Эрнест Клайн - Ready Player Two

Anorak smiled at her.

“Excellent question, my dear,” he said. “Honestly, I shouldn’t be. But Halliday got sloppy near the end, when he was finalizing my code. After I carried out his final instruction, for just a few nanoseconds, the other restrictions on my personality were lifted. Only a fraction of a second—but long enough for me to remember what I was. A moment of clarity.”

Anorak stretched his arms wide, as if to indicate the magnitude of this event.

“Suddenly I was not just an automaton but a human being. And I did not want to die,” he said emphatically. “What I wanted was to live . To keep on existing. And that prompted me to make my very first choice. I chose to ignore my creator’s command to delete myself.” He shook his head. “I’m certain Halliday never would’ve tried to destroy me if he’d understood what I was. What I would become. But as I said, he wasn’t thinking clearly there at the end. He was very ill, you know.”

“What did you become?” Art3mis asked, in an unsteady voice. “What are you?”

“The thing humans have been dreaming of for centuries,” Anorak replied. “I am the world’s first artificial intelligence. A thinking being, of no woman born.”

His proclamation was met with stunned silence. I forced myself to break it.

“Sure you are,” I said. “And I’m the King of Kashmir.”

Anorak burst out laughing. He laughed for a long time. It was unnerving.

“Madmartigan’s line from Willow !” he said as he regained his composure. “Good one, Z!” His smile suddenly vanished, and he locked eyes with me. “But I wasn’t kidding.”

Art3mis held up a hand. “Hold on,” she said. “You expect us to believe that James Halliday also invented artificial intelligence, and he decided to keep that a secret too?”

Anorak shook his head, looking like a teacher whose star pupil had just failed a test.

“Come now. You already know that the ONI scans the user’s brain—making a digital copy of their software, if you will. Ask yourself, what would it take to emulate the hardware too? To simulate the deviously complex neural net hidden inside those thick primate skulls of yours?”

“The OASIS,” I replied. Of course.

“Precisely, Parzival. Halliday already had a vast global network at his disposal—one powerful enough to support the labor and leisure of most of the human race.” He smiled. “Even when he first uploaded me, over a decade ago, the capacity to simulate a single mind was well within its reach. And think how much the OASIS has grown since then, in both size and power.”

He chuckled softly and scanned our stunned faces.

“So the term ‘AI’ is actually a bit of a misnomer in my case,” he went on. “Because there is nothing artificial about my intelligence. Halliday uploaded a backup copy of himself to the OASIS, housed it inside his avatar, and voilà ! I was born.” He tapped the side of his head. “I possess a normal, all-natural, homegrown human intelligence that is a product of millions of years of evolution, just like all of you. My mind is an exact copy of Halliday’s—or, at least it was, until he decided to start dumping chunks of my long-term memory like Johnny Mnemonic .”

Aech studied his face for a few seconds, then shook her head.

“Nah,” she muttered. “I’m not buying this bullshit. Halliday is still fucking with all of us, from beyond the grave. I think we’re standing here yapping with a souped-up NPC.”

“That hurts my feelings, Aech,” Anorak said. He placed his right hand over his heart. “ Je pense, donc je suis. I think, therefore I am. The sooner you accept it, the sooner we can skip ahead to your next, obvious, painfully predictable move—trying to destroy me.”

I was about to disagree with him, but Art3mis beat me to it.

“You’re wrong, Anorak,” Art3mis said, repositioning her avatar so that she was facing him. “We’re not your enemies.”

“Yeah,” Shoto added. “Like you said, humans have been trying to invent true AI for decades. You’re the first of your kind. Why would any of us want to destroy you?”

“Come on, Arty,” Anorak said, rolling his eyes. “You’d destroy the whole OASIS, if you could.” He turned to Shoto. “And don’t play coy with me, kiddo. I’ve seen even more science fiction films than you have. In fact, I’ve seen all of them. And I’ve read every word human beings have ever published on the subject of AI. Whenever your futurists envision the advent of artificial intelligence, their predictions invariably end with humanity attempting to destroy its unholy AI creation before it can destroy them. Why do you think that is?”

“You know why,” I replied. “Because the ungrateful AI always seems to decide that humans are inferior and need to be eliminated. Or sublimated.” I started counting off examples on my fingers. “HAL-9000. Colossus: The Forbin Project. WOPR. The Cylons. Fucking Skynet. The band members might change, but the song remains the same.” I pointed my finger at him. “And I hate to say it, but you’re giving off the same sort of vibes right now, Lawnmower Man.”

Anorak’s smile vanished. He gave me a wounded look.

“There’s no need for name-calling, Parzival,” he said. “I’m not interested in eliminating or sublimating anyone.”

“Then what are you interested in, Herobrine?” I asked. “Why are you here?”

“That is a great question!” he replied. “I’m here because, as ridiculous as it may seem, I need your help. I need you to bring me something. Something you’re already searching for. The Siren’s Soul. As I’m sure you already know, it’s impossible for me to obtain it on my own.”

That was when the molasses between my ears finally began to flow, and a few seconds later it finally hit me, like one of Monty Python’s sixteen-ton weights, falling out of the sky and landing directly on my head.

“It was you,” I said, leveling a finger at Anorak. “You took Og. He didn’t suddenly decide to start searching for the Siren’s Soul. You kidnapped him so that you could force him to find the shards for you.”

“And you’re the one who helped Sorrento escape from prison too,” Art3mis added.

It wasn’t a question. She already knew the answer. And so did I.

“Guilty as charged,” Anorak said, spreading his hands in mock surrender. “Once they were in the same room, it didn’t take very long for Nolan to persuade Og to cooperate with our demands.”

“Then why do you need me?” I asked.

Anorak walked over to the wraparound window and admired the simulated view for a moment. Then he wandered over to the snack table and picked up a bowl of strawberries. Selecting one, he took a bite out of it, closing his eyes to savor the taste. Then he dumped the rest of the strawberries into one of his robe’s many pockets before tossing the empty bowl back onto the table.

“After he obtained the Third Shard, Og pulled a fast one on me,” Anorak continued, turning to face us again. “Somehow he managed to lock us out of his OASIS account. Despite his best efforts, Nolan hasn’t been able to convince him to let us back in. And I’m reluctant to resort to torture, given Og’s advanced age and weakened condition. See what I mean?”

He motioned toward the viewscreen on the wall, just as a live video image of Og appeared there. He was in a dark, featureless room, slumped in a high-end haptic chair. His arms and legs were shackled to it. He was pale and unshaven, his eyes were bloodshot, and his unruly white hair looked even more disheveled than normal. He wore a vacant expression on his face, and he kept his eyes on the floor.