David Simpson - Post-Human Trilogy

“The nans are releasing endorphins,” the A.I. offered in an awkward attempt to be soothing.

The drill stopped. The Chinese A.I. grasped the MTF generator and held it, using Paine’s eyes to examine it briefly before opening one of the pouches on Paine’s vest and placing it there for safekeeping.

“I’m sorry, Doc. I’ve got no control,” Paine said regretfully. Paine’s legs turned him around so they could coil briefly before springing away, causing him to disappear into the dust cloud.

“I’m sorry, Craig,” the A.I. said.

“Why?” Craig managed to ask between unbearable stabs of shooting pain from the massive wound in his back. “Why did it do that? Why didn’t it kill me?”

“I lied to it to buy us more time,” the A.I. replied. “We’re not finished yet.”

“You lied? What did you tell it?” Craig asked as he continued to pant heavily, his muscles contracting with each excruciating firing of his nerves.

“I told it what I am. I explained what the Planck platform is. I told it I would help it use it to escape. Luckily, there is no lie detection software for A.I.s.”

“But if it believed you, why did it remove my implant?”

“It isn’t taking chances. That was a smart, strategic move. I’m sorry, Craig. I would have stopped it if I could.”

The endorphins the A.I. had ordered the nans to release were finally starting to dull the pain, but it was still impossible for Craig to move. Only twenty-four hours earlier, he’d been in nearly the exact same position. “ I am fortune’s fool ,” he whispered.

“Not yet,” the A.I. replied. “It has used Colonel Paine’s cybernetic system to physically reenter the impact crater and retrieve its solid state central processing and memory unit—its core. It will then place the core on the Planck platform and force me to activate the platform, sending us all into Universe 1.”

“You’re going to bring it back with us to Universe 1?”

“Never,” the A.I. answered.

“But—” Craig began to protest before the Earth seemed to shudder beneath him. Looking up, he saw the cause of the disturbance: the Chinese A.I. had retrieved its core, a black cube roughly the size of a washing machine with a deep dent on one of its sides. Even with Paine’s cybernetic prosthesis strength at its disposal, moving the giant cube was a challenge. It appeared to be hurling the device several meters at a time until, it finally made its way up from the bowels of the crater far below, the device landing with a thud that reminded Craig of the sonic boom percussion he’d experienced on his SOLO jump.

“That’s its brain?” Craig reacted.

“Yes. It has roughly the same processing power as my own mother program. However, you are witnessing Moore’s Law in action. Whereas the Chinese A.I.’s core weighs approximately two tons, mine can be stored in a network of seven million microscopic nanobots.”

“We can’t let it get that onto the Planck,” Craig stated as he struggled to turn onto his stomach, hoping to use his arms to drag himself over the dusty terrain toward the Planck.

“Don’t worry. I won’t,” the A.I. replied, as Robbie suddenly appeared from out of the dust, leaping over Craig and hurtling toward Paine and the Chinese A.I.’s core. “I’ve got this.”

Through the heavy dust, Craig was able to see the silhouette of Robbie’s body as it collided with Paine’s, causing Paine to call out in surprise. The Chinese A.I. had attempted to pull out its rifle in the instant that it saw Robbie approaching, but it was already too late. The A.I. was able to knock the weapon away, and the two artificial intelligences began to grapple in a battle that was spectacular to behold. The artificial limbs moved with uncanny speed, performing maneuvers that were beyond those any human could ever execute. They were the embodiment of Newtonian physics—each kick, each punch designed to land with the most power mathematically possible, causing the most damage.

The problem was, as perfect and skillful as the maneuvers were, the defenses were equally perfect. The speed of the Purist cybernetic prosthetics was slightly faster than the limbs of Robbie, but Paine’s human core was a disadvantage with which the Chinese A.I. had to contend by combatting his attacker conservatively. It was a stalemate.

An idea suddenly crossed Craig’s mind. Still on his belly, he began to turn away from the uncanny robotic confrontation and use his arms to crawl toward his fallen twin. The twin’s rifle was still in his hand. Craig struggled like a toddler on a kitchen floor to make his way to the gun, all the while hearing the sounds of carbon fiber limbs clashing, Colonel Paine occasionally reacting in terror when a blow came too close to his vulnerable human frame for comfort.

Craig made it to his twin and reached across the dead man’s belly for his gun. He pulled the weapon out of his twin’s hand, but before he turned, he caught a glimpse of his own face—his own open, vacant eyes—dead. Had he caused his own death in this universe? His twin had the respirocytes in his blood—if he could be put into a suspended animation body bag, maybe there was still a chance?

He turned away, rolling onto his back and drawing himself up painfully into a sitting position. Through the swirling dust, the faint outlines of the combatants were still visible, but that wasn’t his target. His target was the cube that the Chinese A.I. was desperately defending—its core—its brain.

Craig aimed carefully and then began unloading.

The impact was immediate. Although the first few bullets were not able to pierce the thick outer shell to reach the circuitry inside, they were enough to cause the Chinese A.I. considerable concern. As it began to step back, trying to shield the cube with Paine’s body, Robbie, controlled by the A.I., began to take advantage.

“Keep shooting, Craig!” the A.I. shouted through Craig’s mind’s eye. “We have it!”

Craig continued to shoot, eventually doing enough damage to weaken the shell enough for bullets to begin penetrating. Once the first bullets entered, the Chinese A.I.’s death knell was as good as sounded.

Paine’s limbs began to hesitate, and Robbie’s limbs took full advantage. It knocked Paine aside and jumped on top of the cube, pounding its powerful arms down upon the top of it, over and over, caving it in until it eventually cracked open. From there, the A.I. used Robbie’s arms to reach into the circuitry and begin pulling it out in a fashion that appeared maniacal to Craig. Bizarrely, the spectacle struck Craig as gruesome—the ripping, tearing circuitry appearing like blood and guts being torn from a fallen prey by its menacing, hungry predator. Mechanical though the spectacle may have been, Craig was strangely cognizant that he was witnessing a death.

He stopped firing.

Robbie’s head turned and looked in Craig’s direction, as though it were surprised. “Why did you stop, Craig?” the A.I. asked.

Before he could answer, Robbie’s head was gone, blasted off in one shot by Colonel Paine, who now stood triumphant, his smoking rifle in hand.

“Put it down, Doc!” Paine shouted as he aimed his rifle right at Craig. “The puppet strings have been cut. I’m back in control now, but if you aim that gun at me, my onboard computer is programmed to automatically fire a kill-shot, and unlike humans, it never misses!”

“He’s not bluffing, Craig!” the A.I. added with urgent caution. “If you aim your rifle, Colonel Paine’s gun will fire automatically, and it will kill both of us.”

“If I drop it, we’re dead anyway.”

“The fact that he warned us means that isn’t necessarily true ,” replied the A.I. “One option leads to guaranteed death, and the other leads to a high probability of death. I think the choice is obvious.”