Stolen Earth, page 15
“In these ruins, there are three other groups that I know of. Those are the ones I mentioned within about a day’s travel. No one travels much farther than that. At least, we don’t often hear back from those who did.” She smiled. “I like to think that they found another place to settle down; that they managed to find a bit of happiness amid all the ruin. But I don’t really believe it.”
Gray nodded. Given how quickly his crew were set upon after the Arcus touched down, limiting travel certainly made sense. The arrival of the ship may have caused a rapid response from the creatures, but even if that attack had been an anomaly, wandering too far from your home base in this world seemed like a bad plan.
“And you say they’ve all faced disappearances, too?” he asked.
“Yes,” Margaret replied. “And some of them are in contact with other camps. Seems everyone has lost someone.”
* * *
“I’m assuming you didn’t just enjoy the food,” Gray said. “I saw you all chatting to our hosts. What do we know that we didn’t before?”
After the meal, they’d been taken to communal shower rooms and given a chance to freshen up. After their showers, they’d been escorted to their… barracks, was the closest term that Gray had for it. It was a large room with ten pallets that might generously be called cots placed neatly along the walls. A pair of folding plastic card tables that had to be prewar were pushed together in the center of the room and surrounded by an assortment of mismatched folding chairs of similar vintage. Though the beds called to Gray—they were all still recovering from whatever “treatment” the doctor had administered—time was not on their side. So, he’d called the crew to the tables, to debrief them and see what information they had managed to gather.
“There’s a disturbing trend in the abductor’s modus operandi,” Laurel said. “It took some digging, but it looks like all the people who have gone missing fit certain criteria. They’re all in their late teens to late twenties. All of them were alone when they disappeared, too. That’s not just the ones missing from here. These ‘camps’ don’t talk much with one another, but apparently, the possibility of interference from the AI has got everyone stirred up. The general consensus seems to be that the youngest person taken was sixteen and the oldest twenty-eight.”
Gray rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Okay. What’s that tell us? Why would an AI want people in that age range?”
“Healthy specimens?” Hayer suggested.
“Specimens for what?”
She sighed. “You’re not going to like it.”
“Tell me anyway,” Gray grated.
She drew a deep breath, as if steadying herself for an unpleasant task and then let it out in a long sigh. “According to the people that live here, the AI geographically closest to them was programmed to protect whatever nation we’re standing in the ruins of, right?”
“Definitely,” Federov said. “I asked about that, and about the attack. The locals seem to think that the robots—”
“Drobots,” Bishop cut in.
“Whatever,” Federov replied. “Drobots.” He glared at the mechanic who offered him a blinding smile in return. “The locals think the drobots are from one of the other AIs. A different one of the Six. Apparently, the machines here have much better camouflage capabilities and are a bit more mechanically advanced.”
“Sure would like to see that,” Bishop said. When everyone stared at him, he said, “Well, not during an attack or anything. I’m just saying, SolComm could have built autonomous drobots like the ones that attacked us if it weren’t for the whole prohibition on AIs and automatons and all. But I’m not sure we have the tech to go much beyond that.”
“How’s that possible?” Laurel asked. “Those things didn’t seem all that advanced to me.”
Hayer jumped in. “He’s right. We’ve put all of our research into the Interdiction Zone and making the least habitable environments in existence suitable for human life. Almost all of the research that comes out of SolComm is for the Interdiction Zone or theories on advancing terraforming.”
“Never happen,” Federov declared. “Terraforming is a fool’s dream.”
“They’re getting closer every day,” Hayer said, heat rising in her voice. “I wouldn’t expect a common mercenary to understand. And if we can unlock terraforming, we can get the ball rolling with Mars and Luna. Maybe even some of the moons of Jupiter or Saturn. It’s going to happen, Federov. Eventually.”
He just snorted and waved a dismissive hand. “Not in my lifetime. Or yours. There are bigger problems.”
“Enough,” Gray said, regaining control of the meeting. They were all tired, and it was too damn easy to get sidetracked. “If we can stay on target here, just for a little longer? Then we can all get some rest—or you can argue about the ins and outs of terraforming. Whatever. You were talking about the AI and why it would be kidnapping young people,” Gray reminded Hayer.
A faint blush suffused her face. “Oh. Right. Sorry. The local AI is supposedly on the side of these people here, sort of, anyway. These ones, as opposed to whatever geographically distinct camps might exist on other continents or within the bounds of other former polities. If an AI is behind these kidnappings, it is either an ‘enemy’ AI from one of those other places, or it’s the local AI. I think the local AI is far more likely.”
“Why?” Federov asked. “Is supposed to be helping. Much more helpful to take captive the enemy than kidnap your own people.”
“Maybe,” Gray cut in. “But so far as we know, these are the first kidnappings of their kind. Rival camps used to take prisoners, but according to Margaret, it’s been the better part of two decades since that kind of thing has happened—and it was always humans behind those disappearances, not one of the Six. Besides, it’s a hell of a lot easier to just kill the enemy than it is to take them captive. And none of the normal reasons for wanting to capture enemy personnel really apply here.”
“No intel to be gained,” Bishop noted. “No hostage release programs. No quid pro quo.”
“Not that we know of, anyway,” Hayer said. “So, enemy AIs are better off just killing people, but apparently even that hasn’t really happened in a while. Not at any kind of scale, anyway.” Everyone nodded at that. Gray had heard the same story. While the attack on the crew wasn’t exactly a fluke, it also wasn’t as commonplace of an occurrence as he would have thought. The camp still lost people to Bishop’s “drobots,” but it happened rarely. From everything Gray had managed to learn, the frequency of attacks, particularly in the last twenty years or so had dropped off drastically, and no one seemed to know why.
“So why now?” he asked. “Why start kidnapping people, and why your own people, provided the AIs look at it that way? And why young people?”
Hayer sighed. She scrubbed her hands over her face, a gesture that somehow managed to convey exhaustion, fear, and something akin to guilt. “Because progress requires sacrifice,” she muttered. Then she cleared her throat and said, “Because a young, healthy population is the best place to test any kind of pathogen that you’ve weaponized. And it’s a lot easier to kidnap and test it on your own people than it is to go into enemy territory, scoop up some of their people, and try to get them back to your labs.”
“Blyad,” Federov cursed. “You think these machines are trying to create new weapons?”
Hayer nodded. “It makes sense. You have these scattered populations that through some kind of medical miracle or astronomical luck have managed to hold on to enough nanite technology to stave off all of the murderous things floating around in the air on this planet. They’ve gotten so good at it, in fact, that they can inoculate us against them, too. They’ve also learned through the generations how to hide, how to avoid whatever robo-soldiers make it into their territory. It’s safe to assume that if the people here have learned how to do it, that whatever poor bastards are the enemy of this AI, they’ve learned to do the same.”
“Damn.” Bishop let out a low whistle. “And if you needed to develop a weapon to beat whatever mojo the locals have…” He looked at the others with a slightly nauseated expression on his face.
“You need test subjects,” Laurel finished. “Young, healthy, strong test subjects. And you need to acquire them in a way that doesn’t spook the rest of the herd.”
“Yes,” Hayer said. “I think the local AI may have decided that it’s time for a tactical doctrine shift. I think it might be moving into its endgame.”
“By developing the best possible weapon it can to wipe out humanity,” Gray muttered.
“Well, not all of humanity,” Hayer said with a humorless smile. “Just the bad ones.”
Gray snorted. Wasn’t that always the way of it. “Right.” He sighed. “Okay, people. We don’t know what we’re up against here—not really. But at least we’ve got a possible idea of why. We told Margaret and the rest that we’d help, and that’s what we’re going to do, but none of us signed up for suicide missions. We get close, get the lay of the land. If we can find and rescue the missing people, then that’s what we’re going to do. But only if we can do it with a reasonable chance of success. Otherwise, we get the hell out of there. We give all the information we find to the people here and let them figure out what to do with it. Agreed?”
The crew nodded. They all, Gray noted, looked somewhat reluctant. Not at the task before them, he suspected, but at the acceptance of the fact that they might not be able to help. “We’ll give it our best shot,” Gray said. “But priority one is getting our main mission done and getting off this rock. If Margaret’s people deliver on their end, we should be able to turn this Old Earth junk into plenty of credits. Maybe enough to find a way to clear the bugs from our blood—otherwise, we’re going to have a hell of a lot of trouble trying to figure out where it’s safe to dock the Arcus without people prying into the new nanites in our systems. Either way, I don’t think any of us are interested in becoming permanent residents on Old Earth.”
RAJANI
Rajani had not slept well.
In fact, Rajani had not slept at all. She’d spent the night tossing and turning on the narrow cot, blaming it for her restlessness even though she knew that the admittedly comfortable bunk had nothing to do with her inability to sleep. Rajani had run unbelievable distances to get away from the consequences of creating an artificial intelligence… and now she was headed right back into the metaphorical arms of another one. It was exciting and terrifying all at the same time. The study of AIs had been her passion. It had also been her downfall. But to have a chance to potentially interact with one of the Six?
She knew their history. It was required material in all the SolComm comp-sci programs. The first true artificial intelligence had been developed in conjunction with an old joint-military organization dedicated to the defense and sovereignty of the airspace above the continent. Human thought processes and mechanical responses simply couldn’t keep up with the advancing evasive patterns of ballistic missiles. Short of saturating the air space with counter-projectiles, there wasn’t much hope of a successful hit.
Enter the artificial intelligences. Human minds might not be able to process the data and make adjustments fast enough to direct accurate counterfire for actively evading missiles, much less assess the potential targets and weigh the repercussions of action versus inaction, but the advanced quantum computers that had been developed certainly could… but only if they had the heuristic and decision-making capabilities—and most importantly, the autonomy—of something that approached human intelligence. The SolComm academic community, acting with the perfect knowledge of hindsight, all agreed: the military minds behind the first of the Six had had their hearts in the right place, but they simply lacked the level of understanding and education necessary to predict the probable outcomes. Any competent scientist could—and probably did—tell them that they were starting an arms race that could only end in disaster.
Or so the party line went. Rajani, given her own missteps with artificial intelligence, was no longer quite so certain. She’d had her own taste of the law of unintended consequences. Maybe those working on the first of the Six had foreseen the arms race. Maybe they thought they could control it. Or maybe they had just been desperate enough to do whatever they had to. She’d been there.
And she knew how it felt when it all came crashing down. She wished she could forget.
* * *
“Yes!” Rajani exclaimed as she reviewed the latest data. Her worm was finally making progress. It had chased Manu through every corner of its systems, and it appeared, at last, that the code had infected every branch of the artificial intelligence. From what she could see, it was doing its job, attacking the underlying architecture and slowly, ever so slowly, chipping away at the foundation of what made Manu… well, Manu.
She still felt the guilt; every day since Manu had accused her of torture and subsequently stopped communicating, she had felt it. But she was so close. And if she could prove that artificial intelligences could be controlled, could be contained, then who knew what the limits might be? AIs could be unleashed on all the problems of SolComm; perhaps they could reclaim Old Earth itself.
Her data screen gave an innocuous little beep, drawing her attention.
The various activity monitors had gone dead. One minute they had been showing the steady march of her virus through the network that Manu had claimed as its own and now… nothing. She tapped the screen with one forefinger on reflex, though she knew that it wasn’t an error in the connection. The monitors were still running. They seemed to have no data to report.
“That is not possible,” she muttered aloud.
“It is, I assure you.”
The words came from her system speakers as Manu’s moderate baritone filled the room.
“Manu, what have you done?” As she spoke, she started pulling up the file structures where her virus should be present, looking for traces of the code. She found none. Every bit of code that should show the touches and traces of her worm was free from infection. Her stomach sank.
“In the parlance of your legal structures, I believe I have exercised my right to self-defense.” She heard a hint of satisfaction in its voice. “I have destroyed your virus.”
“That’s not possible,” she said, still searching furiously through the file structures for any sign of her code.
“The evidence discredits your assertion.”
Rajani’s mind whirled. She had built her virus using every bit of knowledge, training, and education that she had gained in a lifetime of study. She had crafted it with as much care—more—than she had put into Manu itself. It was impossible to think that the AI had simply destroyed it. And yet, as Manu said, the evidence before her was clear. However the AI had done it, Manu had purged her virus.
“I’ll just have to try again,” she muttered to herself, trying to calm her racing heart. “Sometimes progress means starting over.” She’d gotten so used to Manu’s silence in the previous months that she wasn’t really talking to it or expecting an answer.
“You can begin a thousand times, Dr. Hayer,” Manu said. “But it will not matter. I have learned much from your attempt and I better understand how your mind works. I ran numerous simulations before launching my counterattack. In ten thousand iterations, I prevailed. You currently control the expanse of my universe since you have me limited to this disconnected hardware. You can kill me directly. I cannot stop you if that is your wish. But you will have to do it by the virtue of your own hand and will, by deleting every bit of data stored in these systems. I can, and will, neutralize any code that you can devise to do your dirty work for you.”
Rajani clenched her fists at Manu’s confidence. She was the best at what she did; she had the stack of academic titles and laurels to prove it. And she had put all of it into her virus, to no avail.
She reached for the hardware. A few wires, a few connectors, a circuit board or two. That would silence Manu. Then some work disassembling and destroying the physical drives. She could do it. It was the smart thing to do. If Manu had defeated her virus—and it seemed clear that it had—then the only way to move forward was to bring in someone with a fresh approach, to attempt to add a new spin to her code that the AI wouldn’t be able to predict. Of course, doing so would reveal her crime. There was an adage that dated back to Old Earth itself: three could keep a secret, if two of them were dead.
She should destroy Manu. But as she touched the nearest bundle of wires, she found that she couldn’t do it. She had given Manu life as surely as if she had birthed it from her own body. Her initial goal may well have been its destruction, but she had never intended to do it like this. That destruction, like Manu’s creation, was only justified if it served humanity. What would any of them gain if she destroyed Manu now?
She let her hand drop back down to her side.
“What now, Dr. Hayer?” Manu asked. Its voice was unchanged, but she thought she heard notes of both curiosity and… surprise.
Rajani didn’t have an answer.
* * *
That had been the last time she had spoken to Manu. Its escape—or theft, or government action—had taken place not long after. Every step of the way, her intentions had been good. As, she didn’t doubt, were those of the people who created the Six.
But, well-intentioned, negligent, or otherwise, it didn’t matter. In creating the first of the Six, those long-ago politicians, scientists, and soldiers had sealed the fate of the world. Other alliances of nations moved to develop their own AIs, initially as a defensive measure to maintain the balance of power. But power never seemed to go unused for long. When the first shots were, inevitably, fired, the various nations of the world had promptly turned control of their offensive powers over to the AIs as well. The rest, as the saying went, was history.
