Tseer!
The lazers were hot on CyKey's tail. He could almost feel the heat radiating from the overclocked engines on his neck.
Tseer!
His right thruster exploded in a blast of heat and debris flying into the darkness of space. His ship started to go spinning counterclockwise, nearly making him sick. As his trusty AI onboard switched all control on the pitch and yaw to his back engines, CyKey spun left.
Dead pan into a meteor, one of many in the Oort cloud.
The lights in the cockpit winked back on, and the hydraulics of the simulator cab opened the door outside. If it weren't for the fact this was a test on how the AIs he programmed ran in stressful situations, he would have thought it was a video game. And if he weren't a big-time computer programmer prodgy, he would be in school, instead of graduating Manhattan University when he was 12 and talking with the likes of Bill Gates and Stephen Jobs. Setting those thoughts aside, CyKey stepped out of the doorway, almost immeadiately bombarded with questions from the engineers who had been running the test.
"How did you get code string 46773 to run that remedy on the thruster explosion", "Who taught you how to write a semi-sentient AI when information on compiling them are so scarce?" and "Why did you bank into the meteor like that? You know even your programming can't handle that!" were thrown into the sea of questions, queries, pokes, prods, comments, and other asks that Adam (CyKey's real name) didn't have the time or patience for right now. At this point, all he wanted to do was a break, drink a soda, and maybe have a short nap before those kids from downtown San Fransisco came in on their yearly field trip. Lord knew he wanted to talk to people his own age again, but it looked for the moment that he would only talk to a bunch of 40-some year old loser engineers.
Not that he could easily meet another 13-going-on-14 year old in this building, let alone someone FUN. Then, his prayers were answered.
Everyone had always said that he would come at one of his facilities, totally without a hint of foreshadowing, totally spontaneous, and always, ALWAYS suprising. And here he was, in person, almost nonchalantly walking down the short stairway into the simulator bay. But every engineer in this sect knew his face by heart, and some had met him in the past.
"Mr. Jobs! We weren't expecting you today!" said one engineer, Michal Keer. He had come from the former Soviet Union in the late 1980s, and had stayed in the area for almost 20 years. Now 35, he had still kept his boyish charm and personality. When he wasn't on the clock, asking all sorts of questions on the new prototype, he was a fun guy to talk with. But this was definetely on-the-clock, and he was talking with The Boss, capital "T", capital "B"
"Well, that's to be expected. This is the first of our AIs to become more than semi-sentient through a neual net, is that not correct?" Jobs looked over the crowd, all of which were giving their undivided attention to him. "As I can well imagine, you have many questions about the neural net that he and I have jointly invented, and all answers will be given in due time. Now, can I have a minute with him?"
In Job's cushy office, one of which CyKey hadn't
seen before, was much more than extravagant. With a stocked bar (for guests,
Jobs didn't drink), a grand desk- with almost no clutter, but plenty of
papers- and some large, black circle directly in the middle of the desk.
Not asking what it was, Adam brushed it aside as some new techno gadget,
maybe one of those infared-sensative circular keyboards. Behind the desk,
behind Job's chair, therein lay a large liquid crystal window towards the
outside. It was a real window, taking in all the botanical and technological
delights of the campus. Jobs currently looked out on the premesis, having
the distinct air of a person searching for something.
I would almost kill for this kind of office...
Jobs turned around, headed for his desk,
and sat down, still looking towards the campus. CyKey had been sitting
for some time (Job's idea, even as Adam he had been polite to bosses.)
"I hope you had a good time with that AI of yours, eh, code number 28839?"
Jobs said, in the most nonchalant tone ever. Ironic that he had always
been called that since the British government found him in an alley, naked,
unconcious, with a freshly shaven head and a metallic plugin near the brain
stem.
"Well, yes, sir. I don't know why you and the US
officials always call me by my mourge ID number, but all ends well that
starts bad." CyKey tried to keep an air of respect towards his boss, but
it was difficult not to tell everything about the strange things in his
mind.
"Well, let's just say that we were...suprised to
see that event on your police record, especially since you were living
in Chicago when it happened. Not to mention the mortician going beserk
when you woke up just before he started in on making the incision for embalming."
Jobs said, with the slightest wisps of a smile on his face.
"Yeah, I remember that. But in England, they have
pretty strong superstitions about vampires and zombies, and if I were in
any other place instead of there, I wouldn't have had to run from a 30-year-old
anti-vampire type with a surgical scalpel in hand..." CyKey turned down
the end of the sentence with a beaming smile. He didn't have the self control
that Jobs had at the moment, but even in remembering the horrid situation
was funny to him.
"Well, I saw that as a personal trait when I signed
you up a year ago. It was 3 years ago, wasn't it? Has anything changed
since you got a psych evaluation?"
A pause of silence. No one had asked him anything
about it. They had always believed that nothing had happened, or everything
since he woke up with and extra five ounces of deadwheight in his head
was old hat to him now.
"No, sir. I thought that I was supposed to report
directly to you if there are any changes in my...implant."
A slow, drawn out, very well thought-through answer.
No one could even have the slightest suspicion.
"Ah, and you haven't reported anything yet, have
you? Not even the lightest of changes?" Yet another odd question from the
boss.
"No, sir, none at all. And, pardon me, but why are
you asking me all this?"
Jobs turned around, looking CyKey right in the eye.
"I really hoped you would ask that question. And you wouldn't believe my
answer, even if it is true."
Cold, crackling energies ten times the heat of the
sun.
He could feel it in his bones, the pit of his soul.
It was happening again.
Not that it altogether suprised him at all, it always
happened when he was asleep. he would have these visions of lightning and
thunder, and something that seemed...like nothing. Just a vast figment
of nothingness, the very absence of matter.
Dark matter.
That was always the words on his lips when he awoke,
and a buzz in the back of his head. Eminating from that five ounces of
deadweight in his head. Only this time, his dream was different in a way.
First, there was the lightning, as usual. Always
seeming to flicker behind his eyes, then all of a sudden appear all around
him, swallowing him. Then, the lightning faded out of existence, leaving
only a flicker or so of light and electricity. At this point, he thought
he was going to wake up, because it always wound down like that before
he opened his eyes.
Not this time. He was standing on what seemed
like a flat surface, in the middle of space. A sun seemed to rise above
the surface of...something. He couldn't see it quite clearly, but all of
a sudden the sun was full-blown on the surface of the huge mass. What he
saw astounded him.
A crystal clear picture of some odd blue, plantagent
sphere. Hundreds, thousands, millions of colors, all wriggling and moving
as if they were alive. Structures like geometrical figures, some like corkscrews
or an odd mix of a square and a sphere. But more important than all the
buildings...There was something moving, living inside. He could feel it,
sense it, touch it, but only so close to it, he could feel the distance
of thousands of light-years, even in this astral form. If only he could
get closer...
All of a sudden, he plummeted towards the surface
at what seemed like mach 5. He couldn't feel any force on his body, but
he could see, hear, feel in his breathing that he was falling all too fast
towards one of the vibrant multi-colored squares.
And he wasn't going to stop.