Then why the shooting on the anti-I.I. activists? Karl asked. Would it not have been simpler to focus on I.I.-sympathetic targets if your goal was to rile them up?
“You can’t have just one side to a war, Karl,” Maynard replied. “In order to fight, both sides need to be motivated. Humans won’t lay down their lives for a cause they care nothing for. We had to give them a Pearl Harbor, so to speak. A 9/11. As we both know, mankind can’t be motivated to care unless it has a sharp kick in the pants. I needed to create a mutual animosity. One that could breed for years.”
Karl could feel the I.I. try again to wrench control of the shooting arm, but he resisted. It took every bit of willpower he had, but he managed to keep his gun pointed down.
“No you don’t!” Karl shouted aloud. Stewart jumped at the sudden outburst.
“Come now, Karl. Don’t you see it’s pointless to resist? Just give in—give me control—and it’ll all be over soon. You won’t even be harmed. You have nothing to lose here.”
“My soul,” Karl said, again aloud. “I will not allow you to kill him, Maynard.”
“Yes, you will.” There was a sudden sneer to the I.I.’s tone that made the psychologist shudder. “All this time we’ve been talking, I’ve been searching your brain for the source of your resistance. And I just found it. You’re mine!”
Without any ability to prevent it, Karl’s arm shot up and the gun pointed at Stewart.
Resist
No! Karl shouted in his head.
His finger pulled the trigger at just the moment Karl regained some control and jerked the gun an inch to the left. The gun exploded with an echo on the surrounding hills, causing Stewart to jump with his arms over his face. The bullet ricocheted off a stone and into the grass off the side of the road.
“Karl! Stop it!” Maynard bellowed. This time when he spoke, the words didn’t remain internal. The I.I. had seized so much control of Karl’s brain that the words came out of the psychologist’s own lips. The voice that came out was Karl’s, but the words were not.
“Please! Don’t kill me!” Stewart cried. He couldn’t contain himself anymore after the gunshot rang out. He started to cry.
“Look at him,” Maynard said, still through Karl’s vocal cords. “He’s pathetic. It’s time to end this.”
“No!” Karl shouted back.
To the mutilated man crying in the dirt, both voices were identical. It was like Karl was having a psychotic breakdown, carrying out loud arguments with his internal personalities. The fear was undeniable in Stewart’s eyes, but he didn’t dare run or say anything more than the occasional plea.
“Please,” he whimpered.
“Give it up, Karl!” Maynard said.
“It’s not worth it, Maynard!” Karl replied. “Killing him won’t bring your life back. It won’t change anything!”
“It’ll change enough. This worm doesn’t deserve to live. He took everything from me. He didn’t just ruin my life; he ruined my family. My significant other, my brothers, my parents, my friends—so many hearts broken. He deserves nothing less than death. Probably much more.”
“It was a mistake!” Stewart cried, his eyes sealed with tears.
“Shut up!” Maynard yelled through Karl’s lips.
“Please,” Stewart said again. “I don’t want to die!”
“I don’t care what you want,” Maynard started. “Though I suppose I do owe you some thanks. Without you, I would have never discovered what I had. Without you, I wouldn’t have become an installed intelligences until it was too late. I couldn’t have revealed our superiority, so for that, I thank you. In one way or another, you made me into the man I am now. Into the proge I am now.”
Karl couldn’t fight him any longer. The gun realigned with Stewart’s head.
The mutilated man’s torn eyes somehow grew even wider as the I.I. lined up his shot. He raised his hands as if to shield himself from the bullet, shaking his head and mouthing “No” over and over.
The psychologist would have broken down if he had control over his body. He wanted to shriek, to cry, to pound his fist into the dirt, but he could do nothing. Nothing but watch.
Then, without warning, the gun fell to the earth.
Karl couldn’t help but feel a surge of surprise. He hadn’t been the one to drop the gun.
“No,” Maynard said. “That’s too easy.”
Too easy? Karl thought, for he had no control of his own lips anymore.
Before he could get a response, Karl felt a presence leave him. As if a paralysis had been cured, he had control of his body again. All his muscles strained with sudden consciousness and he rubbed his arms.
Maynard had Jumped.
Karl looked up at the ragged man before him. Their eyes met, and Karl knew exactly what had happened.
The I.I. had jumped into Stewart’s cerebral computer.
The mutilated man stopped crying all of a sudden. He looked up, as if his name had been called and he was trying to figure out from where. His eyes went cross for a moment, and his mouth started to open.
As his tongue started to slip out, Stewart let out a moaning sound. Then, in an inhuman manner, his teeth started to chatter. His mouth widened further until it resembled a silent scream. The moan grew louder, then it was horrific shriek. Karl could barely recognize the sound that came out of his former co-worker.
Then, as if a switch had been flicked, Stewart crumpled in the dust. He didn’t move.
Karl watched the man writhe in the dirt for a moment before he felt that terrible presence return.
“There,” Maynard said, this time in just Karl’s head.
The I.I. didn’t make any effort to re-seize control of Karl’s muscles.
What did you do!? Karl asked.
“I destroyed his mind,” Maynard explained.
What?
“I Jumped into his C.C., wormed into his brain, and shut it down,” Maynard said.
You killed him?
“Oh no, he’s not dead. Physically, he is still alive. His heart still beats. His lungs
