The Children of New Earth (5 page)

He held up his book to me. “Here, start with this one.”

“Oh, no I couldn’t.”

“Making excuses are we?” he said facetiously.

“Nothing like that. It’s just that you’re still in the middle of it.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ve read this story countless times. You could say I feel like I’m a part of this universe,” he glanced at the book, “almost as much as I’m a part of the real one.”

“Well, if you’re sure, then thank you. I appreciate it.”

He handed the book to me, then put his hand on my shoulder.

“Remember, there is nothing wrong with indulging in fantasies, as long as you remember to return to reality.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Don’t mention it.” He smiled and walked away.

It was only after I read the summary on the book’s back cover that I realized I forgot to ask him my question.

It had been a few days and I had just about finished Mark’s AI Core. It was truly a magnificent invention, Dr. Hovian would be proud. He had fallen gravely ill shortly after I inherited his project, and I was afraid he wouldn’t be able to see what his work had become.

The boards were mounted on aluminum plating, and connected by a series of motors that allowed for arm movement. Along with the sensors, I also added several gadgets. A camera was attached at the top, and this whole structure was welded neatly onto the hover disk. The AI interface, though not yet perfect, was almost optimized. I called him the Cyclops Mark I because of his single “eye” or just Mark, for short.

About two weeks later, I was told that Dr. Hovian was awake, and wanted to see me. I rushed over to the medical ward and was sad to see that he looked quite weak.

He beckoned me over by slightly lifting his arm. “Thran, how is our science project going?”

I sat down next to him. “Wonderfully , Dr. Hovian. The hardware is all set up and I’ve significantly improved the AI. Would you like to see?”

“Of course!”

I turned my head to the door and spoke. “Mark, come say hello.”

After a few seconds, Mark came floating into the room and positioned himself at the foot of the bed. “Hello, Doctor.”

“Mark…I quite like that,” the doctor said faintly.

“I sense you are in pain, is there anything I can do to help?” Mark said in an empathetic tone.

“I am truly impressed. I could never give the voice a personality. This is…comforting.”

“Can I help you, Dr. Hovian?” Mark repeated.

“Thank you, but I’m afraid there is nothing to be done.”

“Vital signs are critical, I must insist on medical care.”

“Oh my.”

“Sorry, doctor,” I said. “He doesn’t seem to understand, um, your condition.”

“A robot that doesn’t understand death,” the doctor chuckled. “Well at least I can give one final lesson, a fitting one at that.”

He turned to Mark. “Mark, there comes a time when an organism’s vital processes, by several means, cease to function,” he coughed.

“Sometimes the damage can be healed, but other times the body is beyond medical repair and all bodily processes come to a stop,” he continued in a whisper.

“This…is known…as…” That’s when his voice trailed off and his eyes began to wander. He slowly and quietly exhaled, as if he was relieved, and what little life force was left in his veins finally left his body.

The room grew quiet. All I could hear was the faint whir of the hover disc, my steady breaths, and that cold, single tone of the heart monitor.

“…death,” Mark said.

Dr. Hovian was given a simple and dignified burial. I had only known him a short while, but I still felt like I had lost a dear friend. Cora, Aaron, and a few colleagues gave short speeches. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t think of the words. In the days following the doctor’s death, I retreated into his old lab and continued to work on Mark’s AI.

One day, Cora walked in to see Mark’s progress. “Well, it’s been a month, what have you got?”

I compiled my latest version of the code, then turned to Cora. “It’s just about done.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Well, don’t just sit there, let’s see it.”

“Oh…right,” I stammered. I flipped the switch and turned him on.

“Hello, Thran, my name is Cyclops Mark I, and you can call me Mark.”

“Impressive.” Cora seemed pleased.

Mark rotated his camera towards her. “Dr. Eltech, it is a privilege to meet you.”

“A privilege?”

“Yes. Based on my records, you are a renowned scientist, and your parents were quite influential in the pre-war human empire.”

Cora was silent.

“Doctor, your heart rate seems to have risen, are you alright?”

“Thran, shut that thing off.”

“Mark, go to sleep,” I said, as the robot floated to the ground and entered sleep mode. Then I turned to Cora. “Eltech? As in…THE Eltech family?”

“Yes, my parents owned the Eltech Corporation.”

“That’s amazing! I’ve worked with a bunch of technology created by that very industry.”

“Thran, you wouldn’t understand, but there are some things people like to keep to themselves.”

“Your parents were innovators, the most brilliant technological scientists of their time. Why would you not want people to know?”

“Like I said, you probably wouldn’t understand. How does he even know that?”

“Well, he can assimilate information like any person, except he keeps it in permanent memory. Dr. Hovian must have installed the information he already knows.”

“What a sociopathic little thing.”

“It was given life not long ago, and his AI Core is relatively new. He’s smart but he’s like a child. Give him time, and he will adopt to normal social conventions.”

“Fine, we’ll give him time,” she said, still unconvinced. “But if he starts causing trouble, you know what has to be done. Secrets are important here, and we can’t have someone - I mean - something, completely unfamiliar with the concept of discretion.”

“Understood. Do you understand Mark?”

Mark jumped to life. “Yes, sir. Secrets are important. I will withhold information unless I am asked explicitly.”

“Good.” I looked to Cora for approval.

She scoffed, but seemed more comfortable now. As she left the room, I wondered what other secrets I could learn from Mark.

Chapter 5

Not long after Dr. Hovian’s death, things went back to relative normality. The Parents were used to this kind of thing, but those of my age weren’t familiar with the concept of loss. As unfriendly as New Earth environment could be, it was nothing compared to the ten years of war that had preceded it. My life had changed so quickly, it was a wonder I hadn’t suffered multiple mental breakdowns by now.

To keep myself occupied, I spent the next few days optimizing Mark’s AI core. To do so, I used a series of test questions, some of which I derived from the Turing Test, which according to Dr. Hovian, was created by a man called Alan Turing long before the war started.

“What is your name?”

“I am Cyclops Mark I, but I am called Mark.”

“What is your purpose?”

“To aid and assist, in any way that I can, those that have given me consciousness.”

“What is your favorite color?”

“I find purple to be most aesthetically pleasing.”

“Define beauty.”

“Anything and everything that is of good nature.”

This I did not expect, though I was pleasantly surprised.

“OK Mark, now we are going to play a game called Simon Says, are you familiar?”

“Of course, Thran.”

“Let’s begin. Simon says spin.”

Mark hovered higher into the air and spun in a circle.

“Simon says clap.”

Mark made a clapping motion, though it was more of a metallic clanging noise.

“Simon says look up, down, left, up, left, right, down, right, then up.”

Mark’s camera moved appropriately.

“Now say ‘hello’”

Mark stayed silent.

“Simon says say ‘hello.’”

“Hello!”

“Say ‘goodbye.’”

Silence.

“Simon says don’t listen to Simon.”

Mark nodded.

“Simon says listen to Simon.”

Mark didn't move.

“Simon says wave your arms.”

Still no movement.

“You didn’t listen to Simon!”

“You said not to listen to Simon. Any command given to me after that, either by you OR Simon, became invalid.”

“Well done. Last question, Mark.”

“Wonderful pun, Thran!”

I smiled, then asked my question, “What is the purpose of our existence?”

Mark was frozen in thought. After a several seconds, he said in broken speech, “Error 42…message null…register overload…simulation constraint…reboot.”

“Damn, I need to fix that.” Mark would crash every time I asked him this question, though I couldn’t figure out why he had such a dramatic response. He always seemed to mention a simulation. I suppose this referred to Mark’s simulated consciousness. I eventually concluded, embarrassingly late, that this question could not be answered by some quick data analysis. Mark needed to have lived and seen the world before he was ready to answer a question that had even deluded mankind since the dawn of time.

As I waited for Mark to reboot, I wondered what Cora had been planning. The power was still in flux so travelling to other platforms, or even leaving the Sanctuary, was too risky. My wound had healed, but there was still a scar, and I definitely wasn’t ready for another close call with death. It’s almost enlightening to realize how quickly all your dreams and aspirations could be taken from you. When I was attacked by the Siren, a flood of thoughts overloaded my mind. The dominating one was that if I died, I would never be able to help carry humanity out of this Hell. But I was saved from death, and now realized the true value of life. My goal hasn’t changed, and it’s my responsibility to protect myself and those around me.

Mark finally finished booting up when Rachel walked in.

“Whoa, he looks so cool!” she said enthusiastically. “How does he work? Is he turned on?”

“Oh don’t you worry, he’s ready to go,” I chuckled. “Just talk to him.”

“OK, let’s see.” She cleared her throat. “Who’s more awesome, me or Thran?”

“Soldiers are needed to physically deter threats. Scientists are needed to provide soldiers with the means to do so. Soldiers need scientists for healing and technological purposes. Scientists need soldiers for protection against threats. A scientist built me, so I am inclined to say scientists are more vital to modern-day society. However, if there was an attack, soldiers currently have the capability to deter threats without the aid of scientists and have the knowledge to survive on their own. In short, scientists need soldiers, but soldiers do not rely as heavily on scientists.”

I stared at Mark, feeling quite betrayed. Then I looked at Rachel, preparing for her smug ‘I told you so’ face. But her eyes were closed, and she began snoring obnoxiously. After a few seconds she ‘woke up’, looking startled.

“Huh, what? Did he say I was more important?” she asked nonchalantly. “Sorry, he lost me at ‘soldiers are needed.’”

I scoffed. “Whatever.”

“Mark, you’re a pretty cool guy,” Rachel said.

“Thank you, Ms. Harper.”

“Whoa, how does he know my name?”

“I installed a bunch of new information,” I said. “He already had a huge database, I just added to it.”

“Impressive. Although, Ms. Harper is my mother. You can call me by my first name.”

“Of course, Rachel,” Mark said politely.

“Hm. Mark, what else do you know about me?” she asked cautiously.

“Your name is Rachel Harper. Daughter of Victor and Diana Harper. Age: 18. Height: 5 feet 8 inches. Weight: - “

“Whoa, there. A gentleman like you should know it’s not polite to mention a lady’s weight.”

“I’m sorry, I will remember this.”

“Can you tell me anything more…subjective?”

“Well, you are kind in nature. You have a quirky personality and an optimistic outlook on life. Also, your favorite color is blue.”

“Awesome.”

“Hey, what do you know about Cora?” I asked Rachel.

“Hm? Not much, she doesn’t like talking about herself,” she answered, still admiring Mark.

“Do you know about what she did during the war?” I asked hopefully. “She won’t tell me anything, but have you talked to her?”

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” I said quickly. “Mark was just saying some things about her and I wanted to make sure it was correct.”

“The only real thing I know about Cora is that she had a sister.”

“Really? What happened to her?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel said in a sorrowful tone. “She was hardly a teenager when the war started, and one of the only children to live through it. But she died the same year the portals closed,” she paused. “Hey, you said Mark already knows this stuff, why not ask him?”

“Well, Cora kinda said not to,” I said hesitantly.

“And you thought you’d ask me?”

“You’re human, and you understand privacy of information,” I said. “If Cora didn’t want people to know she had a sister, she wouldn’t have told you. The fact that she did tells me that information is at least OK to know.”

“I suppose…”

“Now, if I had asked Mark, he would’ve told me everything about Cora without a second thought.”

“Yeah, he’s not exactly discreet, is he?”

“But he’s learning,” I said defensively. “Our interaction just now taught him quite a bit. Watch this.” I turned to Mark. “Mark, tell me what Cora did at the end of the war.”

Mark paused for a moment. “I’m sorry, but besides the name of Cora’s late sister, Elysia, I cannot morally divulge any more information.”

“Elysia. That’s a beautiful name.” I smiled.

“My aesthetic translators tell me she was a beautiful girl, but sadly taken by the horrors of war,” Mark said in a sorrowful tone.

We stood in silence for a few moments. I never knew Cora had lost a sister. She always had a lively air about her, and despite her irritability, she was relatively cheerful. Though I suppose she never actually met her sister. I glanced at Rachel for a moment, shuddering at the very idea of losing either her or Aaron. Then I thought of Cora and Dr. Hovian. Over the past few months, they had become part of my family, and I’d already lost one of them. I didn’t even know what had become of my parents, but somehow I willed myself to believe they had defeated the anarchists, and were living safely in the Sanctuary. They were probably worried sick about me, but I promised myself that one day, when it was safe, I’d return.