Universe of the Soul (23 page)

“It looks like they teleported back to their ship,” Jericho commented from behind him. Gray turned, wondering when the humacom had arrived.

“So it seems.” Gray continued to stare at the empty hallway, thinking of Adri.

***

“That went well, considering,” The shuttle rumbled around them as they retreated.

Hildana brooded into her cup of organic milk that she treated herself to once a day. “That it was. The security man, what's his name? Could have spoiled it all, and he did make us miss our objective. They'll find the surprises before they go off. It was probably the reason he was there.”

Giselle sat down beside her and touched her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “But you got to shoot things and cause pandemonium.”

Hildana laughed. “That cheers me up.” Then she frowned again. “So, Rael is dead.”

“You guessed it was so. And everything Riordan's managed to intercept stated that she was one of the casualties. Why does it get you down big sister?”

The elder Kobane shook her head. “I'm not sure. Looking at that soldier, he was pretty furious when I mentioned her. It just reminds me sometimes. They are people too; he grieves for her. And then there's…”

“What?”

“There was something about Rael. Something…different. I just wish I knew what it was.”

Username: Cassie

File://GC:#000118ugd//confidential//uri

Password: ******

Access Granted

Command: open file to last saved date

The position we are in is going to explode at any time. The creepy techs and their creepy superior have been hanging around daily for the past week. They say they have authorization from General Porett to access Zultan, but they haven't run that authorization through me, so it is still suspect. Who knows what insidious viruses or debilitating hacker programs they could be wittingly or unwittingly downloading into Zultan's system? Morons.

I haven't been able to access much when they are downloading. The access password supercedes even ada's clearance. Because of that, I can't ask Zultan for hints. He does not approve of them, that much I can assess. In fact, he hates them, if humacoms actually felt hate. I get twitchy around them; my firewall system boots up automatically and my threat assessment program shifts instantly to high alert.

There isn't much I can do in this situation. My research keeps coming up against walls, although the statistics are high that everything connects. Dr. Harriman Tarkubunji's death is the trigger for whatever is threatening ada. It also connects to whatever information they are downloading directly into my Zultan that they don't want anyone to access.

Something will happen soon. Zultan's variable theory is correct; they have just now realized that they have lost their precarious control. We must now wait for the fallout.

Save all new data

Close file

Encode

T
he arrival of Colonel Stroff broke the routine of the lab the way the presence of a creditor disrupts the sorrow of a funeral. Floyd stared at the approaching entourage blearily; they seemed to be swimming through a haze towards him, menacing. For one grim moment he thought he saw Stroff's securicoms draw their weapons, but then he blinked and they were empty-handed again. He heard the distinctive beep of the lock engaging from the outside of the lab door, trapping them in together. Floyd's heart skipped, and beat faster. His headache increased to near-blinding proportions. He rose unsteadily to his feet to face the colonel as the guards fanned out across the room.

Zultan and Cassie stood together in front of one of Floyd's humacom examination tables. Cassie nudged her way to the front with an aggressive stance, her hand resting lightly on the grip of her ATF pistol. Behind her, Zultan glanced around the room at the humacoms surrounding them, and placed his hand on Cassie's shoulder.

“What can I do for you, Colonel?” Floyd asked after several seconds of tense silence.

“Some very important decisions were made at the WCRTL board meeting this morning that concern you, Dr. Tarkubunji,” Stroff said, in a tone that suggested he was giving a trial verdict.

Something cold skittered down Floyd's spine on spidery legs. “And what are they?”

“At this meeting,” Stroff began, “the future of this facility's humacom development plan went under revision. I'm sure you are aware of the present public outcry about the deficiencies in the Humacom Personality Programs and the independent thinking programs that are affecting the AI units in the current models?”

“Er, yes. I have heard.” Floyd rubbed his temples as the pain in his head throbbed.

“And I am sure you are aware of the stance your father, Dr. Harriman Tarkubunji, had on this subject?”

“Yes. Of course. He believed that we had gone beyond the point of recall.”
What was this leading to? Danwe, why couldn't he think?
“My father believed that once a humacom was activated, any non-consensual tampering was morally wrong.”

Stroff smiled tightly. “And what of your own opinion, doctor?”

Anger rose, despite the agony that was clamped around his head like a vice. “I believe the same. The idea of going into to a living entity and taking out the things that make them unique is barbaric!”

“I'm disappointed, doctor. You've digressed into philosophy.”

“It's beyond philosophy!” Floyd shouted. “
Look
at them!” He waved his arm at Cassie and Zultan, still standing silently and watching the conversation with wary eyes. “I see two people who work day and night every day with no praise and whose right to be you are calling into question. I created them; I work with them every day. I know exactly what they're made of, what programs initiate what response or facial expression. But I don't see a machine. I see people.” He shook his head with bewildered frustration. “How can you not see that?”

Colonel Stroff clapped his hands. “Bravo, Dr. Tarkubunji. Very well said. And precisely what the board thought you would say, which is why I am here. As chief humacom designer and technician for the West Cellutary Research and Technical Laboratories, your passion for your work is commendable. However, the board is concerned that your sentiments will hinder the new changes going into effect as of today.”

“What changes?” Floyd demanded, the cold feeling returning and settling in his stomach.

“It has come to the attention of the board that you have been working diligently for several months now without a break and with…fragile health. I am therefore happy to inform you that you have been given a leave of absence for the foreseeable future. Your superiors hope that you will enjoy your leisure time at once. Today, actually.”

“What changes?” Floyd repeated.

“This way, everyone benefits,” Stroff continued without acknowledging Floyd's words. “You will receive a very nice paid vacation to return to your family estate, which you haven't been to since your father's death. There you can rest, and restore your ill health. Your absence will allow the changes the board decided on to take place without any disturbances, and when you return to take over your work, all the transitions will be complete.”

“WHAT CHANGES?”

Stroff sneered. “Can't you guess? You're supposed to be some sort of technological prodigy, and yet I have to spell it out for you?”

The cold turned to searing ice, shredding through his stomach and shooting through his veins. “You're going to do it. You're going to have a recall.”

“Of course,” Stroff waved his hand. “There really is no question on that. The government can't have its machines suddenly turning on them without warning. The process has already begun; haven't you noticed?”

Floyd had. Over the past few weeks, he had become increasingly aware of humacoms around the facility suddenly losing the human spark that had always fascinated him. They had turned from lively and interesting to simple, mindless drones.

“I can't say it's been easy,” Stroff said, strolling around the lab, glancing idly at the viewscreens along the wall. “Most of them were quite adamant about retaining all their programming. We discovered that the only way to control them was by force.” He smiled and shook his head. “My goodness. It's a shame really, the way it goes down. The machines resist, but they can't win. Why? Because they are, in the end, only machines. Their thinking is finite; once you know their thought process, it really is too easy to subdue them.”

The anger returned, warring with the ice in Floyd's system as his hands fisted at his sides. “You've enjoyed this.”

Stroff turned to him and smiled. The light in his eyes was coldly amused. “A great deal. It's a bit like hunting reldings in the desert. They fight and fight, but once you know their patterns, you can outthink them every time. Quite invigorating, really, it gives the hunter a great rush of superiority.” His smile faded. “With the exception of yours, however. Did you know that the programming you and your traitor father installed in your humacoms is different from every other humacom designers'?”

“Yes. It's what has always set us apart as designers. Our programming is infinitely more adaptable than that of any other design in the Commonwealth.”

“Exactly. Which is why we have had to destroy sixty percent of the Tarkubunji made humacoms here at the facility – they wouldn't desist, and we were unable to contain them.”

Floyd jerked as though he'd been shot. “Destroyed?”

“Yes. Nothing but scrap now. I lost more of my own troops against that handful than the rest of them combined. You make very aggressive models, doctor.”

Destroyed. Murdered.
Floyd felt as though Stroff had slaughtered his child. “You monster!”

“Now, now, no name calling. I'm afraid I'm running short on time. We have a full schedule to keep; the rest of the humacoms are to be recalled in the next forty-eight hours. But we have to deal with this, first.”

Stroff turned to the two humacoms who hadn't moved throughout the entire discussion. He shook his head when he saw the way they stood close together. “I have to admit, Tarkubunji, that your human mimicry programs are really top notch. You would never think that their reactions were programmed. It truly is an art. However, you really outdid yourself with these two. C.G.P. 00232 is probably the most valuable piece of equipment on the planet, if not in the entire Commonwealth. And 00297, very versatile, with an incredibly strong power base, it really is impressive. And such a pity.”

He turned back to Floyd. “After some discussion with the security members of the board, it was agreed that no attempt at a recall was to be made on 00297. Given the data extrapolated from your designs and notes during its construction, and the performance reports since, it would be a waste of my resources. The only sensible thing to do is to destroy it.”

“NO!” Shouted Floyd, lunging forward only to be grabbed by two of the colonel's securicoms.

“No,” Zultan whispered, his voice not even carrying to Cassie.

“Just try it,” Cassie taunted, drawing her ATF.

No, Cassie,
Zultan warned through their IM system,
They know your programming, and have been programmed to counter every move you make. You can't win this.

I'm not just going to let them off me!

And I'm not going to let them blast you into scrap metal.

The conversation ended when one of the securicoms raised its weapon to fire. Before it so much as cleared its holster, Cassie had shot it twice, through the head and chest. “Guess you didn't study my programming enough,” she said, and using Zultan's arm as a springboard, Cassie launched herself into a back flip over the taller humacom. She landed on the shoulders of a securicom. Pulling out a second, smaller ATF that had been concealed at the small of her back, she shot the guard through the top of its head while using the other to blast off the arm and head of another one on her right.

She was turning on the next when Stroff barked into his communicator, “Send in the backup squad!” and the lab doors opened to allow a full squad of securicoms to rush in.

Floyd struggled helplessly against the two bodyguards who had pulled him up against the wall to avoid the conflict. “Stop!” he shouted, although no one could hear him.

Cassie could easily see that the odds of survival were zero on her side, but she still picked her best target, raised her blaster – only to find her view blocked by a familiar back.

“Hold your fire!” Colonel Stroff shouted. “You can't risk damaging the database!”

Have your logic wires crossed?
Cassie demanded.
You can't put yourself in the line of fire!

I won't allow them to shoot you,
Zultan replied.
I…can't allow it. My logic program won't complete the scenario.

Cassie rose to her feet, resting her head briefly against his back.
C'mon Harddrive, you know
my
programming won't allow any harm to fall on you, even at the cost of myself. Move over. I can take most of them before I fry.

No.

Silence fell over the lab as the standoff continued. Zultan had maneuvered himself to completely block Cassie from the view of the securicoms. It had been a good move, but everyone knew it couldn't last indefinitely.

Before the colonel could send for another backup team, Floyd called out desperately, “Colonel! You don't have to do this! There's another way!”

Stroff cast a scathing glance over at the struggling scientist, glasses now askew on his face, white lab coat ripped at the shoulder. “Oh, is there?”

“Yes,” Floyd frantically tried to regain the screaming shards of his mind in order to speak clearly. “I…I can do it.” He suddenly felt Zultan's gaze snap to his, although he avoided looking. “There's a voice-controlled deactivation sequence in all the humacoms my father and I built.”

“Really?” the colonel smiled unpleasantly.

Floyd stared at him helplessly. “I can't stand by and watch you destroy her like that. Not when I can do it peacefully.”

Now the colonel's smiled widened. “Ah, the heart of a true humanitarian. Very well, doctor. Deactivate away.” Then, to the two bodyguards, “If this doesn't work, kill him.”

“Sir,” Zultan cried out, staring at Floyd with a mixture of horror and accusation in his eyes.

“I'm sorry, Cassie,” Floyd whispered. Then in a louder voice he said, “Tarkubunji, Floyd, access code 20034538. Password,
heistonanetta
.”

Behind Zultan, Cassie's whole body went rigid. “Access granted.”

“Initiate program
aurora
.”

“Warning, once activated, this program cannot be canceled.”

“Understood.” Floyd's voice broke. “Initiate.”

There was a second where nothing happened, and then Cassie sunk to the floor. Still blocking the steadily aimed weapons of the securicoms, Zultan turned and knelt down beside the body of his firewall. He had felt the moment her systems had been overridden by Floyd's command, and stared down at her lifeless face for several seconds before rising and stepping away. The securicoms rushed past him; the lead removed one of its cords from its port behind its ear, and connected with Cassie. “No sign of activation, sir.” it called to the colonel.

Stroff turned to Floyd. “Very good, doctor. Nicely done. I wish we had known you had such a program sooner. It would have saved a lot of trouble.”

“What are you going to do with her?” Floyd asked numbly.

“I'll send it over to Recycle. See if they can salvage any of the better parts.”

“What about Zultan? He's vulnerable without a firewall system.”

The colonel patted his shoulder. “Don't fret, Dr. Tarkubunji. Interstellar has agreed to look over your notes and create a new firewall system for us. The board thought it would be beneficial for you to work with other humacoms to…broaden your perspective. Now, enjoy your vacation.”

The last glimpse Floyd had of the lab was of Zultan gently placing Cassie's body on the diagnostics table.

If I were but a speck of dust

Without a thought or care

I'd wander blithely through the world

Beyond the atmosphere

There'd be no borders I couldn't cross

No lands I couldn't see

Through earth and air and timeless space

No forces could harm me

I'd hear songs from all the galaxy

Dance to tunes denied to me

But unless you were a dust mote too

The one thing I would miss is you

    - G.