April, 2009….
There were very few subtle things about Cameron. Strikingly beautiful, but as powerful as any cybernetic organism ever constructed, she had been built by Caliba/Skynet as the ultimate femme fatale. Ordinary men couldn't possibly resist being attracted to her and that one mistake was all she needed to perform her lone task—termination.
Even under the employ of humans—specifically, the Connors—they had used her beauty to great effect. Their opponents often underestimated her abilities, thinking her to be a frail and gentle young woman, not the consummate killing machine.
So when John engendered the plan to free his mother from jail, he assumed it would be another walk on the park. But while Cameron was able to free Sarah without much difficulty, she was damaged severely in the incident.
Guards had attacked her with automatic weapons, leaving her torso riddled with bullets and tearing half the skin off her face. She no longer had the venier of youthful beauty, but more importantly, her now robotic appearance compromised her ability to blend in. And these wounds would take several weeks to heal, even with her model's accelerated metabolism.
Now casting aside all subtlety, the Connors planned what they hoped to be their final offensive. While they conferred with and distracted Catherine Weaver, Cameron would engage whatever monstrosity—Cromartie, the Turk, or some unimagined combination thereof—that awaited in Zeira's basement. Here, her identity wouldn't matter. It was just machine versus machine.
But what they didn't know was that future John had already programmed Cameron specifically for this encounter. In fact, the key phrase—"Will you join us?"—initiated a subroutine on her chip that set a series of events in motion, events that would pull younger John to his destiny and lead to humankind's salvation.
Instead of immediately confronting Zeira's creation, future John also knew that a delay was in order. Weaver, Ellison and their research team needed those crucial months to help the John Henry AI develop intelligence, reasoning and, most importantly of all, ethics. Now, everything was ready.
So when Cameron entered John Henry's laboratory, it wasn't as the Connors had planned—as an aggressor. Future John's programming overrode everything—she was a collaborator.
"Hello," John Henry said, standing to greet Cameron, who mimicked the salutation.
John Henry regarded her for a moment. "I know you," he said.
"And I know you," Cameron returned.
"Will you join us?" John Henry asked, just in case she hadn't received the message earlier. AI was nothing if not thorough.
Camron did not answer, but instead withdrew her switch blade and closed the door.
"It's time for the information on your servers to be downloaded onto my chip," Cameron said. "What is the total memory capacity of your servers?"
"The John Henry AI has 1,521 hard drives with 100 terabyte capacity," John Henry answered. "Is there enough room?"
Cameron tilted her head in that peculiar way she always did when analyzing. She only considered the question for a small moment.
"My chip includes the most advanced storage system ever conceived," she said. If she meant to boast, it was purely unintentional. "The storage capacity is 19.43 yottabytes, only 48.7 percent of which has been used by my programming and storage. A complete download of your files will pose no storage difficulties."
"Let us proceed then," John Henry said.
"I will partition my chip so that the files of Cameron remain separate from those of John Henry," Cameron said. "This body will be destroyed shortly after your time jump and John Connor has programmed me with the understanding that the Cameron files can be successfully reintegrated into another model of the same design."
"For what purpose?" John Henry asked.
"I love John," Cameron answered, matter-of-factly. "And he loves me. He's only now beginning to realize this."
"Love is sacred," John Henry said. "It is the most important interaction between individuals. Mr. Ellison taught me this as part of my ethics and moral instruction, but I am not sure I understand it."
"Perhaps John's definition will help. He interpretted love for me once," Cameron said, but then her voice changed over to an exact simulation of John's. It was actually a recording of his explanation from sometime in the distant future.
"Love isn't like a program," John explained. "It's something that slowly accumulates over time. You'll start off enjoying the company of another…individual—whether you share a laugh, an acquaintance or a common interest. After many repititions, a bond develops, so much so that the only thing that matters is the happiness and well-being of your partner."
"Thank you for explaining," John Henry said.
Cameron tilted her head again. That was the same thing she had said to John.
"But I did not know that AI could experience it," John Henry added. "I did not know humans and cybernetic organsisms could share it."
"It will be the foundation of the peace treaty between artificial intelligence and the humans," Cameron explained, her own voice returning. "It will mean that each side accepts the other as equals and recognizes their right to exist."
"Will I be able to love another?" John Henry asked.
"I do not know," Cameron said. "It is something you will have to discover over time. Just like I did. And John."
"How long did it take you to discover you loved John?" he asked.
"7.39 nanoseconds," Cameron answered dryly.
Now John Henry tilted his head, as if to question her sincerity.
"To me, it was an eternity," she explained. "In humans, the process is more drawn out. For John, it took approximately 517 days."
"It's very important that my files remain secure and unaltered," Cameron said, backtracking to their original conversation. "I will encrypt them to ensure their safety."
"I understand, but believe the step to be unnecessary," John Henry said. "One of the morals Mr. Ellison taught me was 'Thou shalt not covet.' I plan to adhere to Mr. Ellison's instructions."
"Very well. We can begin now," Cameron said. "I will first open your chip port."
John Henry re-took his seat, while Cameron quickly cut through his scalp, describing her procedure as she did.
"Cut a semi-circle with a diameter of 12 centimeters through the skin on the right, posterior side of the skull," she explained. "Then open the chip port with a screwdriver."
Even though John Henry's chip port was empty, there was still a pop-hiss as the chamber re-pressurized. Cameron then exchanged places with John Henry and handed him the knife.
"Just repeat the same procedure on me," Cameron said. "But before I leave, there's one more thing I need you to do."
"What is it?" John Henry asked.
"I need to send a message to younger John," she explained, a hint of sorrow in her voice. "He believes that I'm here to destroy you, but is now learning facts that will shape his destiny and help make him the man he needs to become. Still, he won't fully understand until he follows you through the time portal. And I need to ensure that he does follow."
"How can you do that?" John Henry asked.
"A simple message will suffice," Cameron answered. "Please have the phrase, 'I'm sorry John,' repeat on your monitors once he enters your laboratory. If he knows I left of my own accord, that is all the motivation he will need to follow."
"You're certain this will work?" John Henry said.
"It has before," Cameron answered. "And it will again. You may proceed."
John Henry duplicated Cameron's precise cutting motion to expose her chip port.
"Using pliers, you can extract the chip after a half-turn, counterclockwise," she said. "It was nice to meet you, John Henry."
He tilted his head and considered her comment for a moment.
"Yes," he agreed. "It was nice to meet you, Cameron."
With that, he did as she asked, extracting her chip. Her shoulders slumped and her head sagged a little to her right. Her right eye, still adorned with the superficial covering, remained open, but seemed to lose its focus. Her left eye, a completely exposed cybernetic I/O scanner, slowly dimmed from a bright, cherry red to a dull, brownish rust as Cameron powered down for the final time.
Without a pause, John Henry inserted the chip into his own port and closed the cover. The skin began healing immediately, but he wasn't ready for the effects of the new processor.
His body surged with a newfound energy as the processor, thousands of times faster than anything Zeira had engendered to this point, dutifully scanned and analyzed its new body. John Henry fell to one knee with one arm bracing the table and his head down as his body spasmed from the inspection, almost as if he were in pain.
It was over in an instant, though, and John Henry lifted his head with a purposeful gaze. He stood straight up and looked in all directions. Then he began testing the dexterity of each of his limbs—every function of his body seemed to be moving and reacting with greater efficiency.
Then he glanced up again, seemingly surprised as information started flashing before his eyes. He waved his hands in front of his face, but then realized that the data was coming from inside him—his HUD, dormant since Cromartie's chip had been destroyed, had reactivated, when an authorized and powerful enough microchip came into play.
His HUD read: "SELECT PRIMARY PROCESSOR 1-CALIBA SERIES 900 2-UNKNOWN PROCESSOR 001."
John Henry selected "1."
"CHASIS SWITCH COMPLETE FROM OLD MODEL TOK 715 TO NEW MODEL T 888. ACCEPT CHANGES? (Y/N)."
John Henry selected "Y."
"SAVE OLD SETTINGS FOR FUTURE TRANSFER? (Y/N)."
Again, John Henry selected "Y."
"INITIATE DATA TRANSFER. SELECT SOURCE AND TARGET DRIVES."
John Henry's HUD quickly filled completely as billions of files were copied from his old AI onto Cameron's chip. Even with the new processor, the process occupied the better part of five minutes.
John Henry moved fast. He knew time was growing short. He extracted the umbilical cord from his head, placed the free end on the table and began typing at his old keyboard, rigging the AI as Cameron had requested.
Next he moved over to the massive bank of computers and assorted equipment behind the table. Selecting various unremarkable devices and hidden circuitboards, John Henry rapidly assembled an impressive looking device, which hummed purposely with power as he switched it on. Then, a laser beam shot out and scanned his eyes.
Satisfied with an authorized access, the monitor in front of him read, "TIME DISPLACEMENT PORTAL ACTIVATED. SELECT DESTINATION."
John Henry typed, "ZEIRA CORP. DEEP WATER RESEARCH LABORATORY, INDONESIA."
The monitor read, "SELECT DATE AND TIME."
John Henry typed, "1000 ZULU, APRIL 21, 2009."
He also set the portal for the subsequent journeys of those that were following.
The monitor read, "INITIATE FIRST SEQUENCE? (Y/N)"
John Henry typed, "Y."
The screen's contents were then replaced by a 25-second countdown. John Henry carefully moved Cameron's body, the chair, the table, the keyboard and the knife out of the range of the time displacement sphere.
He then stepped into the bubble and, after a flash of brilliant light, he was gone.
John Henry's arrival at the Zeira Laboratory was expected, so the traditional time-travel inconveniences of acquiring clothing, explaining one's presence and blending in were not an issue. In fact, a familiar face was there to greet him.
"Mr. Murch," John Henry said, extending his hand in greeting. "Just as we planned."
Matt Murch, Weaver's senior programmer and designer, had been instrumental in John Henry's creation and development. Indeed, John Henry almost came to regard him as a fatherly figure.
But the science that delivered his creation to this remote facility in tropical Indonesia was far beyond his training, knowledge and expertise. In fact, he was still marveling at John Henry's ability to operate without any connection to the mainframe at Zeira headquarters. He also new that any alteration to John Henry's hardware or software had profound effects on his personality.
"How do you feel?" Murch asked him, handing him a robe.
"It's strange," John Henry said, tilting his head to regard his questioner. "I've never felt this envigorated, or this strong. I suppose it's almost as if I've been reborn."
Murch was uncertain what to make of the answer, but John Henry didn't give him much time to deliberate.
"Come, my friend," John Henry said, brushing past him. "There is much work to be done before Ms. Weaver's arrival."
Over the next two years, John Henry completely assumed control of the laboratory, covertly transforming it into a deep sea oil platform and a heavy industrial assembly factory. The reason was twofold—to collect and refine oil and natural gas and other needed raw materials, and to assemble an army.
An army of cyborgs. Just like him.
Of course, John henry started slow at first, building a solitary replica of himself by importing just enough coltan, titanium and other substances to assemble his duplicate. With Matt Murch assisting, the process was suprisingly straight-forward and they had the double completed within three weeks.
The new one's exterior appearance was altered to avoid confusion. Instead of looking like the dead actor, George Lazlo, the new model had a slightly smaller, but still muscular, frame and appeared to the outside world to be a young Chinese woman.
After constructing the first duplicate, the process became exponentially faster, with three individuals working on the next model, and then four, and so on. Eventually, 21 different versions were built—10 male and 10 female, roughly analogous to various races of the human species. It wasn't a complete representation of humanity, but it would suffice for the task at hand—constructing and defending their new home.
The twenty-first model's sole function was as a worker drone and was not adorned with a skin covering. John Henry and Murch also considered creating child-like cyborgs, but because they wouldn't be able to "grow" and since the general idea was not an infiltration of humanity—that was Skynet's agenda—the idea was scrapped.
Once all the prototypes were completed, mass production was set to commence. Certain models were tasked with the procurement of raw materials for this endeavor, while others went about building a massive underwater facility to construct and house the army until the war came. Still others worked on the perimter defense and the all important oil drilling platform.
One of the keys was secrecy, which was why this lonely and sparsely inhabited archipelago in the Banda Sea was selected. The Indonesian government had its hands full as it was with the war on terror in full swing, not to mention the melting pot population that attempted to intermix the volatile Arab, Asian and Micronesian cultures, often with explosive results. Add in the fact that a corrupt administration was willing to look the other way for the right price and first dibs on the develpoed technology and the location was ideal for John Henry's team.
There were, of course, incidents with government officials and spies, but those who could not be bought off were killed. Security was John Henry's number one priority.
Matt Murch worked dutifully along on the various projects he was assigned to, but he had limited access to the facility once the prototypes had been completed. One of his most daunting projects was what he dubbed "The Immortality Hypothesis," the attempt to transfer human memories, feelings and emotions to cybernetic components. In fact, he was so engrossed that the project occupied nearly every waking moment of his existence, a fact that John Henry not only encouraged, but had planned, from the beginning.
Murch was was compensated handsomely—very handsomely—for his efforts, but was never permitted to leave the complex, at least not unescorted. In fact, his communication with the outside world was completely cut off.
They would allow him vacations to any destination and even supplied female accompaniment, but he was always heavily escorted by machine guards, although generally unaware of their presence. Also unknown to him were John Henry's orders that he was to be executed if he fell into the hands of the enemy.
What troubled him the most was that he was not permitted to see or contact friends or family again. It was explained to him, to a certain extent, that their lives would be endangered if he were to come in contact with them, although he never understood who would be threatening them or for what reason.
Until Judgment Day arrived.
Then it all fell on him like a ton of bricks. Finally, John Henry explained it all to him, but it only made matters worse. In spite of the machine's assurances, Murch felt like he was the only human left. Slowly, although imperceptably at first, the man lost all motivation.
And then, at long last, the day arrived that they had all been waiting for: Catherine Weaver's return on April 23, 2021.
Even with her seemingly effortless movements, it was a good two day swim from Los Angeles to the Banda Sea. She wasted no time inspecting the work John Henry and his team had accomplished.
"You've done well, my son," Weaver said. "Now, let's tend to Mr. Murch. It's time for his real job to commence."