A few lines of code appeared in orange text, one line after another. They flashed off the screen just as fast as they had shown up, quicker than Karl could decipher them.
At first, Karl believed his computer to be bugged—it looked like it was displaying a crash screen, but then it went black. A faint buzz came from the inner-ear speaker.
Then, new words appeared on the display. They were red and appeared one letter at a time, as if being written by a typewriter.
The message read, “Human minds are to be separate from digital minds.”
“What the hell?” Karl said aloud as the words disappeared.
After a few seconds, a second message was typed out.
It read, “If you continue, you will be destroyed.”
Then all Karl was left with was a blank screen.
Presentation
Karl had been obsessing over the message during his entire morning commute. There were a few times he almost drifted into another driver’s lane, only to be brought back to reality by the blaring of horns. He realized he was a hazard in his current state and activated his autonomous driver.
It was clear to him that he had been hacked. Someone had managed to break through the security software that protected his cerebral computer and had taken control of its functions.
If they can do that, Karl thought, I’m terrified of what else they can do.
Karl had considered calling the police for hours. That kind of security breach was grounds alone for a criminal investigation, not to mention the threat the hacker had left. He kept telling himself that the words were hollow and that no harm could come to him. However, he worried. Breaking into someone’s mind wasn’t something just anyone could achieve.
The psychologist decided against reporting the incident to the authorities. He knew the work he performed was far too sensitive to allow law officials access. So many research secrets, so many files with non-disclosure agreements. His career would be over, to say the least.
The parking lot next to the lab was packed full. Karl had to circle around and park on a parallel street a block north. He walked through the morning air with his hands in his pockets.
You need to get it off your mind, Karl told himself. Today is a big day. Focus on the meeting—on your pitch—and then you can worry about the message. Someone might be able to trace the source of the threat—someone with programming experience. Maybe Stewart could help.
There was a sort of static energy that seemed to hum through the corridors. It was almost like Karl could sense the vibrations of every excited heart within the building. He could even feel it within himself. It would be false to claim that he wasn’t anticipating the result of today’s meeting. In fact, it could make or break his career.
This meeting was the direct result of a successful test of the mindshare process. Decades of work paid off when a simulation of an installed intelligence-to-cerebral computer connection proved plausible. The simulation was merely an experiment, but it was the first step on the path to seamless human/I.I. symbiosis.
Now that the test was a success, they needed a human subject. Who better to examine than one of the experts themselves? That’s why the meeting had been arranged—to see which scientist had the best pitch for a side project. They wanted to install an I.I. into someone’s C.C. and let them work on their proposed project to see how well cooperation pans out and to sort out any troublesome bugs that would debilitate any non-experts.
He dropped his briefcase off in his office before stopping by the lounge for his daily cup of joe. He stopped for a second when he saw Stewart sitting on the couch with his back to the door. Karl almost considered forfeiting his coffee and returning to his office to avoid any idle chatter, but then he remembered the message and wanted to get his colleague’s advice.
Stewart’s face was pointed at the ground with a blank look on his face. Beside him sat the older black woman with glasses—Karl always had trouble remembering her name. She took notice of him as he approached the couch, but Stewart did not.
Karl greeted the woman before turning to his acquaintance. After a moment, he realized the blond man was immersed in his cerebral computer. The psychologist put a hand on Stewart’s shoulder, to which the younger man jumped.
“You startled me,” he said with a wheezy laugh. He made eye contact with Karl. “Sorry, I was reading a new book I got. Longevity of Spite. Ever heard of it?”
“No,” Karl replied. “Is it good?”
“Not really,” Stewart answered, his lips pursed in humor. “What’s up? Got a pitch ready for the meeting?”
“You’re damn right I do,” Karl said. “What about you? Anything groundbreaking?”
“Oh, I dunno about that,” the blond man replied with an attempt at modesty. “But it’s something different. Something I’ve never really tried before. Could be a real hit or miss.”
The woman on the couch tried to ignore them, but didn’t seem to be able to. She stood up and excused herself to the hallway to finish whatever it was she had been doing in peace.
“Any hints as to what you’re bringing?” Stewart pried.
Karl shook his head. “You’ll find out soon, same as everyone else.”
“Do you even want to be a part of the big test?” the engineer interrogated. “It doesn’t seem like something that’d be up your alley.”
“How do you mean?”
Stewart blushed a little. “I mean no offense, but you strike me as a thinking scientist rather than a hands-on one,” he explained.
“You’re mistaken,” Karl retorted. “I like whatever gets me closer to the I.I.s. I don’t discriminate on science.”
“Well, the possibility of a grant doesn’t hurt, either, does it?”
“No, it does not.”
There was a period of silence after the pair shared a forced chuckle. Karl knew it was the perfect
