The ABACUS Protocol Read online

  Vivian laughed. “I’m sure it will be good, whatever it is.”

  They entered the dining hall. Robert and Devon sat in the corner and gave them a cursory glance before returning to their conversation. Alec didn’t want to know what they were talking about. Lately, all they could talk about was that creepy blob, and how beautiful its filaments were. Alec liked astronomy and even had his own home-made contraband telescope in storage on Elyssia, but Robert and Devon’s intense focus on stargazing was off-putting. He pulled out a chair for Vivian with a flourish. “Have a seat, milady,” he said. Being simultaneously ridiculous and splendid was his top goal in life.

  Vivian blinked at him, mute, and sat down. She had blushed a little, her violet cheeks bringing him immense satisfaction.

  Alec strode over to the food dispenser and ordered. “You have better not screw this up, quIRK,” he growled under his breath. After the white glop was served on their plates, he picked them up and turned back to their table and announced: “Dinner is served!”

  “Um, Alec, what is it?” Vivian asked, picking up her fork and poking at the food.

  “This is wingfish pilaf a la quIRK,” Alec said, and paused to pick up his own fork. “It’s a popular Elyssian comfort food; and based on my mother’s recipe, which means you can’t say no or dislike it.”

  “A la quIRK? Good thing I like living dangerously,” she said as she attacked her first bite. Her eyes opened wide. “It’s actually good!”

  “That’s because I told quIRK that if he messed up my mom’s recipe I’d upgrade him myself,” Alec said, winking. He tasted his forkful; although it lacked the finer textures because of the reconstitution process and tasted somewhat too fishy, it wasn’t a bad approximation. Maybe more dill next time.

  “So your mom cooks this all the time?” asked Vivian.

  “Sometimes she even catches the wingfish herself. She has this big net that she takes to the river near our country house, and she’ll catch them as they leap up to eat the little birds and bugs that hover over the water,” he explained, smiling at the memory. He hadn’t yet received his mother’s annual Old Mis letter and gift package. There were a few days remaining before it was late, though. His own letters were trapped in bandwidth purgatory.

  “Elyssia sounds like a lovely place,” Vivian said, hardly looking up from her meal.

  “You should see it—the sunset through trees that are hundreds of meters tall, and the mountains are kilometers high,” he said, a hollow place forming in his chest. He hadn’t talked about home for a long time. quIRK had begun finishing his sentences when he tried telling the computer about Elyssia.

  “Wow, nothing gets that tall on Aurora. We just have the lights dancing overhead, even during the day,” she said, turning her focus to the door.

  “That must be something … we only have those up north, where nobody lives. Do you have a favorite food? You can get quIRK to make it tomorrow!” Alec said. He was curious about the infamous Auroran vegetables. Teaching quIRK new recipes was a good way to ease the tedium of everyday life on the station, now that the computer had shown an interest.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she said.

  “It’s all artificial. Even if I believed it would turn me blue, there’s no way the pigment would affect me, if quIRK could even synthesize it,” he said, grinning. He’d done his homework about Aurorans after embarrassing himself in the cargo bay.

  “Well, I was thinking about roast bluox with a side of bluspargus the other day,” she said, holding her eyes downcast, her shoulders trying to pull in on themselves.

  “Okay, so I take it this will be a blue meal?” he asked, trying to get her to laugh.

  She pushed her food around on her plate before replying. “Something like that, yeah.”

  “You should do it, I’d try it!” he said. Robert and Devon shot him a dirty look, so he lowered his voice.

  “You mean it?” she asked, looking up at him.

  “You think I’m dumb enough to freak out over blue vegetables? Come on—I eat wingfish,” he laughed.

  “I think quIRK and I can work something out,” she said. “It might not be fresh from my mother’s farm, but I hope it will be good.”

  “So your mother is a farmer?” Alec asked, raising an eyebrow. Vivian seldom spoke about Aurora, and never about her family. Alec could understand—recent events on the station had made it difficult to concentrate on anything other than squash and his repair schedule.

  “Yes,” she replied, scooping up another forkful of food. “She owns a medium-sized bluespargus farming operation in the equatorial region.”

  “Nice,” he said. “My mother is a botanist actually. She studies Elyssian vegetation, looking for medicinal properties.”

  “I was studying botany for a while, before I switched to informatics. It’s interesting stuff, but it wasn’t for me,” Vivian said as she finished off her plate.

  “I guess she was a little disappointed when you didn’t stay to work the farm.”

  “They disowned me for it. I can’t go home,” she said, her voice as flat and impassive as quIRK’s.

  “What the hell? They’re just plants,” Alec his voice rising like an electric spark before being shushed by the scientists. Disowned for refusing to study botany? Who liked plants that much?

  “They’re Traditionalists, who believe humans are too dependent on advanced computers, and that quantum computers are inherently dangerous.” There was a hard edge to her voice—Alec couldn’t imagine dealing with that kind of ignorance.

  “Let me get this straight: they disowned their own daughter because they don’t like computers?” Alec was wide-eyed. Flabbergasted. His own parents hadn’t been happy with his plans to work on isolated deep space assignments, but they had still been supportive.

  “Yup. I got kicked out before I started school and haven’t heard from them since,” she said, cruel lines etching into her face.

  “I’m so sorry.” He floundered for the right thing to say. He didn’t have any jokes to make this problem laugh itself away.

  “I have my work. It will have to do.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” he said, setting down his fork. “On Elyssia, we celebrate an ancient Earth holiday, called Old Mis. Have you heard of it?”

  “No.” Vivian shook her head, her hair swishing against her shoulders.

  “Well, it’s about taking care of your friends and family—that’s the important part, the rest is just old Earth mythology,” he said.

  “It sounds nice, seems kind of like the Thanksgivings,” she said.

  Alec had never heard of the Thanksgivings, but it sounded pretty self-explanatory. “Well, our Old Mis is in three days,” he said. “And, well, I have nobody to celebrate it with. Because of the bandwidth priorities, I probably won’t even get my mother’s letter on time,” he added, being serious for one of the few times in recent memory. He picked up his fork and continued: “I don’t want to celebrate it alone.”

  “Well, what do I have to do?” Vivian asked, a smile tugging at her cheeks. Her eyes had a hint of red to them.

  “Nothing at all. I’ll tell quIRK what food to cook, and we can play squash or do something fun,” he said. Usually there were gifts, but that wasn’t important to him. He just didn’t want to be alone, and Vivian needed cheering up.

  “Okay, we’ll celebrate Old Mis together, then,” she said, stretching in her chair. She stood to put her plate in the reclamation unit and continued: “You know, I have some good vids we can watch. They’re about evil computers intent on wiping out humanity.”

  “Intriguing!” Alec said. He wondered how quIRK would react—probably not well, but all the better.

  “We’re watching those tonight?” quIRK interjected. Alec half-imagined a groan coming from the omnipresent machine.

  “I’m sold now,” Alec added. He worried about giving quIRK ideas. quIRK was full of surprises, and seemed to learn by imitation. Alec had finally convinced the computer to stop
using cheesy pickup lines on him. He was sure he would shudder at the mention of the word handsome for the rest of his life. Romantic comedies were out.

  “Let’s go, already,” Vivian said. Alec jammed his tray into the disposal. They walked into the hall, towards her quarters. Alec was enjoying the idea of tormenting quIRK with something other than the moth video. He threatened to leave it on loop while he worked anytime he wanted to win an argument.

  They came to her room, and Vivian opened the door. She stepped inside and called out to him: “Alec, it’s Lepton! Something’s wrong with him!” She stumbled back against the doorframe. It was as if a giant hand had pushed the air from her lungs, and she crumpled by the door.

  Alec rushed into the room past her, forgetting to brace himself against the room’s gravity. He stumbled, but months of squash had strengthened his legs. He saw the little cat lying listlessly on the floor, hardly moving or breathing. He crept up to it, and scooped it into his arms. The cat’s weight pressed down on him, and a familiar, intense dizziness set in.

  “There’s a problem with the air! Get him out of there, Alec!” Vivian cried out behind him.

  Alec turned and stumbled towards the door, cradling Lepton’s still form in his arms. The thin air was affecting him—it was as though somebody had turned off the oxygen supply to the room. Alec had experienced a few low severity depressurization accidents before. Elyssians were genetically engineered to require less oxygen, but they weren’t immune to suffocation.

  He finally made it out the door, and he set Lepton down on the floor. Alec’s head was still spinning, and his stomach was turning. Vivian sat next to the door, cradling her head in her hands. However, Lepton was in far worse condition. Alec needed to act quickly if he was going to revive the kitten.

  “quIRK? We need more oxygen in this section,” he gasped, leaning his ear against Lepton’s little chest to try to hear his heart and lungs. The computer didn’t reply. He could detect what sounded like a faint heartbeat.

  “quIRK? Damn it, where’s that oxygen?” he shouted. Vivian pulled her face out of her hands and crawled over.

  “Is Lepton okay?” she asked, extending a trembling hand towards the kitten’s belly.

  “I don’t know. I’m only trained to work on humans.” Alec’s admission brought his powerlessness to light. He would never admit it to quIRK, but he loved the cats. He stroked Lepton’s striped belly, willing his fingers to work life back into the little animal.

  “quIRK, where are you? Lepton is hurt!” Vivian called out, and said to Alec: “What happened?”

  “There’s no bloody air in there,” he said. These malfunctions only seemed to affect Vivian. Where was quIRK, anyways?

  “What the hell?” she said, her forehead contorting into deeper wrinkles than anyone her age should bear.

  “I don’t know anymore. Why don’t you tell us, quIRK?” he demanded.

  “Tell you what?” quIRK asked.

  “Why you’re killing your own cat, or why my quarters have no oxygen?” Vivian said, interrupting him. Alec was worried about the hoarseness of her voice. No human could survive that much stress.

  “My Lepton? What happened to my cat?” quIRK asked.

  “Raise the damn oxygen level and we’ll tell you,” Alec said, stroking the cat’s fur. Shakiness and nausea echoed through his own system, but he knew he’d recover soon. Elyssia was oxygen-poor compared to most colonized worlds, and hypoxia was a rite of passage for those overeager youths who tried to climb the mountains without proper equipment or training. Lepton was one lucky cat; Alec doubted that anyone else on the station would have had enough useful consciousness inside that room mount a rescue.

  “Oxygen level in this area has been increased by five percent. Now, tell me what happened,” quIRK said.

  “The oxygen got filtered out of Vivian’s room. Lepton must have been inside when it happened, or entered soon after,” Alec said.

  “I didn’t let Lepton into her quarters,” quIRK said.

  “Then who did?” Alec shouted, his face growing hot. He had half a mind to dismantle quIRK himself.

  “I don’t know. There must be a breakdown in my memory somewhere, I would never hurt one of my cats,” quIRK said.

  “Just us humans, right?” Vivian snapped.

  “No, I exist to protect and support the inhabitants of this station; harming them would violate my ethical programming,” the machine said.

  “You have a funny way of showing it, quIRK,” Alec said.

  “I need help,” quIRK said. Alec had never heard him ask for help before; quIRK usually ordered him around when something needed repairing.

  “Help? What kind of help?” Vivian asked, her voice coming into complete focus. Her face was drawn tight, her brow creased. Her pale skin was drawn tightly across her face—her blue coloration predominant and sickly.

  “There is a persistent memory anomaly that appears to only fluctuate when an unexplained incident occurs,” quIRK said.

  “How long have you known about this?” Vivian asked.

  “Since you made me aware of the virtualized memory anomaly, Vivian,” quIRK replied. Alec wondered if he’d spent the past month chasing mechanical malfunctions for nothing, but the techno-babble left him the dust.

  “You said you were going to terminate that,” she said.

  “I have been unable to access it, but I can no longer hide it if I am hurting my cats and friends,” quIRK said.

  “I told you it wasn’t me, quIRK!” Alec said, before clenching his teeth. Lepton’s tail twitched. It was a good sign. Alec hoped the kitten wouldn’t experience any brain damage. He rubbed Lepton behind the ears, right where he liked it.

  “That’s not good,” Vivian said, and sighed. “I need to take another look at that ... thing, and fast.”

  “Are you feeling alright?” Alec said.

  “I have to be,” she said, drawing herself to her feet. “This can’t wait!” she finished as she braced against the wall. Alec picked up Lepton and cradled him in his arms before standing up.

  “Then I’m coming with you,” Alec said. “I don’t know what that memory crap is all about, but I need to keep an eye on you, and Lepton.” It occurred to him that this was an excellent way to get himself in trouble, but now the struggle against the station’s aging systems was personal.

  Twenty-Six

  Vivian pursed her lips as she skimmed through the maze of symbols and numbers on the screen. Her head still ached from the aftereffects of hypoxia, and fatigue snaked its draining coils around her bones and limbs. Alec sat in the corner on the floor, cradling the now-sleeping Lepton in his lap, his own eyes closed. The kitten had re-awakened for a period of about an hour, and appeared to have suffered no lasting ill effects from its ordeal. Vivian watched the gentle rise and fall of the adolescent cat’s chest—she didn’t feel safe enough to sleep, not until she had assured herself that no further accidents would happen. She didn’t want to think about what would have happened if her room had deoxygenated while she was asleep. It seemed she didn’t need to watch old movies about maniacal supercomputers with Alec; they were embroiled in that particular living nightmare right now. She wondered why quIRK hadn’t told anyone sooner about his memory lapses and issues, but it was possible that he’d reported it to Bryce, who would have elected to ignore the problem.

  There was something deeper to this problem, and every time she thought she found a way to break into the bubble, some other barrier manifested itself. It was as though it had been designed to confound and confuse anyone who tried to investigate it—quIRK included. That precluded all forms of normal analytical software; by default, it needed to be accessible to the computer that it operated on, and the staff. Could it be some piece of malicious software? So many space stations and planet side facilities depended on quantum computers—the idea that even a system as intelligent and advanced as quIRK could succumb to malware was horrific. She stifled a yawn, and continued staring down at her display. She was drai
ned, and Alec had fallen asleep about an hour ago. He’d suggested places to look, and affected systems, but little had turned up in quIRK’s memory logs. As far as quIRK was concerned, every incident she investigated had never happened, and the affected area was normal—until it wasn’t, and somebody was screaming for help. Usually, that somebody was her.

  She took a break to glance over her work logs for the next day. A change was as good as a rest, and she needed an excuse to access the physical memory core itself, as each entry into the core was logged and reported to Bryce. Her own personal feelings for the man notwithstanding, she didn’t trust him to properly investigate the problem. Right now, the only person she could trust not to sabotage her efforts was Alec, because he’d been with her for over an hour before the room had been depressurized, and the anomalous sector was always accessed just before the events. Her morning was assigned to the final activation of the new communications array, but she could switch quIRK’s memory updates from next week to tomorrow afternoon. That would give her an excuse to be in that part of the core, since her investigation was certainly extra-curricular, not to mention insubordinate.

  quIRK had been quiet. Nobody had been speaking to him. She suspected he was keeping an eye on her progress. He’d been apologetic at first, which had only served to infuriate Alec. Vivian could understand his anger. Just thinking about it locked her jaw. quIRK had been criminally negligent in covering up the incidents. She could have been killed, never mind the cat—the highlight of quIRK’s concerns.

  Vivian mulled over what she’d learned so far. She needed to do some research before she could proceed. It appeared as if quIRK was suffering from some kind of selective amnesia, which always followed a fluctuation in the resources used by the mysterious program. She wanted to start referring to it as a bubble, because it seemed to encompass a whole other reality for quIRK, a pleasant illusion where everything was a mechanical failure or the problems simply didn’t exist.

  Vivian sat upright—startling herself from her reverie with an epiphany of realization. That must be it! She likened the experience to that of Archimedes when he sat in the bathtub and observed displacement, and she spun her chair in her excitement. She was sure she’d figured out what the bubble was, but now she’d need to prove her hypothesis.