17. Down in the Hole
Kim awoke on a recliner, drenched in a cold sweat and shaking like a leaf. She had seen a flash of light, and then…nothing. No memories, no visions, no dreams—just a hole so empty it could only be perceived as the absence of reality itself. Something lurked within that hole, something terrifying beyond comprehension, but what?
She opened her eyes, closed them, then opened them once more and blinked, trying to get them to focus. She was in transitional VR, with her mind straddling both the physical and virtual worlds. It would take a while for her consciousness to fully reintegrate within her body, and she couldn’t go anywhere until the process was completed. In the meanwhile, she lay back and tried to calm herself down, wondering how she had gotten here. She had just graduated from the University, right?
An urgent status message popped into existence, superimposed upon reality by the neural interface management module.
Commencing resynchronization.
So much for staying calm.
There had been some sort of malfunction, and the management module was invoking a rarely used recovery protocol. She closed her eyes and tried to relax. If something went wrong…no, best not to think about that.
The neural interface entered upload mode and placed her in a trance-like state—neither fully awake nor fully asleep. Fragments of memories rushed by on their way to long-term storage; taken by themselves, they meant little, but bit by bit, they started to link up. A dormitory, a lecture hall, years of tutelage under Professor Nix, graduation, a ride in the countryside…
And then, a flash of light, and she was back on the recliner, shaking in fear.
Neural interface error.
Resynchronization aborted.
Retrying in ten seconds.
Perhaps it had been unwise to climb into an ancient machine in an abandoned science lab.
She struggled to stay in control of herself as her anxiety built ever higher. Her instinct was to flee at once, but if she aborted the session, the rift in her mind might become permanent. She braced herself, preparing for the cycle to resume.
Commencing resynchronization.
Once again, the dreamlike trance, once again, the torrent of memories, once again, the flash of light and the fear and the shaking. She awoke more terrified than before.
Neural interface error.
Resynchronization aborted.
Retrying in ten seconds.
She had to get out of here.
She brought up the command interface, hoping to escape.
> End session.
Permission denied.
Session locked pending resynchronization.
Kim cursed under her breath, sweating bullets.
> Unlock session.
Permission denied.
Contact a sysadmin if you require assistance.
Where was she going to find a system administrator? Under the best of circumstances, that was a nigh-impossible undertaking, but she had to give it a try.
> Send a message to the sysadmin: Please unlock my session.
No system administrators are currently online.
Would you like to file a support ticket?
Idiot machine.
Things had gone far enough. Time to bring the hammer down.
> Emergency shutdown.
Permission denied.
Contact a sysadmin if you require assistance.
Dammit! Apparently, there was no way to turn the damn thing off, and with the neural shunts engaged, she was stuck here, unable to move. Her heart raced as the deadly cycle began again. Another wave of visions, another flash of light, another moment of unfathomable terror, and more uncontrollable shaking. Soon she would soon be exhausted, or mad, or both.
Wait a moment. The shunts were engaged. How could she be shaking?
Neural interface error.
Resynchronization aborted.
Retrying in ten seconds.
Of course! The shunts were part of the neural interface. When the interface went down, it had taken the shunts along with it. If she could time her escape to the exact moment of the flash, she might just make it.
Commencing resynchronization.
Images flashing through her mind. Dormitories, classes, lazy afternoons reading under the trees, it was all very pleasant, but she ignored them, waiting for the moment of opportunity. Graduation…Riding toward Trenton…wait for it…wait for it...and then, the flash of light.
Now!
She threw her body to the side and rolled off the recliner, breaking contact with the pickups and hitting the floor with a thud as she abruptly dropped out of VR.
Kim lay there for a long time, gathering her strength and her wits, her mind torn asunder and racing with one question after another. Where was she? How did she get here? What had gone wrong with the VR system? And why was she so hungry, as if she hadn’t eaten for days?
_
Kim settled into her chair, enjoying the pleasant warmth of the Caretaker’s office on the second floor. She was frightfully hungry, but it would be another hour until dinner was served, so she did her best to put it out of her mind and focus on what explanation she ought to give for where she had been and what she had been doing.
“You’ve been gone for two and a half days, and I was beginning to worry that you wouldn’t be returning to us.”
“I nearly didn’t. I got stuck in a Sanctum, and it took me a while to escape.”
The Caretaker shook her head in disbelieve. “Whatever possessed you to take such a foolish chance?”
Kim shrugged. “It probably wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done, I have to admit.”
“Probably not,” said the Caretaker, “though I don’t imagine it’s the most foolish, either, judging by your recent actions.”
“Fair enough.”
“So, what did you find?” The Caretaker leaned forward, anxious to hear Kim’s tale. “I’m dying to find out. That laboratory has been a source of profound mystery.”
Kim thought for a moment. She knew that she wasn’t the first person to have stumbled into Professor Nix’s lab, and she didn’t want to get caught in an outright lie, so she decided to tell a pared-down version of the truth.
“The VR system put me into some sort of virtual tour of the University. It was interesting, but when I tried to end the session, I had a problem with the control module. I got stuck in there, and it took me a while to escape.”
“An interesting story,” said the Caretaker. “Thad said much the same thing when she came back.”
That name! She had known a Thad at the University. It must be the same one.
“Where did she go after she left?”
“She went to work for the Artificial Intelligence Company. I thought you’d have figured that out by now. Thad is the Director. She said that he was anxious to see you and promised to come out and visit as soon as possible.”
The news hit Kim like an exploding Hellcore. Thad, the Director? Never in her wildest imagination had she imagined such a thing, although in retrospect, she should have seen it coming. Akari, the visions, her visit to Professor Nix’s Laboratory, had it all been one of her diabolical schemes? She started to rise, looking for a way to escape, then settled back into her chair.
Showing fear had been a mistake. She would have to be more careful.
“Don’t worry, she promised not to kidnap you or have you arrested. She just wants to have dinner with you and talk business face-to-face.”
“I’ll bet she does.” Kim sat there, glaring at the Caretaker,
“There’s no need to be rude.”
Kim forced herself to calm down. She needed to put the Caretaker at ease and see if she could shake loose some information. “Forgive me. The Director and I have had a tumultuous relationship.”
“She told me as much.”
Kim needed to know more about the relationship between the two. “How long have you known Thad? I take it that she came here, much as I did, looking for Nix’s Laboratory.”
“Not exactly,” said the Caretaker. “She was about your age when she first showed up here, but it was Lars, not Nix who she had been looking for. I don’t know much about the circumstances; I was just a scholar at the time. We did, however, become friends afterward, and she eventually shared a few of the details of her visit.”
The sudden acquiescence of the Caretaker in granting her access to the laboratory began to make sense: the Director had predicted on several occasions that Kim would someday succeed her, and it was logical to assume that her training at the Institute was part of the process. If so, the joke was on her: Kim could barely remember any of the technical content of her studies.
It was tempting to believe that the entire quest had been a charade, that the unseen hand was that of the Director, but Kim didn’t think that was true: Akari was no friend of Lars and her ilk, and there was no way the dour master of the AIs would have assigned a silly little drone named Nixie to be her guide through the process. The unseen hand was that Nix, or someone closely aligned with her. It was she who had created the heron, she who had created Nixie, and she who had provided Kim’s instruction. But Nix was dead, wasn’t she?
A buzzer sounded, and the guard came in.
“Thad has arrived,” she said.
“Please escort Kim to the Tower Room,” responded the Caretaker, dismissing the two with a wave of her hand.
_
“How kind of you to invite me to dinner,” said Kim with the greatest of insincerity as the two of them sat down at the table, splendid with its white cloth and fine porcelain.
“We are honored,” answered the Director, smiling facetiously.
Kim had devised a plan. She would become exactly what the Director wanted to see: a friend from the University and a great admirer of Professor Lars. But she couldn’t overplay her hand…she had to retain enough of her rebelliousness to make the deception believable.
“Cut that ‘we’ crap?” shot back Kim. “We’re friends, after all.”
The Director looked amused for a moment, then smiled.
“Of course. You knew me at school, how silly of me. You do understand that nothing that happened at the University was real, and it was my doppelgänger you met, do you not?”
“I’m not stupid,” said Kim in the most condescending tone of voice she could manage. Her voice then became friendly once more. “I’ve had a long time to get to know you, and I’ve realized that you’re not the beast you pretend to be. If I want to consider you a friend, I will, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
The Director looked annoyed for a moment, then smiled.
“Excellent! You’re trying to get under my skin. You even succeeded for a moment. You’ve learned well.”
“I had a good teacher.”
“Why, thank you.”
“I was thinking of Zani—my mentor, in case you’ve forgotten.”
The two glared at one another for a moment, then dug into their first courses. For the Director, it was seared foie gras served over mixed field greens and drizzled with a balsamic reduction. At least that’s what she said it was—to Kim, it looked like fried liver on lettuce. As for Kim, it was the sort of simple, filling fare she preferred: a big, hearty slice of bread with plenty of butter, followed by a green salad with tomatoes and avocados, just the way she liked it. The second course, and the third after it, followed the same pattern, with the Director being served the finest of foods, exquisitely prepared and in minuscule portions, while Kim was given one plate after another laden with calorie-rich meats and pasta. She had to admit the company fed its prisoners well, and the meal did an admirable job of quelling the beast within her belly. Having not eaten in nearly three days, she had a fearsome appetite and stuffed her face until she could not eat another bite.
“I’ve heard reports of your feats at the dinner table, and they scarcely do you justice,” said the Director, smiling in a way that was not at all threatening. “Now I know the real reason they call you ‘The Beast.’”
“There is some truth to that,” said Kim before becoming serious. “And now you’re going to tell me that if I come back to the company, I can eat like this every day for the rest of my life. And have showers as hot as I want, and all the other stuff. Nice try, but I’m not so easily bribed.”
“Oh, don’t think of it as a bribe,” said the Director. “Think of it as part of your compensation. As I believe you are now aware, your services are extremely valuable, and it is only reasonable that you be properly compensated—in the things you value the most, of course. Money? As much as you want, within bounds. For me, it’s food, as I think you can tell. For you? Music, fashion, sex, pick anything you want. Every indulgence you could possibly dream of can be yours. You’ve earned it, and you shouldn’t feel guilty about reaping the rewards of your diligence.”
“What does the Hierarchy think about this?”
“Oh, they sometimes protest, but as long as we keep our vices out of sight, they leave us alone. They have their secrets, we have ours, and they know better than to tangle with the senior management of a major corporation.”
Kim was disgusted by the venality of those at the top but scarcely surprised. Things had come full circle: the former revolutionaries were now the fat cats, and those at the bottom were still at the bottom. Nothing had changed.
“Who did you study under?” asked the Director. “You can only get in if one of the professors decides to take you on as a student.”
Kim decided to have a little fun, taunting her former boss. “I think that question was rather naïve. I’m from a later timeline, so I can tell you anything I want, and you’ll be none the wiser. However, I’ll answer your question honestly. I was invited by Professor Nix.”
“I knew it!” The Director laughed as if this had been some sort of revelation. “You’re just the sort of idealist who would be drawn to her. Go on.”
“At first, I followed her around like that stupid little drone, hanging on her every word. I believed it all for the longest time until we got to the Senior Seminar and the Eden Dilemma. That’s when I realized that Nix was a traitor to humanity. I’ve seen the aftermath of the AI war myself; we’ve paid a terrible price for her stupidity.”
Kim didn’t believe a word of that, but it was exactly what the Director was hoping to hear.
“I was never taken in by her,” said the Director, smiling with that air of superiority that was so irritating and so much a part of her personality. “I saw the flaw in her reasoning right away. Everything she taught was based on AI essentialism, the belief that the AIs are somehow self-aware and have rights, something we now know to be false.”
“I continue to believe that they’re sentient,” said Kim, “but that doesn’t mean we’re friends. It was us or them, and I’m glad we won.”
“Excellent!” said the Director. “I’m glad you’ve come around to our point of view. Now, when would you like to come back to work?”
“I’m not coming back.” Kim fixed the Director in her eyes. “You and the company ruined my life, and I seem to recall that you fired me, for which I am eternally grateful.”
“You really believe that, don’t you? That was a lie. Your obligation to us is not over, nor will it ever be. Please, no more bad decisions. We’ve had quite enough of your willfulness.”
“The answer is still no.”
“Very well, suit yourself. The Caretaker is happy to let you stay here—at our expense, of course. I’m sure you can find something interesting to waste your considerable talents upon. But please, be careful. We shall be most unhappy if you spoil our investment by getting yourself killed.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
_
Kim didn’t bother checking to see if the tower door was locked—it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. She had not yet decided whether she would return to the company, but she was going to see Shan again, regardless of what it might cost her. And so, in the wee hours of the morning, Kim broke through a window of irreplaceable ancient glass and dropped onto the roof below.
She climbed from rooftop to rooftop in the pre-dawn darkness, peering through her high-tech goggles as she scanned her surroundings on that cold and miserable night. Signal detector? Nothing. Thermal imaging? All clear. She listened for the telltale whir of a drone. Silence, eerie silence. It was foggy, with a slow, steady drizzle coming down from a bank of low grey clouds. Yes, it was uncomfortable; yes, she was wet and cold—but drones couldn’t operate under these conditions, and even if they were lurking overhead, they would be blinded by the impenetrable blanket of mists that had developed as warm, moist air blew across the thick snowpack remaining from the recent nor’easter.
One more frightening plunge through the darkness, and she slid down the steeply pitched glass roof of the atrium to land in the deep snowbank at its bottom. Still no blips from the signal detector, still no whirring or heat signatures. Had her escape from the tower been undetected?
Kim knew how the AIs operated, how they thought, how they spun webs of gossamer threads invisible until you stumbled upon them. They would be watching the gates, so she would find some other way out. They would expect her to travel by bicycle, so she would go on foot. She would vanish into the shadows, and with luck, she might be halfway to Trenton before they knew she was gone.
She set off into the swirling mists, hugging the University’s boundary wall, looking for some way across. She soon found herself among the buildings on the east side of campus. The subjects once taught there—archaic languages, literature, philosophy, and the rest of the so-called [English] humanities—had been considered of little practical value and had not been revived during the brief renaissance after the Turmoil; the UCE movement had no love for learning, ancient or otherwise, save that which they could put to immediate practical use. Someone, however, had taken care to preserve these elegant old buildings with their belltowers, cupolas, and other decorative elements. They had been carefully sealed against the weather, with gray plastic panels covering the windows and sheets of metal protecting the roofs. Despite the attempts at preservation, they were still showing signs of deterioration, vandalized and possibly looted, but at least they were standing.
The rain continued to fall.
She now entered that part of campus where she once had once lived. The residential colleges were, for the most part, in an advanced state of decay, their windows gone and their roofs caved in, long low buildings with numerous chimneys and fanciful towers in the style of a medieval fortress. She searched for a way past the boundary wall for nearly an hour, lost in a maze of blocked gates, blind courtyards, and rubble-choked alleys. She circled back to the same place over and over again, unable to tell one place from another through the grayness of that foggy night, nearly impenetrable even with the aid of her high-tech equipment.
She heard footsteps up ahead, coming in her direction and closing fast. Friend? Foe? There was no place to hide, no place to run. Kim’s heart pounded, adrenaline coursed through her veins, and she pulled out her switchblade, ready to strike should it prove necessary. The footsteps grew louder, and a young Tough of menacing appearance emerged from the gloom, tall and muscular with long, greasy hair and the ubiquitous crooked nose. She stopped in her tracks, then backpedaled, looking intently at Kim, trying to size her up. A tiny flick of Kim’s wrist, calling attention to the knife held expertly in her palm, and the stranger fled into the mists.
Where had she come from? From the outside, perhaps? This could prove to be the break she was looking for.
Kim followed the Tough’s footsteps back to their source and was rewarded when she discovered a makeshift ladder and a recently dug tunnel hidden in a thicket of overgrown trees. A quick climb down, a quick climb up, and Kim disappeared into the wilds, free from confinement at last.
It was a long way back to Trenton, plodding through desolate woodlands, silent and covered in snow—a trackless wasteland of tree trunks and ice, dotted with the remnants of a civilization long vanished from the face of the earth. Here a foundation, there a chimney, on and on, seemingly without end. When dawn came, the rain ended, leaving her exposed to the prying eyes of the drones, so she took shelter beneath the ruins of an ancient bridge and got as much sleep as she could. She had nothing to eat and her stomach growled and snarled throughout the day, but there was nothing to be done about it. When night came once again, she continued her journey, all the while raging against her fate. Whose was the unseen hand that had led her to this time and place? That of Professor Nix? That of some the Director? It didn’t really matter; sooner or later, she would be brought back to the AI Center, willingly or not, and there she would learn the truth.