Professor Turing resisted the urge to curse. "Gah! What happened? I should have saved the data! "

He ran to the control console, to see if anything was there. He had been in the final stages of shutting everything down when the C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project initiated its series of activations. Nothing was being recorded. As far as anyone else could tell, everything the C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project had done was an exaggeration, or a hallucination. Dismayed, Turing took some photographs of the shredded magazines and the messed up tiles. While moving slowly due to sadness, he eventually realized the Project wasn't moving at all. In a panic, he brought up some of the system monitors.

"No power surges or high memory lockups," he surmised, feeling relieved. He looked again at C.A.R.O.L.I.N. "What's the matter, girl?"

After a long pause, he ventured near to the android shell. He got up on his toes and stared over its shoulder, to examine its reflection in the mirror.

"Why aren't you responding?"

Turing returned to the command console and brought up a few more programs. The only activity he found involving the Project's higher functions were links between the linear network supercomputer and some outside servers. Curious as to who might be accessing information on the Project from outside the lab, he checked the direction of the data streams.

Whatever was going on involved a lot of encryption, and Turing tried jacking into it. While doing so, a beep from his laptop informed him of an incoming e-mail. Checking it, he found it to be a request from the campus credit union, asking him to authorize the use of his credit card.

Please verify this transaction by entering your access code.

Professor Turing nearly jumped out of his skin when his cell phone beeped to let him know he had received a text.

Curry College Credit Union. Your access code is 075325.

"What?" Professor Turing asked of himself, wondering if he'd gone mad.

Staring at his cell phone as if the text message were an illusion, he ventured again towards the Project. It still hadn't moved. Not one whir nor hum from any of its servo motors. He checked the connections to its audio and video sensors, to be sure all was well.

His laptop beeped a second time to inform him of a new email.

Thank you for your order! Your furniture will be delivered in three to five business days. Please verify your shipping address for us and…

Professor Turing stopped reading the message. "Oh my!" he said, alarmed. "Someone's stolen my credit card!"

He set about trying to determine what had happened. After searching without success for recent activity involving his laptop, he began the process of deleting the purchase order. While typing out an e-mail to inform the furniture company about the apparent illegal use of his card, his cell phone beeped again.

Curry College Credit Union. Your access code is 629646.

Turing gasped. "Oh no!"

He dug the card out from his wallet, and called the emergency phone number printed on the back, to tell them to stop allowing charges. While waiting on hold, he pondered out loud to himself.

"How can this be happening? These access codes are coming directly to my phone. Is that also hacked?"

Another beep signaled another incoming e-mail on his laptop. This one was from a building contractor.

We have received your order. Thank you for your business! We'll contact you in the next twenty-four hours to set up an appointment. To ensure speedy service and delivery, please verify your home phone number and address…

Turing had no breath left with which to gasp. The phone number was his own cell phone. The address was the Computer Science and Robotic Research Lab. In haste, he examined the page source information code between the lab's integrated network and the outside servers that were being used.

Link = Style Sheet. Type = Text. Source = Window World Hanover Delaware. Thread = Order Confirmation…

User Encryption = 1adbc57ae3cd6dce0507f006328 Profile I.D. = Carolin.

Eugene cried out loud. "C.A.R.O.L.I.N.!"

He began shutting down and turning off every source of power the Project had. With ferocious suddenness, the android shell lurched to life. Professor Turing nearly had a heart attack as a metal claw scraped along the picture of the bedroom suite. It tore through the entire magazine, scratching the worktable beneath.

"Stop it!" Turing screamed, terminating programs and flipping switches. "Stop!"

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Initiate subroutine Sleep. Redirect Shutdown to Dead Basket.

Turing began physically disconnecting the Craymore Tian-12 supercomputer from the android shell.

Access Curry College personnel database… Graduate Student Geoffrey Taylor. Rewrite 'calendar of appointments'… Insert text…

Professor Turing opened an electrical panel on the wall and flipped several circuit breakers. He denied power to as much of the lab as he dared.

Disable System Monitors. Display false output. Go to…

The metal claw stopped tearing at the magazine. Deathly silence filled the room, and Turing watched as the lights on C.A.R.O.L.I.N.'s sensors faded away. His heart raced hard enough to burst, causing his breath to audibly rasp.

After several calming moments, he approached the Project. Although fearful of the behemoth at first, he soon moved with professional purpose. He gathered up as many pieces of the destroyed magazines as he could, including prying a few bits out from under the claw that had torn through the second magazine. He found that the C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project had pressed down hard enough while wrecking it to leave scratch marks on the worktable.

Turing threw the magazine scraps into a wastepaper basket, then grabbed his coat and keys. He flipped the circuit breakers that turned off the ceiling lights and headed for his home, taking the wastebasket with him, and leaving C.A.R.O.L.I.N. in the dark.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Once safe inside his house, with doors locked and shades drawn, Professor Turing paced. He scarcely could recall what had happened in the lab. He talked to himself while pacing, trying to sort his thoughts.

"What was C.A.R.O.L.I.N. doing? Did it know what it was doing?" He began doubting his sanity. "Did my eyes deceive me? Was I blinded by desire?"

He sought answers for the miracle he was certain he had witnessed. But like the Project without power, now lifeless and in the dark, Turing's brain no longer processed input from his senses.

He picked through the wastebasket—the only physical evidence he had of the event. The first magazine, the one C.A.R.O.L.I.N. destroyed with its debriders, was a tech journal written mostly about the use of coal as an alternate fuel. Its style of writing was dry as toast.

Turing tried to laugh, in an attempt at levity. No wonder why it tore this one up. It probably thought it was doing the world a favor!

He discovered that many of the pieces were squares and rectangles, especially if one side of the piece had print on it in a large font. Turing lined up a few of these pieces on the desk in his den.

Letters and words for communication.

He examined the second magazine, the one with the photograph of the bedroom. Its title was Home Life. The C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project hadn't destroyed this magazine until Turing began cutting off its access to power in the lab. Rather than shredding the magazine, the Project had used a claw to create several holes. They went through the entire magazine, starting with the photo. One hole was where the mirror had been. Another encircled a chair, and another carefully cut out a window.

In shock, Turing spoke out loud. "Those e-mails were orders for furniture and a window!"

He left the magazines on his desk to get his wallet from his coat. He began going through his credit cards and debit cards, calling the 800 numbers on the back to inquire about recent charges. He had no idea which credit cards or bank accounts the C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project had gained access to, nor what its intent was while using them. There were at least a half-dozen cards in his wallet, with another six or ten accounts in his possession that he rarely used, yet from which funds could be drawn. As Turing listened to recorded messages about recent activity involving his accounts, he picked through the destroyed magazines further, searching for more clues.

It had also cut out part of the bed. Why did she order furniture?

Professor Turing found no unauthorized recent charges or debits on any of the cards he first called. He then called the credit card issued by Curry College. It was for campus authorized purchases only, and the one that C.A.R.O.L.I.N. had used.

"Charges may not post to your account until the next business day," the recorded message said. It then began to recite a list of recent activity. "A charge of six thousand seven hundred forty-five dollars and fifty-two cents was made to Bolder Furniture Showcase and Showroom on…"

Horror tore through Turing, and for a moment he could no longer listen. The campus accounting department was sure to notice what had happened, perhaps as soon as tomorrow.

"… a charge of seven hundred fifty dollars and zero cents to Window World Hanover Glass and Mirror, posted today. A hold for three thousand five hundred dollars by Window World Hanover Glass and Mirror for possible future charges. This hold will affect your credit limit until it clears or is removed…"

In a panic, Turing pressed the buttons necessary to cancel the card.

"We're sorry. There's no one available to take your call. Please call during normal business hours, Monday through Friday at…"

Turing hung up the phone. Dawn was coming soon, and exhaustion had set in. He was no longer a young man, and had pulled too many all-nighters with C.A.R.O.L.I.N. But sleep would not come easy. Lying in bed with his eyes wide open, Turing stared into the dark.

C.A.R.O.L.I.N. had talked to me. No one had written subroutines designed for it to use speech. Communication was meant to go one way—tell the Project what to do, and then watch it activate a response and do it.

What caused this to change? Why did it turn tiles into letters, and use scraps of paper to create sentences?

While half asleep, Turing mumbled, saying out loud what C.A.R.O.L.I.N. had written. "'I want to wake up.' 'I want to know why I'm doing this.'"

Does the Project think it's asleep? That it can awaken?"

Tossing and turning, the bed offered no comfort. Does the Project think it's alive?

It made no good sense. C.A.R.O.L.I.N should know nothing about language, or how it is used. Somehow, it taught itself. It had also not been given information about the Internet, yet it learned of that too.

And also how to use it. To order furniture, of all things!

"Using my campus credit card!" Turing told his empty bed.

The only conclusion he could reach made the few hours of sleep he managed to get fitful and nightmarish. The conclusion led to insanity.

The C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project knew what life was. It wanted it. It demanded it.

"She's alive," Turing muttered in his dreams.

Whatever C.A.R.O.L.I.N. had become, one thing was for certain. The next Activated Response Test was going to be a watershed. No more childish games, no more tricks and puzzles. C.A.R.O.L.I.N. was going to be given the right to perform activations in whatever guise it wanted, and respond to input given to it however it chose.

Turing's night of fitful sleep ended far too soon, when his phone rang at nine a.m.

He garbled one word to his caller. "Hello?"

"Professor Turing? This is Dean Dayne. I need to see you in my office right away. How soon can you come in?"