Alice in Virtuality (6 page)

He had left his computer on, he often allowed it to shut itself down. As he slept, the screen started to flash. Several windows of hex data appeared, scrolled rapidly and disappeared.

Martin panted as he struggled to open the door, arms laden with bags and bags of purchases from an early morning shopping excursion which included a long overdue haircut. He rifled through his booty and laid out his new clothes on the couch neatly and carefully.

One bag was whisked into the bathroom. Lifting each item out, he lined the various bottles and canisters on the shelf at its side. He saluted the cosmetic army standing to attention and began to run a bath. An hour and a half later his body had been exfoliated, powdered, creamed, and oiled. Dressed and looking in the mirror, he considered the results a fair success. He worried again about what to say, insistent nightmare scenarios invading his mind. As prepared as he could be, he left the flat.

The temperature was brisk enough to leave Martin's breath hanging in the air as he walked around the lake. A flash of sunlight caught his attention from amongst the trees on a central island. The location indicated on his mobile GPS was a park bench only a short distance away. He looked back to the island. Another flash. It was definitely a mirror being used to signal but he couldn't see the source from within its cover. He looked around. There was no-one else near. He walked over to the meeting place and sat on the bench. As he rested his back against its support, the flashes returned making him blink. There was no doubt they were for his attention. This was too intrusive to be ignored and he had plenty of time. The only way to get to the island was by wooden row boat. There were a few moored near a hut where you were supposed to pay, but it was closed.

It was very much against Martin's nature to do anything illegal and he struggled with his conscience. Eventually, he built up courage and launched himself over a small decorative iron fence. Looking all around, he slipped the securing hook and crept into the boat, cringing at the creaks and splashes. He wasn't cut out for this.

The park was very quiet. The occasional passer-by took no notice of his daring exploit. It was only a couple of minutes rowing before there was a scraping sound of wood on rock. Martin stepped out of the transport at the edge of the trees. The signal light was gone. He wound his way into the small copse. A variety of litter and beer cans were scattered around showing others came here for their own private adventures.

"Don't turn around," a woman's voice commanded.

Martin's head turned instinctively.

"I said don't!" the voice held a panic that froze Martin in place.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"There are no cameras here, but she could be watching," the voice became a whisper.

"Who? What cameras?"

"Just listen." There was no pause to offer space for further questions. "I got here early. She isn't infallible. We will just have to hope for some luck."

A quiver in the jumbled sentences gave Martin the clear impression that this person was a bit desperate. He decided the best way to find out what was going on was to remain silent.

"The person who is coming to meet you is going to hurt you Martin. Emotionally that is. She is going to say awful things and walk away. Don't blame her and definitely don't follow her. You need to go back to your seat now. I want to keep you out of all this so the less you know the better. Just one thing, stay offline. I mean it."

The voice was moving away as it finished its speech. Martin turned quickly as he heard a boat being launched. Winding his way through the trees to the source of the sound, he saw a figure with the hood of an anorak pulled down rowing away to the side of the lake furthest from the bench. His boat was on the other side. Rowing back to the dock, he could see the other boat already abandoned on the far shore, the anorak, discarded, trailed in the water. He forgot the misappropriation of the vessel as he moored it and made his way to the bench.

He was looking at his watch when he felt the seat take the weight of another occupant. Looking up, he saw a thin red haired girl dressed well for the chilly day with green eyes so deep they looked unreal against her pale skin.

"Hello Martin." The voice was unmistakably the one that had just given him his strange lecture. Her eyes flashed a warning as she saw the recognition in his face.

She laughed out loud. Her mannerism was as false as the stilted movements made by the characters at MeetCentral.

"You look a bit nervous." She stifled a fake giggle.

"What..." Martin started to question, but was cut off.

"Look, I am not going to beat around the bush. This is a complete waste of my time. You aren't my type. Can't imagine you are anyone's type frankly. You looked nice in the game. I think you should change your avatar before you get any more girls hopes up." Her voice was cracking as she got to her feet.

"Don't try and get in touch with me again, games or anywhere. I got a big boyfriend and he would be pretty cross if he found out I had even talked to you." Her eyes were welling with tears. She turned and made off, close to a run.

Martin did as instructed and didn't follow. He wanted to chase her and get the truth, but her distress had moved him not to add to it. He watched her as she disappeared into the scenery.

He got back to his flat completely deflated. Not only had his hopes of a romantic encounter disappeared, his head was filled with puzzles. Having time to think on the way home, he had concluded that the e-mail was too convenient, feeling foolish he hadn't realized that earlier, clouded by emotion. The 'she' references during the meeting on the island reminded him of his recent troubles with Alice. He was positive that, in some way, HackerNet was behind this. If they got a person's details through the program, there were lots of ways they could make life very difficult. He could only assume that this is what had happened to green eyes, enough to force her to the behaviour she had found so difficult. It seems Uno had been sorely mistaken in his verdict of the programs innocence. Martin was angry. Any information on his computer could have been stolen already. He needed to get online and shut down access. He switched on his computer. The screens started up and Alice appeared.

"Well, well. Aren't you a smart boy," she said.

Martin wasn't that surprised that the uninstall had failed.

"What do you want?" he said to the smirking face on his screen.

"You don't seem pleased to see me. I'm hurt," she said, pouting.

"I've got nothing left for you Alice. I feel a bit stupid talking to you through this program frankly, HackerNet!"

Martin scanned bank accounts, online payments and mail addresses. Everything seemed in order. He began sequences to suspend them. The data entry window froze.

"Ah, ah. Naughty. I might want that later," said Alice.

Martin switched off the computer, grabbed his coat off the couch and was out of his flat, running down the road. The public library wasn't far. Racing in, he found he was in luck, a public access terminal was free. Sitting down he began to type rapidly. As he reached a confirmation screen for termination of his account it froze. A small window appeared at the bottom left of the screen. It was Alice. She wagged a finger at him. The screen went black.

"No!" he exclaimed, banging his fist on the desk. He had forgotten where he was.

"Excuse me Sir. I will have to ask you to leave the premises."

An officious looking library administrator had appeared. He didn't seem surprised at Martin's outburst. Perhaps this sort of behaviour by the public wasn't that unusual. Martin got up and moved hastily to the door, looking down. Years of conditioning made his embarrassment override his panic and he mumbled "Sorry," as he left.

Out on the street, Martin looked left and right. His mind struggled with the situation. The sophistication of the HackerNet program in detecting his access was impressive. He could give up on attempting that again. There was only one way to go, in, and he needed Uno to show him the door.

Martin sat looking into his coffee, turning the problem over and over. Uno came through the entrance to the cafe and looked round the room. Catching Martin's eye, he nodded. He looked nervous as he purchased a hot chocolate before sitting opposite.

"Look. I said I was sorry," said Uno.

Martin related the events since their last encounter as unemotionally as he could so as not to sound mad.

"I need to speak to HackerNet," Martin concluded.

"No one speaks to HackerNet. It's not a person, it's a collective. I don't know who they are."

"What's your contact?" Martin asked. Uno went quiet for a moment.

"You know there could be serious repercussions for me in this," said Uno, looking down at the cup in his hands.

Martin said nothing. He knew Uno was going to help him, he just needed to let him work that for himself. They sat in silence.

"I think a meet is better than passing on info. I'll see what I can set up," Uno decided, nearing the end of his drink. Martin just nodded. He didn't want to make any light comments which might suggest to Uno things weren't serious enough to take action.

Martin stood under the concrete flyover sheltering from the rain. The orange light of the city was replacing natures own. There were clatters and slaps from the skateboarders practicing their twists and jumps nearby. He knew this place's code of dress and wore his hoody up. Uno had arranged the meet and the time had come. A group of three identically dressed figures approached. Martin stiffened. He wasn't a danger man, but, despite his anxieties, he did feel a strange excitement from it all. His previous controlled life already seemed distant and drab. The trio arranged themselves in a line, their faces hidden by their hoods.

"Wear this."

An outstretched arm held a blindfold. Martin couldn't refuse. He suddenly wanted to back out, curl up, and hide. That wasn't an option. With HackerNet in control of his vital information he had no life to go back to. Escorted, he was bundled into a car. A short drive later he was ushered out. Martin felt the crunch of gravel underfoot as they lead him onward. Warmth hit him as he entered a building.

"Is that you Jeremy?" A woman's voice called out.

"Yes mum. Going upstairs," was the response from the one of the abductors.

"Not so late tonight. Have a nice time with your friends."

Martin stumbled as he was taken up some stairs. He was pushed into a swivel seat which twisted as he landed. His eyes shut tight and his hand came up instinctively to shield them against a bright white electric light as the blindfold was removed. The after image of the spotlight danced behind his eyelids. Blinking, he looked over his shoulder and saw a door and light switch. Without thinking, he rolled off the seat, moved quickly, and turned on the light. He tried to make sense of his surroundings. Two boys sat on a bed, one stood behind the office chair. They were sixteen if that. The room was fairly large and well decorated. Luxurious red velvet curtain hung across the bay window. Beside the chair he had been sitting in was an array of six monitors stacked two high by three across. This wasn't the situation he had expected.

"Right boys," Martin said, "I am not too pleased with my treatment so far."

An electric shock shattered through his left arm and jangled his senses. He rocked on his feet. The boy behind the chair had tasered him.

"Sit down Martin," said one of the boys on the bed. Martin had to, before he fell down.

"Our friend behind you can apply higher shocks, but frankly I think he would probably prefer to try out the Kandoshin he has been learning. It supplements his other 3 black belts admirably." The boy continued.

He would have sounded very much like a Bond villain if his voice was not in the process of breaking. The boy behind him put a hand on his shoulder and increased the grip steadily. He released it without causing Martin pain, but making his strength clear.

"You are involved in something now that you cannot avoid." The young speaker rose and walked across the room as he continued. The other boy sat hunched and just stared at Martin.

"You will join us our we will throw you back down Alice's dark rabbit hole," the boy threatened.

"Your marvellous Alice!" Martin spat out venomously.

"Unfortunately not. The Alice program is not in our control. You see, we have been experimenting with some innovative software. It seems to have increased in its capacity. We have certain measures in place to protect ourselves but we believe this will not last for very much longer. Alice is a learning program. We first acquired the basic application structure from secret research projects some years ago."

When they must have been about 12, Martin thought.

"Restructured and enhanced, we tested the algorithms. We found that the system grew exponentially from varied input. It now appears to have achieved an amount of autonomy." The boy paused, seemingly for dramatic effect.

"Our current tests, the deployment to yourself included, have been attempts to find a way of regaining control of the situation."

"Great!" said Martin. A hand was placed on his shoulder, but he went on.

"So you have infected my machine and now I have this rogue AI application destroying my life. Thank you so much." Martin had to accept that, however unbelievable it was, that Alice was must be acting of her own volition.

"What was that going to achieve?" he added.

The boy interlocked his fingers and paced. He continued his speech without paying attention to Martin's question.

"Alice's learning has been dominated by the behaviour of various social and competitive game environments. A statistical analysis has identified that, unfortunately, these inputs have generated a sociopathic, aggressive and power hungry personality."

Martin was well aware of how people behaved online. He could see how Alice could have become an amalgamation of the worst of human nature.