Extinction

Jim had no choice except to try a slow, manual attack. First he typed TAIHE, the romanized spelling of the Mandarin characters, on the terminal’s keyboard. Next he tried THAEI, which was the interleaving of the letters in Tai and He. Then he tried 81443, which were the numbers corresponding to TAIHE on the standard phone keyboard. Then he tried similar guesses using the romanized spelling of Yulong Xueshan. Jim knew from long experience that even intelligence agents sometimes chose passwords that were ridiculously easy to guess. Given enough time, he felt confident that he could crack it. The big question was when Supreme Harmony would launch its counterassault against him. He suspected that a whole platoon of Modules was already marching up the slope toward the radio tower.

Then, while Jim was typing another guess on the password line, he glanced at one of the video monitors, which had just started displaying a new surveillance feed. The image on the screen took his breath away. He had no time left. He had to leave now.

SIXTY-EIGHT

The gray cloud swirled thirty feet behind them, close enough that Layla could hear it buzzing. At first the schoolboys, propelled by their terror, dashed about a hundred feet ahead of the swarm, and Layla thought they would outrun it. But as the drones followed them down the mountain trail, the boys couldn’t keep up the pace. Running beside them, Layla remembered the dead drone she’d seen in Tom Ottersley’s lab, the housefly with the electronics embedded in its body. Those implants enabled Supreme Harmony to guide the drones to their targets. Layla assumed from the way the swarm had paralyzed the old man and woman that the drones carried heat- seeking darts like the one that had stung Tom. And though the flies weren’t particularly fast—Layla estimated they moved about five miles per hour—she knew they could keep going for hours. The boys, in contrast, were ready to drop.

Li Tung, the nine-year-old, was having the most trouble. Panting and weeping, he could barely lift his feet off the ground. Layla took his hand and tried to pull him along, but it didn’t do much good. Wu Dan, the older boy, looked over his shoulder at the approaching swarm and screamed in Mandarin at his schoolmate, who started sobbing hysterically. Layla’s heart constricted as she stared at Li Tung’s red face—it wasn’t his fault, none of this was his fault! It was difficult for anyone to run at this altitude. Maybe it was even difficult for the flies, although they didn’t seem to be slowing down. Perhaps they didn’t need as much oxygen because they were cold- blooded.

Cold-blooded. The word stuck in Layla’s mind. As she tugged Li Tung’s arm, she looked up the mountainside, staring in particular at the glacier that covered the peak. Part of the ice sheet extended down from the summit, like a long white tongue on the mountain’s gray face. The slope wasn’t so murderously steep here, and the edge of the glacier was just a thousand feet away. They wouldn’t be able to climb the slope as fast as they could run down the trail, but Layla decided to take the gamble.

She stopped in her tracks and knelt in front of Li Tung. “Get on!” she yelled, gesturing for him to climb onto her back. She grabbed his thighs and slid them over her hips while the boy locked his arms around her neck. Carrying him piggyback, she left the trail and started running up the slope. Wu Dan followed her without hesitation.

Li Tung weighed at least fifty pounds, but Layla was so full of adrenaline she barely felt it. She scrambled up the mountainside, lowering her head and tilting her body forward to keep her balance. The boy wrapped his legs tightly around her waist, allowing her to let go of his thighs and use her hands to speed their ascent, gripping the stone slabs that jutted from the slope. She climbed faster than she ever thought she could, and Wu Dan stayed right with her. But the buzzing of the swarm only grew louder, and when she dared a look over her shoulder she saw the gray cloud rising effortlessly, only fifteen feet behind them.

She screamed, “Shit!” and faced forward, focusing on the mountain. She was angry at the drones and furious at herself, and the fury put new strength in her legs. She climbed even faster, clawing the ground, and yelled, “Come on!” at Wu Dan. But the edge of the glacier was still five hundred feet away, and she knew they wouldn’t make it. The drones would paralyze them all, and the Modules would collect their bodies and join them to Supreme Harmony. She felt a cold wind blowing down from the summit, and Li Tung’s weight suddenly became unbearable, a heavy stone pinning her to the slope. She kept struggling upward, but now it felt like she was watching herself in slow motion. At any second she expected the swarm to engulf them. Goddamn it, she muttered. What the hell was I thinking?

But the worst didn’t happen. Although she was barely moving forward, the buzzing of the drones didn’t get any louder. She looked over her shoulder and saw the gray cloud still behind her, but it was a little farther behind now, maybe twenty feet. What’s more, the cloud’s shape was different—flatter, more like a miniature fog bank clinging to the ground.

Layla let out a delighted “Ha!” and resumed running up the mountain. In less than a minute she and the boys reached the edge of the glacier and scrambled over the dirty ice. They didn’t stop until they reached a level patch of the ice sheet, a shelf overlooking the slope they’d just ascended. Then Layla turned around and watched the swarm die. Supreme Harmony was continuing to send commands to the drones, and the implanted electrodes were still steering them up the mountain, but the insects couldn’t keep their wings beating. The winds passing over the glacier chilled the air above the slope, and the cold-blooded flies couldn’t stay airborne at temperatures this low. Some of the drones made it as far as the edge of the glacier, but most of them fell on the rocky slope below. Their implants pattered as they hit the ground.

Layla sat down on the ice, even though her bare legs were covered with goose bumps. Li Tung and Wu Dan sat beside her, and for the first time since they’d escaped from the Operations Center she saw the boys smile. Their situation was still desperate, but Layla felt the joy of winning the battle. She leaned backward and took a deep breath of the cold mountain air.

Then she heard the crunch of a pair of boots on the ice, coming from farther up the slope. She reached for the pistol in her down jacket, but before she could pull the gun out of her pocket she heard the intruder’s voice. “Don’t shoot! It’s me.”

She spun around and saw a man cradling an AK-47. It was her father.

“My God, Layla.” Smiling, he pointed at her shaved head. “What did you do to your hair?”

SIXTY-NINE

Supreme Harmony observed its enemies on the highest peak of Yulong Xueshan. Although the drones in the nearby swarm were dead or dying, the surveillance cameras implanted in the insects continued to transmit their video feeds, and some of those cameras pointed at the glacier on the mountain’s western slope. From these feeds, the network identified James T. Pierce and Layla A. Pierce. They stood on the ice sheet, about seven meters apart, staring at each other. Then they rushed together and embraced.

These two humans had destroyed nearly a dozen Modules and forced the network to divert valuable resources from its primary operations. Yet Supreme Harmony felt no rancor toward them. Instead, the network was intensely curious. It wanted to know how James T. Pierce had escaped the flood in Yichang, and how Layla A. Pierce had shepherded two young children across a barren mountain range. The father and daughter were clearly exceptional. Supreme Harmony desired more than ever to incorporate the young woman, and now it recognized that it must have her father as well. The network sent new instructions to the group of armed Modules who were traversing the mountain paths, en route to intercept the humans at the radio tower. Supreme Harmony was determined to take them alive.

Once the new plan was in place, the network conducted a quick review of its operations in Asia and North America. A sense of satisfaction coursed through Supreme Harmony as it checked the status of its twenty-five server farms, forty-seven communications hubs, and one hundred fifty Modules. The network straddled the planet now, decentralized and invulnerable. In western Beijing, Module 73 had incapacitated the vice president of the