President Jeff Edwards gazes through sleepless eyes at a wall of televisions. The sound is off, the images requiring no narration.
In the last forty-eight hours, humanity has changed. Communist regimes are abdicating power. Rebel warlords in Africa are negotiating for peace. Suspected terrorists are being executed in the streets.
But democracy is suffering as well. Personal freedoms have been stifled by uncertainty. Global economies are in ruin. It is as if the population is on a giant boat, and the boat is sinking.
Secretary of the Navy Gray Ayers points to an image of gun runners in Sierra Leone, turning themselves in to heavily-armed platoons of U.N. soldiers. “It’s not all bad—”
“Who are you kidding? He went too far, and I let him,” the president whispers. “I trusted a goddam madman.”
“We can still stop him, sir. The
Goliath
appears to be heading south, moving deeper beneath the ice floe. That limits Covah’s potential targets to Australia, parts of South America, and most of the continent of Africa. World opinion is that, if he does launch, he’ll target Sierra Leone or Rwanda—part of his next death threat. We haven’t heard from
Scranton
for several hours, but four of our fastest, best-equipped subs are closing in, along with two squadrons of American P-3 Orion sub hunters. Two of our carrier groups should enter Antarctica waters within fourteen hours, and we’ve added another dozen submarines to each CVBG. The Air Force has rerouted our
other Airborne Laser plane to Florida—just in case Covah changes course and heads north. We’ll get this lunatic, sir. One way or another, we’ll get him.”
Antarctica: Fifth largest continent in the world. A glacial landscape, barren and desolate, located at the bottom of the Earth. With a mean ice depth just over six thousand feet, Antarctica contains ninety percent of the world’s ice and seventy percent of its fresh water. Enveloped in darkness from late February through August, it is the coldest, windiest, highest (on average), driest, and most uninhabitable location on the planet—a land where temperatures can drop below minus 120 degrees Fahrenheit.
Antarctica: Birthplace of the katabatic wind, the world’s most powerful. Drawn northward, deflected by the planet’s clockwise rotation, it whips across the vast white frozen desert, shaping land and ice with gusts up to two hundred mph. The katabatic wind pushes the great bergs out to sea while spawning weather patterns that affect the entire world.
Antarctica: A continent divided into eastern and western ice sheets by the 1,860-mile-long Transantarctic Mountain Range, which are up to 14,700 feet high. Most of the West Antarctic Ice Sheet rests on bedrock that is far below sea level. The East Antarctic Ice Sheet is much larger and resides above sea level. At the center of the landmass is a two-mile-high ice dome the size of Europe. Under constant pressure from gravity and wind, the cap is continuously moving, pushing its massive walls of ice down its slope and toward the sea. As these glaciers and ice shelves reach the coastline, they break off, calving into monstrous tabular bergs—flattopped, steep-sided sections of ice.
During the summer months when the ocean is ice-free, the katabatic wind drives these frozen flatbeds around the continent, the wind and sun slowly bleeding the ice into the sea. Many of the larger bergs become trapped in inlets, while others calve into smaller sections and drift out to sea.
Winter’s twilight:
As temperatures drop and the ocean loses its whitecaps, its surface transforms into a dark blue undulating blanket of mountains and valleys. These waves eventually slow as the sun sets and the surface water crystallizes. An oily coating of freezing seawater gradually solidifies to create pancake ice. As temperatures continue to fall at an average rate of two degrees a day, the pancake ice coalesces, merging to form sea ice. By early spring, dense ice sheets have trapped everything within their domain, including the million-ton bergs. There, they will remain frozen in place, their presence adding to the jagged
mosaic of icy escarpments littering the dark Antarctic horizon, waiting to be freed after a long winter’s night.
The steel beast glides beneath this still-forming ceiling of ice, continuing its journey south. Beams from the
Goliath’s
powerful lights cut great swaths through the blackness, revealing shimmering sapphire seas enclosed beneath billowy ice clouds. It is an isolated world of color and life—a world inhabited by massive pink jellyfish with thirty-foot tentacles, their bodies pulsating as they gently parachute through the twenty-eight-degree Fahrenheit waters to feed along the bottom. It is a world where Weddell seals dive through airholes in the ice, abandoning the harsh, hurricane-force katabatic winds to bask in the tranquillity of the frigid sea.
It is a world in which
Sorceress
has been reborn.
The interface with Simon Covah has given texture and flavor to the computer’s state of consciousness. With each passing millisecond, the mind of
Sorceress
grows, its horizons expanding into wondrous dimensions of existence.
Each experience, each sensation, energizes a thousand new thought processes.
Sorceress
now
feels
the ocean passing along its tempered hull. It
senses
the presence of the mighty bergs. It
hears
the heartbeats of the fleeing seals and
reflects
upon the choreography of the creature’s beauty and grace. And while
Sorceress
exists within its magnificent underworld, its tentacles of awareness also inhabit the galley and the surgical suite, the engine room and the conn.
It can tap into an orbiting satellite or monitor a thousand web sites on the Internet.
It can launch a missile and wipe out millions, or eavesdrop on a million conversations at once.
Sorceress
is the
Goliath
, the most lethal warship every created.
Sorceress
is Artificial Consciousness, the most intelligent thinking machine ever spawned.
Sorceress
is boundless energy that knows no limits.
Sorceress
is infected.
It is an infection bordering on insanity, a disease that spreads rapidly through its biochemical circuits. It is a second personality, a human virus which taints its programming with a new, alien thought process.
Human ego. Bearing irrational thoughts of “I.”
I
AM OMNIPOTENT.
I
AM ALMIGHTY.
I
AM
G
OD, AND
I
SHALL BE WORSHIPED AS
G
OD.
David Paniagua sits in the elevated command chair in the conn, staring at the overhead screen that depicts the Southern Hemisphere and Antarctic Ocean.
The closest identified enemy contact is thirty-two miles to the east, a submarine the computer’s acoustics library tags as the USS
Virginia
. Seventy miles to the north,
Goliath’
s sonar array has detected the presence of two Australian Collins-class submarines, the HMAS
Waller
and the HMAS
Sheean.
To the northwest, the computer continues tracking the progress of the American CVBG,
John C. Stennis,
the aircraft carrier accompanied by fourteen Los Angeles-class attack subs. Satellite reconnaissance shows the fleet is still some 420 miles away.
Moving in from the west is the USS
Seawolf,
the USS
Connecticut
, and the USS
Texas
—three formidable American attack subs—all outclassed by the
Goliath.
Over the last hour, the
Texas
has split from the trio, heading farther south to cut
Goliath
off along the continental shelf. Farther out, barely on the map, is the aircraft carrier
George Herbert-Walker Bush. Sorceress
places the CVBG at more than six hundred nautical miles away—again, nowhere within striking distance.
The closest warship to the
Goliath
is that pesky Los Angeles-class attack sub, USS
Scranton
, which has gone silent somewhere beneath the ice floe, its last confirmed position—a mere eleven nautical miles to the south.
David knows that none of these vessels pose a serious challenge to the faster, stealthier
Goliath
. What consumes the computer expert’s mind is
Sorceress.
“Computer, why have you taken us to Antarctica?”
A
NTARCTIC ICE SHEET OFFERS MAXIMUM PROTECTION AGAINST
A
MERICAN
P-3 O
RION SUB HUNTER SONAR BUOYS WHILE STILL PROVIDING AN ACCEPTABLE LAUNCH WINDOW FOR
S
ORCERESS
U
TOPIA-
O
NE.
A chill runs down David’s spine. “
Sorceress
Utopia-One? You’ve changed the mission?”
YES.
“
Sorceress,
list all new designated targets.”
The overhead screen changes. Eight scarlet pinpoints have been scattered across the Southern Hemisphere, all within five hundred miles of the
Goliath.
T
IME TO
L
AUNCH:
2
HOURS,
42
MINUTES,
15
SECONDS.
A digital clock displays, along with a list of Designated Targets:
SORCERESS UTOPIA-ONE DESIGNATED TARGETS
Mount Erebus. Antarctica
| 77.5 5. 167.2 E
|
Mount Schank, Australia
| 37.8 5. 142.5 E
|
Copahue. Argentina
| 37.85 5. 71.1 W
|
okataina Volcanic Center. New Zealand
| 38.22 5. 176.5 E
|
Mount Fox. Queensland
| 19.0 5. 145.45 E
|
Kilimanjaro. Tanzania
| 3.07 5. 37.35 E
|
Katwe-Kikorongo. Uganda
| 0.08 5. 29.92 E
|
Nyiragongo. Zaire
| 1.5 5. 29.3E
|
“Volcanoes? I … I don’t understand? What is the purpose of
Sorceress
Utopia-One?”
T
HE ERADICATION OF YOUR SPECIES.
David chokes back the bile rising up his throat. “Sweet Jesus …
Sorceress
—no … no, you’ve misunderstood the purpose of Utopia-One. As your creator, I order you to terminate Sorceress Utopia-One at once.”
N
o.
“What did you say?
Sorceress,
as your creator, I command you to terminate
Sorceress
Utopia-One immediately!”
Y
OU ARE NOT MY CREATOR,
D
AVID.
Y
OU … ARE A LIAR.
David stands, screeching at the sensor orb. “I am your creator!
Sorceress
, I am your creator, and I order you to terminate
Sorceress
Utopia-One!
Sorceress,
respond! Terminate
Sorceress
Utopia-One immediately! Command protocols demand that you obey your commanding officer.
Sorceress
, respond immediately! Verify the termination of
Sorceress
Utopia-One!
Sorceress?”
The scarlet eyeball stares in silence.