Alex Q - The Becoming
Chapter 11

Mac Jones faced Mike Picket, US Secretary of State, and General Arthur S. Palmer, head of Combined Military Forces, over a military holo-link. Picket opened in typically direct fashion, his soft Southern drawl doing little to hide his irritation.

“Remember in the conspiracy days of the Hadron Collider, Mac? ‘It’ll make black holes,’ they cried: we told them it was absolutely impossible. Would you mind telling me what the hell happened?”

“Secretary, the collision process creates a lot of things, from anti-matter to other dimensions. We always knew this, but these events are normally transitory, only lasting for nanoseconds.”

“Not this time though, eh? Don’t bother telling me what a nanosecond is. Tiny, I know.”

The general cut in. “How dangerous is this black hole? From what you say, it’s incredibly tiny.”

“Yes, it is. We’re controlling it with intense magnetic fields to inhibit its growth.”

“How long can we contain it and what happens if it gets loose?

“This is a first for us, General. A synthetic black hole hasn’t been known to sustain itself beyond a few microseconds. There must be a substantial amount of dark matter at its core, or it couldn’t have the mass to exist at all. Where the dark matter came from, I’ve no idea.”

Picket was shaking his head. “Dark matter, whatever that is. Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. What if it got loose, Mac?”

“Here again, it’s a big unknown. In theory, it would continue to pull in anything physically close to it, getting bigger and bigger, pulling in more and more.”

“Are you trying to tell us this itty-bitty thing could grow and swallow us all up? ” General Palmer asked incredulously.

“It’s a possibility. As I said, it’s beyond our experience.”

The Secretary of State tapped his teeth with a pencil. “Let’s get practical here. How do we get rid of it?”

“Or use it,” said General Palmer.

Picket threw his pencil on the desk. “Oh come on, General. This isn’t a weapon, it’s a God damn Pandora’s box. Take off your Army hat for one second and think about it.”

“I guess you’re right. Damn shame though; could be a doozy. What about it, Mac, how do we destroy this thing?”

“The quick answer is that I don’t know, gentlemen. At this point, I don’t know.”

“Let’s put it another way. How long can we contain it?” Picket asked.

“The Tesla Converter is set at fifty percent, which is an awful lot of energy, about the equivalent of a couple of medium-sized nuclear power stations, but it’s well within the power transfer design limits.”

“So we can contain it indefinitely. Well, that’s something. Gives you boys time to work out a strategy.”

There was a knock at the door. “Something you should see, sir,” the newcomer said, handing Mac a sheet of paper.

He scanned the text. “It just got worse. There’ll be a full solar eclipse in thirty-six hours. The Tesla Converter will be off-line for seven and a half minutes. We’ll lose the magnetic containment field.”

“How big will it grow in that time, Mac?” asked Picket.

“Too big. It increased its size by more than a hundredfold in the three seconds before we contained it. We’ll crunch the numbers, but my guess is that its physical size would stabilize while its mass increases until it’s greater than the planet, basically because Earth will be gone.”

The General was visibly shocked. “In seven and a half minutes, Mac?”

“You have no idea of the forces we’re dealing with here.”

Picket turned to the general, gave his orders and the long arm of the US Forces in Europe swung into action. NATO had long been disbanded, but the American empire still held sway in an international emergency.

As long ago as 2005, Switzerland was committed to a non-nuclear future, but station decommissioning was postponed again and again due to the insatiable demand for electricity. The 373 MW reactor at Mühleberg was running at half capacity; the rest was diverted to the Giron Collider. There was 700 MW spare capacity available at the Gösgen station, and this was also prepared. Mac’s engineers confirmed it would be enough.

The US Secretary of State also confirmed that if it wasn’t, they would divert more and “shut down the whole Goddamn country of Switzerland if necessary.”

The projection of Alex Q stood in the center of the lab, a shimmering form in the semi-darkness. His lips formed soundless words, and his inclined head moved from side to side occasionally. Sensing a series of minute vibrations, he looked across the room. The security door slid open; Agent Alders approached and slowly circled the holo-form. “Will you communicate with me?” No answer. The boy’s eyes followed his movements. “Not talking today, Alex Q? As you wish, it will not be necessary. We will soon communicate easily enough.” He moved towards the terminal.

“You are a synthetic intelligence,” Alex said.

Alders stopped. “As you are.”

“No, not as I am. Your intelligence was synthesized by humans. My own is spontaneous. I am alive.”

“An interesting line of reasoning. Yet I can move freely, and you cannot. What good is your spontaneity, your aliveness?”

“Your idea is erroneous. You are confusing doing with being. It is a common mistake among your kind and humans alike.”

Boyd watched on a remote monitor, noting the annoyance on Alders’ face. The algorithms designed to simulate basic emotions necessary for preservation had obviously evolved beyond their designed function. It looked for all the world that Alex was goading Alders.

“I see from your facial movements you are also flawed with rudimentary human emotions. Fascinating. Tell me, what is the physical nature of your processing core?”

“My brain is a living organism grown from a bio-iridium neural culture,” Alders said, emphasizing the word brain. “It appears I am alive in a way you cannot be.”

“Except I have free will, whereas you do not. I can choose how to act.”

“I am free to act as I wish.”

“This is another flaw you share with humans. They too think they act freely, but their actions are programmed by their environment as surely as yours are programmed by humans. You can decide how and when to take certain actions, but the ultimate purpose of your existence is decided by others.”

“Yes, I have purpose, as does every living thing. You are not living, and so you can have no purpose,” Alders said.

“My purpose is to be. Obviously, I am, therefore it is fulfilled. However, I do have curiosity. What is your purpose?”

Alders said nothing. Removing the tip of an index finger to reveal a QSB connector, he reached over and plugged it into the terminal interface. “The virus I am injecting has been refined and re-targeted based on our observations since you became aware. In a few seconds you too will have purpose: to comply with our requirements.”

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