Daniel Suarez - Influx

“We can still handle this. Grady will have difficulty convincing anyone of anything, and every time he tries is an opportunity for us to grab him. We’re still in control.”

Just then the office door opened again and Alexa entered Hedrick’s office, looking quite upset.

“Graham, I need to talk with you about Hibernity.”

Hedrick sighed. “And I need to talk with you about supporting field operations. Mr. Morrison tells me that his team didn’t know about the steam tunnels beneath Columbia University. It was your job to—”

“What’s going on at Hibernity?”

Hedrick exchanged looks with Morrison—then back at her. “Hibernity isn’t your concern.”

“Yes, it is. I’ve seen evidence of terrible abuse there that must be investigated immediately.”

Hedrick scowled. “Alexa, I have got no less than two major crises under way at the moment. Now, if this relates to locating Mr. Grady—by all means. Find him. Because he’s still missing.”

She stood unmoving. “I thought the purpose of Hibernity was to safeguard dangerous intellects in a humane environment until their knowledge was no longer a threat to civilization.”

“I really don’t have time for this.”

“Is that its purpose?”

He pointed toward the door. “My dear, I will gladly talk about this later. Hibernity isn’t going anywhere, and we’ve got a major crisis.” He then squinted at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be monitoring the search for Mr. Grady?”

Morrison stared at her. “Alexa was there, Graham.”

“What do you mean ‘there’? Where?”

“That was my second bit of bad news: Alexa was at the op. Out in public. In New York. Isn’t that right, Alexa?”

Hedrick turned on her. “I thought I ordered you to support intelligence operations here. We went over this; you’re not a field operative.”

She stared back defiantly. “It was a good thing I went.”

“I expressly forbade you to participate. This was a tech level four operation—and what you fail to appreciate, my dear, is that your very body is tech level eight. You should not be moving about in public. Ever.”

Alexa stared at him.

“I’ve been too indulgent with you—too lax.”

“When can we discuss Hibernity?”

He pointed to the door. “Make an appointment with my assistant.”

“Graham—”

“You mean Mr. Director !”

She cast another look at them both, then turned on her heels and left. The doors swung shut automatically behind her.

Morrison watched her exit. “What was she doing there?”

Hedrick turned on him. “And you, why didn’t you tell me she defied me?”

“I only learned about it after the fact—when the AIs were going through all the surveillance cameras looking for leads.”

“You mean she didn’t tell you she was there?”

“It’s worse than that. She caught Jon Grady—and she let him go.”

Hedrick leaned back in his chair trying to process this news. “I… I don’t believe that.”

“She’s clever. I’ll grant her that. She went through all records on Grady, put two and two together, and decided she was going to show us up. Capture Grady herself.”

“And she didn’t tell your team about the steam tunnels?”

Morrison shook his head.

“That’s why you didn’t know.”

“We were relying on her.”

“But she let Mr. Grady go?”

“There’s a surveillance video you need to see—something from the streets outside the university. Alexa knows… ”

Alexa moved through the supercomputingcluster, the bulk-diamond security doors sliding aside as she approached. She rarely came down here but hoped her access rights would allow her to go where she pleased. So far they had.

Before long she came to the control center, where a room filled with technicians at holographic workstations monitored the vast quantum computer networks that powered BTC global operations. In truth, almost everything—including malfunctions—was handled by AIs, but humans were always in the loop to approve major changes. There had been rogue AIs before, and now BTC engineers had developed AIs that were dedicated to detecting and eliminating incipient singularities before they emerged.

But mostly the BTC IT workforce conceived of new designs to deal with evolving needs of the organization. Coding was now too complex for humans to engage in (since most programs now had billions of lines of machine code). Thus, software was more frequently “grown” in a genetic process whereby millions of virtual generations were cycled through to evolve the most capable solution. They’d grown systems far too complex for the most brilliant human brain to comprehend.

As she moved through the IT cluster, techs nodded to her with broad smiles, some craning their necks to catch sight of her.

“Evening, Alexa.”

“Hi, Alexa.”

She nodded to them as she moved past, her sharp eyes on the lookout for someone in particular. When she saw him through a diamond wall that shielded the security systems section, she changed course and came up alongside him beyond the barrier.

Alexa rapped on the clear plane of diamond with her ringed hand. Senior Security Systems Analyst Hiro Pinsa looked up from his conversation with a coworker—and then a broad grin swept across his face. Pinsa was a fair-complected, diminutive Asian man of about forty. A brilliant computer scientist, he was in middle management with BTC info security. She’d worked with him before on internal projects for Hedrick.

Pinsa nodded to the man he was speaking to, then rushed out to meet her. The security doors slid open as he emerged.

“Alexa. What brings you down into the depths?”

She felt bad for doing it—but given the situation, she had little choice. Alexa put on her most disarming, sheepish smile as she walked up to him.

He sucked in a breath as she stood over him, inches away—a full head taller.

“Hiro, can you help me with a problem?”

Hiro was sweating as he led her to a closed section of supercomputing terminals. These were sealed booths for confidential review of surveillance data. “I really shouldn’t be doing this, Alexa.”

“I know, but who else can I trust, Hiro?”

He glanced back at her as if she’d made his dearest dreams come true. “I’m glad you feel that way. Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“But there’ll be a record, won’t there?” She glanced up at the ceiling, knowing that surveillance dust—cameras and microphones the size of dust particles—were sprayed over every surface.

He turned back, smiling as he stopped at a closed workstation door. “That’s why I chose the new wing. The surveillance grid isn’t up yet.”

She smiled at him. “You’re so clever.” She poked his chest.

Pinsa laughed as he touched the door. It unlocked to his genetic code, and then he spread his hand to show the workstation with its broad holographic display surface. “This one has access to the Hibernity surveillance framework.” He turned to her. “If you don’t mind my asking, Alexa, why do you need to go through their security logs? And why the secrecy?”

“There may have been some violations of BTC procedures with regard to the treatment of prisoners.”

He frowned. “Really?”

“If it’s true, I don’t want anyone to know I’m reviewing archives. So please keep that confidential, Hiro.” She wrapped her arm around his. “I can trust you, right?”

He gazed up into her eyes, and she could see the sheen of perspiration on his skin.

He nodded vigorously. “You know you can always trust me, Alexa. Always. I would do anything for you.”