Artificial Absolutes (Jane Colt Book 1) Page 32

  “Adam!” Jane knelt beside him as he sank to the ground. “Dammit, Adam! You’re hurt, aren’t you? Don’t worry. We’ll get you help. You’ll be okay.”

  “No, I’m not…” His voice quivered. “I’m sorry, Jane… I—I swear, I didn’t know…”

  “What’re you talking about? Let me see!”

  Adam didn’t protest, but he clutched his shirt so tightly Jane had to pry his fingers off. She was puzzled when she found no blood staining the white cloth as she pushed it aside to get a look at his shoulder.

  What so distressed him dazed her, too. She blinked several times and shook her head, trying to fling away any tricks her eyes might be playing on her.

  Nothing changed. She didn’t know what to say, what to feel.

  Adam watched her, trembling. “I-I’m sorry… I didn’t know… I-I swear by the Absolute, if that means anything to you now…”

  His shoulder had been torn by blasts and completely shot through, but there was no blood pouring from the gaping wounds.

  Just clean machinery.

  Chapter 20

  Shades of the Past

  Jim X strolled along the seaside. With no family left, he owned the Thiel estate, which occupied the entire Diashin continent on Shimshawhenn. A vast network of underground tunnels connected his many abodes. Although he could visit mountains or canyons or forests or prairies on a whim, the seaside mansion was his favorite. The view relaxed him, especially at night, when the vast liquid ocean blended into the endless astral sea above it. The blurring of earth and heaven reminded him of all the possibilities best left unexplored, and it gave him a strange sense of relief.

  Owning an empty estate paled next to the might he had once wielded. Jim X stopped and sighed as he mulled over his past life, a life he didn’t especially miss. Once upon a time, he had ruled over the company inherited from his forefathers and mercilessly conquered new territories, daring to flout long-respected boundaries in order to push ahead. He had adopted the moniker “Jim X” because it lent him an air of cool rebellion even as he became the establishment itself. He’d lived spectacularly, knowing that whatever he wanted, he could have.

  Until it all went to hell ten years before with that infernal Pandora Project. Because of it, he’d been exiled from his own empire, banished by the very people he’d given power to.

  At first, he’d been livid. He’d spent the first few years of his forced retirement railing about the sheer wrongness. “I’m the victim here!” he would say to the hired help, who’d been paid to put up with such outbursts. “They took everything from me!”

  Jim X sighed again. I was such a fool.

  He’d always heard that wisdom was supposed to come with age. In his case, it had been delayed by the delicious authority he’d brandished. The talking heads in the media had regularly accused him of behaving like a cocky kid even as his hair grayed, of acting more like a newly risen star than a distinguished institution. He’d dismissed it as jealous backtalk or malicious attempts to undermine him.

  Eventually, the years had taught their lessons. Separated from the world of obsequious glitz and glorified sycophants, his mind finally caught up to his body.

  A salty breeze rustled Jim X’s hair. He inhaled deeply. Every day, I go through this. And every day, I come to the same conclusion: I am and will forever be completely alone. Why do I torment myself thus? He laughed cynically. Because I’m old and useless and have nothing to do but wallow in self-pity. And no one’s around to judge me for it.

  Six years before, he had dismissed all the human help from the Thiel estate. The robots that kept it maintained, the drones that delivered the supplies—all was done through the Net, controlled by nameless voices on the other side of a screen.

  He’d chosen isolation upon realizing that every supposed relationship in his life had been based on the desire to impress or satisfy him. Friends, allies, even mistresses he had confided in—all abandoned him when he fell. He had no desire to put up with more artificial smiles or bought-and-paid-for words.

  Jim X stroked his grizzled chin. I think I finally look my age. He’d chosen to cease the cosmetic treatments that had kept him unnaturally young, allowing his jowls to drop and his face to become lined.

  He trudged alongside the rushing waves, not caring if his shoes got wet. Walking certainly wasn’t as easy as it had been.

  His newest pet, a large, pointy-eared canine from Harir genetically engineered to be docile, ambled beside him.

  Jim X beamed at the gray-furred animal. “You need a name.”

  The first moniker that came to mind was “Revelin,” after his fallen ex-colleague and fellow victim of that cursed Pandora Project. Even though Jim X had never liked Kron much, he was still sorry to hear of his demise. Kron, Kron, Kron. Why did I listen to you? And why did you listen to me?

  Kron had driven the Pandora Project, but Jim X had made it possible. He’d even encouraged the younger man’s pride and nurtured his self-importance, turning a mere case of egotism brought on by too much brilliance into an alarming kind of megalomania.

  Nevertheless, Jim X felt no responsibility for Kron’s death. Kron had brought it upon himself with his own ruthlessness. He had created a monster and allowed it to run amok while harboring the delusion that it was still under his control, refusing to stop it when he had the chance.

  The only reason Jim X had survived the Pandora Project was due to his high profile nature and ability to let it go. But it’s only a matter of time before I, too, am eliminated. I probably deserve it, just as Kron probably deserved what came to him.

  Devin Colt, on the other hand—that young man’s unfortunate tale brought Jim X a kind of guilt he hadn’t known since he’d learned the truth about those programmer deaths ten years ago. Jim X had followed Devin’s story with intense interest from the moment the young man’s sister mentioned the Pandora Project on the news, shouting unkind words about nefarious secrets at incredulous reporters who speculated as to her mental health. It hadn’t taken long to realize Devin was being executed for a crime committed by the creature Jim X had helped spawn all those years ago. The reporters and detectives might not have listened, but to Jim X, it was clear what had really happened.

  The hacked internal defenses. The perfectly falsified documents. The erratic machine behavior. Others had dismissed it as the absurd ramblings of a desperate girl, but ever since she had uttered the words “Pandora Project,” Jim X knew she was the only one close to the truth.

  A majestic steel and glass mansion, one of many on the estate, rose before Jim X on the horizon. I’m sorry, Devin. It doesn’t matter now, but I know you were innocent, and I’ll have your death on my conscience.

  Ten years before, or perhaps even five years before, Jim X would have dismissed the notion of any of it being his fault. He hadn’t created Pandora, and he certainly hadn’t framed the kid. He hadn’t stopped any of it either, and across the silence of the years, the idea of taking responsibility for the fallout from his past actions dawned upon him.

  Knowing that an innocent young man had been murdered in the name of justice less than a day ago had Jim X heavy with grief. Poor kid. Go ahead and haunt my nightmares. I never knew you, but I’m partly to blame, and for that, may you forgive me.

  As though the spirit world heard his thoughts, a tall, white-clad figure appeared before the mansion, lit by its pale artificial glow and the silvery light of Shimshawhenn’s two large moons. Although Jim X couldn’t make out a face, he had a feeling he knew what it would look like.

  He approached, and that feeling was confirmed as he recognized the apparition’s angular features. Either the mystics are on to something, or I’m really starting to lose it.

  Neither fear nor shock disturbed him, perhaps because he was certain the young man before him was a mirage, a hallucination projected by a guilt-riddled
, world-weary brain. “Devin Colt. Are you here to torment me or to usher me into the afterlife?”

  Devin looked confused.

  “There he is! Finally!” a female voice said.

  Jim X looked past Devin’s still form and saw a dark-haired girl running toward him. He recognized her as Jane Colt.

  Jane stopped beside her brother. “Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?” She shot Jim X a hard glare. “Hey, Jim X. Don’t ask how we got here. Just ’fess up already.”

  Jim X realized the young man was not a specter and that his ghostly white garb was a prison uniform. His guilt lifted considerably. “I’m glad you got out. If you need a place to hide, you’re welcome to remain on my estate.”

  Jane put her hands on her hips. “Oh, that’s rich. If you felt so bad about what’s going on, you should’ve stopped it long ago instead of sitting on your nice little continent while shit happened.”

  Jim X shook his head. “It’s not that easy, but you’re right. I left and counted myself lucky to escape with what I had. Kron never stopped obsessing.” He walked up to Devin. “Tell me, is it true that you killed him?”

  Devin’s eyes met Jim X’s. “No.”

  Jim X nodded. “Didn’t think so. You had no reason to. She did. He was about to tell you about her, and considering what she did to get rid of you, you probably already knew too much. I take it you’ve come to me for answers, now that he’s gone.” He continued toward the mansion and motioned for the Colts to follow. It’ll be nice talking to people again, even people who have every right to despise me. “Come inside, and I’ll tell you what I know. It’s about time someone else knew.”

  Jane jabbed a finger at Jim X. “You’d better!” The newly named Revelin approached the girl with a happy pant. She turned the finger toward him. “Don’t try to butter me up with your fuzzy ways so I’ll go easy on your boss. I swore I’d beat it out of him if I had to. I don’t care how cute you are, I’m gonna see it through.” She smiled as the animal nuzzled up to her.

  Jim X pressed his hand against the door’s security scanner. When he entered his mansion, he was surprised to see a boy with black hair, wearing clothes too big for him, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor beside a large black bag. He was but a snippet of a man—skinny as a twig and probably barely five foot four.

  The boy put down the gadget he played with, one of many in the robotic domicile, and waved quickly. “Hi, Jah-Mex! You’ve got some awesome shiznit here, and I’ve been pokin’ around. Hope you don’t mind.” The half-smile angling his mouth exuded cockiness, but it wasn’t disdainful or rude. Something about his vibrant black eyes seemed pure. He reminded Jim X of an enthusiastic puppy.

  Jim X crouched to the boy’s level. “Who are you?”

  The boy tilted his head. “They call me Corsair on the Net, but my real name’s Riley. Don’t like it much, so I go by Corsair most of the time. It’s kinda weird being called my Netname in the real world, even though most of us Networld types prefer it. I guess these guys” —Riley jerked his head toward Jane and Devin— “conditioned me.

  “I gotta say, you’re the slowest walker I’ve ever seen! After I tracked you down, I told them to wait here because… Uh… You weren’t that far, but I guess your old people legs kept you from moving at the pace I thought you’d take.”

  I like this kid. It had been a while, a very long while, since Jim X had met someone so unabashedly straightforward.

  He stood and gestured toward the living room. “Please, have a seat.” A hint of excitement tickled his mind. At last, a chance to tell his story. Damn, the Colts are doing me a favor by “interrogating” me.

  Jim X entered the room, which had transparent walls and a high, vaulted ceiling. Someone occupied one of the gray armchairs: a young man with light brown hair in a white shirt, which was torn at the shoulder. The young man fiddled with a Via pendant he wore on a cord around his neck.

  Jim X recognized him from the news. “Adam Palmer. So you’re here, too.”

  Adam looked up at Jim X with a lost, melancholy expression that seemed to ask: Why?

  Jim X sat in an armchair while Revelin curled up beside Riley, who chose to sit cross-legged on the plush black carpet.

  “Let me start from the beginning, although there’s not much to tell.” A thought crossed Jim X’s mind. “Do forgive me if I’m killed before I have a chance to finish. I’m sure she’s been watching me, and after what happened to Kron, I wouldn’t be surprised if I, too, was silenced.”

  Riley stroked Revelin’s gray fur. “You mean by the Pandora assholes? You can chill. I took your house offline so no one can use the Net to off you.”

  “Good.” Jim X didn’t fear death; he’d come to accept it, as any man of advanced age with a known killer watching him would. It would simply be a pity if those kids came all that way without getting the answers they sought.

  Jane curled up on the long, gray sofa beside her brother, a position that seemed incongruent with her glare. “Quit stalling, you freaking lazy bones. Start talking or else.”

  Jim X held up his hand. “No need to make threats. I want to tell you. The Via say confession is good for the soul. Isn’t that right, Adam?”

  Adam looked at Jim X with that same lost, melancholy expression.

  Jim X had often pictured what it would be like to tell his tale to a captive audience. Let’s see how my real storytelling abilities compare to my imagined ones. He rested his elbows on his armrests. “So you know about the Pandora Project, but I suppose you wouldn’t be here if you knew what it was. It started about eighteen years ago, when Kron became bored with conventional programming tasks. He was so brilliant he needed extra activities to keep his mind occupied. Among other things, he began exploring the realm of artificial intelligence.”

  Riley flicked his wrist dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, we know that. Get to the part about the Pandora Project.”

  Jim X laced his fingers together. “BD Tech was never interested in AI development, due to the Tech Council’s cumbersome regulations. Although a lobbying campaign to have them lifted was discussed, the majority of the executives, including myself, believed it not worth the investment. Even if we could create a computer that convincingly simulated human behavior, there wouldn’t be much commercial use for such a thing. People have a natural aversion to anything too realistic. To put it colloquially, an accurate, but nevertheless artificial imitation of life is considered ‘creepy.’”

  Jane bolted up as though intending to protest. She bit her lip and leaned back again.

  Jim X wondered what she had to say and why she would take offense in the first place. “Kron was not only brilliant, but fast-moving and obsessive. He convinced me that given the resources, he could create a true artificial intelligence. I’ve always been the type to embrace the seemingly impossible out of defiance for perceived boundaries, and it soon became a personal obsession of mine. I believed the commercial aspects would fall into place once he succeeded.”

  Jim X sighed yet again. If I had a throne for every sigh-worthy thought in my head, I could buy the entire Wiosper system. “I did more than greenlight the Pandora Project, which is what we called it. I encouraged Kron in every way I could, fuelling his arrogance and madness. I knew the other executives wouldn’t approve, so the two of us were the only ones who knew the project’s actual intentions. Kron told me he needed help from outside the company. He pointed out that many of the galaxy’s most talented programmers are technically amateurs, and I gave him the go ahead to do whatever he had to in order to harness their collective brainpower. The company would clean up after him.

  “A little more than ten years ago, Kron introduced me to the galaxy’s first sentient computer. Even though I believed in the project, I was surprised at the speed with which he completed it. He told me he’d essentially put the pieces together in a way
generations of predecessors had either ignored or missed. The exact words he used were ‘so obvious.’ The computer was called Pandora, of course, and she was…” Jim X paused, looking for the right word. Unable to come up with a better one, he finished with, “Perfect.”

  “Perfect?” Jane arched her eyebrow with skepticism.

  “We thought so at the time,” Jim X said. “She was designed to possess human-like consciousness and machine-like rationality, intelligence, and speed—to be, essentially, the mind of the ideal human-computer hybrid. She could understand abstract concepts and form independent thoughts while calculating the most logical, efficient courses of action. I thought it fitting that she was made at Blue Diamond, for she seemed as perfect and cold as a gemstone.

  “But you’re right to be doubtful; she must have been fundamentally flawed. I was taken aback by her disregard for life and warned Kron to keep her confined. He wouldn’t listen, and he allowed her to access the Net. I didn’t think much of it, believing the only outcome would be to bring her more knowledge. However, she had been designed to learn at an exponential rate. She soon developed the ability to travel through the Networld, bend programmable machines to her will, and infiltrate any computer system in the galaxy, including BD Tech’s. That’s how she got rid of me. She didn’t want anyone knowing of her existence or recreating her, so she killed the amateur programmers involved in her creation. I have their deaths on my conscience.”

  Jane bolted up again. “Are you saying that No Name, that the whole Pandora thing, is a program? That no one’s controlling the machines? They’re acting on their own?”

  Jim X nodded. “In a way, yes. She’s a disembodied sentient being of incredible intelligence capable of being anywhere and everywhere thanks to the Net.”