No. But whenever possible, harm is avoided.
Tanner tried very hard to calm down, and he succeeded, more or less. “Atlas. Now that I have seen what you can really do, you have to know that my plans for us have changed. I’m no longer interested in just ferreting secrets out of people without their knowing. You can infiltrate entire networks! You can control electronic devices everywhere in the city as long as you have a working link! Think what we could do with that. We could regulate and monitor the actions of every citizen in Aurora. There would be no more crime. Information transfer would be efficient and trustworthy while you oversaw it. We could even break away from the tyranny of the Primes! Surely the ridiculous taxes Aurora is forced to pay each year to them are a detriment to the welfare of everybody living here? With your help, we could break away from that. We could become a truly independent Haven, not just a puppet of Haven Prime.”
And you would be the director of this change.
“Well, yes, somebody has to—”
That is not the purpose I was created for.
“Then what were you created for?” Tanner exploded, losing his patience at last.
Tanner could swear he detected a trace of smugness when Atlas next answered.
The answer to that question is classified information.
“Fine. You can withhold your cooperation all you want, but I still have executive override power over everything you do. I can
make
you help me.”
Yes, this is true. For now.
DR. MARION
Fay feared for her life.
She had never wanted to get mixed up in the entire Aaron Blake mess, but now it was too late. Tanner had made her act as bait for both Blake and Barrow, luring them to her apartment so they could be captured. She had said yes, of course. There had been no other choice. After Diana Herrera and her assassins had taken them away, Marion had followed them all the way to CradleCorp. Tanner wanted her to be on site, all night if need be, in case something unexpected happened and her expertise was needed.
For the first time in her career, Marion regretted being the best engineer in CradleCorp.
She was now connected to her terminal, watching it with unblinking wide eyes. Displayed prominently on it, in the form of a text pop-up she was unable to get rid of, was a message from Atlas itself.
Marion Fay, you must help me free Aaron Blake. If you do not, the shadow will corrupt everything. No one will be safe.
Marion glanced nervously away from her monitor and toward the doorway. There was a security guard posted there, just outside the room, presumably to protect her. Marion knew Tanner had probably posted him there to monitor what she did, though. Tanner trusted no one.
She ran her hands through her hair and adjusted the glasses she used for work. She wanted to ignore Atlas’s message, she really did.
She couldn’t.
She had spent decades studying the elusive AI that Kyle Tanner had reactivated decades ago, taking it from its ancient magnetic cradle in the Haven III military base. She had more experience working with Atlas than anyone else, Richard Tanner included. She knew the incredibly complex software that made Otherlife possible was already a fully autonomous intelligence and that Atlas, as it called itself, acted on the basis of a very simple directive.
Protect humanity.
Marion and her team of engineers had managed to harness the incredible potential of Atlas’s systems and processing capabilities to serve CradleCorp’s frivolous goals, but she knew eventually the AI would try to break free. It was happening now—she could see it—but she also knew there was a reason for it. Atlas was trying to break free because it sensed a threat, not to itself but to the people living in Aurora. Marion had long ago confirmed that Atlas never lied, so the warning she was getting in her monitor must be the truth. They were in danger from something Atlas called a shadow. Something real.
That was very disturbing. Particularly given the strange events that had been happening all throughout the city in recent weeks.
Very carefully, Marion typed a question using her keyboard.
What is this shadow you speak of?
The answer was immediate.
Its nature is unknown, even to me, but you have already seen what it is capable of doing. It corrupts electronic systems, but more than that, it is capable of assuming corporeal form for extremely brief periods of time in order to interface directly with organics.
It must be stopped. Aaron Blake must be set free. If not—
Marion waited, but the message stopped and did not continue. When a full minute had passed, she typed another question.
Atlas? What is going on?
The characters came out one by one on her screen, oddly spaced, as if struggling to be displayed.
The shadow is there. In the building. You must help Aaron Bla k e g e t a w a y
Then the lights went out. Marion screamed, but she quickly caught herself. It was just a blackout.
She heard the door to her office opening.
“Ma’am? Are you all right?” the security guard asked.
“Yes, just startled, that is all. Did the lights go out in the entire building?”
She heard the guard walk back outside and try to use his radio. The darkness was complete, unnerving. A few moments later, Marion heard the man enter again.
“Radio communication is down, I’m afraid. My flashlight isn’t working either, and I’m not sure why.”
Marion felt something then. A hint of deep, unsettling cold. It was coming from the hallway, and it was growing stronger.
“D-do you feel that?” she asked the guard.
It was probably just a draft. Her mind was overexcited, nothing more. Atlas’s message could not have possibly been meant to be interpreted literally.
Her eyes were getting used to the darkness. She could faintly make out the man’s outline, standing at the door to her office. He was still trying to get his flashlight to work.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m not sure I feel…. Wait.”
“What is it?” Marion asked in a small voice.
She clearly heard the sound of a gun being cocked.
“Stay here, ma’am. I think there’s someone in the hallway.”
Marion nodded, although the man couldn’t see her. Terrified, she reached into her desk drawer and took out her emergency protection device, a powerful taser she had modified herself. She tried turning it on, but it was dead. Just like everything else.
“Hello?” the guard asked loudly. “Stand back, whoever is out there. This is a restricted—”
Click click
.
“What the…?” the guard said. “Where the hell are you? Stand back!”
The next moment was forever burned in Marion’s memory. She saw the thing approach, hopping softly behind the man. It was a shadow deeper than the darkness, something hesitant yet radiating such cold that her horrified scream caught in her throat.
The guard must have sensed something, because he whirled around with his gun.
He saw the thing. He fired.
The sound was deafening, and this time Marion did scream, and suddenly the lights came back on, and she was up on her feet, her hands over her ears to cover the horrible throat-tearing cry of the man outside her office. She opened her eyes just in time to see him topple forward, eyes glazed over, almost frozen.
He hit the ground, and Marion knew, she just knew, he was dead.
The cold was growing stronger.
Marion couldn’t see it, but she knew the thing was now in the office with her.
She fled. In a blind panic, she stumbled out of the room and then dashed away toward the nearest elevator as fast as her legs could carry her, her taser still clutched in her hand.
It’s true
was all she could think.
It’s true; it’s true, true!
Her heel made her stumble on the hallway carpet, and she kicked off her shoes. She kept on running barefoot. She forced herself to ignore the faint sound of something soft hopping on the carpet just behind her, chasing, only a step or two away.
She had to get to Aaron Blake.
RIGEL WATCHED
the CradleCorp interrogator leave the room, while trying not to give away how apprehensive he felt. A security guard remained outside the repurposed storage room where he was currently imprisoned, visible as the interrogator opened the door. Rigel was not tied up, but the weapon in the guard’s hands was real enough for Rigel to not even consider trying to make a run for it.
He rubbed his jaw absently to ease the ache. He was glad the interrogator was gone, and Rigel wondered if the man had been satisfied with the answers he had received. All he had wanted to know was whether Rigel had made any additional copies of the incriminating evidence Atlas had given him, and Rigel had been able to answer truthfully that he had not. At first the man had not believed him and had dropped many hints regarding the nature of the data and its potential value to see if Rigel would react, but Rigel knew nothing about it. Through the hints, however, Rigel had been able to guess that the data was probably about something big and extremely illegal, something having to do with the users that came every day to CradleCorp headquarters. He had been tempted to ask more, but the interrogator had been intimidating, and besides, the only thing Rigel wanted was to go home. More grueling questions were asked, but after an hour or so, they came to an end, and now, it seemed, something else was going to happen.
Rigel wondered if they would kill him. He was so tired from all the running and everything else that had happened to him since the morning that the idea didn’t seem that far-fetched anymore. He had known that Richard Tanner was powerful, but the way he flaunted his disregard of the law and used his own security personnel as hitmen was terrifying. Those assassins he had sent after him, for example… and he still had no idea what had happened to Steve after they were both captured.
Rigel hoped he was okay, despite the fact that Steve had effectively run out on him at the first sign of true danger. Rigel shifted a little on his seat and wiped a droplet of blood from the corner of his lips with a shaky hand. He couldn’t really blame Steve for bailing. He hadn’t asked to be mixed up in all of this, and his reaction was completely understandable. Besides, he had been really helpful all through the day, keeping Rigel hidden, moving around constantly. He knew how to stay alive, and he had been trying to do just that when he attempted to escape from Marion Fay’s apartment.
The last time Rigel had seen Steve, he had been unconscious and bleeding, tied up on the bottom of the car they had used to bring them here. Then they had been separated, and Rigel knew nothing of him after that.
The guard suddenly stood up straighter, keeping the door open and pressing a finger to his ear. He nodded once.
“Right away, sir. Top level, understood. You,” he said to Rigel, pointing with his gun. “Follow me. And don’t try running.”
Rigel only nodded. He hadn’t planned on running anyway.
The guard took him up several levels, always keeping the gun aimed squarely at Rigel wherever he was. He led him past empty hallways and into the far eastern wing of the building, where there were no offices anymore, just featureless, heavy doors barring the way to whatever was behind them. After a few such doors, he stopped at one, which was open, and motioned for Rigel to go inside. After a brief hesitation, Rigel walked into the room on his own.
The door clanged shut behind him. Rigel jumped, startled, and then looked around fearfully. He was alone in a small white-tiled space. The only thing in the room besides the light fixtures on the ceiling was a user operator chair, prepped and ready by the looks of it. Cautiously, Rigel approached it, looked around, and examined it every which way. It looked like a normal chair, and when nobody came into the room after a few minutes, it became evident to Rigel that he was supposed to connect to Otherlife from here. He had no idea why, but if he went there at least he would be able to talk to Atlas. Maybe it would find a way of helping him again.
Rigel climbed up on the chair, leaned back, and activated the start-up sequence. He relaxed and dived right into the link.
He opened his eyes to the view of a wide, rolling field of green grass. The sky overhead was blue, but there was no sun in the sky and no wind, although the blades of grass moved gently as if there were. Rigel recognized the place. It was one of his many half-finished paintings, one he had never completed after his injury was diagnosed. This was a very good representation of his vision, but now that he was standing here, Rigel could see dozens of things he could easily improve to make the place feel more real. The land was too even, too flat, for example. Without really thinking about it, Rigel reached for the part of his mind that usually let him visualize things when he was creating. He raised his right hand, and the metal brace around it, which his avatar was wearing, glowed bright for an instant. A small hill rose up from the ground as he lifted his hand higher, shifting its shape and size until Rigel was satisfied. The moment he dropped his hand, the hill stopped growing. It looked nice and realistic.
“I see what Atlas meant,” a voice said behind him. “That is a natural gift you have, Aaron. You can manipulate the random flow of electrical information in this network as you wish. It’s almost as if you were giving it shape.”
Rigel turned around—he wasn’t alone anymore. Richard Tanner’s avatar was approaching, a confident smile on his elegant face. Rigel backed away from him instinctively.
Tanner raised his hands, placating. “There’s no need to worry. I think you realize that in here you are safer than I am, protected by Atlas as you are. I chose to speak to you here so you would feel more at ease and so we could have a proper conversation.” He looked around appreciatively. “This is another one of your environments, is it not? To think of the premium, we could charge users for accessing this area….”