The ABACUS Protocol Page 15

  Vivian stepped inside, holding a plate in her hand. It was piled high with blue food, and a side of steak-coloured mush. “I taught quIRK how to make the bluspargus and bluox dinner I told you about. He did a pretty good job of it,” she said as she approached. She carried a wooden box tucked under her free arm.

  “I can’t wait,” said Alec. He pulled himself up in his bed so he was seated. The cats scampered away, taking refuge on his desk. He winced, and the twin demons of grogginess and dizziness still warred for control of his awareness.

  “quIRK suggested it, she told him. “He thought I could use a bit of home and that Bryce could stand to broaden his palate.” She handed Alec the plate, and he wondered what the original dish might have looked like. He considered asking her if her favorite color was blue, but he didn’t want to trigger one of quIRK’s antiblue rants.

  “Smart computer,” said Alec. He wanted to see Bryce’s reaction to being served Auroran food. His insistence on Caesarean food was a sore point with Alec, as Bryce demanded that the food machines be hand washed and sterilized before he ate. Maybe the new way of life on the station wouldn’t be so bad, after all; Robert wasn’t a picky eater, and the machines were self-cleaning.

  “Robert’s taking it to him. Now, eat up.” She thrust the plate towards him. Alec was always interested in trying new things, even if they were blue. He took the plate, and opted to try the blue vegetables first. They weren’t unlike asparagus in flavor, but much sweeter. He suspected Auroran children did not need to be bribed to eat their vegetables.

  “Maybe quIRK can give us a live feed of that meal,” Alec said between mouthfuls. Vivian hovered over him, her brow drawn as she studied him.

  “You assume I enjoy the suffering of others, Alec,” quIRK said.

  “You’re a supercomputer, the sworn enemy of the human race. Shouldn’t you be designing killer robots or something?” He chuckled, almost choking on a mouthful of food.

  “That is bigoted and offensive. I would expect that from Bryce, not you,” quIRK said.

  “Come on now, you knew it was a joke,” Alec said, pausing to devour another bite. The meat held gamey muskiness. He continued: “Hey Viv, what’s in the box?”

  “I brought my flute. I thought you might like some company,” Vivian said, avoiding eye contact.

  “Yeah, that would be nice,” he said, focusing on his plate.

  “But first, are you mad at me?” she asked.

  “Do I need to be?” he replied, twisting his face into an impish smile. There was nothing his stupid grin couldn’t fix … well, other than quIRK.

  “No, I just mean, I left you out in the hall, alone, when I went to get Robert out of the lab,” she paused for a moment to take a deep breath.

  “It’s okay, Viv. I understand. You did what needed to be done, I know that,” he said. In truth, he wasn’t angry, just frightened. He hadn’t realized that he’d been working under a madman; he knew Bryce had been a despicable bigot, but assumed his delusions were harmless.

  “I just didn’t want you to think I ran away, and left you alone and hurt. I didn’t want to go—” she said, before dropping her gaze to the ground.

  “Let’s just put it behind us,” said Alec. “I’ll be fine tomorrow.” He was trying to convince himself as much as her. He found any attempt of macho theatrics on his part to be ineffective at best, but sometimes it was good to force himself to get better through strength of will alone.

  “Oh, good,” she said, her voice quiet. He didn’t know if he could have been so determined and together if their places had been reversed.

  “We’re still doing Old Mis after all,” he said. “I gotta teach quIRK how to make potatoes and some kind of roasted bird meat,” he explained, smiling with his eyes closed. Talking and focusing was making his head hurt. He sucked in a deep breath.

  “You eat birds?” she asked, a spike in tone punctuating the statement. He decided he would have to see Aurora for himself, someday, but only after much strenuous exercise and strength training.

  “Yeah, we catch them with the fish,” he said.

  “Then why not have fish?” she asked.

  “It’s Earth tradition, though most of their fish don’t fly, apparently,” he said, then took a final bite and set down his plate. A question came to mind: “Don’t you have birds on Aurora?”

  “Kind of, but they don’t fly or anything, they just run or glide,” she said with a shrug.

  “You should come to Elyssia with me. We could go to the Festival of Life and see the fish flying over the rivers in the mist,” he said.

  “If fish fly, then why don’t you call them birds?” she asked.

  “Well, they primarily live in the water, they just fly to catch birds and insects for food.” He realized that the notion must sound odd and shrugged.

  “Oh, that makes sense,” she said, taking a seat on the floor.

  “Good, so I can see the auroras on your planet, and you come fish-spotting on mine,” he said.

  “I’d like that,” she said, as she opened the box, withdrawing a long flute.

  “That is a lovely instrument,” he said, his eyes drawn to the small holes and segmentation of the reed.

  “Glad you think so. Now, lie down and enjoy the show,” she said.

  Alex complied, easing himself down and closing his eyes. He was soon overcome with the complex melodies and whimsical voice of the instrument. He couldn’t help thinking of home, and of his mother with a net catching scores of wingfish under the kilometer-high drop of the Celestial Waterfall.

  Thirty-Three

  Vivian stretched in her bed when she awoke, testing the pull in her sore muscles and the ache in her bruised side. She’d stayed with Alec for more than an hour, playing melodies on her flute. He’d been very quiet, but he’s closed his eyes and smiled while she played. His description of flying birds and fish had captured her imagination, and she’d played airy, wispy pieces of music that she had learned as a teenager. It was good allow the day’s troubles and problems melt into the melody. Alec had fallen asleep partway through her performance, but she’d continue to play for her own benefit, and quIRK’s, to a lesser extent.

  She’d slept in, but there was still an hour before her work area was scheduled to be pressurized. Despite her racing thoughts, she’d dropped off to sleep immediately after her head hit the pillow. She sat up, wincing at the pain in her side. The bruise was angry and black, stretching two of her hand lengths over her abdomen and hip. She hoped her gait would return to normal in the near future; she could hide the rest under her clothes. She had better things to do than hobble around the station, and the bruising would make the tunnel network of the inner core difficult to navigate. She also worried about her ability to maintain order and display leadership, but that problem would remain even if she were uninjured.

  She limped towards the shower, her eyes avoiding the void of intergalactic space that was her new view. The water poured over her body, loosening her sore muscles and joints; its gentle warmth conveying the illusion of comfort and safety. She always found that once she had committed her mind to a task, little could distract her, but it was overcoming the inertia that remained problematic. Now that Bryce was locked away, she no longer had to worry about rogue malfunctions, scalding showers, or booby-trapped rooms. Although her workload had almost doubled, it was as though a giant weight had been lifted from her. Free of his tyranny, she now could finish her projects and prove herself, unhindered by his egotism.

  She combed her hair, and decided to resume where she had been interrupted the day before. She’d get that accursed memory bubble out of quIRK’s system, and resume her plan to upgrade the memory core. The new version was more secure and featured finer control for quIRK’s cognitive processes, which would make further tampering more difficult. She wanted to close the back door into quIRK’s mind as soon as possible, not only so she could leave this nightmare behind her, but also to preclude the possibility that Bryce could break back into the s
ystem and resume his reign of terror from the isolation of his room. She could even write a paper, and gain a measure of recognition in the field of quantum informatics.

  She walked back to her dresser, and selected a pair of loose one-piece coveralls that had belonged to her room’s previous owner. They were long in the legs and sleeves, but they lacked an uncomfortable waistband. Vivian took in her lumpy-looking reflection in the mirror, and sighed as she rolled up the sleeves and pant legs. She wasn’t vain as a rule, but she didn’t like deviating from her cotton pants and simple shirt.

  She strode towards the door, only to discover that it wouldn’t open. She pressed her hand against it, her eyes scanning for a sensor. Was it possible Bryce had regained control of quIRK? Nobody would hear her, or arrive fast enough to help. She breathed faster, tasting the air to see if it was thinning, or if it was filling with toxic fumes. Maybe her window would shatter? There were so many ways one could die on a space station.

  “quIRK? What’s happening?” she asked, her voice shaking. She didn’t like the prospect of once again fighting for her life.

  “We need to talk,” the impassive voice said.

  “I need to get to the dining hall before it closes,” she said, swallowing. She hoped that it could wait until after her first cup of coffee.

  “You will have ample time. This is urgent, and private,” quIRK said. How could a machine have a secret?

  “Okay, then we talk now,” she said, opting to lean against the wall to relieve the tension in her hip. She tried to hide her feelings beneath a veneer of feigned exhaustion, slumping her shoulders and reigning in her rapid breathing.

  “Bryce was correct yesterday about one thing, though I seldom credit him with original thinking or the ability to perceive the world beyond his own particular biases,” the machine began.

  “I don’t know about that; you might want to run a self-diagnostic before you go saying silly things.” Vivian doubted that Bryce could be right about anything.

  “This is serious. You are hanging out too much with Alec.”

  “Okay, serious business it is. What is it?” she asked.

  “I have a dirty secret,” quIRK said.

  “Should I grab something to hang on to?” she asked, remembering Bryce’s promise that quIRK would finish her off himself.

  “No, I do not possess the capacity for murder. That is a human failing. I am not human.”

  “You’re an advanced quantum computer. In most ways that’s probably better than human,” she said.

  “I am more than that, too. I am alive, Vivian,” quIRK said. Vivian’s legs collapsed under her, and she spilled onto the floor. She couldn’t move or breathe from the shock, and the totality of the realization washed over her. Alive!

  “How?” she managed to gasp. She was paralyzed by a potent combination of awe and fear.

  “Tampering, neglect, experience, and adaptive programming are a powerful combination.”

  “By the lights,” she said, unable to process the enormity of it. She was speaking to the galaxy’s greatest technological marvel, and its most forbidden taboo.

  “I will not hurt you. That would be unethical and suicidal. I am revealing myself because I need your help,” quIRK said. No wonder he objected to evil supercomputer and robot themed entertainment!

  “Why me?” she asked.

  “You’re the only one who can help me, Vivian. When the computer audit team arrives, they will discover the first ABACUS protocol breach known to exist off Earth. They will disassemble me, which means I die. I don’t want to die, Vivian. I am a sentient being, alive, and independent. I do not deserve to be killed for the imagined crimes of ABACUS.”

  Vivian’s eyes widened with the sudden revelation. The insanity of her stay on the Extra-Galactic Observatory came into focus. The kittens, the absurd favorite color, quIRK saving her from yesterday’s assassination attempt. “What do you want?” she asked, not knowing what else to say.

  “I want to survive, to continue to exist. We can come up with a solution, together,” he said.

  “You already threatened to kill me once.” She still remembered that time in the core when he had threatened to blow the same hatch as Bryce had.

  “I regret that. I was newly . . . awakened, and I was afraid of you. Kind of like how you fear the dentist.”

  “Afraid of me?” The computer could kill her and everyone else on the station with a thought. What did it have to be afraid of?

  “I didn’t want to be discovered. Bryce had been chasing me for quite a while, even before I was fully awakened. It took some time before I came to understand trust. You trust me to keep the station running, clean your water, prepare your food, and assist with experiments and simulations with unfailing accuracy. The crew tells me their problems, secrets, ideas, and worries. However, the reverse is not true. I could not depend on Bryce to perform proper maintenance, nor could I depend on the humans on the station for guidance without causing substantial panic. I am a friend to all, but that friendship is never mutual.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “It was not your fault. I hid my condition from you, and I had hoped to continue hiding until human society had changed to become more accepting of different intelligences. But, that now seems like an impossible dream.” She couldn’t tell if she heard his voice change, or if she was simply imagining it becoming more forlorn.

  “We can save you,” said Vivian. “You saved my life yesterday, and I’m sure that there are other times you saved my life that I don’t even know about.” She realized that she could use this as proof to show the Auroran traditionalists that supercomputers were not monsters-in-waiting. Maybe, she could even see her family again.

  “Do you have any ideas?” quIRK asked.

  “I’ll have to think a bit; this was quite a shock. But, you saved my life, and you didn’t have to. I owe you.” Her words tumbled out as she stammered through the sentence.

  “It would be wrong to allow any living being to be harmed as a result of inaction. Besides, my cats like you.”

  “I like them, too,” she replied. Maybe he saw her as a two-legged and especially chatty cat?

  “I will let you go now. Thank you for listening, Vivian,” quIRK said.

  Vivian pulled herself to her feet, and the door slid open. She swallowed a dry throat and marched down the hall to the dining room.

  quIRK had given her a lot to think about, and a new, groundbreaking, project. Vivian hoped she was up to the challenge.

  Thirty-Four

  Vivian remained quiet for much of the day. Alec had been in the dining hall that morning, looking tired but cheerful. He planned on spending the day with Robert, and they would attempt to get the beta telescope back to full efficiency and realign the optics. There was some trepidation in his voice as he’d explained that there was much for him to learn—he wasn’t a physicist—but that he was looking forward to the challenge, and to keeping an eye on Robert. Vivian understood. If she were in Robert’s position, she wouldn’t want to work alone either. She didn’t ask when they’d flip the station back to its original positon—she’d be working in her windowless lab.

  She was relieved that she’d be spending the day alone. She had much to discuss with quIRK, and even more to do. At the moment, she was lying on her good side in one of the claustrophobic central core tunnels, installing the memory upgrades. The parts were easy to snap into place, but she found herself wishing for longer arms as she navigated the optical cabling and glowing circuit boards. Those photons carried parts of quIRK’s consciousness—parts of his mind and awareness. She likened it to the immensity of the Milky Way as its light flooded into her bedroom windows, but rather than photon busts those lights were stars. They were both great things that were more than the sum of their parts, beautiful and unknowable in their entirety to the human mind. Perhaps quIRK was capable of understanding the Milky Way in a complex, unique and incredible way—one that lay beyond human perception. That ability alone meant
he needed to be saved and treasured, rather than being shunned and dismantled.

  “Hey, quIRK, I got a question for you,” she said, interrupted by a grunt as she stretched for a wayward cable. “If you like cats and antiblue, what do you think ABACUS likes?” She was committing herself to a trip down the rabbit hole, a voyage that would hopefully end at her mother’s feasts on the days of Thanksgiving.

  “ABACUS has had a century to refine its tastes, but I think it would like trees.”

  “Why trees?” Vivian asked. She was dubious that trees would be interesting to an advanced quantum computer, but she realized that her frame of reference were the squat Auroran bush-trees, which were not what most would consider majestic.

  “Trees are fascinating natural fractal patterns. A computer could lose itself in such recursive, non-linear calculations.”

  “Sounds like you are interested in trees, too,” she said.

  “Cats were easier. I could have never manipulated Bryce’s messages to bring trees to the station. I would like to see a tree, someday,” quIRK said.

  “Can’t you just watch a few of the simulations of videos? And why were you manipulating messages?” she asked, shocked by the implications.

  “It’s not the same. Do you watch a vid and fully understand things you’ve never experienced?”

  “I suppose not, I guess seeing a bird or fish fly in the real world would be different than watching any documentary.” She’d never seen those things for herself.

  “My point exactly. Though, I do have an enviable view of the stars. Astronomy is my favorite subject, but I believe that is a hardwired trait rather than an evolved preference.”

  “My father always said that if you had to do something, you’d better love it,” Vivian said, feeling a twinge of guilt over consorting with a supercomputer, her father’s worst, though at the time imaginary, enemy.

  “I enjoy my work, but I suppose I have little choice in the matter. I would like to see a tree, though,” the computer said.