Third Exodus: In the Days of Humans, #1

In the Days of Humans:

Third Exodus

Terry R. Hill

In the Days of Humans:

Third Exodus

Terry R. Hill

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

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Copyright © 2012 TXu 1-880-531 by Terry R. Hill

Cover art by Howard David Johnson

Edited by Todd Barselow

Final Copy review by Kevin Brockus

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database, retrieval system, or torrent web service, without the prior written permission of the author.

Published 2013, 2014 (2).

Dedication

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To my children, so they know that anything is possible at any stage of their lives when they put their minds to it. And on occasion, they will change the world in unexpected ways.

Contents

Legend

Preface

1 And It Awoke

2 A Need to Leave

3 Departing Earth Orbit

4 Arrival at Mars

5 Deployment of Colony Crew

6 Onward

7 One-Way Trip

8 That’s Strange...

9 In Memory

10 Depot

11 A Fresh Coat of Paint

12 Severed Ties

13 The Time to Move is Now

14 Vanish into Silence

15 Before the Storm

16 Makemake

17 The Promise of a Green Mars

18 Into the Dark

Epilogue

About The Author

Legend

Third Exodus is an epic story containing spans of time and extreme distances within our solar system. Therefore the author felt it necessary to include some sign posts so the reader will not accidently get lost in time and space during the journey.

Large jumps in time will be indicated with an emboldened date stamp and generally accompanied by a brief description of the location.

Changes in location within the solar system within a chapter are preceded by one of the following symbols associated with the new location for the scene following.

The Sun

Earth

Mars

Ceres

Makemake

Nandu

Preface

Humankind was successful in creating true artificial intelligence (AI). But in the emergent conflict between Humanity and Machine, each wanting to control their individual destinies, the Earth was devastated. Some might say that humankind won...

Through an unforeseen series of events that lead to the awakening of the artificial intelligence, those who isolated the African continent, shielded Africa from the worldwide devastation. In the end, the continent was the only part of the planet that didn’t regress back to the Stone Age. This island of humankind became the last foothold of civilization.

One hundred years later, the continent regained its footing and continued to develop in ways that rivaled that of the western world prior to the machine awakening. However, due to rapidly vanishing resources on Earth, the scientists and the government of the United African Nations set in motion a grand program to leave the planet to find the needed resources and possibly a new home for humans.

Col. Adamini, commanding the spaceship Yamakarā and a small crew, who were delivered to Mars, are tasked with exploring the solar system to find and make a new home. When confronted by the dark politics that are manipulating the space program, and ultimately the fate of all on Earth, Col. Adamini must resolve where his loyalties lie, or play God with the lives of millions.

Through the struggle to save humanity, the crew of the Yamakarā found an unlikely ally required for their mutual survival.

The writing of this novel was first and foremost an attempt to provide a compelling story that would transport the reader, at least temporarily, to a credible history of our future. But it was also an exercise to bridge the worlds of science fiction, science reality, and science probability.

Much of the science fiction available today focuses on the entertainment of the reader while only a minority uses the genre and abstractions available to provide some commentary on the human condition and associated themes. While I touch on these elements fairly heavily as well, I did want to provide the reader some realistic sense of current technology, and some not-so-realistic technology, to point out what advancements would really be required for the world of space exploration to become a reality; as well as the survival of our species when presented with a similar situation as is found in this book.

Had I written this novel with the plot line entirely based upon the current technology, current prioritization, and funding of advancements in space travel, and if the human species made it through the first apocalyptic scenario, which is well within the realm of possibility, it certainly would not have survived the second.

Admittedly, I am quite biased in my desire to have societal interest, focus, and representative funding for the technology required to propel us permanently into space. My hope is that this book will help start a dialogue that addresses not only the true frailty of our survival situation, but what is required to provide some insurance against future potentialities.

Some of the themes I address in this book are not new and had their genesis with the works and writing of Vernor Vinge and his definition of an eventual singularity where computers become aware. My personal feelings are fairly represented in this work and can be summarized like most technological development in the past: if we proceed forward with reckless abandon, then it will be to our own folly.

There is a distinct reason why the series of events are paralleled to other AI’s that become aware in other stories. It is not due to lack of creativity, but rather a head-nod toward the credibility of the scenario. That alternate future was written in The Terminator, co-written by James Cameron, Gale Anne Hurd and William Wisher Jr. with incredible insight and released in 1984—long before the internet or even the realistic promise of AI that is present today. And as irony would have it, after I began writing this book in August of 2012, the following January 22, 2013 it was announced via scitechdaily.com that DARPA began funding research in a similar area of technology development. DARPA’s new Cyber Targeted-Attack Analyzer program looks at how information is connected and moves to uncover and prevent targeted attacks without a human having to direct it. That is almost verbatim from the technology in the first chapter of this book that sets the stage for this dystopian future.

Shortly before publication, July 23, 2013, it was reported that researchers from the University of Zurich and ETH had made breakthroughs with so-called neuromorphic chips to imitate the brain’s information processing abilities in real-time. They demonstrated this by building an artificial sensory processing system that exhibits cognitive abilities.

This book is not intended to be a lecture on the evils of artificial intelligence. It is intended to be a voice in our collective conscience that warns of the responsibility and care that is required if and when we give birth to a radical new technology and introduce it into our world. And with some words in the monologue later in the book inspired by the insightful thoughts of Charles Eisenstein, the book is meant to give hope to a better way; a better way that is necessary for us all.

This work of course would not have been possible without many individuals. First and foremost I have to thank my wife, who provided me the time, support, an eye for what would interest most readers and the late nights with me in front of the computer to make this book a reality. I would also like to thank my brother whose observations resulted in significant changes throughout the manuscript, making the storyline measurably stronger.

I want to thank a small circle of friends: M. L. Stephens, an incredible writer and friend, and Dr. John DeGarmo, a saint on Earth who has fostered more troubled children than one can count and written exceptional literature for others on similar paths; both close friends and inspirations that demonstrate it is possible to make our dreams come to life and our Bucket Lists reality. Kevin Brockus who did an excellent job with the final copy review; Dave Stockwell who provided insight that resulted in significant changes in how I addressed some of the characters and kept me technically honest; Pete Taylor and Cliff Roberts who gave me the insight of hard-core science fiction readers with over eighty years of reading the genre between them; Jenny Lynn Putnam who pulled no punches, kept me honest, and held the magnifying glass over areas needing more attention, resulting in pure goodness. And lastly, to my editor Todd Barselow, who through magic or advanced technology from the future, was able to whip this story into what it is today, all the way from the opposite side of the planet. To all of you who collectively hold more than one hundred years of experiences with me, my sincerest appreciation!

Terry. R. Hill

1 And It Awoke

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When suffering knocks at your door and you say there is no seat for him, he tells you not to worry because he has brought his own stool.

― Chinua Achebe (16 November 1930 – 21 March 2013)

The third exodus of Mankind from Africa occurred in 2177 A.D. ... when they left Earth.

April 01, 2023 12:45 P.M. - Sandia National Laboratories. Office Of The Director.

The suit was uncomfortable. Dr. Roberts wiped his sweating palms against his pants before nervously straightening his jacket for the tenth time. After staring at the heavy wooden door before him for far too long, he forced himself to knock. The cold touch of the doorknob reflected the warmth he held for these visits to the director, which were never to be taken lightly. He opened the door slowly, as he knew he was expected. Okay, let’s see why I was called in this time.

Oh, do come in, Dr. Roberts, and have a seat, came the tired voice from the opposite end of the room.

As he stepped inside and closed the door, old memories sparked to life. He was reminded of the many grade school visits to the principal’s office. Hacking into the school’s website had been a harmless childhood prank, but the school administrators were furious. In hindsight, reputations had most likely been bruised because a kid with a knack for computers and software programming was able to bypass the system’s firewalls. Their constant attempts at making the system impenetrable were laughable and he proved it to them each time they tried. He had a gift for working with computers, and a knack for letting that get him into trouble.

There was something about the offices of power; they all seemed to smell of history and fear. The Director’s office was no different and had the added stale smell of yesterday’s coffee. As he stepped onto the small patch of carpet in front of the Director’s desk, his thoughts were brought back to why he was here. I’m being called to the carpet, he thought with a smirk lurking behind his lips. He imagined that the patch of fabric beneath his feet was a sardonic example of the Director’s sense of humor and he had to admit that it was clever, though not appreciated.

Yes, Director. What can I do for you this afternoon?

Dr. Roberts, I’m sure you can guess why I asked you to come in today. As you well know, your Blue Sentinel Program is behind schedule and grossly over budget. The Pentagon and Homeland Security are losing their sense of humor about it.

Yes, sir, but...

But that isn’t really what has them concerned and more than a little nervous about you meeting your milestones. As you are aware, the outside threat to our nation’s secure computer systems—military and commercial—is growing exponentially every day. With the multiplier effect of thousands of hacked computers per every enemy cyber agent, the number of hostile attacks is almost surpassing geometric growth. Doctor, right now they are saying that they’re already starting to lose ground in fighting off the attacks. The Pentagon thinks that without Blue Sentinel, they might be overwhelmed within the year.

For the first time, the gravity of the situation settled down upon his shoulders and the true weight of what sat in the balance became real. It was up to him now. It was time to re-double their efforts now that the responsibility of keeping cyber anarchy at bay had been squarely placed in his lap. It’s not like they were twiddling their thumbs, it’s just that this was a very difficult problem to solve. Typical government brass. They still believe that you can have Faster, Better and Cheaper. Whoever taught them that clearly forgot to mention you can have any two of the three, but not all three simultaneously! A few moments later, still on autopilot and deep in his thoughts, he thanked the Director and excused himself to get back to work.

April 08, 2023 9:45 P.M. SAST (South Africa Standard Time) - At a private, rural home overlooking the Magaliesberg Protected Natural Area, northwest of Johannesburg, South Africa

Having just poured himself a glass of red wine, Jonathan picked up the glass along with his computer tablet and walked toward the back patio doors, admiring the new Persian rug along the way. Arriving at the doors, he looked back at the new rug and smiled. The satisfaction was not so much at how it made the room and fit within the space or how luxuriously soft it was under his feet, but the fact that he could actually afford the real thing. He scanned the cavernous living space and took inventory of all the expensive pieces from around the world that he had surrounded himself. There was a lot in this world that he wanted and he had accumulated much of it one way or another. He slid open the door and then closed it with the quiet hiss that only quality construction could bring.

The patio chair gave way comfortably as he sat down and propped up his feet to balance the computer on his lap. Summer was his favorite time in Johannesburg; the days were warm and the nights were cool. Tonight was a new moon that left the sky studded with stars revealing little of the nature reserve a few hundred meters off into the darkness. From his patio chair, the sounds of the night and the wilderness were comforting, but he might feel differently had he been out in the middle of it all. Yes, I have done well for myself, he thought as he mentally patted himself on the back. He had a job as a local insurance agent, his wife was more beautiful than any in their social circle, and his sweet daughter—the apple of his eye—would rival his wife in beauty and intelligence in a few short years. This was the life that he had always wanted for himself; so what if he had to bend the rules a little along the way?

He heard the soft hiss of the patio door opening again and without turning around, he greeted his wife. Hey Sweet, why don’t you pour yourself a cup’a something and join me out here? Suddenly, without warning, his head careened to one side threatening to completely separate from his shoulders, followed closely by the cold touch of intense pain as it crawled quickly from the right side of his head, consuming his consciousness, hastening his descent into darkness.

Light and sound swirled in a muddle in his mind. Time and place were no longer anchored and all was clouded with pain throbbing through his head. There were murky shapes of people standing in the dimly lit room, muffled sounds that resembled someone talking through a blanket. He tried to rub his eyes but his hands would not respond. They were uncomfortably wrapped behind the back of the wooden chair on which he sat. The bite of plastic zip-ties around his wrists overpowered the ache in his head. Freezing water splashed his face, biting his skin with the unique burn that is brought by ice.

... Mr. Niebrugge, can you hear me? came the question with a thick Afrikaner accent. Nothing to say, eh? Well, perhaps some more ice water might help wake you up a little more?

Jonathan was able to clear his mind enough to understand what the last question implied. No, no more.

Ahhh! I see that the cat didn’t get your tongue after all. Welcome back, Mr. Niebrugge, continued the voice.

The fog in his mind was clearing and he was now able to focus on the room. The chair to which he was bound was in the center of a poorly lit room that might have been an abandoned office with no discernible light shining in from outside. The carpet was worn and packed with orange dust from the outside world. There were two men dressed in faded green military fatigues standing to either side of the door in front of him; they looked as if their families may have once come from the area around the Congo. Another man stood in the corner and looked as if he might be from the northeastern part of the continent. He seemed only vaguely aware of what was going on as he focused on the mobile computer held in his hands. The man who had been speaking and offering up freezing water, paced slowly in front of Jonathan. He sounded as if he might be from the blue-collar section of Johannesburg. As the man bent forward to get a closer look at Jonathan, it was clear that he also needed a shave and a haircut, and for that matter, a dentist.

His host continued to speak in a manner that was antipodal to what his physical appearance would lead one to believe. Have you had a good look around, Mr. Niebrugge? Might you be ready to listen to me so that you can find out why we have the pleasure of spending this fine evening together?

Yes, uh, where am I? What is going on? Who are you guys?

Ahhh, well, all in good time, Mr. Niebrugge. Let’s just say that we haven’t taken you far, but far enough that you won’t be found anytime soon. His host retrieved a chair from behind Jonathan and sat down, leaning over the back and facing him. Jonathan, may I call you Jonathan? Good. Jonathan, we (sweeping his hand around the room) represent a group of people who are very interested in extending their operations into Africa, but let’s just say that we do not really want to call too much attention to ourselves and our goings on.

Jonathan had not burned any bridges lately so this nonsense was taking its toll on his patience. They certainly should count themselves lucky that my hands are tied. So what does that have to do with me?

Now Jonathan, let’s not have any attitude; I would hate to have my friends here help you with that. Where was I? Yes, we are in need of your services to help us, well, not to draw any unwanted attention by local and international parties that might want to interfere with our plans.

"Again, what the hell does this have to do with me, asshole? I’m just an insurance salesman for god’s sake!" yelled Jonathan.

The man who had been speaking turned and nodded to the man sitting in the corner. The seated man sat his computer down on the floor and walked over to Jonathan. He was a much more imposing figure as he stood to his full height. He leaned over to rest his heavy left hand on Jonathan’s right shoulder and with one swift motion accelerated his right fist into Jonathan’s upper gut causing all of the breath to escape, leaving him gasping for air that refused to return to his lungs.

The Afrikaner spoke in a calm but serious tone, I would rather not have to do that again, Jonathan, but that will be up to you. I should let you know that we do not have the time to play around with the lies that you like to tell your dear sweet wife. Mr. Niebrugge, we are very much aware of your life on the internet. You are someone who knows how to go out and...get what he wants...and leave virtually no trace that you were there. But I must say that I am surprised that your lovely wife has never questioned how you could sustain the lifestyle that you have on the wages of an insurance salesman.

What? You’ve obviously got me confused with someone else! My money is old money from my family... As he was talking, the leader of the group nodded again at his impressively tall counterpart and Jonathan received another blow to the stomach. It felt as if a few ribs might have broken that time. By the piercing pain, it was near certain that the thug had put his fist all the way through him. Can’t inhale! Oh God it hurts! Got to find some way to breathe. The moment before he was sure to black out, the spasms of his body subsided enough for him to drag in a hint of a breath.

Once his gasping and gagging had quieted and the sound of rushing blood in his head had gone away, he spat out the bile in his mouth and looked back at the asshole responsible.

Jonathan, Jonathan, do not play me for a fool. I do not have the time and your body cannot withstand much more of what my friend here will continue to deliver. Let me just say that last year you took some money of ours from one of the many banking institutions you visited to make your small withdrawals. While the amount of the money that you withdrew was not significant enough to cause us any problems, we were quite intrigued by your style and ability to cover your tracks so well. But, as good as you were, we spent the last year waiting, watching, and learning how you operated. And we have come to the conclusion that you would be an excellent addition to our team and are the right person to facilitate some online activity on our behalf.

Yeah, okay, so I do a little borrowing to supplement my lifestyle. So what of it?

Well, Jonathan, my business associates need you to set up a worm or a virus to go out and penetrate some communication systems in various locations around the world, similar to what you did with the banking institutions, so that normal commerce and transmissions continue on, but any governmental snooping, especially from the United States, is unable to detect or eavesdrop on any of the communication—of any kind—between the people I represent. A cyber-cloaking field, if you will.

Whoa! No way, man. That is some serious stuff. I have been doing little gigs for fun and to make a little money. But this is screwing around with the US government! As far as they would be concerned I’d be a terrorist and they’d put me away forever. No way man! Just go ahead and beat the shit of out me, but I’m NOT playing with those boys! he exclaimed. What the hell did they think he did online? No way would he start playing cat and mouse with the United States; they had declared war over lesser things than what these guys wanted him to do. They all stared at him for a few ticks of a clock that came from some dark corner of the room. Beads of fear-filled sweat began to roll down his face as Jonathan awaited their response.

I see. We suspected that you might have that opinion, Jonathan. The man in the chair in front of him stood up slowly and moved the chair from where he had originally taken it. He moved back into Jonathan’s view. "You see, Jonathan, despite the recent attitude adjustments we have helped you with, I am not going to beat and threaten you to do what we want done. For that, in the end, is self-defeating and leads to a substandard product. It is my desire for you to want to help us and to produce the absolute best code possible. So, to build that burning desire to help us, we brought along someone to assist you with your motivation." He signaled one of the two men standing by either side of the door in front of Jonathan. The man on the left opened the door, turned on the light in what seemed to be a small room and stepped aside so that Jonathan could get a clear view of its occupant. His stomach tightened and a cold, sick chill raced down his body when he realized it was his thirteen-year-old daughter, bound and gagged. Her eyes were wide with fear and confusion and the muffled sounds of her voice quivered with terror. What the hell?! What kind of animals are these guys?

Jonathan erupted with effort; straining with all his strength to free his hands, all the while cursing his captors, Damn you, you son-of-a-bitch! How dare you kidnap my daughter as blackmail! What kind of a sick bastard are...

He did not get to finish his question; the leader quickly rotated around and delivered an open-handed blow to Jonathan’s right ear, nearly bursting his eardrum. Pain shot through his skull and felt like the swift stab of an ice pick.

While he struggled to recover his wits and discern between the ringing in his head and what sounded like voices in the room, the man continued, Now, Mr. Niebrugge, we have already talked about your attitude. So, please pay attention to this next part; as long as you do as we ask, nothing will happen to her. However, if there are any problems... he signaled the man who had opened to door to the closet. The man in the green fatigues smiled and went into the closet and removed the gag from Jonathan’s daughter’s mouth.

Daddy! What is going on? Daddy, help me! she sobbed with the terror that she had previously only known in her nightmares. The pleading of his daughter resonated through every fiber of his body. Her guard grabbed her by the back of her hair and forced his mouth onto hers and explored all that he could with his tongue. She struggled against her molester but his sweaty, bristled face stifled her cries for help. Watching his daughter being treated this way uncapped a cocktail of fear and hate that he could hardly stand.

"STOP IT! Okay, I’ll do whatever you want, just call that bastard off of her! God damn it, get him off of her!" Jonathan cried, struggling to free himself.

The leader barked an order at his man in the closet and he pulled away from the girl, but he paused to slowly run his hand down the soft curve of her face matted with hair and dampened with her tears and his saliva. The attack over, she cried softly as the guard replaced her gag.

I think that it is safe to say that you will want to help us in our efforts. As I said before, your lovely daughter will remain unharmed so long as you are willing to cooperate. However, my men have been quite busy lately and have not had the opportunity to be with a woman, so the longer that you take, the less I can guarantee that nothing will happen to her.

Fine you asshole, but only to keep your thugs off of my daughter!

Good! I like a man who has a good attitude and has his priorities in life straight. But for now, say goodbye to your sweet daughter and you’ll see her again when you have delivered what we want. The leader motioned to the guard who then closed the door. He and one of his men turned Jonathan around in his chair to see the remainder of the room outfitted with a small sleeping cot, a table with a computer system and a lamp.

As you can see we have provided all the luxuries of home to make your stay as comfortable as possible, continued the man with dripping sarcasm.

However, so that you do not get any ideas about leaving, you should know that we will not keep your daughter in that room, but some place a little more secure. If you require a break to use the facilities, then one of my men will escort you. Otherwise, the only time we will interrupt your work is to bring you your meals. Do you have any questions?

Jonathan shook his head. At this point he could only try to do what they asked, hopeful that they wouldn’t hurt his daughter. He was not concerned about himself, but he could not live knowing that his actions had resulted in something god-awful happening to her. He just wanted to get this done so that he could get his daughter out of here. She was probably the only thing in his life that he had put an honest effort into.

April 16, 2023 8 p.m. SAST - At an undisclosed location in South Africa

The days passed, but he was really unsure what day it was, or how long it had been since he and his daughter were taken. While the computer had a built-in calendar and clock, it was set to June of 2000 so it offered no real help, and so far he’d had no access to the outside world or networks, so had no way of knowing the date. Jonathan hadn’t seen the sun since the day he was kidnapped. He set about doing what he thought would meet his captor’s demands and gain freedom for himself and his daughter. At times he lost himself in the work and actually felt a sense of excitement figuring out how to do all of what they wanted. They brought him food and water every four hours and he took catnaps when he could no longer keep his eyes open to program. Day and night lost meaning for him.

As time passed, his captors revealed that they had installed a small set of computers that simulated one of the communication networks their organization was looking to affect. Relieved to have something to test against, he was still unsure how successful he would be in his coding as he had no idea of the accuracy of their hardware simulation. Additionally, this was the first time he had ever really worked on a worm that would operate on such a large scale. His prior work was limited to one target computer system, to either monitor passwords or to give him a back door into the system. This was something on a completely different scale. How was he supposed to know if it could really work if they didn’t let him have access to the real internet? Every system out there is a little different than the next, and how could he possibly anticipate all of the systems and countermeasures while living in the black box they had him in? They wanted him to create a worm that would infect the communication infrastructure of the world in such a way that no one could see any of the communication activities of their organization. No one had ever done something of that magnitude! Surely they must understand that.

With a final flurry of keystrokes on the keyboard, Jonathan saved his work and sat back in his chair satisfied. Well, that is about all I can do until I know who they are and what they call themselves so that I can hide them. He stood up stretching his back, which was aching from being hunched over for too many hours. He now understood why cats go to such an effort to stretch after being curled up.

The door lock clinked and the door to his room swung open. The men to whom he was indentured entered. The Afrikaan (not knowing his name, Jonathan secretly referred to him in his thoughts for no particular reason as Max), entered the door with two of the thugs.

Good afternoon, Jonathan, Max said, sporting the smile of a hungry crocodile. Jonathan doubted it was actually afternoon, as every four hours they would seem to randomly choose the meal and their indication of what time of the day it might be.

It is your lucky day. Today you get to deploy the worm you have so laboriously worked on.

What? It’s not ready. I haven’t tested it out in the wild!

Jonathan, we have been monitoring your testing on the simulator and feel that we are ready to deploy.

Are you crazy?! Look, this thing will go out onto the communication networks, insert its code into the operation system of the communication gateway systems and should block any redirection of information associated with your group to a computer that doesn’t have a handshake" agreement with the computer sending the data, effectively preventing any snooping. But I haven’t tested any of that. I mean it’s in the code, but I have only tested it on the simulator. What if it goes out onto the network and just craps out?"

Max smiled, Well, in that situation... he paused and held up his phone so that Jonathan could see that it was a live video feed to a room where his daughter was being held. She was tied facing the wall with her arms and legs spread to either side.

A cold sickness filled his stomach, but before he could respond Max growled, If you are going to cause any problems or if your little worm does not perform as we expect, or better, your little girl is going to have a very...unfortunate experience and she will wish for the remainder of her life that her sweet daddy had tried just a little bit harder. He swiped his finger across the screen to cause the camera in the room to pan and reveal three rather rough-looking men who he had not seen before.

Okay, okay! Look, I think that I have made it robust enough to do what you need, but I need to know something about the organization; names, code names, or something, so that I can hide you on the network. Without that, there just isn’t anything I can do for you.

Ahh! Now that is better, Mr. Niebrugge. The only thing you need to know is the identifier we all use: FRETA. I will give you twelve hours to make whatever changes you need, at which point, we will give you the one opportunity to test it on the real network—‘in the wild’ as you say. Until then... Max performed a symbolic bow, and he and his guards turned in unison and left the room, locking the door behind them.

For the next twelve hours, Jonathan coded, analyzed, studied, tested, and simulated more intensely than he’d ever had in his entire life as it was his only hope of getting his daughter away from these bastards. How much time had passed? For that matter how much was left? But whatever the answer, he had reached a stopping point, good or bad. He had analyzed every aspect of the code forward and backward, how it performed, and any fingerprints that might be left behind once the servers were infected, but there just wasn’t anything more that he could do until it was released. This was probably the best work he had ever done, and if he got out of this alive, he might consider casting his net a little wider with his craft.

April 16, 2023 9:45 p.m. MST - Sandia National Laboratories. Laboratory for Cyber Counter-Strike Artificial Intelligence.

The computer science laboratory was mostly dark and only illuminated by the occasional computer display and the status indicator lights from a small forest of microprocessor board racks forming the super computer, Blue. Two men, Dr. Roberts and his primary software coder John, sat in front of their respective displays, clearly worn down by fatigue and pressure to achieve the results expected by powerful men in far away offices. Dr. Roberts’ alarm clock went off, jolting him from his catnap. John, a graduate from MIT, could have had a promising career with his pick of any number of high-visibility jobs in the lucrative industry of social media. However, he took a job as a graduate student on a military grant to pay his bills during his final year of school. It was unknown to him at the time how classified this project would become and that he and Dr. Roberts would be sucked down the rabbit hole of anonymity on a top secret black ops project.

Dr. Roberts tried to wake his cloudy mind by rubbing his tired eyes. How long have I been out? He paced around the room and got a drink of metallic-tasting lukewarm water from the fountain on the far side of the lab. There probably wasn’t anything more vile tasting than that water, but it would have to do for now. He tucked his disheveled shirt back into his pants and slapped his cheeks a few times in a vain effort to rouse his mind.

John, in the last simulation Blue took out the threat’s communication system before it could take out the infrastructure or the secondary power systems and erase all networked computers. If this is going to be accepted by the military, we’re going to have to fix the order of the assets it takes down. The general explicitly stated that he wanted it to wreak as much untraceable collateral damage as possible, which means it has to do that before shutting down the communication conduit.

Yeah, that part is not that big of a deal. The last time it just called an old, automated script we used earlier during the development instead of using the new search-and-destroy subroutine. I removed the link to the old script and erased it from all servers and hard drives to ensure we got rid of it. But here’s the big thing: I also noticed that the script had a large security flaw that would allow Blue to be taken down pretty easily if anyone on the receiving end of things happened to notice what was going on. Thank God I found that before we went live. All should be well now. Wow! John must still be running on the adrenaline from finding that hole. Had they not fixed it, it could have been the death of both their project and careers. They were finding their mistakes, but they were moving fast, maybe too fast.

Good! Did you finish uploading the facial recognition algorithm improvements?

Yep, I just finished recompiling and will head out for the day...night...whatever, as soon as Blue is up and running.

Great. We’ll run it in ‘Monitor only’ mode tonight to see if that improves Blue’s detection rate of non-friendly activity and analyze the results in the morning. If things go well then we could potentially get back on schedule and get this turned over to the general on time, replied Dr. Roberts.

Hmmm. That’s odd, mused John, pausing while looking at the command line prompts that were being displayed on the screen as the reboot of the core of Blue’s processes progressed.

What?

"Well, I placed some echo commands in the code so when I ran it I could tell where in the code it was while executing. That way I could follow it through the code as it went about addressing each situation and also see where it