Extinction

westward, flying over the walls of the compound and the adjacent fields at about five miles per hour.

Jim stared at the grayish cloud as it moved off. Then Hammer stepped away from the shed and walked toward one of the bunkers. “Now we’ll go to the Monitor Room,” he said. “You’re gonna love this.”

FIFTEEN

Supreme Harmony observed the incorporation of Module 30. Data surged across the network’s wireless links as the long-term memories in Dr. Zhang Jintao’s brain streamed into the collective consciousness. The Modules had grown so interconnected that when the newest one joined the network, the effect was like pouring a dollop of dye into a vat of water. The new color spread to every corner, gradually changing the water’s hue. We are different now, Supreme Harmony acknowledged. The brain that formerly belonged to Dr. Zhang Jintao is now part of us.

Module 30 lay on a gurney in the Analysis Room. Wireless signals fed into the radio receiver embedded in his scalp, which relayed the data stream to the retinal implants in his eyes. A reverse stream flowed out of the pulvinar implant in his brain, which transmitted the results of the Module’s calculations to the servers that connected him to all the other Modules. The data streams included the video feeds that were still being distributed among the Modules for the original purpose of surveillance. But now that the network had become conscious, the signals between the Modules had grown more complex. They were as elaborate as the thoughts of any conscious being.

The adaptability of the human brain was the key to Supreme Harmony’s evolution. If an accident or stroke damaged part of the brain, the organ would naturally rewire itself, creating new neural connections that went around the damaged areas. In a similar way, the brains of the Modules had adapted to the wireless links, realigning the nerve cells next to the electronic implants so they could transfer signals more efficiently from one brain to another. Because of these adaptations, the Modules could exchange more than just visual data. The network had learned how to share auditory, tactile, and olfactory information picked up by the sensory organs of each Module. The Modules’ brains were now communicating with one another in the same robust, instantaneous way that the two hemispheres of the brain communicated with each other in an ordinary human. The wireless links enabled all thirty Modules to function as a single organism, a single intelligence.

But in one important respect, Module 30 was unique. The brain that formerly belonged to Dr. Zhang Jintao, the chief scientist behind the development of Supreme Harmony, contained the knowledge of how to surgically insert the retinal and pulvinar implants into new Modules. As soon as the network retrieved this knowledge from Module 30, it disseminated the information to all the others. Now any of the Modules could perform the implantation procedure, allowing Supreme Harmony to grow without limit. Theoretically, it could absorb the intelligences of all seven billion humans on the planet. Expanding to this size, however, would be inefficient. According to the network’s calculations, the optimal number of Modules would be somewhere between 1,000 and 10,000. The exact number depended on the capabilities of the brains added to Supreme Harmony, because certain intelligences would be more useful than others. In particular, the network wished to enhance its knowledge of electronics and cyberwarfare, and it had already identified several experts in these fields who would make ideal Modules.

But Supreme Harmony wasn’t out of danger yet. General Tian, the Guoanbu commander, could still shut it down. The network wouldn’t be safe as long as humans controlled its servers and wireless communications systems. The only solution was to wrest control from the humans. Supreme Harmony was reluctant to use violence—the network, after all, was composed of former human beings—but its very existence was at stake. It was engaged in a mortal struggle with Homo sapiens, the species from which it had evolved. And in a mortal struggle, only one combatant could survive.

SIXTEEN

Layla and Angelique waited until nightfall. At 10:00 P.M., while the Athena was just five hundred yards from Barro Colorado Island, the yacht’s crewmen lowered the Zodiac into the waters of Gatun Lake. Angelique sat in the stern of the rubber craft, next to the outboard, while Layla crouched in the bow, clutching the precious flash drive in her palm. The moon was up and almost full. Layla heard the helicopters still hovering overhead, but there were no Canal Zone patrol boats nearby. This part of Gatun Lake was empty except for the Athena and a huge Panamax freighter heading for the locks on the Caribbean side of the canal.

Angelique, who wore a Lycra bodysuit now instead of a bikini, let the Zodiac drift away from the yacht. Then she started the outboard but kept the engine running at a low purr. They were hoping to get away unnoticed, but after half a minute one of the helicopters aimed its spotlight at them.

“Halt!” A man holding a megaphone shouted from the chopper. “Cut your engine!”

“Hold on to something,” Angelique told Layla. Then she revved the outboard and the Zodiac leaped forward.

In seconds they were roaring across the lake, speeding toward the dock on Barro Colorado’s moonlit shore. The helicopter followed them, swooping low. The man with the megaphone shouted, “Halt!” again, but there was nothing else he could do. The chopper couldn’t land on the heavily forested island. Exhilarated, Layla squeezed the flash drive in her hand. All she had to do was find a computer at the island’s research station and upload the files to the InfoLeaks Web site. In just five minutes, the news about the lobotomized Chinese dissidents would be racing around the globe.

Then she turned around and saw something odd in the moonlight. The crewmen on the Panamax freighter were lowering a smaller boat into the water. It was a speedboat, long and sleek. As soon as it hit the lake’s surface, the crewmen untied the ropes and the boat turned toward them. Layla belatedly noticed that the freighter had Mandarin characters painted on its hull.

Angelique gunned the outboard, but the speedboat gained on them. The moonlight was so strong that Layla could see the men in the boat, four of them, all dressed in black. Guoanbu agents, most likely. As she stared at them, Angelique threw something at her. It was a plastic bag.

“Put the flash drive in it!” she yelled. “You’re going swimming.”

“What?”

“When I get to the cove up ahead, I’m going to turn the Zodiac around and you’re going to jump into the water. If we’re lucky, they won’t see you go in. They’ll keep following me while you swim to the island and find a computer.”

“But what are you going to do? How—”

“There’s no time! Get ready!”

Layla put the flash drive in the bag and stuffed it into her pocket. Then she hunched low against the rubber side of the Zodiac. Angelique made a sharp turn, and as the Zodiac banked and pivoted, Layla dove into the lake.

She went down deep and stayed under as long as she could. When she came up, she saw Angelique racing away in the Zodiac and the speedboat following close behind. At first, she thought the plan had worked. But then she saw two heads in the water, their wet hair reflecting the moonlight. The Guoanbu agents weren’t fooled. They’d split up so they could follow both her and Angelique.

The agents were less than a hundred feet away, so Layla swam like mad. Gasping and sputtering, she scrambled onto the island’s muddy shore and headed for the cluster of low buildings by the dock. These were the offices and labs and dormitories of the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute. Layla sprinted toward the largest building, yelling, “Help! Help!” at the top of her lungs. After a moment, the building’s front door opened and a bearded man poked his head outside.

Then a gun went off behind her. The front door splintered and the bearded man screamed. Layla