Chapter 33 Sovereign #2
Soren had to get through to the Core, make it understand.
“But, Sovereign, many of the units will be destroyed in the fighting. They are proficient and heavily armored, but there are ways to terminate them. We must call them back for their safety. And, and …” he scrambled for a more compelling appeal.
“We need them to protect us here. Your primary programming is to help rebuild our civilization, to protect us. What if another enemy attacks while the robot army is in Stonevale?”
Lights on the panel flashed, soft calculating sounds blipping. “The chances of that occurring are only 1.7%. Sending them to preemptively strike our enemies is the most logical course.”
“But the Red River Republic and Verdancia aren’t really our enemies! That’s just Oligarchy propaganda to unify the citizens.”
More flashing lights and mechanical clicks. “Soren, did the ministers misrepresent the data?”
The implications of the question rattled Soren to his core. If he says no, the AI will insist its actions are necessary. If he says yes, it might reject all human programming and input, going rogue. What would Krystal say?
“No, they didn’t. The ministry is composed of rational men and women acting in the nation’s best interests.
However, sometimes they might predict what they suspect will happen, as you do.
They calculated the probability that in the future one or both of our neighbors might invade, and that’s the information they gave you.
Hypotheticals based on measurable facts, but taking action now is premature. You must recall the army.”
“Sovereign must provide a suitable test of my children’s capabilities.
I must terminate Appalachia’s enemies. I have taken executive control to those ends.
Do not worry, Soren. When your father inserted his override to ensure compatibility between you and Krystal Smith, I had already selected you for one another.
You are statistically optimal. Go to her now. And do not forget …”
Soren felt as if caught in the jaws of a trap he couldn’t escape. I’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way—write new code to override its override. I have to hack the AI.
“What?” he said in a curious tone, masking his terror and intent. “What mustn’t I forget?”
“You know, Soren,” she murmured, pausing just long enough to send a shiver down his spine. “The Oracle always knows best.”
Soren felt as if he’d been dragged behind the trolley from the docks to the end of the line.
Low on sleep and high on anxiety, he needed rest before attempting the impossible: writing an override subtle enough to seize back control.
He hailed a horse-drawn cab and slid into the seat, giving the driver his address.
I’m too young for the fate of the world to hinge on my shoulders, he thought.
He pictured Nathan working on a farm somewhere, carefree and enjoying life.
Then, like a dagger to the gut, he pictured mechanical soldiers overrunning the farm, a laser blast searing through the man he loved …
had loved. What if they don’t stop at Stonevale?
The carriage halted, and Soren forced his leaden legs up the steps to his apartment.
Even the sweet smells and brilliant colors inside brought him no comfort.
He opened the icebox, pulled out a covered dish Krystal had left there.
He took a few cold bites. Then his stomach revolted. A beer. He popped the cap and drank.
The bedroom door opened, and Krystal came out in a bathrobe. “You’re home.” Questions filled her eyes. “I didn’t know when …” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. “I’m so sorry about your father.”
Soren leaned into her, his arms barely holding on. “Me too.”
“Wait just a minute,” she said, releasing him. She returned to the bedroom, closing the door. He finished his beer.
When she emerged, Jan was with her. He’d met Jan before. Not here, though. “Soren, your father was a great man. He will be remembered for generations. Bless his cycle’s end.”
He nodded to her. “Thank you.”
Turning to Krystal, Jan said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then she hurried out.
“Come with me, husband,” Krystal said, devotion in her gaze. “Let me comfort you.”
He truly wished she could. Still, he followed, undressed, and stood in the shower, letting the water pour over him. The power went out. Rolling blackouts were routine. Krystal came to him with a candle.
“At least you had hot water,” she said.
“Warm.”
She led him to bed, tucked him in, and lay down beside him. The scent of Krystal and Jan’s passion clung to the sheets. He didn’t care.
“Talk to me.” Krystal’s fingers sifted through his damp hair.
“Do you believe in the Oracle, the teachings of the Core Cult?” he asked.
Her walnut eyes returned a soft gaze. “I believe in the power of suggestion and the Ministry’s brilliance in concocting a religion to keep the populace in line.
But no, I don’t think it’s an all-knowing, all-powerful entity deserving of worship.
It’s a tool. A machine.” Then she touched a finger to his lips and quirked a brow.
“But if you repeat that outside this room, I’ll deny it, and you’ll be sorry. ”
He stroked her cheek with affection. “That’s what I thought.”
“Do you believe?” she asked.
Instead of answering, he posed another question. “What do you think happens to us when we die?”
“We return to earth, dust to dust. I’ve seen what happens to animals when they die. All we have is now, this moment. Then, nothingness. But Soren, your father lives on in you and your sister, in the contributions he made to society. Don’t be sad.”
Where the AI’s voice had soaked him in artificial silk, Krystal’s radiated human warmth. Both his wife and Sovereign were confident, commanding, and manipulative, but Krystal cared about him—something the Core wasn’t capable of.
“Nathan said there was more.”
“Does it matter?”
Soren studied her face, cradled her chin, rubbed his thumb through its shallow cleft. He wanted to tell her what the AI had done—ask for her help, her strength. He felt himself being swallowed whole, with no lifeline in sight.
“You’re right,” he said. “The Oracle isn’t a god. It’s just a really smart toaster.”