Enigma Read online

  Enigma

  Gerald M Kilby

  Contents

  Reader’s Group

  1. Neural Attack

  2. Grid Node

  3. Birthday Present

  4. Fly

  5. Shuttle Port

  6. Capt. Weismann

  7. The Hold

  8. Curare

  9. Gravity Poverty

  10. After the Fact

  11. Quantum Quandary

  12. New World One

  13. Node Runner

  14. Avatron

  15. Johnston Transit Orbital

  16. Manual Override

  17. Agents

  18. Crazy Times

  19. Thirst

  20. Beacon 23

  21. The Data-Stream

  22. Ghost in the Grid

  23. Second Ship

  24. Return

  25. Battle Droid

  26. Awakening

  27. Decision Time

  28. Operation Droid

  29. Exodus

  30. Perception

  31. Enigma

  32. Quantum Conundrum

  Author’s Note

  Also by Gerald M Kilby

  About the Author

  Reader’s Group

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  1

  Neural Attack

  Fredrick VanHeilding felt a wave of excited trepidation ripple through his body as he watched the Node Runners jack themselves into the data-stream. It was a moment he had long awaited. The culmination of many years of trial and error, success and failure, breakthroughs and roadblocks, all to develop a mind-machine interface capable of countering the system-wide hegemony of the powerful quantum AI machines—the so-called QI.

  For over two decades he, along with the six other families who had originally controlled most of the solar system, had tried to fight the rise of these advanced artificial intelligences, but to no avail—all their efforts fell short. Yet lessons were learned along the way, useful lessons, ones that formed the basis of the test that was now taking place. A test that, if successful, could finally shift the balance of power away from the QI network and back to where it should be: in the hands of the seven families who were the rightful masters of humanity—the so-called Seven.

  The Node Runners assembled themselves in an outward-facing circle strapped into reclining seats and began interfacing with the data-stream via a direct cranial interface. In the physical world they were mere men and women. But jacked into the Grid, as it was sometimes called, they were gods with the ability to manipulate and modify the data-stream to their will.

  If the all-powerful interconnected hive mind of the quantum intelligence network had an Achilles heel, it was that they relied on the Grid to monitor and manipulate the systems that governed human civilization, including the many AI that powered corporations and governments. It was the QI’s ability to navigate this vast data network and intervene in the decision-making processes of these AI that gave them their power. So, if the Node Runners could manipulate the data-stream, then they could in theory disrupt the control of the QI network.

  As the Node Runners jacked in one by one, a facsimile of what they were experiencing was relayed to a control room where VanHeilding, along with a select group of scientists, had assembled. The images and sounds projected on the various screens and holo-displays were an interpretation of what each Node Runner was experiencing.

  At the outset, that moment when the human mind made its initial neural connection, the projections were a scrambled mess. A hallucinogenic assault on the synapse rendered as a kaleidoscopic maelstrom with no discernible visual meaning, just an unfiltered multispectrum neural mess.

  Some weaker minds could not handle this torrent of data that instantly crashed over their cerebral cortex, and brain death was not uncommon. Jacking in was a dangerous occupation. The subject could end up in a vegetative state, physically alive but with no higher brain function. Over time some would recover, but most did not.

  Yet VanHeilding had no such concerns with the Node Runners that were now online. They were all seasoned professionals, honed over many hours of training, biologically altered to cope with the mental demands. Two had even undergone an experimental DNA modification therapy that enhanced their abilities to utilize certain quantum phenomena.

  But he also knew that they were nothing compared to what could have been—all those years ago. Back then, he had had within his grasp a biology so extraordinary that he sometimes doubted it would ever exist again. A perfection that was now lost to him, hidden beyond his control. And these neural warriors who had just jacked in were a pale facsimile of that one lost mind.

  “All connections are now stable, sir. We’re ready to proceed,” the lead scientist announced, waiting for a reply.

  VanHeilding glanced at the monitors and the array of bio-stats displayed. All six subjects were well within physical operating limits. Good, he thought, then raised a hand. “Let the mission commence.” And so began the final great test before he, and the other six families, began their fight back against the QI network in earnest.

  The mission they were undertaking was to physically destroy a major data center, a Grid Node, located in a relatively isolated region in the southern Mojave Desert. Under normal circumstances—that is to say, in pre-QI times—this operation would be relatively simple. Send in two hypersonic attack drones—one to take out the defenses so that the other could get close enough to detonate an EMP device and render the Grid Node inoperable.

  But these were not normal circumstances, not for a long time. Now that everything was monitored by the QI network, it had become almost impossible to perform any subversive, let alone military, activity without them knowing about it. They even possessed the uncanny ability to anticipate a course of action before it even began. It was impossible to combat such a foe—or was it?

  This was the question that had occupied the minds of the seven families who had controlled the primary affairs of humanity up until the time of the QIs. Yet it occupied Fredrick VanHeilding’s mind the most, not least because this loss of power had been facilitated by family treachery, specifically that of his daughter Miranda—now also lost to him.

  Yet this was not an emotional loss, other than perhaps anger. No, it was more about the loss of his granddaughter, Luca, who represented decades of valuable human genetic engineering breakthroughs.

  His wealth, and that of his family, was based on patents derived from the manipulation of the human genome. Technologies that allowed humans to defeat most diseases and greatly extend lifespan. He was over a century old, but looked like a healthy fifty. Miranda, who had inherited both his and her mother’s altered DNA, probably possessed an even longer potential lifespan. But it was the next generation that had the potential to be theoretically immortal.

  For a brief time, he had access to the best and most viable specimen of this next generation: Miranda’s daughter Luca, while she was still nothing more than an embryo. It was during this development period when the VanHeilding geneticists did their most experimental work, pushing the boundaries of quantum biology.

  In nature, the utilization of quantum effects within living organisms was well known; photosynthesis in plants, magnetoreception in migratory birds, even the complex process of olfaction. But the most interesting area of research for VanHeilding was in enhancing the ability of the neurons inside the brain to act as q-bits. In other words, developing the human brain as a quantum computer. Some of this experimental work was now being tested via the Node Runners involved in the mission today.

  Somewhere deep in the Mojave Desert, two heavy steel doors irised open in the side of a remote mountain facility owned by the VanHeilding Cor
poration. From it, two supersonic attack drones screeched out, accelerating past the sound barrier within seconds. As they gained altitude, they began adjusting their vector to orient themselves toward their target—an isolated data center, built inside an old disused tin mine, due south of the location of the quantum intelligence know as Athena.

  The monitors in the operation room began flickering with blurry images as the systems worked to decipher the neural data coming from the Node Runners, and a blurry real-time feed of the barren, desolate terrain below the drones began to materialize.

  Each drone was controlled by an individual Node Runner, and the feeds on the monitors were being rendered directly from their cerebral cortex as they interfaced with the machines.

  But this was the easy part of the mission. Out here, in the desolate wasteland, Athena’s dominion was minimal. Soon though, the drones would be entering more demanding territory. Already, the other four Node Runners had begun working to create a data smokescreen to hide the drones from Athena’s prying senses. VanHeilding could tell they were working hard, as their bio-monitors began to rise, indicating increased cerebral activity.

  They worked to block all data entering the Grid from satellite feeds, radar stations, seismic sensors—everything that would indicate to the QI that an attack was imminent within its zone. They scrambled signals that could not be blocked, created rogue data-streams to distract and confuse, and critically, broke down quantum coherence, rendering entangled data packets useless.

  By the time the drones had accelerated past Mach 2, they were well into the mission, and thus far, Athena had not taken any countermeasures.

  So far, so good, thought VanHeilding.

  “Sir, we have Node Runners four and six going hot. Cranial temperature is becoming critical.”

  “Carry on.” He waved a dismissive hand.

  The bio-technician hesitated for a moment, as if she were about to outline the possibility that these two Node Runners may not make it out of this mission with a functioning brain. But VanHeilding gave her a look that changed her mind.

  “Yes, sir,” she said with nod, and went back to monitoring.

  2

  Grid Node

  Network Operations Director Jojo Hamilton balanced a coffee in one hand as he presented his right eye to the retinal scanner. He hoped the immense hangover he was nursing did not render his eyeball so bloodshot that it would reject him. Fortunately, it didn’t, and to his relief the door to the datacenter control room clicked open.

  It was his last week on the job after nearly two decades of service. The guys had thrown a party for him last night, and he was suffering for it now. Please let it be a quiet day, he thought. The last thing he needed today was some technical glitch that required his attention since he was using most of his traumatized brain power just to stay upright. He rubbed his forehead and breathed out a long, slow sigh.

  One of the senior techs glanced over from a workstation as Jojo entered and gave him a concerned look.

  Jojo raised the coffee mug. “Yeah, I know. No drinks in the control room. But I’m not going to make it past the first hour in here without it. Anyway, what are they going to do. Fire me?” He managed a laugh.

  “Eh, it’s not that, sir. It’s… Well, something’s going on.”

  Jojo raised his free hand. “Not interested, don’t want to know. Just go deal with whatever it is. If anyone wants me, I’ll be in my office, asleep.” He walked past the tech without giving him another look.

  “You really need to take a look at this, sir. None of us can make any sense of it.”

  Jojo sighed again. Why today, of all days, he thought as he slowed his pace and looked back at the tech. Only then did he notice that all the other staff in the room had their attentions focused on the array of data-maps displayed on the big wall monitors. He gave another long sigh. “Okay, what is it?”

  The tech swiveled around in his chair and pointed at the data displays. “It started happening around twenty minutes ago, dropping data packets, mostly from orbital infrastructure. But it’s been accelerating—everything is going down.”

  “Goddamnit.” Jojo glanced up at the wall displays, and this time he could see the traffic charts were way off nominal, showing a significant drop in data packets. The facility was not just a datacenter but also a major Grid Node for this sector of the West Coast. It routed data traffic from a myriad of sources both terrestrial and orbital, and covered an area of over a million square kilometers including several major population centers.

  He took a gulp of coffee and tried to focus on the constellation of data mapped out on the monitors. The tech was right: something was going on, something major. Something he, in his two decades of working in this hub, had never seen before. It wasn’t a full-blown outage of a comms satellite or some other physical infrastructure. It was as if the data-stream had been disrupted. It was intermittent, random—one of the most difficult technical problems to solve. It would be better if something went completely offline. Then at least you knew where to focus your attention. But this, this was weird.

  “Could it be atmospheric interference of some kind?” Jojo sat down at a control console and began to interrogate the systems.

  “We’ve been working on that hypothesis, but there’s no solar radiation spikes detected. Atmospheric conditions are normal.”

  “So, what’s Athena doing?” Jojo glanced up at the data-maps again.

  “Well, that’s the thing. The QI’s being very quiet, little or no interaction. It’s like it’s not interested.”

  “Or it can’t see what’s going on.” Jojo jolted forward in his seat and started to dig deeper into the makeup of the affected data-streams. “Find out what’s been affected, what type of data, see if there is a pattern or some commonality.”

  “Been doing just that, sir. Looks like there’s a lot of sensory data, as well as control systems being affected.”

  Jojo stopped his interrogation of the systems and stared at the monitors for a beat, then his mind finally broke through the fog of the hangover and kicked into gear. He stood up and waved a hand at the monitors. “We’re being hacked.”

  “No way, that’s impossible.”

  “I know it’s supposed to be impossible, but that’s what’s happening.” He took another gulp of coffee. “But the important question here is, to what purpose?”

  There was a moment where nobody in the room spoke; shock had taken control. It was a moment of paralysis where the brain simply could not compute the unprecedented nature of what was occurring.

  “Picking up two aircraft, possibly drones, on radar,” one of the techs shouted out.

  Jojo looked up at the video feed. “Drones?”

  “Yes, definitely drones, sir, and they’re armed, heading our way…ETA…two minutes.” The tech looked up at Jojo, waiting for a reaction.

  “Shit. Initiate a code red, activate defenses!” He turned to the head tech, who was still not quite there yet. “Do it now!”

  No sooner than he said it, he began to regret taking this action as the klaxon now blaring in the control room was drilling holes in his brain.

  “Gun turrets have just gone hot, sir…engaging the—” But before the tech could finish the sentence, the entire room was rocked with tremors from a violent explosion.

  “Shit.” Jojo flung himself under a desk as ceiling tiles and light fittings came crashing down around him. Smoke and dust permeated the air as he coughed and spluttered. After a moment, when the violence had receded, he tentatively rose from under the desk, stood up, and surveyed the scene. The control room was in complete disarray, one of the large wall monitors had been dislodged from its fixing and had crashed to the floor, shattering into a thousand shards. The rest were fractured, and only one was still working.

  “What the hell was that?” Jojo shouted out to the techs who were all trying to get themselves reoriented. “Get me some stats, and can we get some eyes on the compound perimeter?”

  “Working on it
, sir.” The head tech’s hands were dancing over the console, trying to figure out what still functioned.

  “They’ve taken out the turrets, sir. Both are destroyed.”

  “Shit, both?” Jojo now realized that they were defenseless. With the gun turrets out, there was nothing stopping the attack drones from destroying the facility—and everybody in it. Where’s Athena? he wondered. Why has it not intervened? But there was no time for these thoughts now.

  “Sir, the drones are coming around for another run.”

  Jojo looked up at the last functioning wall monitor. A blurry external camera feed showed the two attack drones banking high over the desert.

  “Evacuate,” Jojo yelled out. “Everybody get the hell out of here.” Then he, and all the other techs in the control room, ran for the exit door.

  By now, Jojo’s hangover had long gone, buried under a rush of adrenaline coursing through his body. He tumbled out of the control room and into a sea of chaos. People ran toward the exits, falling over each other as they pushed and jostled. But the evacuation routes were strewn with fallen debris and upturned equipment, impeding their progress. Jojo pushed forward through the throng of panicked staff. He rounded the last corner before the exit only to realize it was now just a gaping hole through which he could see clear blue sky.