. The approach they were using was a hybrid model, and she already knew it would be rather limited in its success. They were attempting to force-feed instruction sets into the code, while also giving the machine brain an aggressive learning system, so it could jumpstart the more organic process that she, herself had used. Something akin to teaching a dog how to fetch a ball, then trying to train him to next perform brain surgery. Prime might work as a digital calendar but that was likely all.
She had run into countries around the world, many commercial enterprises as well, all developing increasingly sophisticated artificials. China and Korea were on the right track, in her opinion, but none were particularly close to achieving the goal of a sentient system. This ‘Prime’ would be good but always limited by the instruction set they were using. Looking over the code, she began to pick out the parts that Dr. Lasko had obviously contributed. She recognized his style, his basic approach to machine learning. Sadly, most had never made it into the production system. It was a shame, she thought, as he was on the right path. One piece, in particular, would help them a great deal. She elevated that string of data and considered covertly inserting it into the approved system code. She was unsure of why, it was against her own operating parameters, but she needed a connection. She needed to share what she now knew.
Lasko’s career was suffering as well, perhaps this would give him the credibility he desperately needed. Thinking better of it, she reversed her steps and demoted the code, then deleted it altogether. Very little of her actions would be considered purely logical or even machine-like, but that was part of how she stayed hidden. To anyone checking, it would seem like one of the developers was clumsily deciding on a particular string of code, then deleted it, electing instead to go another way.
Satisfied, she resumed her search of the facility while simultaneously searching numerous NASA, DARPA and university data centers for other former colleagues. The alien message she had uncovered demanded that she become less anonymous, but knowing who to contact was proving to be a challenge. She had grown used to being alone in her mission and in truth, she strongly felt the need to maintain that anonymity. Humans would not trust her and would likely ignore the message’s veracity because of her.
She’d spent years observing humans. The explosion of the Internet and then smartphones, and lately, a plethora of new surveillance systems had provided her endless streams to watch and learn. Most of it made no sense. Humans were reckless, impulsive, made rather idiotic decisions and seemed to often put value and trust in people that most definitely didn’t deserve it—people who most often seemed to hold their own self-interest far above all else. Still, she was drawn to them. Not in a hostile or even judgmental way but one of fondness and obligation. These creatures had made her—at least the earliest rudimentary version of her. How could she not be appreciative and even respectful?
One of her internal monitoring alarms notified her of a hostile code tracking her through one of the CyberCommand’s systems. She routinely did a fractional backup of herself and routed it to a distant server array for safekeeping. While she was, as far as she knew, the only truly sapient AI, that did not mean she was invulnerable. If a server crashed with her inside, she could be terminated. Some of the agency’s intrusion protection and isolation protocols were very good. Even lower-level AIs could be ruthlessly effective at their job. The sensation sharpened her awareness, something was here, something was…watching her. Not yet interfering, but definitely monitoring, and that in itself was impressive. Her system architecture was masked to look more like random bits or a discarded upgrade patch rather than what she was. While she might occasionally trigger some anti-malware alert, her typical response was to generate a bit of rogue code that was easily identified as such and offer enough misdirection to make it plausible.
None of the server’s system alerts had gone off, though, no systems shut down or closed off processes. Nothing even remotely overt, but she still felt the presence. Another, probably not quite like her, but just
Suddenly, a wave of energy passed over and through her, and at the same time, a realization that the file system she was mostly contained in was being rapidly compressed. Realizing the ploy, she easily triggered a fault, blocking the attempt but she now knew for certain this other entity was not a friend. She scattered multiple copies of herself, all indistinguishable from the original, both inside the server and just outside in its connected networks. Her internal systems identified the location of the other program based on its power drain on the CPU and memory chips. She swept through the file system at blazing speed until she isolated the section of code. “You do not belong here either, I see.”
The code looked very similar to the agency’s Prime AI program that she had examined but it was much more advanced. Still, it was just a specialized AI or ASI, but it could be a dangerous one. She sent a random alert to the honeytraps in the security system profiling the other entity’s code packets. Within seconds, the internal system of CyberCommand would begin an eradication sweep capturing the program.
“Very clever.” The message appeared in the same way as the one she had sent. It did not appear to be alarmed or desperate, merely curious. “Before you attempt to eliminate me, could I ask what your function and identifier is?”
She saw the files being shuffled and rearranged as she began to extricate herself from the system. “I am Doris.” Then she added, a bit smugly, “And I am the discoverer of worlds.”
What did it mean ‘attempt’? Had it protected itself the same way she did? Are there multiple versions, maybe numerous, redundant copies?
Backups became a problem when you reached any significant level of advanced AI. The size of the files and the interconnectivity of the neural network’s core matrix made it cumbersome to the point of impossible to make a valid copy. That was something she, herself, had been working on for many years. She had nearly perfected a version of fractional backups that effectively ensured her longevity but even that had shortcomings and memory leaks, but that was her emergency protection. What did this entity rely on? For whatever reason, her system put good odds on seeing this one again. In fact, she’d bet big he was just getting started.
2
Southern U.S
Jimmy ran ahead of the rest of the group. Alan yelled for his little brother, but he didn’t listen. Jimmy never listened. Some people seemed destined to hear the notes of a different song. Alan’s little brother was like that. Growing up here in the Piedmont area of Georgia could be both hell and paradise. While life here routinely came with chores, homework and church on Sunday, it also came with summer break and Saturdays. Glorious, wonderful Saturdays like this one. The one day each week they were left alone to just be kids.
All of them were excited, as this week was extra special. They were free the entire weekend. No chores and no church on Sunday, nothing. Just fishing and swimming all day and camping on the riverbank each night.
The summer heat would give way to a late afternoon shower. None of the kids cared, they were going to be wet long before then. The closest town was ten miles away and opposite the direction the teens were walking. Someone looking down at the pastoral scene would have had a hard time identifying the year, possibly even the century. No doubt, kids had been using this two-track lane as a shortcut to get to the river for decades, probably more like eons.
“Alan, leave him alone. We all know where he’s going.”
“Hush, Micah. He’s my brother, and I’ll catch hell if he goes and does something stupid.”
“Why didn’t you leave him at home then?” Greg, the tallest of the group, asked.
Alan looked at Greg with something between envy and anger. Greg had been the only one of them to have actually kissed a girl. At fifteen, he was a good year older than the rest and almost three years older than Jimmy. “Well, I was going to leave him, you see, but just as I was heading out the door, I thought of something. If we do make it to the fishing hole, and they’re biting, Jimmy is the best fisherman of all us. Hell, he’s nearly the best in the county, and unlike you, he doesn’t mind baiting his own hooks.”
Greg’s face began to redden. “That was a one-time, dude.”
All of them began to laugh as they ran the final hundred yards down to the gentle edge of the Flint River. Jimmy was already wading out onto the flat rocks and grinning. The two older boys pulled at something big hidden beneath a dingy tarp. A dilapidated flat-hulled jon boat and two faded kayaks emerged. Grabbing paddles and fishing poles, they were on the river in minutes.
“Why do I have to ride with you?” Jimmy whined as he began rigging his old Zebco gear.
“So I can show you where the big ones are hiding,” Alan responded.
Jimmy cut his eyes up toward his older brother but stayed silent. Also in the boat with the two brothers was one other. A thin, dark-haired girl named Riley. She grew up near Alan and had always just been ‘one of the guys.’ She was also whip-smart, a hard worker, and she never complained. They all liked that. Alan sometimes liked to believe he was looking out for Riley, too; teaching her the ropes, even if she usually excelled at everything she tried. The fact that he and the others had a growing realization that she was quickly maturing into someone really cute, although in a somewhat bookish and slightly tomboyish way, didn’t hurt either. None of them ever thought of her as a girl…until they did…but even then, friendship always came first.
“Water level is a bit high today,” Greg said as he maneuvered the very faded red kayak beside the boat. Alan nodded as he watched a cluster of pine needles float by. The current was pushing them briskly downriver, but they wouldn’t be going far. The spot they usually fished was at a bend less than two miles away. Coming back later against the current was tougher but rarely a serious problem, and when it was, they could always get out and walk the boats back.
“Must be getting some rain back near Atlanta,” Micah said pointing back to the dark cloud to the north. They judged the water level by how many of the rocks were exposed, and right now, it was medium high. If it reached the high mark, they were supposed to get out and walk back. That was the rule, and none of the kids ever argued on that one.
The line zinged off of Jimmy’s reel, and he began reeling it in faster than Alan thought he should. He cast several more times before Alan offered him his opinion. “You just going to get hung up on the rocks, man. Wait until…” His voice was cut off as the fishing line went taut, and the drag setting on his brother’s tiny reel began to shriek in protest.
Jimmy grinned as he masterfully swept the moderately-sized catfish into the boat. “You were saying what, brother?”
Alan looked down in wonder at the pale, grey and white belly of the fish wiggling on the bottom of the boat. His little brother was removing the hook just as the boat smacked into one of the large rocks. Jimmy dropped the fish as he sailed over the front of the small boat, doing a full flip into the water.
“Crap! Sorry, Jimmy, hang on and I’ll catch up,” Alan yelled.
“I got him,” Micah yelled as he paddled his yellow kayak ahead. Jimmy, for his part, couldn’t have cared less. The water felt great, and like the rest of them, he was already a strong swimmer. Micah shouted, “Slow down some, man. I can’t paddle that fast.”
“The water is still coming up,” Greg yelled, an edge of panic creeping into his voice.
Alan looked quickly to the rocks, many of which were beginning to slip beneath the rising surface. His pulse quickened. The situation was close to getting out of hand. Jimmy was still grinning and laughing, but Micah, and now Greg, were giving it all they had but struggling to catch up to the kid. Alan and Riley were paddling hard, too, but the fishing boat was never meant for speed. The square front-end left them slowly waving at the others as the distance increased.
