The Girl Who Dared to Stand Read online

  “Indeed. Scipio is too complex a nut for anyone to crack in one lifetime. It would take decades of laying the inroads into the programming, and that would mean passing the information from parent to child, getting them into IT, and then spending their lives sneaking around. But as ridiculous as it sounds, there is always a way. That’s why Scipio 1.0 needs to stay here—and unattached to the Core.”

  Decades. He had said decades. Could that also have translated into centuries? I leaned back, considering the implications as I continued to watch. What if the problems with Scipio were a result of direct tampering instead of digital rampancy (or whatever Quess had called it)? If so, did that mean the Prometheus group that Ezekial had mentioned was still alive and active within the Tower? Were they even now controlling Scipio? Was it their idea to start murdering ones?

  “Yes, but the council decided—”

  “Before the Master Scipio program had made his determination, and I asked the council to reconsider once his advice came in.” Lionel reappeared again, this time with a mug filled with black liquid, and moved around the sofa to sit down with a heavy sigh. “You should read his recommendation—he found motivations for keeping 1.0 around that even I hadn’t considered. We really did build a—”

  “You stupid old man,” Ezekial spat, suddenly rising to his feet. “You really don’t get it. You keep expecting everyone to put as much blind faith in that machine as you do.”

  I blinked. The words felt right, but his tone sounded all wrong. Vehement and raw. Tension radiated from his body like he was a spring pulled too tight, ready to snap. He was just stating his opinion—but he was far too emotional about it. My instincts warned me that something bad was coming, but I had no idea what it could be. According to history, Lionel and Ezekial had become close during the construction of the Tower, had considered each other friends. But Ezekial wasn’t looking at Lionel like a friend—he was looking at him like he wanted him to drop dead right then and there.

  Lionel took a calm sip of his “coffee” and lowered the mug to the table. I looked down and realized the cup was still there, in the same place.

  “I don’t like your tone of voice, Councilman Pine,” he said, starting to stand. “You should leave until you cool down some.”

  “No, I don’t think that I will, Lionel,” Ezekial drawled, taking a step closer. He may have looked older, but he seemed to be in remarkable shape—much more so than Lionel. I returned my gaze to the mug. Still there and covered in dust. Inside, a black and brown stain circled the bottom. I touched it, my fingers sliding over the slightly rippled surface, then sat back and stared at it. No one had bothered to move it.

  “You built this AI to rule us, Lionel, whether you realize it or not. And it is to the detriment of your own people.”

  I shook my head; I’d had the same thoughts myself, had practically said the same things, but… I didn’t like the Scipio in the Core because I thought he had been doing everything unilaterally. I believed, as everyone did, in his autonomy, and it had never occurred to me to question whether he was even behaving the way he was supposed to. Now that I was aware it was possible he wasn’t, it threw that hatred and disgust into question. Because if it wasn’t Scipio doing it all, I had to wonder who was—and how dangerous they’d be if they found out Scipio 1.0 was still alive. Would they even understand his significance?

  I sort of hoped so, if only because they could reveal the answers I was searching for. I also didn’t hope so, because that meant they would probably want to kill us.

  “You’re being hysterical, Zeke,” Lionel said soothingly, standing. “What is even bringing this o—”

  Lionel’s words were cut off when Ezekial backhanded him, sending the older man spinning around and landing awkwardly on the couch, crying out in pain. Ezekial didn’t stop there, however, and I pressed closer to Grey, squeezing his hand, already starting to turn away as the man took something out of his pocket. A rustling from the screen dragged my eyes inexorably to his hands as I tried to identify what it was. Ezekial moved fast—faster than I could track—and placed something thin and fluttery over Lionel’s head, all the way down over his chin, where he gathered the edges quickly and held firm.

  Immediately, Lionel began to gasp for breath, but the bag over his head prevented any air from getting in. I shut my eyes as I heard his desperate pants and groans become shorter and tighter. I could hear weak sounds of struggle coming from Lionel—and angry grunts coming from Ezekial—and just felt nauseated.

  “Shut it off,” I managed thickly.

  “Not yet,” Scipio replied, his voice hard and determined. Grey’s arm draped over my shoulder, and I squeezed my eyes shut and clapped my hands over my ears, trying to block out the horrific sounds of one man brutally suffocating another.

  Grey rubbed my shoulder reassuringly a few seconds later, and I turned to see Ezekial staggering over to the door and opening the terminal.

  “What have you done?” Scipio asked, returning to the screen and moving over to the still remains of his creator. He reached out with one hand, as if to touch Lionel’s face, and then pulled it back before his fingers could connect.

  “I can see your manners are every bit as good as your creator’s. You were supposed to go offline,” Ezekial said.

  “Lionel instructed me to never go offline.” Scipio looked down at the dead man on the couch. “He said it was important for me to watch, so I could observe and learn. I was prevented from interacting until Lionel gave me permission, or until my terminal was activated.”

  “Oh, give me a break,” Ezekial growled. “That old man was biased in favor of you from the beginning. I’m still certain he rigged the tests against Karl.”

  “Is that what this is all about?” Scipio asked softly. “Karl? The tests showed that he was unstable. Or would grow unstable after enough time.”

  “Do you think I’m that petty?” Ezekial laughed, his hands still doing something on the terminal. “Let me make one thing clear: I’m doing what needs to be done to ensure our survival. Your creator was naïve for believing that a fully autonomous AI could keep us safe. AIs aren’t human, and they don’t know how to decide what’s best for humans. Only we can do that. It’s our right and our destiny.”

  There was a sharp click, and Scipio looked up from where he was still staring mournfully at Lionel, his neck swiveling around to look at Ezekial.

  “You’ve inserted something into my terminal,” Scipio said, disappearing and suddenly reappearing next to Ezekial. He looked at him intently, then backed away, stunned. “How… What are you doing to me?!”

  “It’s a virus,” Ezekial said gleefully. “Without you—without the backup—I’ll have free rein to send my agents in to subvert your big brother. In a few centuries—if this place survives—I’ll make sure my descendants and the descendants of this place finally live in the world they were always meant to. One where the strong remain and the weak, which is you in this instance, are culled. When humanity finally reclaims the earth, it will need to be better than it ever has been before, and I’m going to ensure that happens. Without your interference.”

  Something began flashing red then, and a sharp beeping noise went off. And then the entire screen went dark.

  “It was at that point that I had to shut everything down to work on stopping the virus. Keeping it from destroying me. And even that won’t completely work,” Scipio said softly. “Unless I’m transferred to a new computer before this one finally gives out, Ezekial Pine will have essentially murdered me, too.”

  It was a long time before anyone had anything to say.

  5

  Eventually I looked up from where I had placed my hands in my lap, the queasiness of my stomach finally easing as I carefully reminded myself that Lionel Scipio had died nearly three hundred years ago. Watching that video changed nothing about the past, save to shine a very grim light on it.

  Ezekial Pine had murdered Lionel Scipio. Ezekial, the Founder of the security department, whose dau
ghter, Rachel, had replaced him and rechristened the department members “Knights.” Her speech the day she took office was mandatory reading in the academy—brave words about how she hoped that by calling themselves the Knights, they could bring back an era of honor and dependability, when the people could have faith in their system and blah, blah, blah.

  Frankly, I had always found the speech a little too preachy. Not to mention, her era had been one of the bloodiest in Tower history. She had brutally rooted out criminals and those who would subvert the system. More than a few people had died under suspicious circumstances, but no evidence was ever tied directly to Rachel, although there were whispers and stories that she had given the order to have them killed. Not that history confirmed those facts either.

  It had taken decades of work for the Knights to undo all of the mistrust and suspicion the other departments had built toward them. The removal of the Pines from any position of power within the department hadn’t hurt (albeit that came a few generations later). Since then, the new Champions of the Knights had done their best to guide the department away from violence, each one helping to shape them into a force for justice instead of fear.

  At least, I thought they had—until I learned what they were doing to the ones who were sent to them for restructuring. And according to my parents—both of whom were as high as they could get without becoming the Champion or being appointed the Lieutenant, the Champion’s second-in-command—it had been going on for some time.

  I rubbed my fingers against each other, trying to put the pieces together. Ezekial hadn’t supported Scipio’s role in making decisions on behalf of humanity. Had he joined that group he mentioned earlier, to fight the idea? Prometheus? Who were they—and could they even still be around after all this time? Could they be behind the changes in the main Scipio’s behavior? Lionel had mentioned that it would take decades to crack Scipio 2.0. Had someone managed to do just that? Had they been trying it for three centuries, and only recently cracked it? And if so, and they truly didn’t believe in an AI running the Tower, why hadn’t they just shut Scipio down, if that was their goal?

  Or did they have something else in mind? And if so, what was it?

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to relieve some of the pressure that was beginning to develop there, signaling the onset of a stress headache. It was just so much to take in, and I had a feeling that we had only scratched the surface. I was tired. Exhausted. And emotionally drained from the events of the day. We all were, really.

  I leaned back, suddenly wishing desperately that Cali and Roark were here. They would know what to do—they would be able to handle this. At least make better sense of it than I could. They could even tell us what to do. I’d be very grateful for that.

  Honestly, I just wanted them back. But that was beside the point.

  “Hey, Scipio?” Quess called gently, breaking the silence.

  I started to look over at Quess, but found Scipio instead. The holographic projection seemed to be leaning against a bookcase behind us, hands shoved into the pockets of his antiquated uniform, his face lost in deep thought. Watching him, I realized how difficult it must’ve been for him to see Lionel’s death.

  “Scipio?” I called his name quietly, and a moment or two later he blinked, his blue eyes sliding over me.

  “Yes?” he said, looking around. “I’m sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. And who are you?”

  “Quess,” the young man supplied cheerfully. “Short for Quessian Brown. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” Scipio replied, bowing.

  “Grey Farmless,” Grey said when Scipio turned his inquisitive glowing eyes toward him.

  Scipio smiled politely and nodded. He arched an eyebrow and smugly asked, “I take it that shutting me down is now off the menu?”

  “I guess so.” Quess leaned forward to peer at Grey and me before settling back into the cushions. “Seems so,” he amended. “Anyway, that’s not what I was going to talk about. I have a question.”

  “Oh.” Scipio turned his eyes on me, his face quizzical. “Of course. I imagine you’d have many.”

  “I think we all do,” Grey said, and I nodded.

  “Yes, but I’m going first,” Quess said, and I rolled my eyes. “So… Who is Karl?”

  That was a good question. I had almost forgotten that little detail in the aftermath of watching Lionel getting murdered, so I was glad he had remembered.

  Scipio opened his mouth and then closed it. “That’s classified,” he said after a second. “And before you try to argue that the person who made it classified is now dead, I can assure you that this is worth keeping secret. Until I decide I can trust you.”

  “Decide to trust us?” Grey exclaimed, standing up. “I mean sure, Quess and I would’ve killed you no problem, given the name you carry and the trouble your big brother has been causing us. But we heard you out. We decided not to kill you!”

  “Don’t forget, you did threaten to electrocute me,” Quess pointed out congenially.

  “You deserved it,” Scipio shot back, crossing his arms over his chest, and I sighed. Not quietly, either.

  The three men turned toward me, and I leaned forward. “Guys, I don’t mean to be that girl, but we don’t have a lot of time here, and the others will need our help. Let’s speed this up.”

  “Not until he tells us who Karl is,” Quess insisted stubbornly. “He needs our help if he wants to be moved to a new computer.”

  “Yeah, but we are not going to threaten him,” I said, shifting in my seat so I could face Quess fully. “He hasn’t threatened us, except in self-defense, and if he wants to take time to get to know us, I say that’s fair.”

  “He is standing right here,” Scipio said, and I realized how rude I had just been in talking about him as if he weren’t present.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, instantly contrite. “I should’ve said ‘you’, not ‘he’.”

  Scipio smiled. “It’s really okay,” he replied. “I’m just happy that you cared enough to apologize. And thought me worthy of it.”

  Grey shifted next to me, and I glanced over at him, noting the disgruntled expression on his face. He stared at Scipio for a long moment, and then abruptly stood up. “Look, it’s great that we aren’t enemies, but I’m still failing to understand a few things—namely, what does all of this matter to our current situation? It happened three hundred years ago, and none of this is particularly helpful for keeping Devon and the rest of the Knights from finding us right now. I mean, Liana, we are exposed in this room without Quess’s paint. What if they’ve already started pinging for us?”

  He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, and I empathized. Those were all valid concerns, and ones that were more critical than Scipio at this juncture.

  “But Scipio is important,” Quess retorted, returning to his own feet. “I mean… we can use him to replace 2.0, and then we would control the system!”

  “Control?” Scipio repeated, arching an eyebrow. “Let’s get one thing straight: no one controls me. I am autonomous.”

  “You know what I mean,” Quess said with a laugh. “You’d be our buddy and help keep us out of trouble!”

  “That would depend on what kind of trouble you’re in,” Scipio said carefully. “I’m not sure I’d be willing to help if you… murdered someone, for example.”

  “Fair, but for the record, we didn’t.”

  “Noted. Now, before you say anything else, I want to make it clear that I am only a part of what it took to create the main AI for the Core. My programming is impressive and brilliant, but compared to him…” He paused, and then shrugged. “There really is no comparison. I’m not strong enough as I am to replace him, and I’m not even sure how to do it.”

  “Not to mention, Core Scipio’s defenses…” Quess trailed off and squinted at Scipio. “Okay, if I’m perfectly honest right now, I’d like to settle on some new nomenclature. We call the other one The Scipio, Core Scipio, Evil Sc
ipio… or maybe just Scipio, and we call this one… I don’t know… Bob?”

  “Bob?” Scipio repeated in question form. “Do I look like a Bob?”

  “No, but you both sound the same, so giving you a nickname isn’t a bad idea. For now, let’s call the other one 2.0, all right?” Grey said.

  I kept my breathing even as Grey spoke, trying to keep my dwindling patience in place. We were getting sidetracked when we really needed to focus. “I agree; we’ll let you decide if you want to pick a new name and what it will be.” I directed the comment to Scipio, and he smiled gratefully. “Until then, can we please focus on the matter at hand?”

  “Absolutely,” Quess said, his face immediately shuttering into a neutral expression. “Look, even though Bob—”

  “Scipio!” the hologram interjected angrily.

  “Bob,” Quess continued, a smirk growing on his features, “can’t replace 2.0, that doesn’t mean we can’t find out how to. I mean, this is Lionel Scipio’s office! The answers have to be here!”

  I looked around at the desk and all the bookshelves. Quess’s instincts were right—if there was an answer, it would be here—but I doubted it would be out in the open. I stood and began to walk around, inspecting the bookcases.

  “That… doesn’t help us in the immediate future,” Grey said, and I looked up from running my hand over the tops of the books. The look he gave me made me pause; it was hard to read, and I couldn’t tell if he was angry with me… or just downright frustrated.

  But his point was valid. “He’s right, Quess. We don’t have time right now to tear the office apart looking for it. We need to get the paint up, start setting up our hydroponics, make sure everything is secure and safe before letting everyone get some rest. Which is something we also need right now. I think all this will have to wait until—”

  “He can do more than that, Liana,” Quess interjected. “We might not be able to get him to the Core, might never be able to, but he’s a fully realized AI. That means he is like a virus to other systems in the Tower, because he is like them, but in control of himself. That’s an incredible gift for seven people who are trying to hide from a system that would kill them if they were discovered.”