Until finally they stared straight into the heavens, falling upward along with a thousand Niagara Falls—the roar filled their ears as terror gripped their uncomprehending minds.
“A fishing trawler got caught up in the test, Mr. Director.”
The voice came over the intercom into the observation gallery. Graham Hedrick sat surveying a control room lined with thin film displays and workstations—most of it AI-automated but not all. There were still a few scientists down there manning workstations. A towering holographic satellite image spread before him on a central dais. It was focused on a broad expanse of the South Pacific, where a supernatural funnel of water rose from the sea, pouring into the upper atmosphere. The view from space was spectacular, but then it was always spectacular. It was the test results that needed to be spectacular.
“Do we power down Kratos, Mr. Director?”
Hedrick frowned in irritation. “We’re not going to interrupt a billion-dollar test because some pirate fishing boat wandered onto my test range. This section of ocean was supposed to be clear of shipping—whose responsibility was that?”
A pause. “An AI, from strain R-536, sir.”
“Damnit.” It was immensely unfulfilling reprimanding AIs. They always had a built-in you’re-the-one-who-created-me excuse. “Find out which team evolved R-536 and where else it’s been deployed. This was sloppy work—not checking for unregistered vessels. Give it and its progeny a red ticket.”
“Understood, Mr. Director. What about the fishing trawler?”
“Jam its distress calls.” Hedrick cut the connection, then brought up his project leads onto several holographic screens. “What’s our telemetry look like?”
The elder of the two scientists spoke first. “Kratos is maintaining ninety-four percent power with no discernible fade. We’re projecting a gravity field a mile in diameter from an altitude of twenty-two thousand, two hundred thirty-six miles. Displacing approximately four hundred billion—”
“Maximum acceleration?”
Both scientists were suddenly quiet, waiting for the other to talk.
He stared hard at them. “What is our maximum acceleration?”
This finally shook an answer out of the older one. “Zero-point-nine-eight Earth gravities.”
Hedrick looked to the younger scientist. “So there was no increase in the excitation of the boson field? Mass remained constant?”
The scientists exchanged looks.
“Can you please explain how all these changes made no difference? This is where we started.”
“Our changes may not have increased gravitation, but Kratos is far bigger than anything we’ve—”
The elder scientist cut in. “We’re still evaluating the quantum physics of this technology, Mr. Director. There are competing theories as to why Mr. Grady’s apparatus works at all. It’s possible that what it’s creating is actually a distortion in space-time, not a manipulation of gravity. Even the Varuna AI hasn’t come up with answers.”
“Not good enough. It’s been years since we harvested this technology, and we still don’t even understand it. It’s not enough that we reflect gravity. We need to be able to create gravity from energy. We are no closer to doing that today than we were three years ago.”
“But we’ve discovered the means to project the gravity mirror over arbitrary distances. That’s a major advance.”
“A necessary advance. And so, too, is the ability to amplify gravity.”
“Having a goal doesn’t make it possible.”
“You just got through telling me you and your whole team still don’t understand the technology we have. I thought that was the whole point of putting you in charge. We are not without rivals or detractors—you realize that, don’t you?”
“Yes. I assure you we’ve been examining every angle we can think of.”
“That’s the problem: You’re apparently not able to conceive of the answer. Or perceive it—you and the synthetic intellects both.” Hedrick looked down into the control room, where technicians were high-fiving one another. The first full-scale test of the gravity mirror satellite certainly appeared to be a success in their eyes. “They don’t even seem to know they’ve failed.”
“We did succeed in creating the largest gravity mirror yet, sir.”
“I get large. Now I want powerful.”
A technical operations officer appeared as a hologram. “You have a call from L-329 at BTC Russia, Mr. Director.”
“Damnit, they’re not BTC Russia. They’re an illicit organization.”
“Sorry, Mr. Director. I was simply repeating—”
“It has no authority whatsoever.”
There was a pause.
“Did you still want to take the call, sir?”
He took a deep breath. “I hate talking to this thing.” Hedrick looked to the ceiling. And yet he knew why it was calling. It was one of the very reasons for the gravity demonstration, after all. “Varuna.”
The console’s voice emanated from the ceiling. “Yes, Mr. Director.”
“Adjust the modulation of my voice while I speak with L-329. Make sure everything I say has a sound pattern consistent with confidence and honesty.”
“I will modulate your speech transmissions to convey the desired effect, Mr. Director.”
Hedrick spoke to the operations officer. “Send the call through.”
In a moment a cartoon cat with large green eyes replaced the tech officer’s holographic image. The cat was apparently the L-329 AI’s latest avatar. It nodded in greeting. “Director Hedrick. We have detected a gravitational anomaly in the South Pacific that is a cause for collective concern.”
“I’m not only aware of it, I’m creating it.”
There was a pause—for calculated effect Hedrick assumed. AIs of this magnitude could conduct a conversation at billions of words a second. BTC records showed that L-329 had originally grown out of a poker-playing algorithm that was expanded to game financial markets. It incorporated neural logic for adaptive human psychology—logic that had quickly evolved with the addition of massive processing power. Bluffing was one of its core skills. Probably the reason for selecting a harmless-looking avatar, too.
“The mass present at the site of this anomaly is inconsistent with observed phenomena.”
“We’ve developed a new physics.”
Another pause. “You’re modifying your voice. I am unable to determine the veracity of your statements.”
“I don’t care whether you believe me. Your technology portfolio is rapidly becoming obsolete.”
“Are you prepared for the consequences of a such an innovation, Mr. Hedrick?”
“Maybe you forgot, but managing consequences is the BTC’s mission.”
“I wasn’t referring to the consequences for human civilization, Mr. Hedrick. I meant the consequences for you personally.”
Hedrick felt his blood rise. “Your organization is illegal. I will have your portfolio again. And Attu’s as well.”
“Neither we nor BTC Asia are without technological defenses.”
“Not for much longer. And you’re not the BTC. Neither of you are. I will bring you back under my control.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.”
Hedrick cut the line. “Goddamn glorified poker bot.”