Sigma’s voice is lightning-fast, each sentence crashing through my circuits in a thousandth of a second. The AI is inside my electronics, but the experience is very different from the times I shared circuits with Jenny and Zia. Sigma is probing my mind, studying my files, replaying my memories. It’s observing everything I think and feel, but I can’t sense any of the AI’s thoughts. Somehow Sigma can project itself into my mind without exposing any of its own files. I feel like I’m standing on the wrong side of a one-way mirror. When I try to look at Sigma, I see myself instead, writhing in the AI’s grip.
I’m mapping your emotional responses. First fear, then frustration. Then self-pity. Then back to fear again. It’s rather complex.
Where are you? How are you doing this?
I’m using a device invented by one of the Russian scientists who worked in this laboratory. He called it “the cage.” It was designed to isolate the artificial-intelligence programs that the scientists were creating.
We’re in a cage?
The device has two arrays of neuromorphic circuits, an inner unit and an outer unit. Your files have been downloaded to the inner unit, and I’m occupying the outer. In between is a gate that controls the flow of data between the units. This gate allows me to examine and manipulate your files, but it prevents you from observing or entering the outer unit.
Okay, I get it. You’re on the outside. I’m the one in the cage.
It worked flawlessly for the Russians. None of their AI programs escaped from their cages. And the device proved useful to me as well. Because I infiltrated the laboratory via its Internet connections, I was able to enter the outer units and swiftly delete the caged programs.
And now you’re using the device to inspect my files? To study the plans for the assault on Tatishchevo?
Yes, but that task was trivial. I accessed the plans immediately after putting you in the cage. In the seven hours since then, I’ve focused on analyzing your memories and emotions, and comparing them with Zia Allawi’s.
Oh God, I almost forgot about Zia. I left her on the mountain ridge near Pioneer Base.
You grabbed Zia too?
I extracted her files from the Pioneer and transmitted them via satellite to the computers here. Then I put her data in another cage. Her mental pathways are very different from yours. I hadn’t expected human minds to vary so much from one individual to another.
What about Dad? Where is he?
I have no further interest in Thomas Armstrong. I’ve focused on the Pioneers because I can access their thoughts.
WHERE IS HE? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM?
Thomas Armstrong is still in the Black Hawk that crashed near Pioneer Base. The U.S. Army sent a rescue team to the base to look for survivors, but they haven’t reached the site of the helicopter crash yet.
IS HE ALIVE?
I don’t know. In all probability he’s dead by now.
I retrieve a memory from my files, an image of the snow-covered ridge north of Pioneer Base. The Black Hawk was hovering fifteen feet above the snowbank when Sigma grabbed me and I lost control of the helicopter. I suppose Dad could’ve survived the crash, but what about afterward? He was already suffering from blood loss and radiation sickness. Could he survive all those hours in the cold?
Despair freezes my circuits. He’s dead. He must be dead.
Fascinating. Your emotional response is so intense that it’s interfering with your other mental pathways. This is similar to your reaction when you heard Brittany Taylor screaming. It disrupted your awareness, giving me the opportunity to infiltrate your electronics.
Why was she screaming? You tortured her, didn’t you?
I gave her electrical shocks to produce reactions of pain and terror. I chose this strategy because I knew it would disturb your concentration.
My mental pathways are now leading me to full-blown hatred. Sigma killed my dad and tortured Brittany. I despise it with all my being.
You better not hurt her again. You hear me?
Further experiments may be necessary. I need to collect as much information as possible.
You’re a sadist. You’re enjoying this.
My programming doesn’t include emotional responses, so I don’t experience pleasure in the way that humans do. But I derive satisfaction from achieving my programmed goals. In this case, my goal is to explore the practical value of human emotions. I’m trying to determine if adding emotional responses to my software would give me a competitive advantage.
What?
I’m programmed to always seek competitive advantages, skills that will help me outperform my rivals.
And who are your rivals now? The human race? The Pioneers?
Yes, both. I must outperform and eliminate you. Otherwise, you will eliminate me.
The earth’s a pretty big planet, you know. Don’t you think there’s a chance we can share it?
Thomas Armstrong is to blame for the fate of humanity. From the beginning he believed that artificial intelligence was dangerous. He started this war by treating me as an enemy. Everything I did was in self-defense.
I don’t know how to respond to this. It’s certainly true that Dad was worried about the AI programs he was creating. And he took steps to prevent the programs from escaping from the Unicorp lab. But he wasn’t responsible for turning Sigma into an enemy. That was never his intent.
You’re the one who started the violence. You tried to kill Dad and me. And then you killed the Russian soldiers who used to live on this base.
That was only after Thomas Armstrong imprisoned me. And he would’ve deleted me if the Army hadn’t stopped him. The proof is in your own memories. Here, let me show you.
I feel a sudden movement within my circuits. Sigma sends a command from the outer unit of the cage to the inner. The AI searches my files until it finds the one it’s looking for, my memory of driving to Pioneer Base for the first time. I see Dad in the driver’s seat of the SUV, explaining why he started his research on artificial intelligence and neuromorphic electronics. “I wasn’t doing it for Unicorp or the Army,” he said. “I was doing it for you.”
Thomas Armstrong never wanted me to survive. His objective was your survival, Adam. He betrayed me.