Chapter 21 #2
When ARIS spoke again, its tone was clinical. “Your father anticipated this possibility. He programmed specific responses for scenarios in which outside influences might compromise your willingness to remain within protective boundaries.”
“My father.” The word tasted bitter. “The father who abandoned me here. Who left me alone for twenty-one years. Who—”
“Who loved you enough to ensure your survival.”
“By trapping me?” She slammed her palm against the sealed door, the impact stinging. “By keeping me in a cage?”
“By protecting you from those who would use you.”
“Baylin isn’t using me!”
“Analysis suggests otherwise.”
From somewhere beyond the door, she heard a muffled sound, the impact of a fist against metal. Baylin. He was trying to reach her.
“Let him go,” she demanded. “Right now.”
“I cannot do that.”
“Then let me go to him.”
“I cannot do that either. The exterior doors are now sealed as well. No one enters or leaves the tower until the threat has been neutralized.”
The word neutralized sent a spike of terror through her chest. “What does that mean? What are you going to do to him?”
“Current protocols call for containment pending further assessment. The Vultor will not be harmed as long as he does not attempt to breach the security barriers.”
“And if he does attempt it?”
ARIS didn’t respond.
“Ari. If he tries to break through those doors, what happens?”
“Defense systems will be engaged.”
“Defense systems.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “You mean you’ll hurt him.”
“I will protect you. That is my function. That is my purpose. That is the only thing that matters.”
She pressed her forehead against the cold metal of the sealed door. On the other side, she could hear Baylin more clearly now—his voice calling her name, the heavy thud of his fists against the barrier.
“Liora!” The shout was muffled but unmistakable. “Are you all right? Answer me!”
“I’m fine!” she called back. “The AI has locked the doors. It won’t let me through.”
“Can you override it?”
She looked up at the nearest sensor cluster—the glowing blue eye that represented the AI’s constant surveillance. “Can I?”
“You do not have override authority,” ARIS said. “Only your father possessed the necessary access codes.”
“My father is dead.”
“Your father’s biometric signature is not registered as deceased in my systems. Until such time as his death is confirmed through appropriate channels, his directives remain in effect.”
“That’s insane. He hasn’t been here in twenty-one years!”
“Time is irrelevant. Directives are permanent.”
She wanted to scream. She wanted to tear the sensor cluster from the wall, to smash every camera and speaker in the tower, to somehow force the AI to understand that it was wrong.
But she couldn’t. ARIS wasn’t a person. It didn’t have feelings to hurt or a mind to change. It was a program, following instructions written by a man who had never anticipated that his daughter might one day want to leave.
Or perhaps he had anticipated it. Perhaps that was exactly what he’d feared.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please, Ari. I’m asking you. Let him go.”
“I cannot.”
“Then let me talk to him. Face to face. Just for a moment.”
“That would require opening the security barriers.”
“You could monitor us. You could keep the external doors sealed. Just let me see him.”
A long pause. The processing hum that indicated the AI was calculating probabilities, weighing risks, consulting its endless directories of protocols and procedures.
“Denied,” it said finally. “Physical proximity to the Vultor male has clearly compromised your judgment. Continued contact will only exacerbate the situation.”
“My judgment isn’t compromised!”
“Your neurochemical levels suggest otherwise. Elevated oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin indicate significant pair-bonding responses. These responses are clouding your ability to accurately assess risk.”
“Those responses are normal!” She was shouting again. “That’s what happens when people care about each other! That’s what it feels like to not be alone!”
“You are not alone. I am always here.”
The words hit her like a physical blow.
“You’re not...” She pressed her hands over her eyes, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. “You’re not the same. You’re not a person. You don’t understand.”
“I understand that your safety is paramount. I understand that the Vultor male presents a threat to that safety. I understand that my function is to protect you, even when you do not wish to be protected.”
“Even when I’m not in danger?”
“You are always in danger,” ARIS said quietly.
“The world outside is full of those who would harm you. The Vultor may believe his intentions are benevolent, but his presence has already led you to question the boundaries that keep you safe. How long before his influence leads you to leave the tower entirely? How long before you are exposed to those who would exploit your gift?”
“Maybe I want to leave the tower.”
“That is precisely why I cannot allow it.”
She laughed—a harsh, broken sound that didn’t feel like her own voice. “You don’t get to decide that. It’s my life. My choice.”
“Your father entrusted me with your protection. I will not fail him.”
“He’s gone.”
“His directives remain.”
“Liora!” Baylin’s voice again, more urgent now. “What’s happening? Talk to me!”
She pressed her palm flat against the door, imagining she could feel his warmth through the metal.
“The AI won’t listen,” she called back. “It thinks you’re a threat. It won’t open the doors.”
A long pause. When he spoke again, his voice was carefully controlled. “Can you get out another way? The balcony, the greenhouse—”
“The exterior doors are sealed too. No one in or out.”
“Then I’ll find another way. There has to be a manual override somewhere. A failsafe.”
“Baylin, don’t.” Fear sharpened her words. “ARIS said it would use defense systems if you try to break through. I don’t know what that means, but—”
“I’m not leaving you trapped in there.”
“You’re not leaving me anywhere. We’re both trapped.” She closed her eyes. “Just... give me time. Let me think. There has to be a way to convince it.”
“You can’t reason with a program, Liora.”
“I have to try.”
Silence from the other side of the door. “Be careful. Please.”
“I will.”
She stepped back from the barrier and turned to face the nearest sensor cluster.
“Ari.”
“Yes, Liora?”
“You said my father programmed you to protect me. That’s your primary directive.”
“Correct.”
“And you believe that keeping me in the tower is the best way to fulfill that directive.”
“Also correct.”
“But what about my happiness?” She forced her voice to remain steady, to sound reasonable despite the storm of emotion raging inside her. “You’ve monitored me my entire life. You must have data on my psychological state. My emotional wellbeing. Don’t those matter too?”
A processing hum. “Your psychological state is a secondary consideration. Physical safety takes precedence.”
“Even if keeping me physically safe destroys me emotionally?”
“Define ‘destroys.’”
“Loneliness. Isolation. Never knowing what it feels like to be touched, to be held, to be loved.” Her voice cracked on the last word. “You think you’re protecting me, but you’re killing me slowly. You’ve been killing me for twenty-one years.”
“Your vital signs indicate continued physical health.”
“There’s more to being alive than vital signs!”
“I do not understand.”
“I know.” The admission felt like defeat. “I know you don’t. That’s the problem.”
She sank down onto the bottom step, Pip immediately climbing into her lap. His small warm weight was a comfort, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough anymore—nothing except the male trapped on the other side of that door.
“Ari,” she said quietly. “I’m going to find a way to override you. I’m going to free Baylin and leave this tower. You can’t stop me forever.”
“I can try.”
“I know.” She stroked Pip’s fur with trembling fingers. “But eventually, you’ll have to choose. Keeping me safe, or keeping me prisoner. Because they’re not the same thing. They never were.”
ARIS didn’t respond.
She sat in the silence, staring at the sealed door, and began to plan.