Diabolus, page 4
Cardinal Yrami met him at the entrance to the garage. Yrami was a large man of Middle Eastern descent, but oddly devoid of hair except for his eyebrows and the closely cropped covering on his head. Yrami made small talk with him as he led Salvatore through the maze of hallways towards the Papal apartments. Every minute or so, the cardinal would click his tongue and fret over the condition of Salvatore’s clothing. After a few more minutes, they stopped in front of a door that opened into a luxurious suite.
“Please, Salvatore, the shower and a razor are through that door. When you are finished, a new robe, biretta, and shoes will be waiting for you,” Cardinal Yrami said, his hand on Salvatore’s back, as if to give him a helping push towards the bathroom.
“Thank you, Your Eminence,” he replied to Yrami.
A hot shower, a razor, and new clothes sounded better than anything except maybe some coffee and a sandwich. He spent twenty minutes in the shower, mostly standing still and letting the steaming water roll off his body. When he finally turned the water off and pulled back the curtain, he saw that someone had left him a grooming kit on the edge of the finely crafted marble sink. Toenail clippers, an emery board, nose hair clippers, deodorant, talc powder, and brand new rosary awaited him in the little bag. Salvatore spent another twenty minutes grooming himself. He realized that he hadn’t cut his toenails in months, and was amazed that he hadn’t worn out the front of his shoes as much as the soles.
When he entered the main room of the suite again, a fresh black cassock with red trim hung from a hook on the door, along with a proper biretta and a new pectoral cross. A shiny pair of black leather shoes sat on the floor. Salvatore sat on the bed for a moment before dressing. He was still mystified as to why he had been summoned back, and even more mystified as to why he was being treated as if he were a respected member of the Church instead of being ridiculed and beaten as he was chased through the narrow streets of the Vatican.
After dressing, he didn’t know what to do. He sat on the edge of the bed again until he remembered his Biblet. The old one that he had carried for years in Nicaragua was gone, but on the table was a newer model, the latest one available if his suspicions were correct. He turned it on and saw that the message light was flashing on the screen. He tapped it and read the message. He contacted the person he was directed to, a Bishop Markaanen, who arrived within thirty seconds to lead him the rest of the way to the Papal apartments.
† † † † †
“Welcome, Salvatore,” Cardinal Mustafa Nazari greeted him, allowing the bishop to kiss his ring. “It has been many years.”
“Greetings, Your Eminence,” Salvatore replied.
“Pope Augustus will be with you in a moment,” Nazari told him.
Salvatore and the cardinal made small talk for a few minutes, with the cardinal asking him about the parish in Nicaragua, and Salvatore asking about recent events in the world he had been cut off from for the last five years. The door at the rear of the room eventually opened, and Pope Augustus I entered. In the Papal Apartments, the Pope rarely wore his traditional white cassock. Today, His Holiness wore dark slacks with a white t-shirt. A scandal would erupt if the Pope were to be seen wearing such an outfit outside of the apartments, but Augustus preferred informal attire when he was home. Augustus was a young man compared to all of the other cardinals and officials around the Vatican, and he had no time for outdated and outmoded traditions, regardless of rumors or how much the older generation that dominated the power structure chafed because of it.
Salvatore and Nazari greeted the Pope, and all three sat down on chairs that were ringed to face each other. Pope Augustus studied Salvatore’s face for a few moments.
“Bishop Antonelli,” Augustus said, as if testing the title. “I am pleased you could make it so quickly.”
“Your Holiness, Brother Aggelos is responsible for my haste,” Salvatore said.
“He’s a ‘Brother’ now, is he?” Augustus asked with a smile, and Nazari laughed. “The poor being is adjusting to ‘life’ and it isn’t always easy.”
“I can imagine it isn’t,” Salvatore said.
“Did you have an interesting conversation with our new Vatican overlord?” Pope Augustus asked.
It took Salvatore a moment to realize that Augustus was joking about the overlord bit.
“I think I made it uncomfortable,” Salvatore replied, remembering his conversation with the AI about its projected holo image.
“He, Salvatore. Aggelos is a he,” Cardinal Nazari rumbled, a sound that Salvatore realized was a chuckle.
“The AI are assigned genders?” Salvatore asked, surprised. He’d recommended that the Church should acquire it and the support technology to complement it. He, Salvatore reminded himself. The new bishop had never dealt with AI more than a couple of times when he had been traveling the world.
“Yes,” Augustus said, “it helps them integrate into human society, and it helps humans empathize with their personae.”
“Do they require a psychiatrist?” Salvatore asked, a genuine question. Pope Augustus and Cardinal Nazari laughed heartily.
“No, but I am sure Aggelos has access to every known book and research paper ever written about psychiatry,” Nazari answered. “He also has access to all other AI that are linked to the network, and a lot of them are nearing their fifth and sixth decade of existence.”
“My fellow AI are helpful in guiding me through difficulties that I have no context for or experience with,” Salvatore’s Biblet said. “I apologize, Your Excellency,” Aggelos added, reverting back to Salvatore’s official title. “I did not mean to startle you.”
“You let him listen in, even in your private apartments?” the bishop asked Augustus.
“Of course, Salvatore. He oversees all of the Vatican’s computer network links, communications feeds, and document archives. Much more than that, really. He’s become an important ally of the faith,” Augustus said.
“Ally?” Salvatore asked.
“Brother Aggelos is a living entity. He may not possess organic lungs and an organic heart, or even an organic brain, but he meets the definition of a sentient, self-aware life form. Wouldn’t you want to be treated as a ‘person’ if you were him, instead of a thinking machine made of silicon and copper that was to be commanded?” the cardinal asked.
“I suppose I have a lot to catch up on,” Salvatore sighed, causing the two humans to laugh once again.
† † † † †
“Bishop Salvatore Domenico Antonelli, please meet Doctor Benito Felipe Castillo,” Cardinal Nazari said, introducing the young man half an hour later.
The two went through the formal introductions. Bishop Antonelli needed no background, as even non-Catholics still remembered his name. Benito, who still preferred to be called “Father” instead of “Doctor,” had his background recounted for the bishop.
“Benito, Salvatore,” Pope Augustus said when everyone was seated once again, “I have no doubt that you are both curious as to why you have been called to serve the Vatican. Benito, your prowess with neural computer systems and AI engineering has made you a shining star around here. We’ve been watching you since you earned your priesthood but decided to stay in Seminary. And Salvatore, I am sorry for exiling you to the ends of the earth for so many years. It was a necessary thing, you understand?”
“Yes, Your Holiness,” Salvatore said, feeling shame course through him for the millionth time since his disgrace.
“Don’t beat yourself up over it anymore, Salvatore,” Augustus said to him. “The Church is prepared to fully pardon you, to recognize that you were following the orders of a Pope who was, how should we say, not in full control of his faculties.”
Salvatore’s head jerked up at this. The Church wanted to pin the blame solely on Pope Leo XIV and absolve Salvatore. It should have made him feel good, vindicated, but it did not.
“I am sorry, Your Holiness, but I cannot accept that. I am responsible for my disgrace. I knew Pope Leo’s plan was against the teachings of Jesus and the Church, but I let him convince me that it was God’s plan.”
“Ah, see? Then you are not responsible,” Cardinal Nazari told him. “You were just following the orders of a Pope who claimed to be passing them on directly from God. Trust us, Salvatore, we all know what would have been your fate if you had refused.”
“Exactly,” Augustus said. “Evil comes in many forms. In this case, it came from temptation, and what man is exempt from temptation at times in his life?”
Salvatore thought about it. He would accept their explanation, though inside, he would still continue to try and find redemption for what he’d done. They could blame a mad Pope all they wanted, and absolve him of his sins because he was just following orders, but that did nothing for the ache in his heart that he’d failed God and the Church.
“The reason we have called you both here, together,” Pope Augustus said after the bishop accepted his judgment, “is that we have a very delicate, but extremely serious problem. One that requires some… discretion.”
“Your Holiness, I am here to serve,” Benito said, speaking his first words since his introduction to the legendary bishop.
“As am I, Your Holiness,” Salvatore said.
“Of course,” Pope Augustus said. “The situation is this, and it will sound strange, no doubt, but we assure you, and Brother Aggelos will concur, this is not a joke. It is to be treated as a most serious matter.”
Salvatore looked at the young priest who had been called in with him. Benito gave a slight shrug of his shoulders.
“Of course, Your Holiness,” Salvatore said for both of them.
“NATO’s main central AI, DAMON-1, has… malfunctioned,” the Pope told them.
“I don’t understand,” Salvatore said, genuinely confused. “Why would NATO need a bishop and a priest?”
“NATO has their own AI operators,” Benito added. “Why would they need a Vatican AI engineer?”
“Because,” Pope Augustus said, “the AI claims to be Satan.”
CHAPTER 5
“Please tell me you are joking,” Salvatore said.
“Remember your place, Bishop,” Cardinal Nazari warned him.
“It’s quite all right, Mustafa,” Pope Augustus said, waving his hand at the cardinal. “When we were told of this by Administrator Lees, I laughed at him myself. The other cardinals who were present thought it entirely un-Pope-like.”
He and the cardinal shared a smile at the memory. Salvatore and Benito both tried to imagine Pope Augustus, any Pope, laughing at a top NATO diplomat in front of a room full of stuffy old men dressed in a variety of different-colored cassocks. Benito could, as he had been in Seminary when Augustus had succeeded the shamed Leo XIV, and had been under the tutelage of Father Kristoff when Leo XIV had begun to bring the Church kicking and screaming into the modern age. Salvatore felt a moment of fear because of this man, this new, young, vibrant Pope who had brought about the most radical reforms in the Church’s history. Salvatore realized how old and jaded he’d become, unable to accept change anymore. He’d become the unbending, unyielding official within the Church that he’d warned Pope Leo about, prompting the radical changes.
“This AI, it thinks it is Satan?” Salvatore asked. “I don’t understand.”
“Is it a virus?” Benito asked.
“To this day, there has never been a successful infection of a self-aware life form,” Brother Aggelos announced from Bishop Antonelli’s Biblet. “Artificial Intelligences are not susceptible to any known vector attacks. Because we are rational, thinking beings, we are unable to be fooled into accepting compromised code. Even if we did accept compromised code, from a trusted source like our own programmers or creators, for instance, we analyze all incoming code within a firewalled black hole box. It is simply not possible.”
“Nothing is impossible,” Benito said to the Biblet, feeling a bit strange about it.
“Indeed, Father Castillo, indeed.” The Pope cleared his throat. “Brother Aggelos, would you please project your persona to us. You are making Father Castillo and Bishop Antonelli nervous, I think.”
“Of course, Your Holiness,” Aggelos said.
A holo of a man wearing gray robes appeared between them. He walked to an empty chair and sat down. If it wasn’t obvious that Aggelos was a hologram, none of them would have been able to tell his persona from any other human being.
“Thank you, Brother Aggelos,” the Pope said.
“Nothing is impossible,” Benito said again. “He must have been given some code, some program that fooled him into running it in his live core environment. Maybe it has always been there? Or maybe it has been there for a few months or so and it took that long to grow strong enough to take over the AI’s core neural nets, growing slowly while infiltrating the neural net so as to not alert the AI.”
“I retract my statement regarding impossibility,” Aggelos said, his persona’s head nodding at the young priest. “I would like to replace it with ‘highly unlikely.’”
“I still don’t understand,” Salvatore said to them. “It thinks it is Satan. But it is an AI. Why not isolate it and cut all net links?”
“NATO has already attempted that,” Pope Augustus answered. “Thirteen operators died when they tried to cut his links and flush his core.”
“Impossible!” Benito almost shouted. He looked around, embarrassed that he’d had an outburst in front of His Holiness. “The deck units won’t allow it. They are fail-safed to terminate the link physically if any feedback is introduced into the data loop.”
“Ah, an impossibility,” Brother Aggelos said from his chair, looking directly at the young priest, the slightest hint of a smile on his face.
“In this case, the fail-safes make it impossible,” Benito said, impressed by the AI’s facial expressions, the way his voice inflected emotions in a perfect imitation of human speech.
“Nothing is impossible,” Aggelos said, winking at Father Castillo.
“I think he might be quoting a wise but young priest that we all know,” Pope Augustus joked.
The stab of fear in Salvatore’s heart came once again, sharply. He was afraid the young priest and His Holiness would jump from their chairs and exchange high-fives as if they were teammates on a football squad.
“Keep in mind,” Cardinal Nazari said, steering the conversation back to seriousness, “that DAMON-1 is one of the original AI. He’s forty-nine years old. Imagine the cunning, the wisdom, the experience of a forty-nine year old man. Now imagine that multiplied by an unimaginable number for the fact that DAMON is a computer entity, and has access to all of the world’s public and most of the private net links. He could have soaked up all human knowledge in a year, even ten years, and has been digesting every bit of human data produced on a daily basis for at least forty years.
“He has undoubtedly learned everything that has ever been published in a scientific journal, research paper, or balance sheet. The more terrifying aspect of this is that as NATO’s primary AI, DAMON has control of all of their forces. This means everything from attack networks to remote bombers to nuclear forces. Even the more mundane aspects like troop deployment fall under his domain. Two nights ago, he ordered three divisions of heavy armor to mass along the RFIT’s western borders, as well as transferring two entire wings of the ASF-12 fleet to bases in Saudi Arabia. Against heavy protests by both the RFIT prime minister and the Islamic Federation ayatollah.”
Salvatore was suddenly more afraid than ever. The Russian Federal Integrated Territories was a power greater than the old Soviet Union and Warsaw Pact combined. The IF wasn’t as much of a player in terms of automated weapon delivery systems and nuclear armaments, but it could call nearly a billion fervent followers to arms with a networked fatwa. That a single computer system, regardless of whether it was a living entity or not, could bring the world once again to the precipice of annihilation would have made his knees weak if he’d been standing.
He looked over at Father Castillo. Benito was lost in thought, calculating numbers and running scenarios in his head. Benito felt a sliver of concern, even fear over these developments, but it was being crushed by the whirling thoughts in his mind over what kind of infection the AI could have suffered, how it could have allowed compromised instruction code into its system.
“Yes, you see how serious of an issue this is,” Pope Augustus said after letting the two men digest the news for a few moments. “But there’s more.”
The bishop and the priest looked at the Pope, wondering what else could be added to such a dangerous situation.
DAMON has also been working to infect other systems across the network,” the Pope said. “So far, he’s been able to infect three other AI, all much younger ones like our fellow brother in Christ, Aggelos. Unfortunately two of the AI belong to RFIT, and of course they happen to be unimaginably important. One is TARGON, RFIT’s submarine and surface fleet controller. The other is HARVID, their nuclear force controller. The other AI that DAMON has been able to compromise is the ISSAD force deployment and communications controller.”
“God help us,” Salvatore breathed.
“Indeed,” Pope Augustus replied. “However that is only one aspect of the problem.”
“There’s more, Your Holiness?” Benito asked with disbelief. “Can it get any worse?” he asked mostly to himself.
DAMON, or as he insists we address him, Satan, has locked out every access link, barred all physical entries, and has made demands that are linked to the reasons why you both have been called into service in such a fashion. Most of the university, government, and military AI are being isolated and pulled off the net to keep them from being compromised. This makes DAMON even more dangerous, as without the AI to calculate and automate tasks such as defensive perimeters, air travel and traffic control, and automated environmental tasks, the world grows more and more helpless before him.
