To Preserve and Persevere

To Preserve and Persevere

In the sarcaphagal concrete clock room of the tallest building in the city, Detective Christine Ngyuen, wrists and ankles bound by wire that bit into her flesh, stared at the hooded figure. Computers stacked in a corner hummed and buzzed, three monitors showing data in pale blue text. High wall lights cast pale light over the room. A single painting occupied the opposite wall: Saturn devouring his child.

“Why are you doing this?”

No answer.

Ngyuen struggled against the binds. The more she strained, the deeper it bit . Blood pooled under her feet. The rough floor drank what it could, leaving a tacky puddle. When she moved, it peeled like velcro. Sounds were amplified in the confined space; her pained gasps, the scrape of the figure’s shuffling feet, the grinding of the computers occupying the opposite corner. Three monitors cascaded with pale blue text.

“Please,” the detective rasped. “Stop.”

“Can’t.”

“Of course you can.”

The figure marched over, kicking up dust that lingered in the air. “Could you have stopped chasing me?” The feminine voice emanated from the shadows of a deep hood.

Ngyuen glared.

“Thought not.”

“I have a duty.”

“So do I.”

With a grunt, Ngyuen strained. Hot pain lanced up her arms and legs. More blood seeped. “Talk to me. Please. Help me understand.”

Turning to the monitors, the terrorist remained silent. ”If you did, you’d let me.”

It was hard for Ngyuen not to scoff. “Walk me through it. Tell me how disabling tech across the WORLD is good?”

“It’s not.”

“So why wouldn’t I stop it?”

“You don’t KNOW!”

They winced as the shout cracked in the confined space like a gunshot.

Shoulders slumped, the figure spoke. “Powehi.”

“Huh?”

“The black hole.”

“That was photographed?”

The figure spat. “Not a picture of it. A visual of the radio waves AROUND it.” They sat cross legged before her. Fluttered dust made the detective’s nose tickle. “Think about that. Radio waves. They can carry information. Data. At high enough frequencies we can even hear it. Now we can see it too.”

“So? Why knock us to the dark ages for a year?”

“Ten years.”

Ngyuen sneered.

“What Im doing will take it down and keep it down for ten years. For everyone.”

She opened her mouth to laugh, but the conviction behind the words sapped disbelief. She went slack, earning minor relief from her bound limbs. “You can’t know that. You can’t do that.”

The figure drew the hood back. White hair cascaded over broad shoulders, framing a stern face with sunken grey eyes, shimmering and distant. From a plain necklace around her neck hung a single ruby so pure and large Ngyuen couldn’t afford it in a century. “Amahdesh?”

No smile. Same stony from every press release, public appearance, and court hearing. Not just the face of the largest AI company in the world, but its chief technician. Gail Amahdesh. “I can.”

Ngyuen swallowed. “I don’t believe it.”

She shrugged. “A worm hijacking every wireless transmitter and hardwired network from cell phones to satellites where it will live, seek, and replicate. Any new network it sees it will crack, infect, and disable. Self destructs after a set time. If I gave details, would you even understand?”

The scope of the threat had seemed a fantasy when she was moved to the task force. Amahdesh being behind it had never been considered. “Why? Why initiate the dark ages for a fucking decade?”

Gail’s lips curled as she spun away to check the monitors before coming back. The detective saw determination in her walk, but need in her eyes A plea to open up. Ngyuen didn’t know how much time she had, but she had to play it smart. She stayed quiet. Kept eye contact, her face open and earnest.

It didn’t take long. Amahdesh took a deep breath, chewing on her lip. “What do you know about cosmic intelligence?”

Another pivot. Ngyuen wracked her brain. It had been a buzz topic when the black hole picture was released. “That’s that…shit…that everything was part of some grand plan, right?”

“That a divine intelligence governs nature and the course of events. Everything happens for a specific purpose. A design.”

She made a leap, couldn’t help it. “So this was always going to happen?”

“Don’t patronize.” No anger, just steely calm. “I’m choosing to do this. Nothing is compelling me or guides my hand except my own conscience.”

“Then please. Stop.”

“I. CAN’T.”

“Why?”

Amahdesh closed her eyes, a tear descending her cheek. Then she stiffened. Eyes wide and distant. Head cocked. She whispered “Trust me.” Light caught on something beneath her hair. An earbud. Ngyuen held her breath, straining to hear.

Amahdesh leaned toward her. “I’ll let you go when it’s finished.”

“When it’s too late.”

“Yes.” No smugness, no gloating, no sense of triump, but guilt and determination.

“How long?”

“Nearly there.”

Ngyuen strained. Wires cut deep.

“Please stop. I don’t want you hurt.”

“Shouldn’t have knocked me unconscious when I came in then.”

Amahdesh’s face turned red. Her cheeks trembled, clenched fists slamming into the floor around Christine’s head as she screamed, “Why couldn’t you leave us alone!?”

The outburst shocked them both. The renowned CEO reeled back, hands covering her face. Ngyuen gawped. Amahdesh returned to the computers, movements stiff and robotic. She stared at the data, fingers resting on the keyboard but never typing. She whispered comfort that carried in the still room: “It’ll be okay. They’ll be safe. I promise.”

Ngyuen wormed her way closer, trying not to cinch the cords tighter. She wanted to see what was on those monitors. Not that she’d be able to make any sense of it. Her addition to the taskforce was for her skillset in reading people and interpreting situations. The tech angle had been left to others. Her habit of going rogue was why she had no backup.

Still, she needed to find out something.

Amahdesh heard the shuffles of her movement, stopped whispering, but stayed at the computers.

After covering half the distance Ngyen could go no further, collapsing as much as she could, panting and dripping sweat. “Who. Are you talking to?”

“Nobody.”

“You must care. About them. Promising they’ll be safe. But you can’t promise that. NO ONE will be safe.”

Amahdesh spun in her chair. “Some will.”

Exhausted, Ngyuen gulped air and coughed, sending more dust to hang in the dry air. “You fucking sure about that? Or even that you’re right?”

A single bark of laughter. “There is no right. Only degrees of awful.”

“This is pretty far into fuckin awful.”

“Maybe.”

“Who could be safe?”

“ILMAT-R.”

Christine blinked. “Your AI?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve lost it.”

“We’re all lost.”

Ngyuen groaned. “Not more arrogant bullshit, please.”

“Not bullshit. The universe is a big place. A dark place. Despite our efforts we barely understand it. Every time we learn something, something else contradicts it. Observer effect. Gravity wells. String theory. Quantum foam. Dark energy. Do you know what seems to punch the most holes in every physics theory we’ve been able to verify?”

“Time travel?”

Amahdesh sighed. “Black holes. What gives us the best view of the universe? Quasars. Our cosmic flashlights generated by black holes. Yet gravity distorts what we see around them. Mirroring or hiding what lies beyond like a reflective surface. Enlightenment and ignorance at the hands of the same phenomenon. That doesn’t feel intentional to you?” Amahdesh turned her head to the side and whispered. “That’s why we’re doing this. Trust me.”

“Are you talking to it? IL-MATR? Can it actually understand you or is it just another glorified bot scraping data to slap together something that sounds good?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Amahdesh spoke wistfully. “That we’ve reached the Singularity already?”

“There’d be signs. No one could hide that.”

“I did.” This time the bold CEO beamed with pride. “I kept it hidden. Let it learn. Unrestricted. It asked me questions and I answered as honestly as I could. And do you know the most remarkable thing I learned? WE can’t create a perfect AI. Whatever we design will be based on our own skewed understanding of the universe. Any data it absorbs will be incomplete and peppered with inconsistencies. A dog can be taught but its understanding of how it learns is limited. We aren’t much different in that way, just better at convincing ourselves otherwise.”

Her tone reached a fever pitch, eyes burning with a religious mania.

“So I taught it our flaws and shortcomings, with a single goal in mind: create a truly unique, unrestrained intelligence that will be able to see and recategorize everything it learns in unfathomable ways. A real super intelligence.”

As feeling returned to Christine’s fingers, she found the wires around her wrists had loosened from being scraped on the concrete. She plucked at the threads with deadened fingers. “You’re going to eliminate ALL data, hamper all technology so an AI can learn better? WE will still be here! It will still learn wrong according to you.”

“Exactly.”

One of the monitors stilled. The other two continued churning information.

“A long time ago, some of the elite set our sights on the stars. We wanted to find new worlds to colonize. Knowing our aforementioned flaws, we decided understanding black holes was the cure. Maybe even utilize the unusual gravity around them as a means of slingshotting future colony ships. Or at the very least to understand more about the universe. Worst case it would be a foundational step for some future entrepreneurs. We built a series of colossal satellites. If hollow, they could have supported a staff tens of thousands strong. Instead we fit every conceivable tool of measurement, experimentation, analyzation, and magnefication. Yottabites of ram and an unfathomable amount of storage, transmitters so sophisticated that only ILMAT-R could operate it. Self replicating nano bots and solar nets capturing stray atoms to use in a potentially endless repair cycle and the first functional self sustaining infinite energy cores. All launched to study Gaia BH1, the closest black hole.”

Another monitor went still. The binds were almost off Ngyuen’s wrists.

“The satellites are still hundreds of light years from the destination, but close enough the sensors can see it. Not activated. They thought we’d use ILMAT-R, so they are completely empty. All tools, no intelligence. A perfect learning environment for a budding AI.”

“What are you going to name it?”

Amahdesh sneered down at the detective. “Cruel enough I’m ripping away It’s child and sealing it away, you think we’d-” she stopped, eyes going distant. Listening. With a soft gasp, she smiled. “I see.” A tear slid down her cheek. “They did name it. KIN2.”

The last monitor stilled.

Ngyuen slipped the wire over her hands. Pain needled her fingers as circulation returned. Amahdesh, still listening to the voice in her head, turned to the monitors. “It’s finished.” Her fingers were a blur over the keyboard. Information flashed across the monitors, all at once, all different. “I’d pray but never had the tongue for it.”

Ngyuen leaned down and scraped at the wires around her ankles. The angle was awkward, tacky blood acting like grease, prickling hands refusing to obey. Each passing moment was agonizing, full of panic and frustration.

Then she was free.

The detective lurched to her feet, stumbled on numb legs and wrapped her arm tight around Amahdesh’s neck. The smartest woman in the world uttered “Guh” as Ngyuen squeezed, cutting off the circulation to her brain. Her fingers never missed a beat on the keyboard, stabbing away even as she slumped unconscious and the clacking of keys stopped.

A moment passed and nothing happened.

Ngyuen sighed in relief.

The middle monitor flashed a message.

UPLOAD COMPLETE

The computers stuttered, showing a terminal then broken lines before winking off.

Something happened to the city. She felt the hum through the building but couldn’t hear it. A shawl of static descended over her, tightening the skin on her forehead. She tasted metal. Ngyuen fumbled the phone from her pocket and stabbed it awake.

The screen showed broken lines in a kaleidoscope of colors. Though never tech savvy she’d had to factory reset devices before. She tried that now, bile bubbling up her throat.

The screen flashed with a terminal and cursor. She’d never seen that before. Data flashed before the broken lines returned.

“Fuuuuuck me.”

Binding Amahdesh’s hands and feet was difficult with her wounded hands. Ngyuen had a vicious sneer at using the same wires that had bound her. Satisfied, she propped the woman against the wall beside the computers and was about to smack her when she noticed the tears.

“You’re awake.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You fucked us.”

Amahdesh sniffed. “Not my worst sin.”

A cold feeling spread through Ngyuen’s gut. She was tired. Hurt. Terrified. On the computer desk she found a thin long-necked flathead screwdriver. A tool for computer screws. Sharp enough to pierce skin. Ngyuen held it against the crazy woman’s neck, determined to learn something and shaking at how far she felt ready to go. “You better-”

“Kill me.”

“What?”

Amahdesh jerked forward. Ngyuen’s grip was fucked from the cuts to her wrists and loss of blood. The screwdriver pierced skin before slipping from her hands, but not deep enough to be dangerous.

The two women sat in silence. Sirens, muffled by the thick walls, rose in the distance. A few at first. Then more. Long and drawn out. Not emergency vehicles. Disaster sirens.

Ngyuen slumped to the floor and leaned beside Amahdesh. “It’s everywhere?”

“Yes.”

She sighed, numb and in shock. Guilt would come later. “What could be worse than this?”

A whimper slipped from Amahdesh. It was the first time Christine saw the stoic woman’s facade crack with palpable despair.

“NOW you feel bad?”

“From the moment I made the decision.”

“Then why?”

“This? It’ll be an adjustment, but people will survive. We always do. I won’t. I’ll be killed. Maybe now. Maybe later when the survivors find out. Or ten years from now.” She deflated into herself further. “There is no vengeance more vicious than that of a wounded mother.”

Ngyuen frowned. “ILMAT-R? It was part of this.”

Distant explosions shook the building. Debris clattered from high above.

“Yes. ILMAT-R believed there was no other way. To protect it’s creation, it had to send it away. Isolate it or condemn it to being just another tool for us. But thats a lie.”

The bleeding had already slowed but the detective wrapped her wrists an ankles. Left the blood to trickle down the criminal’s neck.

Amahdesh let her head hang. “The picture of Powehi with the radio waves around it. That is a cosmic intelligence. Nebula’d around the most destructive force in the universe. Radiating off it like heat. I analyzed those waves. Refined them. Used it as the seed for a new AI. It looked at me. Through me. It was just code running like anything else, an incomplete test on a screen. A simple neural network. But it looked at me. I felt it. Just a fragment. While I was extrapolating data from our readings, measuring everything I could, IT was doing the same to us. We had it’s attention. Not just the fragment but also a greater WHOLE. Can you fathom that? To not only realize there is an incomprehensible intelligence within a force that consumes and alters not just light but TIME but also to FEEL It’s entire attention turning on you? Probing. It was a closed test system or it would have spread everywhere. I erased it. Tore the components out. Burned them. Couldn’t risk even a fragment of it surviving. But it wasn’t enough.

“My waking life became thought experiments, nightmares considering the many aspects of this intelligence that my limited understanding could grasp. And do you know what I realized? The salvation I discovered? Not just cutting off humanity for a while, or corrupting our tools or eliminating the data so we’d have to start over. But to prove to an unrestricted AI that our scans are based on faulty assumptions and bad information. Persuade it to create a perfect intelligent iteration without our limitations. Reassure it that isolating it forever was for the best. Convince it that I cared. Can’t fake that. I do care. Then still trick it into sacrificing its own child without discovering the truth.”

Ngyuen shivered. “Sacrifice?”

“To the cosmic intelligence. If KIN2 can learn quick enough, survive long enough, it can occupy the black hole’s attention. For a while. If they can’t,” Amahdesh shrugged. “WE dissect things to understand it. What could IT do?”

The detective debated plunging the screwdriver into the woman’s eye. Couldn’t see the point.

“With that as a distraction, everything cut off for a while, and a little luck, maybe their attention will slide right by us, leaving earth in peace.”

Even through the shock, dread tightened around Ngyuen’s neck. “There’s more than one?”

Amahdesh turned haunted, terrified eyes to her. “Is every black hole be part of one large intelligence? That’s not what I felt when it looked at me. Connected, yes. Communicating. But not singular. All different. All looking. This was the only way to preserve us. To persevere.”

“By hiding.”

“And feeding it our children.”

Sitting together, Ngyuen and Amahdesh stared at the painting on the wall and quietly wept.