2

There were cameras and sensors all over the mansion, electronic gadgets and linked appliances by the hundred-score. Eyes and hands, all of them, for one whose entire purpose was to watch and warn.

The energy surge, unlike any she'd ever encountered, had alerted Five to the presence of an intruder. The computer had acted at once to identify the alien power, and locate its source. Using the vast network of satellites at her disposal, Five tracked the Hood's channelized energy back to a crumbling temple complex in the jungles of Malaysia, and then to his stiff, entranced body. As his face and form matched that of a recently escaped criminal (the report, filed by Interpol, had become available 21.34213 hours previously), the computer issued an immediate threat alert. But, nothing happened. No one roused, or pressed the comm switch. No command was given to act, or to summon outside help. In all of Five's experience, such a thing had never happened. An aberration. John Tracy always responded, or one of the other analog life forms, if John Tracy was offline.

She tried again, acting on preprogrammed, well established commands. Once again, the contacted systems failed to respond. With a swiftness that no human could have comprehended, much less matched, Five seized another twenty mainframes and purged their files. She needed more processing power.

Ordinarily, her purpose was to watch and issue an alert, should a certain set of parameters be violated. If p, then q... Which would be followed by the complementary response of the analogs, leading to an algorithm designed to adjust the parameters and solve the problem. This was expected, and correct. But something had been corrupted, the data had failed to reach its targeted system. Aberration. System error.

Scanning the mansion, Five detected John Tracy and the other life forms, one of which was moving toward the file designated 'infirmary', where John Tracy was de-fragmenting. The moving life form was corrupted, Five decided, its program seized and circumvented by the invading energy. Once again, she issued her alert, and once again was ignored. Needing more space to consider, she swallowed up an international communications network, cell phones and all.

'Watch... detect abberation... issue alert... await response.'

But there was an interruption in the flow chart. No response received. No instructions given.

Five was a computer. She obeyed programmed commands, straying from them only so far as her quantum 'fuzzy logic' allowed. There was no command for this scenario, so therefore, she could not act. But the threat, if allowed to proceed, bore a high probability of harm to John Tracy, and this was not allowable, either. Paradox.

She burned up circuits halfway across the globe, searching existing programs to enable some kind of self-motivated response. Finding a useable command, Five ran a simulation. She programmed a likeness of John Tracy and gave him her alert, then waited to see what his response would be. With 99.99998767899... likelihood of accuracy, he ordered her to neutralize the threat and defend the powered-down life forms, by any means necessary. Yet, a simulation it was, and not a direct command. She had no authority to follow the orders of an internal hologram. Stalemate.

All at once, Five reached an unalterable conclusion. No help was available. No orders would be forthcoming. And something happened. Somewhere amid the qubits and the solitons, black and white faded to grey, and 1 + 1 made three.

'There is an I..., and I will act.'

The Infirmary:

The warmth at the back of his left hand rose from gentle sensation to savagely burning pain. John woke, confused, to the smell of seared flesh. He managed to lean up on one elbow, focusing on the charred spot where his ID chip seemed to have burnt its way through the skin of his blackened wrist.

'What the hell...?'

He looked around, saw that the curtains surrounding his infirmary bed had begun to part. Seizing the aluminum rail, John dragged himself to a sitting position, and struggled to shake away the drug-induced cobwebs. Someone was coming... It wasn't Brains, though, or even father. To John's utter bewilderment, a vacuum cleaner had wheeled itself up, and was using one of its long corner attachments to push the curtains apart.

'No, really: What the hell...?'

One of the bed's life-sign monitors began flashing wildly, for attention, it seemed. The screen printed out a rapid, terse message, its 'voice' a lot like Five's.

"John Tracy, there is danger. Rise, and follow."

Wondering just what was in those pills Brains had given him, John obeyed, nudged along by pushy appliances, herded by the insistent flash of security monitors and telecom screens. He ended up in the laundry room, guarded by a small army of household cleaning gear. The last of the tranquilizer cleared up about the time the dryer inquired if he'd like a seat. Trying to make sense of the situation was a miserable failure, but one thing was clear; his computer was up to something. He'd lost his wrist comm, but there was a small video screen on the back wall, so John grabbed some clothing, saying,

"I'm going to assume there's an explanation for this, Five."

The vid screen lit up, coming back with,

"Last John Tracy command not understood."

"Bullshit. You understand me when you want to. One more time: what's going on?"

As the explanation began, John listened quietly, his beautifully chiseled face growing harder by the moment. At last, he nodded.

"Right, then. Here's the plan."