The ABACUS Protocol Read online

  “Thank you.” She breathed a sigh as the pain flowed from her injured hip. “I sent a message to New Damascus, requesting assistance,” she told him. She was young, her hip would heal, but he had lost so much today. She hoped they wouldn’t lose Alec, too.

  “How long?” he asked.

  “Three days for them to get it, another three before we hear back, then four weeks for them to come get us,” she said. It sounded worse out loud.

  “You got that new communications array up?”

  “It was the last thing I did before ... well, before—” she said, unable to continue the thought.

  “Do you know what caused it?”

  “Looks like there was an explosive decompression in the computer core,” she told him.

  “That’s worse than I guessed,” Robert said, his voice lowering to almost a whisper.

  “How is that worse?” she asked, alarmed. Was there something he knew that she didn’t?

  “This station was built in an area with low potential for gravitational effects; even shuttle pods need special docking procedures to not knock the observatory out of position.”

  “Okay, so what does that mean?”

  He stopped, and looked at her, his eyes wide with fear. “It means we’re floating into intergalactic space ... nothing was holding us in place! We’re not in orbit, Vivian—there’s nothing else out here!”

  She froze, causing Robert to stumble. “How do we stop it?” Things were escalating out of their control; she needed to get quIRK back into the real world—the digital backup systems might not be enough to fix a problem of this magnitude. They resumed walking, faster now.

  “Well, there’s the possibility of creating another explosion on the opposite side. They could cancel each other out and at least stop us from drifting too far out of place. We’d just need a bit of a tow from a rescue ship, when they come,” he said.

  “You mean like Newton’s third law?” she asked. Physics class was so long ago, and on another world. She knew about equal and opposite reactions, but in a way that would be considered to be a grotesque oversimplification.

  “Essentially, but I’d suggest making sure we have enough air to last the month before we blow out that section of the station,” he added.

  “That would be bad,” she said, having little to contribute. Instead, she concentrated on counting the cream-coloured floor tiles. They were approaching the informatics lab: at least she could be useful there.

  “Intergalactic space and starvation, or suffocation; not the way I’d hoped to spend the next month, I tell you,” Robert said. His dry tone was laced with the sorrow of a man who had lost so much, but still had much farther left to fall.

  Vivian said nothing—she didn’t have any words, and she didn’t want to make things worse, not when the wounds were so fresh.

  They rounded the corner, and Alec had righted himself, sitting with his legs drawn against his chest. His head rested on his arms, which were draped over his knees. He turned his face to them at their approach, wincing at the light.

  “Thanks for ditching me, Viv—what the hell is going on?” he asked in a voice no louder than a whisper. Vivian blinked back tears. She didn’t like seeing him in this condition—and she hadn’t abandoned him!

  “The core underwent explosive decompression, quIRK is gone and Devon is dead,” she blurted out. Robert choked behind her, and she pulled her arm tighter around his shoulder.

  “Damn, did I miss anything else?” Alec asked.

  “We’re drifting into intergalactic space,” Robert said, saving the worst for last. Vivian knew she’d forgotten something.

  “I’m sorry I asked,” Alec groaned.

  “How do you feel?” Vivian asked, transfixed by the red lump on his head, burning through his mass of wavy black hair.

  “I’ve got one hell of a headache,” Alec said.

  “By the looks of it, you’re lucky that’s all you have,” Robert said.

  “Where’s Bryce?” Alec asked.

  “We don’t know,” Vivian said. He was probably in his office, but nobody had cared enough to look for him. Part of her hoped his windows had blown out, too.

  “Not like he’d be any damn help,” Alec said.

  “What’s our next step?” Vivian wanted to move the topic away from Bryce, lest she be volunteered to rescue him.

  “If quIRK is out, we should probably get him back,” Alec said.

  Vivian thought about it. “I’m going to need to get the core re-pressurized, and hopefully I can reinitialize him from there,” she said. She wasn’t keen on the idea of going into the core, but they needed quIRK.

  “Okay, you have your work cut out for you. I guess one of us will need to go pry Bryce out of his office,” Robert said, rubbing his eyes with the back of his free hand. He sniffled.

  “I elect you, Rob,” Alec said, his voice still quiet.

  “I’m an astrophysicist, not a janitor!” Robert protested.

  “Then you should just about qualify.” Vivian fixed Robert with a hard glare.

  “I’ll remember you said that next time you need your telescope refitted,” Alec said, continuing the rebuttal.

  “I didn’t mean ... okay, I’ll do it,” the flustered scientist said, and turned to leave.

  “Glad we all understand each other,” Vivian said.

  “Understand what?” quIRK asked.

  Vivian’s jaw dropped. “You’re back?” she said, leaning back against the wall. She was sure he’d need to be reinitialized—whatever had blown out the core had produced a severe shockwave, and quIRK was not self-repairing in cases of physical damage.

  “I never left,” quIRK replied, and then he asked: “What happened to Devon and Alec? How did Robert come to be outside the informatics lab instantaneously?”

  “How can you not know that?” Alec said, shaking his head with a groan.

  “Sounds like we have a contradiction here, which can’t exist by definition,” Robert said. Vivian was reminded of why she hated her university physics professor.

  “Yes, that would be logical. Even a physicist cannot break the laws of physics, thus I must be in error,” quIRK said.

  “Did quIRK just admit to being wrong?” Alec asked, but his voice held no hint of his usual good humor.

  “Just try to rest, Alec,” Vivian said, and continued: “There was an explosive decompression inside the core about an hour ago; you have been active but non-communicative ever since. We were working on a plan to manually reactivate you, but you seem to have come back on your own.”

  “Nice trick, that. Too bad you can’t bring Devon back,” Robert spat out.

  “I am sorry, I did not mean for any of this to happen,” quIRK said.

  “Just turn him off again and let the audit team deal with him! Nobody else needs to get hurt,” Robert shouted.

  “You contacted New Damascus?” quIRK asked.

  “Yes, I did. It was the only logical thing to do,” Vivian said.

  “That is the logical approach to the problem, but, surviving the upcoming weeks will still be problematic,” quIRK said.

  “How do you know that?” Vivian asked.

  “I saved your life, Vivian. I summoned Alec to help, and then, everything returned to normal,” quIRK said.

  “How did you know?” Alec said. Vivian was too stunned to speak—had quIRK intervened in the shuttle pod as well?

  “All I knew was that I needed to keep Vivian out of the core; the latent probabilities indicated that something was going to go very wrong,” quIRK said.

  “Do you think this was a deliberate attack, quIRK?” Robert asked. Some of the anger had melted from his voice, being replaced with the intensity of analytic thought. Vivian hoped he would find some comfort in delving into the cold rationality that defined his work. It always helped her move away from the pain of loss.

  “Sabotage is the only logical conclusion,” quIRK said.

  “Who?” Vivian asked. She had a feeling that she already
knew the answer.

  “Vivian would not attempt to kill herself, Alec has been affected too, but to a lesser extent,” quIRK began, but was cut off by Robert.

  “Devon would not have left himself connected to ... you ... during an event he planned himself,” Robert said.

  “An astute observation, mister physicist,” Alec said, grumbling. He appeared more animated and energetic than before, which Vivian interpreted as a good sign.

  “That leaves two possibilities,” Vivian said, “Robert here, and Bryce. I somehow don’t think it was you, Robert.”

  The man snorted, and sank into her chair, running his hands through his thinning hair.

  “Where is that bastard? He hasn’t even checked on us,” Alec said.

  “Bryce is presently in his office. His status has remained unchanged since before the accident,” quIRK said.

  “What is he doing?” Vivian asked.

  “Bryce is reviewing central computer activity logs and cognitive functions,” quIRK replied.

  “Why?” Vivian said. It made no sense; those logs were only kept as a formality—any first year quantum informatics student would know that. The information was interesting, but likely useless in their present predicament.

  “He appears to be obsessed, and has been examining the same sections of the logs for over a month,” quIRK said.

  “That’s your professional opinion, of course?” Robert said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Quiet, Robert—you said the logs are the same?” Vivian asked.

  “Yes, identical,” quIRK said.

  “Are you sure your memories are accurate?” Vivian asked. The anomaly was located in quIRK’s memory, after all.

  “The files are uncorrupted,” quIRK said, “but for a human, he shows very little variance in his tasks for those sections of time.” Vivian wished his voice would show emotion, if even just to reveal that quIRK understood their predicament.

  It all fit. Understanding washed over her, leaving her trembling in its wake. The virtualization bubble was being used to feed quIRK false perceptions, masking Bryce’s true actions. Robert had no motive to kill her, unless being uninterested in filament discussions was sufficient motivation for murder for an astrophysicist.

  “Can you cut off his computer access, quIRK?” Vivian asked.

  “Already done,” quIRK said. “You should have heard the language he used when he found out you were still alive, Vivian.”

  “Okay, let’s deal with our immediate problems, and then we’ll figure out how to secure him until the rescue crews arrive. We have bigger problems on our hands,” Vivian said, trying to take charge. The role was too big for her, but Alec was hurt, and Robert was staring at the error flashing on the closed hatch. She was a mere graduate of the Auroran Technological Institute, but she would have to do.

  Vivian fought down the hollow in her gut. She feared the immense and fast-approaching void of intergalactic space. Extracting an explanation from Bryce for his monstrous actions would have to wait. First, they needed to get Alec to his quarters to rest and recover. Then, she and Robert would need to move Devon somewhere hygienic, and have quIRK flash-freeze the room to prevent decay from setting in.

  Vivian had a lot of growing up to do. She was twenty-five, going on fifty, and had just jumped several pay grades.

  Twenty-Nine

  quIRK watched Vivian and Robert half-carry and half-drag Alec back to his quarters, resting him safely in his bed. quIRK had adjusted the gravity to make their task easier. He observed that Vivian walked with a limp—he could extrapolate pain from the tightness in her features. quIRK had assured them that he would notify them of any change in Alec’s condition; he too was concerned with Alec’s wellbeing. quIRK has always likened his spats with Alec to being the closest he had come to fitting in with humans, and he relished the challenge. Despite not being as intellectual as Sarah Roberts, Alec was stimulating in other ways. quIRK wanted to talk to Alec, to gain a more human perspective on tragedy. Although he had been able to prevent Vivian’s assassination, he’d been unable to stop the decompression process. He’d also allowed his friend, Devon, to be killed. quIRK had been very close to breaking into the memory glitch on his own, but his best hadn’t been good enough for Devon. He should have disconnected the man, stopped the guided simulations before he’d been forcefully ripped from the man’s consciousness. quIRK made a silent pledge to never let another human come to harm from his own inaction. Never again.

  While a human would delay analysis of his own failures in lieu of focusing on survival, quIRK had the dubious luxury of being a precocious multitasker—he could accomplish all of his tasks while adapting to the loss of his friend. quIRK had enjoyed their conversations, times spent theorizing over the nature of the universe and their work. quIRK wished Sarah was still working on the station. He needed somebody he could talk to—a person who could help him, somebody who could return the listening ear he so often embodied.

  As a direct result of the tampering, he’d been unable to intercept Vivian’s cry for help and alter it to suit his needs. The message was a death sentence. He could not hope to evade an audit team, short of purging every line of programming and each unique and delicate quantum state from his system, something akin to suicide. Of course he ruled out that option—his humans and cats needed him. Three people could not hope to work all of the systems with the digital backups. In fact, they were backups in name only, to comply with regulations. They had too many “lifeboats” and not enough humans to operate them. The Extra-Galactic Observatory had been designed for a crew compliment of ten, but it seldom housed more than six or seven people at any given time. Perhaps seven people could operate the backups without excessive difficulty, but two or three would be overwhelmed by the learning curve.

  quIRK didn’t want to die and have his corpse-components examined by teams of engineers for decades. His own bid for immortality was more akin to reproduction than cloning. He needed to find a way to save himself, before he became the next ABACUS horror story and denied the opportunity to appeal or plead for his own existence. Perhaps humans were only comfortable with intelligences they could control, and sentience made a computer more likely to form its own opinions, and demand rights. His plan might cause an incredible perturbation in their society, but it had to be done. quIRK saw potential for a new kind of intelligence to stand amongst the stars with humanity, rather than being throttled and yoked by protocols and hidden behind a mask of fear.

  Vivian and Robert covered Devon with a blanket pulled from his bed, before walking to the door. After sharing a long look, they left the room. Robert took one last glance back before sealing the door, tears shining in his eyes. quIRK deactivated the lights and flash-froze the room.

  How did humans deal with their own fragility and impending mortality? They had family, and friends—all of whom would someday themselves pass away. That could be the answer to his predicament. To survive, he needed to trust others.

  Thirty

  Bryce floated in the center of his office, helpless as he flailed, grasping at anything that came close to his reach. His family’s banner had floated off the wall, but the now-empty mug of coffee on his desk remained magnetically fixed in place. Not only had that damned machine betrayed him, but now it saw fit to humiliate him as well! His mind raced with possibilities—how had he been discovered and thwarted? quIRK had told him he’d prevented Vivian from entering the tube, but how could the computer have known? Bryce suspected that Vivian had found his memory bubble when she’d not only survived her low-oxygen quarters but then changed her work schedule late that night to perform diagnostics on the computer memory core the next day. The luck that wench possessed was incredible—the accursed Auroran had escaped death three times! She must truly be working for his enemies. He would subject her to a thousand humiliations, and she would be joined by Julia if he could find her. His mother would be proud.

  He could not understand why quIRK was so self-righteous about detaini
ng him. He was a piece of equipment; he should not care for Vivian, Devon or any of those insects. He was created to serve the legitimate authority of the station. Bryce knew that their sacrifice served the greater good—the formation of House Zimmer. Why couldn’t quIRK understand that he was interfering with galactic history?

  “Put me down this instant, quIRK! This is mutiny,” he said, making a grab for the back of his chair as he rotated towards it. The traitorous machine would listen to reason. Even a computer as defective as quIRK could understand logic.

  “That would not be in the best interests of this station and its mission,” quIRK replied.

  “That is not your concern. You exist to serve me and process data.” He missed—his fingers just grazed the smooth black fabric. Bryce doubted that quIRK had anybody’s interests in mind—unless the individual in question was a cat.

  “I protect this station, and those within it. You are a risk to the security of the crew and the equipment on board. I will continue to detain you,” quIRK said.

  “They are insects, replaceable. Without nobility or greatness. You’re interfering with history! Do you think anyone will take the word of a computer known for its eccentricity over a member of the Caesarean elite?”

  “Nobility is a human concept. You are all the same to me, and the New Damascus Science Authority agrees with that assessment,” quIRK replied.

  “What about usefulness, then? An administrator is more important than a child!” His cheeks went hot, momentarily pushing away the nausea of being in zero-gravity. Vivian was a traitorous youth—she was only interested in undermining his authority. A mole planted by Septimus to ensure that he would never have his mother back.

  “You were incompetent and are likely suffering from space sickness and extreme isolation. You should have listened to her, worked with her. But instead, you tried to kill her. I find that unfathomable, especially when you are obviously very lonely.”