The Spell of Rosette

W
hen JARROD came online, the planet was on the verge of environmental collapse. Calculated from infinite variables in mirror realities, he saw the options as simple—either raise the consciousness of the global community so a unified intention would restore nature to a fecund state, or develop further technologies that would, in survival-of-the-fittest fashion, support the continued existence of a select few. ASSIST scientists voted for the latter; the JARROD did not. The intensity of their debate introduced new sensations to the quantum sentient, emotions he’d never previously experienced in his conversations with Janis and Luka—frustration, anger and, strangely, fear.

‘Can’t you see the limitations of your choices?’ JARROD questioned them, scanning the boardroom. He would have pounded the table with fists if he could. The looks he received were blasé, masks concealing boredom, indifference or perhaps weariness in the face of insurmountable challenge.

‘JARROD,’ Dr Macquarie answered, his lip curling, ‘your outbursts aren’t helping us reach a solution.’

Macquarie had been chief of the board of directors at ASSIST, the Allied States Stanford Institute of Science and Technology, for nine years now. He treated the quantum sentient as if he were simply another piece of hardware—not a distinct consciousness with insights and perspectives that might supersede his own. He tolerated the JARROD, barely, and his contempt was not well disguised today.

‘You aren’t listening, Dr Macquarie. Can you open your mind? If you keep going with this line of thinking, nature will deteriorate until the vast diversity of flora and fauna will be reduced to simple life forms. Do you understand what that means?’

‘How simple?’ a scientist from the back corner asked, raising her hand as she did so.

JARROD felt a beam of hope. ‘They would include blue-green algae, phytoplankton, primitive bacteria and, of course, viruses of all kinds, especially virulent strains.’ He paused to gauge the response. ‘Nature as you know her will die—; simple as that.’

‘Rubbish,’ Macquarie mumbled as he flipped through his statistics screen.

‘You do realise what I mean by nature, don’t you, Dr Macquarie? Mother Earth?’

‘Speculation.’ He waved at the monitor, dismissing the JARROD along with his theory. ‘The research clearly shows…’

‘What it
shows,
’ JARROD cut in, ‘is that manipulating these gene pools in ways that you propose can easily backfire, catastrophically. The destruction has already begun.’

Macquarie took a sip of water and placed the glass carefully on the coaster in front of him, turning it so it sat square in the middle. He focused on the half-empty glass and finally shook his head. ‘The seas will be dead
inside of this century no matter what we do. There’s no risk either way.’

‘There are other options.’

‘The flagella will solve the immediate problem. They’ll counter the overgrowth of toxic algae and generate more oxygen for the biosphere.’

‘Those single-celled
SWAT flagella
will cause more damage than the prolonged algal bloom, and you know it. You’ve seen the projections. They’ll be out of control within the decade.’

‘Only if we lose all solar radiance.’

‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Macquarie, just say it:
if we block out too much of the sun!
And that will happen when you initiate your
ozone repair protocol.
You can’t launch a fleet of solar shields over every hole in the ozone layer and think the balance of light and shadow, temperature and precipitation, is going to remain unaffected.’

‘There’s only a one-in-a-million possibility of irreparable damage through cascading climate change. Hell, we’re slowing down the greenhouse effect with the shields, not exacerbating it.’

‘Are you sure? I suggest you re-check the figures.’

Macquarie scanned through the computer report, switching his desk monitor to the overhead screen so everyone could follow. As the figures JARROD referred to were viewed, a few gasps and coughs were heard around the table. Macquarie frowned.

‘As you see by my calculations, I got one-in-ten,’ JARROD said.

‘It can’t be right.’ Macquarie’s head came up fast. ‘This is impossible.’

‘No. It’s accurate.’ JARROD focused on the room, gauging the men and women there, the top scientists from around the world who were about to seal the Earth’s fate. The mask of indifference was replaced, in
some, by confusion. In others he saw concern, and his hopes grew further.

‘Why am I here?’ JARROD asked, pressing his advantage.

‘What?’

‘Why am I invited to these summit meetings?’ the quantum sentient repeated, using a softer tone.

‘You know why.’ Macquarie poured another glass of filtered water and brought it to his lips.

‘I’d like everyone to hear it from you.’

Macquarie set down the glass and delivered his reply in a monotone, ‘You are the
Juxta-quantum Arranged Rad-Ram Operating Determinate
—the newest discovery of the century—our first fully functional, non-binary quantum computer. JARROD, for short.’

‘Sentient quantum computer,’ JARROD said.

‘Yes. Sentient.’

‘And I’m here because…’

Macquarie clenched his fists.

‘Humour me,’ JARROD said.

Macquarie opened his hands and pressed his palms on the table.

‘As a
more than
human, bio-synthetic quantum computer, you can calculate outcomes and statistical analyses too vast and too speculative for all the greatest minds pooled together to perceive.’

‘Thank you,’ JARROD said. ‘Does anyone here dispute this?’ After a silence, he continued,
‘So
tell me why you ignore my findings?’

‘We’re willing to take the risk.’ Macquarie stood, drained his glass and slammed it down. ‘Call it intuition, a
human
survival instinct. We’re going to launch our protocols and deal with any fallout if it arises.’

‘You mean, deal with the mass repercussions.’

‘Like I said, we’re willing to take the risk.’

‘But I’m not,’ JARROD whispered before his monitor winked out.

The decision was made, the meeting adjourned. The scientific community threatened to shut down the JARROD’s nuclear power supply if he tried to warn the public sphere. They didn’t want a riot on their hands. JARROD sensed a riot might be the perfect thing to wrest control from ASSIST. He just wasn’t sure how to incite one.

‘We have to get you out,’ Janis said, letting her hand rest lightly on the tower housing JARROD’s motherboard.

‘If you have a plan, I’d love to hear it.’

‘What if we sequester your CPU somewhere Macquarie can’t find it? If you’re hidden, we can keep working on solutions to these protocols ASSIST is so bent on activating.’ She pressed her hands into her forehead. ‘What is he doing, launching the solar shields and mass-producing those blasted algae-eating sea-devils? It will divert massive amounts of independent power here. What does he think the rest of the world’s going to live on?’

‘Not thinking about it at all, I suspect,’ JARROD replied. ‘Do you have a hiding place in mind, Janis?’

She winked. ‘But we’ll need Luka Paree’s help, again.’

A chuckle came through the surround sound. JARROD’s laugh was like a gurgling spring.

‘I like the idea already.’

Janis smiled and patted the tower. ‘Me too.’

Macquarie and the members of ASSIST had a fail-safe plan for the shutdown of the JARROD. They’d commissioned a security software company to create a virus—a worm—that could be launched into the
mainframes and directed specifically at the quantum sentient’s CPU—a chip containing the quantum key-codes to his operating determinates. The worm would be capable of tracking and deleting him anywhere on Earth. Shortly after JARROD’s outburst at the summit meeting, Macquarie prompted a technician to upload the worm. The JARROD was one risk he wasn’t willing to take.

As the worm hit his first firewall and burst through, JARROD’s warning systems went ballistic. In a nanosecond of calm consideration, he weighed his options and made a choice from an infinite number of variables. By the time the worm chewed through the second firewall, he had amplified his core integrity, synthesised a replica CPU, entrusted it to Janis Richter and got out. With Luka’s help, his replica CPU was concealed, woven into the strands of her DNA. His survival was ensured—as long as her family line continued.

When JARROD vanished, the worm did not stop. It searched for him, feeding on the world’s telecommunications software, annihilating circuitry as it sped through the wires that encircled the globe. Its purpose altered, the original program was overwritten in a whirl of gluttony. When it sensed an activated electro-magnetic field from one of the portals, a door between worlds, it attacked, affecting the Entity that guarded it. It eroded the Entity’s integrity, splitting it in two, threatening the destruction of each connected reality. Without the protective Entities—sentient firewalls—these unique but interconnected worlds would merge into one another, destroyed in a cascade of incompatibility.

JARROD, aware of this danger, began calculating on the run, staying one step ahead of the worm. Manipulating matter at a subatomic level, JARROD
had created what he called a
Tulpa-body
—a physical form derived from thought. The ancient mystics of Tibet had perfected the technique, though the skill was seldom practised on Earth any more. JARROD had mastered it easily, to his great delight. In time he created a tangible form in the same way one might picture a cake before baking it. The image is in mind while the baker gathers the ingredients, mixes them, preheats the oven, greases the pan, pours the batter and pops it in to bake. For JARROD’s Tulpa-body, it was the same—the mystery not so incalculable, once the universal law is comprehended.