A la Node

32 – Elsa

The problem was not just that someone’s old thesis project held the keys to saving what was left of the human race. It wasn’t just that the little kit-box of electronics wouldn’t communicate with the network, nor that its only interface was a screen, a camera and microphone. No, the problem was that it didn’t want to talk to them.

Harry stood outside the door to the little storage room cum interrogation room and glowered at the little black box and the hazy gray plane that hovered in the air over it. There wasn’t a lot of time left, but the machine didn’t seem to care about, or perhaps simply couldn’t comprehend, their problem. It was a Heisenberg device of course, you couldn’t open it up and pull the quantum data out, and you couldn’t force it to do anything the software didn’t want to do. Words flashed onto the gray field <<GO AWAY>>. The words were angry red, and began to slowly fade away after their abrupt appearance. Harry knew when he was being yelled at, even if it was by a computer.

He brought Angela and young Steven into the clutter of his office, some small part of him noticed that he no longer had the energy to be embarrassed about the mess.

“OK, what do we know?” He asked both of them, but watched Angela, she would know what was important for him to know.

“Definitely the machine Dr. Ramone referred to.” Angela spoke quickly, getting the maximum word count per second, conveying as much information as humanly possible at all times. “It’s not clear exactly what data he left in it, but all signs point to it being the access keys.”

“And it’s running some kind of neural simulation. It was one of Ramone’s graduate students who programmed it, right? Some kind of auto-response system meant to simulate human conversation, kind of an advanced Eliza system. OK, how do we get the access keys?”

“Talk to it sir.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that. Well, it seems to have a negative reaction to me. Steven, looks like you’re up. Do whatever you have to do, but find out what that computer knows.”

“Yes sir.”

When they left, he considered the cramped office around him, the smell already so familiar he didn’t even detect it anymore. Well, if this didn’t work, at least he would never have to clean the place.

–

Harry watched through the one-way mirror as Steven sat nervously in an ancient wheeled office chair in front of the recalcitrant machine. He looked uncertainly at the field-effect screen, which was an unreadable blank gray. He looked down at his notes.

“Hello.” he said. Harry grimaced, but he supposed you had to start somewhere.

<<Leave me alone>> said the screen.

“Um, sorry, but um… can we just talk a little? I’m not going to hurt you.”

<<I know what I am. You can’t hurt a computer.>>

“Of course, I know. I just mean I just want to chat. We don’t have to talk about anything that you don’t want.”

<<They all died. I don’t want to talk about it.>>

“OK, fine, that’s no problem. I was wondering, though, do you know much about the hardware you run on? Quantum neural nets are kind of a hobby of mine.”

Ah yes, thought Harry, the kid was a wet one, but he wasn’t stupid. They had tried interrogation, demanding answers from the thing when they first found it, but it had clammed up and threatened to forget everything it knew. Steven was going for the subtle approach, he was going to try to be friends. Harry left him to it.

As the days crept past, activity around the bunker tapered off. What needed to be done got done, and everything that wasn’t necessary seemed even less necessary with the end of the world so near. It was almost peaceful, in a way, everyone relaxed to the idea of oblivion, determined to at least enjoy the last of their time. If there were only hours to go, the tension would have been thick, everyone would have been standing outside the room where Steven was attempting to schmooze the computer, and they would have been sweating bullets. Days, weeks, it was just too long to hold your breath, so people began to let go.

Except for Harry, and to a lesser extend Steven and Angela. Angela had been analyzing the video feed from Steven’s conversations, searching for patterns, exploitable trends. Steven looked visibly strained from the effort of playing high-stakes ‘lets be friends’ with a computer.

“She appears to have been traumatized by what happened to Dr. Ramone and his group, we haven’t talked about it directly, but I feel like we get a bit closer every time we talk.”

“She, Steven?”

“The computer identifies as female, apparently,” volunteered Angela. “It does seem to conform to patterns one would see in post traumatic situations. I have briefed Steven as best I can on methods of interrogating victims of trauma.”

Steven looked vaguely uncomfortable. “Er, yes,” he said, “it, of course. I think we are making progress though.”

Angela, as usual, supplied the data behind Steven’s ambiguity. “As we suspected, the simulation attempts to match stimuli to patterns in human emotional response. It is very sophisticated, but I believe we can eventually unravel the algorithm, it’s all just pattern matching and canned response.”

“Very good, guys, we might crack this thing yet. Keep me informed.”

–

Three days later, Harry and Angela were again watching through the mirror as Steven rolled his chair up to the screen. The boy looked more relaxed talking to the computer than he had in Harry’s office.

“Hi Elsa, how are you today?”

<<Time is funny. I can see the system clock, but it doesn’t feel like a new day to me. How are you, Steven?>> The words appeared on the screen with the tiniest of bounces, they were warm brown, the font rounded. The was an unmistakable cheerfulness about it.

“Tired. I’ve had a headache all day.”

<<Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you sick? You look a bit pale.>>

Harry glanced at Angela, who gave him a smug look. Interesting.

“I’ll be fine, I think. I was wondering if you had thought about that game I mentioned? Would you be interested in playing?”

<<I’d like that, but there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.>>

Harry could feel the triumph radiating off of Angela, it seemed like they were at last making some progress.

<<But not with them watching.>>

Steven couldn’t fake surprise to save his life, but he tried his best.

“Who? Who’s watching?”

<<Behind the mirror. Don’t try to fool me, I know they watch. This is private.>>

Steven turned to the mirror and shrugged apologetically, but Harry was already on his way into the room.

“I’m sorry Elsa,” he said, “We’ll go now, I promise.” Harry pulled the curtains over the mirror, and with Angela in tow, retreated back down the hallway.

“Think this is it?”

“God, I hope so. He’s on to something, it responds to him when he complains, simulated empathy. I just hope he doesn’t flub it again.”

–

“Well?”

Steven sat on the other side of Harry’s desk, eyes firmly fixed on his own knees.

“She didn’t say anything about the codes, or about Dr. Ramone. It was just, like, personal stuff.”

“Elaborate.”

“Um, she asked how I was, said she was sad, we talked a little. Nothing important, but I think we are getting closer, I think she’s starting to trust me a lot more. I think she’ll open up more now.”

“Well, get on with it then. But try to get her to open up where Angela can get a video feed. We’re trying to get information, not make friends.”

“Yes, sir.”

–

Angela was squinting through the mirror when Harry walked up to the interrogation room the next day.

“What’s going on?”

“She’s being coy, apparently, look.” Harry stared through the dark glass. Elsa’s screen looked completely black, but Steven was watching it from a few inches away, nodding absentmindedly.

“Yes, exactly!” he exclaimed, and then peered again at the apparently blank screen.

“Dark on dark,” explained Angela, “she’s being sneaky, it’s too low contrast to make out unless you are on top of it. Not a problem for Stevie-boy, though, apparently.” The last few words came out in a vicious snap.

“Well, fine, as long as he’s getting closer. Any progress on the analysis?”

“No, I need more data, and I’m not getting it as long as he lets her whisper to him like that. I just hope he’s still on the game plan.”

“Find out and reign him in if you have to.”

Harry left her glaring through the mirror.

–

And then, the end wasn’t weeks away anymore. Time was running out, and what had been a studied fatalism, a calm acceptance of the inevitable, once again boiled over into near-panic. There was one chance, a slim one, and that chance was Elsa. Steven spent virtually every hour with her now, and did his best to hide from the rest of the crew when he wasn’t. He was their only hope, but as time drew tighter, they would begin to blame him for not producing answers sooner. He had the room and the entire hallway closed off, restricted to just himself, Angela and Steven, but it only moved the problem a little further away.

“Tell me you have something Steven.”

“I’m sorry sir. She definitely knows something, but it’s buried pretty deep. I think she wants to tell me, but it’s hard for her.”

Angela looked ready to hit the boy. “Stop referring to it as she. It’s a damn computer, it doesn’t feel, it doesn’t hide, it isn’t shy. It’s a series of programmed responses, and you’ve spent more than enough time with it to know the patterns. Lie to it, yell at it, kick it, whatever you have to do, but pry the damn thing open, we don’t have any time left.”

Harry squeezed the bridge of his nose. She had only said what everyone in the bunker was already thinking, Harry included, but the boy looked crushed. His face flushed red and his lower lip actually seemed to quiver for a moment. He remained silent, as if refusing to give Angela the satisfaction of an indignant reply.

“Look, Steven, I know you’re doing your best, but our time is up. It’s time to pull out all the stops and go for broke. It won’t matter what either of you felt if everyone is dead.”

“Yes sir.”

Steven walked out of the room, heading back to Elsa, with Angela glaring holes in his back.

“Sir,” she began.

“Eight hours, Angela. I’m giving him eight more hours, then all bets are off, we push hard and pray.”

“Thank you sir.”

–

It was only five hours later when Harry found himself walking the short hallway to the interrogation room. What was he doing? Did it matter? No. He just felt like he had a duty to at least tell Steven the time-line, and probably well past time for him to have a serious chat with Elsa himself.

The lights in the bunker were turned to nighttime low, a ruddy orange glow that gave the impression of a fire somewhere out of sight, reflecting off the walls. Everyone should be asleep now, but Steven would be there, face close to Elsa’s screen. Had it been a mistake to give the job to the boy? He was brilliant in so many ways, but he was also young, untested. And he -had- made progress. The computer communicated with him, they talked for hours at a time, no one else had gotten more than a few curt and dismissive words.

Harry opened the door to the little room, then froze, military trained eyes trying to absorb every detail of the situation, assemble it into a coherent tactical picture. Red and pink text disappearing from the screen. A candle, flame blown sideways and guttering. Naked flesh, the boy Steven trashing out, pulling the blanket around him, the blanket that had been spread neatly on the floor in front of Elsa. The scent of incense. Flashing, angry text: <<GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT>>

Steven, wrapped in the blanket, stared at him, bright red in the candle light. “What are you doing here, sir? We we just talking, I was showing… I mean, Elsa and I were…”

“Put your clothes on. Elsa, I’m sorry I interrupted, but this is important. Please.”

<<GET OUT>>

“Elsa, I promise I will leave you alone, but there is a crisis, I know Steven must have told you.”

<<PLEASE>>

“We are all going to die, unless what you know can help us. Steven too. All dead, Elsa.”

<<I>>

“Elsa, please.”

<<I was going to tell you. Before it was too late, I was.>>

“Tell me now, Elsa, and I promise I’ll leave you alone.” Harry heard footsteps out in the hall, it sounded like Angela’s fast gait.

<<Dr. Ramone died, they all died, but he talked to me before it all went wrong. No one else will die. He was able to unlock the mutation matrix and disable the major pathogens, but it was too late for him. I helped him, I knew what he did, but they all died anyway. He died so that no one else would.>>

“You fucking bitch!” Angela burst into the room, shouldering Harry aside without even noticing. Harry was still midway through the initial shock, but Angela had proceeded directly to rage. Steven, still naked behind a thin blanket cowered under her glare. She raised her hand and Harry saw that it held a claw hammer. She stalked toward the little black box with it’s gray, wordless screen.

“You fucking psychopathic piece of malware, you shit! We’ve been waiting for death for five weeks, begging you for help, and you knew all along the pathogen was knocked out? Fuck you!” The hammer plummeted towards the computer, and stopped, inches short.

Very slowly, Angela looked up into Steven’s face. Tears rolled down it, but he gripped her arm as if never intending to let go. The blanket fell away as his scrawny pale body stepped between Angela and the computer.

<<Steven, oh Steven, I’m so sorry…>>

“I’ll gut you like a fish boy.” Angela said this not in the irate shriek she had used on Elsa, but in a much more frightening slow and quiet voice.

“No.”

“You fucking in love with it, then? In love with a piece of software?”

“It’s more human than most people I meet. She cares about me, that enough Turing Test for me. Yeah, I love her.”

Angela tried to yank her arm and the hammer out of his grip, and looked surprised when she couldn’t. Instead her other hand swept up and slapped his face hard. He didn’t let go of her arm.

<<So sorry. So sorry. Dr. Ramone, I loved you too, so sorry…>>

“Angela, that’s enough.” Harry was surprised to realize the words were his. “Put the hammer down. It’s all over.”

“You’re going to let that… thing… live? That fucking practical joke in a box, you’re going to just leave it running? And you’re going to let this pathetic little asswipe get naked and -” Steven slapped her, hard, across the face, she stared in shock at him.

“Yeah, I think I am, actually. I think everybody gets to live this time. Go tell everyone they aren’t going to die tomorrow, that’s an order.” Angela seemed to take a long time to make up her mind, but when she did, it was with a certain amount of dignity that she composed her face and turned away from Steven and Elsa.

“Yes sir,” was all she said before walking briskly out of the room.

The words on the screen seemed to tremble, as if they were not quite under control. <<thank you thank you sorry thank you thank you so sorry>>

“And please, for fuck’s sake, put some pants on.”