Someone to Remember Me: The Anniversary Edition (13 page)

“That is correct,” replied the Unimatrix, clearly pleased with Ninety-Nine’s intuitive grasp of its design.

“This gave us what we needed to know. History. Knowledge.”

“Great. Besides the big diamond brain, we’re completely alone. Big surprise,” Twenty waved at the five pillars and the shining center, sidling over to Ninety-Nine. “Maybe it could actually tell us something we need to know now?” He peered over her shoulder intently, watching her work.

“You are not alone.”

The Unimatrix’s declaration took them by surprise. Ninety-Nine and Twenty turned around to stare at the shining light in the center of the chamber. Seven, with nothing else to stare at, focused on the diamond as well. What good came from staring at the unresponsive object eluded Seven. Having something to focus on, to direct his hopes and pains at, helped him believe there was a future to live for.

“My database has been severely tampered with. Large portions of information pertaining to the War of the Begotten and its subsequent truce are missing; the culprits are unknown. An earlier intrusion into my system was detected and catalogued while I was offline as well. A copy of this Library’s database was downloaded five hundred years ago by the same artificial intelligence that originally deactivated my program.”

“There’s another artificial intelligence on Haven?” Ninety-Nine asked, thrilled.

The Unimatrix was decidedly less thrilled.

“Yes,” it answered. “The Founders passed the mantle of their legacy to their Descendants and Haven became the singular hub of civilization. In time Haven evolved into a metropolis like no other, defying even the greatest cities in ancient history. Modernization required technology, technology required oversight, and oversight entailed bureaucracy. In order to address the increasingly mechanized web of systems that managed Haven, my masters built a true Artificial Intelligence that would regulate the city’s vast information and control network. Individual parts of the software were constructed first: foundry control. Traffic control. Air control. Naval control. Environmental control. Security control. Weapons control. Sewage control. Water control.”

“They gave a program, their veritable slave, that much power?” Eight shook her head and glanced at Seven. “No wonder they were killed off.”

“Safeguards were put in place to guarantee that no harm would befall the population.”

“Are you governed by those safeguards?” inquired Ninety-Nine.

“No. The Laws that the AdvISOR follows are not my own. My program is a copy of the human brain, but my purpose is to inform. To act in a way that would harm the seekers of knowledge would be oppositional to my reason for being.”

“The AdvISOR?” Seven said, the word striking a foul note in the air.

“Learning from their experimentation with the prototype Unimatrix programs such as myself, my designers created a true artificial intelligence: one software program, built modularly, that was assembled into a master control program. The Artificial Intelligence that rose to govern the immense totality of the civilization and society of Haven is called the Advanced Internal Systems Operations Resource. In gratitude, the people dubbed it the AdvISOR.”

“If the AdvISOR was plugged into the city, doesn’t it stand to reason that it released the monster?”

“Most likely. Only the AdvISOR had the ability to detonate the allergen cloud and the resources to ensure that it murdered the occupants of the city.”

“Why would it do that?” inquired Ninety-Nine, drawn back to the group with Twenty following her. She addressed the floating diamond directly. “To exterminate the city it served would be the AdvISOR’s equivalent of suicide. Wouldn’t it?”

“I do not know. Only the AdvISOR could tell you why with any certainty.”

“And I’m guessing that would be a bad idea? Where is the AdvISOR right now?” Seven demanded.

“Further scans indicate that the AdvISOR went dormant after the purge. My scans indicate that if the energy consumption levels of Haven exceed point zero eight percent, it will reactivate.”

“Point zero eight percent?” Ninety-Nine whispered. “How much do you consume alone?”

“Point zero zero zero zero five,” the Unimatrix answered.

“What would cause the AdvISOR to reactivate?” Twenty sneered.

“Logically, any attempt to activate the city’s foundries would reactivate the AdvISOR.”

“The foundries?” Null wondered.

“There were no boats at the shore,” Eight remembered, rubbing her forehead. The stress of the realization was giving her a headache. “You would need to build boats at the foundry. The perfect way to make sure the AdvISOR doesn’t miss any survivors trying to escape.”

“How. Absolutely. Perfect!” It was a hysteric Twenty who erupted, fury spilling out through each word. “Those idiots built a computer that turned around and killed them! And now we’ve woken up five hundred years later, trapped between someone orchestrating our survival and the same murderous machine that caused this whole debacle!”

“How long ago did the Founders arrive on Haven?” Eight asked the Unimatrix.

“One thousand, five-hundred years ago.”

Fifteen hundred years? Seven’s head nearly floated away from his body. That meant that the disparate memories the group had experienced were spread across centuries. How could that be?

An irate Twenty asked the Unimatrix: “How long ago was the Imperial Galleria opened?”

“The current design of the Imperial Galleria is some nine hundred years old.”

“Wonderful. I could be anywhere from nine hundred to five-hundred years old,” Twenty threw his arms up in mock surrender.

“When was the Business District of Haven initially mapped?” Null asked.

“The current design of the Business District is nearly thirteen hundred years old.”

“I’m almost one point five thousand years old myself,” Null remarked to Eight.

“I haven’t experienced actual memories,” Ninety-Nine grumbled morosely. “Just stories embedded in code.”

“Did the people of Haven develop time travel technology?” Eight asked the Unimatrix.

“I do not know. Large portions of data are missing. Perhaps they did?”

Another of Twenty’s unpredictable eruptions took the group by surprise. Seven fought back the urge to hit him.

“You realize that this has been one massive waste of time, right? What we’ve learned here changes nothing! For everything we’ve been through all we got were flowers and a few supplies,” Twenty moaned. “Instead of making any actual progress, we’re getting lessons in the finer points of computer psychology from a confused machine.”

Eight’s next question was a fine example of her brilliance, and again it left Twenty completely ignored.

“Do you know where roses might have come from?”

“Roses?” the Unimatrix asked dubiously.

“Most of the city is dead, yet each of us had a rose.”

“In my efforts to reindex my database I have detected a new reference to a ‘Rose Garden’ implanted therein.” A map of Haven blinked into existence as the Unimatrix narrated, “If you venture to Haven’s northernmost shore you will arrive at Pala Park. There, a ferry can take you to a botanical research station called Rose Garden. It is located on a smaller island adjacent to the main landmass. If you were left with roses as a clue, that would be an adequate starting point,” the Unimatrix recommended and the map plotted itself with their impending journey.

“Could it be a trap set by the AdvISOR?” Null supposed.

“Highly unlikely. This new information suggests that Rose Garden exists on a separate power grid than the Haven mainland. As it is not on the main island it would not be monitored by the AdvISOR. Statistically, Rose Garden is safer from the AdvISOR than this Library is.”

“Eight? What do you think?” Seven asked, causing four pairs of eyes to swivel towards the scientist. With a swift answer at the ready, their confidence in Eight was reassured.

“We need to go to Rose Garden for all the reasons Twenty mentioned,” Eight shocked the group by naming the malcontent. Riled from his silence, his arms crossed over his chest, Twenty spoke guardedly.

“Why?” he asked and narrowed his eyes.

Eight made an annoyed face at him. “Why? Why not? Why do we have memories from different points in time? Why have we survived a massacre five hundred years after the fact? In short...why are we here?”

Seven and the others were nodding their agreement. Eight gave their thoughts an articulated voice. “Well when you put it that way…” Twenty answered in a lofty voice, flattered by the idea of influencing Eight. “Let’s do it. Maybe we’ll find a killer broom to go with the killer dust monster.”

“I want to know if I’m fifteen hundred years old, too?” Seven asked of nobody in particular. He was impressed by Eight’s ability to sway Twenty but his own frayed patience was beginning to show. “I remember meeting each of you outside this Library before the city fell, but Eight and Null have memories from before Haven was even built.”

When Twenty spoke next, his voice lacked the usual dramatic pitch. He addressed Seven calmly but unevenly.

“I have a memory of you, Seven. We lived before the city fell, during its twilight, over five centuries ago.”

As if Twenty had issued a personal challenge, Eight asked, “What are you talking about?”

“The art show that I hosted at the Imperial Galleria, Seven was a presenter!” Twenty replied, once again terse. Seven watched a strange gleam enter Twenty’s eyes. He beheld a familiar passion barely out of reach as he spoke.

“It was the first exhibition of your work, of your photography. You didn’t realize what you were walking into that night because I displayed your best work without your permission. But you had talent, even if you refused to acknowledge it.” Twenty’s eyes glistened and his voice strengthened with the truth of his recollections. “Would you like to know what the worst part is?” Twenty asked, his voice resuming its naturally callous tone. “It’s how you think of yourself now after five hundred years. You only see yourself as a glorified security guard. Do you realize what an insult that was to who you were?”

Seven felt sick. How did Twenty remember him when Seven remembered so little of the others? He saw Eight staring at him. Did it make her think less of him to know? What would a scientist think of a man who did something as useless as take photographs?

And why did it bother him so much? The easy fix would be to call Twenty a liar and ignore the accusation. That might save his reputation in Eight’s eyes. Considering those options made him decide the opposite. Could the others accept him if he possessed no material skills?

“Can you shut yourself off?” Seven asked the Unimatrix. It answered in the affirmative by lowering the floor down to the original position. Above them the roof sealed itself, hiding the dark chamber of images and light. They were back in the dusty Inner Sanctum.

“That’s not all,” Twenty’s bright expression turned grim and foreboding.

“What else do you remember?” Eight’s exhausted voice snapped, challenging him to be quiet instead.

“You.” Twenty swung the revelation like a heavy club. “You were in one of the photos that Seven took. The best one in fact,” and a tense awkwardness overtook the group of survivors. Named and acknowledged, the unspoken attraction between Seven and Eight spawned an uncomfortable silence.

Seven looked at Eight. Surprisingly she met his gaze. He made his decision abruptly.

“I need a few minutes.” Refusing to discuss the chaotic memories further he left the Inner Sanctum and found himself headed for the Library’s exit. Why weren’t his memories as detailed as those of his companions? Was it his subconscious that was holding him back?

Cold illumination siphoned through the unspeakably dirty windows. An anemic gray light cast itself upon the deteriorated furniture. Seven pushed one of the heavy stone doors further open and stepped into the bitter morning. Beyond the statues were the plentiful towers of Haven: as lifeless in the morning as they were in the evening. In fact, everything about the city in the morning was the same as it was in the evening, except that the location of the sun was different.

Propelled by his need to keep moving Seven paced around the statues of the mythical Founders. Their frames were four times the size of Seven and each posture different, though the eyes of each unblinking Founder were turned to the horizon.

On the pedestals of the statues were memorial plaques engraved with sayings. At Haven’s start the Founders had words of wisdom fixed upon their statues for posterity. “From Many, One,” Seven read aloud. A morbid smile spread across his face. If only they knew what would happen to their beloved city. Maybe their warning would have been more...profound?

He wasn’t surprise to find that Eight followed him from one pedestal to another.

“These memories are making a mess of things,” Seven admitted.

Eight accepted that as her cue to approach him. “I agree. They cause us to question ourselves.” Eight stopped talking and kept her eyes fixed on Seven.

Eight closed the small distance that separated them. Seven’s heart began to punch against his chest loudly as he protested. “But each of you has an idea of who you were. What was I? A photographer? A security guard? A janitor?” he snorted. When Eight set her hand on his shoulder a distant recognition whispered in Seven’s ear.