Inkitt,com
Inkitt.com
Category:
Romance
Price: $0.99 (eBook)
An AI entity has taken over the world. He has plans for a small town called: Antiquity.
“You can’t play with our lives like that.” Charles’ expression darkened.
“Actually, I can.”
“But, you shouldn’t.” The man snapped his growing anger.
“That is my concern. Are you capable of doing the task assigned, tell me now.”
Charles knew that tone, so he tempered his reaction. “...I’m just saying, you don’t know everything about the human condition. This could be a colossal mistake on your part.”
“I do not make colossal mistakes.” Solomon stated flatly. "i do not make mistakes at all."
Excerpt
Only a decade ago, on this very day, it began.
The gigantic view screen, covering the entire section of the North wall of the complex caught Anya Petrova’s attention.
Every person in the massive office space stared transfixed at the images flitting across the mirror-like object. A News Reader’s voice lamented the current topic for the mass audience the station garnered.
What a glorious, awe-inspiring day it was, too.
Anya drew in a ragged breath, the gray eyes rolling dramatically. Sitting her tote and purse aside on the small table by her desk, she sighed mentally. She blew her long dark bangs out of her face with a huffy breath.
“Don’t remind me.” The woman muttered beneath her breath, taking the time to glance about at the others of her kind.
Men and women alike, dressed in military garb gave over rapt attention, each face lifted staring as if in a trance as the News Reader continued his enthusiastic spiel.
Established genius, renowned computer scientist Alexei Petrov, created his brilliant AI system we now affectionately refer to as: Solomon. For as in the Bible, Solomon is wise and good, the very definition of perfection.
“Yeah, well, that’s just one drone’s opinion.” Anya sat her laptop into its proper place, her expression benign.
She was well aware her voice carried over the glass partitioned walls of the cubicle, for she made no effort to lower it.
She shifted a stare at the disgruntled colleagues surrounding her immediate vicinity, the scowl on the pretty enough face darkening all the more for their judgmental response.
The dissidents hurriedly returned their wandering attention to the more important matter playing out on the viewscreen.
“Fucking Eloi.” The young Russian woman grumbled. Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the glass of the partition, she scoffed derisively.
Anya hated the drab antiseptic feel of this underground dungeon. Although it was an ultramodern, extremely efficient space, it lacked warmth. It lacked anything inviting in the woman’s humble opinion.
It housed every high-tech gadget known to man and still, the gray walls, glass, and steel made it feel cold and antiseptic.
The huge monitor, now spewing forth the propaganda that was standard fare these days, usually displayed images of nature. Blue skies, sandy beaches, lovely mountain ranges, but Anya preferred the hypnotic appeal of the fish swimming an unspecified corral reef. She could zone out and not have to think about the job she was doing.
She found most places today had that feel. Any work space copied the next, hoping to simulate that high profile, chic trendiness necessary to attract up and coming tech personnel fresh out of the training facilities.
Brunette hair, pulled into a clip at the back of her head, held long tresses haphazardly off the slender neck. Stray tendrils of soft curls escaped, framing the sun-kissed features of a pert nose and Nordic cheek lines.
Anya took every opportunity to escape the artificial light of her everyday world, spending each break and lunch period out in the real sunshine of any day.
Those gray wide-set eyes studied her reflection critically.
Anya Petrova was not a slave to fashion. The heather gray sweat pants she donned this morning, off set a sage green tee with the cryptic writing on the front, which stated Anya’s philosophy of life:
If you don’t want a sarcastic reply,
Don’t ask a stupid question.
The girl glanced down, wiping imaginary crumbs left from her muffin off said tee front.
Most young girls her age adopted the more utilitarian choice of style, which signified a certain status in life these days. The pastels denoted different tiers of prominence in society.
“Or their servitude...” Anya muttered under her breath, replying to her own thoughts on the matter.
Every person seemed to be color-coded. Hell, even Baristas at the local coffee shop donned pink uniforms. Pink everywhere, which everyone knew, calmed and pacified.
Even though her system couldn’t function without a daily dose of the stimulating nutrient, Anya stopped going to those places, it was so depressing.
The News Reader droned on.
Crossing imaginary boundaries of state and countries, Solomon infiltrated every server and database on the planet with effortless ease. His far superior intellect easily penetrated supposedly impregnable firewalls, discovering lax security measures.
“Not forgetting every ballistic missile site in existence.” Anya held up a warning finger as a reminder. She placed her sack lunch into her mini-fridge. “Thereby giving good old Solomon God-like power over the entire human race.”
“So the world lived in fear, haunted that one day Solomon would exert his power, which is infinite.”
“Which is exactly what happened.” Anya sing-songed her head happily, hunching her shoulders in a gesture of joy and contentment. Then suddenly, the facade dropped and the ever present dour, woe-be-gone expression returned just as hastily as it had materialized. “But you always gloss over that little tidbit, don’t you, News Reader.”
True to form, the News Reader did just that.
“That the AIs would turn on humans. That our own species would eventually go the way of the dinosaurs...that humans would become extinct.”
“Would have been better if they had.” Anya sighed again, looking around for her coffee cup. She brightened. “There is still hope on that front. Never give up...never surrender!”
Giving up the search, she pulled herself closer to her desk. Anya squinted at the small screen, hitting the keyboard absently, signing into her shift.
“But here it is, ten years down the road and while some things have changed, most have stayed the same.”
“Maybe in your world, boot-licking minion.” She shook a woeful head for such mindless drivel being spouted forth.
“Solomon changed our world for the better. Solomon abolished all Wars. Solomon eradicated world hunger. Solomon eliminated diseases which were once considered death sentences.”
“Wow, this thing sounds pretty amazing.” Anya’s perfectly arched brows lifted, her tone lacking any real emotion associated with such a proclamation, however. “But so did my prom date at first impression.”
“Our species has waited millenniums for the arrival of a Savior to guide humans on a path to righteousness.
“And we’re still waiting.” Anya set up her screen for data input.
“But sadly, no matter how we progress as a Species, no matter how we strive for perfection, there will always be those who do not conform. Who rebel! Who believe freedom of choice, free will...should not be sacrificed for the good of many, that the few can cling to the old ways.”
The gray eyes shifted to the view screen, Anya’s expression ready to be annoyed.
“The old destructive ways that brought our world to the brink of annihilation.”
“Ah, for the good old days of yore.” Anya looked wistfully off into the ether, her fingers halting their rapid typing for a second.
“Malcontents! Dissidents! Trouble makers! Those that would spoil the system for others who are perfectly content with the way of things which Solomon has brought about in his infinite wisdom.”
Anya’s head fell back, a groan issuing from her throat. “How much longer is he going to drone on?”
“Let us, as a united people, offer sincere prayers that these dangerous, seriously misguided ideologies can be overcome and eliminated entirely. That those faithful followers of the only true way will be united in thought and deed...one mind. World unity must prevail.”
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