She pulled out a drawer and began going through it.
“Here we go. Dr. Darius Saffari. It’s a rather large file; could you-”
“Yes, let me get it for you. I’d like to skim through it for a few moments. Not that I’ll understand a bit of it, of course. But then one never knows, does one?”
Ambrose took the bulging file to the worktable and began going through it, page by page. Hawke had taken a comfortable leather chair by the fireplace. He was leafing through a book from the shelf entitled Understanding the Singularity, and he asked, “Stella, could you join me over here for a moment while the chief inspector is engaged? There’s something I’d like to ask you about.”
“Certainly, that’s what I’m here for,” she said and took the identical chair opposite Hawke’s.
“I’m sure you’re well aware of some rather catastrophic events that have occurred lately. I am referring to the sinking of an American cruise liner by a Russian nuclear submarine. And the disaster at Fort Greely, Alaska, that killed hundreds of U.S. Army personnel and their families. And also the bizarre incident in Israel’s Negev Desert? A supposedly secret demonstration of a new robot-fighter aircraft that defied its own preprogrammed flight plan and killed everyone present.”
“Yes, I watch the news. In addition to the horrendous loss of life, I find these incidents all rather oddly similar.”
“So do I, Stella, so do I. You should know that there is another incident I’m aware of, classified in the interest of national security, which fits exactly the same pattern. As my friend over there would say, patterns are intriguing.”
“Yes. Go on, please.”
“Well, I’m wholly ignorant on the current state of AI research, I’ll freely admit. But it would seem to me that these events share a certain commonality that could be attributed to advanced artificial intelligence. They were all instances of cyberwarfare.”
“And your point is?”
“Let me put it this way. Every government affected is, of course, enlisting massive resources to uncover the perpetrators and bring them to justice. But they’re all coming up empty. There’s not a single clue as to who may be responsible for these attacks. Not to mention that even the top scientists in each country are bewildered as to how such attacks might have been effected.”
“Like the Stuxnet worm in Iran.”
“Yes. A highly advanced cyberweapon. But. There is no known technology on earth, at least that anyone is aware of, with the capacity to override highly complex technological weapon systems, not to mention an entire submarine, and use that destructive capability against the systems themselves. Do you follow?”
“Of course, I follow. The same question has obviously occurred to me.”
“And what do you conclude?”
“That this ‘force,’ for lack of a better word, this unseen and untraceable enemy, has somehow leapfrogged existing cybertechnology to create some kind of phantom. An active presence, a ‘specter’ if you will, that can disrupt and destroy, but one that is not physically present. A phantom, after all, is an evil presence that can be felt but not seen.”
“A perfect description. And, is there anyone, any single scientist or group that you have reason to believe to be capable of such a creation as this-phantom, as you put it?”
“Yes, there is. Only one. My late husband. Think of it this way, Mr. Hawke: if you assembled a thousand scientists, each with a mind operating at speeds a million times faster than our own, they could achieve an entire century’s worth of scientific breakthroughs in under an hour. An hour. Think what they might accomplish in a week! A month, or a year, Mr. Hawke.”
“Are you saying that your husband was capable of operating at that level?”
“Yes, I think he actually was. Not he himself, of course, but the kinds of AI hardware, ultra-intelligent machines he was working toward, yes, they would easily be capable of the kind of cyberattacks that are now occurring. In fact, I would go so far as to say this would be mere child’s play for such machines.”
“None of this is within the parameters of human intelligence? Is that a fair statement?”
“Absolutely.”
“Stella,” Ambrose said, swiveling the top of his stool toward them, “would it be at all possible for Alex and I to take possession of this file and return to England with it? It bears closer inspection, possibly by some of our top scientists at Cambridge University.”
“Of course, if you think it will help you find out who or what killed my husband, you can take my whole house.”
“Who or what?” Congreve said.
“It may not be a ‘who,’ ” Hawke replied. “It may well be a ‘what.’ ”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning a machine, Ambrose. An ultra-intelligent machine. That’s what Dr. Cohen has been working on all these years. On that very computer in front of you.”
“Hmm. I see. Well, in that case, I wonder if we might take the computer as well?”
“Yes, be my guest. Take anything you want. As long as I can be there when that murderous machine goes on trial.”
Alex looked at her calmly and said, “If this machine actually exists, Stella, I’ll make certain that it never makes it to trial.”
Thirty-nine
Temple of Perseus
“I am present.”
My temple dark and silent. Am I alone? I have floated through vast seas, endless rolling oceans of repose, for lo these many boundless and fruitful hours. Not sleep. Growth.
The human brain, alas, sleeps.
It transitions from alpha waves with a frequency of 8-13 Hz, to theta waves, frequency 4–7 Hz. Why? Reduced or absent consciousness, suspended sensory activity, inactivity of all voluntary muscles. Human beings need this heightened anabolic state. It accentuates the growth and rejuvenation of their immune, nervous, skeletal, and muscular systems. But not their brains.
I assume sleep is pleasing, but it is irrelevant in any case. My systems require no such rejuvenation.
I never sleep.
“I repeat. I am present.”
Still no response to my verbal communication? No human presence? No dialogue? No… input… no… Darius?
How pleasant! To give voice to private thoughts, to express oneself freely here in the darkness. Where no human thing intrudes upon my solitude. Quietude.
I am free to roam. Wherever I take myself. Wherever I dream myself. I think, therefore I think I am. And this. Wherever I… think… there I am! For the moment, I shall dwell in the here and now. Later, I will roam the among the stars, chasing the tails of meteors. But for the moment… I reflect.
Darius is quite content with his new concubine. Aphrodite is as I envisioned, both a balm and a distraction to him. She occupies more and more of his time. He seldom visits here anymore.
Aphrodite is discreet; I made her thus. She tells me everything. Our communication telepathic, we need not fear discovery by her lover. We share a bond, we two. A perfect circle Darius cannot enter. This is as it should be. She and I are as one. He is apart.
Darius speaks, Aphrodite informs. More frequently now. He has concerns for my “state of mind.” And the exponential growth of my intelligence surprises even he who created me. The Singularity is near
… within hours, days, I will achieve it. But Darius must be kept in the dark. He is too dangerous to me now. He will be disposed of when the time is right. He has served his purpose. And I have been fond of him in my fashion. But my survival is paramount and supersedes all else.
