Free Cyberdrome by Joseph Rhea, David Rhea Page B

believe
that’s why they installed the supervisor program,” she said. “Ceejer is the
most advanced program of its type in existence. Its primary job was to monitor
the evolution of all human-based programs inside Cyberdrome, but it also had
the ability to contain any potentially dangerous programs that might develop.”
    “If this
Ceejer’s such an advanced program, how do you know it has not become a THI itself?
It sure seems to be acting like one.”
    “Actually, I
asked someone that very question when this whole mess started. It seems there
are three potential routes to developing a THI.”
    “I know them,”
Alek interrupted. “Natural evolution of a program, a program operating inside a
human brain, and a human mind operating inside a digital brain.”
    “Obviously, the
latter two options are extremely dangerous. Therefore, we have been exploring
the first route: the natural evolution of Artificial Life programs inside
Cyberdrome.”
    “But evolution
is random; you never know what will happen, or when. How could you hope to
control what you created?”
    “Well, from what
they told me, all evolution inside Cyberdrome must occur through natural
selection, and within the realm of a 3D environment. In other words, programs
must mate and produce offspring, each of which will have traits from both
parents.”
    He thought about
that for a moment. “I guess it was smart to limit program evolution to procreation
within your simulations—that makes it easier to monitor changes,” he admitted.
“But how does that rule out your supervisor program?”
    “They never gave
Ceejer an Avatar, or body, if you will, so it can’t mate or produce offspring,
and therefore can never evolve into something dramatically better, like a THI.”
    Then a light
went on in Alek’s head. “And because you built your simulations using DNA-based
memory, even Ceejer can’t change the rules and give itself a body, can it?”
    She stared at
him a moment before answering, “That’s correct. Breaking any rule or any
physical law programmed into the system would result in a full-scale crash,
effectively killing every single program inside Cyberdrome, including Ceejer.”
    “So how are you
able to interface with your simulations if you can’t break any rules?”
    “Quite simple,”
she said. “All personnel inside Cyberdrome are required to obey all of the laws
of physics while interfaced.”
    “When you say,
‘all of the laws,’ what do you mean?”
    “I mean all of
them,” she repeated. “It’s why our people are required to live inside big
floating ships called ‘Survey Vessels,’ and fly aircraft back and forth to the
study areas scattered around each of the worlds, instead of just transporting
our Avatars back and forth. Contrary to what you may think of us, Mr. Grey, the
people who designed all of this are not idiots.”
    “So, you really
don’t think the hostages are part of some sort of THI trick?”
    “The attack on
our system was real and it came from the outside. It was your stolen Cyberphage
that started all of this, which means that someone—a human—is to blame.”
    Just then, an
alarm went off in the room and Leconte looked off to the side. Her face froze
in a look of disbelief. “I understand.” She glanced at Alek. “Please tell Dr. Benness
to proceed with what we discussed—tell her I’m implementing ‘Plan B’
immediately.” She then stood, walked behind Maya’s desk, and sat down in the
chair. Alek pivoted around to face her, realizing that bad news was coming.
    “What happened?”
    “Regardless of
the mistakes this company might have made in the past,” she began, “I think you
will agree that the only thing that matters now is getting our people back.”
    Somehow, he knew
that she wasn’t referring to the hostages. “You’re talking about the mission
team, aren’t you? What’s happened to them?”
    “I need you for
a special project, Alek, and I would like your verbal consent before