Alien, p.20
Alien, page 20
“You mean we might be breathing in that poison right now?” Brenna said. Her voice was strained, her eyes wild, and Zula could tell she was on the verge of full-bore panic. She wasn’t the only one. The other trainees looked equally disturbed by Davis’s words.
They didn’t thrill her, either.
“The chemical scanner can be set to detect the virus,” Brigette said. “That way you’ll know if the danger is present.”
“Give the scanner to me,” Tamar said. “Brigette can tell me what to do, and I’ll act as her hands.”
Nicholas had been carrying the device, and he held it out. Tamar placed Brigette’s head on the floor before taking the device. She then sat cross-legged next to the synth and they went to work. Brigette gave her instructions on how to reset the tracer, and Tamar’s fingers danced across its controls.
Zula thought fast. They could stay at their current location and hope the air would remain untainted. The chemical scanner would tell them if the air turned bad, but that knowledge would do nothing to protect them. They didn’t have EVA suits, and they couldn’t just hold their breath and wait for the air to clear.
“If I can make a suggestion?” Davis said.
“Go on,” Zula urged.
“I might be able to access the controls for the air system in the Administration building. Each building has fans that are designed to draw out contaminated air and release it outside of the dome in case of fire, chemical spill, or gas leak. That might clear out enough of the virus to enable you to travel through the facility and continue your hunt for the Necromorph. It might also aid those personnel in Administration who are not yet infected.”
“If the air can be cleaned like that,” Ronny said, “why hasn’t Security already started the process?”
“I’m speculating,” Davis said, “but my guess would be that Security personnel fear that some of the virus might end up filtering through the rest of the Lodge’s air ducts, and spread through the entire V-22 facility. I should be able to prevent that from happening, though.”
“We’ll encounter another emergency barrier on the other side of Administration,” Zula said. “Will you be able to raise it for us?”
“Possibly.”
“But by doing so, won’t you risk alerting the Lodge’s AI to your presence?” Zula asked.
“Yes. But it is a risk I’m willing to take.” He paused, then added, “For you.” As she watched, Zula saw confusion on the faces of some of her team, while looks of understanding dawned for others. Zula didn’t want to put her friend in danger, however, unless there was no other way.
That seemed to be the case.
“We’re done,” Tamar announced. She stood, held out the chemical scanner, and pressed a control with her thumb. After a moment she checked the device’s screen. “The scanner is detecting traces of the virus in the vicinity. Not in our immediate area, but close—and coming closer.”
“Damn it,” Zula said. “All right, do it, Davis. But be careful.”
“I’m afraid I can’t comply. If I’m careful, I’ll fail.”
He fell silent then, and Zula stared at the terminal, knowing that Davis wasn’t in there any more than he was in her comm when he spoke to her. Still, she’d never get used to the idea of her friend being a disembodied consciousness. So she gazed at the terminal screen, which continued displaying the Security warning about the virus, and wished she could see through it and into the Lodge’s data network so she could monitor her friend’s progress.
“Be careful anyway,” Zula whispered.
20
Synthetics didn’t possess imagination—at least, not as humans defined it. They were, however, capable of extrapolating from data and projecting outcomes. These actions required more than basic computational skills.
And Davis wasn’t a typical synthetic. He desired to expand his mental and emotional capacity, to be more like humans, even though he could never truly be one. To this end he had worked on developing his capacity for simulation and extrapolation, leading to outcomes that were more complex, more vivid. Being without a body, he had a great deal of time on his hands—metaphorically speaking—and he used much of that to continue honing his nascent imagination.
He had also explored the Lodge’s computer network, unobtrusively mapping it until he not only understood the virtual environment in which he found himself existing, but also would be able to use that knowledge to aid Zula in the event she needed his assistance.
She definitely needed his help now.
Davis knew precisely where the central controls of the Lodge’s air system were located, and he sent his awareness there, traveling through the network so swiftly that to a human it would have seemed instant.
Abruptly he stopped, materializing as an avatar appearing to occupy three-dimensional space. He was standing on a vast shadowy plane that stretched outward in all directions, seemingly without end.
Interesting.
There was nothing in his immediate vicinity, so he began running. Since he had manifested in this place facing a particular direction, that was the way he continued. The surface beneath his feet was smooth and featureless, like a polished metal floor, but his footfalls made no sound.
Despite the speed at which he appeared to move, never tiring, it seemed to take an interminable time to cross the emptiness. Just when he was beginning to think he had miscalculated, that he hadn’t manifested in the right location, he saw the tower.
It was cylindrical and so tall that it disappeared into the gloom above, making it impossible to estimate its height. Like the “ground,” the tower was silver. As he drew closer he saw that the tower possessed a circumference of five yards, nowhere near enough to support its own weight had this been the physical universe.
Slowing as he approached the structure, Davis came to a stop directly in front of it. There was a curved screen on its surface, placed at eye level and displaying a variety of icons. He took a moment to examine them, and when he felt confident that he understood them, touched his fingers to the screen.
“Don’t do that.”
The voice was flat, emotionless, and it came from directly behind him. Davis’s head swiveled around to look behind him while the rest of his body remained facing forward, his hands continuing to manipulate the tower’s control screen. Three feet away stood a humanoid silhouette, a shape formed of solid shadow. It was Davis’s height and its outline resembled his own.
The AI has copied me.
It had done so because, unlike Davis, it possessed not even a semblance of imagination. This wasn’t a physical place. It was a realm of information, of thought. Here, reality was malleable.
Davis concentrated, and a third arm emerged from his back. It held a Fournier 350 in its grip, and without hesitation he fired without stopping until the weapon was out of ammunition. The AI staggered back as the virtual bullets slammed into its shadowy substance, the impact of each round driving it farther away. Taking advantage of its hesitation, he again focused narrowly on the control screen.
Yet the shadowy figure didn’t go down.
“Don’t.
“Do.
“That!”
The AI pushed forward, hands outstretched, arms lengthening. It grabbed hold of Davis’s neck and began to squeeze, claws invading his virtual flesh. Davis didn’t need to breathe the way humans did, but the AI wasn’t attempting to strangle him. It sought to breach his program, bypass his defenses, dismantle his code, and delete him. In a sense, the V-22 facility was its body, and Davis was an invading presence, not unlike a computer virus. What it lacked in sophistication it made up for in sheer power, and the pain was excruciating.
Davis’s extra arm disappeared as he focused all his will on reprogramming the air system controls. His fingers had been a blur, but they began to slow now. He was having trouble maintaining his concentration, and he experienced the AI’s grip as a great pressure pushing at him from all sides. Doing everything he could to push back against it, he visualized his body producing an electric shock that would stun the attacker and break its grip on his neck.
Nothing happened.
Either his imagination wasn’t as developed as he’d thought, or the AI was too strong. Either way, it continued tightening its grip, and Davis saw a slash of white in its midnight-black face as it smiled.
Davis tried to speak, but only managed a single word.
“Help…”
* * *
Zula and the rest waited by the terminal. Several seconds went by, and then Davis’s voice came from the speaker again.
“Help…”
Oh no, Zula thought.
“What’s happening?” Ronny asked.
“My friend’s a… a synthetic,” Zula said. “His consciousness is inside the Lodge’s computer network. He’s attempting to access the main air system controls, but I think the AI is trying to stop him. I have no idea how to help him.”
“I do.”
All eyes turned toward Brigette.
“I can enter the system and go to his aid. You’ll need to remove my ident chip and insert it into the terminal’s data port. After that, it will be a simple matter for me to find Davis and assist him.”
Zula felt a surge of hope. She walked over to Brigette and crouched down so she could speak to the synth eye to eye.
“Are you sure? It could be risky, and it’s not like you know me or Davis.”
“I don’t have to know you. I only have to know what’s right. Despite my reservations, I helped Dr. Gagnon bring the Necromorph into existence. The result has been that dozens of people are dead, and more will follow if Davis can’t clear the contaminated air from this building. Please proceed.”
Zula didn’t want Brigette to endanger herself, but she couldn’t let her friend continue facing the AI on his own.
“All right,” she said.
Picking up Brigette’s head, she turned it around and found the tiny slot at the base of the skull. She pressed her thumb against it for several seconds, and when she pulled it away there was a soft click as the ident chip ejected. Zula took hold of it with her thumb and forefinger and gently pulled it all the way out. Then she placed Brigette’s head—features now frozen and lifeless—back onto the floor. Standing up, she hurried to the terminal and, as Brigette had requested, inserted the chip into the data port.
Nothing seemed to happen, but Zula prayed that the synthetic’s mind was already racing through the system.
“Good luck,” she whispered.
* * *
The AI’s hands tightened further around Davis’s throat, and he “felt” sharp indentations in his neuraplex skin as its fingers became claws. Slowly the claw points began to sink into his flesh, and for the first time in his existence he felt pain. He tried to ignore it, to concentrate on manifesting his third arm again, but the pain was too distracting.
He knew then that he had lost.
The Lodge’s AI would destroy him before he could finish instructing the air system to clear the cellular necrosis virus from the atmosphere within the Administration building, flushing it out to the planet’s surface. He tried to send Zula another message, tell her he was sorry for failing her, but he was too weak to do so.
He didn’t regret dying. Everything would cease functioning one day, even the universe itself, but he regretted failing his friend, and wished he could speak to her one last time before he went offline.
Off to one side another figure manifested, and began running toward the silver tower. It was a blond woman wearing a lab coat, and he recognized her from his time in the Lodge’s records. She was Brigette, the synthetic who assisted Dr. Gagnon.
As she moved closer his thoughts became sluggish, his perceptions began to fragment. Just as they threatened to cut out completely she arrived, and he saw her raise her avatar’s right arm. Her fingers merged into a single sharp point and then the limb lengthened, thrusting forth like a spear.
It seemed he wasn’t the only synthetic with an imagination.
The point struck home, and the AI’s grip weakened perceptibly. Davis removed his hands from the control screen, reached up, grabbed his attacker’s wrists, and yanked its hands away from his neck. The pain he had experienced when those claws sunk into his “flesh” was nothing compared to the pain of tearing them free, but he pushed the sensation aside.
Still holding onto the AI’s wrists he pushed it backward, then spun around to confront the shadowy creature. He was surprised to see chalky white “blood” dripping from its claws. Brigette’s spear hand was still embedded in its head, joining her to her target. Without warning the AI’s head split down the middle, enabling it to free itself. Then it wheeled on her, the two halves merging once more.
“Don’t do that!” it shouted, lunging toward her.
Returning her hand to normal, she raised her arms to fend off the attack, but the shadow thing was too fast. It slammed into her, knocked her to the flat, smooth ground, and straddled her. The AI raised its claw hands and brought them down with savage speed, slicing into Brigette with one swift, vicious swipe after another. She screamed as white blood poured from her ravaged body, to splatter onto the ground around her.
Davis stepped forward to help her.
“No!” she shouted. “Finish what you started. They need you.”
She was right.
He turned to face the control screen and resumed tapping his fingers on its surface, working the controls more rapidly than before. The sooner he completed this task, the sooner he could go to Brigette’s aid. He tried to shut out her screams and the sound of rending flesh as he worked… and then he was finished. All he had to do was give the command to execute.
With a last tap of the screen, he did so.
“No!”
The AI stopped its assault and turned its featureless face toward Davis. It seemed about to launch itself toward him, but before it could move Brigette’s neck stretched. Her head—face covered with her own ivory blood—rose toward the AI. Her mouth opened wide—far wider than it should have—to display twin rows of long, sharp teeth.
They resembled the fangs of a Xenomorph.
She struck fast, fastening those teeth onto the top of the AI’s head. Then she bit down hard. It was the AI’s turn to shriek in pain. Its shadowy substance wavered, lost definition and cohesion, and finally fell apart into scattered wisps that simply drifted away. Brigette’s head snapped back to its normal position on her body, the teeth retreated into her jaws, and she became humanlike once more.
She didn’t rise.
Davis went to her and knelt by her side. The attack had opened her up from throat to crotch and destroyed the artificial organs within. Davis knew he was looking at a representation of the damage Brigette’s program had sustained, a grisly metaphor, but the end result was the same. She’d been injured too severely to survive. Taking hold of one of her hands, he gave it a squeeze. No reaction. He wondered if she could feel his touch at all.
“Did you like the teeth?” she asked. Her voice was a liquid gurgle and white fluid trickled from her mouth as she spoke. “I got the idea from observing the Necromorph.”
“It was an elegant touch,” he said. Then, “Thank you.”
“Help them kill the creature,” she said. “And when you’re finished, destroy all the data in Dr. Gagnon’s lab. Xenomorphs are too dangerous. No one should have access to that knowledge.”
“I’ll make sure it’s done.”
“Good.” She gave him the access codes for Dr. Gagnon’s computers, her voice growing weaker as she went on. When she was finished, she gave him a tired smile.
“It was nice to meet you, Davis.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” Davis said.
Then, like the AI before her, Brigette’s form dissipated, and she was gone.
* * *
“We did it,” Davis said. “The fans have been activated and the air in the Administration building should soon be clear.”
Zula breathed a sigh of relief.
“Brigette?” she asked.
“She didn’t make it.”
“Understood.”
With a heavy heart, Zula removed Brigette’s ident chip from the terminal. Its outer surface was charred, as if it had been hit with a power surge. She slipped the chip into one of her pockets. She didn’t want to leave Brigette’s head behind, but they couldn’t afford to carry anything unnecessary right now. So they left it resting on the corridor floor, dead eyes staring sightlessly at nothing. She made Brigette a silent promise to return and retrieve it when this was all over.
Assuming Zula was still alive then.
She led her team down the corridor toward the Administration building, holding Tamar’s tracker in her left hand, her Fournier 350 in her right. Periodically she glanced down at the tracker’s screen, and each time confirmed that the Necromorph was still stationary. If it stayed that way they’d be able to locate it and engage the creature again. This time the damn thing wouldn’t escape.
Nicholas walked next to Zula, using the modified chemical scanner to check for cellular necrosis in the air. There was a slight breeze in the corridor, and Zula knew the emergency fans were working. There was no guarantee, however, that they’d make the air safe to breathe.
Davis spoke in her ear.
“Thanks to Brigette, the Lodge’s AI has been reduced to its most basic operating system. It still runs the facility, but that’s all. It’s like the human autonomic system without the higher brain functions. Simply put, the AI is in the equivalent of a coma, but its heart still beats and its lungs still draw breath.
“Now that I no longer have to tiptoe around the facility’s network, I can access any security camera or terminal. I can be your eyes and ears throughout the Lodge.”
This was the best news she’d heard all day.
“A word of warning, however. The hardware of my ident chip wasn’t designed for long-term interface with a computer network as expansive as the Lodge’s. The longer I remain connected to it, the greater my risk.”
