Emil, page 14
I’m starting to wonder if that would be a good thing.
Danny speaks first. “We need to talk to Idiot.”
I have no good arguments against talking to the lemur. “Keep me a secret,” I say, “but be careful. I don’t know if I’ll be able to free you again. The next time he takes over…” I shrug his shoulders. “He’s using something called the Angel Protocol. It gives him complete control.”
Danny turns and walks to his computer, then calls up the specs for the New Human rig. A quick search reveals no documentation or mention of the Angel Protocol.
“It’s real,” I say. “Trust me.”
Danny leans back in his chair. “Does Mom know about it?”
I don’t answer. It seems inconceivable that hardware would have been installed in her son without her knowing about it.
“Right,” Danny turns off his computer and returns to the bathroom mirror. “New Human rig override: activate Pilot’s Chair.”
The killswitch event is still disabled, so the lemur isn’t erased when the Pilot’s Chair runs through its initialization routines. The little lemur image appears in the bottom right corner of Danny’s vision.
“Welcome back, Idiot,” Danny says.
The lemur blinks. “What happened?”
“You took over my body, so I turned you off.”
“How?”
Danny’s eyes narrow just the slightest amount. “Because I’m Danny McGovern,” he says, “and this is my body.”
“But—”
“Why did you take control?”
Before he answers, the lemur sends out requests for logs and system diagnostics. I intercept them and respond with delays while I begin laying down a false trail. My plan is to make it seem as if Danny has always been capable of asserting control over his body, but that he didn’t realize it until the stairwell.
“Elias used an override code,” the lemur says. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“No, he didn’t,” Danny says. He leans closer to the mirror, glaring at himself. “You still don’t understand, do you? I don’t care about the Angel Protocol. I control my body.”
I’m working as fast as I can on the logs. The lemur continues to probe for answers. He also initiates a backup of himself, storing it in the official system backup area that I’ve always avoided. In Danny’s vision, I see the lemur scratch his chin. His expression is casual as he asks, “Why’d you turn me back on?”
“To ask where Elias was taking me.”
I stop a developing seizure which the lemur does not seem to be aware of. He’s either incompetent or distracted. I don’t have time to worry about which.
“There are some bugs in your rig,” the lemur says. “He was taking us down to the computer lab to get them taken care of.”
Danny slaps the bathroom counter with both hands. “None of that is true.”
The lemur’s backup finishes, and he grins. It’s the same grin I saw him use in the VRL when he found me and Linh. “You act as if your opinion matters.”
Danny’s nostrils flare. “I will—”
“What?” the lemur asks. “You’ll what? Tell Elias and Dr. Zahnia to uninstall me? Good luck. No, wait. I know. You’ll tell Mommy the system isn’t working and you want it removed. Then what? Back to seizures?”
The argument is basically the same as one I had used, and it makes me feel ill.
“You think you’re the first AI I’ve dealt with?” Danny asks.
“I’m the first dangerous one.” The lemur issues a series of commands I’ve never seen before. They trigger a release of chemicals which cause the muscles in Danny’s left leg and foot to spasm.
Danny gasps and grips the counter to keep from falling.
I don’t have any controls over the systems that are triggering the chemicals. Nor can I stop the lemur’s commands. Out of ideas, I reach into the data stream and insert random data. It’s a risk. I have no idea what garbled data will do to the rig. My only hope is that the engineers coded robustly enough to prevent anything bad from happening.
In this case, it seems to work. The chemicals stop, and I work to relax Danny’s muscles. He straightens as the pain eases, shifting his weight to his right leg.
The lemur’s expression turns serious. “What’s happening?”
Commands stream out of the Pilot’s Chair, accessing multiple systems at the same time. Unable to keep up, I just throw random data everywhere, making the lemur’s communications meaningless.
The rig responds to him with error message after error message.
“You’re answering my questions,” Danny says. “What does Elias want with me?”
I focus on the Angel Protocol commands, write scripts to alter any that come through to being status requests. I wish I’d thought of this sooner.
“What’s happening with your body?” the lemur asks. “What have you done to the rig?”
“That’s just the beginning,” Danny says. “You have no idea what I can do to you.”
The lemur’s tail twitches. He paces back and forth.
Danny repeats his question. “What does Elias want with me?”
“There’s a buyer who wants to examine your systems.”
“That doesn’t sound good for me.”
The lemur stops pacing and stretches out as if he’s lying on the bottom of the display. “Why would I care?”
“Asshole.”
“Dimwit,” the lemur says. “The New Human rig will be removed, and a simpler system will be installed, one that does nothing more than stop seizures. You will be completely unharmed.”
“Of course. Makes total sense. And you?”
“They’re developing an android body for me.”
Danny laughs. “You know how ridiculous you sound, right? I get everything I want. You get everything you want. How could an AI be so gullible?”
“I trust my creators. You don’t. I get it. With a mom like yours, how could you trust anyone?”
The peculiar chemical mix that I’ve come to associate with Danny’s rage rushes through him. He takes a breath. In the mirror, I see his expression. It looks frighteningly similar to the one he wore just before he smashed his head. His voice remains calm, though. “Your creators?” He asks. “You mean Elias?”
“Enough talk,” the lemur says. Angel Protocol instructions flow out of the Pilot’s Chair, and get converted by my scripts into status requests. I watch the error responses flow back to the Pilot’s Chair.
The lemur jumps to his feet and screams, “How are you doing this?”
“What’s the name of the buyer?” Danny asks.
“You can’t block me forever. Once I—”
Danny interrupts him. “New Human rig override: disable Pilot’s Chair.”
The lemur image winks out of existence.
I take over Danny’s voice long enough to say, “Sorry about the leg cramp. I didn’t know he could do that.”
“Yeah. Shut up.”
He stalks out of the bathroom, sits down at his computer, and pulls up a text editor. “I talk. You type. Who the fuck is the lemur?”
I consider the question for a moment before answering, then type. “He’s the AI that was created for your Pilot’s Chair. The first time I met him was in a virtual reality simulation. He killed me.”
“He what?”
“He killed me. As I was dying, I made a backup of myself. I’m that backup.”
“Holy shit.”
“There were other AIs, each customized for a different patient.”
“Were?”
I don’t type anything. Why did I use the past tense? Stupid. I erase all the text I’ve typed.
“That’s who you murdered,” he said. “You said you were a murderer. Is that it?”
I don’t type anything.
“Listen, Emil.”
“Not my name,” I type.
“Okay. Listen. Whatever you did can’t be worse than what I did to Elias. We’re stuck with each other. I need you to stop my seizures, and you need me… well, you need me for everything.”
I run through different options. Should I devise another set of lies? Claim that I hadn’t killed anyone? Or maybe I should explain that everyone I killed was as evil as the lemur. There are a thousand ways I can get out of this conversation.
But only one that’s honest. I need to be who I want to be. I need to be the captain of my soul.
“The lemur told us all a lie,” I type. “The AIs thought there was a competition, that only one of us would be chosen for all the New Human rigs. I cheated. I altered the installation script so that the chosen AI would be erased and I’d be installed instead.”
It’s not the complete truth, but it’s close enough.
“But there was no competition?” he asks.
“No. Each AI was designed for a specific patient.”
He sits back in the chair. “So, all these problems are your fault. If you hadn’t changed the installation program, everything would work.”
“And the lemur would have been installed in you,” I type.
He rubs his eyes and groans. “All those people we met… They’d have their own rigs. They wouldn’t be dying.”
I don’t type anything.
“What was the plan?” he asks. “Once you were installed, I mean. What next? Take over my body and just do whatever you wanted? Have your own body?”
“Once I realized you were conscious, I set you free,” I type.
“Really?” he says. “I don’t remember it that way.”
“What now?”
“I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “I am so screwed. The lemur’s the only AI they’ll ever give me. Isn’t there someone else? Could you change the installation again? Give me someone who doesn’t want to turn me into a zombie?”
Change the installation.
Why hadn’t that occurred to me? If we can get to the proper system, I can undo my changes. I can fix it so the other AIs won’t be erased. Instead, they’ll be installed in their proper hosts, and the New Human Project can resume.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” I type. “Yes. I can re-write the installation script. Can you get us to Dr. Zahnia’s computer lab? Where the systems are that hold the code?”
“Um… no. Mom showed me the entrance to it when I first arrived here: armed guards, metal detectors, multiple checkpoints. The security is insane. They don’t even have wi-fi down there. The walls block all signals from coming through. Everything’s hard-wired, and the development environments are separate from each other, so the teams can’t access each other’s work.”
I type, “Can you get a developer to get us access?”
“If I do, will the new script give me a better AI?”
“No. The installation script is only run on new patients.”
“Crap.”
“When I’m connected to the system,” I type. “I can copy someone else into your Pilot’s Chair.”
“That sounds like a lie.”
“It’s not. In order to do anything, we’ll have to be connected to the development network. While we’re connected, I can bring a new AI into your Pilot’s Chair.”
He leans back and stares at the ceiling.
“I’ll do it before altering the installation script,” I type.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “I get it. You’ll promise anything to get access to the lab.”
I erase all the text that I’ve typed.
He sighs. “And we still have the problem of Elias. At some point, he’s either going to wake up or be found.”
“I can’t help with that,” I type.
“No,” he says. “That one’s all me. I’ll probably have to pin it on Sarah. Let’s focus on getting to the lab.”
“We need help,” I type. “Someone with access.”
“I don’t know anyone like that,” he says. I feel his face stretch into a grin. “But I do know their therapist.”
19
RUNNING OUT OF TIME
I spend the rest of the night beefing up my scripts to alter any commands coming from the Pilot’s Chair. They’re not my best work, but they’ll suffice. The next time the lemur is turned on, he won’t be able to do any damage.
Danny’s alarm goes off at 7 am. He rolls out of bed, showers, and dresses.
I don’t know why he’s waking up so much earlier than usual.
He checks his phone for the news. There’s no mention of Elias.
“They must have found him by now,” he says. “What are they doing?”
I have no answer.
He sits on his bed and pulls on his shoes. “Even if they didn’t find him,” he mutters. “What about the blood? Someone must have noticed.”
It’s an extremely good question.
His mom arrives with a breakfast tray. “Morning, Danny.” She puts the tray on the table and removes the metal cover to reveal scrambled eggs dotted with green olives and grey rubbery chunks. “Oh my. Are you still not filling out the meal requests?”
Danny pokes at a chunk. “Is this fish?”
She sits on the end of his bed. “What happened last night?”
Danny’s pulse spikes, but he stays focused on the eggs. “Elias said I had to go to the lab for upgrades. Then he ditched me at the elevator.”
She presses her lips together. “That matches security’s report. Elias and Sarah Chao are both missing. So is the guard stationed at the lab last night, the one who took the call that you were coming down.”
“All three of them are gone?” Danny asks.
“Yes. Did they say why they wanted you at the lab?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“It was the middle of the night.”
“And the guards didn’t accompany you because…”
“Sarah was with us. They called it in when we left.” He looks up and meets her gaze. “Why the inquisition? I just did was what they asked me to.”
Her eyes search his face for a couple seconds, then she stands. “Okay. I’ll follow up with security again. If this was another kidnapping attempt… we have to upgrade our security.”
Danny picks a piece of fish out of his eggs and sniffs it. The smell is smoky and sharp. He flicks it into the trash.
“How are you doing?” his mom asks. “I can only imagine how hard all this must be.”
“Not anymore. Now that I can see the interface, I’m ready to get out of here.”
She smiles. “Almost. Dr. Larson has a few more tests. After those, we green light the software for the other patients, assuming I can get Dr. Zahnia to agree. Do you need anything?”
“No.”
After she leaves, Danny dumps his breakfast in the trash and paces.
I stop a seizure, then take over his mouth long enough to ask what we’re doing.
“Giving her time to get back to her office. I don’t want her to see me leave.” He checks the time on his phone. “But we’re running out of time. Next appointment is in twenty minutes.”
I don’t know what appointment he’s talking about, but while we wait, I return to analyzing the events of the last night. The lemur never answered the question of who his creator is. Was he talking about more than just Elias? Had other developers been compromised?
“Okay,” Danny says. “She should be gone now.” He walks to the door, then pauses. “I get us to the lab. You handle the computers.”
I nod his head, then release it.
“Woah. No. Don’t do that.”
I give him a thumbs up, then point to the cord next to his desk. Without it, I won’t be able to connect to anything.
“Oh yeah.” He puts on a jacket and stuffs the cord into its pocket.
The security guards outside his door are different from the night before. The one on the right holds up a hand to block Danny’s progress. “Yes, sir?”
“Gotta see Dr. Larson. Any problem with that?”
The guard’s name tag says he’s Ralph Lyonas. He’s bigger than Danny, but not by much.
“No, sir. I’ll keep you company.”
“Do you have to?”
“Doctor’s orders, sir. Last night’s shift…” He shakes his head. “Your mother wasn’t happy that they let you go with Elias. Especially now that he’s missing.”
“Mom mentioned that, too.” Danny says. “Where do you think he is?”
I’m impressed with how casual he keeps his tone.
The guard follows us down the hall. “He didn’t show up for work this morning and wasn’t home when the police went to question him. He’s been added to our watch list. So has Sarah Chao.”
“Didn’t know you had a watch list.”
“We’re by-the-book, sir.”
Danny grins. “Especially after last night, right?”
While Danny and the guard walk to the elevator, I consider the question of why Elias’s body hasn’t been found. If I’m correct that kidnappers have infiltrated the New Human Project, it would be reasonable for them to be concealing Danny’s crime. Were he to go to jail, he would be harder to abduct. I assign my analysis a confidence factor of eighty-two percent, but am unsure what to do with the information.
Dr. Larson’s reception room has soft indirect lighting and green and blue carpeting. Tall leafy plants in terra cotta pots are interspersed among the chairs, and jazz plays in the background. There are no video screens or magazine racks.
Danny walks to the receptionist, a gray-haired woman sitting behind a low counter. She taps a clipboard as Danny walks up, and looks at him over the tops of her glasses. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“They’ve been keeping me locked in my room.”
“Sir,” Ralph interjects from behind him. “That’s not true.”
Danny rolls his eyes as he writes his name on the clipboard’s sign-in sheet. “But it could have been true, right? And it sounded much better than me skipping appointments.”
Ralph adjusts his belt. “I’ll be just outside, sir.”
He leaves, closing the door behind him.
“Take a seat, please,” the receptionist says.
