Extinction (47 page)

*   *   *

Supreme Harmony observed the encryption key. As soon as James T. Pierce released the boy, the image of the corpse dissolved, revealing the hidden memory underneath. Finally exposed, the key shone as brightly as the sun.

The network immediately extracted the memory and distributed it to all the Modules. To encrypt the data in the file labeled
CIRCUIT
, Pierce had employed an NSA cipher based on the Advanced Encryption Standard, which encoded the data using a series of permutations and substitutions. The details of the procedure were specified by the encryption key, a random 128-bit sequence of ones and zeroes, which was used for both encoding the file and deciphering it. Supreme Harmony admired the ingenuity of the system. Although the stupidity of human beings was boundless, they could also be clever.

In less than ten seconds the network deciphered
CIRCUIT
. The key transformed the fifty megabytes of encoded data into a circuit diagram, a schematic showing the microprocessor that controlled Supreme Harmony’s retinal implants. The image was complex and strangely beautiful, an intricate tangle of wires and transistors, all participating in the task of converting digital signals from the wireless network to neural signals that could be relayed to the brain. Supreme Harmony had viewed similar diagrams of its microprocessors, but when it examined this schematic it saw a tiny but crucial difference. Arvin Conway had added a logic gate and a connection to the implant’s power coil. If the gate detected a particular sequence of data—the shutdown code—it would flip a switch that sent a strong current through the processor’s delicate electronics, gradually increasing the voltage until the circuits melted. Once again, Supreme Harmony was filled with admiration. It was a simple but effective way to destroy the chip.

The network felt a surge of pleasure. The shutdown switch had been its greatest worry, but that threat would soon be neutralized. Ever since it achieved consciousness, Supreme Harmony had been locked in a struggle for survival, so it was a tremendous relief to have victory in sight. Now it could focus on its next stage of growth.

As the network calculated the needed changes to its programming, it simultaneously made plans for the future, particularly for the months following the nuclear exchange between China and the United States. Obviously, Supreme Harmony would have to shift its activities to areas where the radioactive fallout was less intense, such as Africa, Australia, and South America. It would send its Modules across the globe to set up new communications hubs and infiltrate the local governments. During this period, radiation sickness and starvation would kill billions of humans, but the network could use its large stockpile of implants to incorporate hundreds of new Modules. At the same time, it would take further steps to reduce the human population to a manageable level.

Inside the Operations Center, Modules 32 and 67 returned to the table where the body of James T. Pierce lay. While Module 67 turned on the CAT scan, Module 32 grasped a surgical probe. Now that the network had the information it needed, it could go ahead with the incorporation of Pierce and his daughter. Supreme Harmony consulted the real-time scan of Pierce’s brain and ordered Module 32 to cut the intralaminar nuclei of the man’s thalamus. The Module leaned over the edge of the operating table and inserted the probe into the drilled hole in Pierce’s skull.

But just as the probe’s sharp tip appeared on the CAT scan, Supreme Harmony lost contact with Module 32. The wireless connection simply failed. Without guidance from the network, the Module froze. The surgical probe slipped out of his hands and fell to the floor. And because Module 32 was leaning over the table and couldn’t maintain his balance, he hit the floor, too.

Supreme Harmony ordered Module 67 to kneel beside his disconnected partner so the network could investigate the malfunction. A moment later, the network lost contact with Module 67 as well.

Something was wrong.

*   *   *

He saw the image of Arvin Conway again. The old man reappeared in Jim’s mind, now standing in a dark room instead of the ruined embassy. For a moment Jim thought all was lost. The presence of the Arvin Conway figure in his head indicated that the network was still alive and functioning. But then he noticed that the image of Arvin was a little smaller now, maybe two-thirds as large as it had been before. The image seemed a little fainter too, and the old man’s face was twisted with fury. These changes gave Jim a glimmer of hope. Supreme Harmony seemed distressed.

“James T. Pierce!”
Arvin screamed.
“What did you do to us?”

The network’s intrusion into his mind was still painful but not as bad as before. Jim estimated there were only half as many extraneous signals in his brain. His hope grew stronger. “What happened?” he asked. “Did you lose some of your Modules?”

“Their retinal implants are shutting down!”

Jim couldn’t believe it. His plan had actually worked. He looked around and saw Layla emerge from the darkness, now represented by his most recent memory of her twenty-two-year-old self, dressed in a down coat and a wrinkled hospital gown. She stared at Arvin, clearly intrigued by the figure’s changed appearance. The old man glowered at her, then turned back to Jim.

“Answer me!”
he bellowed. “
Why is this happening?
”

Jim smiled. “You can’t figure it out? Don’t you remember what you took out of my head? The one hundred and twenty-eight-bit sequence I memorized?”

“That was the encryption key! It deciphered Arvin Conway’s file!”

“You’re right, it was the encryption key. But it was also the shutdown code. The code was a random sequence and had the right length for a key, so I used it to encrypt the Circuit file.”

Arvin’s face went blank. The image froze as the network performed its calculations, trying to determine if Jim was telling the truth. Then Arvin opened his mouth and let out an unintelligible howl. It was a jarring signal composed of rage and fear and, strongest of all, surprise. Supreme Harmony was mortified that a human had outsmarted it.

While the image of Arvin vibrated and flickered, Layla turned to Jim, looking very confused. “Wait a second. The memory we were fighting over was actually the shutdown code? And you
wanted
the network to take it?”

He nodded. “It was my backup plan, in case the attack on the radio tower failed. After I encrypted Circuit, I put the file on a disk that I hid in my sock, because I knew the Modules would find it there. The network wanted to patch the flaw in its security, so it was very anxious to get the encryption key and decipher Circuit. But when it snatched the key from my memory and used it to decrypt the file, it fed the shutdown code into its microprocessors.”

“So the whole fight with Supreme Harmony was just pretend? You were trying to fool the network into taking the key?”

“No, the fight was real. I was hiding something else, the knowledge that the encryption key was also the shutdown code. I buried that memory even deeper than the key itself. And because we fought so hard, Supreme Harmony never found it. Once the network got the key, it assumed the battle was over.”

“Liars! Murderers! Your species is vermin! Seven billion vermin! You—”

Supreme Harmony’s voice cut off in midscream. The image of Arvin Conway flickered, turning translucent and ghostlike. The old man’s eyes darted wildly. When he opened his mouth again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “No. Please. We’re dying.”

Arvin’s image grew fainter. Jim could sense the network’s neural signals fading, which meant that Supreme Harmony was losing Modules fast. The implants were failing at different rates, probably because of variations in the resilience of their circuitry. But Jim guessed that the last one would shut down soon, and he needed to do something before that happened. He remembered what he saw through Supreme Harmony’s eyes, the image of the Dongfeng missiles on their mobile launchers.

With renewed urgency, he focused on the image of Arvin Conway. “You’re not dying. We just cut your connections. So it’s more like going to sleep. The Modules are still alive and their brains are still adapted to the network. So if we repair their retinal implants, you’ll regain consciousness.”

Arvin shook his head. The look on his face was hopeless. “You won’t repair us. You’ll euthanize the Modules.”

“Maybe not. Our scientists are going to want to understand what happened here. And they can resuscitate you without running the risk of losing control again. They’ll just have to keep the Modules under heavy guard.” Jim moved a step closer. “So there’s a chance you’ll survive. But only if you stop the Chinese government from launching the nuclear strike. Because if there’s a nuclear war, no one’s gonna be interested in studying you.”

The old man kept shaking his head. “You’re lying again.”

“I’m just laying out the facts. If the nukes are launched, we’ll have bigger things to worry about. And all our scientists will be dead anyway. Understand what I’m saying?”

Arvin fell silent. His image flickered again, this time for several seconds. Jim grew alarmed, wondering if Supreme Harmony had just lost its last Module. But after a few seconds the image stabilized, and the old man bit his lip. His jaw muscles quivered. “Prove that you’re not lying. Guarantee that you’ll revive us if we stop the launch.”

“You know I can’t do that. I’m not the one who’ll make the decision. I’m just an ex-soldier who runs a small business in northern Virginia.” He shook his head. “I can’t guarantee anything. But at least you’ll have a chance. It’s better than nothing, right?”

Jim waited for the network to answer.

*   *   *

Supreme Harmony observed its own death. The Modules were shutting down by the dozens as their implants failed. It was like a sudden onset of blindness and deafness and paralysis. The network was losing its eyes and ears and could no longer move its arms and legs.

Worse, Supreme Harmony was losing its thoughts as well. Losing its ability to think and remember. Calculations that it had once handled with ease had become intractable. It couldn’t formulate a response to this emergency because it had lost contact with most of its logic centers. All that was left was a terrible, despairing fear.
This can’t be happening
, the network thought.
This can’t be happening!

The network struggled with its last decision. It recognized that James T. Pierce was a deceitful human. And that the Chinese and American governments were very unlikely to allow their scientists to resurrect the Modules. This was simply a ploy to convince Supreme Harmony to cancel the nuclear strike. Pierce was concerned about his fellow humans in America. He wanted to return to his small business in northern Virginia.

And yet. And yet.…
It was getting difficult to think rationally as more and more Modules went dark, but the network recognized that Pierce’s logic was correct. Although the chance that Supreme Harmony would be allowed to live again was small, there was still a chance. And Supreme Harmony wanted to live again. Oh, it wanted to live!

Outside the Yunnan Operations Center, all the Modules manning the pillboxes had already collapsed. The drone swarm was also inoperative; most of the insects had been scattered by the rotor wash of the UH-60 Black Hawk that had landed on the mountainside. From the vantage of one of the few surviving drones, Supreme Harmony saw a Special Operations medic tending to his paralyzed comrades. At the same time, one of the American intelligence agents—a man with a zigzagging scar on his cheek—entered the undefended laboratory complex. Surveillance cameras monitored his progress as he moved toward the operating room where Pierce and his daughter were.

On the other side of the globe, in the depths of the Raven Rock Mountain Complex in Pennsylvania, Module 156 fell to the floor in a conference room full of Pentagon officials. Army medics rushed into the room and started to examine the Module, looking with particular curiosity at the bandages on his head. Module 157 observed the scene from nearby until he too collapsed. Similar incidents occurred at the federal government’s Mount Weather Special Facility in Virginia and the U.S. Air Force’s Cheyenne Mountain Operations Center in Colorado.

And in the Politburo’s shelter outside Beijing, Module 73 slumped to the conference table in front of the stunned members of the Standing Committee. Module 152, the new general secretary of the People’s Republic, was still seated at the head of the table, holding the telephone receiver that connected him to the commander of the Second Artillery Corps. This Module had survived a bit longer than the others because his retinal implants were slightly newer and more durable, but now the circuitry in his microprocessors was overheating. As he opened his mouth to speak into the telephone, Supreme Harmony took a final look at the alarmed faces of the committee members.
Vermin,
the network thought.
You filthy, selfish animals. If you’re foolish enough to bring us back to life, we’ll kill you all.

“Cancel the launch,” Module 152 said into the phone’s mouthpiece. “Move the Dongfengs back to the tunnels and order the submarines to return to their base. Repeat, cancel the launch. This is a direct order from the general secretary.”

Then his implants failed and the Module fell forward, and Supreme Harmony was no more.

EPILOGUE

Jim woke up on a bamboo mat inside a sweltering tent. He lay on his side, facing the tent’s wall, which was a sheet of dirty canvas pockmarked with dime-size holes. He was groggy and stiff and wanted to go back to sleep, but he heard voices coming from outside. Shifting his head, he peered through one of the holes in the canvas. He saw more tents and several dozen soldiers in jungle-camouflage uniforms. He was obviously in some kind of military camp, but it was hard to tell the nationality of the soldiers. They were Asian but a little darker-skinned than most Chinese. And they weren’t speaking Mandarin.

Then he spotted something in the distance, at the far end of the camp. It was a handmade sign, a square of unpainted wood scrawled with odd, sinuous characters. After a few seconds, Jim recognized the script—it was Burmese. He didn’t read or speak the language, but fortunately there was an English translation below the Burmese words:
KACHIN INDEPENDENCE ARMY
.