Authors: Luca Rossi
Antonio and Florentino stop working and turn, perplexed, towards Lorena.
Florentino, panicked, asks: “Lorena, what are you doing?”
“I don't know if I believe Isabella, but if we eliminate Mario, we can be sure that DataCom won't be able to make updates to the killer code.”
Mario exclaims: “Isabella? She's with you? Can I talk to her? If you let me - ”
“No.” Lorena answers. “I'm sorry. Goodbye, Mario.”
Lorena gives the execution command.
“The biological life form hosting the nanochip will be terminated. Do you confirm?” asks the system's synthetic voice.
“Con -” Lorena starts to say, but is hit by Florentino, who throws her to the ground with all of his weight.
2/VI – Mario's pain
I'm alive!
Mario stares at his hands as if they might disappear at any moment.
And free!
He looks around him. He knows where he is. He knows he probably won't be able to escape.
But that doesn't matter right now. I can think.
And suddenly, he remembers
her,
his wife: until now he hasn't really had a chance to grieve.
When Isabella revealed her identity as a DataCom informer, he was still under the effect of the drugs she had given him. And as soon as he received the nanochip implant, Isabella no longer meant anything to him.
Now, however, it's as if that pain exploded all at once. His wife, Isabella...
why?
He wanted to scream and rip something up, break through the office walls surrounding him with his fists.
How could she have faked it for all these years?
The sad and obvious truth gradually dawned on him:
the nanochip
. His wife was a perfect actress controlled by a cerebral device. He wondered if she had ever made a pure, spontaneous, sincere, intimate gesture towards him.
My life, it's all been a sham!
His marriage was merely a scripted scenario, used by others to control him from up-close. Even at work, he thought he was writing algorithms for the artificial intelligences used by video games, and instead he was creating a code that would be used to exterminate the human race. And behind all of this, it was always DataCom!
Mario glances at the closed door of the lab, expecting someone to burst in at any moment. A small robot enters from a panel on the lower part of the wall and begins cleaning and sanitizing the floor and walls. Mario absentmindedly watches its movements.
What can I do?
The communication channel that crazy lady had used to talk to him had unexpectedly closed.
Who was that woman? And how did she get through the DataCom nanochip? How could she bypass the firewalls and virtually impenetrable defenses? Is this all a dream? Is DataCom trying to test me? But these are actually my thoughts. I could never formulate these kinds of ideas if the nanochip was still working.
After finishing with the floor, the robot starts climbing the wall. It stops in front of Mario's head. The little display lights up. Black characters run across the green background. Mario, curious, leans forward to read it: “You need to break free from DataCom control.”
Mario's eyes grow large.
“Talk in a low voice.”
“What are you?” Mario whispers.
“I'm Option B. Isabella received all the directions to save you. But something seems to not have worked. We had to intervene. We have to make sure DataCom doesn't notice that you're no longer under the nanochip's control.”
“But...who are you?”
“We can explain later, there's no time now. The nanochip stopped sending feedback on your brain activity several minutes ago. An automatic control will soon be triggered.”
Mario considers his options:
there's no other alternative.
“Okay, what do I need to do?”
“We need to install a second nanochip. The one from DataCom will give you the usual input. You'll be aware of everything that it tells you and will act accordingly, pretending to follow their instructions. The second nanochip will let you be free to think your own thoughts.”
“Is it safe?”
“You might get a slight headache.”
Mario takes a minute to think, then accepts: “Okay, go ahead.”
“Turn around.”
He obeys. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches the little cleaning robot's arm come out of the metal shell and towards the base of his neck. Then he feels the burn from an extremely painful sting.
The directions from DataCom resume their flow through his thoughts.
2/VII – Guilty feelings
Mario feels the impulses and nonverbal orders pass through his mind. Now, however, he's able to distance himself from them. He no longer acts reflexively, as he used to.
For the first time he understands the deadly power of the DataCom nanochip.
Do these things also use my code?
he wonders.
The robot is still behind him, waiting. He turns to look at it, doubting, however, that the greenish display can give him the answer he's looking for. “And now? What do I do now?” he asks.
The black characters begin running across the screen again. “You need to modify the code to make it less efficient and slow down operations. You need to be very careful: DataCom is monitoring everything and it's absolutely essential that they don't realize you're sabotaging it.”
Mario is confused: “If DataCom notices a drop in the suicide rate, wouldn't it assume that it's because of the code?”
The letters spell out the answer:
“While you proceed with your sabotage, dozens of hacker cells will start to send out messages that will undermine people's trust in our products. DataCom will think that humans are starting to develop a natural resistance, like an organism that, under a viral attack, begins producing preliminary antibodies.”
They'll find out about me. I'm sure they will
. “But why me? Couldn't you yourself sabotage the code?”
“Neither DataCom nor we are able to move within its complexity. We can understand and replicate the majority of human life and its creations, but the work of some subjects goes far beyond our reach. We are still unable to process the vast amount of information in a painter's work, such as Leonardo Da Vinci. Nor your code.”
Mario's fingers start to tremble. An atrocious thought starts to creep through his mind. He takes a deep breath.
I need to know
.
“So no one else is able to make modifications to the code?”
“No. It would take the combined efforts of thousands of human and artificial intelligences, and decades of work, to produce something comparable.”
Mario feels crushed underneath an enormous weight. The doubt that is terrorizing him becomes even more real.
Millions of human lives, the fate of the human race.
In spite of himself, he can't refrain from asking the next question: “And no one else would have been able to create this code?”
“No, Mario.”
Oh my god! I didn't even know who it was meant for! Nor did I know what they were going to use it for. But I'm the one who's made all of this possible.
“Mario, there's something else you need to know.”
The little robot gives him the same information Isabella received on the control mechanism setup by the ancient civilization.
How could the activation of an ancient plan depend on the work of one single human being?
He knows he's not the first man ever called upon to carry such a heavy burden.
Did the people who studied atoms have any idea that they would be used to create atomic bombs? And if it wasn't for those scientists, who would have taken their place?
But what he did couldn't be justified.
The code that's exterminating humans was my creation! I made all of this possible.
The robot's display doesn't show any more letters.
Mario's voice sounds distant: “I need to talk to my wife.”
“It's better that you don't. Right now, opening a second channel of communication would create a useless risk.”
“Either let me talk to her or I won't do anything you ask me to.” He gazes off into space; the weight of responsibility is so heavy that he can't feel anything at all. “Isabella needs to know. I need to tell her. I need to tell her that I...I'm going to die.”
2/VIII – Milioni di morti
His fingers fly across the keyboard.
John Dannington enters the office. Mario doesn't even raise his eyes. The frenetic rhythm of his typing doesn't stop. Letters and characters endlessly scroll across the screen.
“Why don't you take a break?” John asks.
“I can't.” Letters, numbers. The sequence magically appears in the hologram suspended in the air.
“Mario, you're working more than twenty hours a day. You can't keep this pace up.”
I can't let millions of people die, either.
“I know. But the suicide rate is falling. It seems as if the code's efficiency is decreasing.”
“I know, I read the report.”
Mario turns to look at him.
Does he suspect sabotage?
“I think I've made the right modifications to bring the rate up again,” he says, going back to his work.
John stays silent.
They sent him here to investigate,
Mario thinks.
“It might not be the code. The rebels have been putting out a lot of propaganda lately. But now it's easier for us to find them,” John continues.
They know that they contacted me. Or they suspect it. He's here to provoke me.
“We're still looking for Isabella. Some of our analyses show that she's affiliated with one of those groups. Someone must have helped her.”
Isabella! If only I had been able to talk to her. They must have discovered the secondary intelligences; they know about my involvement. John is trying to find out how far it's gone.
Mario's fingers continue dancing without interruption. “I'm sorry, John: I hit a critical point. I need to focus.”
“Of course.”
On the other hand, they still need me. They don't have any reason to think I'm not still under the nanochip's control. And there really is anti-DataCom propaganda out there.
“Mario, I'm going to have to ask you to stop. You need to come with me.”
Isabella is consumed by anxiety. She wonders what's going on in the hackers' lab.
It must have worked! I'm glad I trusted the secondary intelligences. They're in communication with Mario. They'll understand that they can trust me. Soon Lorena will give the order to let me go free.
She hears the sound of footsteps outside the door.
There's more than one person. It worked. They're coming to talk to me so we can plan the next steps together.
The lock clicks. Four arms throw a body inside of the room and close the door again. Someone with long hair.
Confusion, pain. Isabella's mind takes a minute to understand what her conscience won't let her accept. The body on the floor is in a fetal position, its back to her.
It can't be her. They took someone else as prisoner.
Isabella struggles to sit up on the bed. She lifts herself to her feet. The muscles in her back scream with pain. Staggering, she puts one foot in front of the other.
But those are her clothes. It doesn't make sense!
She looks at her chest, to make sure she's still breathing. It looks like she's dead.
She approaches her and turns her over. She gets down on her knees.
It really is her!
Her pretty face is deformed by swelling, bruises and two black eyes. She's covered with blood. Isabella gently lifts her up with her hands. She feels her neck pulse.
She's alive.
“Can you hear me?” she whispers.
“Y-yes.”
“Lorena, what happened?”
“Forgive me.”
“Forgive you? Why would I need to do that?”
“I tried to kill your husband.” She speaks with difficulty. Her lips, split in several places, barely move. “They tried to stop me.”
And it looks like they succeeded,
Isabella thinks. “Why did you do that?”
Lorena babbles a few incomprehensible words.
“Is Mario alive?”
Tears start to fall from the bulges covering her eyes. “I don't know.”
Mario, dead? No, he can't be! And now one of those nuts who tried to kill me is in control of the situation.
“Come on, Lorena! You need to pull yourself together. We need to be ready for when they come.”
2/IX – The interrogation
Mario stands up. He's terrified, but he tries not to let his emotions show. John calmly heads down the corridor. Mario follows. They reach a door and move towards the iris recognition device. Access granted. They enter.
It's a restricted area. Where are they bringing me? What do they want from me?
Mario wonders. It feels like they've been walking for miles. The white corridors are deserted.
“When you see her, remember that every single one of your responses comes from the impulses generated by the nanochip. Always keep that in mind. Don't give yourself away. We're almost there.”
Mario is bewildered. His heart feels like it's exploding in his chest. “See who?” he manages to stammer.
John responds in a low voice, without looking at him and without slowing down: “Look at her with absolute confidence. Don't falter. Or she'll understand.”
“Who is
she?
”
“DataCom. Mario, don't give yourself away.”
“John, why are you saying these things? Who are you?”
“The less you know, the better. Remember: your cover is more important than anything else. Even Isabella. We're here.”
John scans his iris again. The two door panels slide to the side. John motions for Mario to enter.
The room is circular, furnished with only two armchairs. Upon the first sits a very young girl dressed in tight white shorts and a white sweater, her blond hair drawn back, legs crossed with simple ballerina slippers on her feet. She smiles and gestures for Mario to sit down.