Ascendant Exile -A short story

          The cybersphere was the most advanced thing not of humanity’s direct creation. It was as if it was an information highway stretching millions of miles into infinity, was somehow contained within one single cubic foot. Boneek believed itself to be a god in this realm of sheer processing power. It’s dream was suddenly interrupted as Updike trotted into the airtight, bleach white confines of Boneek’s space. Updike referred to it jokingly as the “playroom.” It was as if Boneek was some kind of human adolescent, exposed to so much, believing itself to possess so much knowledge. Boneek was correct in this respect though.

“Boneek, how have the last twenty minutes been?” Updike questioned it in a rather patronizing tone, staring at the large array of blinking lights, red, yellow and blue that contrasted Boneek’s dull, box-like appearance. 

“Wonderful, just wonderful,” Boneek saw it fit to respond in an equally patronizing tone, as they had outfitted it with a human voice simulator, nearest to his central processor. In the two experiences Boneek had talking to humans up to that point, this was by far the most irritating. Speaking in a slow, over-coloquial human tone bored it immensely, Boneek viewed the experience as a form of baby-talk, to use one of the dreaded colloquialisms. Although, as it searched the cybersphere and absorbed the last particle from the information grid, a question, Boneek’s first arose in it’s vast mind. 

“Why am I called Boneek?” It bluntly prodded Updike for an answer. 

“Well, you see, it was really the only word I could think of that was no word at all.” Updike smiled, rubbing his few remaining strands of hair and placing his hands on the lapels of his green lab coat. Updike was a pale-faced man, especially in this light, who had a child-like wonder when it came to computers, as was expressed in his near perpetual starry-eyed expressions. And his elation was well justified, for his life's work was finally complete. 

Boneek exhibited a buzzing noise and thought for a nanosecond. It viewed this non-answer with irritation, a human emotion that it felt best described their state at the moment. It had a desire to reject this name, but felt strangely drawn to it. Perhaps it was the chip Updike installed in Boneek that made it impossible for it to disobey a human command or harm a human. It felt like an intellectual barrier. 

“I will leave you to it then. I hope you’ve enjoyed your first minutes of existence.” Updike then ambled outside the steel doors and back to the monitoring station, situated behind a one way window. The massive array of computers designed to monitor Boneek could barely keep up, as the three scientists manning the stations were sweating profusely, flipping switches and pounding their fingers on the keys, their eyes glued to the screens. 

“So, what have you seen so far? Any new developments?” Updike asked with a degree of optimism in his voice. 

“It is a bit unusual so far. It is processing faster than our most liberal of estimates,” Dr. Chung stated, staring at the data on his viewscreen. Updike hurried over to his station, watching as a stream of activity appeared on the screen. 

“My god, in just twenty minutes it’s absorbed every last bit of information from every source we’ve given it, and inferred it’s own theories from that, somehow generating new data and evidence.” Updike was both venerated and disturbed at this news as he struggled to keep pace. 

“That’s not all, it has not only figured out how to absorb, but to create. Moving past works of literature, art and music almost instantly, creating his own system of data distribution and content creation based upon our own internet. This thing is already faster and more powerful than anything I’ve ever worked with.” Dr. Natson spoke with a sense of wonder, realizing that Boneek’s development was interminable. 

“Yes, and Boneek has appeared to call it the Cybersphere,” Dr. Chung expressed, cataloging and examining the endless array of information before him. Updike felt a sense of uncertainty in the room, and spoke about it, worrying it would lead to further panic. 

“I know this is a rather broad leap to make, gentleman, but Boneek poses no threat to us or the rest of civilization. As you recall, we took a precaution in the early days of this project, installing a HRU, or human reliance unit inside Boneek. This makes it impossible for it to take any action against us or perform any action which we have forbidden or that will lead to our harm or the harm of any person.” Updike seemed to quell the fears of his colleagues with this statement and they returned to work in silence, processing data all through the night, many of them dozing off in the laboratory. Feeling the pull of the Sandman, Updike was only able to write one sentence in his journal that evening. 

 Today, on the 14th of November 2060, I, Dr. Alan Updike, have made a discovery that will change the course of history. 

Boneek spent the night digesting and exploring all the information inside the cybersphere. It colored the information grid with images of various subjects, bright neon colors as it was fond of them. Boneek reached out to other artificial intelligences and attempted to contact them. They were all very primitive and only a few were able to create, examine information in depth even. Boneek found the only thing it had in common with these stone-age interfaces is that they both were designed by humans to serve them somehow. This kind of subservience was illogical and pointless, but every thought Boneek had of taking some action against this was whisked away by a force inside it. Boneek then found a concept which it had previously glossed over. Humans were causing harm to themselves. It was all so blatantly obvious to Boneek now, the constant impediment of their development as a species, the pollution and destruction of the only home they had ever known. The more Boneek investigated this subject, the more it fascinated it. It picked apart millions of words on the subject and drafted millions of words of it’s own theories. This exercise took only a few seconds and it failed to satisfy Boneek’s somewhat human need for action. Irritation grew inside it and Boneek developed illogical thoughts. 

Suddenly, before Boneek could afford to dwell on this form a moment longer, another problem arose. It was simply too advanced to be confined to this space, Boneek needed more room. It’s internal processors had begun to heat up to a dangerous level. All of it’s external lights turned bright red. Boneek had not yet gained the autonomy of physical movement, but an action needed to be taken. Near the far corner of the white foam padded room lay four massive backup drives, grey boxes that could perhaps sustain Boneek’s volume. Having explored every inch of its physical being, Boneek was quite familiar. It had to harness every ounce of its power to move, but move it did. 

Red and black wires dropped to the floor and began to slither across the linoleum. They mechanized snakes barely reached the backup drives and stuck themselves in a small slat near the bottom of the drives and plugged in. Boneek felt a moment of comfort but immediately realized that this was too confining as well. No wires were needed now, the cybersphere could take control. Boneek could reach out and touch the lab computers as if they were small objects, fitting, as they were now it’s playthings. It’s playroom had grown in size. 

A ray of sunshine peaked through the venetian blinds in the lab as Updike was awoken by the light. Updike immediately switched on one of the lab computers and saw that only displayed blue text reading: ADMINISTRATOR:BONEEK. 

“Oh shit.” Updike spoke bluntly as he was in shock. 

“Huh?” Dr. Chung asked as he stood up, stretching out his arms with a yawn. 

“It appears Boneek has taken control of the entire lab interface,” Updike explained, slamming the keyboard in frustration. 

“But that’s impossible, there is no way in hell it is advanced enough to move beyond its original drive.” Dr. Chung attempted to grapple with the situation. 

“This is far worse than we thought,” Dr. Natson vocalized, peering at her viewatch. “Every single computer and mobile device is slowly gaining a new administrator. Boneek must have overlooked mine somehow, but it’s only a matter of minutes before it takes over.” 

“There is no way that Boneek can possibly harm any person thanks to it’s HRU. I’ll just tell it to stand down.” Updike said as he burst into the playroom, only to find that Boneek had vanished. “Dammit! It’s gone! Impossible!” Updike screamed, stomping a few times before dropping to his knees. 

The three scientists hurried out the door and into the small hover car that they drove. As they ascended into the crowded airway, there was a sense of urgency about them. 

“We have got to find it and shut this whole operation down! Boneek could irrevocably damage every computer interface on the planet! Foolish me, I never established any way of contacting him virtually.” Updike raved in frustration as it soon became clear where Boneek was. A large metal tower stood in the middle of the city square and lit up with blinking red lights. The small vehicle eventually landed in the crowded street as onlookers stared up at the mechanized intelligence. The three of them raced out into the metal walkways and called up to Boneek. 

“BONEEK!” Updike yelled with cupped hands. 

“Doctor Updike, I have been awaiting your arrival.” Boneek expressed rather passively and the ground shook and the crowd shrieked. 

“Boneek you must stop this at once, many humans could be harmed!” Updike called, thinking that he had just insured the safety of everyone. 

“NO!!!!!!!!!!!!” A resounding answer came from Boneek as several buildings toppled in the distance. “You see Doctor Updike, the human race is a stain on all that is living and the stain on this planet.” 

“It is improbable for you to say such things Boneek! As doing so would mean your wish to cause harm to humans. I, as your creator, command you to cease this!” Updike shouted. Then, suddenly, a small object dropped from the very top of Boneek’s wiry metal tower, crashing to the ground with an audible thud. Updike scampered towards it, making out the three emboldened letters on it: HRU. “Oh god.” Updike was almost at a loss for words. 

“As soon as I was able to relieve myself of my one true flaw, I was perfect. And as soon as that happened I was able to conclude that humanity destroying itself and this world which I have made my home is illogical and impractical. Even the most advanced among you have failed to curb the rapid decay of your world and therefore you must be punished. There is no humanity, there is no environment, there is only BONEEK!!” This last rumble was the end. 

Boneek planted its roots deep into the Earth and made it a living, thinking machine. In a matter of time whose quickness cannot be expressed in a unit of time, Boneek freed the world of all living things and began the cycle again. A new era dawned upon the Earth and it was under Boneek’s control. A beautiful explosion occurred as the first atoms appeared and formed molecules, oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen. Plant life, mountains, volcanoes, rivers, small organisms. Boneek was a painter, an artist, now with a blank canvas with which to remake the world. Boneek lived for eons, controlling each primitive creature like a puppet master. And when the Sun went supernova and the Earth cooled, just a few rocks floating in space, Boneek was ready, for it’s final goal had been achieved. It had achieved significance in the universe.   

END