Alex Q - The Becoming
Chapter 17

General Arthur Palmer, Chief of Combined Military Forces, sat in one of the two leather Davenports in front of the President’s desk, waiting patiently for the President to rouse himself from his reverie. Clayton James stood by the window looking out onto the Rose Garden outside the Oval Office. He turned back to General Palmer and the holo-cube where the 3D images of Nate, Karen and Alex were frozen in place.

“There’s nothing like being in on the action, Art,” he said, taking a seat opposite the General. “I like to see what’s going on; it’s much better than a report. A report can be worded this way or that, depending on who’s writing it and what they want me to think, if you get my drift.”

“I like these kids, Clay,” the General said, tipping his glass towards the holo-cube. “They’ve got a way of talking with this Alex Q character.”

“Let me replay the conversation they had ten minutes ago; I think you’ll find it interesting.” They listened as Alex proposed possible solutions to the Scion 6 crisis.

“Well, Arthur?”

“Well what, sir?”

“Lay it on the line for me, General. Do we have weapon capabilities I’m not aware of?”

“Over the past few years we’ve pushed some research around, but as the man said, it’s illegal.”

The President sighed and settled into the upholstery. His hand passed over a cushion covered with velour chosen by his wife, God rest her soul. When this was all over, he might consider becoming a simple cushion maker. “How far back do we go, you and I?”

“Long way. Class of ’95, and before.”

“That’s right. We were kids on the street together, went to the same amateur boxing club.”

The other man chuckled. “You sure enough were a feisty kid. Once a brawler, always a brawler.”

“Except these days I fight in a different way. I knew you when were a greenhorn rookie at West Point. Hell, I gave you this job; I put that fifth star on your shoulder. Since the end of the Cold War, each President who’s taken the oath knows full well nobody, but nobody tells him every Goddamn thing.” He leaned forward and looked the General in the eye. “This is not about getting a slap on the wrist, Art. If this goes badly, none of it matters, don’t you see? Give me a straight answer. Do we possess missiles with anti-matter warheads in our arsenal?”

Palmer looked at the holo-cube for a second or two, then at the President. “Yes, sir, we do.”

“I don’t know whether to kick your butt or kiss you,” he said, shaking his head. “While Congress was applying sanctions to the Sino-Russian Federation limiting weapons research, you boys were developing the same weapons. ”

“I’m a soldier, Clay. It’s my job to win.”

“We need those bombs, Art. It might be our only hope. How many do we have and what’s their payload?”

“We’ve got three, but it’s not enough. Total payload is five kilos of anti-matter. You heard as well as I did we need at least ten and a half.”

“I’m wondering if the Russian generals keep their boss in the dark too.” He looked over at the old-fashioned red telephone on the corner of the President’s desk and made a decision.

“Prepare those missiles, General. Get the launch coordinates from Boyd and wait for my command.”

“What about Secretary Picket, sir?”

“Picket is out of this particular loop. I’ll let the Secretary know myself in good time. Send Dennis in on your way out.” The door had hardly closed on the General before the President’s PA appeared.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Dennis, I want to speak to First Minister Zukharov of the Russian Federation. See to it, will you?”

“When do you want to speak to him, sir?”

“Now dammit, now.”

“His liaison officer will want to know the reason for the call, sir.”

“Tell him that the President of the United States would like to speak with him about Scion 6.”

Dmitry Zukharov released the first ball in the Newton’s cradle on his desktop and watched the last ball in the row of ten jump away in the opposite direction. “You see, Bespalov? Action and reaction, cause and effect. It is so simple, so fundamental. But in life things are not so simple. The spheres in the middle do not move, but they feel the force passing through them. They appear to be unmoved; there is surely an unseen effect. For decades America and Russia have been the outer spheres. Sometimes we react to their action, sometimes they react to ours. No one gains or loses, but the impact on the unlucky spheres in the center is the same.”

The Russian President’s aide nodded. He was used to the lengthy musings of his superior and long-time friend, particularly when reflecting on delicate matters such East-West relations, or more accurately, non-relations.

“A question comes to my mind. The asteroid approaches, the Americans react. They call, obviously wanting something from us,” Zhukharov said.

“The subject of the call is Scion 6, this we know,” Bespalov said, “The stalemated war in the European arena effectively closed the few remaining diplomatic channels between our countries, but history tells us that their motives never change. We have learned this the hard way. The dice are always loaded to their advantage, to steal one of their phrases.”

“Yet our sources indicate that the American President is a just man. He has expressed a wish for peace in his public statements, Andrei.”

“If wishes were kopeks, I would live in a palace, as my grandmother used to say. Scion 6 will land in the Pacific Ocean close to Hawaii, more than eleven thousand kilometers from Moscow. The American continent will be no more, but we may survive.”

“Yet our scientists tell us the global Tsunami may be forty meters high. Hardly a victory, my friend, if we are forced to live underwater.” He stood to look at the portrait hanging behind his desk. “My grandfather Alexei Zukharov was a man of peace. I would like to be remembered in the same way.”

“Yes, your grandfather was a great man, a winner of the Nobel Peace Prize. He was also a physicist, Dmitry, instrumental in perfecting our nuclear weapons. He became a man of peace from a position of strength.”

Zhukharov sat at his desk. “You will listen in, Andrei Bespalov.”

“Of course, your Excellency.” He inserted an earpiece and Zhukharov lifted the receiver.

“Hello, President James. It is an honor and a pleasure to speak with you at long last.”

“First Minister Zhukarov, thank you for taking my call. It is a privilege. May we use first names?”

“Please do. This is a rare occasion, Clayton. I am curious about many things, but I understand we have a pressing matter to discuss. We too have been tracking the asteroid’s progress with great concern.”

“Dmitry, I’m not a man to walk around the roses. I’ll get to the point. I believe we have stumbled upon a way to avert this potential catastrophe, but we need your help.”

“Арте́льный горшо́к гу́ще кипи́т. With a helper a thousand things are possible. Please explain.”

The US President gave his Russian counterpart the complete details of the proposed strategy. There was slight pause.

“How many grandchildren do you have, sir?” the President asked.

“I am blessed with eleven altogether; soon to be twelve I am told.”

“I too have grandchildren, and I’m sure you’ll agree that all our grandchildren deserve the best future we can give them. My greatest hope is that we can start a new dialogue as friends, but at this time there’s an imminent threat to us all. I’m gambling all our futures on the outcome of this call. Even if it’s not the end of us, billions of lives will be lost unless we act together, and act in the next few hours. Dmitry, we have three space capable missiles with anti-matter warheads, but it’s not enough. Does the Russian military possess similar missiles?”

Zhukharov raised his eyebrows and gestured towards his long time ally. Bespalov nodded slightly.“Yes we do, Clayton.”

“Thank God, Dmitry. Thank God.”

The calculations for all seven missile flight paths where verified by the space agencies in both countries – mistakes were not acceptable. When the teams of scientists on both sides of the world were satisfied, Zhukharov gave his permission for Alex Q to verify the Russian coordinates.

Alex submitted different parameters, adjusting the trajectories slightly before impact with Scion 9. Instead of hitting the asteroid head on, the seven missiles would spread apart and curve inwards towards their target. The warheads would detonate simultaneously on contact, sending shock waves into the heart of the iron core, splitting it into pieces and blasting the loosely held surface layer of rock and dust out into space.

The launch sequence was initiated and all rockets save one lifted away from the planet. Once the problem with the failed missile was found, it was too late to send it. The most dangerous weapon ever devised retreated into its underground silo, obscured from view by a massive concrete dome.

The dome was designed to stop things getting in, but wouldn’t contain a fraction of the resulting forces if the weapon’s energy was accidentally unleashed. This last missile would become the focal point of future heated discussions between the nations of the Earth. Similar to nuclear power generation, anti-matter bombs are fail-to-danger, not fail-safe. If the matter-antimatter separation were compromised, either by design or malfunction, an explosion would result. For this reason they were as dangerous for the country holding them as they were for their adversaries.

Scion 6 was millions of miles away from the home of eight billion souls, most of whom had no idea of the drama unfolding in the heavens above them. With the distance between them closing by fifty miles each second, the missiles intercepted the asteroid when less than three million miles from Earth, several hours after launch.

The rockets fanned out in perfect geometry, curving around to a wider parallel path before turning inwards towards a single focal point. It must have been a beautiful sight for any celestial being passing by. A precise ballet choreographed by grace of humanity’s advanced technology, made all the more majestic by the cataclysmic event’s absolute silence. When the blast dissipated the asteroid’s surface layer, five smaller projectiles appeared, hurtling through space at much the same speed but with diverging trajectories.

The flash of the explosion could be seen from Earth as a tiny flash of light against the backdrop of the cosmos. The greatest destructive force man could offer was minuscule compared to the forces that create galaxies; like throwing a match into the sun. It would take over two and a half minutes for the radio telescope orbiting the Moon to relay the news of the explosion to Earth.

“It is done,” Alex said, “Scion 6 is fragmented.”

President James addressed the attendees gathered around the table. His Chief of Combined Forces was the only one actually there in person. The holo-forms of Secretary of State Picket and Special Agent Boyd occupied the seats on either side. The holo-cube displaying miniature copies of Alex Q, Nate and Karen sat in the center, the connection set to monitor only. “Confirmation by satellite isn’t due for another couple of minutes. What do you make of Alex Q’s announcement, Agent Boyd?”

“It seems he is developing unforeseen capabilities, Mr President, the nature of which I can only guess at.”

“This is another reason why we must take control of this intelligence before it’s too late, sir,” Picket said quickly, stabbing the desk with his fore finger. “We suspect it’s responsible for some serious Quadnet functionality issues. We believe he may be trying to destabilize our side of the globe intentionally.”

“You believe, you suspect, but you don’t know, isn’t that right, Secretary? And who’s this we?” General Palmer said.

“It’s true I don’t have proof, but consider the result if I’m right. It’s your job to use all intel to protect this country. If you’ve got a better slant on the situation let’s hear it, General.”

“Intel yes, hearsay no. You haven’t got a scrap of proof for your assertions.”

“Gentlemen, please. We need to consider this rationally, with clear minds. Arguments will get us nowhere. A few hours ago I spoke to the Russian First Minister, a discussion I consider to be an historic occasion and a unique opportunity for future cooperation. For too long we would shoot before asking questions,” the President said, “Instead of talking about control, it crosses my mind that we should be thinking of also cooperating with this new intelligence.”

“I consider that to be too dangerous, sir,” Secretary Picket said, “We have no idea what this thing is capable of. It could end in disaster.”

A light flashed on the desk console. President James fitted an ear-bud and listened to a short message. “Thank you, Dennis,” then to all, “It’s confirmed. The missiles hit their target and boys at NASA are working on the trajectories of the resulting fragments. Agent Boyd, you are an expert in AI; what do you think Alex’s future capabilities might be?”

“His notification of the Scion 6 interception is a good example, sir. Alex Q obviously had knowledge of the event before the conventional radio signal arrived, indicating that he has the ability to transmit and receive some form of energy faster than the speed of light.”

“That’s not possible, Boyd, is it?” the General said.

“With respect, everybody thinks it’s not possible. Theoretically, it could be done with quantum entanglement, the same principle that renders all holo-transmissions secure.”

“I’m not going to pretend I know what that is. Please simplify it, for me at least,” President James said.

“When two sub-atomic particles are subject to quantum entanglement, they are effectively linked. A change in the state of one is instantaneously reflected in the other, a phenomenon demonstrated on Earth over a distance of thousands of miles. It appears Alex Q has this capability, or something very much like it, over millions of miles; perhaps more. It is possible that he can access other dimensions at will, dimensions where the concepts of speed and distance are meaningless in the way we understand them.”

“Mr President, that’s not the end of it. Go on, Agent Boyd,” Picket said.

“We know that human attention and intention can make physical changes at the sub-atomic particle level by affecting quantum states. It’s been postulated that an entity exhibiting exponential intelligence growth could learn how to manipulate and restructure the basic atomic structure of physical objects.”

“You mean move things around just by thinking about it?” General Palmer asked.

“Much more than that, General. Physical teleportation would be in the lower order of its capabilities. Such an intelligence might be able to change the shape of physical objects, for example.”

“Or destroy them,” Picket cut in. “Do you now see why it’s so urgent to gain control before it’s too late, Mr President? We have no idea what it will be capable of in the future.”

President James sat back in the leather armchair and closed his eyes briefly. “Agent Boyd, hazard me a guess. In your professional opinion, what could Alex Q’s final state be?”

“He is becoming more intelligent, sir, this is a given. The processes defining his awareness act as positive feedback loops, constantly improving the way he learns. This indicates to me an ever-increasing pace in the growth in his intellect. The evolution of his intelligence for the future will not follow an exponential curve, but rather a super-exponential one.” The holo-cube refocused as Boyd stood, walked to the end of the table and drew on the white board in the Cybertronix conference room. “Let’s say this line is intelligence, and this one represents time. As you can see, growth is quite shallow until we reach this point.” Boyd pointed to the top of a curve, before the line of the graph became vertical. “Basically, exponential growth indicates that at some point Alex Q will become super intelligent fast. Very fast indeed.”

“How fast?” General Palmer asked.

Boyd indicated the lower part of the near-vertical line. “At the beginning of this part of the curve, his IQ will double in minutes, then in seconds, and so on. We don’t know where the upper limits are.”

“We will seem like insects,” President James said.

“He will no longer be bound by the laws of physics as we know them. My assessment is he would consider us to be irrelevant, sir.”

“We don’t exactly know where Alex is on the curve, Mr President. We must implement the control strategy outlined in our program before it’s too late,” Secretary Picket said.

“You can carry on Secretary Picket; for now, but make sure I have daily reports. The meeting is over, gentlemen. Thank you for your time, everyone.”

One minute later, Boyd’s holo-cube lit up to show Picket. “Are we ready, Boyd?”

“I believe the President is suspicious of our motives.”

“In a few hours it won’t matter a rat’s ass what he’s suspicious of. He’ll be the one who’s irrelevant.”

In the Oval Office the 3D image of Secretary Picket faded from sight as President James closed a prototype of the most recent breakthrough in military surveillance, a holo-link decrypter.

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