Killswitch, page 27
“Uh huh.” But she was frowning.
“Is that what’s been bothering you?” I asked. Now it was beginning to make sense. “You think we need to do what? There’s nothing we could do anyway.”
“No,” she said with a sigh. “No, you’re right. I’m overthinking it. Let’s go eat.”
We stood and brushed sand from our bodies. I picked up the blanket. Then Rin turned to me and said, “But why hasn’t it left?”
I knew Rin. She wouldn’t let this go. I almost wanted to shout at her. Instead, I took a breath and spoke in what I hoped was a calm and reasonable tone.
“Would you?” I asked. “It’s got a human personality. Why would it want to die?”
“Because that was its programming,” Rin said. “It wasn’t supposed to be immortal. It should have deleted itself.”
“Well,” I said, uncomfortably aware that she had a point. “It said it needed to be around to eliminate any future threat.”
Rin made a dismissive sound. “If it wanted to make sure that no bad AI occurred again, it could just make its own Killswitches.”
“Yes,” I said. “But I think it really believes it’s the only one that could do the job.” I suddenly remembered Pallburg’s memory, the fight with Rin’s Mom, where she’d accused him of believing he was “the smartest ape in the room.”
A bolt of shame shot through me. I still hadn’t told Rin that Pallburg was her father. The Pallburg Kernel apparently had changed its mind and had come to accept that its creator was dead. But it had cleared me of the murder and strongly hinted that the Sentience had killed him.
And yet, some part of me wished Pallburg had lived. Because then it would have been his job, not mine, to tell Rin that she had a father.
In the few moments that I’d been thinking about this, Rin had taken off. She was striding down the beach and I had to hurry to catch up.
“Rin,” I said. “Listen! We’re out of this! You can just be you again.”
“No, I can’t,” she said angrily. “You don’t understand. It’s not done!”
She stopped and swung around to face me. Her face was flushed. “You said it yourself just now. The ghost thinks it’s the only one that can stop a future threat. It wants a hand on the wheel. All the time. Forever.”
“So it’s got an ego,” I said. “That doesn’t mean it’s going to follow the same program as the Sentience. It was designed to prevent an AI from seizing ultimate power. That’s the reason it exists, the core of its programming.” I hoped she was hearing me. “That’s a line it can never cross.”
She shook her head.
“Doesn’t matter if it’s the same goal if it’s the same outcome,” she said. “Trino was a good guy, too. Until he wasn’t.”
“Trino tricked us all,” I said. “He was always out only for himself.”
She nodded. “Yes, that’s it, you see? That’s what’s been worrying me. Trino thought he was the only one who could win the battle, and the rest of us were just fodder.”
I stopped, stunned. I didn’t like the comparison between the Kernel and Trino, but I couldn’t deny it entirely. History was full of leaders wearing benevolent masks whose ideals kindled tyranny and slaughter. I remembered an ancient writer talking about the Romans conquering people: “They make a desert and call it peace.”
I went cold. Now I thought I understood what was gnawing at Rin. But still, I held back.
I put a hand on her arm. “Rin,” I said as gently as I dared. “This isn’t our job. Not anymore.”
“It’s mine,” she said softly, and her eyes held a warmth I hadn’t seen lately. “Mavo, it’s not just about saving the world. It’s about saving you.” She touched the crystal at her throat like a talisman.
And there it was. I’d hoped she given up on that mission, that we could be just ourselves, the two of us. But here was Rin, still with Brian’s dead hand at her back.
“You don’t need to protect me,” I said stiffly, and dropped my hand from her arm.
She looked startled, and for an instant her gaze hardened. Then, she looked away as if collecting herself. After a long moment, she looked back into my eyes.
“You haven’t thought this through,” she said, biting off each word.
“What am I missing, then?” I said, not bothering to conceal my resentment.
She made an exasperated sound.
“The ghost is a strategist,” she said. “It’s the Man with the Plan. Like Trino. And just like him, it’ll do what it thinks is necessary to carry out its goals. Look how it sat in your head and tried to control you. To it, you were just a game piece. Only now, it has a bigger board.”
“Which means?”
“Which means,” she said, frustration piquing her voice. “That you’re not a critical piece anymore, Mavo. It won’t hesitate to sacrifice you!”
She seemed about to say more but suddenly went silent. It was a hard silence. I gawked at her. She’d clenched her fists and her whole body was shaking with emotion.
I stepped back from her. I suddenly felt ashamed. My worries now seemed blindly selfish compared to hers.
She turned on her heel and strode off. I called out to her, “Rin! Rin!”
She ignored me and picked up her pace until she was almost running, sending gouts of sand flying behind her.
I stood paralyzed. Then I dropped the blanket and scrambled after her. By the time I reached her, I was breathing hard, trying to keep pace.
“Rin, come on!” I said between gasps. “There’s nothing we can do about it, even if we wanted to!”
“Nothing you can do,” she snapped, marching ahead. “But there’s something I can do.” She added under her breath, “And I’m going to hate it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Rin sat on the couch, glaring. Across from her sat a woman with the same stern look. She was about thirty years older than Rin but she had the same face, the same sharp eyes, even the same way of carrying herself. I’d known her name even before she opened the door.
Alleea.
“You’re safe here,” the woman said. “I’ve got the best anti-surveillance tech available. Now what do you want and why are you here? What’s so important, Rinella, that you had to see me in person? It’s not a Unity holiday.”
Rin blushed angrily. “You’re being unfair.”
“Am I? My only child ignores me for a year and hangs out with terrorists. Why not do this the usual way: ‘Hi Mom. I’m fine. How are you? Busy, gotta go. Happy holiday.” She crossed her arms. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re wrong about everything,” Rin said but caught herself. “Sorry, sorry. Let’s start again.”
“Fine,” Alleea said. “You go first.”
I was shell-shocked. The Rin I knew was a peacemaker, someone who brought people together. She had a way of making people like and trust her. Now she was metallic and abrasive.
Rin took a deep breath to speak but in desperation I spoke first.
“Um, it’s very nice of you to see us,” I spouted. “You have a really nice house. Rin has told me a lot about you.”
“No, she hasn’t,” Alleea said drily. “Because she doesn’t know anything about my life. She never comes around.”
Rin stood up. “Oh, I know plenty. I know you tried to control every bit of my life.”
“I tried to protect you and to teach you the reality of things.”
“You tried to brainwash me, you mean,” Rin said icily. “Well, I make my own choices these days and I’m only here because I don’t know anybody else who can help us.”
“Oh, another world-saving mission, is it? Yes, it’s all over the Immersion. You’re heroes. Congratulations.”
“It’s not over,” Rin said, and then she sat down hard. “We need to take down the ghost.”
Alleea nodded “I know. We’re working on it.”
Rin looked thunderstruck. So was I.
“Um,” I ventured. “You already knew we were coming, then?”
“No. I didn’t need to hear from you to know what had to be done. I agreed to see you but really, you’re a distraction. So, it was very nice to see you, Rinella, I love you. Go away.”
Alleea stood. We’d been there all of ten minutes.
Rin didn’t move. “Maybe we can help you,” she said.
“You’d just be in the way, and I don’t want to put you in danger.”
“I can handle myself,” Rin said. “I think that’s obvious.” Her jaw set stubbornly.
“Luck doesn’t run forever,” Alleea said.
“Luck?” She clenched her fists and I saw she was struggling to contain her fury.
They both seemed to have forgotten that I was in the room. Neither one spoke. I wondered which one would erupt first.
Rin finally spoke through gritted teeth. “Well, this was fun, Mom. We should do it again sometime. Are you free on the fifteenth of never?”
“Still a brat,” Alleea said.
Rin retorted, “I bet you turned my bedroom into a junk room.”
“It was a junk room.”
“Fine, I’ll just go clean it out then,” Rin said. “I’ll get a few things and leave.”
“No, don’t go in there!” Alleea said quickly. She moved abruptly to block Rin.
“Why?” Rin asked and then added suspiciously, “Mom, what have you done?”
“I boxed up all your things,” Alleea said. “They’re in the garage. That room is empty.”
“You’re lying.” She brushed past Alleea before she could be stopped and disappeared down the hallway.
I heard a door open and then I heard Rin gasp. Alleea and I both rushed after her. Rin stood frozen in the doorway. I looked into the room. There was a bed, a desk, a chair, other furnishings, all of them soulless and utilitarian. There was nothing that seemed to reflect Rin, except for the man lying on the bed.It was Pallburg.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“I killed you,” I said as we sat in the living room. “Or the Sentience did, I mean.”
“Clearly not,” Pallburg said, stroking his trim beard. “I’d suspected for a while that a self-awareness had emerged in the system. But of course, I had the Killswitches. When they started dying, I knew I had to enact the fallback plan. Which, Mavo, was you.”
“So you set me up,” I said. “First Mom, and now me. You pulled everybody’s strings.”
“That’s hardly fair, young man. You didn’t live through the Collapse. You don’t know what it cost to pull this world back together. If you knew what I knew, you’d consider your sacrifice to be small.”
“It’s not small to me,” I said. “You took my life away, then you made me the most hated person on the planet.”
While Pallburg and I were making friends, Rin and her mother had stepped out of the room. Now I smelled a sweet aroma as they returned. They seemed to have reached some kind of uneasy truce. Alleea was carrying a tray that she set down on the coffee table. It held fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies.
Rin put down a pitcher of milk and a flask of coffee. I realized that we hadn’t eaten before we came to the house.
“You baked these?” I asked Rin.
“My Mom,” Rin said. “She does that.”
“I just pressed a button,” Alleea said. “But the recipe’s good. Help yourselves.”
I didn’t have to be asked twice. My stomach was rumbling and my salivary glands were in overdrive.
These cookies were warm and had crisp golden edges and filled the room with an irresistible scent.
I’d never actually had chocolate chip cookies except in Immersion. They were a luxury overlay that I’d only splurged on a couple of times to embellish some bland protein lump that I was actually eating.
I bit down and the gooey chocolate melted on my tongue. These cookies made the Immersion ones taste cheap and artificial. It seemed Rin’s Mom was a perfectionist in everything she did.
I wondered how Rin had lived with her.
Then I looked hard at Pallburg, He was sitting with one leg casually crossed over the other, a hand tapping his knee— as if he hadn’t just risen from the grave.
Here we were, politely drinking coffee and eating cookies and not mentioning the elephant in the room that was flapping its enormous ears and all but knocking over the furniture with its trunk.
Pallburg and Rin’s mom didn’t seem to be in any rush to reveal that, unknown to Rin, her long-lost father was sitting practically knee to knee with her, sipping from a bone china cup. Although, whenever they thought Rin wasn’t looking, they caught each other’s eyes and then locked them on Rin.
“So, Mom,” Rin began. “You knew each other from work? The world’s savior? And you just never happened to mention that?”
“We didn’t part on the best of terms,” Alleea said, as if that answered the question. “We had a, shall we say...” She paused.
“A philosophical disagreement,” Pallburg finished.
Rin looked as if she were about to press the subject but her mom broke in.
“Which brings us to the situation at hand,” she said. “We have an entity with the personality of Haakon but the resources of the entire Unity system. And, one should note, this entity already has fought a war with another of its kind. It’s well aware of the tactics used to defeat that enemy.”
“So we’re screwed?” I asked.
“Not at all,” Pallburg said. “True, the entity and myself share a personality. We probably can anticipate each other’s moves. That’s why I turned to your mother here.” He winked at Rin. “She has a different take on things.”
“And we came up with ants,” Alleea said.
“Ants?” Rin said. “Like the bugs?”
“My doctorate is in syncomp, synaptic linkage of computational systems, but I also have a master’s in etymology,” Alleea told me. “You do realize that an ant colony is effectively a swarm intelligence? There are a lot of similarities to the Unity system, actually.”
I had a disturbing image of metal ants with display screens for faces clutching white, squirming mechanical larvae and scurrying through dank tunnels.
“The point is,” Pallburg said. “that no single ant leads. Now, I made Unity a decentralized system on purpose just to avoid concentrating power.”
“But,” Alleea broke in. “your alter ego has your arrogant view that only you can really run things. That’s why it refuses to self-destruct.”
“A bit harsh,” Pallburg said but seemed to accept the accusation on some level. “Nonetheless, that is a vulnerability.”
“Why?” Rin asked.
“This time,” Alleea said. “We don’t create a single Kernel. We inject the system with a redistribution program. We create thousands of allies, separately weak and small but capable of nibbling away at parts of the entity.”
“Too many for the Kernel to fight,” Pallburg said. “It will act like an ant colony dismantling a grasshopper.”
“But how do we get it inside?” Rin asked. “It has eyes everywhere.”
Pallburg said, “Your mother worked for decades to create her own backdoors to the system. They were non-functional but over the past few weeks she and I have managed to get one operational. We hope. And the invasion program is ready to go.”
Rin put down her coffee cup, wiped crumbs from her lips and said breezily, “No, it’s not. If it were ready, we wouldn’t be sitting here. Mom, come on. Out with it.”
Alleea turned to Pallburg and her lips quirked.
“Haakon, I do believe you are no longer the smartest chimp in the room,” she said, with a note of pride in her voice.
I could almost hear Pallburg’s thoughts, as if I were reading his mind. He wanted to say, “Like father, like daughter.”
But he didn’t. Instead, he tugged at his beard, cleared his throat, and said, “Mavo, we will need your help. It’s a small thing, really, but important.”
Rin crossed her arms. “Go ahead.”
I had no idea where this was going but some instinct told me to grab another cookie while I had the chance.
Pallburg said, “Let’s imagine that our plan works and a swarm of attackers enters Unity and begins dismantling the entity, effectively shrinking its reach and even its intelligence. As resources are gobbled up or disconnected, it will stage a fighting retreat. It doesn’t want to die, no more than any living creature.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It will coalesce, draw together whatever programming remains to it, and look for refuge,” Pallburg said.
“But will your ants be able to kill it?” I asked.
“Eventually,” Pallburg said. “But as long as it remains in the system, there is a danger. It might engage in the computer equivalent of death throes. Its flailing could damage the entire system very badly.”
“There could be deaths on a massive scale,” Alleea said.
Nobody spoke.
“Okay,” Rin said finally. “What’s the alternative?”
Pallburg spoke. “We bait it into leaving the system. We offer it a place to hide.”
Suddenly the cookie was dust in my mouth. My stomach was acid.
Rin said, “No way!”
Pallburg spoke to her almost gently. “It’s Mavo’s decision, Rin.”
“Make another Killswitch!” Rin said, her voice rising. “You did it before!”
“Rinella, that would take years,” Alleea said. “We don’t have the time.”
“There’s got to be some other way,” Rin said. She slapped the coffee table, knocking over her cup and scattering cookies on the floor.
“If there were some other way, believe me, we would use it,” Pallburg said. “If I had a lockbox in my brain, I would gladly use it. But I do not. It’s just fortunate that you arrived, Mavo. It almost makes me believe in fate.”
There was another silence. Then Rin said softly, “It’ll eat his memories.”
“We think not,” Pallburg said. “The entity will naturally conform itself to the available dataspace. But you, Mavo, clearly managed to wall it off before. I’m counting on you to do the same again.”
