Free Cyberdrome by Joseph Rhea, David Rhea Page A

slid open. “Security’s on
its way to take you back to the surface.”
    “T-H-I,” he said
tentatively. It was just a guess, but when her expression froze on the display
screen, he realized with a stomach-turning shock that he was right.
    “Stand by,” she
said and then flicked off the camera’s feed. The wall image changed back to a
holographic garden in full sunlight. Damn, he thought. Why did I have to say
that? Another important Plumber’s rule is that you don’t accuse people of
criminal acts while trapped inside their building. He glanced at the open door
and for a moment, considered making a run for it. Then he looked down at his
powerchair and frowned. Man in a wheelchair found dead in Nevada desert—news
at eleven.
    A few minutes
later, Leconte walked in through the open door. “Begin level-nine security protocol,”
she said. Her voice cracked slightly, which betrayed her outwardly calm
demeanor.
    “Beginning
level-nine protocol,” the room’s soft, but masculine digital voice replied.
    When the door
slid shut and locked itself behind her, Leconte finally addressed Alek. “Tell
me what you think you know about THI programs.”
    He realized that
he had no choice at this point but to go forward with his accusation.
“Trans-Human Intelligence,” he said calmly. “You’re trying to bring about a
technological singularity.”
    “My background’s
in psychology, not computer science,” she said as she sat down in Maya’s guest
chair, “so you’ll have to speak to me in simple English. What’s a technological
singularity?”
    “It’s a term
coined back at the turn of the century. It refers to an explosion of
technological advances similar in scope to the big bang. The singularity begins
the moment we create something that’s smarter than we are. It’s the point beyond
which humans are no longer the dominant species on Earth.”
    “You don’t
actually believe that, do you?” Leconte asked.
    “It’s not a
matter of belief,” he said. “It’s simple logic. Once we create a program that
greatly surpasses human intelligence, by definition, we lose control of it. We
would quickly become no better than a bunch of apes trying to control a human
being. Not only can we not predict what a THI would do, we can’t even conceive
it.”
    “I’m not an
expert, but I would guess that a greater-than-human intelligence would be able
to help us understand and control some of the new technologies we are developing.”
    “It also has the
potential to become our worst nightmare if it gets loose—a smarter-than-human
intelligence that takes over the world. It’s the realization of just about
every B-grade science fiction movie made in the last hundred years.”
    She sighed
again. “I think the people here fully realize the dangers in their pursuits,
and have taken appropriate steps to keep whatever they create from getting
loose. First and foremost, we confine all contact with ALife programs to within
their simulated worlds. We can come in, but they can’t come out. That’s where
the name ‘Cyberdrome’ comes from—it’s a digital arena where humans and programs
can interact directly.”
    “So, I was
right,” he said. “Your interface chambers were designed to lock people in interface.”
    “Not originally,”
she said. “That was one of your father’s many contributions to our efforts.”
    “So I was right.
It is his neuroprobes.”
    “Yes. While no
one here believes that a super-intelligent program could actually download itself
into a human brain, your father wanted to make sure we covered every
conceivable escape route.”
    “Once again,
you’re not getting it,” he said. “There’s no way to cover all of the exits out
of Cyberdrome. If you had managed to evolve a THI, it would have eventually
found an escape route that none of you could even conceive of. That’s why it’s
called a Trans-Human Intelligence—it would be far smarter than the smartest
human.”
    “Well, I