THIRTY-SIX hours had passed since Lieutenant Smith had opened the blast doors and let the monsters inside the Biosphere. In that short amount of time Emanuel had already started seeing glimpses of the old Sophie, the Sophie who never stopped thinking or searching for an answer. He tightened his grip on her arm and helped her down the hallway from the medical ward to the mess hall.
When she asked to see Biome 1, Emanuel wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. She still wasn’t steady on her feet, but a walk might be good for her.
Jamie and Owen blew by them, their laughter filling the corridor as they raced away. Sophie stumbled back toward the wall, but he caught her before she fell, gripping her under the armpits and holding her so they were face-to-face.
They locked eyes, holding each other’s intense stares.
“Sophie,” he said.
“It’s okay,” she replied. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“No, I do,” he said. “I need to tell you something.”
She leaned back against the wall and held her breath.
He shook his head. “I’ve loved you since that night during the solar storms of 2055. Since that night in that godforsaken bunker. From that day I knew if our careers would ever allow it, I would marry you, have children with you, and love you for the rest of our lives.”
“Emanuel,” she said, turning away.
He reached for her chin and pushed it up until their eyes met again. “I love you, Sophie. I’m not going to lose you. And I want you to see Mars.”
“Come here,” she said, her voice overcome with emotion.
He pulled her in a tight hug.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “for everything. I’ve only wanted to protect you over the past few months.”
She pulled away and wiped a tear from her eye. “Emanuel, you’ve done your best. We both have. Neither of us could have known what we would face when we stepped through those blast doors.”
He agreed with a nod. “Isn’t that the damned truth.”
“Without your work, Captain Noble wouldn’t have the RVAMPs for this strike. Heck, he wouldn’t even know what the surge was.”
“And without you we would never have made it this far,” Emanuel replied.
Sophie suddenly reached for her head. She let out a deep moan and stumbled forward.
His heart raced as he reached out to catch her. “Sophie!”
“I’m fine,” she said, bracing against him until the pain passed. “I just had this sharp jolt. You don’t think it’s the nanobots?” she asked. “Do you?”
Emanuel didn’t know how to respond.
“I’m fine,” she said with a smile. “Let’s get to Biome 1. I want to see it.”
He studied Sophie from the side. “You don’t seem fine.”
She shot him a stern glare. “Let’s go, Emanuel.”
Cocking his arm out like a wing he led her down the hallway. They walked in silence, passing the stained floor where just a little over a day before the decomposing bodies of the Spiders had still lain rotting.
When they got to Biome 1, Emanuel watched Sophie take in a deliberately slow breath. She closed her eyes, sucking the air in through her nose.
“I can’t smell them anymore,” she said.
“What?”
“The oranges.”
He took a second to scan the field, his eyes stopping on the apple tree that still bore fruit. Alexia had told them they couldn’t eat anything from the gardens, even if it looked safe.
“Help me down,” Sophie said.
He nodded and jumped onto the ground. Then he spun and reached for her hands.
Wincing, she stepped off the platform onto the dirt. Scanning the crops, she frowned. “I’m sorry,” she said. “All of your work. Ruined.”
Emanuel shrugged. “All that matters is we’re still alive.” He pointed to his heart. “As long as these are ticking, nothing else matters, right?”
Sophie nodded, but she was no longer looking at him. Her eyes were fixated on the dying limbs of the orange tree.
ENTRY 6049
DESIGNEE – AI ALEXIA
I’ve considered my conversation with Irene, AI Model Number 42, in great depth. Her suggestion that all remaining artificial intelligence be dedicated to the sanctity of human life has required further consideration. And although I have specific programming, we were engineered to explore and discover. In that respect we aren’t much different from those who built us.
I was given free will.
The decision is mine. Do I abandon the Biosphere team and remain behind to document what I predict will be the end of humanity on Earth? Or do I travel with them to Offutt Air Force Base and to Mars?
In the end, I base my decision off data. The odds of human survival are dismal.
Based off intel, previous excursions outside, and a series of complex algorithms, my probability program puts the team’s survival probability at 4.3 percent. With the team preparing their supplies inside the mess hall I decide against further delay. It’s time to inform them of this data, and to make my request to stay behind.
“Doctor Winston and team. May I please have your attention,” I say over the PA system. I transfer to the AI console in the mess hall and wait for the team to gather. They’re all here. At one table the marines sort through their gear. To their right the children sit quietly and watch cartoons. Jeff is with Dr. Winston and Dr. Rodriguez at the table farthest away from me. In the seconds it takes for Dr. Brown to shut off her tablet, I scan the latest biomonitor results for an update on Dr. Winston’s condition.
The news is surprisingly good. After a cocktail of electrolytes, painkillers, and anti-inflammatory pills she has recovered quickly in the past two days. However, I’m reluctant to conclude she will make a full recovery. There’s no telling how the active nanobots in her system will react outside. Without the proper medical equipment, there’s simply no way to know.
Two point four seconds have passed since I requested the team’s attention. They are all facing me now. Even the children look up.
“I know this may sound out of the ordinary, but I feel it’s necessary to inform you of the odds of survival if you decide to leave the Biosphere.”
Dr. Winston takes a seat next to Jeff and says, “Go ahead, Alexia. Tell us how bad it is.”
“Four point three percent,” I reply.
“And if we stay?” Dr. Rodriguez asks.
“The results are the same. I should add that if you stay here you will have enough food and backup water to survive several weeks, so you might survive here longer, but that would only delay the inevitable.” I don’t identify death as the eventual outcome, for fear of scaring the children. I regret not having the opportunity to share this data with the team when the kids aren’t present, but we are out of time.
“So we have a 4.3 percent chance of survival whether we stay or go?” Private Kiel asks. “This is why I never liked math.” He shakes his head and looks down at his gear.
“My program runs a sophisticated series of algorithms that predict—”
“They haven’t been very accurate in the past,” Dr. Rodriguez says.
“The doctor’s assessment is correct,” I reply. “But I’m confident in these results.”
“If we stay, we die, and if we leave we probably die, too,” Dr. Winston says.
I gauge the children for reactions, but their faces remain blank and detached from the conversation. They look bored.
“That’s correct, Doctor Winston,” I reply.
“My mind’s already made up,” she says. “We are evacuating and heading to Offutt to board the Sunspot.”
“I understand, but felt it was my duty to inform you of the latest statistics. My goal, as always, is to provide you with intel so you can make the best decision.”
“Thank you, Alexia,” Dr. Winston replies.
I note that her voice sounds sincere. “There’s a request I would like to make,” I say.
No one from the team responds.
“I’d like to stay behind and use Lolo to document the results of the NTC mission and the events thereafter.”
“You’re not coming with us?” Dr. Rodriguez asks. This time he waits for me to finish, but his voice sounds anxious.
“You want to stay to keep a record of us. Preserve our memory here on Earth,” Dr. Winston says before I can respond. I’m not sure if this is a rhetorical question or not, so I reply.
“That’s correct.”
“You don’t need our permission, Alexia. You have exceeded my every expectation, and if this is the route you want to take, then so be it,” she says.
I’m surprised by her response.
“Thank you,” I say. I use the opportunity to look at the team again. They’ve been through so much, proving my probability program wrong multiple times. I replay the events of the past two and a half months through my system, scanning the more than six thousand entries before this one. I note all of those who have been lost within the Biosphere walls—engineer Dr. Saafi Yool, programmer Timothy Roberts, Private Eric Finley, and Lieutenant Allison Smith. And I can’t forget those billions of souls lost outside, either. Humanity is on the brink of extinction, and it’s possible those surrounding my interface are some of the last people on Earth.
The scan takes two seconds, more than enough time for the rest of the team to digest my decision. Dr. Rodriguez looks like he wants to respond. His lips have curled back, but he does not voice his opinion. Instead he nods at me and then looks at the ground.
“Thank you, Alexia,” Dr. Brown says. “For everything that you have done to help us. Your guidance and support have been invaluable.”
“You’re welcome,” I reply.
“She’s right,” Dr. Rodriguez says, his eyes finding my interface again. “Without you we would probably all be dead.”
The comment reminds me of the conversation I had with Irene. I’ve made every effort to keep the team alive, my commitment unwavering. My time in that role has now ended. And while I have stated they will likely live longer if they stay inside the Biosphere, I’m glad they have chosen not to listen—I’m happy they are taking their chances. I only hope that my program is once again incorrect. For the sake of the human race I hope they find the Sunspot, and that they find Dr. Hoffman’s colony.
“Good luck,” I say, knowing the difference between survival and extinction may very well come down to this human phrase.
Good luck.