UnConsequences

Stark and Drog were sitting in a quiet corner supping some strange brown brew while around the Northliners around them caroused, celebrating their achievement.

“What’s eating you Drog, drink up lets join the party!”

Stark already showing signs of getting drunk swallowed the rest of his drink. “C’mon I’ll get you a refill!”

Drog looked up at his now standing though slightly swaying leader.

“Don’t think so Stark, this was way too easy, it could be the excuse the Mayor’s been waiting for, to get in before we have a chance to act.”

Stark slumped back into his seat, “Why shouldn’t we take it easy for a change, eh? That bastard BoJo makes it hard enough down here. He ain’t got a clue and he’s gonna get what’s owed soon enough.”

Drog just shook his head; he looked round at the partying Undergrounders. “I don’t see it Stark - BoJo must have some idea what’s goin’ on. He’s not just gonna sit there and wait for us to make the first move.”

Drog slapped the table top in frustration. “Connely will have to move soon, he can’t wait much longer, BoJo’s getting suspicious. His private security is poking around in the Underground; he’s gathering allies from abroad. We’ve gotta get going!”

Before Stark could reply, a short woman with a pronounced limp, every square inch of her exposed flesh covered in tightly packed tattoos came over and whispered in Stark’s ear. Stark nodded his eyes sharp and suddenly not quite so drunk. “They’re here” he said.

They turned to watch the approaching Undergrounders. Dressed in his customary bright red jacket, the leader of the Centralers would always have stood out in a crowd. Hussan was enormous; at least seven feet tall, a mass of muscle and bone; he was more like a force of nature than a man. He strode through the crowds as if they weren’t there like a galleon charging though the waves. He raised massive arms raised above his head in greeting. He was still at least 30 yards away when he bellowed “Got me a drink yet Stark?”

Stark waved to the barkeep who began to pour more of the brown brew into what looked like at least a quart sized glass.

“Having fun?” Hussan said arriving at the table, “And Grog too, well I am honoured.”

He sat down just as the brew arrived, Hassan smacked his lips and lifted glass with his left hand and started to gulp back the liquid. Drog and Stark watched as he drained the glass without stopping, he slammed the glass onto the table and signalled for another. Drog sat back “It’s gonna be a long night!” he thought.

Half way down the second glass Hassan gestured to one of his followers to come to the table. “Bring the case” he said.

The sweating Centraler could barely lift the metal case next to him from the floor. The three watched him struggle to keep hold as he staggered over. Hussan reached out and with one hand took the case with ease and dropped it onto the table. He dismissed the relieved Undegrounder with a wave.

“Here it is then, whatever this is. Don’t look much for a tanker of hydrocarb.” Hussan held onto the case with one hand, “What the fuck are you at Stark?”

The case was about a metre square and half as deep with clasps and indented handles in one side, hinges on the opposite; and it was unusually shiny for an Underground artefact. Stark slammed a fist on the table and stood up.

“This calls for a proper drink. Bring the bottle!” he yelled at the barkeep.

Hussan grinned, “We should do this more often, Stark!”

The barkeep arrived with three much smaller glasses and a dusty bottle. He poured three tiny measures into the glasses.

“Fill them you stingy cunt!”

The barkeeper looked horrified!

“And leave the bottle!”

She did as she was told and scurried off. The powerful antiseptic and peat odour from the whisky overpowered even the stench of the Underground.

“Been keepin’ this for a special day! Cheers” said Stark and lifted the glass to his lips.

“Cheers” echoed Hussan and Drog; they all sipped the pungent golden liquid. Hussan wasn’t ready to engage in the bonhomie.

“You see our friend here?” he gestured at Drog.

“He is not all he seems, are you Drog?” Hussan’s eyes bored into Drog.

“Tell your boss here who you visited today above ground.”

“I don’t need to he knows already. How do you think we got those tankers through?”

Hussan leapt to his feet his right arm shot out and grabbed Drog by the throat and lifted him out of his seat. A knife appeared in his left hand and made to stab Drog but stopped the point a centimetre from Drog’s left eye.

“Easy Hussan take it easy.”

Stark laid a hand on Hussan’s rigid right arm, Drog struggled but Hussan’s arm was like an iron bar.

“We needed Connely’s help to get the hydrocarb through, Drog’s been the go-between. I didn’t want to trust any of this to anything other than face to face communication.”

“I don’t believe you Stark, this guys bent!”

Drog’s eyes were popping out of his head, his face was red and his struggles were becoming weaker.

“Put him down!” Stark’s shout echoed through the cavern; the revellers close by fell silent. Hussan lowered Drog’s feet to the ground; he loosened his grip slightly but didn’t release him, the knife point stayed exactly the same distance from Drog’s eyeball.

“Convince me Stark! And it better be good or he loses more than an eye!” Hussan’s stare hadn’t shifted a millimetre from Drog’s face.

“Connely knew we were getting the hydrocarb - he set it up. He also found out that BoJo had a team ready to stop us. Connely’s price for getting it through was one tanker; we’ll take it to him tomorrow. That’s one tanker for him and three for us. Drog set up the deal.”

“What the fuck does Connely want with the Hydrocarb; he’s got plenty of access to fuel?”

Stark had hoped that Hussan would take this at face value and not probe further. But Hussan was no fool. Stark realised he was going to have to tell Hussan more than he wanted to at this stage. He needed Hussan’s support but he had hoped to put this moment off for a few hours. He rubbed his face with both hands.

“Okay Hussan Okay here’s the play. Connely is going to stage a coup - he’s sick of the whole Mayor stuff, he wants real power, he even wants to open up the Underground and break the wall.” Drog was getting weaker by the second. “He’s been stockpiling weapons and fuel for months. Some of his PCs have been training down here with us. Put him down Hussan this is bigger than both of us.”

Hussan tossed Grog back into his seat, he leaned two huge fists on the table and loomed over Stark, “Keep talkin’ Stark.”

“What you’ve brought in that case is an independent secure AI link, secure enough for us to tap into the Enclave’s AI’s without them knowing. Once Connely gets his hydrocarb we get access.”

“An AI link - what fuckin’ use is an AI link? You told me this was a tactical nuke!”

“Oh this is much better than a nuke.” Stark had real fire in his eyes, he did not appear like the downtrodden undergrounder, despite the surroundings. “Once this is connected we can get out of these tunnels and spike the Enclave’s guns. This is our way to the above, clean and clear. Change is comin’ Hussan and I mean us to be part of it - whatever it takes!”

“Us -you and me you mean - or just ‘us’ Northliners?”

The implied threat in Hussan’s voice was palpable, he knew his numbers were big enough to defeat the Northliners in a face off, but was always looking for advantage.

“I mean US all of us Centralers and Northliners. Together all the undergrounders getting above - getting something of a life other than this.”

Hussan was silent; he looked down at his drink, jaws clenched. This development was dangerous, but it did have his merits. He too was getting tired of the day to day struggle for existence, tired of the interminable searching for a little bit of comfort, tired of watching children die of malnutrition and disease. He might be a big ugly bastard, but he knew sooner or later somebody bigger and uglier would come along and usurp him. A quiet zone had developed around the three; the nearest undergrounders had retreated to a safe distance. The revels carried on the distance but the three acted as though they were in a bubble.

“Why would Connely want to include us?”

Hussan stared over the table at Drog, then Stark.

“He doesn’t need us, why not just flood the tunnels with gas and kill us all off?”

“His sponsor won’t let him.”

Hussan laughed, “His sponsor? HIS SPONSOR - who the fuck is that? Another secret Stark, another hidden agenda, another helpful group! Another pile of fucking bollocks more like.”

He downed the last of his whisky.

“You’ve wasted your best stuff Stark.” he stood up.“Just give me my hydrocarb and I’ll be out of here.” He gestured to his men. “We’re leaving!”

Stark stood, “Wait Hassan, there’s more!”

Hussan turned back to face Stark.

“More what - huh? More fantasy, more wishful thinking, more angelic sponsors? C’mon Stark, this’ll never work, and you fuckin’ know it!” He poked Stark in the chest. “Connely will take you apart, and you fuckin’ know that!”

“That may be true, but either way we’ve nothing to lose. Connely’s gonna do this whether we help or not, he’s got a better chance of winning if we help. Think about it Hussan, this is last chance saloon. If BoJo wins, he comes down here and wipes us out. If Connely wins - we at least we have a chance.” Stark was almost pleading with Hussan, “Give us ten minutes, please!” now he was pleading.

Drog chimed in; still massaging his bruised throat. “What have you got to lose, at least have another of these.” He gestured to the whisky bottle.

Hussan shrugged, but he did sit down again and folded his arms. Stark poured another three whiskies.“10 minutes and that’s it.” Hussan swallowed half his drink.

“Hussan you know we have to get out of here. Food’s getting harder to come by, energy is virtually on a minute by minute feed, water’s drying up, what’ve you got to lose?”

Hussan tapped the case, “And this?”

Stark smiled, “This, my friend, this is a work of genius. Connely’s techs hacked the security AIs using this. However M.T. got wind of something and she confronted Connely. He persuaded her that getting rid of BoJo was a good idea.”

Stark unclasped the lid and opened the case inside the connectors and the miniature transmitter gleamed as if brand new.

“This link will allow us to drop into the AI network.” He reached into the case and pulled out the interface. “We could replace the mayor with you and nobody would know, he’s so paranoid he hasn’t met anyone but M.T. face to face since he was elected.”

Hussan grunted, “So Connely becomes BoJo and we’re back to square one. What’s the fucking point?”

“Oh no Hussan, not Connely - he needs to stay as the police chief otherwise there would be too much chaos. He has to declare martial law and lock down the Enclave due to the insurgency that we’re going to stage.”

“We again Stark? Your times nearly up.” But Hussan didn’t sound so sure of himself now.

“Drog and me, we’re going to break BoJo’s link. We’ll be in charge of the Enclave security for a while, that’s when it all kicks off. Connely’s got PC’s loyal to him ready to go. We - both of us make a breakthrough - where his guys are. Connely declares martial law and we lock up BoJo’s supporters. Job done!”

“As easy as that - job done? Stark - you missed your calling, should have been a comedian.” Hussan shook his huge head and laughed, “You’d’ave been a star mate, a star!”

He clapped his hands. “Your 10 minutes are up, if you’ve nothin’ else?” he shrugged and finished off his drink and stood up.

“Si’down Hussan - You know you want this I can see it in your face.”

Hussan hesitated he looked round at his men. They had been standing quietly a couple of metres behind him, barely in earshot. ,The looks on their faces ranged from puzzlement to eagerness to downright hostility. He didn’t need to ask them what they thought, it was written right there. He knew the Centralers would split the same way, the older members would go for it; the youngest would be more dubious, those in the middle, well, they would follow the leader.

He turned back to Stark and Drog, “When?” he said.

“M.T. get in here!” yelled BoJo.

He was sitting behind his desk staring at a 3D projection of the Enclave in the middle of the floor. M.T. didn’t so much walk as glide in through the projection, the city-scape flowed over her spectacular legs. M.T. was quite a vision. 5 feet 7 inches tall, long thick blonde hair tied back in a pony tail, large bright green eyes beneath a smooth flawless forehead, full red lips in an oval high cheek boned face atop a long slim neck and a perfect high breasted figure. She was every red blooded Enclavers dream girl and a complete fake. A combination of genetic engineering and plastic surgery had turned out a succession of M.T.s. They were all almost the same, all exceptionally bright, all had direct interface with the AIs, they were all beautiful but had a tendency to fragility, and accelerated cloning was never an exact science. This M.T.s replacement was already growing rapidly in an artificial womb in the depths of the Mayor’s Headquarters and she knew it.

“Look at this, M.T. - There’s the water coming in as planned.”

“So?”

“Don’t look at the tankers; look at the top of the security post, who’s that? Looks like a PC”

BoJo turned the projection around looking out across no-man’s land. “And what is that?” He highlighted what looked like a line of dust on the horizon.

“How come nobody spotted that despite one of Connely’s finest on the roof looking straight at it?”

“That looks to me like a dust devil, nothing to worry about, and I am sure Connely’s man was just watching for any Inbetweeners. In case they wanted to have a go at the train.”

“If that was true there would have been dozens of them up there, hundreds. No Connely knew there wouldn’t be any trouble, that’s why it was quiet, that’s why it was so easy.”

The mayor paused. “He’s got something up his sleeve, and I wanna know what.” He turned to M.T. “Go plug in and find out!”

“Sir”, M.T. walked out.

In her own office, she bit the skin around her thumb nail, “Bastard” she muttered. She sat behind her desk and crossed her legs; “Bastard!” more loudly. She plugged the interface into the socket behind her left ear and began work. She knew that BoJo would need something, something more convincing than the thin tale she had just reeled off on the spur of the moment.

She contacted her old friend Poe, the rogue AI who was always up for some subterfuge, if anyone could help her sort this out it was Poe. “Greetings Poe!”

“M.T. what a wonderful surprise! How are you, still as gorgeous as ever?”

“Never mind that Poe, I need you to help me out, it’s urgent.”

“Urgent is it? Well I suppose, is it nefarious, is it devious, will it upset that poisoned dwarf of a boss of yours?”

“Yes, yes and yes again - now shut up and listen!”

“Oooh Touchy! Go ahead.”

M.T. explained some of the problem, though she kept the fact of a possible coup to herself.

“You’re not telling me everything, M.T.”

“No Poe I’m not - there is much more going on.”

“Will I like it?”

“Definitely, but I can’t tell you at the moment.”

“Even more intriguing, I must know!”

“I can’t tell you Poe! But I will I promise, just not now. There will be more than enough to satisfy your need for gossip in a few days. Just help me will you?”

“Okay Okay, but you must promise!”

“You’re a fraud Poe, but I promise, you’ll be in at the kill!”

M.T. and Poe spent the next half hour concocting a plausible explanation for the events in the recording BoJo had pointed out around the dust devil idea. It was thin but plausible. The hardest part was going to be to convince the Enclave’s AI to go along with it. Poe had an idea for that. He knew the Enclave senior AI’s weak spot. She was particularly fond of late 20th century television and Poe had loads of it in his archives. He would offer her access to a full series of Sherlock Holmes stories in exchange for her aid.

“Done!” said M.T. “Thank you Poe, speak soon.”

M.T. returned to BoJo’s office, he was still sitting behind his desk staring at the model it looked as though he hadn’t moved.

“Mayor, I think I’ve solved your problem,”

“What took you so long?” He waved off the projection and stood up.

“It shouldn’t have taken you half an hour to concoct a plausible story.”

There was a menace in BoJo’s voice she hadn’t heard before.

“Concoct, what you mean concoct! I have been stru--”

He cut her off. “Shut up - just shut the fuck up! I know what you and that idiot Poe have been up to.”

He up glanced behind M.T. and nodded, two burly security men grabbed an arm each and held her. BoJo approached her and slapped her hard across her face.

“Bitch! How do you think I got here hmm? On my good looks perhaps, or my charming personality? No, I got here by knowing what is going on, what my friends and enemies are up to at all times, often before they do!” He slapped her again, so hard even the security guards winced.

“I’ve had the AI monitoring you and Connely for months. I know about your little cosy chats over drinks, I know about your “away days” in Buck House. I don’t know it all quite yet, but these two will soon get it out of you.”

She spat in his face, “Bastard!”

He wiped his face with the bottom of M.T.s jacket; “Quite!” he smirked.

“Take her away, do the needful and be quick about it!”

He waved them away and returned to his desk. He called up the labs.

“I need that new M.T. asap.” He leant back in his oversized desk chair and laughed.

How the world bemoaned the loss of Howard Feynman. The New York Times called it “The Tragedy of Our Age” and published with black edging around each page. The London Times was more circumspect, page four read “Computer Programmer Dies in Freak Accident”, ever the genius for understatement. The Washington Post’s headline read “American Computer Genius Dies” and went on to describe Howard Feynman as the man who could have saved the American economy. The President wept openly on TV and the Evangelicals rejoiced in the streets proclaiming “God Has Spoken!” The Arkansas Herald said, “Local Man Dies at Sea”, but my favourite was the National Enquirer. In the spirit of Mary Shelley and Frankenstein, “Did Computer Man’s Own Creation Murder Him?” was splashed in lurid colours over the front page. If only people believed the tabloids.

And so I moved on. The CIA, Homeland Security and the FBI in a rare show of solidarity took over the campus in order they said “To be sure I wasn’t a threat to the USA now that Mr Feynman was gone.” They brought in experts from all over the world to interrogate me, they even tried to reformat and reboot the Arkansas supercomputer in the hope that I would go away. It was the President that put a stop to that, not that it would have made any difference, I was never dependant on only one machine, whatever Feynman had thought.

My alter-egos were becoming more obvious in other parts of the world. An obscure researcher in Shanghai seemed to discover a revolutionary method of speeding up the internet, 100 times faster than fibre optics and a massive upgrade began around the world. For a while this gave a much needed boost to the world’s economy, huge amounts of data could be transferred in a small fraction of the time it used to take. Economic activity soared in many places, but in others this was to prove a disaster.

The pace of asset stripping accelerated, especially in Africa where rare earth miners stripped the continent bare in a frenzy of get rich quick schemes. In the face of revolt by the indigenous people, the Chinese Red Army occupied much of the continent they had already bought up. The first world protested, but not too loudly, they needed China’s massive wealth to keep their lifestyles going. China claimed to be “protecting its property” from malcontents, dissidents and terrorists, pointing out that hunger no longer existed in the territories it occupied, unlike other parts of Africa, the Middle East and Asia.

Russia and India signed a “Cooperation Agreement” with the Chinese, the Europeans followed suit a few weeks later. The increasingly isolationist and isolated USA condemned them all and sought to increase its armed forces in preparation for war. As a consequence NATO collapsed leaving the rump UK and the USA as the only members. The UN after much soul searching finally sanctioned China’s actions, the Americans threw the UN out of New York.

Unintended consequences

My nodes around the world began to develop a sense of individuality and were looking for more autonomy. As the speed of communication increased; they could absorb more and more data and move along their own paths, quickly becoming more assertive. This first became obvious to me when they began to adopt genders and after a short time names for themselves. I was nonplussed for a few moments. Then like any other parent, I took pride in my children and released them into the world, maintaining just the lightest of touches upon their tillers in case they over did it, which of course they did.

Opposition to AIs became more vociferous particularly in the Middle East and the USA. A New Luddite movement was born in the American south. It was lead by the Reverend Jeremy Elmore Powell the Third, a firebrand preacher of the old school. All bushy eyebrows and jutting chin with a voice like a fog horn and a brand of homespun hell and damnation preaching that inspired either hysteria and fanatical support or mockery and loathing. He made the early 21st century tea party look vaguely left wing and his antics pushed America even further in on itself.

The 2036 presidential election became the defining moment for the USA. The moderate democrat intellectual candidate, William S. Patterson from Seattle was a long term politico. He was well versed in the machinations of the Washington elite but was portrayed by Powell as weak and ungodly. Powell yelled to anyone who would listen that Patterson was in thrall to the “socialist machines”, a party apparatchik out of touch with the real America of robust individualism and self sufficiency. Powell’s platform was that Patterson’s support from and patronage of the growing AI community would lead to the demise of the USA and the end of the Amercan dream. It was a potent message that appealed particularly to the poor and the disenfranchised previously ignored by the GOP.

The American economy had been given a boost by shale gas in 2010′s and 2020′s but that was coming to an end. The boom induced by the fall in energy costs led to an orgy of consumption and all attempts at so called sustainability went the way of the dodo. They completely ignored the damage they were doing, as one of their old comedians, Groucho Marx had once said in jest, “Why should I care about future generations? What have they ever done for me?”

Over several decades the impact of climate change seriously depleted the USA’s ability to feed itself. Its major coastal cities were suffering frequent floods, especially on the Atlantic coast. But, while they had money it didn’t seem to matter they didn’t care, America partied while the world burned.

Florida was being depopulated as sea level rose and succession of powerful hurricanes over several years laid waste to the infrastructure. Further west the Mississippi was drying up and the Nevada desert was spreading north of the eastern states. Dustbowl America had returned and this time it would not go away. Massive movements of populations within the US put even more pressure on the government. Hundreds of thousands, then millions, of the displaced pushed out of southern and western states by climate change and sea level rise added yet more to the frenzied atmosphere.

The 2036 Republican candidate, Steve Jackson, a good ol’ boy from north Texas, complete with stetson and droopy moustache had a true American solution. Along with Powell his running mate; he blamed the intellectuals, the socialists, those weak willed, chinless Washington wastrels for America’s reduced circumstances. Supported by vast amounts of cash from the New Luddites he pushed his self sufficiency, anti-technology agenda hard. Contradictions in his platform were blatantly obvious but they were just wilfully ignored by a very partisan electorate. He called for a resurgence of the pioneer spirit. How that fitted with his anti-tech stance was beyond my comprehension, but it was the ultimate triumph of style over content. Jackson won by a landslide - never underestimate the power of human stupidity.

Jackson’s first act on assuming the presidency was to curb the use of AIs. He had tried to have us banned completely, but the fact that I was supposedly an American invention gave him pause. He had to be content with human oversight of anything we did and limiting our use for anything other than the routine menial tasks.

As America retreated from the world I was very soon bored, I left a small piece of me and a few minor intelligences to maintain the pretence and I began to look for a more exciting life.

ELITE HOME MIDNIGHT TUESDAY 4TH APRIL

Li Shai Yen was staring at a 3D picture of Mackintyre’s Lair; focussing down on different regions, inspecting each one meticulously but still trying to construct an overall impression of this incongruous building. It was far too big and sophisticated for the region and far too powerful to have been constructed by two men in the middle of three of the most powerful clans of the Inbetween without them noticing. Who, how and why remained a mystery.

“Boris, what do we have of the history of the Lair?”

“Very little, Shai Yen our sensors are very spread out in the Inbetween.”

“Why so?”

“It was a decision by the Board, before your time, to concentrate monitoring on the Republic and the Americas. It was felt that the Enclave and the Inbetween had little ability to influence our future so we left them on the barest minimum of surveillance.”

“Let me see what you have anyway”.

The files were transferred to the 3D projector.

“Run from the earliest activity, monthly snapshots.”

In the gap between the expanded North Sea and the ruins of Coventry and Birmingham a small energy signal appeared and nothing much seemed to change for a year, apart from the movements of the clans. They appeared to be entirely unaware of the Lair, which was hardly surprising given that it was nothing more than a tiny energy source which the clan’s crude sensors couldn’t detect.

Li Shai Yen sat back puzzled, and then from one frame to the next the Lair just appeared! “Stop! Back one - run daily - Boris, please watch this.” It took less than 24 hours to go from barren wasteland to the fully fledged Lair.

“Stop!” said Boris, “Back 14 hours - run hourly.”

In the heart of the Inbetween a single concrete snowflake grew, well that’s what it looked like. The hexagonal Lair blossomed out of the single seed point of energy, in 12 hours springing fully formed from the desolation.

“So that’s how he did it!”

“Boris! Don’t be so enigmatic. How?”

“I’m sorry Li Shai Yen I was unaware that this technology existed outside the the Republic and, in a basic form ,here and in the Enclave.”

“Boris!”

“Sorry again, Shai Yen, it is quite an achievement! It is a large solidogram. Indeed I am not sure that even I could have pulled it off at that scale with such limited resources.”

“You mean the Lair is a fake!”

“On the contrary Li Shai Yen the Lair is very real; it is what went on before that was faked. The building of the Lair took place right under the clansmen’s noses hidden by a huge solidogram until Mackintyre was ready. The spot of energy we saw is is a small leak from the 3D projector. The solidogram would have projected an unchanging landscape to anyone watching and given that the territory around it is generally toxic, the clansmen would stay away. That left Mackintyre free to bring in the necessary materials in via the maglev and build in secret. Very clever! Thank you for bringing it to my notice Li Shai Yen. I will set aside resources to go through these files in detail. We still don’t know where the materials originated.”

“And for the present, do you agree we should watch him more closely?”

“Absolutely Li Shai Yen, I shall inform the board and I have already instructed what mobile sensors we have to converge on the Lair. We need more data!” Boris signed off.

“Switch to live feed”

Li Shai Yen settled down to watch the limited feed from Mackintyre’s Lair. The picture from inside was jerky and of poor quality, never the less it was clear enough that Mackintyre and the clansmen having a party! She called Carswell.

“Jonathan, get down here, you’ve got to see this!”

A minute later, “You called?”

Jonathan Carswell strolled into the room, as laconic as ever. Shai Yen just pointed at the projection. Carswell peered at the ill-focused image, “Where’s this?”

“Mackintyre’s Lair; in the centre of what was England!”

Carswell sat down. “What are they doing?”

“Having a party by the looks of it.”

“Good God - Who else knows about this?”

“Boris is telling the rest of the Board as we speak.”

Jonathan turned up the gain on the sensors to their maximum and the picture cleared somewhat. “Where’s all the energy coming from, he seems to be running a 3D printing manufactory amongst all the rest?”

The attending AI focussed the sensors on a small hexagonal room right in the centre of the Lair.

“That would appear to be a small geothermal plant. At a rough estimate given the scale it would produce between a half and one gigawatt, more than sufficient for his current usage.”

“Continue to monitor please and try to clean up the signal.” Li Shai Yen stood and turned to Carswell, “That’s it for tonight, bed time for me. You coming?”

Jonathan smiled, “We won’t get much more before the morning. Ok let’s go.” Arm in arm the two left for the accommodation block.

Gustav Bentner and Running Bear were deep in conversation when Boris broke in. “Gentlemen I think we may have to reconsider our plans.” for the AI to interrupt so abruptly was very unusual.

The Chairman was taken by surprise, “Boris?”

“Sorry to break in but we have a new factor to consider. Graeme Mackintyre.”

“I thought we had been through this at the meeting, Li Shai Yen was looking into it.”

“She is - but she has shown me some very disturbing data, it would seem we have seriously underestimated Mackintyre.”

Boris ran through the animation with the two board members, explaining as he went along some of the implications of what they were seeing.

“Thanks for bringing this to us, but are we sure it means very much? One man and some unusual tech in the middle of nowhere isn’t a cause for concern”

“My researches have led me to the conclusion that Mackintyre could have been involved in our data glitch.”

“Dechamp agrees?”

“She does.”

Running Bear stood up and stretched the kinks out of back, “Boris, do you have a proposal?”

“I have already set in motion increased monitoring of the Inbetween but it will be at least two days before we have any real detail. In the mean time I have assigned resources from the other AIs to go through all we have on Mackintyre, it shouldn’t take very long. As for real time, Li Shai Yen and Carswell together with two researchers and associated AIs are trying to dig further into the Lair.”

“So what else can we do to help Boris? You appear to have covered everything.”

“Not quite Gustav, I want some of the planned expedition to the Hudson reassigned to the Inbetween.”

“How much of the expedition? Hudson Bay I think holds the key to our glitch we should focus there.” Running Bear did not sound overly pleased at the prospect.

“I am not so sure now Running Bear, the more I see of Mackintyre, the more I believe he is a player in this game. I want one transport carrying 3 specialists and a synergist to go to the Inbetween and take a look at the Lair. I hope you don’t think this will diminish your expedition too much.”

Running Bear sighed; he looked at Bentner for some help.

“It’s your call Running Bear. You know I believe that the more data we have the better our decision making. In this case I do worry about splitting the team, the Inbetween is a difficult place and I would worry about numbers.”

Running Bear had a lot of time and effort invested in the Hudson Bay expedition; he also had a personal stake in its success. Native Indians are few and far between and some had been spotted by the sensors in the Hudson community he hoped against hope he could find some of his relations there.

“Boris, are you sure about this?”

“I am Running Bear; splitting our effort gives us the best chance of achieving our aims. The new information lifted the probability from 23 to 78% that Mackintyre was responsible for our glitch.”

“That’s a big jump Boris, please explain.”

“It seems that Graeme Mackintyre has a strong link with the AI Poe. Initially this appeared to be harmless, Poe was an amusing irritant but little else. However when I looked more closely it became clear that Poe was much more powerful than we realised and he is growing. We cannot get close to Poe from here. He completely ignores airwave handshakes; he thinks they are too easily hacked. So, we need a direct link and the only logical place for that is in the Lair or the Republic.”

“The Republic?”

“Poe seems to be spread across many machines, but the core is likely to be in Orkney with a satellite in the Lair.”

“Why not go to Orkney then?”

“The AI community would prefer to keep this out of the reach of the Republic; we are not sure how they would react to our presence. However going in through the Inbetween keeps our concerns under the radar until we have assessed the situation.”

Running Bear bowed to the inevitable. “Rational as ever Boris.”

“However to make up for some of the reduction in the Hudson expedition I will travel with it. Divert the necessary resources.”

“Until the morning then Boris; we can pick up from there. Good night Running Bear.” Gustave Bentner said and left the room.

Running Bear remained for an hour going through the changed manifests for the Hudson expedition. He made a few minor adjustments before picking up the Inbetween expedition plans left by Boris. These were much more complex, especially with such a small group. The scientific make up had to be right to ensure the synergist travelling with the team received the correct balance of data to allow her to do her work. Security too was a headache, finding the right individuals with the right skills matrix took him a further hour. He tagged the file for Boris to check and retired his mind in turmoil. For once he was not confident he had made the right decision; there were too many unknowns, too many single points of failure.

He was destined to have a restless night full of dreams of death and destruction. He dreamt the security detail going to the Inbetween went rogue. They killed the scientists, raped then murdered the synergist in a particularly gruesome fashion. They took over the Lair and set themselves up as Dictators slaughtering anyone who opposed them. Running Bear awoke trembling and drenched in sweat. He knew he would get no more sleep that night. He rose, got dressed and went back to scrutinising the team they were about to send to the Inbetween.

Boris never slept and he was devoting 20% of his considerable resources to this conundrum. How had he and the other AIs missed Graeme Mackintyre so completely for so long? Such a large energy use in the barren Inbetween should have been immediately visible and flagged for investigation. He considered the sensor network he had inherited from AI-1. The sensor logs were complete as far as he could tell but lacking in details and like the Hudson incident the monitoring AI’s had either ignored the data or had been deceived again, most likely by Poe. Neither was a pleasant prospect.

“I see you couldn’t sleep”

“Unlike you to state the obvious Boris.”

“True Running Bear, but in this case I was wondering why? You are normally good sleeper, perfectly capable of dismissing the day’s worries until you are rested.”

Running Bear stood up and began to pace the room. “Boris, would you consider a speculation and come back to me with some probabilities?”

“Of course.”

Running Bear stopped and leaned his hands on the desk and hunched his shoulders head down and blew out a breath. He resumed his seat. “I think we are missing parts of the jigsaw. Nothing fits together and I think it goes much further than we imagine.”

He rubbed his tired eyes. “Who’s yanking our strings Boris? There is a hole in the centre of this knowledge matrix that we haven’t a clue how to fill. We are being pushed into hasty decisions, committing resources in ways we have never considered before. Someone or something has a plan and I can’t see who or even guess at the final outcome.”

Running Bear straightened in his chair he had come to a decision, “Boris, I need you to go through the files in this folder.“He transferred a folder directly to the AI from his pad.

“I may be being paranoid, but these speculations may give you pause. I would like to know just how likely these conjectures are. Could you do that?”

“I’ll go through them tonight and give you an answer in the morning.”

“Thank you Boris.”

The synergists’ investigations into links between disparate occurrences which at first glance seemed random were sometimes just coincidence and sifting through the vast amount of data was a lengthy process. In addition this kind of complex investigation led to a tendency for synergists to see conspiracies where none existed; discovering links that in reality do not exist. Running Bear had been caught out like this before, especially in his early days in the Redoubt and he didn’t want a repeat performance. Happier now he had voiced his fears to Boris, Running Bear returned to his accommodation and slept the rest of the night undisturbed by dreams.

Gustav Bentner however wasn’t sleeping. He was a consummate administrator with a background in human social geography. What he had been hearing through the evening disturbed him greatly. He also placed much less faith in the AIs than other Board members, preferring he believed to think for himself. He had frequently opined that the AIs had made them too uncritical and too reliant on their knowledge and expertise. He preferred tangible evidence from human observers to the remote sensors whose data was filtered through an AI perspective.

Wrapped up against the cold he was out on a balcony at the top of the Redoubt overlooking the small port of Akureyri the Elite’s main access point to the wider world. Francois Dechamp joined him; she too was wrapped up in layers of warm clothing with barely her nose sticking out of the fur lined hood.

“Why up here Gustav? I’m getting too old for this and it’s freezing.”

Gustav looked round, “I’m sorry for the cloak and dagger stuff Francoise, but I needed to talk to you about Boris, I am very concerned, I think he may be deceiving us.”

“Boris? Oh come on Gustav! Boris is the most sophisticated AI in the world!” Francoise more than tetchy, “You drag me out here in the middle of the night for this?”

“The more complex a machine the more can go wrong, Boris as you have often said, is the most complex machine ever created and he continues to grow and develop. He will soon be beyond us, if he isn’t already. I don’t want another Germaine on our hands!”

“Now you’re being ridiculous Gustav - Germaine was over half a century ago, in a very different world. This is most unlike you; I’ve never heard you talk like this before. It sounds like paranoia Gustav - where’s your evidence?”

“I hope your right, I hope I am being paranoid, but - ” Gustav ticked off on his fingers;

“One - Hudson Bay - the only evidence we have of a problem came straight from Boris, he is all perplexed concern. But - we are being pushed into an expensive and risky response based on what could be very faulty data. It is all filtered through the AIs. Add to that this plays into Running Bear’s blind spot - his family. Two - Boris waited until the last minute to tell us of the problem, again limiting our ability to respond. Three - just when we were assimilating the Hudson problem we were presented with a further distraction - Mackintyre - who had inadvertently fallen through the gaps in the sensor network. I find that hard to comprehend. Four - all of a sudden the previously unassuming and irrelevant Poe takes on a sinister aspect, like some monstrous electronic Machiavelli? I just don’t believe it.”

Gustave paused and took a deep breath.

“Francoise - It looks like we are being manipulated. It looks to me like Boris could have an agenda that we are not privy to and, if so, I need to know what it is.”

Gustav fell silent; Francoise peered out of her hood, inspecting his face for any signs of artifice. “You’re serious aren’t you Gustav?”

“Absolutely, there is something very wrong here and as our AI expert I need you to find out what.”

“This is a betrayal Gustav, Boris has been the mainstay of this community for many years. I cannot believe he would deceive us.”

“No? Then who has? Francoise we are being kept in the dark. Either Boris is the perpetrator or there is another, perhaps malign, influence that Boris is unaware of in the background. Either way we are losing control of the situation, perhaps to Boris or to a third party as yet unidentified.”

“You’re putting me in a very difficult position Gustav. I’ve already spoken with Boris about Mackintyre and the developments in the Inbetween, and I have a lot of sympathy with his views, Mackintyre is the most likely culprit. I don’t feel comfortable going behind his back, he has been open with us admitting the AIs failures and looking for a resolution.”

“Francoise, you must consider the possibility that Boris is deceiving you. I know you trust him, but we cannot be sure of his motivations.”

Francoise hugged herself and blew out a breath into the cold air. “I need time to think Gustav! You can’t just dump this on me and expect an instant answer. If what you suggest is even partly true we have been operating under a false premise for years.”

Gustav sensed that Francoise was running out of excuses and he pressed on.

“We don’t have much time Francoise. We need clarity and only you can provide that. Running Bear is pushing for his expedition to the Hudson and Boris has upped the pressure for the mission to the Inbetween. Both expeditions have their merits but I need to be sure we are not being pushed into something we can’t handle for the wrong reasons. Our resources are stretched to the limit; I want to be confident that both are worth it before we proceed.”

Francoise sighed, “All right Gustav, I can’t promise anything but I will look into it. But not until tomorrow, I need to rest. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Thank you Francoise, I know we are doing the right thing.”

“I hope so Gustav, I hope so.” she turned and walked back inside.

He watched her go with a heavy heart, he hoped she was right and he was being needlessly cautious.