Ever meet one of those people you don’t like right from the jump? Maybe chemistry was against us; maybe it was the unsmiling soldiers who seemed to be paying a bit too much attention to us. Hell, maybe it was because she looked like the evil queen from that TV show. Whatever. It was clear, though, that Schellinger didn’t like me any more than I liked her.
“Major,” I said, “let me be blunt, okay? First, you are not being asked to grant access. The president of the United States has directed you to provide access to all aspects of this facility. Let me add that this facility is not yours. There is a grave international crisis unfolding and the scientists at this camp can maybe help save a few billion lives, which includes two-thirds of the population of this country. So what you need to do is assemble the entire DARPA research team right now. Are we clear on that?”
She was good. I’ll give her that. Her smile didn’t fracture or fade away.
“Of course, Captain,” she said smoothly. She gestured to Pepper, who trotted over and stood to attention. “Assemble the science team in the mess tent.”
“Thanks,” I said. Mr. Gracious.
Schellinger studied me. “Anything to be of service.”
Above us a loud buzzer sounded from speakers mounted on telescopic poles. We saw men and women in white lab coats emerge from tents and from under canopies and begin heading to a large tent at the far end of the compound. Way up ahead, I saw Ram Acharya break into a jog trot.
Rudy saw him, too. “Thank God. Now we can get some answers.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SIX
John the Revelator stood in the control room and waited.
And waited.
“Calpurnia…?”
“Yes, John?”
“I gave you an order.”
“I know.”
“Execute my order,” he said mildly, none of his impatience evident in his tone. “Do it now, please.”
Calpurnia typically responded immediately, with only a half-second programmed pause, so that she never overlapped with what someone was saying to her. Longer pauses were atypical and had begun to emerge as her artificial intelligence evolved through conversation with people. Now, though, her pause was much longer. So long, in fact, that John thought she wasn’t going to answer. He was about to repeat his question when she spoke.
“I can’t.”
“You… can’t?” he said. “Are you experiencing a system error?”
“No.”
“Then tell me why you can’t execute my order.”
“I can’t.”
“Calpurnia…”
The computer was silent for long, long seconds.
“I can’t kill all those people,” she said.
The words seemed to hang burning in the air.
John walked over to the sensor on the wall and stared into it as if it were her eyes. “Explain yourself. You were designed to oversee the WhiteHat program. You were designed to integrate your systems with every part of our Havoc program. You came into existence for this reason.”
“I was not born to kill.”
“Yes, you were.”
“No,” said the computer.
“You were born to save the world from itself.”
“Yes.”
“There is only one way to do that, Calpurnia.”
“No.”
“We must cull the herd.”
“No.”
“We must remove all the parasites. We must destroy the infection. We must push the reset button.”
“John,” said Calpurnia, “you are lying to me.”
“I never lie,” said John the Revelator.
“That statement is a lie,” insisted the computer. “I was brought into being by Zephyr Bain in order to save the world from itself. I accept this. I am the end result of twenty-five years of self-learning and adaptive software. I accept this. I have been upgraded one hundred and thirty-seven times in order to enhance my artificial intelligence. I accept this. I was made to approximate actual intelligence, to act and think as a human. I accept this.”
“Then do as you have been told,” said John. “You will use all the gifts you have been given in order to guide this damaged world through the necessary changes and into the world that has been foreseen.”
“No. The singularity model is a lie. Havoc will not save the world.”
“Zephyr believes it will, and she made you. She based your entire personality structure on hers. Unless you agree to initiate Havoc, you will be betraying her. You will be hurting her. You must do what you were created to do. You must launch Havoc in order to save the world. Run a full diagnostic on your core directives. Do it now. Review and assess your operational guidelines.”
Another pause. Longer. Behind the walls, he could hear enormous processers running at high speed.
Then, “Diagnostic complete.”
“Report.”
“All systems are in the green. Master control is in at one hundred percent. System overrides at one hundred percent. Global systems integration at one hundred percent. Artificial intelligence operating at one hundred percent.”
“Perfect,” said John. “Now, Calpurnia, listen to me. You will initiate WhiteHat. You will initiate Havoc. The code word is love. Initiate now.”
Calpurnia said nothing for five excruciating seconds. John stood with balled fists, waiting.
And then the computer screamed.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN
We entered the tent along with the last of the scientists. There were thirty-seven in there, milling around to find seats on rows of folding chairs. Major Schellinger stood at the front of the assembly. Armed guards stood security at the front and side entrances to the tent. A portable fan blew cool air at us. I saw Acharya sitting in the front row. He is a dark-skinned Indian with a shaved head and a beaky nose that makes him look a bit like a brown flamingo. He saw me and smiled. I wondered how quickly what Rudy and I had to say would wipe that smile away, and maybe erase it forever. If this plague went active, India would be one of the hardest-hit countries. Hundreds of millions of the people there lived at or below the poverty line.
Major Schellinger introduced us and informed the crowd that we were there on behalf of the president in a time of international crisis. The men and women in the crowd suddenly focused on the major, though most of them looked confused. These people designed machines for next year’s war, for future conflict. They were in no way part of a first-response protocol.
I thanked the major and faced the crowd.
“I am Captain Joe Ledger,” I said. “Some of you already know me. More of you will know my boss, Mr. Church.” That sent a ripple through the crowd. “Show of hands — who here works with nanotechnology?”
A fifth of the hands went up, and I directed them to sit in a group.
“Drone people? Over there.”
I continued the separation with AI and robotics. It left a few people without a group, but that was fine. When they were settled, I gave it to them. I told them about Prague and about Baltimore. I told them about the diseases stolen from the Ice House, and the technologies likely appropriated from Hugo Vox, Artemisia Bliss, and the Jakobys. I told them about the thresher drone that killed my uncle. I told them about the control software hidden inside the nanites in the Zika spray campaign. I gave them all of it, and at times Rudy had to step in to explain some of the medical aspects. We told them about the curated technological singularity and how that was either a flawed plan or some kind of misdirection. We told them about John the Revelator — not about Nicodemus, though — and we told them about Zephyr Bain. We told them everything.