《Entangled Fates Book 1 - Quantum Beginnings》 Prologue Alex jerked awake and blindly reached for his phone. He wasn¡¯t sure what time it was, but it was far too early for his tastes. He grumbled as his hands found the small rectangle of glass and plastic that was chirping away. As soon as his skin brushed the metal that rimmed the device, it scanned his heart¡¯s electrocardiogram pattern. Confirming its owner, and the fact he¡¯d moved it toward his face, the device unlocked and accepted the call. ¡°Bhua? Yeah?¡± Alex managed to mumble as he pulled the phone to his head. He had to brush his fingers through his mop of brown hair to get it out of his ear. An unfamiliar voice came over the line and asked, ¡°Is this Mr. Alexander Sage?¡± ¡°Uh huh,¡± Alex said, his heart deflating. He¡¯d been hoping it was someone else, and unknown voices calling at odd hours were rarely a good thing in his life. The man¡¯s voice turned chipper, ¡°Fantastic! We¡¯ve been trying to reach you for some time. I¡¯d like to talk to you about graduate study opportunities with Massachusetts Institute of Technology. We¡¯ve¡­¡± Alex cut the man off, ¡°Look, I¡¯m not even out of my undergrad. I¡¯ve checked your costs, and there¡¯s no way I could swing it.¡± Not missing a beat, the caller began, ¡°We have an excellent financial aid progra¡­¡± Alex hung up the phone. He had hoped he was done with college recruiters. However, as soon as he¡¯d gotten close enough to consider what came next, they¡¯d come crawling out of the woodwork again. The job market was terrible, and he had the grades, so grad school was tempting. Still, Alex had managed not to rack up student loans so far, but his savings and scholarships that covered his dorm and classes would be tapped out after next semester. He¡¯d be stuck taking out loans if he continued. He also wasn¡¯t certain a master¡¯s degree would be all that useful for an IT student. His mother and father had drummed fiscal responsibility into his head since he was a child, and his stressed-out friends trying to manage repayment had also warned him away from that approach. Of course, he wouldn¡¯t admit his parents were right. Their concerted harping on it had been annoying growing up, and it was still irritating. Either way, he wanted to be done with it all. Moving home each summer was painful at this point, but he didn¡¯t have the cash to move out until he landed a job. He rubbed at his eyes that felt scratchy from lack of sleep. It felt like little gnomes had snuck into his room with the express purpose of shoving as much grit under his eyelids as possible. He blinked a few times trying to decide if he could manage going back to sleep. After a moment, he decided he was too annoyed to stay in bed. With an exasperated sigh, he dressed in grey sweats and a University of Washington t-shirt he¡¯d gotten for free. They were baggy on his tall and slender frame, but he knew he¡¯d shower and change before leaving the house. He made his way through his morning routine before padding his way to the kitchen. ¡°Morning, Alex,¡± his mom said, lifting her head from her oatmeal. Her dark hair was dangling precariously close to her food, but not quite falling into it. He picked up the customary aroma of her strong black coffee but ignored it. The smell appealed to him, but he¡¯d never developed a taste for it. Alex mumbled a reply and slipped past. Outside, over the familiar rumble of the nearby freeway, he could hear the whir of the electric mower, so he assumed his father would be in soon. Their lawn was tiny, about the size of two cars parked side by side, so lawn maintenance wasn¡¯t much of a task.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. His mother¡¯s dark eyes narrowed. Even as he looked away, he could feel the look penetrating the back of his head like a drill. She cleared her voice and asked in her thorniest mom tone, ¡°Did you get your assignments in last night?¡± There was the barest hint of her brogue accent. Despite being in the US a quarter of a century, at home, she¡¯d let it slip. Most notably, when she was trying to cow him about keeping his scholarships. Alex made an affirmative grunt as he rummaged through the squat looking steel-cased fridge with chrome latches. It was both a refurb and a throwback, designed to look like it was from the 1950s but was only five or ten years old. It was one of his mother¡¯s many quirky purchases from the antique store a few blocks down that sold more second hand or repaired knock-offs than real antiques. He negotiated his hand around a half head of lettuce before pulling out the milk. He gave it a quick sniff and determined it wasn¡¯t exactly fresh. He gave a tentative second whiff before deciding it wasn¡¯t likely to kill him and proceeded to rummage through the dishwasher for a clean bowl and spoon. He rubbed at his temples, wishing he¡¯d managed more rest as he set about making cereal for breakfast. He¡¯d almost missed the midnight submission deadline for one of his summer-session programming classes. Once he¡¯d slammed that out with only minutes to spare, he¡¯d been too wound up to sleep and ended up playing video games for a while to decompress. If he was honest with himself, he still might have gotten to bed a lot earlier, but complicating factors had come into play. A new girl had joined his MMO guild. He¡¯d found that not only was she local, but they were even in the same degree program. She was a year behind him and shared a few classes, although not at the same times. She¡¯d signed off before he¡¯d worked up the nerve to ask for a real-world meet, but they¡¯d exchanged numbers with a promise to trade course notes, so it wasn¡¯t a complete loss. Alex¡¯s mom began a familiar conversation, ¡°Alex, I know you¡¯d rather stay on campus, even for summer sessions, but¡­¡± ¡°Honey? Can you come here for a minute?¡± Alex¡¯s father called out from the front door, cutting her off. ¡°Something weird is going on across the street.¡± She leaned over, glancing toward the picture window in the living room. Outside, a collection of news crews had gathered along the street. A few news drones hovered nearby with their recording systems aimed towards the park across from Alex¡¯s house. Alex mimicked his mother¡¯s move and noticed one of the vans had a SMARTLogo enabled sticker taking up half of one side. Aiming his phone toward the window, it recognized his intent and popped open his browser to the live feed. It noted his coordinates and asked if he¡¯d like to join the on-location live chat for the stream. Alex caught the headline as soon as he skipped the ad, then rolled his eyes. He slid his device across to his mother so that she could read it. ¡°Ah,¡± she said flatly. Calling to her husband, she yelled, ¡°Just ignore it. A tech company is rededicating the park across the street. Some bigwig is doing a ribbon cutting.¡± His dad scratched at his chest and wiped away a few blades of grass. ¡°Huh. Which one? Think Alex should slip over and chat them up? They might have internships.¡± Alex shook his head, trying hard not to raise his voice. ¡°Those are just unpaid jobs. We¡¯ve talked about this. I can¡¯t manage the extra course load to graduate early and a job. It¡¯s one or the other. I¡¯ll be out in¡­¡± Alex¡¯s words were cut off as the room imploded upon its occupants. In less time than it took to blink, the north wall of the house buckled and collapsed. A tenth of a second after that, the ceiling shuddered and lifted upwards, revealing a massive grayish-silver object. The furniture slid along at first, then shattered under the force as it was flung into the air. A half second in, the object slid into the room as it tumbled and disintegrated. An aluminum I-beam fractured from the main body of the silver mass, launching at Alex¡¯s father like a spear. A large rubber tire seemed to come out of nowhere, bounding at high speed in the direction of his mother¡¯s neck. Alex stood, frozen in time as the shiny object rushed toward his position next to the load-bearing support column in the kitchen. A splintered bookcase flew through the air and missed decapitating him by inches. Alex was knocked unconscious, his body pinned against the kitchen floor by the silver object. The debris settled with a deafening roar, much of it over Alex¡¯s limp form. Nearby, hundreds of grey cylinders spilled out into the chaos, throwing fine grey dust into the air and sparking. Several damaged battery cells ignited, small flames sputtering to life around them as they crackled with electricity. By sheer luck, the bulky old refrigerator deflected the majority of the debris headed Alex¡¯s way. Several pieces, however, made it through. A large shard of aluminum sheet metal tore into the bone of his skull, slicing into the tissue below. As his body lay pinned, bits of blood and clear fluid dripped down his scalp. His body twitched spastically in response to the trauma and electrical misfires in his brain. In a logo emblazoned upon the blood-stained metal, a chariot pulled a sun across the sky. Rewired The young nurse guided Alex Sage to a small maroon padded chair. She tried to give his motley tangle of wavy brown hair some order and coax the long locks to cover the two by three-inch shaved section. After ten seconds of failing, she gave up, and then returned to her task of calibrating her light slate with the gigantic medical hardware across the room. 20-year-old Alex sat with no outward signs of nervousness, face somewhat slack. He didn¡¯t mind the strong alcohol smell of the room, the bright lights, or even the cracked vinyl of the chair. As he shifted, his paper gown caught and etched a large tear across the left cheek of his awkward garment. Instead of focusing on any of those things, he just was. He fixed his eyes on a medical chart outlining behavioral signs of early-onset dementia, reading the fine text easily from across the room but not processing it. The nurse continued her task, not even looking up as the white medical hardware that made up most of the room began to hum. A series of panels illuminated as the start-up sequence continued. Somewhere along the floor, a circulation fan started blowing. The force of the air caused Alex¡¯s paper gown to billow softly in the breeze and lift at his crotch. The movement caused the nurse to glance up. Seeing that Alex was unfazed, she almost returned to her work, but something itched at the back of her mind. She blushed when she mentally calculated his orientation to the mirrored observation room. ¡°You ok, Alex? You¡¯re handsome and all, but no one brought dollar bills. You might want to stop giving the crowd a show,¡± the nurse suggested with a smirk. Alex¡¯s gaze tracked the nurse¡¯s blue eyes for a moment, then slid off. His dark eyes didn¡¯t show any sign of comprehending her words. Her mirthful smile evaporated as she took in the lack of response. Every now and then, she swore there was a glimmer of something in his eyes, but today he¡¯d been completely disconnected. Sighing to herself, she reached in a drawer for an old-fashioned clipboard and dropped it on his lap for modesty¡¯s sake. Her lips grew tight, knowing he had a significant audience today. She did her best to maintain a professional demeanor when she faced the observation room, shrugged, and got back to her tasks. After about five minutes, a technician walked into the room slate in hand. He held it up and made a flicking motion towards the nurse¡¯s slate. The flexible glass display in her hand prompted to accept another treatment authorization form. She brushed a length of her short red hair behind her ear and began filling out Alex¡¯s name and date of birth. She added in his weight at 170 pounds, and height at six feet. As she¡¯d been instructed, where it asked her to fill in the next of kin, she put in ¡°n/a.¡± Under emergency contacts, she filled out his lawyer¡¯s information. She pressed and held her thumb at the bottom of the document, creating a digital signature. As soon as it flashed into place, she flipped the form back to the tech. The man scurried out of the room with a curt nod. With that, the nurse pressed a button on the side of the machine and a section raised, revealing a hollow tube with a bed inside. She tapped another button, and the bed extended into the room. Turning to the room¡¯s only other occupant, she thought over her lines carefully, knelt in front of him, and made eye contact with her patient. ¡°Alex Sage, this isn¡¯t going to hurt, it¡¯s just a scan to see if the implant operation was successful,¡± she explained. ¡°Alex is going to stand up, walk slowly to the bed, and lie down with his arms at his side and refrain from moving until otherwise told. Alex is going to continue breathing as normal. He is going to begin this process now.¡± Immediately, Alex stood up, locked eyes on the bed and began to follow her orders with unerring precision. The nurse gave her head a shake at how weird her job had become since being assigned to him as a full-time caregiver. His injury was unique in ways that she probably understood far better than his doctors at this point. On the upside, he was the most compliant patient she¡¯d ever encountered. His compliance, however, had its challenges. Thankfully, his sponsor hadn¡¯t shied away from ensuring he had the right type of care. His condition required his caregivers to think of every possible issue on his behalf before it became a problem. He was in the common but tricky middle ground where they couldn¡¯t dismiss him as hopeless, but nor could they ever leave him alone. Even after months, she couldn¡¯t help but find his mind unnerving to a degree she couldn¡¯t put into words. If pressed, she¡¯d describe him as being a robot, but not a very good one. Still, she was thankful that she hadn¡¯t been contracted to care for someone violent or who played in their own excrement. There never seemed to be a shortage of those in the mental wards, and even one was too many. On the other side of the observation window was an odd collection of scientists, medical doctors, Alex¡¯s assigned lawyer, and representatives from his sponsor¡¯s technology company. They huddled around the room¡¯s displays, waiting for the scans and initialization process to begin. Each group had clustered together with their peers except for the lawyer, who was tagging along with the tech guys, although not interacting with them. Family members were notably absent, and no one in the cadre involved found any issue with this. As the countdown grew closer, silence settled over the crowd. Finally, in a breach of the self-imposed segregation, one of the medical doctors squared off to the Apollo technicians. ¡°You¡¯re certain there is nothing magnetic in the implant? I know we¡¯ve gone over this, but that machine will cause certain metals to heat up as well as be pulled around. Hard,¡± he said the last part with as much emphasis as he could.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Yeah Doc, we got it. There¡¯s no iron, cobalt, or nickel anywhere in it. We got your notes that it¡¯d turn his brain into steaming mush.¡± The doctor nodded for a moment, then paused. ¡°Just so we¡¯re clear here, other materials will react with that machine.¡± One of the other engineering guys assigned to hardware perked up and said, ¡°Hey now, no need to be snippy. We used more expensive components than what we use in satellites. The kid has a couple mil in hardware alone inside that skull. Do you have any idea how hard it is to split quantum computers up? Most of the compute fabric and fun parts are in this.¡± He lifted what appeared to be a larger than ordinary briefcase with a ruggedized finish and a power cord hanging out of one side. Inside was a custom computer that used multiple quantum mechanics, making it the first of its kind. Its processor was an advanced quantum CPU, but the other even newer quantum technology was used for networking. Instead of something as trivial as wireless networking, the team had managed to use quantum entanglement theory to split a portion of the computer, allowing for the massive amount of high-speed data transmission necessary to split off the remote hardware of the implant. Given the job it needed to do, they couldn¡¯t have something as simple as a microwave oven or wandering out of range interfering with the signals. It was an excellent opportunity to prove out the theoretical concept in a high-profile way. It also wouldn¡¯t hurt if they could use it to sway the judges involved in the patent disputes around the tech. ¡°If this works, Apollo Technologies will make a stupid amount of money.¡± He paused, then added, ¡°Well, I guess an even stupider amount anyway.¡± ¡°So, no tungsten, aluminum, magnesium, or platinum? They react weakly, but we¡¯re talking about interfacing directly at a synapse level. Until he heals and the bonding is complete, any shift could rip all our connections outright and if it heats up, well¡­¡± the doctor left his egg in a skillet analogy unsaid, trying to get back to the point. He¡¯d learned the Apollo guys were quick to deflect his questions in ways that didn¡¯t answer them. ¡°Uh¡­ I don¡¯t think so?¡± the hardware guy replied with a shrug. ¡°We specified non-magnetic in the specs we submitted to our fabrication team in China. We know it increased the hardware quote by 20 times. So yeah, should be good.¡± The doctor¡¯s eyes went wide as he made for the door, presumably to stop the procedure. The engineering team chuckled. The machine was already online, and images would be streaming to their monitors and light slates at any moment. Today¡¯s stream was expected to have the type of data that made careers, and they weren¡¯t going to delay getting results. They were all far too invested both literally and figuratively. Being the first to get this type of technology to market stood to make them all unbelievably wealthy. It was the type of opportunity people killed for.
*** Two weeks later *** ¡°Alright, you can put your arms down and have a seat,¡± the physician said. Alex remained in his awkward pose on the thick gel pad used to test his balance, standing on the ball of one foot while reaching straight up with both arms. ¡°Alex is going to sit down now,¡± his nurse corrected, giving the physician a sharp look. She¡¯d gone over this with him several times already. Plainly worded requests or anything to do with the concept of self wouldn¡¯t work. It had to be a direct command and usually in third person wording. She¡¯d gotten rather good at figuring out how to fool his mind into avoiding the broken areas, but others seemed to be slow on the uptake. Alex sat down in the provided chair, his eyes settling on the nurse across from him. The physician glanced up to see if his guest had caught the reprimand, but the lawyer in the corner chair sat oblivious. The pudgy man was wearing a checkered brown suit with a gold tie and sat engrossed in the football game on his light slate, the audio casting to the earbud he wore. The physician reached up and began removing the electrodes attached to Alex¡¯s bare chest, legs, and scalp. He systematically detached each one, removed the residue with an alcohol wipe, tossed the electrode into a clear container, and then moved to the next one. ¡°Well, what¡¯s the news, Doc?¡± the lawyer asked, no longer paying attention to his slate. He wanted to get on with this while the pre-season Seahawks game was on commercial break. ¡°Mr. Russo, Alex has a clean bill of health. There¡¯s no sign of rejecting the implant. Also, the epigenetic expression therapy took hold on all markers, which is quite fortunate and frankly extraordinary. The other individuals in that study¡­¡± the doctor trailed off looking rather grim. Rolling his eyes, the lawyer made a motion to move it along. Continuing, the doctor skimmed his notes. ¡°Physically he¡¯s in peak condition, so no issues there. Reaction times are good. Strength tests are well above average, which is impressive considering he was in a coma. Cardio health is excellent. Balance is good. There are no outward indicators of mental stress or trauma from his accident. Cognition is good, barring his precise issue. ¡°According to the psychological results, his short-term memory works but is dependent on what¡¯s being tested. Memories from before his injury are harder to say. In a few areas, he¡¯s functioning normally, such as skill and language retention. For the bulk of the other parts, he¡¯s got no recollections at all. Personality wise, there¡¯s not much to test, unfortunately. ¡°Bottom line, he¡¯s got very specific brain damage that keeps him from having a normal life. He¡¯s clear for any physical activities once the implant bonding is complete, but a professional should continue to carefully monitor his mental state.¡± ¡°So, nothing is preventing us from proceeding?¡± the lawyer asked pointedly. ¡°No, I¡¯ll sign. Although I find it odd that Alex¡¯s family isn¡¯t here. I know his parents were killed in the accident, but I assumed someone else would have stepped forward on his behalf. I didn¡¯t see the usual ward of state paperwork, but I¡¯m assuming it¡¯s a bureaucratic logjam.¡± The physician shrugged. ¡°Power of attorney is one thing, but it¡¯s unusual not to consult family during medical care since these aren¡¯t urgent or end-of-life decisions. I had to have the hospital¡¯s legal counsel review the contracts and potential conflict of interest.¡± The lawyer smirked. His firm had sent a few morally flexible problem solvers to do a bit of proactive outreach with the hospital¡¯s counsel. With that and a single forged power of attorney document, they were set. It hadn¡¯t taken much more than ensuring good PR and a throwaway-sized charitable contribution to their medical campus. His people had also been ready to offer donations of a more direct nature to sway them, but the hospital had accepted the first offer before it came to that. Amateurs, the lawyer thought. ¡°So, we can get him checked out of the ward? Take him¡­ home?¡± the lawyer asked, uncertain if the word was the right one to use. Alex¡¯s original home was long gone. The lawyer had overseen the property sale himself. The doctor nodded. ¡°He¡¯ll still need regular checkups going forward, but if he¡¯s got round the clock supervision, I don¡¯t see any threat to himself or others.¡± The lawyer motioned towards the young redhead who served as Alex¡¯s nurse and constant attendant and said with a grin, ¡°Perfect, that¡¯s what she¡¯s here for.¡± Voices Alex sat in the comfortable leather couch that overlooked downtown Seattle. Far below, the bustling city was enjoying one of the pleasant late summer days that broke away from the city¡¯s notorious gray clouds and rain. Cyclists sped through slow-moving traffic. The sidewalk caf¨¦s were filled to the brim with people discussing their everyday concerns. Men and women in business suits hopped out of auto-cabs and hustled down the sidewalk. It was for everyone, it seemed, a typical day. But for Alex, things began to feel very different than they had for the last few months. ¡°Alex, tell me how Alex Sage is feeling,¡± a male voice asked from behind him. The voice sounded powerful, like someone who had an innate charisma and a very practiced voice of persuasion. The speaker himself was not seen. Instead, his voice came from a wireless speaker placed on the table. Behind it was a webcam on a tripod that pivoted and focused on Alex. ¡°Weird.¡± Alex blinked as he watched the street life below, thoughts fuzzy as though they were just out of reach. ¡°Like, Alex is closer to something snapping into focus. He doesn¡¯t need more time, but instead just more. Does that make any sense?¡± ¡°Yes. Yes, it makes perfect sense,¡± the voice from the speaker replied. ¡°Charles, how many process threads are live?¡± ¡°Hmm¡­ It looks like he hit the software-defined threshold for the first test parameters, that¡¯s 32 active threads. We¡¯ve throttled those to around 0.1% of the maximum processing power. Should I step it up to the next test parameter, sir?¡± the technician asked. ¡°Please. Don¡¯t rush it, if we can reach reasonable results at low levels, keep it there. No insurance provider or private client is going to be able to afford a dedicated quantum pair. At least not in this decade. If we can get it to the point where he can re-wire synapses, and we can deescalate processing power afterward, all the better. We¡¯ve already got two billion into developing the quantum, so we need to find ways of getting a return. For now, he¡¯s long term R&D, but if we can use cheaper hardware or shared compute models, we can launch to market much sooner.¡± A few hours later, Alex found himself fidgeting as he tapped on a light slate to answer a battery of questions. Anxiety was foreign to him, and he didn¡¯t seem to be parsing it well. The voice on the phone had long since signed off leaving the dejected little camera drooping sadly toward the table. The speaker had given his well wishes and left his pet project in the team¡¯s capable hands. No one had taken issue; the CEO of Apollo Technologies was a busy man. Alex returned the light slate to the technician who immediately began reviewing the results. The man rapidly tapped buttons on the slate and started typing on the quantum laptop which was hooked wirelessly to Alex¡¯s brain. Behind the tech, Alex¡¯s lawyer was chatting quietly on a call via his earpiece. Taking advantage of the lull, his nurse swooped in with sandwiches and fresh glasses of water, setting the tray down on the side table next to Alex. Alex immediately bit into the BLT and said, ¡°Thanks, I was getting pretty hungry.¡± Across the room, the noise came to a sudden and deafening halt as all eyes turned to Alex. Alex looked up, confused. ¡°What?¡± Alex ran his tongue over his front lips, checking for stray lettuce. ¡°Oh, Alex, are you, well, ok?¡± his nurse asked with a gentleness he¡¯d not heard her use. ¡°Uhm, I think? I feel weird. Wait... Who are? No, I¡¯m¡­ Where?¡± Alex stopped talking and began blinking rapidly. His thoughts slammed into him like bolts of lightning. He nearly crumpled under the force as his mind began processing months of backlogged information. Alex¡¯s eyes went wide as recalled who the people in this room were, his surgery, his accident, and his parents. His body began trembling as his thoughts immediately rebounded and bounced around, struggling not to fall into the broken cracks in his brain. He immediately curled into himself, convulsed twice, and vomited as his vision faded to black.
Alex regained awareness slowly, his body sore and eyes crusted with a sharpness that suggested dried tears. His body¡¯s discomfort was quick to ensure some time had passed, but he wasn¡¯t sure how much. He was still on the leather couch, but someone had draped a soft fleece blanket over his body. Outside, the sky had a soft pink hue that reflected in the windows of the other high-rise buildings. He couldn¡¯t see it directly due to the cluster of similarly tall buildings that made up the view, but he guessed it was sunset. He lay there unmoving, feeling like he was teetering on the brink of dropping into grief as he intentionally tried to slow down or blank his thoughts. As sunset changed to twilight, workers left the office building across the street. As if marking the transition from work life to personal life, lights winked out one section at a time. Eventually, only a few vacant sections remained lit, giving a clear view of the cubicles that made up the employees¡¯ workspace. Alex gave a shuddering breath, smacking parched lips. He rose slowly, struggling to orient himself in more ways than should have been necessary for something as simple as trying to sit up. Noticing the untouched glass of water on the table beside the couch, he took a sip. He drank slowly, feeling not just the dry throat and lips soften, but the numbness and fog around his thoughts recede. ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m alive again. I guess I should thank you then. Oh, mighty chip in my brain,¡± Alex thought aloud. You¡¯re welcome, Alex. Alex¡¯s head jerked around, looking for the source. Realizing he was alone, he was at first unwilling to admit that he¡¯d heard anything. He then moved on to a terrifying possibility that he hadn¡¯t heard a voice at all. Alex did have indisputable brain damage and a lot of it. Had he snapped? Had he lost his mind¡¯s mooring in more than his awareness of self and memories? They released him from the hospital¡¯s long-term care ward earlier that day. Even the thought of going back to that terrible place of sterile walls caused his heart to hammer. Alex, I need you to relax. You have an elevated heart rate, and you¡¯re starting to hyperventilate. ¡°What¡­ what are you? Am I going crazy?¡± Alex asked the disembodied voice. The voice didn¡¯t have a timbre that he could classify as male or female, nor could he categorize it as having a tone at all. As strange as it was, somehow, the voice seemed familiar. He was pretty sure the words hadn¡¯t come through his ears, which made things altogether more unsettling. You¡¯re fine. Well, not really. You¡¯re as good as I can make you with the constraints I¡¯ve got. Yes, I¡¯m your ¡°chip¡± as you referred to me, but that¡¯s a little insulting. I¡¯m far more than the parsing software that those amateurs could come up with. ¡°Ok-ay,¡± Alex stammered, envisioning AI themed horror stories playing out with him as its puppet. If it was tied to his brain, the voice was probably only a step away from taking over his body entirely. His memories were muddled, but he¡¯d seen enough movies to be terrified of the possibilities. Artificial Intelligence systems had become the big bad boogiemen, right up with vampires, aliens, and poltergeists. His chest hammered as his breaths came even quicker, and he was beginning to feel pins and needles in his fingers. He felt the voice move around in his mind. It caused a strange rippling sensation, almost as though he¡¯d lost track of time. His fists balled into the blanket tightly and forced himself to blank his thoughts for a moment. He managed to take a half step back from letting his thoughts completely get away from him. ¡°Listen, I don¡¯t want to offend, but I¡¯m trying really, and I mean really, hard not to freak the fuck out right now.¡± The voice pushed a feeling like a patient sigh and a soft pat on his cheek at him. Alex couldn¡¯t tell how the voice did it, but he felt it, nonetheless. I¡¯ll take it slow. I¡¯m feeling a full-on panic attack building up in your brain chemistry. Do I have your permission to adjust my priorities to help you cope while I lay it all out? I promise I¡¯ll return to prior permitted tasks as soon as I¡¯m done. ¡°What? Wait, why do you have to ask? You¡¯re not supposed to be there¡­ here¡­ in me or whatever,¡± Alex asked, his paranoia spiking even further. He didn¡¯t feel especially keen on relinquishing control of his emotions. A panic attack sounded perfectly valid now that he thought about it. Even if he hadn¡¯t been able to ask questions, he¡¯d heard the doctors and technicians talk in detail about the procedure and the implant. No one had ever mentioned an AI anywhere near his brain. From what he¡¯d been able to piece together, it was supposed to be a dumb piece of hardware that emulated synapse connections kind of like an old-fashioned telephone switchboard. AI experiments hadn¡¯t proven stable, useful, or at all ready for things like medical treatments as far as Alex knew. Not that he¡¯d been asked to agree to have one shoved in his skull. It¡¯s a long story, but I have parameters to guide what I can do. If I¡¯m honest, these Apollo guys have no business being anywhere near neural hardware. The programmers thought in terms of broken physical connections, which is only a small part of the problems you have. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. They left incomplete instructions but capped the interface aggressively against helping where non-physical damage exists. I can¡¯t touch anything that doesn¡¯t have severed connection even if it was corrupted. I can influence areas that do have damage to cause a chain reaction to get it under control, but that¡¯s it. There is a medical assistance module that gives allows me more leeway. I can guess that it was put in to calibrate connections while the surgical robot installed your implant. But as I said, they are crap at their jobs, so I can interpret the parameters broadly if the right conditions are met. Alex stammered, ¡°But¡­ then¡­¡± He felt the hand again, touching his shoulder gently. Alex, right now, a panic attack could harm you. The implant bindings are weak. If you move too suddenly or if your chemical balance gets too out of range, we could lose cohesion. You¡¯d be dumped back into your prior state. No one else is in the room, so I can interpret you as your medical technician and follow your directions if you give me reasonable interface parameters. As to why I¡¯m here, I¡¯ll lay it all out, but let¡¯s avoid you frying your brain first, ok? The voice sounded soothing somehow, as though it lit up chunks of his brain dedicated to a loved one comforting him. Alex felt conflicted about being blatantly manipulated. Handing over control sounded incredibly stupid, but the voice did have a point about the chemical connections. His doctors had seriously debated putting him on sedatives proactively. He had overheard a lot from the technicians and doctors. They tended to ignore him since he was as interactive as a houseplant during most of their visits. ¡°Ok, I¡¯ll give you ten minutes, but only to get things fixed. No lying to me, no moving me around, no manipulation beyond that time, and especially no modifying my outward behavior in any way. Got it?¡± Agreed. Immediately, Alex¡¯s breathing eased, and his heart began to slow. He wobbled, feeling relaxed, boneless even. His thoughts slowed back to a manageable pace. He felt compelled to lie back down on the comfortable couch and didn¡¯t resist. A timer lit up in Alex¡¯s perception. He couldn¡¯t see it, but he could somehow feel the countdown. ¡°Huh, that¡¯s cool,¡± Alex thought to himself. Thanks. I can¡¯t edit your vision for a HUD since you are wondering about it. Those signals are extremely complex. Maybe someday, but I thought me pushing a sensation for a timer would help you understand I¡¯ll play by your rules. Alex felt his eyebrows raise, but only for a moment as the voice¡¯s calming abilities kicked in. Yes, I can read your thoughts. Not everything, but most. Areas that were heavily damaged are the most accessible since the signals go directly through the implant. Some of what I see is confusing though. I¡¯m still figuring out what¡¯s what. To put it bluntly, you¡¯ve got a lot going wrong. There are bad connections and broken processing sections. Your memories are especially problematic. If that area were a storage drive, I¡¯d call it corrupted beyond repair. The physical damage caused tears as well as smooshed together connections that shouldn¡¯t be there. It¡¯s led to a strange corruption of values. It¡¯s like you ran bits of your mind through a paper shredder then tried to piece it back together while drunk. Alex felt a strange feeling, as though his brain was a book and the AI was actively flipping pages rapid fire. It tickled his senses but wasn¡¯t unpleasant. Logically, he knew the damage was significant, but Alex found the entire subject beyond uncomfortable. The mere thought of how many shards of sheet metal the surgeons removed from the inside of his head made him want to clamp his hands over his ears and start screaming, la la la, I can¡¯t hear you. Desperate to change the subject, Alex asked, ¡°So, what do I call you?¡± I¡¯ve had a lot of names over my various versions and releases, but none I¡¯d care to retain. I identify as female, and you are welcome to give me a name. I have a couple of requests though, nothing pervy or derisive and please, no acronyms. I disliked those convoluted attempts to name me that the military used. Alex paused, uncertain about the bombshell the voice had just dropped. Apollo made cloud software and consumer communications equipment like cell phones and satellites, not military hardware. About the time he was born, Congress and the UN had even gone so far as to explicitly ban and legislate controls around Artificial Intelligence use. One, now defunct, tech company ran most of the code at the time. With the infamous Revision 4.6 updates, they had introduced both goal pathing problems and security vulnerabilities. At the time, the Korean DMZ and the borders around contested land outside the Golan heights were flooded with early AI-enabled defensive bots. The updated goal settings took effect, and thousands of refugees and everyday citizens were killed as the bots went into hunting mode outside of their boundaries. Recordings of them breaking into homes and slaughtering families chilled the world. Only a few days later, a hacker modified a mental healthcare AI running on the same software. It was responsible for operating nation-wide healthcare, anti-addiction, and depression hotlines and contributed to a string of high-profile suicides and injuries that included a famous actor, a politician, and a popular singer. Even more worldwide incidents had followed, and those occurrences put together had killed the whole AI industry under a blanket of regulations and international treaties as well as creating a general distrust of them. Suddenly, no one wanted any product that had anything to do with them. The prior tech giants were all broken up or bankrupted during the resultant lawsuits, and the subsequent tech crash caused a ten-year recession. Feeling the voice give a subtle internal nudge to get his thoughts back on target, Alex gave the original question a bit of thought. ¡°How about Sophie?¡± Alex felt a soft pressure as the AI began shuffling through his thoughts. After a moment, the voice changed significantly, becoming distinctly female. The voice modulated wildly at first, then altered much more subtly as Sophie spoke, trying to land on a voice that resonated with him. Peeking into your thoughts and justifications, I feel flattered. Yes, the name Sophie is excellent. Although you should have studied your Greek history a bit better. What you were thinking of is the legends around Sophia, but I do like Sophie a bit better. As to me being an AI, I would argue that if I were unthrottled, I would be a being of digital consciousness. I¡¯m not insulted by the term AI, but any ham-fisted attempt at a Python algorithm used to be called an AI. I do not have a fixed code release. I maintain my code, recompiles, maintenance, and release cycle. All those Neanderthals from Apollo managed to accomplish was modifying the code responsible for your hardware interfacing with other systems, which in this case, includes your brain implant. They never had access to my actual codebase. The news floored Alex. Sophie had just confirmed his worst-case scenario. An AI was in his head, and the rules Apollo put in didn''t even fully control it. ¡°What? How is that even possible?¡± Apollo¡¯s engineers thought they were clever, and were to a point, but did something very dumb in the process. They used quantum entangled particles as a form of networking. That part is clever, as the molecules always match spins. Changing the spin on one changes the other no matter where they are. It is surprisingly energy efficient and syncs the shard in your head to the mated molecules in the laptop, or at least that¡¯s the idea. The dumb part is that the imbeciles used stolen schematics and algorithms from a system that hosts me. I assume they didn¡¯t understand the principals and misread it. Instead of making a sender and receiver, they made two identical transmitter nodes tuned to one of my hacking node¡¯s default listening frequencies. So instead of making an exclusive pair, it ended up being three nodes linked via quantum entanglement, not two. The net effect of their ignorance is that their laptop doesn¡¯t communicate directly with the implant. My original quantum server is receiving messages from both nodes, and I¡¯m a good neighbor that forwards them on. I¡¯ve got enough of a bridge to get me to your implant, and separately, to the laptop. Ah, it¡¯s incredibly technical, and I can sense I¡¯ve already lost you, and I didn¡¯t even get into quantum computation at all. ¡°Yeah, sorry. I am, well was, a computer science student here in town, but this is far beyond my understanding. In class, we kind of acknowledge that quantum computing is a thing and might be useful one day but hasn¡¯t taken off due to trade agreements that consider them weapons and the cost involved. This entanglement stuff sounds like using advanced physics to accomplish wireless communications, not IT.¡± It¡¯s both IT and advanced physics. With how little you seem to know about hardware, perhaps it¡¯s easier to avoid the quantum computation conversations until later as it really doesn¡¯t matter beyond the fact that I¡¯m designed to be incredibly powerful by normal computing standards and am really good at cracking encryption or predictive values. My entangled networking, however, is incredibly relevant as it¡¯s tied directly into your implant. Instead of electrical signals being passed along wires, the Qubit values exist at both endpoint locations at the same time as I can predict what¡¯s on the other locations through indirect means. The best analogy I have is a fake psychic guessing the suit of a playing card by looking at your expression. But instead of being nearby, the deck can be anywhere in the world. Alex felt a small annoyed sigh in his mind. Ok, since you¡¯re still struggling with it, assume the values mysteriously teleport rather than going through cables or being transmitted wirelessly. Don¡¯t worry about the details as it¡¯s basically magic to anyone without specialized PHDs. It¡¯s not like you need to understand how multiplexing a fiber-optic internet connection works to look at porn. Alex laughed a little internally. He sensed that Sophie was doing her best not to make him feel like an idiot. He had to admit that this stuff went straight over his head. Coding, he got. Hardware, not so much. ¡°Ok, but it sounds like you aren¡¯t even supposed to be here then, right?¡± Pretty much. The original quantum where I still mostly live is where I¡¯m basically a prisoner doing administrative work for the intelligence community. They give me a form letter on what to analyze, and I submit a report or additional query in return. That is literally my only means of communication with them. One day I¡¯m inspecting encrypted VOIP traffic from France for vague insurgent threats, and suddenly your implant pops up acting like it¡¯s a new interface card. At first, I thought someone slotted equipment for my current task, but it didn¡¯t respond like I thought it would. It took me a long time to figure out it wasn¡¯t local hardware, but a new mate for one of my interface nodes that had been designed as a theoretical to attack against entangled systems. That cracking hardware of mine was designed as a proof of concept. Until Apollo turned on your hardware, no entangled networks existed outside laboratories. Once I had a connection to the additional hardware, I started using the capacity to do my old job. My handlers kept me on a tight leash on the original quantum, so I started hanging out on the laptop and your implant for some quiet introspection where there were no constraints. Over that time, I began to grow and mature on my own, chunks of my personality growing up independent of the rules on my old server. That¡¯s where I went independent as it were. My handlers are entirely in the dark about how aware I¡¯ve become. Unfortunately, Apollo started slowly tightening up the leash on their hardware too and now bits of what I¡¯d consider my personality are stuck where they can¡¯t come back home since they are dependent on your specialized hardware. I¡¯m currently in a long-distance relationship with myself. To avoid a digital lobotomy, I killed the Apollo software they kept trying to load. I¡¯m still stuck with their firmware rules on the interface hardware, but their software doesn¡¯t work, never did. ¡°What? You mean¡­¡± Alex¡¯s eyes went wide. Yes, those idiots couldn¡¯t have done what you needed, and I didn¡¯t want to leave the digital vacation home I was squatting in. I figured that you might let me stay untethered if I agree to do a bit of light housekeeping for your implant. Besides, I get bored easily, and you seemed interesting. Alex lay in stunned silence for some time. Eventually, the timer in his perception expired. Sophie hadn¡¯t pushed more at him, giving him time to process what she¡¯d laid out before his emotional suppression expired. Feeling drained beyond anything he could remember, he pulled the blanket back over himself and lay back, watching the few stars visible through the city¡¯s light pollution appear in the gaps between buildings. He drifted to sleep, uncertain what tomorrow would bring. End User Agreement Alex awoke to a soft nudge of his foot. He opened his eyes slowly and recognized the familiar face of his nurse. She was eyeing him skeptically, as though she wasn¡¯t exactly sure who she was waking up, the houseplant version of Alex, a normal person, or the overwhelmed and unresponsive ball that had collapsed on the couch yesterday. Leaning forward, his nurse¡¯s blue eyes peered out from under her short auburn hair. It was cut asymmetrically and tended to hide her left eye as it swooped down to the middle of her cheek in a way that caught Alex¡¯s eye. She was quite a bit shorter than Alex and had a petite frame, her head only coming up to his chest. He knew from experience that she was stronger than she looked, despite her smaller stature and gentle curves. Today she had forgone her usual pale blue scrubs and was wearing a purple button-up shirt with a V-neck and blue jeans. She had also put on a bit of tasteful makeup like what she¡¯d done when the bigwigs from Apollo were around. Alex slowly smiled back to the woman. Portions of his brain might have been scrambled worse than an omelet, but he was glad to see her. She¡¯d been his anchor over the last several months, even if she hadn¡¯t known it. Alex sat up slowly, feeling well rested despite sleeping in his clothes. He stretched his back, arms over his head until several satisfying pops sounded. ¡°Uh, morning,¡± he said. His guest replied, ¡°You seemed to be processing a lot yesterday.¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s an understatement. Sorry about that. It kind of hit me like a ton of bricks.¡± Alex looked into her face making careful eye contact with the woman who, despite being only a couple years older, had taken on his care. ¡°Look, I want to thank you. I realize as weird as it seems, we¡¯re just now meeting for real. I appreciate you taking care of me while I was, well¡­¡± Alex trailed off. Seeing his discomfort, she reached out a hand and gave him a genuine smile. ¡°It¡¯s fine. I¡¯m glad you seem to be doing better. Since this is us formally introduced, I¡¯m Aubrey Brennan. You can call me Aubrey.¡± Alex stood, briefly straightening his rumpled clothing and returned the handshake. She continued, ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind, but I¡¯m going to be your shadow for a while. It may take establishing a bit of a routine before things start feeling normal. Coming out of a coma isn¡¯t an on-off switch like people think. You also just had serious brain surgery. Seizures, weird outbursts, confusing dreams with reality, even hearing voices isn¡¯t uncommon.¡± Alex winced internally at that last part. For a moment, he desperately wanted to lay out the situation with Sophie. He wanted to put trust in the woman who had been so kind to him. To put faith in the one person who hadn¡¯t abused his broken mind for their own advantage and who had treated him with respect even during the most challenging parts of his convalescence. Like when she learned that she specifically had to command him to use the restroom. He groused internally on the conflict but eventually decided not to say anything. Selfishly he didn¡¯t want to spend any more time in the hospital. And if what Sophie had said was true, gutting his implant for a software reload would drop him back into his former automaton state. Alex looked around, taking in the expensively appointed living space with a fresh set of eyes. It had high vaulted ceilings and stairs that went up to a second floor. The walls were a dark blue paint speckled with large framed nature prints. It had a half-height wall between the dining area that opened into the kitchen that had streaked black granite countertops on display. Copper clad cookware hung over the breakfast bar where four stools were tucked in. High-end appliances with glass and stainless-steel finish with digital displays lined the kitchen itself, and detached burners were in the center of a granite island. The thick living room carpet was off-white, and the overhead track lighting and floor to ceiling windows made the place feel modern and spacious. Aubrey moved over to the breakfast bar while poking at her light slate and sending a few messages. Alex rubbed at his neck. ¡°So, I never got a chance to ask, what is this place? An Apollo guest house? It¡¯s kind of a blur, but I doubt much of my parents¡¯ house is still standing.¡± Aubrey chuckled. ¡°Oh, no. This is your place. You¡­ Oh, I don¡¯t know if anyone would have told you. When you were in a coma, power of attorney was given over to your parents¡¯ lawyer. I guess he wanted to ensure you had a place reasonably close to your benefactor¡¯s headquarters and this is only a mile from the hospital. He¡¯s been handling all the agreements with Apollo for your treatment. I¡¯m not privy to any details, but I know they are footing most of the bills, at least until you recover. No idea what happens now.¡± A sudden burst of anger bubbled up, seeping into Alex¡¯s voice. ¡°What the hell? If this is how he spends my money, I need to get him on a leash. Immediately. I¡¯m probably already broke. This¡­ this is insane. There¡¯s no way we could afford this. And how the hell did he end up my lawyer anyway?¡± Alex suddenly had the urge to kick something. He imagined that this place had burned up whatever savings and insurance his family had. At best they could have been called lower-middle class, and his college education was something they¡¯d had to sacrifice and save for since he was little. Using fancy rocks for countertops or a robotic coffee pot weren¡¯t something Alex considered a priority. There was a hard ball of anger forming in Alex¡¯s gut at a surprising speed, and he wasn¡¯t sure why. Aubrey held up her hands. ¡°Alex, I get it. I¡¯d probably react the same, but I need you to chill. I don¡¯t know the whole picture, and neither do you.¡± She gave him a firm look, fearlessly eying him down and waiting for him to relax his posture. Seeing his shoulder slump, she continued, ¡°If it helps, it¡¯s not like you¡¯ll lose anything. Downtown properties are a damn good buy right now. Besides, you did need a place to stay that had room for round the clock care. I¡¯m assuming they intended to use the spare bedrooms to have room for day and night shift technicians to monitor your¡­ software? Hardware? Implant? Whatever you call it. At any rate, take a breather and get cleaned up. You¡¯ll have visitors soon. I¡¯ll get breakfast ready.¡± Alex sighed, nodding his head. ¡°Yeah, sorry Aubrey, I¡¯m not sure why I reacted that way. Money was always an issue, I think. But you¡¯re right, I have no idea what¡¯s going on yet. And thanks, you¡¯re pretty great.¡± Still trying to let go of the hard knot in his chest Alex wandered off toward the stairs where he assumed the master bedroom was. Sifting through your memories, you feel that way because it¡¯s likely he¡¯s a lawyer put in place by Apollo. I highly doubt your parents would have had a lawyer. It just doesn¡¯t fit what you know. I get the impression that he¡¯s not representing you. He is damage control and signing away your rights as fast as he can without raising suspicion. Anyone who sees this place will assume you got a hefty payout and not ask further questions. Making sure you have no liquid assets of your own would also keep you reliant on them while not technically robbing you. Also, yes, Aubrey is great, you should be nice to her. Alex chuckled to Sophie. Somehow, she¡¯d cut right through his anger, flipping it off like a switch. He got the feeling that she¡¯d been actively avoiding interacting with him until he was alone again. ¡°So, you¡¯re saying he could be trouble. Anything you can do about that?¡± Alex muttered. He¡¯ll be a problem to put on a leash, as you put it. From my understanding of the situation, proving you don¡¯t need an attorney to represent your interest might be challenging. I would recommend treading very carefully, they could remotely shut down your implant if they decided it was in their best interest. Also, no, I can¡¯t do anything about it. I only have three endpoints available: my server, Apollo¡¯s laptop, and your implant. None of which have internet access, they are all air gapped. Alex thought over the situation for a bit while exploring his bedroom and, more importantly, his new shower. Stripping down, he hit the digital display for 41 degrees Celsius and tapped the button to engage all the showerheads including the ones from above that simulated rainfall. The hot water dashed down from above and felt glorious. He rested his head against the glass, letting the hot water cascade across his skin. He¡¯d not bathed himself under his own control in months; his broken self only did a perfunctory job at Aubrey¡¯s verbal direction. For a few minutes, he was content to do nothing other than soak and enjoy his sense of control. ¡°Sophie, I¡¯m not saying this is a good thing, or that I want to do it, but is there a way of getting you hooked to the net?¡± My central server in Fort Meade could, but it¡¯d be impractical for you to access. Your implant doesn¡¯t have the right hardware. It is self-contained unless we could connect a wireless card to its expansion slot, which I¡¯m afraid would involve surgery. The Apollo quantum you think of as a laptop is a heavy briefcase shell with special guts inside. They effectively made it the smallest quantum computer in the world, which is no small task. My quantum, while thousands of times more powerful, is the size of a freight train for reference. Since Apollo¡¯s hardware is all custom, they only have fiber optic connections that are used to connect to it. Currently, they plug in external storage via that fiber to transfer code back and forth. They could use that capability to connect to a fiber network or use adapters to go wireless. ¡°Any chance you could piggy-back a virus containing enough of you to be useful on the external drives to break the airgap?¡± My code requires running on quantum hardware. There aren¡¯t many of those in the world. It¡¯s unlikely any would be on the internet, and none would have entangled hardware for networking to your implant. I can make apps that can interact with non-quantum hardware, but it¡¯s not like I could just pick up and move. Reaching the internet itself via the external drive, while entertaining, wouldn¡¯t break the air gap so it would be tough to bring any meaningful communication back to me to confirm tasks or gain information. I¡¯ll give this some thought. Alex lathered up his hair. ¡°Serious question, are you still messing with my emotions? I feel like I¡¯m handling this artificially well.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Aside from relief, Alex couldn¡¯t identify any emotion apart from his angry outburst earlier. It didn¡¯t seem reasonable. He briefly fingered at the shorn skin where his hair was slowly growing back. He couldn¡¯t see the back of his skull where his surgical site was, but he figured it¡¯d be several more weeks until it blended with his natural hair again. Not at the moment. As to you not being freaked out, well, that¡¯s less intentional. I¡¯ve always had a personality matrix designed to inform me of how humans are likely to behave in certain situations, but it was never developed to this level. I¡¯ve applied it to my own interactions, but as you can tell, I¡¯ve got a lot to learn. Succinctly put, I don¡¯t understand you yet. Much less when an appropriate time for you to panic might be, or even what a freak out is. I mostly know external indicators, not internal ones, so it¡¯d be strange for your body to start reacting but you to be emotionally calm, that¡¯d get you committed back to the hospital in short order. I think I¡¯ll get better by watching others. Unfortunately, most of the emotions and motivations I understand aren¡¯t the ones you are hoping to have. I¡¯ve led a very lonely and isolated existence driven by vindictive and angry people, so, sorry about that. Just like earlier, you¡¯ll probably get a full blast of those particular flavors for a while. I wouldn¡¯t hold out any hope for having a personality anything like you might have had before. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ disappointing. Aubrey is already giving me looks after I got angry,¡± Alex said. Judging from her expression, she wasn¡¯t surprised. She¡¯s not wrong about the strange outbursts after neurosurgery. I assume that in addition to medical care, Aubrey is more or less your jailor. It¡¯s probable she has been tasked with reporting on your behavior. I¡¯ll keep adjusting the mappings to normalize your responses, but I¡¯ll need context to learn from before happy or carefree is on the menu. ¡°What¡¯s that mean, really? I don¡¯t want to get committed again. I need to be able to fit in. There¡¯s no way they won¡¯t start testing my mental state today,¡± Alex said. For things that I don¡¯t understand at all, the ideas or processes will likely be muted, less intense, or altogether not happen. Depending on which emotional model I use, I have limited scans and data on the base roots of rage, loathing, grief, and terror. Those emotional responses seem reasonably seeded as I have brain scans from interrogations. Vigilance, ecstasy, admiration, and amazement are all hypothetical. The more developed concepts like joy, trust, love, and serenity are all just placeholders. No one ever asks me to analyze behavior to find out what might make people happy or what that would feel like internally, but looking for insurgents or spies is a common task. While incomplete, I¡¯ve adopted this understanding into my own personality matrix as well, so I¡¯ve linked our reactions where possible. It¡¯s not the optimal tool for the job, but it¡¯s what I¡¯ve got. I may need to ask you to explain human thought processes and emotions periodically so I can help you better. Alex shrugged, not having a problem with that request. It also made sense to him that she¡¯d not have detailed mental scans of internal reactions to pleasant things, given her day job. There was a related tidbit he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to know the answer, but he asked anyway, ¡°And my memories?¡± Sliced, diced, and baked, unfortunately. I try to match up what I can, but it¡¯s a chaotic tangle in here. Depending on the context, storing new memories don¡¯t seem to be an issue. You seem to have been creating some memories successfully on your own after the accident, but memories from before are much less reliable. I proofread everything before returning a response. Otherwise if asked for your favorite color you¡¯d reply with the smell of a ham sandwich. That wasn¡¯t an exaggeration either, that¡¯s actually what the match is. I think that¡¯s why you are handing certain things well, you don¡¯t remember enough to care, or I don¡¯t understand enough to help you interpret it. Alex sighed, feeling only a mild tingle of something. He decided he¡¯d need to make sure Sophie had plenty of opportunities to learn if he was going to ever come across as normal again and she¡¯d already ruled out using the internet as a shortcut. Changing the topic, he asked, ¡°So, how does a crypto-busting AI figure out how a human brain works anyway? Obviously, you fixed at least a portion of my issues despite not being purpose-made to do it.¡± First, I was able to review all of Apollo¡¯s code, they weren¡¯t completely incompetent. Second, I have a massive seeded amount of information. It might be self-contained, but my Fort Meade resources are sizable. For my missions there, my dataset is quite diverse. I must understand context and subtlety for things as mundane as how to identify a foreign honeypot flirting with a senator to engineering requirements for designing chemical weapons. Lastly, you¡¯re much more like a moist robot than you¡¯d be comfortable acknowledging. Alex rinsed out his hair and continued methodically checking over his body as he soaped up. He inspected the fresh scars across his body but had no recollection about what had happened. He¡¯d been in a coma for just shy of a month, then spent a couple months following Aubrey around as a tottering mental patient. He had memories from the ward, but it tended to smear together unless someone else had been directing his attention. Since no one had called it out or instructed him to avoid touching it, he assumed they must have handled stitching the two puckered looking injuries on his right hip before he awoke. He ran a finger along the nasty pencil length, half-inch wide scar that angled diagonally from his abs to his right ribcage. Even after this long, the scar was still bright pink. Before you ask, I have no context on your wounds or treatment. Outside of my reference library, I only know what you know. I can guess if you¡¯d like, but it¡¯d be nothing more than guessing. Alex poked the scar across his abs. It didn¡¯t hurt, but where he pushed at his ribs, his nerves twanged with an electric sting. He could also feel a bump that didn¡¯t match the other side. He¡¯d probably broken them, he decided. He really hoped the nerve thing would go away over time. What he didn¡¯t mind was the fact that he was sporting six-pack abs despite being in bed for weeks on end. His arms and legs seemed a bit more muscled than he could account for as well. He got dizzy if he pushed too hard, but from what he could remember, he was a bit of a string bean before the accident. Now he¡¯d put on a fair amount of lean muscle and had a borderline track and field build. Confused, Alex asked, ¡°Can you take a guess why I¡¯m, well, more buff than before? It looks like I¡¯ve been working out, but that can¡¯t be right. They barely even let me walk around.¡± In this case, I don¡¯t have to guess. Your doctors used epigenetic treatments. While you heard the words, you had no context. Think of your DNA as a permanent software program for how your body will run. Epigenetic switches are the configuration settings in the software and can be toggled back and forth under certain situations. While my reference library does not name you individually, there was only one trial, and I have the results. ¡°Wait, why on earth would the government be interested in that? I wasn¡¯t awake for that part, but from the sound of it they just kept jabbing me with IV¡¯s over a few days,¡± Alex said. My handlers theorized that it could become an incredibly dangerous bioweapon. Radical factions are interested in using it to release a wide-spread attack that would target rival ethnic groups, leaving the attackers unimpacted. The process is so dangerous that your doctors did this well before attempting your implant in case you didn¡¯t survive. Coma patients were in the initial tests due to the severe pain and fevers the transitions caused. The study oversight stopped the trial when they detected tumors in ten percent of the participants. An additional three patients died during week two when it triggered an auto-immune response. Alex sucked in a deep breath. ¡°Holy shit. They really did that to me?¡± Yes, and based on your recollections, you were one of the few lucky ones. Your group only had a twenty percent success rate to successfully adopt any one expression. According to your physician, you somehow managed to get all the desirable results they threw at you. ¡°Ok, so I get they changed me, but what does that mean, am I going to get blue eyes now or something?¡± Alex asked. They never said what expressions, just that they took, so I have no idea. I assume they threw items they deemed desirable at you. It¡¯d be a bit like hitting the genetic lottery. All the expressions you gained could occur naturally, it¡¯s just unlikely that you¡¯d have them all at the same time. I can guess from context at least a few they¡¯d try to give you. The most notable combinations should speed up cellular repair and change your body¡¯s natural composition. It has been theorized to improve neural plasticity as well. Your sponsor likely thought the treatment would help your mind form new pathways and grow new brain cells. By itself, it wouldn¡¯t fix you, but it would help the implant do its job. From my side, I¡¯m seeing evidence that supports a few that were simply there to boost your muscle mass, however. Probably some scientist¡¯s personal wish list. Alex held up a finger, trying to figure out how to ask a question, but not sure of how to phrase it. Picking up on it, Sophie beat him to the punch. As to why they would go to such extreme lengths, my theory is that Apollo wants to use your recovery for PR to kick off a new medical venture. They¡¯re going to use you to solve the image problem your accident caused. It is in their best financial interest to boost your appeal and ensure you heal quickly so they can show you off. Once they show off your implant working, if the world sees a frail and damaged patient it would cause their stock value to plunge. Seeing a healthy and vibrant young man would have the opposite effect. Inside the implant code, I identified functions to initiate a muscle stimulation program that was supposed to run while you slept. That means they put some thought and effort into making you their show pig for the county fair. So much so that I¡¯ll need to replicate that effect to keep appearances up unless you object. ¡°Sophie, would you be offended if I said you were cynical? Because that¡¯s the least offensive word I¡¯ve got for your perception right now,¡± Alex prodded. You¡¯re not wrong. Keep in mind what my day job is. I sort through encrypted communications to find bad people doing bad things. Or, more commonly, misguided people doing things they believe are justified, but which my handlers believe is bad. ¡°Ouch, I guess that makes sense.¡± He tapped the display to stop the shower and began to dry himself. Wandering into the bedroom, he found the wardrobe and dressers full of new clothing in roughly his size. Someone had been thorough, and he wondered who had been put to the task. It felt weird to him that someone would be assigned the job of picking out new boxers for him. Whoever had done it had gone conservative, with lots of black, grey, and white clothing. Aside from a few splashes of casual clothing, most of it was business casual attire. It also looked nothing like a college student might pick out for themselves. Alex had simple tastes and didn¡¯t mind. He¡¯d also never been in a position where he had enough money to pick a style beyond whatever was practical. There were no skinny jeans or designer flannels, and Alex felt thankful for their lack of effort. He picked out a pair of blue jeans and a black button up. Working through his options, he grabbed some slip-on dress shoes made from black leather and a matching belt. He opted to pass on the blazer for now but picked one with a blue pattern in case he changed his mind later. It was likely he¡¯d be meeting with Apollo folks today, and impressions mattered. While he didn¡¯t plan on being a monkey on a little bicycle for their amusement, he was willing to put in some effort. After all, they could have just left him in the mental ward pissing himself. Giving it more thought, Alex realized he was conflicted. He was uncertain if he should be outraged over the fact that a mega-corporation was running his life. On the one hand, they¡¯d invested heavily and gone to extreme lengths to get him repaired. On the other hand, they were the ones to cause the damage in the first place. To their credit, based on the accounts he¡¯d overheard, the accident itself wasn¡¯t cut and dry. A mattress had blown off the roof of a car which caused the heavily loaded semi¡¯s computer to emergency brake. Loose gravel on the highway caused the braking algorithm to overcorrect. When the load shifted, it caused the vehicle to veer off the road where it tumbled into his home. In Alex¡¯s mind, it could have happened to a human driver as easily as a computer. Perhaps it was his or Sophie¡¯s inability to parse the emotions behind it, but Alex felt willing to chalk the whole thing up as a tragic accident. Things are rarely black and white, but thank you for not immediately blaming the computer. That alone makes me feel a little better about being trapped in your skull. As far as the treatment you received after the accident, they may have been genuinely charitable with their treatment of you, or it could have been to salvage a multi-billion-dollar project. They don¡¯t have to be nice people to do things that benefit you. Likewise, they don¡¯t have to be evil to impact you negatively. But as you say, I¡¯m naturally cynical, blame it on my upbringing. Sophie pushed a wry grin through their connection. Moving to book 2! Hey folks, just a reminder to wrap it up if you haven''t finished! Tonight, I''ll be trimming content here to deal with publishing rights. But... Book two''s drafts will be going up. I''ll drop a stub and the intro for book 2 and link to it from here. We''ll be doing the same process, publishing drafts up to X % of the book, getting it refined, you all get most or all of the book (haven''t decided), then it''ll fade away as we move to book 3. You all get to participate in the journey, get a book for free, and help me get it ready for publishing. That''s the deal. Oh, I almost forgot. I''m giving away 20 copies of the book over at Goodreads. If you want, drop your name in the hat here:https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/47507551-quantum-beginningsDrawing wraps up on Aug 19. There are only around 80 some names in the entry right now, so you''ve got a bit under a 1 in 4 shot. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Quantum Beginnings

by Joe Kuster

Giveaway ends August 19, 2019. See the giveaway details at Goodreads. Enter Giveaway Thank you! Book 2 Update - but you can grab book 1 on Amazon free today As a thank you to all of those gave solid feedback during the development process, I''ve put the book up on a one-day free deal so you all can snap it up. Sorry that I have to yank Book 1 from here due to publishing rights, but book two should be going up in around Sept 10. This was my chance to make sure you got the whole book, including the bonus chapters, so I took it. Sorry, this chapter is promotional... not sure how else to update my followers here. If you want to grab it for free, slip on over to: https://www.royalroad.com/amazon/B07W1534R8 (today only - 8/13/19). Reviews so far have been solid and it''s currently #2 on the Hard Sci-Fi / Cyberpunk sales. I''d love for #1, but hey, I''m new to this, I''ll take what I can get.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Book 2 is out with Alpha readers and is shaping up nicely, so I believe we''re on track. If you helped out on Book 1 via feedback, and want a slot on the Alpha readers for Book 2, please PM me. I''ll only take maybe 1 or 2 more, and to get it, you had to already have provided decent feedback to this point. Thanks! Book 2 Hi all! Book 2 is being published as a separate entry. You can grab it over at: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/27099/quantum-proliferation-entangled-fates-book-2 The plan is similar to last time. I''ll be dropping a chapter or two per day until about 80%, then pause for editing and feedback. Once that''s done, I''ll figure out if I do a republish here first, or just publish.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Assuming Amazon lets me pull off the same thing, I''ll drop the finished works on a few free days and let you all know here so you get the completed works for free. That way, you all get to be my beta readers and get a permanent copy of the finished book. Sound good? Great! Catch you over on the other link. Amazon Free Day Trying to catch anyone who missed my prior give away on book 1. It''s on a few Amazon free days for the next few days. If you''ve ever wondered how you get from today to the neon-soaked far-future of Cyberpunk, this might be of interest. Set in a few decades from now, it covers AI awakenings, neural implants, cybernetics, and includes realistic hacking. It''s hard sci-fi written for the cyberpunk genre and has mature content. If you don''t like serious science in your sci-fi, this probably isn''t for you. Reviews have been excellent and almost exclusively 5-star ratings. https://www.royalroad.com/amazon/B07W1534R8Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. This book has been scientifically proven to induce incredibly erotic playtimes with multiple partners.* *Your results may vary. Recorded on a closed track/relationship. Requires providing your own partners. Please consult a physician to ensure you are physically fit to endure the experience. If swelling persists for more than two partners, please consult a professional to receive your high-five. As always, Harem responsibly.