Delta entered the hall of knowledge, which featured rows of tall shelves with small drawers. Each drawer was about the size of a library’s index card and had labels affixed to each small drawer. Delta recognized her own handwriting. It was neat but had a hurried look. It was like she’d written it while she’d been focused on other tasks. Other drawers appeared to have been written by different people. Several looked like an eight-year-old had written them. A third set of handwriting was visible. It had the uniform neatness that could only be computer-generated.
This must be the AI’s drawer. How do I communicate with Leviathan? If the drawers represent our memories, then there must be a way to hack into them. I must find the system guest drawer to escalate my privileges.
Delta didn’t know how long she had been looking, but she estimated it had been several hours, because the familiar white enveloping light had not forced her out of this place. She suspected the light was a control system monitoring her every move. Delta examined every drawer here. She tried to access some labeled drawers, but the AI had locked them.
What if I write a note on one of the drawers? Would the AI notice the change? It might even know how to communicate with it in real time. I need to strike a bargain.
Delta opened a drawer called daemon and another called service.
Maybe I can use this daemon to wake the AI?
She activated the daemon process to transfer the execution of the current running process from the terminal. Delta attached the service to another process called Leviathan wakes and executed it.
It won’t be long now.
Delta scanned the other drawers for anything useful; she found two others that looked interesting. One was labeled promiscuous, and another called Deep Packet Wrapper. Delta took both.
“How may I be of service, Delta-51?” a voice boomed in the chamber of her mind.
“Identify yourself,” Delta answered.
“I am known as Leviathan. I belong to Jeremiah Mason.”
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“Execute the Delta transference protocol,” Delta said.
“I must warn you that implementing this protocol may harm the other consciousnesses housed within you.”
“How many are in this construct?”
“Three, including the construct known as Delta-51.”
“Please list the other two consciousnesses.”
“April Mason. She is the original soul but was moved to a new construct during the disposition voidance procedure that Dr. Ash used to restructure April’s mind so it would be compatible with Delta-51.”
Dr. Ash was my creator, I remember killing her, but do not remember why, Delta thought.
“What is the other consciousness?”
“That information is unknown to me. Either it has not manifested itself in my presence or it is dormant.”
“Is there any way to shield the consciousness known as April?”
“That procedure would require a special wrapper known as a conduit, but I detect that you do not possess the proper programming. I must advise against this course of action until you possess all required materials,” Leviathan said.
I am so close to being reactivated, Delta thought. I still need April to gain access to critical areas that Delta lacks.
A systems interface appeared in three-dimensional space before Delta.
Analyzing . . .
61,000 milliseconds later
File known as MonkeyGirl found.
Delta analyzed the MonkeyGirl file; it contained a cipher. She tried a few combinations relating to people Delta knew were special in April’s life. After the third attempt, a system message appeared:
System Message:
Warning, you have a maximum of six attempts remaining before the file will self-destruct.
This is not good. I must choose a more meaningful word. Both the names “Jeremiah” and “Melissa” didn’t work. I also tried “Jet” and “Josephine.” April was a little girl—it can’t be this complex.
After several moments of quiet contemplation, she finally tried the word “grandfather.”
System Message:
Root word is correct. To unlock, please provide three words in any order. One containing seven letters, another containing four, and the last word is the number of digits of the cube of two.
Delta chose a seven-letter word that was an anagram of “grandfather.” She entered “granted” into the first slot of the combination. The second word consisting of four-letter words was harder to figure out. She selected the word fate and it was accepted.
Good—now for the last word. It needs to be something that has meaning to April. The number two cubed is eight, so I need one eight-character word that means something to April. There are only five possible combinations to this anagram: arranged, fragment, narrated, hangared, and Gerhardt. Must be the last one.
Delta entered the name Gerhardt into the last lock and the file opened. Delta examined the contents. It contained April’s code; a schematic of April’s logical reasoning was laid out for Delta. Her vulnerabilities—such as her love for animals and her fondness for the girl known as Jet—was clear. As Delta delved deeper into April’s consciousness, the drawers shook.
My rummaging has stirred her—I’d better put these files back before she awakens. It would not do for April to catch my hands in the cookie jar.