The ABACUS Protocol Page 12

  Her evidence was quIRK’s lack of awareness of the incidents as they were occurring. Rather than it being a lapse in his own processes, what if it was like pulling the wool over his eyes, blinding him with an illusion while other commands were executed? Nothing on this station could occur without quIRK’s knowledge, unless he thought he was seeing something else—something completely normal.

  She continued to spin her chair, enthralled with the scientific methodology she would use to prove her theories. If she was right, she’d be able to tap into the bubble itself. She could conceivably force quIRK to sing nursery rhymes to Bryce. The thought made her laugh, but she became overcome from dizziness and fell out of her chair onto the floor.

  Despite the whirling room, she continued to snicker at the mental image. She opened her eyes when she stopped to catch her breath, and saw Alec stooping over her, his lips pursed.

  “I should have studied quantum informatics; you have all the fun,” he said as he rubbed his eyes.

  “I was just thinking about creating a mechanical malfunction of my own,” she said, as she stifled another fit of laughter.

  “Care to let me in on the joke?” Alec asked.

  “I wanted to make quIRK sing nursery rhymes to Bryce,” she said, breaking into full-throated laughter again. Alec began to smile and snicker as well.

  “Maybe he can sing ‘Mary had a Little Lamb’,” Alec suggested, a wicked grin forming under his bleary eyes.

  “That is not part of my program,” quIRK said.

  “Maybe it should be!” Vivian said, thinking of all the other pranks she could play on quIRK. Her heart sank when she realized that those same pranks were a less malicious form of what had been happening to her all along.

  “Why are we talking about quIRK’s newest career path? Is he retiring?” Alec asked as he stretched.

  “Not unless you’re handy with astronomical calculations,” she said, joking. She didn’t want to reveal what she knew without proof. She didn’t want to endanger herself—or Alec—any further. At this point, she didn’t know if quIRK could be trusted.

  “Really? Damn, I should have paid more attention in calculus,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  “If you think calculus would be enough to replace me, then perhaps I should stay online indefinitely,” quIRK said.

  Vivian giggled, pleased that she’d derailed Alec’s curiosity.

  “Come on you two,” she said. “Let’s get some sleep. I have a lot more work to do tomorrow.” She rolled into a sitting position.

  “I was just getting comfortable,” Alec said, drawing himself up scratching his jaw.

  Vivian stood up and watched Lepton scamper out of the room ahead of them. Her heard raced, and her stomach wanted to empty itself. Somebody on this station was trying to kill her. Next time, she may not be so fortunate. She would have walked into her booby trapped quarters if Alec hadn’t been there, and died on her floor, next to Lepton, far away from home.

  She made quIRK confirm the oxygen content in her quarters three times before she considered it safe to enter. She stood in the doorway, and breathed the air, looking for any sign of hypoxia. Last time, the effects had hit her hard—Aurora was a higher oxygen world, safe for humans, but elevated enough that having fires outdoors without a permit was considered a major offense by planetary authorities.

  Eventually, she was satisfied that her room was safe, and she shuffled to her bed. There was much to do tomorrow—if she survived the night.

  Twenty-Seven

  The final calibrations were going well on the communications array, and Vivian was preparing to gradually transfer all of the station’s broadcasts to the new unit. She would keep the old unit active for two weeks to ensure that all traffic was being sent and received, and after that she would deactivate it for use as a backup. Her mind was preoccupied with her next task—a covert investigation into quIRK’s memory bubble, while passing off her investigations as part of the extensive systems upgrades. Her work schedule had been approved without question by Bryce, which concerned her. A sudden change in itinerary would certainly get her attention, if their roles were reversed.

  She stretched, and began keying in the final sequence of commands. It had been a long night, and Vivian had been tormented by a series of nightmares about suffocating in her bed while quIRK taunted her. She had awoken in a cold sweat, only to find herself alone, still breathing and staring into the starry vista of the Milky Way. She’d never found the closeness of the spatial void so terrifying and hoped that the formerly brilliant view would soon revert to its benevolent majesty. A small crack in her window, and she’d be sucked out into the vacuum. Vivian shook her head, forcing the fears from her mind. She wasn’t going to get blown into space—she was going to live, and get to the bottom of this insane mystery. That was all there was to it, as far as her rational half was concerned. Her irrational side, however, was not to be sated, and continued its frenetic tirade of fatalistic imagery.

  She maintained a single-minded focus on the task at hand—activating the new communications array. Its status lit up on her screens, and she grinned at the jump in available bandwidth. Her throat relaxed and her tight muscles unwound from her bones. She was pleased with the speed—the station could now handle almost two hundred percent more simultaneous signals. Bryce had better restore Gal-Net access to its normal priority; not even the Newfound Blob could command that many resources.

  She stood up and began assembling the tools needed for her investigation into quIRK’s most basic memory functions. The neatness of her lab had declined once again as her workload increased, the number of tools she frequently used lead to almost every diagnostic unit, probe and even the common wrench finding their new home on the table. Vivian sighed as she dug through the mess, wondering if the condition of her office was a metaphor for her out-of-control life. It certainly was indicative of her harried, work-centric lifestyle.

  “Vivian, are you sure you don’t need the portable oscilloscope?” quIRK asked just after she’d finished packing her tool bag.

  “What would I use that for? All the measurements I need are too fine for the portable unit.” She tried not to sigh; quIRK was very good at hindering her otherwise well-laid plans.

  “Perhaps you should include it, it may be useful,” quIRK said.

  Vivian finally sighed; she’d hoped quIRK wouldn’t be difficult about this. “I don’t see how, but fine, I’ll take it with me,” she replied, seeking a solution that would involve the least backseat engineering.

  “Do you have appropriate eye protection?” quIRK asked.

  “Yes! This isn’t my first time working with laser diagnostic tools, quIRK!”

  “Maybe a redundant uncertainty filter would be useful,” the computer continued.

  Her mouth hung open for a moment before she replied. “Look, I know you’re bothered about that memory fault, but a lot of extra equipment is just going to slow me down.” She was firm—sometimes dealing with quIRK was like babysitting.

  “I am only acting in the best interests of your project, Vivian.”

  “I appreciate that, but I don’t want to be late! Punctuality is part of my final work report,” she said, hoping that he would understand the need for efficiency.

  “I understand. I am sorry; I am as interested in your results as you are.”

  Vivian began searching for the portable oscilloscope, and hoped that quIRK had finished with his suggestions. Usually, his ideas were helpful, but this time they were pointless, like a child avoiding his homework. She picked up the hand-held unit, and secured it in her bag. She wanted a light excursion—the tool bag was difficult to maneuver. She walked over to the hatch, when Alec burst in the door, wild-eyed, his curly hair frazzled above the red flush of his skin.

  “Vivian! You’re okay!” he said, his face softening—he was panting as though he had just played a round of squash.

  “What?” she said, taking a step back from the hatch—of course she was fine!

 
“quIRK told me there was an accident and you were seriously hurt!” His voice was loud and shrill.

  “But I’m fine ... quIRK is being silly about this memory check,” she said, and then smiled and continued: “I’m like his dentist.”

  “Okay, you’re sure?” he asked. The door opened, and Muon squeaked as he marched into the room.

  Vivian sighed and waved him off. “Yes! Now relax, you need to be in top shape for tonight’s squash game, and I need to get to work—I’m already late!” She was going to have a talk with quIRK about summoning Alec for every little thing. “Alright, sorry, I’m going,” he said, turning to leave and he picked up the kitten in a graceful swoop of his too-long arm. “You’re coming too, big guy. Vivian has important computer work to—”

  Alec was cut off by an ear-shattering boom. The room’s orientation shifted, throwing him backwards through the still-open door. Vivian collided with the wall next to the door, pain lancing through her side as she was thrust into the tool bag. She struggled to push herself off the bag, but her arms couldn’t fight the force holding her to the wall. After a few futile shoves, the gravity normalized, and she was free.

  “quIRK!” Her ears rang from the intensity of her own screams.

  There was no reply.

  She groaned and pushed herself off the wall, and drew off the tool bag. Her side was red and sensitive to the touch, but the skin hadn’t been broken. Her hip ached, but it could support her weight. The sound of a crying kitten filled the air—shrill and desperate. She made her way out the still-open door, to find Alec lying motionless on the ground, with Muon pinned under him.

  Her breath was ripped from her lips: Alec was her only friend on the station, and she couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to him. She rushed to his side, enduring the sting of the kitten’s desperate clawing to pry him off the small cat. Muon then sped off down the hall. Vivian turned her attention to Alec: a grotesque bump was forming on his forehead and no amount of shaking or slapping would revive him. He must have taken the full force of the fall with his head. Her trembling hands groped his neck for a pulse. Unable to find one, she held her breath, forced her hands to be still as she finally located her prize—he was still alive!

  All was quiet, but with an unconscious friend on one hand and an absent supercomputer on the other, she was ill-equipped to investigate. She didn’t know anything about how to deal with a medical emergency—that was Alec’s area of expertise. Vivian had always put off reviewing the instructional material in the common files because it never seemed important; she was an informatics engineer, not a nurse. If she survived the next few hours, she decided to re-evaluate her priorities. Something had exploded with enough force to tilt the station, and she needed to find out what it was.

  “quIRK, you there?” she asked through clenched, clattering teeth. She grabbed one of Alec’s motionless hands and squeezed it between her own shaking hands. Hot tears welled up, but she didn’t brush them away. The floor’s gravity shifted under her again, sliding her into Alec’s still body. “quIRK!” she screamed, her cries echoing down the elliptical hallway. Her gasps were the only sounds she could perceive. She needed answers, but she didn’t want to leave Alec.

  Vivian took a deep breath, and forced her mind to be calm. She maintained a focused rhythm of deep breaths, and tried to piece together a course of action that was logical and effective. quIRK wasn’t answering her pleas for help, but her lab’s computer terminal might be more accommodating. She wasn’t sure what to do for Alec, but decided on summoning help or accessing the common medical files. She wasn’t any good to him while holding his hand and crying like a baby.

  Vivian set Alec’s hand down on the floor and rose to her feet—the fire in her hip resisted the motion until she finally towered over Alec’s silent form. She scrubbed the tears from her face with her sleeve, and hobbled back into her lab. A lance of anger replaced her fear—an emotion she was intent on exploiting. Her first instinct was to check the reactor. While it was theoretically impossible for it to overload, today she would take no chances. The terminal responded to her commands, and radiation levels were normal—the reactor appeared to be functioning within normal parameters. She supposed the fact that the power was on should have made that conclusion self-evident.

  With the worst-case scenario whisked from her awareness, Vivian parsed through the other important systems—life support, communications, and telescope control—all appeared to be working. Even quIRK appeared to be functioning. This would indicate that whatever happened may have been blocked from his awareness. This would be the perfect opportunity to check the memory core, and observe the anomaly directly.

  Vivian checked her injured side, wincing at the deep blue bruises that formed along her flank. She limped to her discarded tool bag and picked it up, securing it over the opposing hip, and then turned to the hatch. She swallowed, hard. Alec would understand why she needed to leave him to do this—and knew he would do the same.

  She tried to open the portal, but the mechanism was caught fast. She stooped to examine the switch, and she saw a flashing message obscured by the handle.

  0 – 0 – 0 – DECOMPRESSION

  All Vivian could do was blink and read the message over and over again. Whoever had done this had meant to kill her. Dizziness hit her—her heartbeat echoed through her ears in that one moment where the brutal totality of her situation came to light. She needed to get her bearings, but for now she was secure. If quIRK was still gone, then whatever had caused the explosion wouldn’t know she was still alive; she had to plan a logical recourse and survive.

  She rushed back to the computer terminal as fast as her injured hip would take her. She needed to get in contact with the scientists, Robert and Devon, as well as sending a distress signal to the New Damascus authorities. She was in over her head, and she intended to survive this nightmare.

  She sat down and worked out a way to send a direct voice message over quIRK’s intercom system. She first opted to contact telescope control, to check on the scientists.

  “Is anyone there? It’s Vivian. Just talk, I can hear you,” she spoke, trying to keep her voice confident.

  “Vivian!” an old sounding voice screeched.

  “Yes. Are you alright?” she asked.

  “No, Devon is dead, the explosion, it fried his—” Robert began, breaking off into a choked sob.

  Devon had been a sweet man, even if they didn’t share much in common. Vivian’s eyes flooded with tears. “Damn, I’m so sorry. Have you seen anyone else?” she asked, looking back at Alec. He hadn’t moved.

  “No, quIRK won’t open the damn door. I’m trapped in here with him,” he replied. His speech was choppy and the microphone picked up his gasps and sighs.

  “Alec was knocked unconscious. I will get down there as soon as I send a message to New Damascus,” she told him, trying her best to not let the newest shock to her system seep into her voice.

  “Just hurry,” Robert wailed, and the feed turned off.

  She entered a message to New Damascus: “Computer failure, explosive decompression accident. Dr. Devon Valdez dead, Alec Stone sustained head injury of unknown severity. Require repair crew, medic and computer systems audit.” It was short, but she didn’t have time to write anything longer. She sent the message, knowing it would take three days to be received, and four weeks after that for help to arrive. They were alone—not even quIRK was there to help her, now.

  She stood up, and said “quIRK, you can come back anytime you’re ready,” before leaving the room. If the doors weren’t working, she’d need to find a tool she could use to open the telescope room’s doors. A part of her didn’t want to go, because as eccentric and off-putting as Devon could be, he didn’t deserve to die. She didn’t know if she could handle seeing his body, or deal with Robert’s raw grief. She stopped to check on Alec, and leaned against the wall for support as she hobbled towards the beta-telescope control lab.

  Twenty-Eight

  V
ivian used her weight and Auroran strength to pry the door to beta-telescope control open. She’d improvised a crowbar of sorts from Alec’s tools that she’d found strewn across the floor outside the dining hall. The metal twisted against her flesh, bruising the palms of her hands. The door creaked open, just enough to look inside. “Robert! Help me,” she called in. She continued her struggle, managing to wedge her foot between the doors. Her bruised abdomen and hip ached and fought against the exertion, but she needed to free Robert—she couldn’t operate the backups and formulate a plan alone, and Robert was more experienced by benefit of both age and station.

  A set of thick fingers emerged from the other side, and the door began to slide. “I’ve got it, keep pulling!” Robert’s voice came through the door, like coarse gravel.

  With a final heave, the door opened, and Vivian peeked inside Robert. Devon lay still on his back, carefully placed in the far corner of the room, a single cable trailing from his head to the floor. The stench of human excrement wafted through the air. Robert’s creased face stared back at her. Vivian’s lips moved, but no sound came out.

  “Vivian, we should see to Alec, and take care of Devon later,” Robert said, the furrows of his face tight and his eyes red. Vivian didn’t know how long the pair had been together, but they had been inseparable.

  “I left him outside the informatics lab,” she said, steeling herself for the painful walk back.

  “What about Bryce?” he asked as they began to walk.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. The mention of the name made her fingers tighten around the crowbar.

  “Ah well, let that miserable bastard pry himself out,” Robert growled, but he choked up before continuing: “Let’s go already, I can’t be here,” he said as he took her arm and wrapped it around his shoulder.