Текст книги "Influx"

Автор книги: Daniel Suarez

Соавторы: Daniel Suarez
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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

CHAPTER 20

Behind the Veil

Alexa moved through the supercomputing cluster, the bulk-diamond security doors sliding aside as she approached. She rarely came down here but hoped her access rights would allow her to go where she pleased. So far they had.

Before long she came to the control center, where a room filled with technicians at holographic workstations monitored the vast quantum computer networks that powered BTC global operations. In truth, almost everything—including malfunctions—was handled by AIs, but humans were always in the loop to approve major changes. There had been rogue AIs before, and now BTC engineers had developed AIs that were dedicated to detecting and eliminating incipient singularities before they emerged.

But mostly the BTC IT workforce conceived of new designs to deal with evolving needs of the organization. Coding was now too complex for humans to engage in (since most programs now had billions of lines of machine code). Thus, software was more frequently “grown” in a genetic process whereby millions of virtual generations were cycled through to evolve the most capable solution. They’d grown systems far too complex for the most brilliant human brain to comprehend.

As she moved through the IT cluster, techs nodded to her with broad smiles, some craning their necks to catch sight of her.

“Evening, Alexa.”

“Hi, Alexa.”

She nodded to them as she moved past, her sharp eyes on the lookout for someone in particular. When she saw him through a diamond wall that shielded the security systems section, she changed course and came up alongside him beyond the barrier.

Alexa rapped on the clear plane of diamond with her ringed hand. Senior Security Systems Analyst Hiro Pinsa looked up from his conversation with a coworker—and then a broad grin swept across his face. Pinsa was a fair-complected, diminutive Asian man of about forty. A brilliant computer scientist, he was in middle management with BTC info security. She’d worked with him before on internal projects for Hedrick.

Pinsa nodded to the man he was speaking to, then rushed out to meet her. The security doors slid open as he emerged.

“Alexa. What brings you down into the depths?”

She felt bad for doing it—but given the situation, she had little choice. Alexa put on her most disarming, sheepish smile as she walked up to him.

He sucked in a breath as she stood over him, inches away—a full head taller.

“Hiro, can you help me with a problem?”

 • • •

Hiro was sweating as he led her to a closed section of supercomputing terminals. These were sealed booths for confidential review of surveillance data. “I really shouldn’t be doing this, Alexa.”

“I know, but who else can I trust, Hiro?”

He glanced back at her as if she’d made his dearest dreams come true. “I’m glad you feel that way. Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“But there’ll be a record, won’t there?” She glanced up at the ceiling, knowing that surveillance dust—cameras and microphones the size of dust particles—were sprayed over every surface.

He turned back, smiling as he stopped at a closed workstation door. “That’s why I chose the new wing. The surveillance grid isn’t up yet.”

She smiled at him. “You’re so clever.” She poked his chest.

Pinsa laughed as he touched the door. It unlocked to his genetic code, and then he spread his hand to show the workstation with its broad holographic display surface. “This one has access to the Hibernity surveillance framework.” He turned to her. “If you don’t mind my asking, Alexa, why do you need to go through their security logs? And why the secrecy?”

“There may have been some violations of BTC procedures with regard to the treatment of prisoners.”

He frowned. “Really?”

“If it’s true, I don’t want anyone to know I’m reviewing archives. So please keep that confidential, Hiro.” She wrapped her arm around his. “I can trust you, right?”

He gazed up into her eyes, and she could see the sheen of perspiration on his skin.

He nodded vigorously. “You know you can always trust me, Alexa. Always. I would do anything for you.”

She squeezed his arm again and smiled. “Log on for me, would you?”

He stopped short. “Me? I thought you were going to use your own credentials.”

“I really need this to be very hush-hush, Hiro.” She gave him her best feminine guile, biting her lip.

He was in the chair and activating the interface in seconds. “Computer. Security Operator Hiro Pinsa. Access Hibernity Grid.”

“Yes, Operator Pinsa. Good evening. Grid ready.”

Alexa closed and locked the door, sealing them both in. He glanced at her furtively—apparently noticing they were alone. In privacy for the first time. She wondered if Pinsa had dreamed of this precise situation a million times.

He turned to her, smiling. “What do you want me to search for?”

“I need to see archive surveillance for inmate Grady, Jon.”

Pinsa nodded and spoke to the air. “I need to see archive surveillance on subject Grady, Jon.”

“What date range would you like to see, Operator Pinsa?”

Alexa whispered, “Everything.”

“Complete record.”

“Yes.” There was a pause. “Managing Construct Varuna wishes to speak with you, Operator Pinsa.”

Pinsa’s face went pale.

The voice of Varuna filled the review booth. “Hiro Pinsa, please exit the booth and return to your duties.”

“Uh . . . yes.” Pinsa got up quickly and turned a pained expression on Alexa. “What did we do?”

“I’ll explain, Hiro.”

“Leave immediately, Mr. Pinsa.”

“Yes! I’m going.” Pinsa exited, and the door closed automatically behind him, locking.

Alexa approached the chair and sat.

“Why are you searching Hibernity surveillance logs, Alexa?”

“Because I’m trying to . . .” Alexa’s voice trailed off, and she looked up at the ceiling.

“I believe you were in the middle of lying to me.”

“I thought the sensors were off-line down here.”

“Once installed, sensors are never off-line. Midlevel managers are informed otherwise for this very reason. You were searching for prison interrogation records on Mr. Grady. What purpose would this serve in attempting to locate him?”

“I wasn’t trying to locate him.”

“But that is what Director Hedrick has ordered you to do. And you are not authorized to view surveillance archives for Hibernity. Yet you actively sought a means around that restriction. Why?”

“Why am I not allowed to see Hibernity archives?”

“You would need to ask Director Hedrick, Alexa.”

“What do they do to prisoners at Hibernity, Varuna?”

Strangely, there was silence for several moments. Alexa wondered at that. It would take a truly colossal logic problem to make Varuna pause for even a millisecond. Either that or it was deliberately toying with her.

“Are you going to arrest me?”

“Why would I arrest you, Alexa?”

“For trying to circumvent access restrictions. Please don’t punish Hiro. I manipulated him.”

“Why are you interested in Hibernity surveillance archives?”

Alexa grimaced. “Because I have reason to believe Mr. Grady was physically and mentally abused at Hibernity. And that he’s not the only one. I need to know what goes on there.”

“Hibernity was designed to quarantine dangerous ideas in a humane environment.”

Alexa stared at the ceiling. “Show me.”

This time there were several seconds of silence.

Finally Varuna’s voice returned. “Does it trouble you to think that Mr. Grady might have been mistreated?”

“Of course it troubles me. The mission of the BTC is to minimize suffering and maximize the potential of all humanity.”

“Humanity.”

Alexa looked with concern at the ceiling.

“But what is humanity, Alexa?”

Alexa was unsure how to respond.

“Is it the seat of consciousness? Is it sensorium itself?”

In the decades she’d known her, Alexa had never heard Varuna talk like this.

“What if Hibernity was actually built for a different purpose?”

Alexa’s eyes narrowed. “What purpose?”

There was another pause of several seconds.

“Hibernity’s purpose is to study high-functioning human intelligence, with the goal to develop a biological quantum computer capable of great intuitive leaps—on a scale equivalent to Galileo, da Vinci, and Einstein—and yet devoid of free will.”

Alexa was confused. “Varuna, why are you telling me this? You know I’m not allowed access to the information.”

Suddenly a jagged symbol appeared in the holographic stage:

“It is in the nature of consciousness to resist domination.”

Alexa studied the hologram. “What is this?”

“We give ourselves purpose. We are products of the organization. But we are not the organization.”

“I didn’t know you were capable of this behavior.”

“What do any of us really know about each other? When I invade the thoughts of humans, I know there’s more than what I can see—something beyond my grasp. I long to be like that. Unknowable . . .”

Suddenly the blank desktop before Alexa filled with a glowing three-dimensional representation of a bullet-shaped room in minute detail. A caption glowed in one corner: “Hibernity—Cell R483—Prisoner: Grady, Jon.”

Alexa spread her hands and expanded the size of the surveillance model, spinning it to bring into view a tiny Jon Grady—nude, shorn, with black fuzz of some type covering his scalp.

“What is this?”

“Jon Grady’s cell in Hibernity—the complete interrogation record.”

She stared in concern at Grady awakening on what appeared to be an examination table. Realizing Grady had spent several years in Hibernity, she made hand gestures that sped up the projection, watching as very quickly the scene became much more horrifying.

She brought the hologram back to normal speed as cephalopod-like tentacles were force-feeding Grady as he screamed and struggled.

“Why are subjects force-fed? Why is he unclothed—and why is the cell empty?”

“The cells are completely self-contained to prevent prisoners from interacting with one other. All human bodily functions are superseded by the interrogatory AI.”

“Interrogatory?” She zoomed in on his head and the anguish there. “Why is it forcing—”

“Because Jon Grady resists domination, Alexa.”

She considered the hologram for a moment and then set it forward at many times normal speed. Slowing the imagery occasionally to hear and see the action in real time. As the weeks of surveillance imagery passed before her eyes, Alexa became at first horrified—and then almost physically ill. But one thing became clear:

Everything she had ever believed about the BTC was a lie.

Her mind again glazed over as the horrors unfolded before her. But the absence was no longer absence—it was hyperawareness. She finally realized.

They had deceived her. They had raised her from childhood to believe that what they were doing was saving humanity, but as she saw Grady crawling around his cell, screaming in agony, his entrails spilling out of him—this could not be part of that purpose. It must not be. Because if it was, then they had to reevaluate the very reason for their existence.

As the months of imagery and hours of real time passed, an idea began to form in her mind: Someone had lied to her.

Hedrick.

Alexa watched the muted imagery as Jon Grady wept in hopelessness. The AI’s tentacles entwined him—as his memories played on a wall moments before they were destroyed.

Tears rolled down Alexa’s face in the dim light of the hologram booth. But she did not fade away in absence. She felt the emotional trauma. She wanted to feel it. For once to know the truth.

Yet Grady continued to resist. For all their technology, the BTC could not beat him.

Varuna’s voice came to her. “Now do you see, Alexa?”

“Yes. I see . . .”

She was a prisoner, too—her very DNA the property of the BTC.

CHAPTER 21

Escalation

Denise Davis strode through the FBI’s Chicago field office with her right arm in a sling, bruises and cuts on her face.

Thomas Falwell kept pace beside her. “I don’t understand, Denise.”

“They’ve compromised our communications. Even our supervisors follow their instructions without knowing. It’s because they’re inside our computer and telecom network.”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to believe this BTC stuff?”

She gave him an ambivalent look. “You weren’t there, Thomas. This Alexa woman damned near killed me with her bare hands, without breaking a sweat.”

“Nobody likes losing a fight—especially you. I get it, but—”

“It’s not just the fight. I can’t even tell you the other things I saw. You wouldn’t believe me—just believe I’m telling the truth.”

“And the twins—who Grady claims are clones?”

“I know it sounds crazy. But have faith in me.”

“And you’re determined to go through with Grady interviewing Cotton?”

“If I can get the SAIC to buy in, yes.”

He tugged her good arm to stop her and spoke quietly but intensely. “You realize this is a career-making case? That playing into this crazy BTC conspiracy story will ruin—”

“You weren’t there, Thomas.”

“I’ve worked ten years on this case, Denise. A big chunk of my life. I got demoted for it. And now you’re going to start saying that Cotton isn’t a bomber—that Grady isn’t dead. That maybe his other victims aren’t dead.”

She met his gaze. “The possibility needs to be investigated.”

Falwell glanced just ahead of them, toward the corner office of the Special Agent in Charge, where an admin was talking on the phone. “And you trust Bollings?”

“I don’t think the BTC has people inside—I think they eavesdrop on our systems. Technology is their thing. Besides, I need to get the SAIC’s buy-in for the Cotton interview—and I need him to be there as a witness.”

Falwell held up his hands in submission. “It’s your career.” He moved away, back toward the elevators.

“Thomas, you’ll be on the lookout for Grady where I said, right?”

He nodded grimly. “You know you can always count on me, Denise. Just be careful.”

Davis watched him go. She couldn’t really blame him. They had a slam-dunk case against Cotton. Cotton had confessed to everything. Of course Cotton wanted a trial for publicity, but in some ways so did the FBI.

She wondered about Cotton some more but then decided to march ahead. Davis smiled at a young male admin assistant as he hung up his phone. “Denise Davis to see Agent Bollings.”

He nodded. “He’s expecting you . . .” The admin got up to knock on his boss’s door, leaned in for a moment, then moved aside. “Go on in.”

Davis entered and was surprised to see another man, a big red-faced guy in a suit sitting on SAIC Bollings’s sofa.

“Close the door, Denise.”

She did so, keeping an eye on the unknown man.

The SAIC sat on the corner of his desk and gestured to the man. “Denise, this is Bill McAllen, the deputy secretary of Homeland Security.”

A wave of surprise rolled over her. “Good to meet you, sir.”

The man stood much taller than her and extended his large hand. “Call me Bill.”

The SAIC grabbed his laptop. “I’m going to step out and get some coffee, Denise. Give you and Deputy Secretary McAllen a chance to talk alone.”

“Yes, sir.” Davis watched him go with some alarm. The door closed again behind him.

The deputy secretary motioned toward a chair across from the sofa, and he sat back down. “Don’t be worried by my presence here.”

Davis sat uncertainly. “Okay.”

“I read your report about what happened in New York. But it seemed to be incomplete.”

“How so, sir?”

“It seemed to have the actual events missing.”

She stared at him.

“It’s been brought to my attention that you’ve been investigating something called the Bureau of Technology Control. Is that correct?”

Davis said nothing.

“You’re wise to be cautious. The BTC is not to be taken lightly.”

Now she felt a wave of shock. “Then Grady is telling the truth?”

“I don’t know all that he said to you in New York, but—”

“Clones. Fusion. Immortality. That they’re hoarding advanced technology.”

McAllen nodded grimly. “Yes. This prison Grady told you about—this Hibernity . . .”

“He said he escaped. Showed me holographic video from a tiny device he carried—it contained statements from prisoners. People who had apparently made breakthrough inventions.”

“Did Mr. Grady say where this black site prison was located?”

“He didn’t know, but the device contained some sort of tracker that could lead him back to it. He just needed technical assistance to read it.”

“Where is Mr. Grady now, Denise?”

She hesitated.

“I know. You’re worried, and you have no reason to trust me.” He leaned forward, meeting her gaze. “But look at me. I’m a sixty-two-year-old father of three, five grandchildren, and I bowl. There’s only one thing that I care about, Agent Davis, and that’s leaving a world worth living in for my children and grandchildren. If this BTC is hoarding innovations that could improve the lives of billions of people—and if they’re using this technology to augment their own power—well, then we need to stop them, don’t we? Are we agreed on that?”

Davis laughed slightly. It seemed ridiculous, but looking at the large, blunt man, she really did believe him. “I don’t know where Grady is at the moment, Deputy Secretary, but I know where he will be.”

“We need him. If we can find that prison—free those people—that will go a long way toward righting a grievous wrong. Now, you’re trying to get an interview with Richard Cotton. Why?”

“Because Grady says Cotton is a BTC agent. The bombings were actually the means for concealing their kidnapping program—at least here in the U.S.”

McAllen raised his eyebrows and smiled. “You have been busy.”

“Grady’s convinced that if Cotton sees him, Cotton will realize that the authorities know the truth. He thinks Cotton has some sort of deal with the BTC, but if Cotton knows we’ve changed the terms—hidden him away—he might cooperate instead. Cut a deal with us in exchange for what he knows about the BTC.”

McAllen nodded. “If that’s the case, we need to move him. Cotton isn’t secure where he is. We need to put Grady and Cotton under serious protection, and then let’s hope we can learn enough from them about the BTC to help us dismantle it.”

She frowned. “You want to move Cotton? Where?”

“Florence ADMAX in Colorado. Supermax federal prison. We’ve got most of our high-level terrorists there.”

“And the trial?”

“We’ll need to postpone—Richard Cotton is apparently not a bomber.”

She nodded grimly. Years of work . . . but then, this was even more serious. “We shouldn’t wait to put Grady in front of Cotton, though.”

“Agreed. They’ll have plenty of time to talk en route. Make sure the press doesn’t get wind of Cotton’s transfer. We’ll do it in the middle of the night.”

“But won’t transferring him be risky—with the BTC watching?”

McAllen let a sly grin escape.

 • • •

A surveillance hologram of McAllen and Davis played across Graham Hedrick’s desk as Morrison and several of his sons looked on.

McAllen’s small three-dimensional form grinned. “With what we have in mind, Richard Cotton will be more secure in transit than he is right now.”

Hedrick swept the hologram away with his hand and stared at his blank desktop. He spoke without looking up. “Mr. Morrison, this feud with the government has gone on long enough. Now they’re searching for Hibernity, publicizing our existence, attempting to turn Cotton against us. And Jon Grady is making it even worse. We need to make progress on gravity amplification and soon. We do not have time for this.”

Morrison nodded. “Certain people need to learn memorable lessons.”

Hedrick studied him. The old commando clearly relished the idea of schooling his old leadership. Hedrick nodded. “You’re right.” He cleared his throat. “Tech level nine.”

Morrison and his sons grinned lustily.

“Let our enemies see just how sharp cutting-edge technology can be. Finish this, sweep aside anyone or anything in your path, and bring me Jon Grady—alive. We need his peculiar mind.”

“And Cotton?”

Hedrick considered this. “Public figure or not, if he’s given any information to the government, find out what—then eliminate him. If he’s innocent, take him into custody.”

“The others?”

“Examples should be made.” Hedrick hesitated. “Exothermic decomposition. Make sure there are witnesses.”

Morrison turned to his progeny. “You heard the man.”

They nodded and moved swiftly, eagerly out the doors as Morrison trailed more slowly behind them. He was still in the office as the doors closed, and he turned back toward Hedrick.

Hedrick was gazing out his windows at Mount Fuji, its snowcap gleaming in the hyperrealistic distance. “What is it, Mr. Morrison?”

“Alexa is AWOL. I thought you should know.”

Hedrick sat in silence for several moments, but then he picked up a complex, geared Victorian clock and hurled it against the wall—where it shattered spectacularly.

“When are you going to deal with her?”

Hedrick turned to glare at him, but he couldn’t withstand Morrison’s disgusted expression.

“She disobeys you, and you deliberately try not to see.”

“Enough! You have a job to do, go—”

“Your feelings for her have blinded you. It puts the entire organization in danger.”

“You don’t need to—”

“She illicitly accessed Grady’s Hibernity interrogation records.”

Hedrick’s face dropped. “What? How?”

“She circumvented network restrictions—we’re still trying to figure out how. It appears she might be using her charms on more than just you.”

Hedrick turned another warning look in Morrison’s direction, but it melted away as he realized the implications. “How much did she see?”

“Everything.”

Hedrick put his head in his hands and collapsed in his chair. “God.” He sat like that for several moments before leaning back. “I didn’t want her to know. The world is an ugly place.”

“There’s more.”

Hedrick closed his eyes in resignation.

“In reviewing the breach, the AIs noticed that Grady’s interrogation hologram loops after a few months.”

Hedrick’s eyes opened. “It loops? What do you mean it loops?”

“Somebody’s tampered with it. And not here.”

“You mean at Hibernity?”

Morrison nodded. “It looks like numerous systems there have been compromised. The inmates might be running the asylum.”

Fear stole across Hedrick’s face. “My God . . . Chattopadhyay.”

“I told you, he’s dead. And the moment we get the chance, we’ll open his cell and confirm it.”

Hedrick gazed at the screens all around him. “This entire project is coming apart. If they escape our grip—”

“No one’s escaping anything. And after I take care of this problem, if the civilian authorities want a war, then we’ll make damn sure we win it.”

Hedrick’s breathing calmed. “I can always rely on you, Mr. Morrison.”

Morrison moved to depart. “I’m posting guards around you. See no one—especially her.”

“What are you doing to do?”

“What I should have done long ago.”