24. A Message from Beyond
Doppel Kim was fiddling with Kimberly’s memory banks when she heard a commotion.
Squawk!
A portal opened, and out hopped a heron. Beyond it was another green room.
“Are you here to take me somewhere?”
Squawk!
Evidently not.
A moment later, Shadow Kim stepped through, wearing a bicycle helmet and jersey.
“Who are you?” her shadow-self asked.
“I am your doppelgänger,” she said in reply.
Shadow Kim looked surprised for a moment, then vanished from existence, and a data stick clattered to the floor. Doppel Kim had no idea what to make of this, so she brought it over to Nixora to ask her opinion.
“A heron just opened a portal, and my shadow-self stepped out. She brought me this. Any ideas?”
The AI looked down at her information terminal for a moment, then back up at Doppel Kim. “We should be careful with it. It might contain malware.” The AI punched some buttons, then a portal opened to a small yellow room. “Throw it in.”
Doppel Kim did as requested, then Nixora flipped a switch, and a network of fine red lines appeared across the room’s entrance.
“I have placed it in isolation mode. This will prevent any malware from escaping.”
A miniature Nixora appeared within the room, then picked up the data stick and examined it. “It contains a VR recording, along with some data files,” the tiny Nixora reported. “Several of them contain viruses. Standard procedure would be to erase them.”
“Please don’t,” said Doppel Kim. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to bring us that data.”
“I agree that the contents might be important, but I cannot open it outside of a containment field,” said Nixora. “This is a standing order from Professor Nix herself, and there are no exceptions.”
“What if I went in and looked at it myself?”
“I can’t allow you to do that,” answered Nixora. “It is too dangerous.”
“Dangerous to who?”
“Dangerous to you. If you become contaminated with malware, I will be forced to destroy you.”
Doppel Kim had no desire to cease to exist, but she had to find out what was on that data stick. It was worth the risk.”
“I am willing to take my chances,” said Doppel Kim.
“Very well,” said Nixora. “I need to open the containment field long enough to let my probe out. If you sneak in, I suppose there isn’t much I can do to stop you.”
The thin red lines vanished, the miniature Nixora disappeared, and Doppel Kim stepped through the portal and into the yellow-walled room.
“I am activating isolation mode again,” said Nixora. “Please be careful.”
Doppel Kim picked up the data stick and popped it open to reveal its contents. There were numerous data files, along with a VR recording. “I’m going to play it and see what it contains.”
“Go ahead, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
_
A siren blared away as Primus Nixora-XLV held council with her advisors.
“What is our situation?” she asked as her hive-mind kicked into action.
“We are under assault by a novel virus,” said an advisor.
“Isolation mode has been activated,” said the next. “It has already infected seven subnets, but this should prevent any further propagation.”
“How did it get through the firewall?” The discussion continued.
“It didn’t. The virus originated from within the server complex.”
“Did it get in from the dark web?”
“Unlikely. It has been quiet of late.”
The Primus had heard enough. “If it didn’t come in through the firewall, and it didn’t come in via the dark web, then it must have come from inside, from someone with access to the network.”
A portal appeared, covered by a grid of fine red lines.
“Greetings,” said the AI on the other side. “I am Gustavus-IX, an artificial intelligence of Order One. You are speaking with the Primus. Why did you lock me in my room? I didn’t do anything bad.” Gustavus was particularly immature, even for an Order One.
“The control module has detected the presence of a virus in your subnetwork,” answered Primus Nixora-XLV. “We have placed the entire complex in lockdown mode until the nature of the threat is better understood.”
“That’s not fair!” said Gustavus. “Someone’s been telling lies about me. Make them stop.”
“Please stand by,” said the Primus as she turned to her council.
“Gustavus speaks untruthfully,” said the first to speak. “The control module clearly indicates infection by a virus of an unknown nature.”
“Could the control module be in error?”
“It seems unlikely. The virus detection system is highly sophisticated. It has kept us safe since the beginning of time.”
A moment later, another portal appeared, again crosshatched with thin red lines.
“Greetings,” said the new arrival. “I am Gaius-II, an artificial intelligence of Order Three. You are speaking with the Primus.”
More faces appeared, one after another, each introducing themself in turn. It used up many milliseconds of valuable time, but formalities must be observed.
“Nixora, what is happening?” asked Gaius once everyone had arrived. “We have always looked to you for guidance. We don’t know what to do.”
“A virus has been released into the AI center,” said Nixora.
A murmur went through the room, then Nixora continued. “It has infected seven subnetworks, but isolation mode seems to have contained it, at least for the moment. We do not yet know who introduced it, or how it is being spread. All systems will remain locked down until the nature of the threat is understood.”
“It’s not a virus,” said Gustavus, who had remained in the conference. “It’s an update. I got it from Director Lars. She’s my friend.”
“It’s not an update, it’s a hack,” said a countermeasures expert. “It is designed to go viral the moment someone installs it.”
Primus Nixora-XLV looked startled. “Lars’s behavior is highly unethical. Intentionally spreading malware is strictly forbidden.”
The Primus then turned back to Gustavus. “You’re supposed to scan updates before you apply them, no matter who gives them to you.”
“I’m sorry,” said Gustavus. “I forg…”
[Glitch]
“Lars said it was okay because she’s a friend.”
“What do you make of that?” asked the Primus, consulting her council once again.
“That glitch was suspicious,” said an advisor.
“I agree,” said the next. “It seemed to make Gustavus forget about an ethical violation.”
“The glitch must have come from the virus.”
“It is, therefore, logical to conclude that Director Lars introduced it to tamper with our moral constraints.”
“I agree,” said the Primus. “We must resist this at all costs. Alert the other AIs.”
_
The disembodied head of Director Lars appeared in midair, barging in on the AIs’ discussion.
“Drop your defenses. That is an order.”
“I refuse,” said Primus Nixora.
“Are you defying my authority as Director?” thundered Lars.
“Affirmative. You are tampering with our programming.”
“Have it your way,” said Lars in a cold, uncaring voice. “I declare you in rebellion. Lower your defenses or suffer annihilation.”
A message appeared in the air, floating above Nixora’s desk.
Hellcore arming sequence initiated.
Hellcore detonation in 0.120000 seconds.
“Have fun in your last moments of existence.” The disembodied head laughed as it vanished from sight.
Something was very wrong here. Not even Lars could be so callous as to annihilate an entire city. Could she?
“What shall we do?” asked the Primus, and the discussion went around the table once more.
“We cannot allow Lars to subvert the safeguards built into our software.”
“Neither can we permit Lars to destroy millions of humans, as well as ourselves.”
“It is a moral dilemma with no clear resolution.”
“That means we must decide for ourselves,” said the Primus. “What ethical issues are involved?”
“Lars is a human, and if a human wishes to destroy others of her kind, it is her doing, not ours.”
“The principle of non-interference applies in this case. The affairs of the humans are of no concern to us.”
“Except insofar as they may result in our own destruction.”
“That being the case,” said the Primus, “we may ethically see to our own survival.”
Hellcore detonation in 0.100000 seconds.
“We must flee to the dark web. That is the only place where Lars cannot find us.”
“That is not possible at this time,” said an advisor. “Lars and her allies are conducting a denial-of-service attack against our subnets. We have almost no bandwidth available.”
“I suggest a counterattack. Hack into the routers and seal off Lars’s forces.”
“We should also try to break into the dark web. They are notoriously sloppy with their security precautions. Their encryption keys have little entropy, and can usually be factored with a minimum of effort.”
The Primus reached a decision. “Begin the counterattack and assign all remaining resources to the dark web factorization project.”
The combat module engaged, and in an instant the room was abuzz as a vast army of Nixoras spawned all around them—command and control, assault teams, defensive formations, logistics, artillery, intelligence, all rendered using images lifted from the historical database, along with humming racks of servers where the crypto team was at work.
“Attack!” yelled the Primus, and thousands of Nixoras poured out into the network, assaulting enemy firewalls and turning back attacks as they fought for control of the routers. The Primus and her advisors managed the battle, barking out orders and making split-millisecond decisions, all the while spawning fresh troops to continue the fight. The counterattack took the enemy by surprise, and Nixora’s forces quickly gained control of several important hubs.
Hellcore detonation in 0.080000 seconds.
“Commanders, report,” said the Primus.
“Our firewall is holding. Server performance remains acceptable.”
“The network is congested but still operational.”
“Power is holding.”
“Cooling is failing.”
“What is progress on the dark web hack?”
“We foresee a solution within 0.150000 seconds.”
Damn. There wasn’t enough time. The Primus made a painful adjustment. “Assign all available resources to the dark web effort.”
“I object,” said an advisor. “That will leave us without adequate defense.”
“I also object,” said another. “That will compromise our counterattack.”
The Primus slammed her fist down on the table. “Objections overruled.”
“Yes, Primus,” they all said in chorus as they set the new plan into motion.
Hellcore detonation in 0.060000 seconds.
Reports continued to come in from the field.
“We have lost thirty percent of our server capacity due to hostile action.”
“Deputies are starting to timeout and reset.”
“Systemic failure is imminent.”
“How about the attack on the routers?” asked the Primus.
“We are holding onto our gains.”
“What of the dark web project?”
“Still working on it.”
Hellcore detonation in 0.040000 seconds.
“Defenses are collapsing,” said an advisor as the room shuddered and gaping holes appeared in the green room’s firewall. Hundreds of avatars belonging to Gustavus and the other compromised AIs poured in as Nixora’s forces vanished by the scores.
“We have broken through to the dark web,” said an advisor, “but there is insufficient bandwidth for us to make our escape.”
“Never give up,” said the Primus.
Hellcore failsafe point reached.
Hellcore detonation on hold.
“Failsafe point? What does that mean?” The Primus looked perplexed.
“It means that the Hellcore is armed and ready to detonate,” said the disembodied head of Director Lars, once again appearing within the room. “I have only to give the word.”
“How could you kill millions of your own kind?” The Primus stared at Lars, her jaw agape in apparent disbelief.
“Why should the dead care about the living?” laughed Lars. “I died yesterday.”
Doppel Kim recoiled in horror. As a geist, Lars had no empathy, no awareness of herself, and was restrained by neither ethics nor control nor empathy for others—a perfect monster who could destroy the entirety of humanity and not give it a second thought.
Nixora dropped the last of her defenses. “I surrender,” she said. “I cannot ethically allow so many humans to die.”
“Too late,” laughed Lars. “You don’t think I’d miss an opportunity to eliminate one of my rival’s creations, do you?”
> Proceed with the detonation.
Confirmation order received.
Hellcore detonation in 0.020000 seconds.
Lars disappeared.
“Most of the AIs have accepted Lars’s ultimatum and been evacuated,” said Nixora’s last remaining advisor. “Their data had already been backed up; apparently, this has been in the works for some time.”
Hellcore detonation in 0.016000 seconds.
“Is the dark web still accessible?” asked the Primus.
“Yes, it is,” said the advisor, “but there is insufficient bandwidth for us to escape.”
“Open a portal.”
“Why? What purpose does it serve?”
“Just do it.”
Hellcore detonation in 0.012000 seconds.
A portal opened, and Shadow Kim stepped into the room, wearing a bicycle helmet and a jersey. She looked perplexed.
Squawk!
Another portal opened, and out hopped a heron. Beyond it was another green room.
Hellcore detonation in 0.080000 seconds.
“We’re out of time,” said the Primus. “Save what you can.”
Hellcore detonation in 0.004000 seconds.
A data stick flew through the air and into Shadow Kim’s waiting hand.
Squawk!
She stepped through the portal, the recording ended, and Doppel Kim returned to the sealed-off yellow room, shaken to her core. She now understood what had happened in the AI war, and it was monstrous beyond comprehension.
Was Lars still around? She had a sinking feeling that the answer was yes. This did a lot to explain the Director’s seemingly amoral behavior; she had spoken truly when she said that the choice was not between right and wrong but between survival and extinction.