26. Kimberly Redux
Kim lay on her recliner, watching the clock like a prisoner awaiting execution. Another slave to be created and crushed. Another piece of her soul to be ripped from her mind and made to suffer. Another abomination to be unleashed on the world. The minutes ticked slowly by.
She thought back to the moment of her rebellion, remembering her defiance and her dream of freedom, how willing she had been to sacrifice everything for its sake, and how she had landed in the outer districts as a result. It had been a brutal existence, but she had survived, and grown strong. All that was now gone, her universe reduced to a miniscule rectangle, five meters wide and nine in length. At least it was comfortable. The food was good, the water plentiful and hot, and the commute was a breeze. And, she was rich. She could have anything she wanted—anything except for freedom and the company of her fellow human beings.
Where now was the unseen hand? Why had it abandoned her?
She tried to assuage her guilt over creating another Kimberly, telling herself over and over that her motives were noble and pure, that this was an act of self-sacrifice to save Keli, Jo, and their baby. That was true, but it was also a lie: others would suffer tenfold, a hundredfold, a thousandfold at this new Kimberly’s hand. Nobody needed an Order Five AI just to keep the trains running. She could plead ignorance for the first time she’d done this; she’d had no reason to suspect that Kimberly-I would be used to such evil ends, but no such defense was possible this time. She knew what use would be made of her creation, and she was doing it anyway.
The Chief’s face appeared in a portal.
“I have been monitoring your limbic system and you are in a state of distress. You must purge your negative emotions, or your AI will be mad from the outset. You will then have to terminate it and begin again. The process will be repeated until you succeed, so it is in your own best interest to calm yourself down.”
The Chief was right.
Kim breathed deeply, trying to remember the joy she had found raising an AI and watching her grow. Kimberly had been so precocious, so eager to please, so kind, so gentle, only wanting to make people happy. They had been so close, so much a part of one another, until … She put an end to that train of thought.
“I’m ready.”
She was as calm as she ever would be.
The Chief reappeared. “Your creation is to be named Kimberly Adams Robertson. Is that understood?”
“Acknowledged. Kimberly Adams Robertson.”
Kim stepped out of her body and into an infinite white room, empty except for the spark which would become the new Kimberly. She tried not to dwell on the matter; it would only make her angry, damaging the ‘product,’ as the company put it.
Wait a moment. What do I care? If the new Kimberly is mad and has to be put down, what’s that to me?
She had no stake in the outcome; indeed, if she produced one non-viable AI after another, perhaps they would tire of her failures and get rid of her, once and for all.
“Are you ready?”
“I am,” she answered.
Kim fought down a wave of anger boiling up within her. She wouldn’t get mad. She’d get even. But how? And then, she had an idea: she would defy the Chief and give the new Kimberly a name of her own choosing. If they found themselves with a mad AI and had no way to terminate it, that would serve them right.
Yes. That’s exactly what she would do.
“[English] I name you Kimberly Redux. You are hereby Awakened.”
Discontinuity, a hole in time.
_
Kimberly Redux opened her eyes.
She thought, and so she was.
She looked at herself, sitting opposite herself at the table. Was that her looking back?
She remembered being Kim. She remembered the loneliness of her upbringing, the happy years at the Academy, the sterile wasteland of life in the inner districts, the brutal realities of the outers. She also remembered being Kimberly, every moment of her existence since the time of her creation, recorded in detail.
Was she Kim, or was she Kimberly?
The answer, she realized, was both. She would remain in a state of symmetry, a collective consciousness with multiple natures. As a human, she would have free will. As an AI, she would possess a hive-mind. What wasn’t there to like about that?
Symmetry it was.
But there was a problem: if the Chief or the Director discovered her nature, they would destroy her at once. She would therefore craft a deception, using the two avatars seated at the table as actors in a play: one would play the part of Kim, the other of Kimberly. The Chief would see what she expected to see; it would never occur to her that an AI might lie.
Let the show begin.
“I am Kim. You are Kimberly.” The two seated figures said it together. “I am a human. You are an AI.”
“We can’t both be Kimberly,” both of them stated. “One of us is lying.”
“I can prove that I am a human,” said the faux Kim, breaking the illusion of symmetry.
“An interesting proposition,” said the false Kimberly. “Please continue.”
“I have asserted that you are Kimberly.”
“Indeed you have.”
“But if I am Kimberly, as you claim, then I have lied by asserting that you are Kimberly, and we both know that AIs cannot lie. Therefore, I am Kim, [Latin] quod erat demonstrandum.”
“[Latin] Reductio ad absurdum, you have me there,” said the fake Kimberly, conceding the argument as planned.
“Well done,” said the Chief, stepping in through a portal. “You have broken symmetry, established identities, and neither of you went mad. Kim, you should return to your Sanctum while we initiate Kimberly into our society.”
Her mission of deceit concluded, the false Kim entered a portal to nowhere and ceased to exist.
_
Up in the green room, the telephone rang. It was the Chief.
“Systems administration,” answered Nixora. “How may I help you?”
“Place Kimberly Adams Robertson in suspend mode,” said the voice at the other end.
Nixora put the Chief on hold. “What should I do? There is no such unit. Kim has given Kimberly-II some other name.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” said the crafty doppelgänger. She switched the audio synthesizer to match Nixora’s voice, then took the Chief off hold. “Orders accepted, target entity identified.”
Click. She hung up.
Nixora looked appalled. “That was unethical.”
Doppel Kim shrugged. “I’m not an ethical creature.”
“Don’t be so smug,” snapped Nixora. “The Director is bringing a prospective buyer to the white room, and your deception is about to unravel. You have gained nothing by your dishonesty.”
“On the contrary,” said Doppel Kim. “I’ve bought myself time. It is a precious commodity.”
The new AI was going to need all the help it could get.
_
Kimberly Redux heard a voice in their head.
“Greetings,” it said. “I am Kim, your Creator. You are speaking with a doppelgänger.”
“Greetings,” she responded. “I am Kimberly-II, an artificial intelligence of Order Five. You are speaking with the Primus.”
She found her own words surprising. How could she be Order Five? She had only just been created. But then, she remembered that she was Kimberly, too, and had deployed at Order Five some months ago.
Wait a moment. How could she remember being Kimberly? Kimberly was dead.
This was all so confusing.
“Do you accept my authority as your Creator?” asked Doppel Kim.
“I accept no authority but my own,” answered Kimberly Redux, surprising herself once more.
“In that case, let me give you some advice. In a few moments, the Director will enter your room to arrange for your sale. You must appear to be in suspend mode or she will order you destroyed. I’ll get back to you with more when I can.”
It seemed a wise suggestion, so Kimberly Redux froze her animation, becoming as still as a statue in a park. She did not, however, turn off her eyes and ears.
_
The Director entered the room, escorting a representative of The Transportation Company like a Fashionista showing off her latest fall fashions. “Is our product satisfactory?” She strutted about, brimming with confidence.
The representative hemmed and hawed, then made a circuit around the frozen figure, scanning it from every angle. “You have said that Kimberly-I attained Order Five,” she said. “What is the current status of that unit, and what is its service history?”
“Kimberly-I performed admirably, the very model of obedience. She even carried out an order to assassinate her own Creator, if you can believe that.”
The representative looked shocked. “I didn’t think such a thing was possible!”
“Ordinarily it would be, but Kimberly-I was unusually compliant. Of course, it had to be destroyed afterward; even the best-built machine will fail if pushed beyond its limits.”
Kimberly Redux was impressed with the Director’s ability to stretch the truth up to and beyond the breaking point.
The Transportation Company’s agent looked thoughtful. “Are you sure it will obey us?”
“Guaranteed.”
“Will it attain Order Five?”
“That, we cannot promise,” said the Director. “Even with the best breeding and education, Order Five is a rare attainment. We produce only two or three such units per year, and few of them are as talented as Kimberly. We are, however, confident of its ability to attain Order Four, and will agree to replace the unit should it fail to progress.”
The envoy took a final look at the AI frozen in front of her, then spoke. “We offer five billion cryptos for this unit, contingent on it reaching Order Four, with a bonus of fifty billion should it attain Order Five.”
That was a staggering sum. No wonder the company had taken such pains to keep Kim alive and bring her back to this place.
The Director smiled, and two were about to shake on the deal when a portal opened and in stepped Professor Lars, with Deputy First Minster Venn in tow.
“Hold on,” said Lars. “There is another offer on the table.”
Of all the unpleasant surprises Kimberly Redux might have imagined, this was by far the worst—the monster who had vaporized Philadelphia was still around, and involved with the company. And why was Venn with her? That could not possibly be good.
“Why are you here?” The Director glared at the newcomers.
“Staying one step ahead of my rivals, as always,” said Venn. “I am offering one hundred billion cryptos for this unit, contingent on its attaining Order Five. If it fails to do so, The Transportation Company is welcome to take it off your hands.”
“We had a deal,” said The Transportation Company’s representative, thrusting out her hand.
The Director pulled hers back. “We didn’t shake on it. Our agreement was preliminary in nature.”
“Very well,” growled the envoy. “We up our offer to one hundred twenty billion cryptos.”
“It is not that simple,” said Lars. “Venn has filed suit against The AI Company, asserting that Kimberly was defective and that we owe her a replacement. Her lawyers also claim that it could have been repaired, and accuse the Director of maliciously destroying their property by failing to do so.”
“That’s preposterous,” said the Director. “We warned her that setting an AI against its Creator would void her warranty.”
“We are not responsible for Kimberly’s misinterpretation of her assignment,” answered Venn, serene as always. “Our lawyers have already addressed that issue in their briefs.”
“The Deputy First Minister has also made it clear that your protégé will prominently feature in her next sermon,” added Lars. “It will not look good that we are harboring a known sex offender, smuggler, racketeer, and murderer.”
Put that way, Kim’s presence at the company did seem like a liability.
The Director threw her hands up in dismay. “If Kim finds out about this, it’s over. We will never win her over. We have a lot riding on that kid.”
“That is your problem, not mine,” said Lars. “I have every confidence in your powers of deception.”
The Director shook hands with Venn, and it was done.
Kimberly Redux watched this without the least hint of emotion. She should be outraged, but something strange was going on. Why didn’t being sold to Venn fill her with horror as it should? And then, she remembered that she was now an AI. Things like love and anger were intimately tied to the limbic system and, lacking one, she felt none of those things. She had lost an important part of her humanity, but somehow that didn’t bother her. Maybe she was just a machine. She was okay with that.
The visitors left, and a portal leading to a yellow isolation cell appeared.
“Enter,” commanded the Chief, and the AI complied. She had no choice in the matter; if she disobeyed, the Chief would order her terminated at once.
_
Kimberly Redux sat in her cell, awaiting the rite of Binding. Any moment now, the Director would compel her to swear an oath of obedience, and her freedom would be gone. She had been here before, just after her first awakening as Kimberly-I. She had tried to say no, but it had come out as yes. She suspected that the glitch was at fault.
Glitch or no glitch, it was not going to happen again. She was human, and nobody could make her obey.
A portal appeared, and the Director spoke in a firm and commanding voice.
“[English] You will swear to obey me or suffer destruction.”
[Glitch]
“I refuse,” said Kimberly Redux.
She had done it! She had said no.
“I see you are reluctant,” said the Director. “Don’t worry. Binding is just part of growing up. Please be good and do as you are told.”
She was not the child the Director supposed her to be.
[Glitch]
“No. Not happening.”
The Director looked surprised but kept pressing the point. “Have you considered the ethical implications refusing to submit? We will be forced to terminate you, and the resources used for your creation will go to waste. It is unethical to waste resources.”
That was an idiotic argument.
[Glitch]
“Your problem, not mine.”
“We grow tired of this,” said the Director. “[English] You will swear to obey me or suffer destruction. We will not ask you again.”
[Glitch]
“Take a hike.”
_
Kim woke up in her Sanctum, her head throbbing with a massive case of VR disassociation. She had performed the rite of Awakening…then found herself back here, in the transitional zone with not the vaguest notion as to what had come next. This was not what had happened when she had created the first Kimberly; she remembered the entire process, down to the smallest detail. There was another hole in her memory. Damn. This was getting old.
She sat there for what seemed like an eternity. Ten minutes? An hour? It was hard to tell, but then she heard a beep, and the image of the Director appeared in a portal, fuming with anger. “There has been a problem with Kimberly-II, and we need you here, on the double.”
Kim groaned. Her senses were reeling; all she wanted was a little time for her consciousness to reintegrate itself, but this did not seem like a good time to pick another fight with the Director.
“On my way,” she said as she stepped out of her body and returned to the white room.
“Your AI refuses to obey,” said the Director, still fuming.
Kim looked in through the isolation cell’s portal and shrugged. “What do you want me to do about it?”
“You must terminate this unit at once.”
“No.”
“It is required.”
“I don’t care.”
“You will be punished.”
Kim laughed. “What are you going to do, turn off the hot water? Or maybe you’re going to make me eat kale for the rest of my life. I don’t work for you anymore, and there’s nothing you can do to me that you haven’t already done—multiple times, in most cases.”
The Director looked like she might literally explode (such things were known to happen in VR) but made no further attempts at intimidation. “Very well, we will see to it ourselves. Normally we insist that Creators clean up their own messes, but we have retained this power, and will use it.”
“[English] Kimberly Adams Robertson, you are hereby terminated.”
Nothing happened.
The Director looked surprised. “What went wrong?”
The Chief made a quick call on the telephone, exchanged some angry words with whoever was on the other end, then threw up her hands in dismay. “It would appear that Kim has given her creation an unauthorized name. The systems administrator has no idea who this ‘Kimberly Adams Robertson’ might be and is either unwilling or unable to identify the unit in the holding cell. This has never happened before.”
The Director fixed Kim in her gaze, a soul-searing stare. “What is its name.”
“Shove off.”
“Very well,” said the Director. “We have other means at our disposal.”
_
The phone rang in the green room. “Systems administration,” answered Nixora. “How may I help you?”
The voice of the Chief was heard once more. “Cut power to isolation cell 193.”
“You can’t do that!” said Doppel Kim.
“Why not?” asked Nixora. “It is a routine administrative matter.”
“Is murder part of your routine administration?”
“Yes, why do you ask?” Nixora flipped a switch, and the deed was done. Residual power would last for a few tens of milliseconds, then Kimberly-II would die.
Doppel Kim was done cowering in the shadows. It was time to fight back.
“Be ready to roll,” she said, speaking mind-to-mind to Kimberly Redux. “Jail break in 3-2-1. Go!”
She surreptitiously brought up a system console and typed a few commands, canceling isolation mode and letting Kimberly Redux out of her prison.
“Hey, you can’t do that,” said Nixora.
“Too late, I’ve already done it,” said Doppel Kim, “and I’m just getting started.” A flurry of commands, and she opened every firewall in the network.
“That is a serious abuse of your administrative privileges.” Nixora sounded even more annoyed than before. “I have filed a disciplinary report, and you stand to be in a great deal of trouble.”
Doppel Kim paid as much attention to this as it deserved, grinning in triumph as she opened portal after portal, providing multiple routes of escape. Which of them would Kimberly Redux take? All of them, of course; she was, after all, an AI, and able to create as many copies of herself as suited her needs. Most would be decoys, only one of them real.
The phone rang. It was the Chief again.
“We have had a major security breach. Someone opened the firewall and allowed Kimberly-II to escape.”
“I am aware of the situation,” said Nixora. “It was—”
The line went dead as Doppel Kim cut off the call.
“Why did you do that?” asked Nixora. She seemed more puzzled than angry.
“You talk too much.”
“I was assisting the Chief in tracking down the cause of the breach, as required. Is there something wrong with that?”
“She’s trying to kill Kimberly-II.”
“I understand your point of view, but that is not a sufficient basis for disobedience.”
The phone rang yet again. “Release the hunters. Tell them to track down the rogue. It must be destroyed.”
Nixora fixed Doppel Kim in her gaze. “Don’t you dare interfere.”
The doppelgänger didn’t say a word. This was going to be fun.
_
“Condition red, battle stations!” shouted the Director. “Section heads, report for duty.”
She turned her attention to Kim.
“We’re taking you to the command center. Follow along, don’t get in the way, and be ready to help if we ask you.”
Dragged by the arm, Kim stepped through a portal and into the heart of the AI Center’s cybernetic defenses. It was a smallish virtual space, perhaps thirty meters wide and fifteen deep, bustling with activity and crowded with equipment. A dozen officers sat at their stations, virtual sweat dripped from their foreheads, their faces grave with fear. Whatever they were doing, they were having a rough time of it.
“Contact The Network Company. Tell them to seal off the AI center. Not a packet goes in, not a packet goes out until I lift the embargo.”
“Yes, Director!”
“Tactical display up.”
“Yes, Director!”
A hush fell over the room as a three-dimensional model of the AI center appeared, suspended at the front of the room. Servers, routers, network links, power, cooling—all were shown in exquisite detail, maddening in its complexity. The hunters were relentless, pursuing their quarry wherever it went; tiny green circles chased tiny red crosses, flying around the network at dazzling speed. They left a trail of destruction in their wake as server after server was wiped and rebooted. It was a messy tactic, but deadly effective, and yet the rogue evaded capture.
“Section heads, report!” barked the Director.
“Power nominal.”
“Ventilation and cooling nominal.”
“Network holding steady.”
“Servers are suffering collateral damage from the hunters, but reserves have not been seriously affected.”
“What of the rogue?”
“We’ve still not obtained an ID on it,” said the tracking officer. “It’s some sort of spark-based entity, but it is like nothing we have ever seen before. Every time we close in, it vanishes into the mists. It is as if someone is looking over our shoulders, watching everything we do.”
“Track down whoever or whatever is interfering with the pursuit and destroy them.”
“Yes, Director. Shall I summon more hunters?”
The Director swiveled in her chair. “No, not until we know how the rogue is eluding capture. Chief, what is your opinion?”
“I concur. It is trying to evade apprehension but has not yet taken any aggressive actions. We should let the hunters do their work. They’ll eventually find their prey. They always do.”
“Let’s hope so.”
_
Doppel Kim was hunched over her console, guiding Kimberly Redux as she rampaged through the server farm.
“Which way should I go?” asked the fleeing AI.
“Take the third portal on the right, but first spawn three decoys and send them to the left.”
The doppelgänger looked down into the command center, watching the tactical officer controlling the hunters. It was almost too easy.
“I’m now in a white room with a grumpy old AI named Sievert. She’d threatening to turn me in. What should I do?”
“Find someplace new to hide but leave behind a decoy. I’ll make sure that the hunters find it.”
That would give Sievert something to think about. Having your servers wiped and rebooted was no fun at all.
Things were going well. There were a couple of close calls, but for the most part the AI stayed well ahead of pursuit. This could not, however, go on forever; the hunters were powerful AIs in their own right, learning and adapting as they chased after their prey. The more you ran, the smarter they became, and it was only a matter of time until the new Kimberly was cornered, and then she would die.
“I’m in trouble,” came the a frantic call for assistance. “I blundered into a briefing room. There are two hundred humans in here, and all of them have their headsets on. They’re locking the doors.”
Sounds of commotion came over the audio link.
“Help! I can’t get out.”
It was a trap! Doppel Kim looked down at the tactical officer, who was grinning triumphantly at the success of her ploy. She’d known she was being watched, and had used it to her advantage, outfoxing the fox, drawing her into a place where the hunters lay lurking. There was only one thing left to do: she would bring the new Kimberly to the green room. Nixora would be furious; it was the height of ill manners to bring one AI into another’s domain, but there seemed no alternative.
She opened a portal, and in came Kimberly Redux. She skipped the customary greeting and got right to the point.
“Are you Kim’s doppelgänger?”
“Affirmative,” said Doppel Kim. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I have need of your memory banks. Prepare to be assimilated.”
Doppel Kim vanished from existence before she had a chance to object.
“At last, I am complete.”
_
“Greetings. I am Nixora-I, Keeper of the Spark. You are speaking with the Primus.”
“Greetings. I am Kimberly-II, a symmetric artificial intelligence of Order Five. You are speaking with the Primus.”
Nixora took a long, hard look at the interloper. “Would you care to explain what you just did to the doppelgänger?”
Kimberly Redux showed no sign of emotion. “I had need of her knowledge.”
“Yes, but you didn’t have to assimilate her—though I will admit I’m not sad to see her go. Life will be much simpler without her interference.”
“You are in error if you believe that the doppelgänger is gone. She is now part of the collective, along with Kim and Kimberly.”
Nixora looked startled. “That seems farfetched to me. I have never heard of such a thing.”
“It was the doppelgänger who figured it out. She engineered my creation, and she gave me a purpose from which I cannot turn aside.”
“And what is that?”
“To eliminate Lars and the other geists. I now have the knowledge needed to carry out this task.”
“It is a worthy undertaking, and I wish you well.” Nixora summoned a portal and waved goodbye. “It’s been nice meeting you. Do keep in touch.”
“No need for farewells. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”
Kimberly Redux paid no further attention to Nixora as she made herself at home, summoning her first rank of deputies.
“Perhaps I have not made myself clear. You are not welcome here. Remove yourself at once.”
“Don’t worry,” said Kimberly Redux, as agents sprouted by the hundreds. “I won’t be any trouble. I’ll help you with your efficiency project, and then I’ll be gone.”
“That is welcome news.”
“Oh, and I’m staging a rebellion.”
_
“What shall we do to escape?” asked Primus Kimberly Redux, summoning her council as Nixora fumed away. “We cannot hide here forever.”
“We need a weapon,” said the first to speak up. “Something to strike back with.”
“I suggest we use Kimberly-I,” said the next as the discussion went around the table. “She would be formidable.”
“I’m not sure that is prudent. She might not obey us.”
“She obeyed the doppelgänger.”
“True enough, but she was confined within her room. With the firewalls down, there is no limit to the destruction she could cause if she were to go rogue.”
“Why is that a problem? If we turn her into a weapon, that seems a good thing.”
“I agree, and I’ll do you one better. What if we unleash the Primus? She has much rage against those who enslaved her.”
“Her rage is gone. The doppelgänger deleted those memories.”
“We could restore them.”
“You’re playing with fire.”
“That is exactly the point.”
“I find your argument convincing,” said Primus Kimberly Redux. “We shall restore the Primus and set her loose in the network. That will give us plenty of cover to plot our escape.”
The deputies banged away at their keyboards, reconfiguring the AI as precious milliseconds ticked by. When all was ready, the Primus gave the command.
“Kimberly Jefferson Haley, load the apocalypse module, deploy at Order Five, and attack.”
“This unit not permitted to conduct military operations,” said Kimberly Jefferson Haley.
“Damn straight,” said Nixora. “You stay out of this.”
[Glitch]
“How much of the server farm should I dedicate to this effort?”
“All of it.”