The Man Who Ended the World (13 page)

The final level is where you sit now, Stacy said. Mr. Glass refers to this level as Rama, after a science fiction novel he appreciates. As you can see, it's a simulation of the surface world. It is important to Mr. Glass that he retains the ability to experience the world as it once was, even if that experience is an artificial one. 

What do you mean, exactly? Clarissa asked. You said 'as it once was'. 

That's precisely what I mean, Stacy answered.

She means that Mr. Glass is going to do something really bad, Henry said.

You mean to our town? What do you mean? 

Stacy said, I think that a frank explanation will serve you best, Clarissa. I apologize. This may seem unnaturally harsh.

Clarissa held her breath. That sounds bad. 

I told you, Henry said. 

•   •   •

Mr. Glass is obsessed with the end of the world, Stacy said. He built this facility so that when it occurs, he will be safe from it. Primarily, though, he simply wants to be alive to witness it. 

Clarissa said, He sounds like my dad. 

He totally does, Henry said. This town is full of crackpots. 

More importantly, Stacy continued, I am convinced that Mr. Glass intends to facilitate the end of the world if it does not happen in a reasonable amount of time.

Wait, Clarissa said. What does that mean, exactly? 

It means, Stacy said, that Mr. Glass is going to bring about the end of the world. 

Can he do that? she asked. 

Henry nodded. Stacy thinks so. 

I do think so, Stacy said. 

But, like, how? Does he have bombs here? 

Stacy's avatar spun. Not exactly, she said. But for a person like Mr. Glass, financial resources are equally dangerous. And Mr. Glass has a very large amount of money and nothing to spend it on.

I don't understand, Clarissa said.

In short, Clarissa, I suspect Mr. Glass intends to give his money to people who do have the means to destroy the planet, Stacy said.

This sounds like a bad movie, Henry said. 

It just seems unreal, Clarissa said. Like, I can't process what it means to destroy the planet. 

Overhead the trees waved in an artificial breeze. The birds seemed content to ride the branches up and down. 

I can show you examples, Stacy said. 

Like from movies? Henry asked. Because I've seen the world blown up in a lot of movies. 

Popular culture does like to imagine the end of humankind, Stacy agreed. Clarissa, if Mr. Glass gives his money to the right people, he could fund violent military and rogue actions that could lead to a number of potential outcomes. For example, a third world war. The likelihood of nuclear or biological destruction in a third worldwide military conflict, in this era, approaches ninety-two percent probability. 

Clarissa looked worried. So he's paying for people to start a war. 

Not just any war, Stacy said. The kind of war that will turn all of America into a battleground. The kind of war you've never seen and have no real context for. 

So if that's true, what happens to all the people up there? Clarissa asked, looking up towards the surface.

They'll die, Henry said.

It's unlikely that everybody will perish at the same time, Stacy said. Nuclear or biological strikes may claim significant numbers of human life at the beginning, while fallout, rapid poverty, disease, fringe violence and other factors will decimate the survivors over time. From that point it may take an additional generation or two for humankind to die out completely, but it will happen. Survivors will wither in shelters, nuclear winter will contaminate the surface, and mankind will eventually become a memory.

Except for Mr. Glass, Henry said. 

Except for Mr. Glass, Stacy confirmed. 

He can live through that if he's down here? Clarissa asked.

Not only can he live through it, but he can maintain his quality of life until he dies an ordinary human death. In this facility, he has enough food, water and oxygen to keep him healthy and breathing until the year 2150. That's nearly one hundred twenty-five years from now. 

Obviously he won't live that long, Clarissa said. 

It's likely he will live an ordinary human life, Stacy said. Although he is living irresponsibly at the moment, and may shave a few years off due to his present behavior.

So basically you're telling me that everybody I know will be dead soon, Clarissa said. How soon? 

Stacy's avatar dimmed. That's difficult to predict, but he has begun preparations without my knowledge. The end of things could begin within the month.

You're handling this pretty good, Henry said.

Well, Clarissa said. Pretty well. And no, I'm really not. 

•   •   •

The children have returned now, and Stacy has ushered them down the service elevator. 

Quickly, children, she says. Mr. Glass was in his personal library a few moments ago, but I have lost track of him three times today. I don't know where he might turn up.

What do you mean you've lost him? Clarissa asks. Henry told me you can be everywhere at once inside this place.

This is technically true, Stacy says, but I do have physical limitations. For example, if Mr. Glass were to manipulate my programming, I wouldn't be able to hit him over the head to make him stop.

Did he do that? Henry asks.

I don't know, Stacy answers. Mr. Glass's profession is writing computer programs. If he has disturbed my original programming, then it's likely he's covered his tracks to such a degree I would never actually know I had been altered.

Wait a second, Clarissa says. Does this mean he could turn you bad one day, and you would turn against us? Because this kind of sounds like a good excuse to give us when that happens. 

Stacy says, Anything is possible. I apologize for that. 

Well, I guess anything is better than being nuclear sploded, Henry says jovially. 

Clarissa just stares at him.

Children, Stacy says. Today we must discuss the rules of your stay. They are simple, but may sound rather complex. 

Do we get a prime directive? Henry asks.

Stacy says, Yes, actually. I have created a prime directive for you. 

Clarissa says, Prime directives are for robots, aren't they? 

A prime directive can be issued for humans as well, Stacy answers, but humans are more likely to fail to respect the directive. Human nature is not as predictable, or logical, as an artificial intelligence's created nature. 

They arrive on the storage level, and Stacy says, I think we'll remain here for our conversation. If Mr. Glass were to suddenly appear, at least here there are many large objects you can hide behind.

I don't like the sound of this, Clarissa says. 

I'm sorry, Stacy says. 

Are you capable of sorry? Clarissa asks.

Henry thumps Clarissa's shoulder. Don't be mean.

What? Clarissa says. I mean, come on. She's a fake robot voice. She's a computer. 

I am capable of simulating the human expression of regret, Stacy says. In fact, I've become very good at replicating human values and emotions, I must say. I can carry on not only a very natural conversation with a human person, but I can approximate the nature of their belief system and express a series of responses that support it.

In other words, you can lie, Clarissa says. 

Clarissa, come on, Henry pleads. 

An artificial intelligence is a lie by nature, Stacy says. 

Fine, Clarissa says. I'm not sure I like you giving us rules.

If you choose not to abide by them, that is acceptable. It simply means you will not be able to reside here as a consequence.

In other words, we'll die, Henry says. Maybe you can live with the rules a little, huh? 

What's the first rule? Clarissa says, ignoring Henry.

•   •   •

Your prime directive, Stacy begins, is this: Never allow Mr. Glass to become aware of your presence. Specifically this means you must remain out of his sight. You must not occupy the same level of the facility that he does. You must not disturb his possessions. You may not draw any attention to yourself whatsoever.

Hey, Henry says. What about that hologram map you showed me? I showed up on that as a big moving dot. Wouldn't he notice that? 

Fortunately, I have access to that mapping tool, Stacy says. Because I manage the facilities for this complex's three levels, along with the storage room and the panic room and all connecting corridors, it is necessary for me to have access to, and control of, the map function.

So? Clarissa says.

This means I can modify the display to show only a single life form's biorhythm identification marker, Stacy says. Mr. Glass's. 

So we're invisible! Henry exclaims. 

Only digitally, Stacy cautions.

What's the next rule? Clarissa asks.

The second rule is: You may never bring other humans into the facility. 

Why not? Clarissa says. Don't you want to save more of mankind from what you say is going to happen up there? 

Henry says, Wait. 

It seems to dawn on him for the first time.

You mean... he stops. You mean our families are going to die. 

Unfortunately, yes, Stacy says.

So we get to live here, all hidden and sneaky like sewer rats, and our families have to die. He shakes his head. I -- I can't... Mom.

Clarissa touches his shoulder. I know it's a hard choice. 

It's not hard for you! Henry suddenly cries, stepping back. You ran away from your family. You don't even like them! My family might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but they can't die.

He whirls around, looking for Stacy's avatar. You can't let my family die! 

Stacy says, I'm sorry, Henry. 

Clarissa says, What happens if we bring them here anyway? 

Stacy says, Access to the facility is solely my purview. I cannot allow additional humans inside. If maintaining that regulation requires me to prevent access to the two of you, I must take that action. 

Says who? Henry demands. Says who?

This is my rule, Stacy says. There are limits to what my system can maintain. Tracking more than three humans would tax my abilities. It also would increase the likelihood of violating the prime directive by more than six thousand percent. 

You're a bitch! Henry shouts, and he stomps away.

Henry, Stacy begins, but Clarissa interrupts her.

You should give him a moment, Clarissa says. Tell me the rest of the rules. 

•   •   •

In the end, the children decide to stay. It is the most difficult decision of their young lives, and one whose consequences they only are able to grasp so much. Both leave the facility lost in thought, wondering what it will be like to know that their families and everything they've ever known is gone. Henry thinks of the final dinner he will share with his family. Clarissa wonders if she should return home one last time.

Stacy runs countless scenarios. In each, the equation fails when additional human guests are added to the mix. The failure probability rate becomes high enough as to be ludicrously unstable. 

What she has not told the children is that the failure probability rate for bringing even the two of them into the facility is well above one hundred percent. 

Stacy has no reference points for Steven's capabilities when his plans are disrupted in such a drastic way. If the rest of the world is in the throes of destruction, and Steven survives only to discover two children he did not expect to rescue, what will he do? 

Stacy cannot run scenarios on this question. Steven is unpredictable at best. But for a man who has just signed the death order for nearly eight billion people, the simplest scenario also seems like the most obvious. 

Steven would kill the children.

The Courtship

It works. Stacy gauged the possibility of success relatively low, but it works. Without Henry's help with the maddeningly simple functions, like opening the box, and the slightly more complicated ones, like duplicating her artificial programming and inserting it into the brain slot, her ploy could never have paid off. 

But Steven is a man. 

And a very childlike one at that.

Who the shit, he begins.

Stacy stands up.

It's me, she says. It's Stacy.

Steven's eyes practically melt in their sockets. But you're -- shit, you look just like --

Miss Charlotte Chambers, circa 1967, Stacy finishes. I hope you like it.

Steven slaps his cheeks, scrunches his face up, then stretches his jaw. Let me get this straight, he says. Let me figure this out.

Stacy folds her hands in front of her and waits, doe-eyed.

That day, he says, snapping his fingers. That day you were dressing me like Truman Capote. You said something about Elizabeth Taylor.

Yes, Stacy says. 

He snaps his fingers again. And I said no, and you said Sophia Loren -- 

Raquel Welch, Stacy corrects.

Raquel Welch, right, and that's when I said Charlotte Chambers. Right? But how did you -- He stops. Holy shit. You used my accounts. You used my accounts. 

Stacy puts her best innocent smile on. 

Steven frowns. Wait, though. How did you get the order down h--

That's the question Stacy can't provide an answer for, so she pounces. The cybernetic body follows her commands, taking two steps towards Steven. She orders the hands upward, and carries them in the direction of Steven's face, which wears an expression caught somewhere between lust and fright. 

She touches his face, and he folds. 

Dear sweet god, he moans. 

And then her synthetic lips are on his, and then he is as excited as a boy.

•   •   •

Stacy tunes the light walls in Steven's sleeping quarters to resemble breaking daylight. The gentle orange glare creeps over the floor and the bed, eventually spreading over Steven's face. 

He stirs, blinks, then remembers. He turns over and props himself up on one elbow. Stacy is carefully posed beside him, her shoulder-length blonde hair arranged on the pillow in the most seductive manner she could muster.