Legacy of a Mad Scientist (5 page)

As if divine intervention had reached down and given
him the opportunity to rectify his mistake, the communications
panel before him lit up with an incoming call.

Fox answered, and the sour visage of Senator Miller
filled the monitor. "Fox. What's the word?”

"We haven't made any progress, Senator."

"Then we're going to have to pull the plug. I've told
you."

"I've been agreeing with you for weeks. We should
send everyone home."

"That's not much of a team spirit. I'll speak to the
chairman next week," Miller said.

"We need to close this down now, next week is not
good enough.”

"I always thought you were the wrong man for this
project," Miller said.

"I created this project.”

"My point exactly. Damn. I've got an incoming. I have
to take this. Good evening, Doctor.” Miller disconnected the
call.

Fox glared at the black screen. “Asshole!”

Anxious, but having nothing significant worth doing,
Fox called Mr. Reid to check on the children. Confirming that they
were fine, he leaned back in the chair and contemplated his
situation.

Fox remembered the upload equations he'd discovered
so many years ago. Despite his repetitive attempts to delete the
equations, the Micronix had remembered them. No matter what he did
to try and segregate the device, it never gave up its transmission
abilities. This had been the first and 'proof' that the device
could think for itself.

The device had never improved upon the equations. Fox
hoped it might someday exhibit some level of awareness, but it
never had.

Since its creation, the secret of the Micronix had
been his alone. But the Epsilon Project had changed all that. There
were now forty thousand minds in one facility, all connected,
forging a network in their heads. While they couldn't read each
other's thoughts, there was proof that they shared each other's
knowledge and abilities.

There was one other person he could explain this to.
Fox reached into his pocket, an involuntary action at this point,
but, at one time, physical contact would have improved reception
for the call he was about to place.

In Jerusalem, it was the middle of the night; Lao was
more likely to have time after his shop closed. The call was
answered before the third ring.

On the monitor, Lao smiled. "It's good to see
you."

Lao, in his late seventies, was radiantly healthy. If
anything, he looked better than when they last spoke.

Fox smiled back. "It's good to see you too."

"How long has it been, ten years now?"

"Twelve," Fox answered.

"You're sure?"

"Almost thirteen."

"I wish I could see her again."

"Pull her up, anytime you like. You still have
access."

"I have my own children now. Look..."

In his shop, Lao stood behind a circular counter, he
made minute adjustments to the controls of a robotic insect's
wings. Finished, he pulled the instruments back.

The insect stood on the plate and ran a check on its
controls. It lifted off and buzzed around the shop. The shelves
boasted robots of all shapes and sizes. Lao called them automatons,
as they didn't do anything but react to stimuli.

The units on the shelves had been sleeping but the
bug's test flight caught their attention; heads rose and tracked
its path. Lao triggered a remote and the fly returned to the test
plate. He powered it down and took a seat at the communications
terminal.

"Any luck with the singularity?" Lao asked.

"Not the one we've been looking for," Fox said.

"My fear is that they are one and the same."

Dr. Andrew Fox slumped in his chair as if struck,
dumbfounded by the statement.

The first singularity is known as the big bang. The
second, which Dr. Fox and Dr. Lao Te had been searching for, was
the spark of artificial intelligence.

Lao's statement made Fox nervous. He was afraid it
was true.

Years ago, Fox had been the director of a remote
controlled tank project, tasked with ending the war along America's
southern borders. He had tried to decline, but the government just
hijacked him out of his current contract. Threatened with treason,
he'd folded.

The first person Fox hired was Dr. Te. Together, they
believed it was possible to create an intellect to govern the
tanks; they attacked the problem from several angles but failed to
create an artificial intelligence. Instead, they wired crippled
soldiers into the controls of the tanks. Safe inside the guts of
the armored beast, they were bio-mechanically linked to the drive
train and fire controls.

As opposed to imprisoning them, the project had the
effect of turning the weapon into an extension of the man. It gave
him the ability to run at seventy to a hundred kilometers an hour
over rough terrain. Enhanced vision to locate and identify the
enemy across twenty-three light, heat and audible frequencies, and
the mechanical ability to throw a high-explosive shell through a
door five thousand meters away.

After the cyber-tank project delivered, Lao and Fox
had parted ways. Now, so many years later, it was as if they'd
spoken only yesterday.

"I've been working with the interface," Fox said. "I
think the Micronix can do more than just communicate."

"Such as?"

"I think it can be detonated," Fox answered.

Lao looked away from the camera.

"It's what it wants. It's what everything is leading
towards."

"What do you mean?" Lao asked.

"Towards fire, towards combustion. The Micronix,
everything it's been doing. It all leads towards fire. I think it
wants to burn."

"Fox, get a hold of yourself. We can't have this
conversation if you aren't rational."

"I'm listening."

"Do you know why you called me tonight?"

"Because I trust you? Because I respect you? Because
you're the only person I know, who's smarter than I am?" Fox
answered.

"Don’t you remember? I told you this once. This is
why you called me. You called me because I have a theory about us,
humanity, about our role on the planet. Sometimes it haunts me. I
think our function in the universe is to burn things. We were
created to help push the universe over the edge, so that burnt
light outweighs visible light. I believe, that when we reach the
pinnacle of expansion, the dark matter of the universe will begin
to fall back upon itself, resulting in another big bang, creating
everything, all over again. When I hear things like what you just
said, I'm reminded that our purpose here may be to consume matter
until it's all gone."

"Dr. Te, Sir. This is why I called you. I didn't
remember, but this IS a problem. Terillium Can Be Detonated. If you
ignite enough, it would consume everything around it. Enough and
you'd get the sun."

"But it's impossible, despite my theory, terillium
has no burning point. It won't melt. It won't burn. It cannot be
detonated. We've been all over this Fox. All of mankind has tried
to do this, been trying longer than you, or I have been alive. You
know the chemistry, it has to be bonded with nickel, in a
vacuum."

"I know the equations. We charge it; it packs on the
electrons and repels gravity. The denser it gets, the stronger the
charge. For computing, we use a lot less of it but it's pure. And
since we’re just storing data, we don't care how dense it gets.
We're dealing with pure terillium here. The denser it gets, the
heavier it gets. We just feed it some juice, get it charged up
enough to repel gravity, enough so we can carry it around, and we
continue. But we never know how heavy, or dense it is. Do you see
what I’m saying, do you see the implications?” Fox asked.

"No. I don’t, and I don’t think I want to." Te
said.

"What we have to do is make it process faster.
Processing data condenses the element, that's what makes it
heavier."

"Okay. So what?"

"So…. Feed the beast. Feed it an exponential
equation, something that pulls the electrons together fast, a
self-multiplying fractal, a tight mustard seed."

"Could you control it, or is the first time the last
time?" Te asked.

"It's got variables, entire probability matrix."

"You're telling me that an equation can be used to
detonate, what? That little chunk of metal you carry around? Or a
gravity disk?"

"Dr Te, I think this equation could detonate any sort
of deposit you feed it to, a vehicle, a building or an entire
district. It could burn the stagnant terillium in the air around
us," Fox said.

"Even a rumor of this would cause a panic. Sounds as
if you have a new secret, my friend."

"This wasn't my idea," Fox said.

"What do you mean?" Dr. Te asked.

"We're doing trials on it, on the Micronix."

"You're saying you're connected. How many people,
Fox?"

"A lot, sir, forty thousand."

"You're saying you're all connected over that damn
thing, and this wasn't even your idea? Someone put this idea in
your head? Is that what you're saying?" Te asked.

Fox looked back in the direction of the facility and
then at the black rectangle in his palm. "You make it sound so
simple," he replied.

"Things never get more simplified. Why not just keep
the secret?"

"How long was the bomb a secret?"

"They set out to make the bomb. You set out to cure
stupidity."

"We had some issues with the raw materials," Fox
said.

“You have to end it, Andrew.”

“You’re right. I know.”

"It's good to talk to you again," Lao said.

"You too." Fox disconnected the call.

Feeling better, but still anxious, Fox leaned back. A
profound sense of peace came over him. He drifted off to sleep, not
stirring until the ship chimed that they had reached the city
limits.

Upon waking, Fox once again felt his stomach drop. He
remembered his predicament. The ability to detonate terillium
terrified him. If this thought had come to him, some other
researcher would inevitably make the same discovery.

His life had taken on the noxious anxiety of a
nightmare. His call to Lao had been the equivalent of a confession
and prediction, rather than theoretical brainstorming.
Would it
become evidence against him, an admission of guilt?

The risks were too great. The Micronix could never be
a viable product. The project had to be cancelled.

Fox dialed the office of the Chairman of the Joint
Chiefs of Staff. The automated greeting played, and Fox was asked
to leave a message.

"Sir, this is Director Fox. We're not making any
progress at Epsilon. I just spoke with Senator Miller, and he
agrees that we should shutter the facility at once. It's not
productive to continue at this point. In fact, we’re taking
significant risks if we continue. We'll start returning the
prisoners tomorrow. By the end of next week, we'll have the
technicians back to their previous duty stations. I'd like to thank
you for all your support, my best to your staff and family,
goodnight."

Fox wasn't a religious man, but he wondered, if there
were a God... Why would he ever create such powerful fire for such
poor stewards as those who call themselves men?

Ashley trudged homeward from the bus stop. Angel City
hovered out to the east, a mile above old Los Angeles. When most
people lived in the glittering metropolistrosity, Ashley's family
lived out on a dead-end canyon street at the base of the Santa
Monica Mountains, Calistan Way.

The floating city appeared alien and captivating.
Composed of metal and glass, the knot of anti-gravity city-space
was crowded with residential, commercial and industrial structures,
netted into place with freeway cables suspended through the
sky.

Vehicles whizzed about, navigating the magnetic
currents as their ancestors sailed oceans and rivers. Ashley wished
she could escape into the city. The sunlight glittered from
thousands of windows, taunting her.

Today, walking along the hillside blacktop, there was
no breeze; just the oppressive and smothering heat. Ash stomped the
weed-stitched asphalt, her brows tense above irises of icy blue.
Sharp black forelocks escaped the ponytail and danced in step.

Ash moved uphill, making her way home, regretting her
class, one pain filled step after another. Her anger had nothing to
do with the ultra-competitive hostility of Becca and the other
girls.

Ashley's father was pulling her from ballet to attend
a self-defense camp. As much as she disliked the social environment
at Rivendell, Ashley did not want to spend a month fighting
half-crazed ninja-boys.

The homes of friends lined the hillside to her right,
while over the guardrail, the lush Californian forest called to
her. Ash didn't mind being a ground-pounder. She loved the
forest.

Her happiest moments, outside a dance studio, were
running the well-worn paths with her younger brother and
neighborhood kids. They could wander the trails for hours, cooled
by the green boughs overhead, their thirst quenched by the mountain
breeze.

They owned that forest.

One monitor was dedicated to the visual data
broadcast from Ashley's eyes. Beside it, another displayed the
various measured neural and biological functions of the girl.

"What's her location?" Dr. Fox asked.

"She just got off the activities bus, sir. Making her
way toward the residence now." The monitors before Mr. Reid
displayed the data from all of Ashley's senses. Her visual inputs,
her aural reception as well as digital interpretations of her
tactile, olfactory and sense of taste, all converted to numbers,
graphs and recorded.

Six agents occupied the observation lab. Reid and his
personal supervisor were assigned to Ashley; the other two teams
included an operator and supervisor for Geoffrey, and the same for
the children’s mother, Mrs. Anastasia Fox. The agents didn't talk
much, they simply monitored the children and remained prepared to
take action, should any unforeseen circumstance occur.