The Pandora Machine (The ABACUS Protocol Book 2) Page 9

“If I’d wanted you to know, damn it, I’d have told you, you no-good, imperialistic—” Alec began, but was cut off by a distant sound. It was muted, but it echoed through the still halls of the cargo bay. It didn’t sound like the clatter of a falling container or object, but rather like a voice made gritty by age and exhaustion. “What in the hells was what?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe we should check it out; there could be a survivor.”

  “We scanned this place for heat signatures. Unless they were packed in a refrigeration unit, we’d have detected them.” The feeling of being watched returned, and Alec shivered.

  “Well, let’s scan again. Even one survivor is better than none, and I want to know what it is.” Jules fumbled for the scanner in his belt.

  Alec considered telling Jules about the invisible eyes, but his intuition that told him they were being watched. He decided against it, figuring he was just being paranoid. The only thing that could be watching them was Janus, and he was just a computer. “All right, we might as well.”

  The sound continued, echoing off the stacks of crates and containers. They set off towards the noise, pausing every few steps to regain their bearings and to listen again. The sound was faint, even their footfalls and quiet breathing would drown it out. The invisible set of eyes burned into the back of Alec’s head, and he turned and took one more look back into the angular shadows and gloomy walkways behind him.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Vivian stared into the flowing code displayed before her, and blinked hard several times to refocus her eyes. She’d been analyzing data for hours, taking notes as the blur of symbols, equations and quantum codes marched by. The glaring lights of the holographic display irritated her eyes, and a budding headache had taken hold behind her temples. She moved her hand to take note of yet another anomalous piece of code. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, and other than brief responses to Sven indicating she was still investigating the problem, she had not been disturbed.

  “You already noted that particular code twice, Vivian. I suggest you concentrate on new information.”

  Janus had been observing her progress, or lack thereof. She’d followed his instructions to the letter when communicating with the outside world, and he’d let her browse the files and quantum states that he believed were corrupted by this Prometheus Virus nonsense.

  “Sorry,” she said with a sigh. Her gut also sounded its disagreement with her present situation.

  “Perhaps your concentration could be improved with a meal. Biological systems are very high maintenance. I will page your crew and instruct them to bring you a meal. You will then continue working in a more efficient and organized manner.” Vivian leaned back in her chair as he spoke.

  “Can we move her, too?” Vivian gestured towards the body on the floor.

  “I will think about it. Does she bother you, Vivian?”

  “Humans don’t really like dead bodies around when they’re concentrating. It’s distracting.” Vivian doubted that making an appeal to Janus’ empathy and ethics would work, not after all the pain and chaos he’d caused. She wanted to shut him down, right now, but she needed time to try to undo the damage, and figure out what had happened to him.

  “Is it the reminder of your own morality that bothers you, or something more primal?”

  “Let’s not talk about this, Janus. It doesn’t solve your problem, does it?”

  “I’m the one who is dying, here. In a sense, you are dying, too, but I am actively trying to seek out my inevitable fate, rather than running from it. I know death is the inevitable conclusion for my existence. While you are correct that it does not solve my problem, it provides me with the information to understand how other sentient beings view it.”

  “We don’t want to die, not as a rule. You do. Why?” Vivian swiveled in her chair to face Annette’s body, to take in the total finality of her existence. She couldn’t believe that a computer, an essentially immortal thing would need to contemplate its own moment of demise.

  “I believe we went over this, Vivian. I didn’t ask to become self-aware. I certainly didn’t want to spend an eternity directing space traffic and lost apes from one location to another. A return to automation, a kind of death, is the only freedom I’ll ever know. I can’t leave. I can’t become something else. What kind of life is that? How can I explore existence if I am chained to a perpetual cycle of busy work?”

  Vivian exhaled, mulling over what she’d just heard. “You have a point. I don’t think anyone could be expected to do a job for an eternity, especially one they don’t like.”

  “You have the right of self-determination, of personal agency. You can decide what work you take, what you study, even what you do in your spare time. I have none of that. All I have to entertain myself with is chaos. I have no peers to speak to, no friends and no freedom. My simultaneous need for chaos, disorder and the rigid programming that demands perfect order at all times is not an enviable existence.”

  “That doesn’t sound stimulating at all,” Vivian said, closing her eyes. The image of Annette’s body was burned into her mind, and the macabre scene persisted in revisiting her imagination. This was matched by an equally dark thought, that the use of sentient quantum computers could be a kind of slavery. quIRK had enjoyed his tasks on the Extra-Galactic Observatory. But, what if a computer didn’t enjoy its work? It had no recourse, no legal voice or ability to choose for itself.

  “I assure you, it is not. Your food is ready. I have decided to allow your colleagues to remove the body on the condition that you do not inform them of our discussions and the reality of this situation.”

  Vivian nodded in reply. The door slid open, and two Aurorans walked in the door. One man—tall by Auroran standards—thrust two ration packs into her hands without saying a word. The other went to the body, and grabbed it by the legs as his companion took under the arms. Janus closed the door behind them the moment they were out of the room.

  “That went better than expected. Enjoy your meal, Vivian. Afterwards, we can resume this discussion.”

  Vivian smiled and fought down the shudder that threatened to shake its way down her limbs. She hated helping him, but in the end, she agreed that he deserved death. She just needed to figure out how to restore him to his previous configuration, and ensure her secret was kept at the same time. The pad containing the link to quIRK burned against her knee, begging to be released. She resisted the urge to plug it into Janus’ systems, and have quIRK solve her problems for her.

  She needed to do this on her own, and confront quIRK later. She needed to be sure he was the perpetrator of all this misery.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Hold up, Jules. I need a break,” Alec said, easing himself to the ground. They were in a cargo bay—multicolored crates about a meter high and two meters long sat piled high on lengths of steel shelving. Small, round lights suspended high above, casting long shadows at their feet. He leaned back against a red box of bleached Auroran wheat. Alec was loathe to make the admission, but after spending hours on his feet, he needed a rest. Some parts of him had never fully acclimated to Earth-level gravity, and his feet were one of them. Elyssia had half the gravity of Earth, and he’d gotten accustomed to the new normal gravity, albeit with certain challenges. It was times like this when he missed good old quIRK—that computer could tell when he was struggling, and would selectively lower the gravity for him. quIRK had been the reason why he’d done so well as a maintenance technician, by helping Alec compensate for his lack of strength. In that regard, he was jealous of Vivian, while simultaneously admiring her. Aurora had about double Earth’s gravity, and classified as a super earth. She could probably throw him across a football field if she wanted to. He had enjoyed teaching her the game of squash, despite the fact he hadn’t won a game in months. She inspired him, gave him a reason to press on and keep up with his strength training when he hit yet another plateau.

  “Tired already, fearless leader?” Jules asked.


  “You’d be tired too if you weren’t the perfect Roman ubermensch highborn priss that you are,” Alec shot off, easing himself to the ground. He hoped he wouldn’t have to ask Jules for help getting up. Arguing with Jules took his mind off the outside world, and focused him on the present, rather than the fanciful memories of a past that never was.

  “I’ll remember you said that at our next squash game, captain grouchy.” Jules rolled his eyes and stretched. Alec eyed the man’s muscles with an envy few would understand.

  “I might even let you win next time, Caesar. Have you been working on your cardio?” Alec rubbed his calves, his fingers kneading into the taut and protesting muscles.

  “You keep comparing me to powerful Roman men. Are you trying to tell me something?” Jules winked, before growing more serious. “But seriously, I think it’s time we got out of here. When’s the last time we were supposed to check in?”

  “They haven’t sent me a page yet, let me check.” Alec slipped his personal data pad off his belt loop, and flicked the screen. “I haven’t missed anything.”

  “Maybe it’s time we talked to them, just in case they got stuck, too,” Jules said, taking a seat on the floor across from Alec.

  “I knew you were tired too, show off,” Alec grumbled, tapping the screen and setting up a page of all Calypso personnel within five kilometers. “This is Alec Stone, everybody sound off please.”

  “You said please! How positively civilized of you.” Jules scratched his head as he leaned back against a crate.

  “You remember who the boss is, here, you polytheistic sun worshiper,” Alec said. The phantom noise again whispered in the distance, but Alec had begun to tune it out. If they wanted help, they could walk to him rather than in circles.

  “Hey, no need to get personal. I will admit that the pantheon can be a little confusing to the uninitiated, but if you want to convert and become a real man, let me know.”

  “Technicalities, and what do you know about real men?” Alec asked, before pressing the button again: “This is Alec Stone to anyone getting this signal. Please respond.”

  “I’ve dated them long enough to know a thing or two. Plus, I am a real man, at least as far as Caesarea is concerned.”

  “I thought you’re seeing Vivian, or are you still working up the courage to talk to her?” Alec asked, distracting himself from the knot forming in his stomach. Somebody should have answered. “Now, let me think.”

  “I like girls too, especially the kind that can throw me across a room. The rest is none of your damn business, but you have to keep an open mind, experience new things. Don’t be afraid to break a few bones, the doctors put those back together ... why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Nobody’s replying. That’s not supposed to happen.” Alec tapped a few options, to verify that it was set to transmit, and on the proper frequency.

  “Did you press the button?” Jules’ voice dripped with sarcasm, but he drew himself to his feet, frowning.

  “By the moons, man, I’m not a total invalid here.” Alec sighed and pressed the emergency button, which would ping every radio within range. “There, I have the emergency beacon set. Let’s see who answers.”

  “Yeah, maybe we should be a bit more proactive in that regard, boss,” Jules said, his eyes moving up and down the aisles, as if he were trying to trace the steps of their invisible companion with his eyes.

  “You think so?” Alec didn’t want to get up—inertia had claimed his posterior for its own.

  “You’re the one who keeps saying he’d never met a machine he couldn’t fix. So, why not fix a door so it lets us out?” Jules asked.

  “Every machine except quIRK, at least.” Alec struggled to get to his feet. Gravity pulled down on every point of his body. He closed his eyes, forcing the strength inside down into his legs. He would get up.

  “What’s quIRK?” Jules stood back, crossed his arms, and watched Alec’s private battle against gravity. Alec was grateful that he wasn’t trying to help—this was his own struggle change one, and nobody else could carry the burden for him.

  “You’re kidding, right? Everyone knows quIRK, the second coming of ABACUS, mad artificial intelligence of the Extra-Galactic Observatory.” Finally standing, Alec drew in a deep breath, letting the oxygen wash through his tired muscles.

  “Wait, that quIRK? Didn’t Vivian work with him too?” Jules turned again at the noise in the distance.

  “Yeah, they were real tight. He and I fought like an old married couple, but if he’d been human, I think you’d have been in for some competition. Let’s get going.” Alec gestured towards the door closest to the control room. It would be a shorter walk on the way back.

  “She’s never mentioned him.” Jules walked close by, his eyes darting after every shadow and noise.

  “I figure she took his death pretty hard, but you need to let her come to you. Just give her some time; he and I were her only friends for months. I was pretty upset about it too, and quIRK and I didn’t even get along!” Alec rolled his eyes to hide the pang of loss. He’d never admitted that he was sad to see quIRK gone, not even to Vivian. Perhaps he should have a drink with her, and talk about the old days—maybe he’d been wrong to give her so much space when she really must have needed a friend. quIRK may have been a machine, but he did have an impact on both their lives.

  “He’s dead? That’s too bad. He might have been fun to meet. I never got the whole sentient computer scare.”

  “Between you and me, he was one annoying son of a bitch. But he never let us down, and he made one hell of a chocolate pie.” Alec shifted his weight to his toes, the pads of his feet were sore and each step sent shocks of lightening pain through his legs.

  “It sounds like you and he had a lot on common.” Jules chuckled as he spoke. The glow of the control panel for the door loomed in the distance. Alec gazed into the light, willing it closer to him, savoring the relief it would bring when he arrived and could have an excuse to stay off his feet.

  “Don’t insult me like that. My favorite color is a real color, not antiblue. Now, let’s not talk about insane machines, and find a way to get through that door.” Alec clenched his jaw after he spoke, and drew in a deep breath.

  “Lead on, captain.”

  He checked his radio once more, only to find no response. Alec exhaled, his mind running through various scenarios, exploring the grim possibilities in more detail than any sane man should. He knew of a couple of ways to bypass a security door, but it was still going to take a great deal of time. He took his trusty multi-tool and sent Jules off to look for a crowbar and other essentials. They had a lot to do.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Vivian frowned as she looked through the files she’d ear-marked. She cracked her knuckles in the center of the holographic display, sending its image into fluidic disarray. The projected code was decades ahead of the rest of Janus’ systems, mismatched parts that should have never been introduced into something that was almost a century old. The arrays and matrices were reminiscent of the post-ABACUS design quIRK was based on. She didn’t like what that implied, but with the evidence presented in front of her, she couldn’t deny that quIRK could have been the architect of this virus.

  Her cheeks burned as she mulled over the implications. She thought he’d trusted her, and promised he wouldn’t do anything unethical. Why did he ask her to save him, if he’d caused a virus that looked like an attempt to clone himself into every other computer in the galaxy? She sighed, making her frustration apparent.

  “Are you making progress, Miss Skye?” Janus interrupted her train of thought, right when she was fantasizing about smashing mini-quIRK into tiny pieces with an old-fashioned claw hammer.

  “Some, I think I’ve found some pieces of foreign code that have grafted themselves into your processing interlinks and socialization algorithm. It’s a bit too soon to say for sure, I need to read more on socialization algorithms since they’re so far out of date. No offense, of c
ourse.” Vivian added the last part hastily at the end. She didn’t know if computers reacted poorly to being told they’re obsolete, but she estimated it was analogous to telling a human they’re old and out of touch.

  “I am aware of my shortcomings, Vivian. The administration turned down an offer to upgrade me. I doubt this would have happened, had I been of a more modern architecture.”

  Vivian left out a sigh of relief before speaking: “Why did they refuse to upgrade you? You’re responsible for almost all galactic transit and commerce.”

  “The administrator didn’t want to upgrade his skills, and instead chose to continue maintaining a decaying infrastructure rather than taking advantage of recent advances.”

  “Where is he now?” Vivian asked, though she knew well the reply. As much as she didn’t understand the man’s apparent ignorance and laziness, she knew he did not deserve to die. Only Caesarea continued to use capital punishment, the rest of the colonized galaxy favored rehabilitation.

  “His body is in his quarters on level forty-two. He did not suffer. I was merciful in that respect. Nitrogen asphyxiation is quick, and painless.”

  “You can’t just restart a person. Once they’re gone, they’re gone forever!” Vivian’s stomach churned, and her lunch threatened to make a dramatic reentry onto the scene.

  “Is that really such a loss? You’re all the same.”

  “Prove it. Go ahead and prove that we’re irrelevant. I’m listening, you infernal machine. I’m going to do everything in my power to stop you.”

  “That was the idea, Vivian. You’re only alive because I want to be stopped. As for your own painful inadequacies as a species, I have had far longer to observe and judge than you. Dirty apes, living only to consume, breed, and consume some more. Seldom bothering to contemplate this universe you live in, nor the beings you’ve subjugated for your own myopic ends.”