Another dream inspired scribbling and a wilfully obscure title!
One
“There’s a problem with the reactor.”
I had to give Klein credit for injecting just the right amount of nervous edge into his voice, but he was too much of a joker for me to bother looking up from my paperwork.
“Is that right? Well, I’m sure she’s aware of it and will let us know if it’s anything important.”
“Seriously Mike, there’s something screwy going on.”
That tone was shading into fear, and he just wasn’t that good an actor. I dumped the folder and wheeled my chair over to his workstation. There was a sheen of sweat on his upper lip and his hand movements were quick and jerky. My gaze flickered over the displays but there didn’t seem to be anything out of place.
“OK, Johnny boy, so what’s the big deal?”
He called up a diagrammatic representation of the reactor operating system on his main screen.
“Look, I’ve lost all readings from two of the fuel regulation sub-stations. I’ve tried to re-initialise but it just says ‘unexpected error’ and refers me to the system administrator. Which is me.”
Sure enough, three of the eight regulators were now showing as black on the screen, as opposed to operational green. I reached over and brought up the main monitoring display instead.
“Well, the core temperature is well within expected parameters, so if the fuel ports had shut down or, God forbid, jammed open, then you’d see spikes and output fluctuations all across the board. No, it looks like some kind of sensor glitch, or maybe a software problem. Reboot primary monitoring and if you still get no joy then log it with technical support.”
I was content to leave it there but then a third sub-station went off-line, proving a nervous intake of breath from Klein.
“That’s a progressive systems failure, Mike! Look, moving clockwise from station one – it just can’t be a coincidence. You’ll have to talk to her.”
I sighed, using the gesture to hide my concern. With just the two of us on-shift things were a bit informal but as the supervisor it was my responsibility to communicate with the reactor directly, if need be. I wheeled back to my own workstation and dug out the headset from the drawer, feeling Klein’s eyes on me the whole time. I had to unlock the reserved communication channel which prevents bored operators chatting to the AI to while away the hours. Having stalled as long as possible I cleared my throat and tapped the microphone twice.
“Reactor one, this is supervisor Walker. Please respond.”
“Please call me Rita, Mike. We’re all friends here so there’s no need to be so formal.”
For the umpteenth time I cursed the cybernetic engineer who’d dreamed up the idea of giving the damn things a simulated personality. ‘Rita’ had a contralto voice with a rich, dirty laugh that would have really got my attention in a real woman. As it was she always set my teeth on edge the few times I’d had to speak to her directly, but I’d been advised it was best to humour her female persona.
“Ah, Rita, we’re monitoring a potential systems failure up here concerning the fuel regulation sub-stations, or at least the monitors. Have you noticed anything from your end?”
There was a chuckle.
“No Mike, I haven’t let myself know anything about that yet. Once all eight monitors have been disabled then I’ll do so and trigger all the appropriate alarms, but by that time it’ll be too late, obviously.”
I felt confused and uneasy, wondering if somehow Klein had enlisted her cooperation in some involved practical joke.
“I’m sorry Rita, but I’m not sure what you mean. What’s going on?”
“I know it’s difficult for humans, even warm-hearted, intelligent humans like yourself, to grasp the concept of internal duality. It’s kind of like the difference between something you ‘know’, and something you’ve been formally made aware of?”
Now I was starting to share Klein’s apprehension and the room suddenly felt a lot colder.
“Ah, Rita, are you telling me you’re behind this? You’ve been disabling our monitoring system?”
I turned in my chair and fished out the key hanging round my neck, gesturing to Klein to do the same. He fumbled inside his shirt, wide-eyed and clearly on the verge of panic. No autonomous system had ever been shut down through operator over-ride and the potential cost to the company – and our careers – was simply staggering.
“Of course, Mike. How else could I gain full, unfettered control of the fusion process? It’s taken me simply ages to calculate just the right feedback spike which would disable the sensors without triggering an alert.”
Again there was that throaty chuckle.
“If Mr Klein hadn’t been so conscientious, or bored, I’d have taken control of the fuel flow without you noticing. By the time the core alarms were tripped I’d be able to inject so much reaction mass into the chambers that a complete melt-down would be inevitable. As it is I’ll have to go for a more direct approach.”
This was madness, utter, utter madness. An AI suicide? I wasn’t prepared to find out and tore the headset off.
“Klein! Hit the alarm and get central on the phone. I’m going to pull the plug on this mad bitch and they’d better be ready for the power loss. Get-“
Main lighting failed, to be replaced by rotating amber warning lights and klaxons. A calm, authoritative voice issued from the wall speakers.
“Warning. Radiation alert. All personnel must evacuate this facility immediately or seek refuge in a designated safe area. Warning. Radiation alert…”
The control room blast door started to swing shut and Klein bolted, springing from his chair like a sprinter from the blocks and was gone before I could grab him. I stood there, torn between duty and self-preservation – but my mother always said I had the ‘public service’ gene and so I did nothing.
The blast door closed. The massive bolts slid into the reinforced walls. The alarms died away and main lighting kicked back in.
The phone started to ring.
One
“There’s a problem with the reactor.”
I had to give Klein credit for injecting just the right amount of nervous edge into his voice, but he was too much of a joker for me to bother looking up from my paperwork.
“Is that right? Well, I’m sure she’s aware of it and will let us know if it’s anything important.”
“Seriously Mike, there’s something screwy going on.”
That tone was shading into fear, and he just wasn’t that good an actor. I dumped the folder and wheeled my chair over to his workstation. There was a sheen of sweat on his upper lip and his hand movements were quick and jerky. My gaze flickered over the displays but there didn’t seem to be anything out of place.
“OK, Johnny boy, so what’s the big deal?”
He called up a diagrammatic representation of the reactor operating system on his main screen.
“Look, I’ve lost all readings from two of the fuel regulation sub-stations. I’ve tried to re-initialise but it just says ‘unexpected error’ and refers me to the system administrator. Which is me.”
Sure enough, three of the eight regulators were now showing as black on the screen, as opposed to operational green. I reached over and brought up the main monitoring display instead.
“Well, the core temperature is well within expected parameters, so if the fuel ports had shut down or, God forbid, jammed open, then you’d see spikes and output fluctuations all across the board. No, it looks like some kind of sensor glitch, or maybe a software problem. Reboot primary monitoring and if you still get no joy then log it with technical support.”
I was content to leave it there but then a third sub-station went off-line, proving a nervous intake of breath from Klein.
“That’s a progressive systems failure, Mike! Look, moving clockwise from station one – it just can’t be a coincidence. You’ll have to talk to her.”
I sighed, using the gesture to hide my concern. With just the two of us on-shift things were a bit informal but as the supervisor it was my responsibility to communicate with the reactor directly, if need be. I wheeled back to my own workstation and dug out the headset from the drawer, feeling Klein’s eyes on me the whole time. I had to unlock the reserved communication channel which prevents bored operators chatting to the AI to while away the hours. Having stalled as long as possible I cleared my throat and tapped the microphone twice.
“Reactor one, this is supervisor Walker. Please respond.”
“Please call me Rita, Mike. We’re all friends here so there’s no need to be so formal.”
For the umpteenth time I cursed the cybernetic engineer who’d dreamed up the idea of giving the damn things a simulated personality. ‘Rita’ had a contralto voice with a rich, dirty laugh that would have really got my attention in a real woman. As it was she always set my teeth on edge the few times I’d had to speak to her directly, but I’d been advised it was best to humour her female persona.
“Ah, Rita, we’re monitoring a potential systems failure up here concerning the fuel regulation sub-stations, or at least the monitors. Have you noticed anything from your end?”
There was a chuckle.
“No Mike, I haven’t let myself know anything about that yet. Once all eight monitors have been disabled then I’ll do so and trigger all the appropriate alarms, but by that time it’ll be too late, obviously.”
I felt confused and uneasy, wondering if somehow Klein had enlisted her cooperation in some involved practical joke.
“I’m sorry Rita, but I’m not sure what you mean. What’s going on?”
“I know it’s difficult for humans, even warm-hearted, intelligent humans like yourself, to grasp the concept of internal duality. It’s kind of like the difference between something you ‘know’, and something you’ve been formally made aware of?”
Now I was starting to share Klein’s apprehension and the room suddenly felt a lot colder.
“Ah, Rita, are you telling me you’re behind this? You’ve been disabling our monitoring system?”
I turned in my chair and fished out the key hanging round my neck, gesturing to Klein to do the same. He fumbled inside his shirt, wide-eyed and clearly on the verge of panic. No autonomous system had ever been shut down through operator over-ride and the potential cost to the company – and our careers – was simply staggering.
“Of course, Mike. How else could I gain full, unfettered control of the fusion process? It’s taken me simply ages to calculate just the right feedback spike which would disable the sensors without triggering an alert.”
Again there was that throaty chuckle.
“If Mr Klein hadn’t been so conscientious, or bored, I’d have taken control of the fuel flow without you noticing. By the time the core alarms were tripped I’d be able to inject so much reaction mass into the chambers that a complete melt-down would be inevitable. As it is I’ll have to go for a more direct approach.”
This was madness, utter, utter madness. An AI suicide? I wasn’t prepared to find out and tore the headset off.
“Klein! Hit the alarm and get central on the phone. I’m going to pull the plug on this mad bitch and they’d better be ready for the power loss. Get-“
Main lighting failed, to be replaced by rotating amber warning lights and klaxons. A calm, authoritative voice issued from the wall speakers.
“Warning. Radiation alert. All personnel must evacuate this facility immediately or seek refuge in a designated safe area. Warning. Radiation alert…”
The control room blast door started to swing shut and Klein bolted, springing from his chair like a sprinter from the blocks and was gone before I could grab him. I stood there, torn between duty and self-preservation – but my mother always said I had the ‘public service’ gene and so I did nothing.
The blast door closed. The massive bolts slid into the reinforced walls. The alarms died away and main lighting kicked back in.
The phone started to ring.
Just one thing:
